Shinju

Sano realized that he could hear them because the bells had stopped ringing. He resisted the buffeting tide of humanity and pushed forward. He had to see-

In a space cleared by the departing crowd, a man lay dead, an arrow through his chest. Sano expelled a long, shaky breath of relief when he saw that it was one of the bodyguards. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi stood amid his remaining men, unhurt but obviously shaken. He pointed at the corpse, then toward the roofs. He scowled. He struck his men with his fists. His feminine costume contrasted sharply with his unladylike fury as he berated his men in angry whispers, probably demanding to know who the assassins were, and how they’d learned of his presence in Yoshiwara. Hands spread in helpless confusion, the guards ventured answers that he cut off with more blows.

Suddenly Lord Niu’s plan became glaringly apparent to Sano. Ignoring the doshin, who had fixed him with a suspicious stare, he hurried toward the shogun. He pushed past everyone who got in his way. The shooting had been just a ploy to scatter the crowd and divert the guards-a prelude to the real attack. He had to warn Tokugawa Tsunayoshi that there were eighteen more assassins yet to come.

“You, there,” the doshin said. He elbowed aside a pair of stumbling drunks and strode up to Sano. “Come over here.”

Oblivious to the danger, Sano looked beyond the shogun toward the far end of the street. Among the fleeing bystanders, he saw three samurai who didn’t appear in any hurry at all. Dressed in plain dark kimonos, with straw hats that shadowed their faces, they hung back and let others pass them. They were separated by some ten paces, with the man in the middle of the street slightly in the lead and the others flanking him. As they neared the shogun’s party, they let the distance between them close and quickened their pace as a unit. The lead man raised his head for a brief look at the rooftops. The lanterns lit his tense young face. Sano recognized Lord Maeda from the secret meeting.

“Your Excellency!” he shouted, hurtling forward. “Behind you. Look out!”

Instead of turning, the shogun and guards stared at him. Lord Maeda was within a few steps of the guard that stood between him and Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. His hand went to the hilt of his sword.

Then, whether because of Sano’s warning or because he’d sensed danger, the guard whirled. Lord Maeda whipped his sword from its scabbard. He swung it sideways and over his head. Before he could bring it down on his victim, the guard had his own weapon unsheathed in his left hand. He sliced a brutal gash across Lord Maeda’s chest. Lord Maeda screamed. His blade sank deep into the man’s neck. Both fell to the ground, mortally wounded.

A new uproar broke loose as people who hadn’t yet left the street ran for safety. Shrill screams came from the women in the pleasure houses. Sano dodged running men. The doshin grabbed his arm.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you know about this?”

Sano ignored him. “Take cover!” he shouted at the shogun. “There are more of them!”

But the time for escape had passed. More dark-robed men appeared out of nowhere. They surrounded the shogun’s party, thwarting the guards’ efforts to hurry their master indoors. Suddenly the street swarmed with darting fighters and flashing blades. Steel rang upon steel. Hoarse cries filled the night. In the midst of the tumult stood Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, the military dictator who preferred the genteel arts to the martial, Confucian studies to affairs of state. Unarmed, he cowered behind the cover of his men, a pathetic figure in his rich robes and long wig. His white makeup gave a ghastly comic look to his confused, panic-stricken face.

The doshin let go of Sano and shouted for his assistants as he joined the battle. The guards fought with the brave and deadly expertise befitting top Tokugawa warriors, but the defense was outnumbered two to one. Sano drew his sword and plunged into the melee.

One of Lord Niu’s men rushed at him, sword raised. Sano sidestepped and spun around. He slashed his attacker across the back. The man screamed and fell facedown, dead. Sano felt rather than heard another man coming at him from behind. Dropping to one knee, he pivoted, delivering a low cut that slit the man’s belly and left him lying on the ground near the first. It happened so fast that Sano had no time to think. Years of training had prompted his actions. Now the knowledge that he’d killed for the first time roared through his soul like a hot, fierce wind.

He had done what he’d assumed he never would-fought in the service of his lord. He was a samurai in the truest sense. Fired with excitement and ardor, he leapt to his feet and turned to do battle again. He would save the shogun after all!

One glance around chastened him. The doshin and both assistants had fallen. The bodies of guards and Lord Niu’s men lay crumpled in the street. A member of the conspiracy slashed and stabbed two outsiders who had taken up the fight. Then he joined his three remaining fellows in an advance on the four surviving guards who formed a protective cluster around the shogun. The cluster tightened as the conspirators steadily backed the defense against the stone wall. Blood stained the garments of all the combatants. The best against the best; evenly matched. Then, as Sano hurried to the aid of the Tokugawa forces, he saw a dark-robed figure slip out of a doorway and into the street. The man’s face was turned away, but he walked with a familiar stiff gait.

Lord Niu.

With a cry of agony, one of the guards fell. His absence left a gap in the shogun’s human shield. Before the other men could perceive and fill it, Lord Niu shot forward, unsheathing his sword.

“No!” Heedless of his own safety, Sano threw himself in front of Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. His blade checked Lord Niu’s in a resounding clang.

The glee on Lord Niu’s face turned to fury. His eyes blazed even brighter than usual. In a gesture so quick that Sano didn’t see it, he whisked the mask off Sano’s face with the tip of his blade. He bared his teeth in a savage smile.

“You,” he said. “Still interfering in my affairs. Do you never learn your lesson?”

Paralyzed by sudden terror, Sano could only stare in silence. Lord Niu could have killed him in that same casual stroke. The knowledge destroyed the confidence that his first two victories had given him. Against his will he remembered Lord Niu’s impressive performance in the practice hall. The upraised sword wavered in his hand. He wet his suddenly dry lips and forced himself to speak.

“I, Sano Ichiro, will not let you kill the shogun,” he said in a voice that sounded timorous to his own ears.

Lord Niu laughed outright, a high, demonic cackle that made the hairs rise on Sano’s nape. His nostrils flared as if he could smell Sano’s fear. “You cannot stop me,” he said. “You can only die in the effort. But if you choose, then so be it.” Holding Sano’s gaze, he crouched, poised to spring, sword ready.

As Sano faced Lord Niu, he focused a part of his mind inward, on his spiritual center. He sought the calmness, mental clarity, and inner harmony that directs and empowers a warrior during combat. But he found only chaos and turmoil from which no energy flowed. He couldn’t banish pain, fear, or memory; he couldn’t neutralize the power that these distractions held over him. That essential state of concentration eluded him. Without it, he was just a trained mechanism deprived of a guiding force. He was lost.

Lord Niu struck. His sword whipped across the space between them with an audible hiss.

Sano parried, an instant too late. The blade sliced his left shoulder. Only his instinctive turn sideways kept it from continuing downward across his chest to his heart. Searing pain tore a gasp from his throat. He launched a counterattack, cutting empty air as Lord Niu easily dodged. A spate of blood warmed his skin; his life was pouring from him. The guards, still occupied with Lord Niu’s men, couldn’t help. They didn’t understand that Lord Niu posed a greater threat to their master than all three of the others. But if Sano couldn’t save the shogun, he would at least give him the means to save himself.

He ducked as Lord Niu’s blade sang in a circle over his head. His grazed scalp burned and tingled. With his left hand, he pulled his short sword free of its scabbard. The movement worsened the pain in his shoulder; black dots stippled his vision. For an awful moment, he thought he would faint. Blindly he flung the sword backward, shouting, “Here, Your Excellency!”

He had no time to see if the shogun had caught it. The whistling arc of Lord Niu’s blade cut at him again and again. It battered his own sword, making two strikes for every one of his. He escaped mortal injury only by letting Lord Niu drive him away from the man he must protect.

Out of desperation, he resorted to verbal attack. “Your mother is dead,” he shouted at Lord Niu. “She killed herself tonight, when she learned you were a traitor!”