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Authors: Steve Bein
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Kanayama’s castle. That’s why he sent me.”
“That may be. But didn’t Nakadai-san spend as much time there as you did? And yet you were chosen. Nakadai did not kill Lord Kanayama. Oh, don’t look so surprised. The stories got here days ago. Lord Kanayama made a mistake, and it is a shame he had to die without face, but all the same, he was Kanayama Osamu. Ashikaga-dono sent over a dozen to kill him, yet you did it alone.”
“I did it with Nakadai. And with regret.” He sipped his tea. “Still, there is something to what you say.”
Hisami bowed; better to thank her husband for being gracious enough to acknowledge her than to appear the insistent wife. “Our new master is very happy with you indeed. Why, he could have left us to rot as rōnin ! After all, that…Where is your sword?”
Saito’s spine bristled with tiny nails of ice. “What?”
“Your tachi ,” she said. “This one is different. The hilt and the tsuba have foxes on them.”
“Ah. Yes.” His stomach twisted; a dull pain shot down into his testicles. Somehow he suppressed any change in his face or voice. “My tachi was broken in the battle. I decided to leave it with the master’s body when we put him on the pyre.” Despite the nausea, the lie came smoothly enough. “It was an excellent blade. Even in dying, Kanayama exacts his price.”
Hisami was silent for a pregnant moment, and Saito wondered whether his voice had been as even to her ears as it was to his. Finally she said, “Yes, that is a shame. It was a fine weapon, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose this one will do. Lord Ashikaga gave it to me along with the rest.”
“Hm. I hadn’t heard that part of the story. Surely there is no shame in losing a blade to Kanayama, as good as he was. Strange to omit that part, neh ? Hm.”
Saito forced himself not to swallow. “You know how rumors are. By the time a story gets to the next village, it is hardly recognizable. Surely the details were simply forgotten in the telling, somewhere along the way?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But have I seen those foxes before?”
The throbbing in his abdomen redoubled. This is what had worried him ever since he’d left the funeral pyre. Several years before, Lord Kanayama had visited Saito’s home. It happened only once, just after he and Hisami were married. Saito and the lord sat together and Hisami poured tea. But it was the mark of a samurai to notice at all times the weapons carried by anyone around him—or her. A good wife had to have an eye for detail as well, in order to appropriately praise guests and to direct conversation when a lull or an unwelcome topic emerged. Hisami was both a good wife and a good samurai. She would surely have noticed the finely worked foxes resting at Kanayama’s hip, and now everything depended on whether her memory had keptwhat her eye had caught. Saito cut off a curse and waited for the worst.
But today the gods were smiling on him. “I would swear I’ve seen them before,” she said finally, “but I haven’t got a clue where. Perhaps it was in another life. No matter. I suppose I’ve seen a thousand different swords coming through our village; why shouldn’t this one look familiar, neh ?”
Saito nodded, wanting to exhale all the stress in his chest but afraid to do it as long as she sat before him. “You can put these foxes out of your mind. Tomorrow I’m going to have the sword remounted with a new tsuba . I think the crest of the house of Saito.” He nodded, looking back at the foxes. “Yes, I think my father’s crest would be excellent there.”
“It certainly will. I’ll send someone to the sword smith immediately to make the arrangements.”
9
Hisami couldn’t let her eyes rest on the new tachi without rage welling up in her. How could those fools be so useless? Her husband had trekked across forty ri to get home, and over all that distance those ignorant, lowborn, misbegotten sons of peasants still couldn’t manage to forewarn
“That may be. But didn’t Nakadai-san spend as much time there as you did? And yet you were chosen. Nakadai did not kill Lord Kanayama. Oh, don’t look so surprised. The stories got here days ago. Lord Kanayama made a mistake, and it is a shame he had to die without face, but all the same, he was Kanayama Osamu. Ashikaga-dono sent over a dozen to kill him, yet you did it alone.”
“I did it with Nakadai. And with regret.” He sipped his tea. “Still, there is something to what you say.”
Hisami bowed; better to thank her husband for being gracious enough to acknowledge her than to appear the insistent wife. “Our new master is very happy with you indeed. Why, he could have left us to rot as rōnin ! After all, that…Where is your sword?”
Saito’s spine bristled with tiny nails of ice. “What?”
“Your tachi ,” she said. “This one is different. The hilt and the tsuba have foxes on them.”
“Ah. Yes.” His stomach twisted; a dull pain shot down into his testicles. Somehow he suppressed any change in his face or voice. “My tachi was broken in the battle. I decided to leave it with the master’s body when we put him on the pyre.” Despite the nausea, the lie came smoothly enough. “It was an excellent blade. Even in dying, Kanayama exacts his price.”
Hisami was silent for a pregnant moment, and Saito wondered whether his voice had been as even to her ears as it was to his. Finally she said, “Yes, that is a shame. It was a fine weapon, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose this one will do. Lord Ashikaga gave it to me along with the rest.”
“Hm. I hadn’t heard that part of the story. Surely there is no shame in losing a blade to Kanayama, as good as he was. Strange to omit that part, neh ? Hm.”
Saito forced himself not to swallow. “You know how rumors are. By the time a story gets to the next village, it is hardly recognizable. Surely the details were simply forgotten in the telling, somewhere along the way?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But have I seen those foxes before?”
The throbbing in his abdomen redoubled. This is what had worried him ever since he’d left the funeral pyre. Several years before, Lord Kanayama had visited Saito’s home. It happened only once, just after he and Hisami were married. Saito and the lord sat together and Hisami poured tea. But it was the mark of a samurai to notice at all times the weapons carried by anyone around him—or her. A good wife had to have an eye for detail as well, in order to appropriately praise guests and to direct conversation when a lull or an unwelcome topic emerged. Hisami was both a good wife and a good samurai. She would surely have noticed the finely worked foxes resting at Kanayama’s hip, and now everything depended on whether her memory had keptwhat her eye had caught. Saito cut off a curse and waited for the worst.
But today the gods were smiling on him. “I would swear I’ve seen them before,” she said finally, “but I haven’t got a clue where. Perhaps it was in another life. No matter. I suppose I’ve seen a thousand different swords coming through our village; why shouldn’t this one look familiar, neh ?”
Saito nodded, wanting to exhale all the stress in his chest but afraid to do it as long as she sat before him. “You can put these foxes out of your mind. Tomorrow I’m going to have the sword remounted with a new tsuba . I think the crest of the house of Saito.” He nodded, looking back at the foxes. “Yes, I think my father’s crest would be excellent there.”
“It certainly will. I’ll send someone to the sword smith immediately to make the arrangements.”
9
Hisami couldn’t let her eyes rest on the new tachi without rage welling up in her. How could those fools be so useless? Her husband had trekked across forty ri to get home, and over all that distance those ignorant, lowborn, misbegotten sons of peasants still couldn’t manage to forewarn
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