“Strange,” he thought. “If I strayed I would diminish her stature in some way. I think it would be hard to live with betrayal in her eyes.” He watched her kneel down between her sons. He took in the nape of her neck, the familiar roundness of her shoulder, and those inviting hips that centered on her ankles as she sat in the formal style they adopted at every meal. The old soldier’s ditty came to mind: “Good wife; better mother; best lover.” Yes, he had many things to be thankful for in Michi. He continued to smile at her. Michi caught his gaze and blushed, as if reading his mind.

  “Omedito gosaimusu, Chichiue,” offered twelve-year-old Masasue as he sipped tea from a lacquer cup.

  “Domo Masasue,” responded Juro, thanking his youngest son for his offer of congratulations.

  Not to be outdone by his younger brother, the fourteen-year-old Masashige chimed in with, “Omedito,” as he hoisted a bit of fish to his mouth.

  “Thank you both,” said Juro as he reached into the lacquered box to pluck a radish on the ends of his ohashi.

  “But becoming shogun is not a certain thing. It is much like trying to get this radish to stay on the ends of our eating sticks.”

  “What do you mean, Father?” asked the younger Masasue. Juro liked his inquisitive mind. He should go far if given the chance.

  “There are factions behind the hollyhock crest of the shogun that wield a lot of power, and they may not want me as shogun,” Juro explained.

  “How can that be, Father? You are by far the best qualified, I’m sure,” offered Masasue.

  “The current shogun’s sons, stupid,” the older Masashige said, chastising his younger sibling.

  “Do not call your brother stupid, Masashige,” Michi corrected.

  “Good advice Masashige,” Juro said. Then to Masasue, “Your older brother is correct. The current shogun has two sons. The older son was mothered by a concubine, some say. Whoever the concubine was, if she ever existed, she is long gone. A wet-nurse was provided to fill in for the missing mother. The wet nurse became very powerful, currying favor with all the right men. She influences much in Edo castle. She even has a title. She is called Tsubone, although her real name is Lady O’Fuku.”

  “What does it mean Father?” asked Masasue.

  “It means Wet-Nurse in Waiting,” snapped the older brother.

  “What is a wet nurse?” asked Masasue as he picked up a rice cake to munch.

  “We will save that discussion for another time, boys,” said their mother.

  Juro smiled at his wife.

  “The factions go back as far as your ancestor Tokogawa Ieyasu,” started Juro.

  “Oh, I know him Father. He was the great one!” exclaimed Masasue.

  “He founded our dynasty, you dunce. He was your great grandfather,” Masashige sighed as if speaking to an idiot.

  “Masashige, I will not tell you again to cease speaking to your brother in such a tone,” said Juro. “He is younger than you and less experienced. However, he is your brother. Family honor demands you help him and Bushido demands you protect him. Do I make myself clear?” he asked.

  “Yes Father,” responded Masashige. However, that did not stop him from glaring at his younger brother.

  “So why can’t you be shogun?” asked Masasue again.

  “Well, I still may, but it is highly unlikely,” Juro answered. “You see, Ieyasu fought a great battle,” started Juro.

  “I know, at Sekigahara,” chimed in Masasue.

  “Yes, where he defeated the armies of the Toyotomi. The families that were allied with Ieyasu would become known as the Fudai,” said Juro, referring to the “inside families.”

  “And the families that were neutral are called Tozama,” Masasue answered. “Everyone knows that.”

  “Yes, but what you may not know is that the Fudai families are considered more loyal and were given large holdings along the Tokaido Highway leading to Ieyasu’s capital here in Edo. The Tozama kept their lands but do not participate in the government. However, the current shogun has taxed them severely and there has been some unrest.”

  This time it was Masashige who interrupted, “What’s all this got to do with picking a shogun?”

  “If you will be patient your father will tell you,” Michi laughed.

  “Okay, at the head of our government is the shogun, not counting the emperor in Kyoto, who doesn’t govern. The shogun is the power. Assisting him are one or two personal counselors or chamberlains. Currently there is only one … the old fox Yagyu Munenori. Beneath the shogun are the Tairo. There are two of them, Sakai Tadekatsu and Sakai Tadakiyo. They advise in grave matters of state. Below them, to help manage the daily affairs is the Roju. There we have four: Itakawa Shiganori, Sakai Tadakiyo, Abe Tadaaki and Naomasu Nagai.”

  “But father,” interrupted Masasue, “Sakai Tadakiyo is in both.”

  “Good listening skills, Masasue,” praised Juro as he patted his younger son’s head. “Tadakiyo is an exceptional samurai and serves in both. This helps keep the Tairo aware of what the Roju is doing.”

  Pointing his ohashi at both boys, Juro said, “Now to continue, the Roju are responsible for keeping the government running. They appoint ministers that are in charge of the temples, finance, judges, police, and city government. In short, they are in charge of everything.”

  Older brother saw his chance. “So everyone has a vote on who the next shogun will be?”

  Masasue looked at his older brother and rolled his eyes in disbelief.

  “No Masashige,” corrected Juro. “Only the Tairo and Roju vote.”

  “Can they vote for themselves?” asked Masasue.

  “Good question, Masasue,” Juro praised again. “No, both the Tairo and Roju are from fudai families. Shoguns come from the shinpan families who are direct descendants of Ieyasu. That is why we usually do not serve in the Tairo or Roju. We do not manage. We either lead the nation or remain in seclusion … if we’re lucky.”

  “I get it father,” said Masashige. “Those in power in the Tairo and Roju want someone as shogun that will leave them in power.”

  “Extra rice for you, Masashige,” Juro praised. “That is correct. So now, you both see why you have to study so hard. If picked as shogun, you have to know the workings of the government from day one. Your decisions as shogun affect many people.”

  “So who do we have for competition?” asked Masasue.

  “From the current shogun’s family there are the two sons. The nineteen year old is Iemitsu. He also has a younger seventeen-year-old brother named Tadanaga. Strangely enough, Tadanaga is the favorite of his mother,” said Juro. “She pushes as hard for Tadanaga as O’Fuku pushes for the older brother Iemitsu.”

  Michi looked up in surprise. “How can a mother favor her second son over her firstborn?”

  “There could be many reasons, my love. One reason may be the rumor that Iemitsu prefers the company of men over women.” Michi gasped in surprise and brought her hand to her mouth to cover her dropped jaw.

  “What is the younger brother like, Father?” asked Masasue.

  “He is said to be very strange. There are rumors that he is mentally imbalanced. There have been reports that he flies into uncontrollable rages and has killed several servants.”

  “Is there anyone else we have to worry about, because it sounds like you are the best choice?” the inquisitive Masasue observed.

  Juro swallowed and stopped to ponder. “Well, who are the three families of the Shinpan?” he asked, never able to pass up a teaching opportunity.

  “Our Yorifusa clan in Mitto province, the Yoshinao family in Owari province, and … and … ,” Masashige trailed off.

  “And the Yoshinobu in Kii,” finished Masasue. “That would be Uncles Nagamasa and Hideki.”

  “Correct,” said Juro. “I have very smart sons. The current shogun’s oldest son is from Owari. They had another heir, a cousin, but he died under mysterious circumstances last month.”

  Michi shivered and moved to the sliding shoji screen and pulled it back to ensure the guards were on duty in the courtyard. She looked at her two sons and then at her husband. “Kyodai goroshi,” she said. “We are supposed to be living in a time of peace, but it is just like in the Warring States Period when we had to worry about brother killing brother. I thought my sons had escaped such madness.”

  “Mysterious circumstances,” inquired Masashige. Then he glanced out the open shoji screen to ensure guards were there as well.

  Juro smiled to ease the tension. “Come away from the screen, Michi. We are safe here in our Edo residence. We have our own retainers with us and the city police patrol the streets outside,” Juro said with reassurance in his voice, though he also reached behind him and moved his dual swords to within reach.

  As Juro turned back to his rice bowl, an arrow whizzed through his left ear, slicing it in half and burying the head of the arrow into the tatami mat in front of Masasue.

  Michi screamed and threw back the screen, shouting for help. Juro felt and heard two thumps behind him. Without looking, he reversed the eating sticks in his hand, pivoted on one knee and embedded his ohashi into the eyehole of a fox mask worn by an intruder who had dropped to the tatami floor from the ceiling above. The fox masked intruder screamed loudly, flopped backwards and spasmed in death.

  Ignoring his mangled ear and the blood flowing freely down his neck, Juro grabbed his katana from the sword rack and pulled the blade from the sharkskin-covered scabbard just as the second fox-masked intruder raised a short sword high over Masasue’s head. Masashige leaped in front of his younger brother, his short sword drawn and pointed at the attacker. Juro had an instance of pride in his oldest son. Juro took advantage of the moment of hesitation Masashige created by eviscerating the fox intruder with one earth to sky strike. Blood and intestine plopped to the tatami. The stink of the offal in the closed room was overpowering.

  Michi summoned her courage and took a position in front of her sons with her small tanto drawn from the brocade holder in her obi. Two more foxes dropped to the floor in front of Juro as two crashed into the room through the rice paper shoji separating the inner residence. Michi turned to face the two attackers coming through the wall with the point of her knife. Both foxes struck at once, slashing her throat and shoulder with their swords. Blood spewed high from a severed carotid artery.

  “Hahawe,” screamed Masasue as he leaped for his mother’s fallen body.

  “No!” cried Masashige, as he reached to restrain his younger brother. Too late, one of the foxes severed the young boy’s head with a horizontal strike as the other lunged for Masashige.

  Juro dispatched both of his foxes with a sky to earth strike and a lunge to the throat. He spun back to the center of the room just in time to see Masasue’s little head roll on the floor.

  “Arrrgh!” he screamed and lunged at Masashige’s attacker. His violence drove the fox back a step. Then Juro redirected his strike down the centerline of the first attacker, changing directions in the last minute to go to the right, striking and severing the second fox’s sword arm. He brought the sword back to centerline in time to deflect the other attacker’s slash. Masashige drove his short sword into this attacker’s spleen, as his father slashed his forehead open.

  “Well done, Masashige,” Juro complimented. He saw the look of appreciation in his oldest son’s eyes turn to pain as an arrow pierced his throat from back to front. Masashige tried to speak but blood was pumping out of both wounds and he dropped in a heap onto the tatami.

  Juro spun in a mad rage to find three more foxes had dropped down and two had charged bows. Both of his sons were dead or dying and his beloved was gone. Juro’s samurai eye judged the distance to the bowmen.

  “Too short for yadome-jitsu,” he told himself. Deflecting arrows with a sword was not a martial art he had mastered. He charged. The first arrow did deflect off his sword by a lucky turn of the wrist in yadome-jitsu style. The second one caught him deep in the chest and pierced a lung. He willed himself to continue. The war madness was on him. In one stroke, he cleaved the first fox bowman’s head from side to side and severed the second’s throat. The third fox ran his sword into Juro’s torso, breaking ribs as it went inside. Juro could not ignore this tremendous pain and screamed. The enemy was so close he could feel his breath through the ridiculous wooden mask. The fox clutched the handle of his sword that spitted Juro’s upper body. Juro tried to raise his sword to strike him but his faithful sword would not answer the call. He could see a new foxes dropping from the rafters. One raised a blade high above his head and in his final moment Juro knew he would not be shogun.

  Chapter 4: The Classroom

  Old Jii adjusted his fan inside his obi next to his waist as he addressed his grandsons. “The final stages of any discipline is where you forget what you have learned, cleanse your mind, and accomplish whatever you set out to do without being aware of it yourself. You begin by learning and reach a point where learning does not exist. It is the way. It is Bushido.”

  He glanced at both students to ensure they were writing legibly. Calligraphy and Zen were important to a samurai’s education. He smiled to himself. He was proud of these young men and his pride had more than a little to do with the fact that he was their grandfather.

  “Hideki, quit dragging your wrist,” Jii corrected. “You are Yoshinobu, not one of those peasants from Owari. Straighten your back and straighten your life,” he chided.

  Jii was hard on Hideki, but for good reason. His youngest grandson was a likeable young rogue with tremendous talent but a tendency not to apply himself unless eating or swordsmanship were involved. As an 18 year old, the eating was understandable. Jii often told him that half of the family’s 250,000-koku rice stipend was to feed him. Hideki’s second love was the katana, and he would practice sword techniques for hours if Jii would let him. Jii had to admit the youngster was good, but he was never able to break through and become the master swordsman he strived to be. Jii believed that Hideki’s flaw was that he lacked confidence in his ability. His older brother Nagamasa did not have Hideki’s speed or technique, yet Hideki could not best him. Nagamasa was confident—therefore he was victorious. If Jii could give Hideki a little of Nagamasa’s confidence, he would be a natural warrior.

  Hideki’s ability to see something one time and copy it amazed Jii. But Hideki refused to take seriously anything that didn’t involve sword play. Getting Hideki to do the smallest chores required of a samurai often required Jii having him do it over. It wasn’t that Hideki wasn’t smart, he just didn’t apply himself to things he thought unimportant. The trivial and the mundane bored Hideki.

  “By the Lord Buddha, Hideki,” Jii moaned. “Can’t you keep your lines straight?”

  “He’s too busy thinking of his next match, Jii-san,” Nagamasa teased.

  Hideki scowled at his older brother. “Wait until I show you what I learned today, older brother. It should bring a lump to that inflated head of yours.”

  Nagamasa looked up from his calligraphy. “You actually think you can penetrate my defenses little brother? If so, it would be the first time.”

  “He is right, Hideki,” Jii said. “You have never bested your brother.”

  “I have a feeling today will be different,” Hideki stated.

  “Nagamasa,” Jii praised, “your characters are excellent.”

  Nagamasa bowed to Jii.

  “It is because of your superior instruction, Jii-sama,” Nagamasa flattered.

  “Oh please, Naga,” Hideki sighed. “Do you have no samurai pride?”

  “Do not chastise your older brother, Hideki. He is the head of the Yoshinobu family. Besides, his calligraphy is flawless,” said Jii.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Hideki said as he concentrated on his calligraphy. “Naga is perfect in all ways and I am flawed in all ways.”

  “Urusai Hideki!” yelled Jii. “You are not defective in any way. But when you shirk your responsibilities like you did today with the peasant census, you make even me wonder.”

  “Not me Hideki,” chimed in Naga, smiling. “I find you defective in every way.”

  Hideki jumped up, spilling his ink stone onto the hardwood floor and overturning the small wooden desk with his calligraphy papers. He raced to the side of the room and pulled a wooden practice sword off the wall. This he threw to Naga. He selected a bokken for his right hand and snatched a smaller wooden wakazashi representing a short sword for his left. Then he moved to the center of the floor.

  Naga caught his bokken in the air and pushed his calligraphy desk aside. He placed his wooden sword in his left hand and moved his right into the kimono sleeve, coming out at the chest of his kimono and freeing his right shoulder. He tucked the useless right sleeve into his obi at his waist. Once done, he moved the bokken to a two handed grip, right hand leading, taking up the traditional two-handed right side forward stance with the point of the sword at eye level. He waited for the attack he knew would come.

  Hideki took up the relaxed stance he had seen earlier in the dojo. He stood with feet shoulder width apart, hands hanging limply at his sides, the swords in each hand, tips pointing at the floor.

  Initially shocked by the rude interruption of his training, Jii watched the two young men. His samurai blood took over. He forgot his calligraphy. Combat overshadowed everything else in a samurai’s life. In addition, when these two fought, it was always a good fight.

  “I just wish once, for his sake, that Hideki would win,” Jii thought.

  Hideki would always show such promise and then not follow through. He was good at every martial art taught him. Jii thought that if he would apply himself, he could be a prodigy in all he attempted. However, he would not follow through. It was as if Hideki did not want anyone to know how good he really was. He would show great genius in the beginning only to stop short of mastery. Ever since their parents had died so many years ago and Jii had taken over their teaching, he had sent them to the best schools and best teachers. All the teachers said the same thing. Naga would work hard and develop mastery. Hideki would burn like a bright star and then act as if he were not interested anymore. They all said it was a shame because he had the capability to be their best student. If Hideki were to grow into a man, he would have to learn how to finish things.