Tha’ss worth a piece o’ gold, that.’
He had trouble speaking and stopped to feel his front teeth. One of them was loose and started bleeding again. ‘Damn bassards beat me,’ he said unnecessarily.
Tora reached out to help him to his feet. ‘Who are you? Are you really a thief?’
The other stood gingerly and groaned a bit. Then he looked up at Tora. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I’m Jirokichi. And you, my hero?’
Tora stared. ‘You’re Jirokichi? Jirokichi, the thief?’ he asked, dumbfounded.
The other nodded. The little fellow was anywhere between thirty and fifty, for all Tora could tell. With his buck teeth, sharp features, and close-set eyes, he resembled a rodent, but Jirokichi, also known as the Rat, was a legendary and magical person, and this creature looked altogether insignificant in his plain and dirty brown cotton clothes. And his manner was ingratiating.
‘Well,’ said Tora, ‘whatever. I’m Tora, and you look like you could use a cup of wine. Come along. I’m buying.’
The little man gave a chuckle and followed obediently. Tora headed back towards the market. After a while, Jirokichi mumbled, ‘Don’t believe me, do you?’
Tora looked back, hesitated. The real Jirokichi could make himself invisible. Because of this, he could enter wealthy people’s homes while they slept to steal their gold. Among the poor, a kind of religion had developed that venerated the image of a rat, presenting gifts to it and praying that Jirokichi share his wealth with them. There were claims that such prayers had been heard, and that people had found gold in their empty rice bin or under a wooden bucket, or stuffed into their outdoor shoes.
‘Maybe your name is Jirokichi, and maybe you’re a thief,’ Tora said cautiously. ‘It doesn’t matter. We both need a drink.’
But the fellow tugged at Tora’s sleeve. ‘It matters to me.’ The broken tooth caused him to make whistling sounds when he talked.
‘OK, I believe you,’ said Tora, suppressing a grin.
At the market, Jirokichi pointed to a small wine shop with benches outside. This time of day it was nearly empty. Tora saw only a few other guests. Inside, a monk ate something from a bowl and two old men drank wine and played go. Outside, a shifty-eyed man sat and watched the crowd. He gave them a brief glance, then turned his attention back to the market.
Jirokichi lowered himself gingerly on to the bench and shouted, ‘Hoshina! Wine.’
A large young woman appeared from the back of the shop, crying, ‘Jiro, my little turtle, is that you?’ She glanced at Tora and then at Jirokichi. ‘Amida! What happened, lover?’
Jirokichi waved her away and looked at Tora with a blush. ‘She’s great in bed,’ he muttered.
Hoshina reappeared with wine and two cups in a basket. Tora marveled at her size. She was one of the biggest women he had ever seen. Jirokichi’s head would barely reach her ample bosom. She took a wet cloth from the bottom of the basket and knelt down beside the little man, touching his bruised face as lovingly as a mother. ‘You look terrible. Who did that to you, my love?’ She dabbed at the traces of blood.
Jirokichi winced, snatched the cloth away from her, and held it to his swollen lip. ‘Don’ask.’
Tora reached into his jacket to pay for the wine, but Jirokichi pushed his hand away. On me,’ he mumbled through the cloth.
‘I thought those hoodlums picked you clean?’
‘Hoodlums?’ cried Hoshina.
Jirokichi took the cloth away to say, ‘No, no. I had a fall. Now pour us some wine, precious.’
‘Precious’ leaned over him like a pine over a mushroom. ‘My poor darling. Whatever you say,’ she murmured. She poured. ‘Will I see you tonight?’
‘I’m not quite up to it.’
She pouted. ‘Liar. You’re always up to it.’
Jirokichi blushed again and shot Tora a glance.
She raised her chin. ‘Maybe I’ll ask your friend. He looks like he’s up to it.’
Jirokichi gasped, then shot Tora an anxious glance.
Tora laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m a married man.’
‘Pity.’ She poured the wine, whispered something in Jirokichi’s ear, and left.
They drank deeply and sighed in unison. Jirokichi – or whoever he was – certainly looked like a thief. Ask a thief if you want to catch a thief. His color was better, and Tora liked that the little man had not complained about the loose tooth or the pain in his jewels.
‘About those louts that attacked you,’ Tora said. ‘You don’t look like a wealthy man.’
Jirokichi gave him a quick glance, then looked down at himself and brushed some dirt from his pants and jacket. ‘Whath wrong with my clothes? I’m a working man, and I was clean before those bastards got hold o’ me. Leth forget about it.’
Tora’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘After what they did to you?’
‘No’ so loud.’ Jirokichi looked around, then leaned closer. ‘See, where I come from, we don’t make trouble for people like us. We help each other.’
Tora snorted. ‘After what those cruel bastards did to you?’
Jirokichi frowned. ‘They’ll be taken care of.’
Tora changed the subject. ‘I take it you only steal from the rich to give to the poor?’
Jirokichi ignored the sarcasm. He poured more wine, drank, and felt his tooth again. ‘Rich people steal our rice and our labor. I’m taking back what belongs to us,’ he explained.
He seemed serious, but Tora did not believe him. ‘What if someone turns you in to the police?’
Jirokichi raised his shoulders. ‘Life is full of surprises,’ he said.
‘Then you live dangerously. Is it worth it?’
‘Yes. I’m a great man to my people. I’m an artist. I’m no different from a poet or a painter or an archer. I practice my art and polish my style. I watch and I listen. I pick my target. I plan my approach. I execute it perfectly. My body and my mind are trained like a master swordsman’s.’
The little man was full of himself. The only thing he had practiced was telling tall tales. And he had not wanted to talk about the youths that attacked him. There was little point in it, but Tora asked anyway, ‘Since you do all that watching and listening, do you know anything about that last fire in the Sixth Ward?’
Jirokichi stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Come on. You must know about the fires. I’m looking for some young hoodlums just like the ones that grabbed you today. They robbed me of a large amount of gold and silver not far from there. If you’re such a famous thief, surely you know others like you.’
Jirokichi glanced over his shoulder towards the shifty-eyed guest, then leaned closer. ‘I know nothing about any fires.’ He glanced at passers-by. ‘See that boy?’ he said, pointing.
Tora looked. A youngster dressed in blue and white figured silk walked past with the grace of a dancer. ‘He’s nothing like that devil’s spawn you were with or the gang that jumped me. He’s some rich kid or an actor,’ Tora said dismissively. ‘Or someone’s toy boy.’
Jirokichi shook his head. ‘Wrong. He’s also one of the lost boys. The city’s full of them. They have to live.’
‘You think he’s a thief?’ Tora narrowed his eyes as he looked after the youngster. ‘I don’t believe it. The guys I want were street fighters, not pampered boys.’
Jirokichi’s eyes widened. ‘You saw the boys near the fire?’
‘Not well,’ Tora admitted. ‘But they were together, and they may have a female working with them. She knocked me down and got most of my money.’
Jirokichi raised his brows. ‘A female knocked you down?’
Tora flushed. ‘I thought it was a woman. I was drunk and didn’t see her coming.’
‘Ah.’ Jirokichi grinned and nodded. ‘Careless. How much did they get?’
Tora told him in an aggrieved tone. ‘It was to pay off a little piece of land for my wife and son. I’ll never have that sort of luck again.’
Inside the wine shop, the monk was gathering his staff and leaving. The old men clicked their go pieces as before. ‘Plenty of gold around,’ Jirokichi muttered, frowning.
