The Ninja's Daughter Page 16

  Hiro turned to Yoriki Hosokawa and raised his empty bowl. “Until a moment ago, we were eating noodles. Now, we are having a conversation—or were, until you interrupted.”

  The yoriki narrowed his eyes. “You have no reason to be here. I should arrest you!”

  “I believe Fushimi Inari lies outside your jurisdiction,” Hiro said. “In addition to which, we’ve committed no crime. I merely brought the priest for a bowl of noodles and a tour of the shrine.”

  “The shrine is closed to you today,” the yoriki growled, “and tomorrow also. My father arranged a private performance here, to honor the shogun.”

  “A performance?” Hiro asked. “What kind of performance?”

  “None of your business,” the yoriki snapped, “but important people are coming to see it, and I don’t want you anywhere near this shrine, today or tomorrow. Understand?”

  “Is this not a public shrine?” Hiro asked.

  “Do not provoke me, ronin.” Yoriki Hosokawa lowered his voice. “My father has been planning this event for over a month, and I will not allow you and your foreign master to ruin it. If you haven’t left this place when I return, in no more than ten minutes, I will arrest you both and throw you in prison. Is that clear?”

  Father Mateo bowed. “We apologize for our inconvenient presence.”

  Yoriki Hosokawa looked surprised. “It seems the foreigner has learned some manners overnight.” He raised his chin. “Finish your noodles and be gone.”

  He turned his back and entered the shrine.

  A movement at Hiro’s side announced Haru’s return.

  “Where did you go?” Hiro asked.

  Haru nodded in the direction of the shrine. “That’s Yoriki Hosokawa. He likes to yell, and he hits people too. Father told me to stay away from him.”

  “Is he the man who hired your troupe to perform at the shrine tomorrow?” Hiro asked.

  Haru shook his head. “No—that was his father, Hosokawa Takeshi. Grandfather introduced me to him when he came to arrange the performance. Later, I overheard Grandfather telling Father that the event was strange because the Hosokawa clan is allied with the Ashikaga. He took the job because we needed the money, but he doesn’t understand why the Hosokawa would offer a public show of support for Shogun Matsunaga.”

  “Indeed, that is most curious,” Hiro said. “Almost as strange as your sister, Emi, walking alone by the river at night.”

  “That wasn’t strange. She did it all the time.” Haru looked at Hiro. “But it was a secret—I overheard her telling Chou, the day that Chou accused her of stealing Yuji.”

  “Really?” Hiro asked. “Did they argue often?”

  Haru nodded. “That day was the worst. Emi called Chou an idiot. She also called Yuji a no-talent fake and said he’d never be head of the za.” Haru’s expression turned earnest. “She was right about that. Grandfather already picked his successor. It isn’t Yuji—it’s me.”

  “Does Yuji know this?” Hiro asked.

  Haru shook his head. “It’s still a secret. I heard Grandfather telling Father. They don’t want anyone to know until I’m old enough for bigger roles.”

  “Did Emi know about Botan’s decision?” Hiro asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Haru said. “Chou didn’t believe her when she said it, either.”

  “When did this argument happen?”

  Haru thought for a moment. “Over and over, all the time. Chou thought Emi liked Yuji, and wanted to steal him for herself. But Emi said she would never get married, especially not to an actor.”

  The boy seemed pleased to have such a willing audience for his secrets.

  “Why didn’t Chou believe her?” Hiro asked.

  “About a week ago, she said”—Haru bit his lower lip and paused, as if trying to recall the words—“she said that Emi seduced him by the river. What does that word mean, anyway? Father said it means talking to someone, but that’s not what it sounded like to me.”

  “Don’t question your father.” Hiro had no intention of helping with that particular definition.

  Haru bowed his head in assent.

  The precious minutes had slipped away far faster than Hiro liked. “We should be going, but thank you for showing us the udon.”

  He took the empty bowl from Haru and Father Mateo’s full one, and returned them to the vendor.

  Haru followed. “Are you afraid of that yoriki?”

  Hiro turned to the boy. “I am not afraid of anyone.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Haru grinned. “You’re not like the other samurai.”

  “Are you afraid of the yoriki?” Father Mateo asked.

  Haru shook his head. “I’m not afraid of anyone, either.” He bowed. “Thank you for buying me noodles.”

  Hiro nodded. “You may return to your rehearsal.”

  “Thank you.” Haru bowed again and ran away up the path to the shrine.

  Hiro smiled. As he hoped, the boy had forgotten the coin completely.

  He turned to Father Mateo. “Come on. We haven’t got much time.”

  As they started toward home, the Jesuit said, “I find it a strange coincidence that Emi was murdered just before her family performs for the Hosokawa clan.”

  “Indeed,” Hiro said, “but, like everything else, we do not know if that is coincidental, or something more.”

  “This case has far too many coincidences. Speaking of which, how did you know to ask Haru about Emi and the river?”

  “Satsu told us he was always listening,” Hiro said. “Late last night, I realized the child had probably memorized more than plays.”

  “We should have asked him about the samurai who threatened Botan.”

  “That happened later at night,” Hiro said. “Most likely after the boy was asleep. More importantly, Haru would mention that kind of question. If we’d asked about the extortion, and Haru didn’t know it happened, he would ask Satsu about it later on. As it is, if Haru mentions anything, it will be eating noodles with a samurai.”

  “So the udon was a ruse.”

  “I always want udon,” Hiro said, “but now, I also want to speak with Chou.”

  CHAPTER 40

  The elderly female servant who answered Hiro’s knock invited them inside the Yutoku-za. Rhythmic chanting echoed through the house from the rooms beyond. The monks had commenced the mourning rituals for Emi’s soul.

  “No,” Hiro said. “We prefer to speak to her here.”

  Chou arrived at the door in moments. “Good morning.” She bowed. “I apologize, but my father has left for rehearsal.”

  “We came to speak with you,” Hiro said, “about Emi and Yuji.”

  Chou glanced over her shoulder, stepped outside, and closed the door. “I apologize for not inviting you in, but visitors would interrupt the prayers for my sister’s spirit. Would you be willing to talk at Chugenji?”

  “I prefer to walk by the river.” Hiro turned west, toward Sanjō Bridge.

  Chou walked alongside him, face cast down. Every few steps, she glanced at Hiro as if wishing she could ask a question.

  After the third such glance, Hiro snapped, “Speak up, if you have something to say.”

  “I apologize.” Chou bowed her head. “I am afraid. Has something happened to Yuji?”

  “Lying to a samurai is as foolish as hitching a stallion with rotten rope,” Hiro said. “The rope will break, and the horse will turn against you.”

  He expected Chou to react with confusion. Instead she stopped and bowed.

  “I beg you, please don’t kill me.”

  “Give me a single reason why I should not.” Hiro laid a hand on his sword.

  Chou remained bent forward, face to the ground. “I feared you would blame Yuji for Emi’s death, if you knew the truth.”

  “Because he killed her, and you helped him,” Hiro bluffed.

  “No”—she fell to her knees in the road—“he did not kill her. I did not help him. I swear this is the truth.”

  Her rea
ction seemed honest, but Hiro continued to push. “You have lied to me twice. Now you will tell your story to the magistrate.”

  “Please . . . no.” Chou’s voice caught. “He won’t believe me.”

  “I do not believe you either!” Hiro glanced at Father Mateo, but saw no concern on the Jesuit’s face. He frowned. Normally, Father Mateo objected to aggressive treatment of a woman.

  Father Mateo nodded in Chou’s direction as if to say, “Get on with it.”

  “Please . . .” Chou gestured to Father Mateo. “You are a priest. Show mercy.”

  “Trusting a liar is the same as handing a sword to a child,” Father Mateo looked at Hiro. “I believe that is the Japanese proverb.”

  “Close enough.” The priest conflated a pair of sayings, but Hiro found it impressive that the Jesuit remembered them at all.

  Chou clasped her hands together. “Please, I beg you, hear my explanation.”

  Hiro looked at Father Mateo. The Jesuit looked away.

  “Not even the foreigner believes your lies,” Hiro said. “Continue at your peril.”

  “Yuji was only one of the men my sister met by the river. I know there were others, but not their names. She wouldn’t tell me who they were.

  “I didn’t tell Father because I didn’t want Yuji marrying Emi instead of me. I was afraid that if Father found out he would cancel my betrothal and make Yuji marry Emi. I couldn’t risk it. Yuji means everything to me.”

  “Why would you want to marry a man who dallied with your sister?” Father Mateo asked.

  “You are not a woman,” Chou said, “so maybe you cannot understand. Yuji is handsome, and he will be famous. Every woman wants him. I am not pretty, or special, but Yuji wanted to marry me, and for that I would overlook his . . . indiscretions. Actors are often unfaithful to their wives. It is their way.”

  “You would overlook his behavior, but not Emi’s,” Hiro said.

  Chou looked up, forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I am sorry. . . what do you mean?”

  “You argued with Emi—repeatedly—about Yuji,” Hiro said.

  “I told her to leave him alone. This was her fault. She approached him first—Yuji said she seduced him, but only once, and he promised it would never happen again.”

  “Did Emi agree to leave Yuji alone?” Father Mateo asked.

  Chou nodded. “She denied seducing him, even though I know she did. She said she didn’t care for Yuji and only met him by the river because he threatened to hurt me if she refused.

  “When I told her what Yuji said, her story changed. Then she claimed she seduced him to test his loyalty, to prove he was an unfaithful liar. She said I should thank her for revealing his faults before we married. She called him a no-talent actor who would never lead the Yutoku-za. She said”—Chou’s voice caught—“‘The crow who mimics the cormorant gets drowned.’”

  “What do birds have to do with acting?” Father Mateo asked in Portuguese.

  “Please!” Chou’s eyes went wide with terror at the sound of the foreign words. “I’m telling the truth. I swear it. May a thousand demons haunt me if I lie!”

  She prostrated herself on the ground.

  Hiro decided to let her worry and answered the priest in Portuguese. “The expression means that a man who tries to rise beyond his abilities will fail, and also come to no good end.”

  “Wise words,” the Jesuit replied in kind, “and often true.”

  “Please don’t take me to the magistrate,” Chou pleaded. “Every word I’ve said today is true.”

  “Get up.” Hiro gestured. “It strains my neck to watch you on the ground.”

  Chou complied without a word.

  “Can you prove that Yuji did not kill your sister?” Hiro asked. “Lovers’ quarrels often end in violence.”

  “He did not kill her,” Chou repeated. “I told him the terrible things Emi said, but he just laughed and called them the empty words of a jealous woman. He said I had nothing at all to fear.”

  “When did this conversation happen?” Hiro asked.

  “At sunset, on the day she died. He came to me, looking for Emi, and I told him what she said because I wanted him to hate her.”

  “What happened then?” Father Mateo asked.

  “He called her a liar and said he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. That’s when he said she seduced him, but only once. He promised to find her and tell her it was over between them, once and for all.”

  “And your sister was murdered that very night,” Hiro added.

  “That is why I lied to you,” Chou said. “I knew I shouldn’t, but I was afraid. Yuji swore that he didn’t kill her. He said he went to the river, but only to tell her it was over. He promised that when he left, she was alive—and I believe him.”

  “I do not care what you believe,” Hiro growled.

  A breeze spiraled a handful of fallen leaves across the road. One of them caught on the hem of Chou’s kimono. She looked down. “Yuji made a mistake, but he would not—did not—kill my sister.”

  Chou raised her face as if remembering something. “I can prove it. The killer gave Emi a golden coin, but Yuji has no gold. He spends his money as soon as he earns it. He never has more than coppers in his pocket.”

  “Perhaps he found another source of coins,” Hiro said.

  Father Mateo nodded. “Such as stealing a mask from the Yutoku-za.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Hiro inwardly cringed that Father Mateo had revealed the missing mask.

  “Yuji would never steal from us.” A flush of anger colored Chou’s cheeks, though she struggled to keep her tone respectful. “All of the masks will belong to him when he becomes the leader. Only a fool would steal what he already owns—or will inherit. Besides, the masks are sacred. Yuji would never diminish the guild by taking them away.”

  The reaction suggested Chou was unaware of the missing mask. Had she known, she would have accused someone else, or at least acknowledged its disappearance.

  Hiro had no intention of allowing the priest to reveal any more. “Tell us what you know about the other men your sister met by the river.”

  “I promise I know nothing more.” Chou clasped her hands together. “Emi said that one of the men was going to get her a place in a teahouse. Maybe that man gave her the coin.”

  “He said he would get her a place . . . or buy her one?” Hiro asked.

  “Is there a difference?” Chou replied. “It seems the same to me.”

  “Not necessarily. Which word did your sister use?”

  Chou shook her head. “She might have used them both—or something else. I don’t remember.”

  “You remember nothing more?” Hiro asked.

  “Nothing,” Chou repeated. “I have told the entire truth.”

  “Make sure you have,” Hiro threatened. “Next time, you will not escape the magistrate.”

  “I understand—and thank you.” Chou bowed deeply.

  Hiro continued toward the river. After a moment’s hesitation, Father Mateo followed. When he drew alongside Hiro, the Jesuit said, “I suppose we need to talk with Yuji.”

  “I doubt it will help. He won’t admit to anything, and we should not approach the actors again if we can avoid it. Yoriki Hosokawa will be watching.”

  At the bridge, they started north along the river road.

  “Why do you suddenly care what the yoriki thinks?” Father Mateo asked.

  “The magistrate spoke to Father Vilela,” Hiro said. “In Japan, the message that sends is very clear. I cannot protect you if you are in prison. Especially if I am imprisoned also.”

  A voice behind them shouted, “Halt!”

  Hiro knew the voice before he turned. “Good morning again, Yoriki Hosokawa.”

  The yoriki stood directly behind them, flanked by a single, scruffy dōshin. He didn’t return the greeting.

  “What were you doing in the theater ward?” he demanded. “Don’t deny it. We saw you make the turn from Shijō Road.”

/>   Hiro heard footsteps approaching from behind. A thin young man stepped off the path and hurried around them, keeping well away from the confrontation. He gave the yoriki a nervous glance as he scurried past.

  The young man’s face seemed vaguely familiar, but Hiro didn’t have time to search his memory. The youth had already disappeared behind the Shijō Bridge.

  Hiro wished that he and Father Mateo could do the same.

  “My business takes me to every ward in Kyoto,” Father Mateo said. “Just now, I spoke with a girl who needs my help.”

  The yoriki narrowed his eyes at the priest. “You’d better be referring to your religion, not investigating crimes.”

  “Do not worry,” Father Mateo said. “If I was any less involved in solving crimes, I would qualify to join the Kyoto police.”

  Hiro stared at Father Mateo, unable to believe the priest had just insulted the yoriki again.

  “How dare you!” The yoriki’s cheeks flushed red. He reached for his sword.

  Hiro stepped forward and laid a hand on the hilt of his own katana. “Think before you draw that blade. The emperor considers the foreign priests his personal guests. This one has committed no crime. He is unarmed, and he is my employer. If you draw that sword, you fight with me.”

  Yoriki Hosokawa gave Father Mateo a calculating look. “What is it worth to you to stay out of trouble?”

  “Pardon me?” Father Mateo asked.

  Hiro could hardly believe what he was hearing.

  “Give me the coin you received from the dead girl’s family,” the yoriki said, “and perhaps I will forget I saw you here.”

  “What are you talking about? What coin?” Hiro spoke quickly to keep the priest from answering.

  “The one you showed to the magistrate yesterday. I want it now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hiro said.

  “Liar. I heard you showing a coin to the magistrate.” Yoriki Hosokawa’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

  “Then you also know he told us to return it.” Hiro remembered the rustling noise outside the magistrate’s office as they left.

  Yoriki Hosokawa nodded at Father Mateo. “For his sake, I hope you didn’t.”