Laura Rowland - The Shogun's Daughter

This ruthlessness sounded just like the man Yanagisawa had always suspected Ienobu to be. This detail fed the beast in his mind that fought to convince him that Ienobu was telling the truth. The politician in him scorned the story as pure fabrication.

“Why would you save Yoshisato?” Yanagisawa demanded. “If he’s alive, he’s the shogun’s first choice for an heir. He’s a threat to you.”

“Because I need him,” Ienobu said. “He’s not the only threat. There are people who don’t want me to be the next shogun. I want you to help me neutralize my opposition. You’re good at that kind of thing. When I’m shogun, you can have Yoshisato back.”

The cruel manipulation, the nerve, the self-delusion of the man! “I was right. You are insane. I would never lift a finger to help you. And I won’t listen to any more of this.” Yanagisawa vehemently denied his own cherished delusion. “Yoshisato is dead. You can’t trick me into thinking otherwise.”

“Here’s proof that he’s alive.” With a sly smile, Ienobu reached under his sash and pulled out a sheet of white paper, which he offered to Yanagisawa.

Despite his better judgment, Yanagisawa snatched the paper and opened it. He saw black characters written in Yoshisato’s bold, graceful, yet precise hand. The letter was dated the day after the fire. Even as tears of yearning stung his eyes, Yanagisawa said, “This is a forgery.”

“Don’t be so quick to debunk it. Read it first.”

Against his will, Yanagisawa read:

Honorable Adoptive Father:

You’ve really outdone yourself this time. You got me kidnapped by your enemy Ienobu! I never imagined that anyone could match you in ruthlessness, but he does. If you ever want to see me again, you’d better cooperate with him. On second thought, it would be better for you if you didn’t cooperate. Because if I get out of here alive, I’m going to kill you. After all the trouble your schemes have caused me, and my poor mother, you deserve to rot in hell.

Yoshisato

Yanagisawa could almost hear Yoshisato speaking the words. Ienobu couldn’t have written them. Ienobu couldn’t have known how Yoshisato and Yanagisawa talked to each other.

“Handwriting is easily faked, but the voice is more difficult.” Ienobu clucked his tongue. “Yoshisato doesn’t like you very much, does he?”

Yanagisawa wanted to bury his face in the letter and weep with the joy of a father who finally believes that his dead child has been miraculously resurrected. Instead he glared at Ienobu, who’d made him suffer the anguish of thinking Yoshisato had been murdered and now sought to use him. He grabbed the front of Ienobu’s robe.

“Where is he?”

“In a safe, secret place, with my men,” Ienobu said. “Take your hands off me.”

The guards started toward Yanagisawa. He flung Ienobu away from him. “The shogun will be overjoyed to hear that his son is alive. He’ll make you tell me where Yoshisato is.”

“You won’t breathe a word of this conversation to him or anyone else.” Ienobu’s eyes gleamed; he enjoyed Yanagisawa’s distress. “If you do, I’ll have Yoshisato killed. You’ll never see him again.”

Yanagisawa boiled with fury and hatred. “I’ll kill you!”

“If anything bad happens to me, or if you refuse to support me as the next shogun, Yoshisato dies,” Ienobu said.

In spite of himself Yanagisawa felt a grudging esteem for Ienobu, who’d bettered him in imagination and audacity. Yanagisawa had never dreamed of, let alone attempted, such a move.

“If you cooperate with me, you get him back safe and sound.” Ienobu smiled expectantly, confidently. “Well? Do we have a deal?”

The wild beast inside Yanagisawa thrashed and bellowed. Yanagisawa desperately wanted Yoshisato to return. Rationality screamed at him not to be deceived. “You’ve no reason to bring Yoshisato back. If you do, the shogun will disinherit you in favor of him. You’re going to string me along, while I dispatch your enemies for you, until you’re shogun. And then you’ll kill Yoshisato so that he can’t raise a revolt against you.”

“That’s a definite possibility,” Ienobu agreed. “But remember: Unless you cooperate, Yoshisato dies. For real.”

All his life Yanagisawa had taken pride in his ability to find a way around a problem. Now he found none, saw no choice but the bargain offered by Ienobu. Desperation pushed him to accept even though he didn’t trust Ienobu to uphold his part of the bargain, even though it was so humiliating. He would accept for Yoshisato’s sake.

“All right.” The words tasted as foul as excrement in Yanagisawa’s mouth. “You win.”

Ienobu nodded as if he’d never doubted he would. “By the way, you can keep your post as chamberlain. It will give you the authority to do what you need to do for me. Oh, and when you dispatch my enemies, start with your friend Sano.” He turned and shuffled over to his guards. They accompanied him into the palace.

Yanagisawa stood alone in the garden, consumed by rage yet less bereft and lost than when he’d walked out of the assembly. “You win for now,” he said to the absent Ienobu. “But I’m going to find Yoshisato. And I swear that as soon as he’s safe, I will kill you, you bastard.”

* * *

Still groggy from the medicine the doctor had given her, Taeko sat on the veranda, her right arm in a sling, watching the ducks swim in the pond. Yesterday seemed like a dream. Her shoulder had hurt so bad that it had blanked out her memory of much that had happened. She did recall her mother crying over her, the doctor saying her shoulder had been dislocated, and fainting because of the awful pain when he reset it in the socket. The rest was hard to believe.

Masahiro came out of the house. Taeko snapped fully alert. He looked as shy as she felt with him. He crouched near her and asked, “How’s your shoulder?”

Looking sideways at him, Taeko said, “Better.”

He nodded, then frowned. “You shouldn’t have climbed up on the tower. It was stupid and dangerous. When you caught me, we could have both fallen and been killed!”

Taeko was relieved as well as saddened by his scolding. The scene on the tower really had happened. She glanced at Masahiro’s ankle. Just above the top of his white sock was a purple bruise that encircled his ankle, dotted with raw, red gouges from her fingernails.

Masahiro sighed. “That’s not what I meant to say.” He said gruffly, “You saved my life. Thank you.”

She heard new respect in his voice. It gave her the confidence to look directly at him. Their eyes met. His were serious, without the usual annoyance, teasing, or condescending affection.

“Why?” Masahiro sounded puzzled. “Why did you risk your life to save me?”

Taeko didn’t have the words to express her feelings, but she couldn’t hide them, either. As she gazed at Masahiro, all her love shone out from her eyes.

His eyes darkened with astonishment. A shadow of fear crossed his expression. This boy Taeko had thought wasn’t afraid of anything was afraid of how much she cared for him, how much she was willing to do for his sake. Something in the air changed. The garden shimmered and flowed, like a painting with water poured on it. Masahiro’s image blurred. Taeko had a sense that years had passed in an instant. She knew, without knowing how she knew, that she was seeing the future. Someday, when she and Masahiro were older, they would be much more to each other than they were now. Their fates were connected.

Clarity returned to the world. Masahiro abruptly stood up. He looked confused, as if he’d experienced something he didn’t understand and didn’t know whether he liked. His trousers covered the bruise around his ankle, but Taeko knew it was there. She had the strange, comforting idea that she’d put her mark on Masahiro.