Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

“Your mother told me about you and Taeko,” Sano said.

“I suppose you don’t want us to marry, either,” Masahiro said.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to.” Sano had an inkling of how Masahiro felt. Before he’d married Reiko, he’d fallen in love with another woman. He’d known from the start that their affair was doomed, but losing her had hurt so much, he hadn’t been sure he could go on living. “I wish you and Taeko could marry. It’s just that you can’t.”

“But I love her.” Masahiro’s hardness melted into pleading.

“You’re young, and so is Taeko. Your feelings will change.”

“No, they won’t! We’ll never love anybody but each other!”

It was no use promising Masahiro he would find a new, better love within an arranged marriage. Sano couldn’t promise Masahiro any marriage at all; no suitable family wanted him. For the first time Sano thought Reiko might be right-he should have given up fighting Lord Ienobu years ago. He had ruined, perhaps permanently, Masahiro’s life. If not for his stubbornness, Masahiro would have been married, with a home and children, and perhaps concubines, before he could fall in love with Taeko. But these notions only made Sano cling harder to his convictions. To abandon them would mean he’d wasted the past four years for nothing, and his honor still required him to vanquish Lord Ienobu.

“If you really love Taeko, then you’ll leave her alone,” Sano was forced to say.

Masahiro waved his wooden sword in a defiant, slashing motion. “I want to be with her. She wants to be with me. You can’t keep us apart forever.”

“If you keep making love to her, she’ll get pregnant.”

“She won’t. We’re careful.”

Sano doubted that they were careful enough. “Break it off with her,” he said, all too aware that he might be permanently ruining his relationship with Masahiro. “For her sake.”

Masahiro flung the sword. It struck the house’s roof. Tiles shattered and fell. “We’re going to marry. I promised Taeko. I’m going to keep my promise.” He stalked away.

* * *

Inside the house, Taeko watched Masahiro and Sano through the window. After hearing their conversation, she felt more desperate than ever. Sano didn’t want her and Masahiro to marry. Would Masahiro really go against his father? If she and Masahiro couldn’t marry, what was she going to do?

Everybody thought that keeping her and Masahiro apart would prevent her from getting with child, but it was too late. She was already pregnant.

“Shut that window, I’m freezing!” said Ume, the maid, in the kitchen behind her. “You’re supposed to help me. Get over here!”

Taeko closed the window and knelt at the table where Ume was cleaning fish. She picked up a mackerel and slit its belly with a knife. The slime and the bloody, rank-smelling fish guts nauseated her. Taeko breathed shakily. She’d begun vomiting in the mornings and at odd times. She’d thought it was just a stomach upset, until she’d missed two monthly courses. When she and Masahiro made love, he tried to protect her by withdrawing from her before he finished, but sometimes he hadn’t been able to control himself, and sometimes she hadn’t let him withdraw because she wanted him so much. And now she was in trouble.

She felt so alone. She couldn’t tell Masahiro. He would be upset and blame her. Maybe he wouldn’t love her anymore. She couldn’t tell her mother, either. Her mother would force her to take medicine that would make the baby come out dead. That was what women did with unwanted babies; she’d heard people talking. The very thought made Taeko feel sicker. She closed her eyes.

“Keep working! Don’t be so lazy!” Ume scolded.

Taeko forced her eyes open and threw the fish guts in the slop bucket. What would happen if she had the baby? Although Reiko and Sano had always been kind to her, they would surely throw her out of their house. That was what happened to unwed girls who had babies. Masahiro would marry somebody else, Taeko would never see him again, and she and the baby would die in the streets. It would be better for the baby not to be born. But Taeko wanted the baby. It was hers and Masahiro’s. She already loved it with all her heart. What was she to do?

Scraping off fish scales, Taeko silently prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before: Please let Masahiro marry me soon! She clung to her hope even though it seemed impossible.

* * *

Alone in the courtyard, Sano gazed at the tile fragments that lay on the icy snow with the wooden sword, which had broken apart between the hilt and the blade. He breathed air that had grown colder in the last few moments.

A servant came out of the house. “Master, there’s a message for you.” He gave Sano a bamboo scroll container and left.

Glad of the distraction, Sano took out a scroll made of cheap rice paper. The characters were written in a clear but plain hand, perhaps that of a scribe hired by someone who didn’t know how to write. Sano read, If you want the truth about Yoshisato’s murder, come to the Shark Teahouse in Nihonbashi today. Come alone. Directions followed. The message wasn’t signed.

Sano didn’t put much faith in anonymous tips; he’d had so many that had turned out to be false. But he was desperate to break through the barrier of secrecy that surrounded Lord Ienobu. He would follow up on the tip before he resumed investigating the attack on the shogun. As he headed for the stable to fetch his horse, he decided not to tell Reiko where he was going. If the tip solved Yoshisato’s murder and put the blame on Lord Ienobu, she would forgive him. If it didn’t, she would never have to know about it.

In the bustling Nihonbashi merchant quarter, the narrow street that sloped down to the Sumida River was oddly quiet. The snow had stopped falling, and the wind carved drifts in the streets. Shop doors were closed behind indigo curtains that hung halfway down the entrances. Smoke rose from chimneys. A few men bundled in cloaks and hoods loitered outside. As Sano rode down the street, they appeared not to look in his direction, but he knew they were watching him. A window opened as he passed a shop, and he heard dice rattle. These shops were gambling dens. One of the men outside raised a tobacco pipe to his mouth. Blue tattoos decorated his bared wrist. This street was a haunt of gangsters.

Sano’s instincts went on high alert. Gangs controlled the gambling dens, operated illegal brothels, ran protection rackets, and killed people who crossed them. The tsunamis and the Mount Fuji eruption had driven them from devastated areas into Edo, and the incidence of gang-related violence had soared. Sano knew his patrol guard’s uniform wouldn’t protect him. Gang initiation rules required the novices to kill before they became full-fledged members, and killing a Tokugawa soldier would score them extra points. Sano thought of the battle he’d lost last night. Years ago he could have beaten single-handedly a whole mob of gangsters. Now he hoped they didn’t sense his fear.

Midway down the block, two young gangsters leaned against the wall of the Shark Teahouse. Daggers and clubs hung from their sashes. The law permitted only samurai to carry swords, but that was of little comfort to Sano. Above the entrance hung a shark’s jawbones with rows of sharp, pointed teeth. Sano dismounted and tied his horse to a post. The gangsters eyed him as he ducked under the curtain. The door grated open. An old man peered out.

Sano introduced himself. “Did you send me a message?”

The man stood back for Sano to enter an empty room in which two cushions sat on opposite sides of a low table that held two cups. A sake decanter warmed on a charcoal brazier. Sano wondered if Lord Ienobu had set him up to be murdered in a way that would look like a random crime, and he had an urge to run, but his inner voice whispered, Stay.