“Wisteria vine, I think,” the old woman said with confidence.

  “You can help her?” Yoshi questioned.

  “I could with enough ‘human root,’” the mother stated. “But we have none in the village.”

  “Where can I find some?” Yoshi asked.

  “The Chinese doctor in the castle town below will have some. Ginseng is one of his cure-alls,” the old woman said with more than a little scorn in her voice. “But it is very expensive and we have no money.”

  “It is a poor husband who cannot provide for his family, oba-san,” Yoshi declared to his mother-in-law. “I will find a way.”

  The mother looked relieved. “Buddha smiled on us the day you asked for Chiyo’s hand. With my husband dead, I was worried about Chiyo and Daichi’s future. But I worry no more.”

  Yoshi went to the corner to retrieve his conical straw hat. He also stooped to place a flat throwing knife inside the crown and a five-bladed throwing star into his left sleeve. The five blades were a sign of the Dewa ninja.

  “Expecting trouble?” asked Daichi.

  “We are people of the grass, Daichi, true shinobi no mono,” Yoshi replied. “We always expect trouble. Besides, someone poisoned your sister. I want to know who and why … before I kill them.”

  “Are you sure it was poison brother?”

  “Daichi, you are Dewa ninja. Your sister is Dewa ninja. Your mother is Dewa ninja. How old were you when you learned to detect wisteria poison?”

  “About four or five years, I think,” responded Daichi.

  “Exactly,” Yoshi emphasized. “Chiyo knows how to detect it as well as you or me. Someone had to deliberately disguise its odor and taste to fool her. We’ve only been married for one month, but I have loved your sister since we were children playing in these mountains. I’m going to hurt someone for this.” He spoke firmly, not boastfully.

  Yoshi started to exit the hut when the village headman’s shape filled the opening.

  “Yoshi, you are summoned to the meeting hut.”

  Yoshi kept walking. “Not now.”

  The headman stopped him with an outstretched arm. Yoshi halted in surprise. This behavior was not polite and was certainly not the Dewa way.

  “I’m sorry Yoshi,” he began, “but the person requesting your presence is very high placed in the families. In fact, I believe him to be the leader of the Five Families. I have never seen him before, but I have heard of him. I think to ignore his summons would be bad for you and our village. Please go see him before you run whatever errand you are on.” Yoshi looked to his wife on the floor. She was resting a little more peacefully now. Then his eyes went to Daichi. Finally, his gaze rested on his mother-in-law. She nodded slightly.

  “Alright then,” Yoshi stated. “Where is this mystery man?”

  “In the meeting hut. I told him you were on the way,” the headman stated as he stepped down into the street and disappeared around the corner of a hut.

  Yoshi stayed in the hut’s darkness. He turned and walked to Daichi. “Brother, this has all the signs of a contract. I want you to do two things for me. First, if I don’t return with human root today, promise me you will get it for Chiyo.”

  Daichi nodded. “Hai.”

  “Second, in case I can’t come back and establish communications, I want you to provide it for me.”

  “You want shadows, brother?” asked Daichi.

  “Yes. I have no way of knowing where or when we may depart, so put a five-man team on me. Use our relatives. We’ll make contact in the normal way.”

  “It will be as you say Yoshi,” Daichi said. “You are number two in the village anyway.”

  “More than anything else, I want Chiyo safe,” Yoshi said, looking at his mother-in-law.

  “Do not worry son-in-law,” the old woman vowed. “She will be safe.”

  Yoshi looked her in the eye and remembered all the times he had seen her cripple samurai. He believed her.

  “Domo,” he said as he turned into the light of the street and headed for the meeting hut.

  Yoshi stepped down from the hut into the main street of the village. It was little more than a goat track covered in a light green spread of creeping weeds and dandelions. Reddish furrows carved through the greenery. Rapid running water poured down from above when the clouds bumped up against the mountain each afternoon and released their liquid to speed its way down to the creeks in the valley below.

  As he stepped down, he closed one eye. The brightness of the mid-day sun compared to the darkness of the hut would rob him of his vision once he entered the meeting hut. Therefore, he used the old ninja trick of closing one eye to keep from totally losing his night vision in the new building.

  He tied on his conical straw hat and squatted to lace his zori sandals on his feet. He was dressed like every other male in the village. His top garment was a faded indigo peasant jacket patched at the elbows and shoulders. The billowing sleeves came halfway to his wrists. The garment folded in the front with cloth straps knotted on his left hip and again on his right to keep the jacket about his body. His trousers were made of the same heavy cotton canvas as his jacket and tied at the waist in front. The garment fit loosely on Yoshi’s slight frame, with ample leg space ending at half calf. The pants used to be white long ago; now they had a dingy gray appearance thanks to the mud in the creeks below. He paid his appearance little attention. His clothes were not what the Five Families were seeking.

  As Yoshi approached the large meeting hut, he scanned the village with his open eye. He strained to detect danger. He registered nothing. He stopped in front of the meeting hut before stepping up onto the entrance. His keen senses still registered no threat. This was unusual. He knew there to be at least one dangerous man inside the hut, yet he could not sense his presence. Something was not right.

  Yoshi slid back the wooden door and stepped up and inside the darkened hut. Immediately he moved to the right, kneeling on one knee with his hat off and his right hand on the flat throwing knife.

  “Moshi age masu,” Yoshi said as he switched eyes.

  “Yoshi-san?” the voice in the dark questioned. “What are you reporting?”

  “Just my presence,” Yoshi responded, straining all of his considerable ninja skills to discern how many others were in the dark hut. His haragai gift of seeing through the darkness was not functioning for some reason.

  “I guess you are wondering who I am,” the voice said.

  Yoshi was quiet. They would get around to telling him everything they wanted him to know.

  “I realize it is a little unusual for you to be summoned this way,” the old voice said. Yoshi remained quiet. Patience meant reward. That is what his new bride often said. “I have watched your progress over the years. You are your father’s son. Despite being young, you are quite adept. You are a veteran of four assignments.” The voice was cold despite the praise.

  An old man with a shaved head and wearing monk robes and prayer beads stepped from the shadows. “You are a resourceful shinobi no mono, but you respect the old ways.” He extended his hands with the index fingers joined at the tips, thumbs overlapping, and the rest of the fingers folded under. His hands moved in a blur, tracing intricate patterns in the air.

  Yoshi interlaced his own fingers and traced equally intricate but slightly different signs.

  “Excellent,” the old man said. “You do not find many who know kuji-kiri these days. It takes a true ninja trained in the old arts to give the correct signs and counter signs of nine symbols cutting. That is why I have sought you out for this assignment.”

  The old man changed the subject.

  “Oksan wa genki desuka?” he asked, inquiring after Yoshi’s wife.

  “Hai, genki,” Yoshi lied, indicating his wife was fine.

  “That is not what I hear,” the old man continued. “I hear your new young wife is in bed with pain and only the human root medicine can cure her.”

  “You are well informed, old one,” Yoshi replied. Few within the village knew of his wife’s sudden illness.

  The old man reached into his robes. Yoshi’s thumb tightened on the small throwing blade held between the straw hat in his lap and his right thumb.

  “This is ginseng, the human root medicine from the Chinese doctor,” the old man offered. “It is a down payment on your next contract.”

  Yoshi’s outer expression did not change. Nevertheless, his blood was boiling. Now he knew why his Chiyo was ill.

  “Are you sure it will cure her?” is what he asked instead.

  “Oh, I think so,” the old man stated noncommittally. “It is very expensive medicine.”

  “I hope so,” Yoshi stated. “I would hate to have to abandon an assignment to come back and find some more.”

  The old man smiled slightly. “Yoshi-san, are you threatening your elders?”

  “No threat,” Yoshi stated. “Just peeking into the future.”

  Yoshi bowed his head, reached up and took the packet in his free left hand and placed it inside his outer garment.

  “Good,” the old man said. “I knew we could trust you.”

  From behind the old man, a striking woman in white pilgrim garb stepped out of the shadows. She was older than Yoshi, but might have been pretty in different surroundings. Yoshi noticed her place a shuriken into her sleeve. “Probably poisoned tipped,” he thought to himself. “I guess I made the right choice.”

  Now that Yoshi could see her, he could feel her presence—almost. It was not right. Was she a ghost? Instinctively he looked down to her feet. She had feet. Therefore, she was no ghost. Nevertheless, why could he not read her aura with haragai? A ninja should not doubt his prowess. This woman made him uneasy.

  “Your mission will be difficult and will involve this,” the old man said as he held up a three-leafed hollyhock mon in gold leaf on the side of a tobacco pouch. Everyone knew the symbol.

  “You want me to kill the shogun?” Yoshi asked in total disbelief.

  “No,” scoffed the old man. “He’s almost retired anyway. Your target is from the house of the Shinpan.”

  “You want me to kill someone from the house that provides direct descendants to the Tokugawa? It sounds like you need a crazy man.”

  The old man continued to talk as if he had not heard Yoshi’s complaint. “Your target will be in either his Kii estate or his Edo mansion. His name is Yoshinobu Nagamasa.”

  Yoshi shook his head. “You want me to kill someone from the Tokugawa family who may ascend to the shogunate at any time. I will be lucky if all that happens to me is death. It is beyond suicide.”

  The old man frowned. “Such pessimism does not become you, Yoshi.”

  “And that old bastard Hanzo is said to be running the metsuke for Chamberlain Yagyu. I’d need an army to get past all the security and the spies,” Yoshi continued to complain.

  “If you start immediately, you will catch him in Kii, where he will only have samurai retainers as security. Besides, you will have support, Yoshi,” the old man stated as he nodded to the woman. “This is Sachi. She will supply you with all you require.” Every instinct told Yoshi to run, to get as far away as possible from these crazy people, but he knew he had heard too much.

  Yoshi bowed slightly to Sachi. She did not blink or return even a nod.

  Yoshi knew he “was bought and paid for.” If he refused now, he would die along with his sick wife. He was angry. He should have never come into the hut. As usual, his curiosity and willingness to please overcame his caution. Inside he was cursing himself. Outside he was calm.

  “I could try and kill them both now,” he thought. “No, you don’t get high up in the Five Families without some skills. They would be hard to kill. Besides, they probably did not travel here alone.” Yoshi strained his haragai but could detect no one else. He had no doubt there were others waiting outside somewhere. If he hesitated in the least, he would be dead. He was in a dilemma. He knew he could not get out of the assignment. His wife of one month would be a widow, if they let her live.

  “Do we have paper?” Yoshi sighed.

  The old man nodded to his cold assistant. She pulled a single rolled scroll from her robes and extended it to Yoshi. He unrolled the scroll and began reading. It was traditional for Ninja to sign contracts as a way to pass debts and obligations from one generation to the next. Longevity was a ninja’s dream.

  Yoshi took his small blade, nicked his left little finger, and allowed the blood to drop onto his right. He traced his mark on the bottom of the paper. There, it was sealed.

  The old man nodded. Sachi stepped toward Yoshi to pick up the contract and stopped to trace a design lightly on Yoshi’s cheek with her fingernail.

  “Sweet Yoshi,” she murmured. “There is no need to worry. Both you and Chiyo will be well cared for.”

  Yoshi stared into those cold gray eyes.

  “Oh, I’m not worried Sachi-san. If anything happens to Chiyo, I will find you,” he stated flatly.

  Sachi stopped smiling and stood up angrily.

  “We understand each other, peasant. Go say goodbye to your sick wife. We leave within the hour.”

  “So much for niceties,” Yoshi thought. “But, I owe you and the old man for poisoning Chiyo. Ask anyone, I always pay my debts. You may have won this time, but I’m not finished with you.”

  A good ninja knows when and where to pick his battles. Yoshi did not betray his real feelings. Instead, he bowed to both, stood, turned, and left the hut.

  The old man sat on the floor and moved his hand over his bald head. “And what did you think of our young assassin, Sachi-san?”

  Sachi moved behind the old man and remained standing. “He is arrogant and inexperienced and does not know his place.”

  The old man removed a white towel from inside his jacket and wiped a light coat of sweat off the back of his neck.

  “Did he have no qualities that impressed you?” he asked patiently.

  “None Oto-san,” she stated with conviction.

  “So you are questioning my judgment?”

  She knew he had laid a trap for her. He had detected she was upset by the meeting and had played with her, using her agitation as the catalyst. “Never, Oto-san,” she stated as she knelt and bowed to her father. “You are the boss of the Five Families. It is not my place to question you.”

  The old man nodded. “Well spoken Sachi-san. So examine yourself. What caused your agitation?”

  “I do not know,” she responded, thinking about the brief meeting. “I was fine until he made that not-so-veiled threat about hunting me down if anything happened to his wife.”

  “And why did that bother you, Sachi-san?” he asked quietly. “Surely you have received threats before.”

  Sachi grabbed her upper arms with both hands and involuntarily shivered. “I do not know Oto-san,” she answered truthfully. “It may be that despite his boyish innocence I detect that he could very well make good on that threat.”

  “Excellent! That is my girl. You are correct. It is because of his incongruous countenance that he is so dangerous,” the master confirmed. “You are very familiar with every aspect of the ninja life. I have taught you well. Now think of a young man, in the prime of his life, who embodies the highest skill level in all those disciplines. Now think of the same young man who is also a master of the old ways. A man who is a master of the magic—the dark arts—the ways no longer taught because the skill has been lost over the generations.” The old man spun around and continued to talk. “Now imagine that same deadly combination inside the countenance of an innocent. Yoshi can fool anyone. He is a chameleon. He reminds those that pay attention to him of their younger brother or favorite nephew. He does not look dangerous. But if his wife dies, I will not sleep well again.”

  “Oto-san?” Sachi’s eyes opened wider. “Surely you exaggerate Father.”

  The old man smiled up at his daughter. “No Sachi-san. I do not. Have you heard of haragai?”

  “Yes, but I thought it a legend.”

  “A legend, yes, because its secrets have been lost. Yoshi’s father had the gift. He could see through the darkness. I understand he passed the gift on to his son. That is why I need Yoshi for this contract. It is another reason he is so dangerous. Luckily, the ginseng I gave Yoshi contains the antidote for the wisteria poison you placed in her drink. She should be up and around in a day or two. You are going to have to be very careful around him. While I have trained you well, you are not in his league in a one-on-one fight. I am not sure I could defeat him one-on-one myself. So swallow your pride and help him as much as possible. Besides, he will probably not live through this assignment. He is correct. It is suicide.”

  Sachi shivered. “What an interesting man,” she thought.

  Chapter 3: The Fox

  “Congratulate your father, children. He will be the next shogun,” directed Michi as she spooned rice into her husband’s bowl. Yorifusa Juro smiled at his wife’s praise and watched her perform the simple task of refilling her sons’ rice bowls. He marveled anew. Her movements were economical and so very feminine. He found wonder in her every graceful motion. She was the epitome of womanhood and Juro considered himself a lucky man.

  Catching himself in this un-samurai-like pondering, he wondered why she intrigued him so. “She was not beautiful,” he mused. In fact, his mother had warned him that she was plain. Maybe if lined up next to the painted geishas of Kyoto, she might seem plain, but she had never looked plain to him. The long rich black hair, porcelain features, intelligent dark eyes, pouting lips and unbelievably soft skin had mesmerized him from the beginning.

  Michi was more. She was very devoted to him and their two boys. He found that fact in itself attractive. Juro felt his loins stir as he watched her rocking motion to stand in the tight kimono and shuffle in the pigeon-toed motion the restrictive hem required. She moved to the sliding door and retrieved a new tray left by a kitchen maid on the hardwood floor outside the room.

  Married for fifteen years, Juro had never felt the need to seek out companionship outside the confines of their bedroom. During the many times that he was away on Tokugawa duty, he could not wait to get back to her. She was an ardent lover who took as much pleasure as she gave.