James Clavell - Gai-Jin

Through a great silence, she said, "Thank you, Furansu-san. Then please, as you agree it has begun, as you have promised, please give me the knife."

His eyes were bloodshot, the corners of his mouth flecked with foam, sweat pouring off him and he was near madness. His mouth opened and his mouth said with finality what he always knew he would say: "No knife. Kinjiru! It-is-forbidden! Cannot.

Cannot. You too value. Forbidden. No knife."

"You refuse?" Gently asked, no change in her.

"Hinodeh, you sun, my sun my moon.

Cannot. Will not. Never never never. Forbidden. You stay. Please. Je t'aime."

"Please, the knife."

"No."

A long sigh. Docilely she bowed to him, a light gone out in her, and fetched a damp towel and a dry one and knelt beside the bed. "Here, Sire."

Scowling, sweat-stained, he watched her. "You agree?"

"Yes, I agree. If that is your wish."

He caught her hand. She let it lie in his. "Truly agree?"

"If you wish it. Whatever you wish," she said but sadly.

"No ask knife, ever again?"

"I agree. It is over, Furansu-san, if that is your wish." Her voice was gentle, her face in repose, different yet the same, shadows of sadness there. "Please stop now. It is over. I promise I will not ask ever again, please excuse me."

The weight came off him. He went weak with relief. "Oh Hinodeh, je t'aime, thank you, thank you," he said, his voice breaking, "but please no sad, no sad. Je t'aime, thank you."

"Please do not thank me. It is your wish."

"Please no sad, Hinodeh. I promise all be very good now. Wonderful. I promise."

She nodded slowly. A sudden smile washed her face and all the sad away. "Yes, and I thank you, and yes, no more sad."

She waited while he dried himself then removed the towels. His eyes followed her, feasting on her and his victory. She padded across the tatami to the other room and brought back their two sak`e flasks. With a sweet smile she said, "Drink from the flasks, better than cups. Mine hot, yours cold. Thank you for buying my contract.

A ta sant`e."

"A ta sant`e, je t'aime."

"Ah, so ka! Je t'aime." She drained the flask, choked a little, then laughed, wiped some off her chin. "That was good, so good. Come to bed." Gaily she slid under the covers. "Come to bed, Furansu-san, you risk a chill."

The grand-tasting drink cleansed his mouth and took away the death feeling he had had. Slowly he moved the coverlet off her, aching for her.

"Please, no more dark. Please?"

"If you wish it. No more dark. Except to sleep, neh?"

So gratefully, he bowed his head to the futon, reborn, and thanked her and lay beside her, loving her, craving her monstrously. His fingers reached for her.

"Ah, Furansu-san, may I rest first, please?" she asked tenderly, as never before. "So much passion has tired me. May I rest a little, please? Later we... later, neh?"

His flaring disappointment that almost turned to fury was difficult to contain. In a moment, as kindly as he could, he said, "Of course." No longer touching, he lay back.

"Thank you, Furansu-san," she whispered tiredly. "Please, can you reach the lamp? Turn the flame down, I wish to sleep a little, only a little while."

He obeyed and lay back, loins tormented with desire.

In the darkness, she was more content than she had been in years, content as in the days before her husband died and they lived in their little Yedo house with their son, the boy who was safe now, already with his grandparents, accepted, protected, and growing up samurai.

Bad of Furansu-san not to give me the knife as he promised. Despicable. But then he is gai-jin and not to be trusted. Never mind, I knew he would not keep his part of the bargain as I have kept mine--whatever Raiko promised.

He lied when he signed, as she lied. Never mind, never mind. I was prepared for both of them, both liars.

Her smile broadened. The old herbalist did not lie. I tasted nothing, feel nothing, but death is coursing in my body and only a few minutes remain in this World of Tears.

For me and for the Beast too. It was his choice.

He broke his promise. So the Unclean pays for cheating me. He will cheat no other lady. And goes to death unquenched!

He stirred, hearing her light, odd laughter.

"What?"

"Nothing. Later we will laugh together. No more dark after tonight, Furansu-san. No more dark."

Hiraga slammed his fist on the tatami, tired of waiting for Akimoto. He went out into the blustering night and trudged the paths through the garden to the door in the fence. Through it to Takeda's house, missing the turning the first time. On the veranda he stopped. Snores came from within. "Akimoto, Takeda?" he called out softly, not wanting to open the shoji without warning, every one of them dangerous if surprised.

No answer. The snores continued. He slid the door aside noiselessly. Akimoto was slumped over the table, sak`e flasks and beer bottles strewn over the floor. No sign of Takeda. Angrily he shook Akimoto, cursing him. The young man came out of his stupor blearily, half awake. "What's the matter?"

The words were slurred, Hiraga's face out of focus and swirling.

"Where's Takeda? Wake up! Baka! Where is Takeda?"

"Don' know, just we... just drinking..."

For a second Hiraga was transfixed, his whole world turned over, then he rushed out and through the garden to the fence and the cache.

His mind fogged. Then their plan they all knew, where the bombs would best be placed, surged at him. Panic lent speed to his feet. He peered under Takeda's house but could see nothing, then he caught a wiff of gunpowder smoke and ducked down and crawled between the low, stone supports but the fuse was too well hidden, its smoke dissipated by the stiff currents of air.

Out again and up into the room to shake Akimoto, "Get up, wake up!" When the youth drunkenly tried to shove him away, Hiraga struck him across the face, openhanded, then again. Pain tore him back to slurring consciousness.

"Takeda's taken the bombs, he's firing the Inn, there's one below..." Hiraga dragged him roughly to his feet. Mumbling, leaning on him, Akimoto staggered out and fell down the steps onto the garden path, the sound of the wind fierce.

At that moment the bomb exploded.

The blast was small, enough to knock them over and blow a hole in the floor, most of the noise muffled by floor joists, and by the wind. But the spray of ignited oil was deadly.

Flames gushed up and outwards.

"Go into the tunnel and wait there," Hiraga croaked hoarsely and ran. The shock of the blast and such near death blew Akimoto's stupor away. He started to run but the wind gathered some embers and threw them at him. Frenzied he beat at his clothes and backed off and by the time he looked at the house once more it was an inferno--dry rice husk tatamis, dry oiled-paper screens, dry wood floor and beams and thatched roof. As he watched the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks that were swiftly sucked up and driven by the wind to swoop on to the next dwelling.

The thatch caught. Fire bells began sounding-- maids, servants, clients, courtesans, guards on the gate beginning to respond.

Hiraga was racing down the path to the south-most house. A few metres away the bomb went off. The blast was smaller than before but it sent him sprawling into the bushes, crashing his body against a decorative stone dragon causing a cry of pain, the explosion powerful enough to collapse a whole corner of pilings and a corner of the house, causing the dwelling to lurch and tip drunkenly.

A wall burst into flames.

He forced himself up and without hesitation leapt on to the veranda and crashed through the burning shoji wall, the sprayed oil already working its mayhem inside, smoke choking. His hands went to his face against the scorching heat and he held his breath against the smoke.