“Yes. Hmm.” Akitada fell into deep thought, and Yamada began to fidget with the keys and shuffle his feet. “Yes,” said Akitada again, coming out of his reverie, “it might work. Here is what we’ll do to catch our thief.”
Yamada’s eyes grew round as he listened, and he shook his head violently at first. But the more Akitada explained, the more he came around, and finally he nodded reluctantly.
“Mind you,” warned Akitada, “you must tell the governor what happened. Throw yourself on his mercy. I believe he is an understanding man and will forgive you if you get the loan back and arrest the thief.”
“But what about Masako? Do we tell her or not?” Akitada wanted to say no, but the girl deserved to be told.
She had proven her devotion to her family and could be trusted with the secret. Akitada feared that she might feel some obligation to him. “Tell her, but don’t mention me,” he advised.
Yamada shook his head. “No. I’m going to the governor now before I lose my courage. You should know that I am a very bad liar. Perhaps I may manage to claim credit for your idea with him, but Masako would have the truth out of me in a minute. You had better speak to her. Oh, dear! She’s at home, waiting for the vegetables. Would you mind taking them? I suppose people must eat.”
“You had better wash before you see the governor.” Yamada looked at his hands and touched the drying mud on his face. “Oh, dear!” he muttered and made for the door. Outside he stopped and came back to pull Akitada out with him and relock the Valuables Office. Then he rushed off again.
Akitada followed more slowly, amused to see Yamada washing himself at the kitchen well in order to avoid his daughter. He went through the garden to pick up the basket of vegetables. In the entrance he set down the basket and kicked off his sandals before stepping up on the wooden floor. There was no sign of Masako.
“Anyone home?” he called out.
“Yes.” Her voice came from the back, and he followed the sound.
“It’s me,” he said loudly, faced with a hallway of closed doors. One of the doors flew open, and Masako looked out.
“Taketsuna?”
She was wearing the old scarf around her head, but her hair had escaped and was slipping down her back and across one cheek. Her face was hot and flushed, and she appeared to be wearing a man’s cotton shirt over an old pair of trousers. There was a smudge of dirt on her nose and one cheek. With her eyes wide and her lips half opened, she had never looked more desirable to Akitada, who stood transfixed.
“I did not expect you at this time of day. Is anything wrong?”
“No. I had a message for your father.”
“Oh.” She became aware of his eyes on her, brushed helplessly at her hair and then wrapped her arms about her middle, looking at the floor in mortification. “I’m ashamed you caught me like this,” she murmured. “I was cleaning the floor and-”
“You look beautiful,” he said hoarsely.
“Oh, no. Oh, I wish I were more like other women, with their beautiful gowns and their elegant manners. I wish you . . .” And she burst into tears.
Later he would find all sorts of excuses for what happened next: having embarrassed her so deeply, he had to reassure her-he merely wished to calm her so he could give her the news-he was only offering her brotherly support.
None of these was true, of course. Akitada took the three steps separating them and opened his arms because he had wanted to hold her for a long time now, had wanted to feel that lithe body against his, had wanted to comfort her with his caresses and be caressed in turn.
Masako came to him with a small cry of joy, nestling against him, murmuring endearments, and responding with a passion which startled him into partial sanity. He loosened his embrace and caught her hands on his bare chest where she had slipped them under his robe.
“No, Masako,” he pleaded. “Please don’t tempt me. Your circumstances are sufficiently improper without this.”
“I don’t care,” she cried. “I have wanted you to love me since I first saw you. I don’t care about me. I don’t care about anything but you.” She pulled him into the room, closed the door behind them, and drew him down onto the matting, tugging feverishly at his sash.
Kneeling above her, he caught her hands again. “No, Masako,” he said, “I cannot take a wife, and you must save yourself for a husband.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Save myself? Don’t be ridiculous.
I’m not a woman of your class.” She flushed. “Besides, it’s too late to worry about that.” When he still hesitated, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh. You do find me disgusting.”
“No,” he cried. “You are beautiful. I want you. More than anything, but . . .” Weakening, filled with desire, he released her hands.
She reached for his face, bringing it so close to her own that he could taste her breath as she whispered, “Prove it, then.” Her breath was so sweet that he tasted her lips with his own and was lost.
Afterward, as they lay together, he cradling her nude body in his arms, she with her eyes closed and a smile curving her lips, he said in wonder, “I came to speak to you about your father’s problem and now I do not know how to face him.”
“Father’s problem?” She sat up and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Tell me.”
It was difficult to concentrate. She had a lovely and utterly desirable body. “I am sorry, Masako,” he said, touching a long tress of hair and following it across one breast and down her small, flat belly. “I should not have done that.” She shivered at his touch, but caught his hand with hers.
“What problem?” she demanded.
He told her about the inspection. She paled and reached for her trousers. Putting them on and then slipping on the shirt, she asked, “Does this mean that the shortage is known?” He marveled at her. One moment she was all passionate seductive female, and the next as levelheaded and businesslike as any man. He said, “No, your father has a plan and, with the governor’s approval, we shall put it into operation tonight.” Reaching for her scarf, she cried, “Oh, no. The governor must not know. I hope Father has not had another urge to bare his soul.” She twisted her hair up and tied it quickly under the scarf. Akitada admired the way her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her shirt. Starting toward the door, she said, “I must talk to him immediately.”
“Too late. He has already left to discuss the matter with His Excellency.”
She turned with a wail. “Oh, no. Then all is lost. How could you let him do such a stupid thing?”
“Because,” he said, getting to his feet and rearranging his own clothes, “I will not take part in an illegal act even if it is to catch a thief. And what we plan is against the law unless it has the approval of the governor.”
“What?” She suddenly looked furiously angry. “So! I see it was your idea. To catch a thief according to the letter of the law, you will ruin my family. And you a convict yourself! What sort of man are you? Did you trade my father’s honor for your freedom?” He flinched and tried to mend things. “You misunderstand.
What we have in mind will clear your father and allow you to return to a normal life. And your father will receive the credit for the capture of the thief.”
After a moment, she asked suspiciously, “What is this plan?” He told her and watched her face begin to relax and her eyes to shine with excitement. “It might work. Very well, let’s get started right away. You and I can move the goods here, and then, after dark, we’ll make a hole in the outside wall.”
“That will not be necessary, Masako. A torn paper covering on one of the windows, a broken lock, and an abandoned iron bar, and it will look convincing enough.” She nodded after a moment. “Yes. You’re right. Less damage is easier to fix.” That settled, she became suspicious again. “How did you find out about the silver bars?”
“It’s a bit complicated.”
Her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her chest.
“Never mind! I want to know.”
“Well, I wondered what would cast a family like yours into such abject poverty that you had to work like this.”
