Reiko’s face.
Reiko cried out in horror as she recoiled from Namiji’s moist, sour breath. Terrified despite knowing that Namiji wasn’t contagious, Reiko scrubbed her face with her sleeve.
Namiji burst into malicious laughter. “That will teach you to stay away from me!”
The guards seized her and dragged her away from Reiko. Reiko heard her laughing all the way down the corridor.
10
MASAHIRO HURRIED THROUGH Edo Castle, on his way to help his father with the most important investigation of their lives. He wore a leather shoulder pouch and a pole attached to his back that flew a banner printed with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest—his page’s uniform. An official stopped him, said, “Take this message to the north army command post,” and pushed a scroll container into his hands.
Unable to refuse because his position in the regime was already shaky, Masahiro delivered the scroll. Afterward, he met two fellow pages. They blocked his way down the passage.
“What have we here?” said one of them, a surly, thickset boy named Ukyo.
“It’s the great Masahiro, who used to be head of the shogun’s private chambers,” said Gizaemon, the other boy. His little black eyes glinted with mean pleasure in a face like a rat’s. “But he got kicked out of the palace today.”
These boys and others had resented him because the shogun had chosen Masahiro to serve as head of his chambers and bypassed them. Masahiro stood his ground even though Ukyo and Gizaemon were two years older, taller, and stronger than he. “Get out of my way.”
“‘Get out of my way,’” Ukyo mocked him in a girlish falsetto.
Gizaemon snickered. “Say ‘please.’”
Masahiro knew he could beat them in a sword fight. He’d done so at martial arts practice, another reason they were tickled by his downfall. But drawing a weapon inside Edo Castle was against the law, punishable by death.
“‘Please,’” Masahiro said through gritted teeth.
The two boys stood aside. As he passed them, they grabbed him. They wrestled him onto the ground, seized his hair, and banged his face against the paving stones. Then they released him and walked away, laughing.
Masahiro stood up. He wiped his face with his hand, which came away bloody from a cut on his nose. He burned with shame and anger. Remembering how he’d been demoted in front of the assembly at the palace, he blinked back tears. That, and seeing his father brought down by Yanagisawa, had been the worst experience of his life. And this attack was only a taste of trouble to come, Masahiro knew. Yanagisawa would never leave his family in peace. Masahiro held his head high while he strode through the castle, avoiding the gazes of the people he passed. As he exited the castle gate, he swore to solve the murder of the shogun’s daughter and prove Yanagisawa was guilty.
By the time he reached the crowded, bustling daimyo district, the temple bells began tolling noon. The sun shone with a force that promised a hot summer. Laborers repairing the estates had stripped down to their loincloths. Their naked legs and torsos gleamed with sweat. Sawdust choked the air. Masahiro loitered near Lord Tsunanori’s gate and pondered what to do.
The sentries wouldn’t just let him walk in and start asking people, “Did you see Yanagisawa kill the shogun’s daughter?” Masahiro reached in his bag, took out a scroll container, and approached the sentries. “I have a message for Lord Tsunanori, from the shogun.”
“Thanks, I’ll give it to him,” one of the men said.
“My instructions were to put it into his hands myself,” Masahiro lied.
“I’ll see that he gets it.” The man snatched the scroll from Masahiro.
Masahiro wondered what Lord Tsunanori would think when he opened the empty container. He walked around the estate, peering up at the surrounding barracks, until he reached the back gate. It was open and unguarded. A group of carpenters sauntered in, carrying boards over
Reiko cried out in horror as she recoiled from Namiji’s moist, sour breath. Terrified despite knowing that Namiji wasn’t contagious, Reiko scrubbed her face with her sleeve.
Namiji burst into malicious laughter. “That will teach you to stay away from me!”
The guards seized her and dragged her away from Reiko. Reiko heard her laughing all the way down the corridor.
10
MASAHIRO HURRIED THROUGH Edo Castle, on his way to help his father with the most important investigation of their lives. He wore a leather shoulder pouch and a pole attached to his back that flew a banner printed with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest—his page’s uniform. An official stopped him, said, “Take this message to the north army command post,” and pushed a scroll container into his hands.
Unable to refuse because his position in the regime was already shaky, Masahiro delivered the scroll. Afterward, he met two fellow pages. They blocked his way down the passage.
“What have we here?” said one of them, a surly, thickset boy named Ukyo.
“It’s the great Masahiro, who used to be head of the shogun’s private chambers,” said Gizaemon, the other boy. His little black eyes glinted with mean pleasure in a face like a rat’s. “But he got kicked out of the palace today.”
These boys and others had resented him because the shogun had chosen Masahiro to serve as head of his chambers and bypassed them. Masahiro stood his ground even though Ukyo and Gizaemon were two years older, taller, and stronger than he. “Get out of my way.”
“‘Get out of my way,’” Ukyo mocked him in a girlish falsetto.
Gizaemon snickered. “Say ‘please.’”
Masahiro knew he could beat them in a sword fight. He’d done so at martial arts practice, another reason they were tickled by his downfall. But drawing a weapon inside Edo Castle was against the law, punishable by death.
“‘Please,’” Masahiro said through gritted teeth.
The two boys stood aside. As he passed them, they grabbed him. They wrestled him onto the ground, seized his hair, and banged his face against the paving stones. Then they released him and walked away, laughing.
Masahiro stood up. He wiped his face with his hand, which came away bloody from a cut on his nose. He burned with shame and anger. Remembering how he’d been demoted in front of the assembly at the palace, he blinked back tears. That, and seeing his father brought down by Yanagisawa, had been the worst experience of his life. And this attack was only a taste of trouble to come, Masahiro knew. Yanagisawa would never leave his family in peace. Masahiro held his head high while he strode through the castle, avoiding the gazes of the people he passed. As he exited the castle gate, he swore to solve the murder of the shogun’s daughter and prove Yanagisawa was guilty.
By the time he reached the crowded, bustling daimyo district, the temple bells began tolling noon. The sun shone with a force that promised a hot summer. Laborers repairing the estates had stripped down to their loincloths. Their naked legs and torsos gleamed with sweat. Sawdust choked the air. Masahiro loitered near Lord Tsunanori’s gate and pondered what to do.
The sentries wouldn’t just let him walk in and start asking people, “Did you see Yanagisawa kill the shogun’s daughter?” Masahiro reached in his bag, took out a scroll container, and approached the sentries. “I have a message for Lord Tsunanori, from the shogun.”
“Thanks, I’ll give it to him,” one of the men said.
“My instructions were to put it into his hands myself,” Masahiro lied.
“I’ll see that he gets it.” The man snatched the scroll from Masahiro.
Masahiro wondered what Lord Tsunanori would think when he opened the empty container. He walked around the estate, peering up at the surrounding barracks, until he reached the back gate. It was open and unguarded. A group of carpenters sauntered in, carrying boards over
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