“That’s my girl,” her father beamed.

  “Unfortunately, I do not think he has any use for either of us,” she said.

  “Do not worry; that will change. Did you tell him of my succession plans?”

  “Yes, as you instructed, Father,” she confirmed.

  “What was his response?”

  “He laughed—the rat,” she said.

  The old man smiled. “As I would expect. But the seed is planted. I have a feeling we are going to need Yoshi’s talents before long.”

  Sensing despondence, she asked, “What is it that you fear, Father?”

  The old man tapped his tobacco ashes into the dead brazier. “Someone is playing for very high stakes,” he replied.

  “Of course, Father. We are targeting one of the Tokugawa heirs.”

  “Who contracted us?” the old man asked.

  “The money came from the brother of a Roju member,” she said.

  “So someone in the Tokugawa government is attempting to control the outcome of the shogun’s succession,” he said.

  “Nothing new in that,” she commented. “They do not call it kyodai goroshi for nothing. Fratricide in the government is what keeps us busy.”

  “True, but why did they come to us?”

  “What do you mean Father? The Five Families have existed for one hundred years,” she defended.

  “True, but we are not the largest. The Iga and Koga shinobi are much larger. Why not go to them for this contract?”

  “I assume they want to remain anonymous,” she suggested.

  “Yes, and what better way to remain anonymous than to eliminate the assassins after the deed?”

  Sachi did not have to fake her shock. “You think we are in danger?”

  “I am sure of it, Daughter,” he stated. “How have the other heirs died?”

  “If you believe the street papers and criers, they were killed by bandits during robberies—bandits called the Fox Gang.”

  “Bandits, huh?” he sneered. “How is it a bandit gang wanted throughout the country raids at will in some of the best protected houses in the nation? Why have the police no leads? Why have we no information on them? Why have Hittori Hanzo and the metsuke no leads? How can a bunch of dim-witted bandits elude the government and the shinobi on mono?”

  Sachi shook her head. “You are correct. That is most disturbing. Do you suspect the police are in league with the gang?”

  The old man shook his head in exasperation. “Just when you make me proud, you miss the point.”

  “Gomen Oto-san,” she apologized. “What is the point?”

  “Think Daughter! What does having no clues on such a large and obviously talented bunch of killers suggest?”

  Sachi sat upright. “They are ninja,” she blurted.

  “That’s more like it, Daughter.”

  “But who?” she questioned.

  “Unknown. And that is what worries me. It is neither the Iga nor the Koga, as they both protect the Tokugawa. Hattori Hanzo and the Iga run the metsuke and provide security for the Edo castle, but the Koga are on retainer as well for security. So it must be some family we know little about who is well funded and well informed and working for someone with a lot to gain.”

  “But Father, someone hired us and you think they will try to eliminate us. If the Fox Gang is ninja, won’t the same fate await them?”

  “Good point,” he praised. “Now you are projecting. However, your logic is more the cause for worry. We are the Five Families, but how many mission-ready ninja are we?”

  Without hesitation, she responded. “We are sixty-five strong, but spread over the country.”

  “Yes,” he said. “And how many do you think it would take to wipe out a well-garrisoned mansion like the one wiped out by the Fox Gang?”

  Sachi went to work thinking aloud. “Three teams of five for surveillance. Then send in a team of five for ghost technique to infiltrate and cover the assault. Thirty more needed to carry out the assault and ten to cover the extraction. All in all fifty to sixty ninja.”

  “Correct,” he said. “Even if we had enough time to recall everyone, we would be hard pressed to execute this type of operation, and we are the Five Families. So how do fifty or sixty bandits travel throughout the country without detection?”

  “They would either need passes issued by someone high up in the government or they would have to be very good shinobi,” she answered.

  “I think both,” her Father provided.

  “So they do not expect to be eliminated for their efforts because … ,” she started.

  “Because they expect to be part of the government when their man is shogun,” the old man finished for her.

  Sachi shivered. “How do we get out of this, Father?”

  The old man poked the dead ashes in the brazier with his cold pipe. “I do not know.”

  The words provided no comfort to the successor of the Five Families.

  Chapter 7: Ichijoji Temple

  It was getting dark and Hideki was tired. Still, he felt good. Naga and Jii were eating their evening meal safely tucked away in the ryokan. The guard throughout the inn was set. Hideki had inspected it twice, and now the responsibility for the family security rested on the shoulders of the night commander. Hideki was finished. It was still early; maybe he could sneak out and see some of the sights of Kyoto.

  Dressed in his ronin garb of gray uwagi uppers with baggy indigo hakama trousers, he could pass for a young ruffian in any of Japan’s major cities. He wore straw sandals with ankle high tabi socks and a tenegui head cloth folded and worn as a hachimaki headband instead of a head wrap, completing the attire with a pair of matching high quality old swords stuffed through the obi on his left side.

  He intended to explore each of the fifty-three major stops along the Tokaido, the most famous road in Japan. It linked the ancient capital with the new one in Edo, and it was as close as he was ever likely to come to exploring the country. Unfortunately, he knew they would not stop at all fifty-three. He also knew none would compare with Kyoto.

  If Naga became shogun, Hideki’s life would change. His carefree days were numbered. He would have endless trivial responsibilities and duties and would be under the watchful eyes of the metsuke spies. If Naga did not become shogun, then both of them would be trying to dodge assassination. Therefore, he reasoned, he might as well discover what he could while he could.

  He could not believe his luck when Jii had announced they would travel north from Kii to pick up Japan’s major highway in Kyoto. Jii said he wanted to see the old capital once more before he died ,and it would be good for Naga and Hideki to see the city where the emperor lived. It was not until later that Jii explained they would not get to speak with the emperor. The emperor was politically perceptive enough not to hold an audience for any potential heir to the Tokugawa. To agree to an audience with the Yoshinobu would be perceived as favoritism, and the emperor owed his livelihood to the largesse of the Tokugawa shogunate.

  He had traveled through town and found one martial arts dojo, but their evening session had almost ended. It was just as well. He had seen nothing that he wanted to learn. He turned toward the lights and walked further into town where he found himself in the entertainment quarter. It was brash and raucous. Hideki felt himself grabbed and spun around. A painted woman many years his senior smiled and asked, “Hey samurai, let’s go inside for a drink and a good time.”

  Hideki’s mouth must have been open, staring at her one bare breast and half open kimono. He pulled away. “Sorry, I have an errand to run,” he gasped

  The painted woman looked disappointed.

  “Boys, boys, boys; that is all I see. When is a man going to come to town?” she asked no one in particular. Then she looked for someone more pliable.

  The scene repeated itself several more times as Hideki slipped through the section. It was not that he was not interested; it was that whenever this type of temptation was facing him, he remembered Jii’s admonition: “To sow our seed is easy. But the Christian pox awaits those that frequent the entertainment quarters. And what of your future wife?” Jii set very high standards, Hideki thought. However, he had to admit, although he knew little about the opposite sex, he remembered the warmth Jii and Oba-san shared. Naga had said their parents had possessed it as well, but Hideki was too young to remember his own parents. Still, he had seen the warmth between Jii and his grandmother. As much as she had loved and doted on the two boys, she always had an extra smile and seemed happiest when Jii entered the room. According to Jii, feeling for someone is what made life worth living. Hideki knew her death had hit the old man hard. He had not showed much interest in anything until the shogunate succession came up. Then Hideki had caught a glimpse of the old Jii—giving orders, taking charge, running things.

  Hideki kept walking. He stopped, trying to get his bearings. He was not sure where he was. Before him was a large compound with a huge empty lot in front. Around the lot was a waist high rock wall. A large red tori gate signaled the entryway through the wall. When he came abreast of the gateway he saw that the shrine was called Shisendo and that it was dedicated to poets. The temple behind was called Ichijoji. “I care little for poets or temples,” Hideki reminded himself, but he was tired and thirsty from walking. A small wooden sign on the gate indicated cool water for weary travelers at the temple well, so he entered.

  As he passed into the expansive lot, he heard distressed conversation coming from the porch of the temple. A young girl with peasant clothes was kneeling on hands and knees bowing and pleading. Hideki could not see her face, but her voice sounded young, a teen perhaps. She was under duress.

  “Doshin sama, dozo,” she pleaded with the police officer. “I have told you all I know. Please believe me.”

  The objects of her supplication were two men standing on the highest steps just below the temple porch. One was a short, powerful-looking fellow with a round face that looked kind of pinched in, Hideki thought, as though he wanted to sneeze. Sneeze Face was dressed in a summer kimono, but wore it with the hem raised and tucked into his obi, thus revealing white legs and a dirty fundoshi loincloth. When the moon moved from behind a cloud, Hideki saw a long toothpick dangling from his mouth. He was talking around it and tapping his thigh with a jutte. Hideki could never understand the use of such a short and very defensive weapon. The jutte has a short metal truncheon-like center tine of one and one half shaku length with a single upturned tine off the center shaft, supposedly to capture swords. Hideki held the samurai’s contempt for such a weapon. Although the weapon was the hallmark of the police, it just looked inferior to a sword in every way.

  “Maybe this jutte will take you back to the station and beat some sense into your rather pretty body,” Sneeze Face threatened.

  “No, please doshin-sama. The abbot will be back shortly. He can vouch for me. I have not left the temple all day,” she pleaded.

  “Quit your whining. We’re liable to take you in and play with you just because it is a slow evening and I’m tired of the prostitutes in the town,” the tall one said.

  Hideki did not like the tall man’s appearance. He was much older than Hideki with a scar on his left cheek. He wore his two swords on the right hip. “I guess he is left handed,” Hideki quietly surmised. A left-handed swordsman was not normal. Hideki immediately felt the aversion ingrained in his psyche for anything different.

  The tall samurai wore a dirty summer kimono, mud splattered around the hem, with a black haori outer jacket that displayed the man’s clan mon, a logo which Hideki did not recognize.

  Hideki was agitated by the way the girl was treated, but he could not afford to get into trouble. He could just hear Jii’s tirade if he got himself arrested. As he came abreast of the three, he could see the girl plainly. She was young. The two men stopped their harassment of her long enough to turn and stare at the intruder.

  “What are you looking at?” the tall one demanded.

  For a brief moment, Hideki saw hope on the young girl’s face. Then it faded as he responded, “Nothing,” and continued to the well and shrine in front of the temple.

  “Young hooligan,” the tall officer spat as he turned his attention back to the girl.

  As he came abreast of the well, a gray-clad courier exited the temple carrying a small, cloth-wrapped bundle and a jo in his left hand. He placed the short staff over his shoulder and started down the steps. He stopped when he saw Hideki, then cast a glance at the two doshin and girl engaged in an intense argument.

  Hideki reached for the ladle in the water when a loud shriek from the girl made both he and the courier spin in her direction. Sneeze Face had just touched the girl with his jutte under the left breast. “Dame! Dame!” she screamed, trying to get them to stop.

  The courier took a seat on the steps next to the well with his short staff positioned between his feet and passing over his shoulder. He took out a cloth and dusted his leggings. When he spoke, Hideki almost jumped.

  “Kage-san, kyotsuke ne, she is quite young.”

  The two stopped their interrogation of the girl and moved over to investigate this new form of entertainment. “What did you say, vermin?” Sneeze Face asked.

  The courier continued to knock dust off his ankles and feet as he responded. “I just asked you to take it easy on the girl as she is very young.”

  “And who are you to interfere with police business?” the tall officer demanded.

  “Just a traveler who thinks the sanctity of this temple is being violated,” the courier said, looking up at the two.

  Without warning Sneeze Face struck at the courier with his jutte, meaning to split the man’s skull. The strike landed instead on the top of the short staff. The courier had moved the jo imperceptibly from its position cradled between his head and shoulder to the point needed to protect his head from the descending blow.

  “Outrageous conduct,” Hideki said to himself, giving commentary to the cowardly strike by the detective.

  As Sneeze Face raised his truncheon a second time to correct his aim, Hideki delivered a concentrated front snap kick to the side of his left knee. There was a loud snap. Sneeze Face collapsed in a scream, holding his knee. The girl grabbed her baskets and ran into the temple and the tall officer moved his left hand to his sword tsuka as he dropped his right foot back in preparation for a draw.

  Hideki did not want trouble. He could not afford trouble. He could not afford to die either. All these emotions flooded through his mind. However, the one that trumped them all was Jii’s admonition of duty: “There is no wrong too small to right. There is no right too small to defend.” Hideki and Naga had heard old Jii’s voice teach this from the time they were old enough to learn.

  Hideki did not recognize his own voice. “Draw that blade and I’ll kill you.” He shut everything out. Nothing existed except the pure and certain knowledge that if the left-handed officer started his draw, Hideki would cut him from his right shoulder to his left hip.

  No one moved.

  Then a voice from the dark of the temple hall said, “He means it policeman. You are finished badgering people tonight. Pick up your baggage and move along. No one here has been impressed.”

  Hideki did not move. He was staring into the eyes of his opponent.

  The unknown speaker moved out of the shadows and onto the porch. Hideki knew his own appearance did not strike fear in the seasoned officer’s heart, but this new man was a different matter. He looked strong. His lightweight kimono was thin from use and the katana sheathed in his left hand appeared well-worn in the moonlight. A matching wakazashi short sword protruded from his obi on the left side. His feet were bare and he had a white cloth laid over his right shoulder as if he had planned on a bath. His shoulders were broad and his hair jet black with streaks of gray around the ears. He did not wear the shaved scalp popular in Edo. Instead, he wore a full head of hair tied back in a tall chonmage. His eyes were his most impressive weapon. They were two black coals burning a hole in the tall officer. The unknown speaker looked dangerous.

  The officer dropped his hand from his sword and reached down to help his minion up. They proceeded to hobble out to the gate. They almost reached it when the officer turned. “We’ll be back,” he said.

  Hideki breathed again. He wanted to speak but found he was shaking. The courier spoke first.

  “Domo arigato samurai-sama,” he said, bowing first to Hideki and then to the samurai on the porch.

  Hideki finally trusted his voice. “I guess we better leave. He will be back with reinforcements.”

  The samurai on the porch stepped down beside the courier and sat down to put on his sandals. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? We have wounded them and their pride.”

  “Men like that have no pride,” the courier said.

  Both samurai looked at him in surprise.

  “You are correct courier,” the samurai said. “They will have concocted a story by now of their wounding and have moved on to easier prey.”

  The samurai watched Hideki and said, “You had better get a drink young man. The Ichijoji water is renowned for its coolness.”

  Hideki dipped the ladle into the water and was about to bring it to his lips when he reversed the handle and presented it to the courier.

  “You need this more than I,” Hideki said.

  The courier looked to the samurai warily as if unsure whether to take it or not. The samurai next to him nodded, indicating it was okay. He gingerly took the ladle and put it to his lips, drinking until the ladle was empty. Before passing it back to Hideki, he took out a cloth and wiped the rim where his lips had touched.

  “Domo arigato,” he said, then asking, “Why did you give it to me first?”.