“Because you’re my son, and you’re in trouble. And because I want to help.” Yanagisawa watched the fierce independence in Yoshisato resist his need to put his troubles in the hands of a father who would protect him. Yanagisawa admired Yoshisato’s strength. He realized that however much he’d loved Yoritomo, he’d never admired his favorite son; he’d always thought of Yoritomo as weak, not especially clever, and too submissive.
“Oh, I see.” Scorn twisted Yoshisato’s mouth. “To advance your political schemes, you need a son, and you found my half brothers lacking. So you can’t have me condemned as a traitor. And if I go down for treason, so do you. You wouldn’t like that.”
Again, Yanagisawa realized that Yoshisato’s affection wouldn’t be easily won. He resisted his tendency to use charm and glib words to get what he wanted. “I’ll be honest with you. I do need you to further my schemes, and I don’t want to die.” He saw Yoshisato’s eyes narrow. “But that’s not the only reason I want to save you. I think you’re a man who’s worth saving.” He was embarrassed to say something so personal and true, afraid it would meet with derision. “As a matter of fact, you’re one of the few men I’ve ever known who is.”
Yoshisato stared, astonished by the genuine esteem in Yanagisawa’s words. He took a step toward Yanagisawa, then stopped. “Then you must have more talent for making enemies than friends. Which of your enemies is attacking me to get at you? Is it Chamberlain Sano?”
“No,” Yanagisawa said, surprised that Yoshisato had gleaned more information about politics than he’d expected of such a sheltered youth. But then Yoshisato was his son. Politics ran in Yoshisato’s blood. “It’s Lord Ienobu.”
“The shogun’s nephew.” Yoshisato sounded appalled. “You’ve gotten us into a real mess, haven’t you?”
His disapproval stung, but at least he now appreciated the seriousness of his predicament. “Yes,” Yanagisawa said, “Ienobu is a powerful enemy. That’s why I don’t want to hear you say that you don’t need my help and you’re going to convince the tribunal that you’re innocent. That’s not only foolishness; it’s suicide.”
Frowning at the harsh words, Yoshisato said, “Well, then, how do you think you’re going to save me? Can you get the order rescinded? Or make the tribunal acquit me?”
Once the shogun had signed an accusation of treason-no matter whether he’d been manipulated into it-he couldn’t rescind it without losing face. Yanagisawa hadn’t yet regained enough influence to convince the shogun that losing face to save Yoshisato wasn’t so bad. He also had no authority over Ienobu’s judges. To think that he’d once been the most powerful man at court! Yanagisawa regretted those lost, glorious days.
“No,” he said. “I can’t.”
“Just as I thought.” Yoshisato looked disappointed, but smug because he’d correctly assessed the situation. “So I might as well defend myself in front of the tribunal. Because there’s nothing else to do but go down fighting.” He squared his shoulders, held his head high. Yanagisawa ached with pride in him. “When I’m convicted, I’ll be ready to commit seppuku.” He added, with a touch of sardonic humor, “You’d better be ready, too.”
Nettled because he didn’t want Yoshisato to think him so impotent, Yanagisawa said, “Don’t sharpen your sword just yet. There’s another way to get you out of this.”
“How?” Yoshisato regarded him with hope tainted by suspicion.
“If you could win the shogun’s favor before the trial-”
Yoshisato uttered a sound of repugnance. “I don’t like sex with men. I’d rather die.”
Yanagisawa admired Yoshisato for standing up for himself, as Yoritomo never had. “I’m not asking you to become the shogun’s concubine. I have a plan that’s far better.” He beckoned Yoshisato.
Yoshisato took another step toward him, as if irresistibly drawn, then stopped.
“I don’t want anyone else to hear this yet,” Yanagisawa said. “Not even your mother, who I’m sure has her ear to the wall.”
Reluctant, Yoshisato moved closer. Yanagisawa whispered into his ear.
As soon as Yanagisawa finished speaking, Yoshisato recoiled. Stunned wordless, he gaped at Yanagisawa.
“Well?” Yanagisawa said, gratified by his son’s reaction yet uncertain about what it boded. “Are you going to cooperate?”
Yoshisato sputtered, then asked, “Do you really mean to go through with this?”
“Can you think of a better idea?”
Shaking his head, in awe as well as in reply, Yoshisato chuckled. “I underestimated you, Father.”
“Many have.” Yanagisawa noticed that this was the first time Yoshisato had verbally accepted their kinship. It warmed his heart even though Yoshisato had spoken with grudging respect rather than fondness. “My plan depends on you. Are you with me or not?”
Yoshisato bit his lip and frowned. Yanagisawa could feel the pressure on him: This was the first adult decision he’d had to make. “I’m with you,” Yoshisato said with a smile that was half wry, half malicious. “What have I got to lose?”
When Sano returned home, he was so tired he thought that if he closed his eyes for too long when he blinked, he would fall asleep on his feet. If only he could keep moving, one foot after another, long enough to reach his bed before he collapsed.
The damaged mansion looked lonely and inhospitable amid the ruins of the barracks. With the crisscrossed beams that supported the veranda roof, the entrance resembled a giant cage. Shadowy forms of wild, restless animals moved behind the bars. More creatures roamed the surrounding darkness. Sano realized he was dreaming; he roused himself. While he plodded toward the building, the door opened. There stood a small figure. It was Akiko.
Sano’s heart lifted as he climbed the steps. Taking her hand, he said, “What are you doing up so late?”
“I wanted to see you.” Akiko hopped up and down on the veranda. Her feet were bare.
“Let’s go inside before your poor toes freeze.” Sano heard a clatter as something hit the floorboards near him, then running footsteps in the distance. He looked down and saw a lumpy object the size of a small melon. A yellow flame sizzled at one end.
“What’s that?” Akiko stooped to pick up the object.
A danger signal blared through Sano. He yanked Akiko away from the object and gave it a swift, hard kick off the veranda. It flew through the railings and exploded in midair.
Akiko screamed. The blast hit Sano like thunderclaps against his ears. He caught Akiko up and whirled her around to shield her from the hot, orange fireball that seared his eyes. The blast hurled him and Akiko against the house. He felt sharp, piercing sensations, like arrows striking his back, and Akiko’s screams vibrating through her body. The house shuddered. Blinded and dazed, Sano smelled fire, smoke, and sulfurous, acrid gunpowder; he heard creaking and rumbling noises. The supports holding up the roof were coming down. Timbers clubbed his back. Sano shielded Akiko with his body as he fell. A post struck his head with a tremendous bang, and everything went dark.
Shrill screaming awakened Sano. Brutal pain throbbed on the right side of his head. His whole body ached. Moaning, he opened his eyes. Grit stung them. Warm liquid flowed onto his face, which was pressed against the hard surface where he lay. He tried to move, but heavy weights across his back and limbs pinned him down. He knew something bad had happened, but he couldn’t remember what.
Underneath him, someone wriggled and screamed. Akiko. Memory resurged. The bomb. The explosion. Thank the gods she was alive!
Sano became conscious of urgent voices clamoring, Reiko frantically calling his name and their daughter’s. Lanterns bathed him in light. Weights lifted off him. Sano groaned, in relief because he could move his arms and legs. Unseen hands cleared away the beams, planks, and roof tiles that covered him and Akiko. She crawled out from under him, jumped up, and cried, “Mama!”
Reiko knelt beside him, hugging Akiko. Her face was terror-stricken as she bent, touched his face, and cried, “Speak to me!”
“I’m all right.” Dust caked Sano’s mouth. He knew Reiko must have been in the house during the explosion. “Are you?”
“Yes.” Reiko called to the guards who’d lifted the wreckage off Sano. “He’s bleeding! Fetch a doctor!”
“Akiko?” His first concern was for her.
“She’s fine,” Reiko said. “Not even a scratch on her, that I can see.”
