body. Above all, resist the temptation to gratify your carnal desires. The spear is your manhood. Through it, you shall find true fulfillment.”
Young Kushida had yearned to be a great spear fighter. Hence, he zealously followed Saigo’s teachings. Then one day when Kushida was twelve, he discovered in his father’s study a book of shunga. The frontispiece was a painting of a beautiful naked woman coupling with a samurai lover. A dark, unfamiliar excitement filled Kushida. Instinctively he reached under his kimono. His hands began a motion they’d never been taught. Excitement culminated in blinding ecstasy-followed by anguish and guilt. He’d committed the self-indulgence that Saigo had warned him against, sacrificing discipline to pleasure.
When he confessed his misdeed, the sensei had assigned him extra combat practice and meditation sessions. At first Kushida yielded to his physical urges often, but eventually he overcame his bad habit. He immersed himself in naginatajutsu, attaining impressive skill, and remained celibate. Even while working near the shogun’s women, he could go days, even months, without thinking about sex.
Then Lady Harume came to Edo Castle.
He’d been on duty the day she arrived. When Madam Chizuru introduced her to Kushida, a jolt of recognition rocked him. With her pert face and voluptuous figure, she resembled the girl in the shunga that had provoked Kushida’s first orgasm. Repressed desire exploded in him, and the desire focused on Lady Harume, who’d reawakened it.
Confused by lust, Kushida hadn’t perceived the danger. He decided there was no harm in merely looking at a woman. Thus he’d begun spying on Harume. Soon he stopped combat practice. At night he would stimulate himself to climax while fantasizing about her. He became aware of the loneliness of a life dedicated solely to Bushido. True fulfillment, he discovered, also required union with a woman.
Gathering his courage, he’d confessed his feelings in letters to Lady Harume. When she ignored them and began avoiding him, he persuaded himself that she was just shy, or afraid. He had something precious to offer her: a heart that had never belonged to another woman; a body unsullied by past amorous adventures. How could she not welcome such a gift? So he took the drastic step of speaking his love. But Lady Harume had repulsed him. Her words still hurt like a deep, festering scratch across Kushida’s mind.
“Why do you keep bothering me? When I didn’t answer your silly letters, it should have been clear that I don’t want anything to do with you.” Repugnance distorted Harume’s pretty face. “You must be as stupid as you are ugly. You want me to run away with you? Die in a love suicide with you so we can spend eternity together?” Harume laughed. “You’re not even fit to breathe the same air as me. Now go away and leave me alone. I never want to see you again!”
Humiliated and furious, Kushida hadn’t just shaken Harume and threatened to kill her, as he’d admitted to the sosakan-sama. He’d twisted her arm behind her, covered her mouth when she tried to scream for help, and thrust her into a vacant room. There he’d torn her kimono and forced her to the floor. He meant to kill her, then and there-but first he would have her.
Harume fought back. She bit his hand, and when he loosened his grip, she kicked him in the groin. While he doubled over in speechless agony, Harume laughed. As if to increase his pain, she said, “I already have a lover. I belong to him forever. Soon I shall wear a tattoo that proclaims my love for him, on this body that you want so much.” Then she escaped.
In the terrible days that followed, Kushida realized what had happened. He’d thrown away everything- discipline, self-respect, and the serenity of the pure life of Bushido-for a cheap, shallow girl who didn’t recognize his worth. A girl who would tattoo herself, like a common whore! Out of love grew hatred. Kushida blamed Harume for his misery. He plotted revenge. He would sneak into her room while she slept and drive his spear through her. He would strangle her with his bare hands, while having his pleasure from her. These violent fantasies aroused him as much as his dreams of love once had. But never had he foreseen that her death would fail to ease either his desire or his jealous anger. He hadn’t expected to feel such awful guilt over hurting Harume. He’d tried to steal her diary because he feared she’d recorded his attack on her, but he hadn’t anticipated his current sorry predicament.
Now a new sense of purpose grew in him. He didn’t want to live without his beloved Harume, but he didn’t want to die for her murder, either. The disgrace of a public execution would forever taint his clan’s honor. Somehow he must appease Lady Harume’s spirit and bring peace to his own, while restoring the honor of his family name.
However, he could accomplish nothing while locked in this cell. Restlessness tormented Kushida like spiders writhing in his muscles; the pressure inside him mounted.
Yohei said, “How about a game of go? It will soothe your mind, young master.”
Let me out of here! Kushida almost screamed. He wanted to beat on the walls in rage, yet he forced himself to say calmly, “Thank you for coming, but how can we play go, with you out there and me in here?”
Yohei beamed. “Two boards and two sets of counters. We’ll call out our moves and make them for each other.”
Though he had no wish to play, a plan formed in Kushida’s mind. “All right,” he said.
The retainer fetched the equipment. Through the window bars he passed a lacquer container of flat, round black and white pebbles and a four-legged ebony board with a grid of perpendicular lines incised on its ivory surface.
“You may open the game, young master,” Yohei said.
Kushida placed a black pebble at the intersection of two grid lines. “Eighteen horizontal, sixteen vertical.”
“Four horizontal, seventeen vertical,” Yohei responded.
The pressure grew within Kushida as he set a white pebble in place. Every fiber of him tensed; the need for freedom swelled the blood in his veins. He endured the slow, tedious game, making moves at random. From outside the door came loud snores: The guard had fallen asleep.
“Young master, you’re not concentrating on the game,” Yohei chided. “I’ve captured almost all your pieces, and you haven’t taken any of mine.”
Hating to deceive his friend, Kushida said, “You’re wrong, Yohei. I’m winning.”
Yohei’s puzzled face appeared in the window; he squinted, trying to see Kushida’s board. “One of us has gotten the moves mixed up.”
“It must be me,” Kushida said. “I can’t keep my mind on the game.” Moving close to the window and lowering his voice, he said, “It would be better if we sat together. You could make sure all the pieces are in the right spots.”
Yohei shook his head. “I can’t let you out, young master. You know that.”
“But you can come in here with me.” Seeing indecision pucker the old man’s forehead, Kushida coaxed, “Come on. As long as you leave before the guard wakes up, he won’t care.”
“Well…”
Kushida’s desperation inspired cunning. “You don’t believe I killed Lady Harume, do you, Yohei?”
“Of course not,” the loyal retainer said indignantly. Then his certainty wavered. “But you attacked the sosakan-sama and his men.”
“I didn’t kill Harume,” said Kushida. “I didn’t even know she was going to tattoo herself, so why would I have poisoned her ink jar? But Sosakan Sano needs to make an arrest, so he framed me. I never broke into his house; I never attacked anyone. It’s all a lie!”
Sputtering with outrage, Yohei burst out, “How dare the sosakan-sama falsely accuse my young master? I’ll kill him!”
“And end up convicted for murder yourself? No, Yohei, you mustn’t.” Kushida sighed with feigned resignation. “All we can do is wait for the truth to come out. Then my name will be cleared.” His skin felt tight, his skull ready to explode from the throbbing pressure. “Now open the door and come inside so we can finish our game. I promise I won’t try to escape. You’ve known me all my life, Yohei. You can trust me.” Kushida let his voice quaver: “Besides, I’m lonely. I-I need someone near me.”
Yohei’s eyes brimmed with love and pity. “All right.” He put a finger to his lips and headed toward the door.
Hurriedly, Kushida replaced the go pieces in their container, and tucked it in his kimono. Then came the clank of the door’s iron bar as Yohei pulled it out of the brackets. Kushida lifted the go board by its legs and stood to one side of the door, heart pounding. The guard snored on. Slowly the door slid open. Yohei entered the room on tiptoe, holding the candle.
