“She was the one who rescued him,” Yoshi replied.

  “We all know that. When the high and mighty could not do anything, six ninja, four of them women I might add, got the job done,” she said. Mother and daughter smiled at each other over the minor slight she had just heaped on her benefactor’s head and the male gender in general.

  “Yes, Mother. They are sleeping together. Why do you ask?” Yoshi relented.

  “Because she sits in his room at odd hours and checks on him.”

  “Really? I thought he was to have no visitors.” Yoshi said.

  “That is the reason for my question. There are many guards posted outside his room as there are throughout the mansion. But how are they going to keep out a ninja in love?”

  “Interesting,” Yoshi pondered. “What is she doing there?”

  This time his wife answered. “She just sits with him. If anyone approaches, she shifts to invisibility.” Yoshi knew she meant that Myo hid when anyone came near the room.

  “So she believes he is not protected enough?” Yoshi asked.

  “That would be my guess son-in-law. Who are you trying to protect him from?” she asked.

  “Ninja,” he said, seeing her logic. “I will get Jii-sama to turn security over to me. If she is going to be in there anyway, she may as well be in charge.”

  Mother and daughter smiled at each other again. They had made a good choice. Yoshi was little slow, but he eventually listened to reason.

  Hideki slept for another two days. The first thing he saw each time he awoke was Myo. He tried to speak but could not. Myo rushed to him and told him to keep quiet. He had had many blows on the head and she was worried he might never join the living again. She summoned the doctors, and they began poking and prodding him and getting him to drink their herbs. Within ten hours, Hideki had regained his speech and the movement of all his limbs. Moving proved painful as his body was crisscrossed with purple bruises and multiple cuts, but by the third day, he was almost whole again, except for his right hand.

  When the bandages came off, Hideki was shocked at what he saw. His right hand looked more like a claw than the appendage he remembered. The fingers were naked without fingernails. Only his thumb and little finger had escaped the torture. The backs of his fingers up to the second knuckle were charred. He could not extend his fingers. He could touch the end of each finger with his thumb, but only had feeling in the tip of the thumb and the little finger. There was no feeling in the other fingers. He was a cripple.

  The doctors told him that the loss of sensitivity was a blessing. They said it would mask the pain from the burns. All Hideki could think about was the fact that he would never hold a sword again.

  Hideki changed. His usual good nature gave way to sullenness. He became withdrawn. He did not want to see anyone. Everyone was banned from his room. Myo continued her vigil but from the rafters or in an adjacent room. Hideki was not aware of her presence. He allowed doctors in but grilled them about his condition, demanding to know if he would ever regain the use of his hand. No one told him what he wanted to hear.

  Neither Naga nor Jii could sweeten his disposition. Their visits became shorter and shorter. Hideki even refused to see Yuki, who had recovered from her poisoned dart ordeal.

  Yoshi’s updates on the progression of the police training did little to cheer Hideki. Even the news that Naga’s appearance before the Roju and Tairo was postponed did not pick up his spirits.

  Then Musashi visited.

  “Well Sensei,” Hideki said from his futon, “have you come to see how far your star pupil has fallen?”

  Musashi ignored the comment.

  “I came to say goodbye. I will be returning to my Musha Shugyo tomorrow.”

  “So, when we need you the most, you depart.”

  Musashi ignored the rebuke. “There is nothing here for me now.”

  “There is still the Fox Gang and the Edo castle cabal. There is a new police force that is untried, and there is a big question of what I am going to do with the rest of my life,” Hideki countered.

  “And why is my presence required for any of that?” Musashi asked.

  “I just thought you might like to stick around and see how what you helped create turns out.”

  “I already know how it is going to turn out,” Musashi said

  “So you have added prophecy to the list of your accomplishments?”

  “No, it does not take a prophet to foretell the Yoshinobu future,” Musashi said.

  “Then enlightened me,” Hideki commanded.

  “Gladly. The back of the Fox Gang is broken. Myo’s explosion accomplished that. There may be others, but they will never be the threat they were. Naga will marry Yuki and become son-in-law to Hittori Hanzo and surrogate to Yagyu Munenori,” Musashi predicted.

  “Will he become shogun?” Hideki challenged.

  “Unknown. He would be good at it. However, the Yoshinobu have stirred up the government a little too much for the power elite. I would bet he does not become shogun.”

  “And what does the future hold for me, Sensei? What will become of crippled Hideki?”

  “What do you want to become of him?” Musashi asked.

  “Well, I wanted to go on a Musha Shugyo and perfect my swordsmanship while helping Naga to rule. But that won’t happen now,” Hideki said.

  “Why not?” Musashi asked.

  “Look at this hand,” Hideki said, holding his claw-like right hand up. “I cannot hold a sword. How will I ever be able to practice kenjitsu again?”

  “How were you able to practice kenjitsu in the first place?” Musashi asked.

  “What do you mean? Jii started my training at an early age. I have been practicing with a sword since I was little.”

  “Then there is your answer,” Musashi said.

  “No more of your riddles, Sensei. What are you talking about?” Hideki demanded.

  “Nothing wondrous. You are facing a crossroads that every returning warrior has had to deal with since the beginning of time. You trained and trained to become good. Then you go off to war. You are injured and come home. Now what do you do? Do you mope and feel sorry for yourself and make life miserable for those around you? Or do you apply yourself to continue to accomplish your goals but with new applications?”

  Hideki did not respond, so Musashi continued. “Some do not return at all. They cannot. They are dead. Some return blinded. Some return with a limp. Combat changes everyone. The question is how you allow that change to affect you. Do you embrace the Bushido that brought you this far? Or do you wallow in self-pity and never achieve anything else with your life?”

  “You do not know what it is like, Sensei. I cannot do anything anymore,” Hideki said.

  “Is that why you sent Myo away?”

  Hideki nodded. “I still love her, but I am just half a man now. I cannot bear for her to see me like this.”

  “You idiot. She saw you much worse. Who do you think saved you when the rest of us ran around wringing our hands?” Musashi asked.

  “I know. I’ve heard the stories.”

  “They are not stories. They are true. You should be proud to have a woman dedicated enough to risk her life and that of her clan to save yours. But if you asked me, the way you’ve returned her courage means she bet on the wrong man.”

  Hideki seemed to flinch at the words. “So help me, Sensei.”

  “I cannot. You have already chosen. You have picked self-pity and making everyone around you miserable,” Musashi said.

  “What would you have me do, Sensei?” Hideki asked.

  “It is not my decision. You have to decide which path you travel.”

  “What if I wanted to keep my old dream alive with the Musha Shugyo and helping Naga?” Hideki asked.

  “Then, were I you, I’d start learning how to be an effective fighter given your current deficiencies.”

  “But I cannot hold a sword with my right hand,” Hideki said.

  “Then either learn how to hold one, or learn how to fight left-handed.”

  “Sensei, will you stay and help me?” Hideki asked.

  “If you are serious, I will get you started,” Musashi promised.

  Hideki smiled for the first time since being crippled. “How do we start?”

  “Yoshi,” Musashi called.

  The paper door slid back. “Hai,” Yoshi answered.

  “Join us, ninja. We have need of your black magic and the healing arts of Matsu,”

  Yoshi bowed. “What you’re really saying is that you have need of my mother-in-law now and me afterwards?”

  “Exactly,” Musashi grunted.

  Yoshi bowed again and disappeared through the sliding door.

  A few moments later, feminine voices were at the door. “Gomen Kudasai.”

  “Enter,” Musashi said.

  Yoshi’s wife and mother-in-law entered Hideki’s room and bowed to both Hideki and Musashi. Then they moved around Hideki’s futon, around behind Musashi, and over to Hideki’s right. They bowed again.

  “Gomen,” the old woman said and reached up and took Hideki’s scarred and clawed hand. She touched it very carefully. She turned it over and looked at the palm. Then she attempted to straighten out each finger. The fingers would straighten, but would return to the clawed position upon release.

  “Does that give you pain, Lord?” Matsu asked.

  “No, I do not feel anything at all,” Hideki replied.

  “I’m going to prick your fingers with some needles. I want to see if you feel anything at all. Is that agreeable to you?” she asked.

  “It is not agreeable, but I will endure it.”

  Matsu turned to her daughter and retrieved a small, cloth packet. From it she extracted several needles. Holding Hideki’s fingers one at a time, she began pricking each one and asking if Hideki felt anything. Most of the time there was no reaction. However, on several instances Hideki jumped and said, “Hai.”

  When she was through, Matsu wrapped the needles in the cloth and returned them to her daughter.

  “What is your verdict?” Hideki asked. “Will I ever be able to use my hand again?”

  Matsu looked surprised. “Oh, most assuredly,” she said. “You may have trouble holding items for a year or so, but you are already gaining feeling in your fingers above the second knuckle. Have not these Chinese-trained doctors told you this?”

  Hideki smiled from ear to ear. “No, they have not. Thank you,” he managed.

  “You may never have all your strength back, but you will be strong enough after a while to do most things.”

  “Can I wield a sword?” Hideki asked.

  “You can do that now with the proper equipment,” she said.

  “What equipment?” Hideki asked.

  “You notice you still have feeling and some strength in your little finger and your thumb. I believe with a specially modified leather glove, I can have you holding a sword in a few days.”

  Hideki eyes opened a little wider. “Is that the truth?”

  “Yes, Lord, it is the truth,” she said. Then she turned her attention to her daughter. “Chiyo, please bring me my sewing basket.”

  “Hai,” Chiyo said, rising and shuffling off in her kimono toward the sliding door.

  “You are going to sew me?” Hideki asked.

  “No Lord. I am going to make a glove for your hand. It will be a special glove. To make it, I must first create a pattern of cloth.”

  Hideki looked relieved.

  Matsu and Chiyo spent the next hour measuring, cutting, and stitching together a cloth glove that fit over Hideki’s right-hand. The thumb was exposed from the first knuckle of the thumb to the tip. Cloth encased all the fingers. It looked like a normal glove, with the fingers linked together. They could not be separated.

  “You still have movement and feeling in your thumb and little finger. The movement of the little finger will close the remaining fingers around your sword. You will be able to hold it, but you will not have much strength at it for several weeks. In the interim, I would wield a short sword,” Matsu advised.

  “What about a jutte?” Musashi asked.

  “Yes, Musashi-sama. He should be able to wield a jutte,” she answered.

  “Thank you Matsu. You don’t know how much it means to me to have hope,” Hideki said.

  “I think I had better take over your nursing, young lord. With my oils and compresses, your feeling in the hand will be accelerated. Your hand may permanently stain brown, but that will be better than the red. Your nails will grow back eventually.” Then both mother and daughter rose and moved across the room, bowed again, and departed through the sliding door.

  “Amazing people,” Hideki sighed.

  “Yes, the country is full of them,” Musashi agreed.

  “Ninja?”

  “No, amazing people. You just have to stop and listen. Your job starting tomorrow is to start training in earnest to learn to defend yourself and them.”

  “Yes, but a jutte is not a katana,” Hideki said.

  “I will have you using a katana tomorrow.”

  “Sensei, you are a great master and a better teacher, but even you cannot promise to cure this right hand,” Hideki challenged.

  “I do not have to. The jutte is for your right-hand, or barring that, a short sword. Starting tomorrow you are a left-handed swordsman,” Musashi declared.

  “A left-handed swordsman? I will be a freak.” Hideki feared the ridicule heaped on all things different in the society.

  “Well, therein lay your choices. Be a freak and help Naga and people like Matsu and Chiyo by bringing better government—or quit.”

  Hideki looked at his clawed right hand and then at his left. “I guess I choose freak.”

  “Good choice, Lord. You have had enough rest and self-pity. We begin at dawn tomorrow.” With that pronouncement, Musashi rose and departed.

  Hideki tried to will his right fingers to flex. The three inside fingers would not budge. “I will do this and I will make it work, I don’t care how hard it is,” he vowed. “I will not be a cripple.”

  From above the ceiling in the rafters, Myo smiled. “Bless you Musashi sensei.”

  As the sun rose, Hideki made his way to the practice area in the Yoshinobu compound. He was dressed in a plain, brown kimono. His appearance was somewhat disheveled. He would not have passed inspection by Jii. However, Hideki was proud of himself. He had just waged a major campaign and won. He had dressed himself. He was still somewhat independent.

  He had used his sageo cord from his scabbard to tie up his sleeves. To do so was easy for a man with two hands as the sword cord was long, but tying up his sleeves left Hideki exhausted. Just as challenging was tying his cloth hachimaki headband in place. No one would know it, but getting dressed with two swords in his obi this morning had required more courage and determination than the combat he had seen so far. Today was a big day.

  Musashi watched him from across the field and nodded with appreciation. Then his eyes dropped to the sword on Hideki’s side. The katana was on his left side, as he had carried it all his life. The wakazashi was also in his obi but worn more toward the front as was the tradition. In addition, thrust into his obi next to the short sword was a red-handle jutte.

  “What rank did they give you?” Musashi asked.

  “I’m told the embedded token means I am a private. I am on the bottom,” Hideki said.

  “It is appropriate. I see you have your new glove.”

  “Yes, Matsu and Chiyo must’ve worked all night. It is a marvel,” he said as he raised his hand up for Musashi to see. “It is very light and supple leather, but it is strong and allows me to close my hand. Watch.” He grasped the handle of the jutte and drew it out, elevating the tip toward Musashi.

  “Can you strike with it?” Musashi asked.

  “Yes,” Hideki said, raising the weapon and striking down several times.

  “Can you parry?”

  Hideki blocked inside and outside with the jutte.

  Musashi picked up a bokken and prepared to strike. “Can you parry and still hang onto the jutte?” he asked.

  Musashi struck to Hideki’s left side. Hideki parried the strike to the inside. Musashi reversed and struck to Hideki’s right side. Hideki parried to the outside. Then Musashi raised the bokken and struck downward at Hideki’s head.

  It was a devastating blow and its force frightened Hideki. Even in top form, it was difficult to deflect Musashi’s blows. Hideki raised his jutte as high as he could to minimize the downward travel of Musashi’s blade. He wanted to negate as much power as possible. The jutte blade met the wooden sword at an angle. The impact struck the jutte with a resounding slap. At the moment of impact, Hideki flicked his wrist to the right, deflecting the blow’s downward momentum away from his body. He shuffled forward on his front foot, moving his right side away from the strike and continued his flipping wrist motion to bring the jutte around and up to strike Musashi’s head. Musashi jumped to his left at the last minute and missed a blow between the eyes.

  “Very good, Hideki. You have not forgotten.”

  Hideki smiled. He had not thought he could do that. As soon as Musashi had started striking, the copper taste of fear had thrust itself into the back of his mouth. The taste was new to him. He did not like it.

  The government was changing. The people were changing. His life was changing. He would have to get used to the new taste and make it work for him. He might never be the same confident young man of old. “Was that okay? No sense wondering. It is what it is. Live with it,” he told himself.

  Musashi set the wooden sword against the raised portion of the instructor’s platform. He removed Hideki’s katana and scabbard from his obi. He opened a cloth bundle and extracted a different katana and saya. “Yoshi’s womenfolk were not the only ones up late,” Musashi said.

  The kurigata on the scabbard was on the opposite side of the saya. Now a left-handed man could wear it on his right side. The kurigata is a small circle of Buffalo horn that keeps the sword scabbard or saya from sliding down past the obi.

  Musashi stuffed Hideki’s katana into the new scabbard. Then he placed the sword on his right side between his hip and the cloth obi. He left the short sword on the left front with the handle towards the right. The jutte with the red silk handle was adjacent to the short sword. Both were within easy reach of his right hand.