Tomoe’s death would not be avenged lawfully.
But at least there was no immediate danger. One or two of the men, the Scarecrow among them, still scowled when they looked at him, but Kata seemed friendly enough. The Scarecrow had taken Kata aside to report right after they arrived, but the conversation ended with Kata firmly shaking his head and the Scarecrow slinking off.
Kata was in excellent spirits, smiling broadly and joking with his men until it was time to push back the sliding doors and begin the daily lessons.
For the first time Kata put Tora to work drilling students. Hoping to pick up a little more information before drifting away from the place for good, Tora complied. He worried about the man in the storehouse. During one of the breaks, he asked Kata about the epidemic.
“Good for business,” was the only comment he got.
“The Scarecrow said we’re moving to another place. Where are we going?”
Kata waved him away. “Back to work. You’ll find out soon enough.”
The morning passed slowly. Tora was not yet up to continuous sword practice, even when it was not competitive. He tried to conserve his strength, but felt Kata’s watchful eye on his back. He was also wary of Matsue, but his archenemy did not show up. In fact, the other gang members left, leaving only the students, Kata, Tora, and Kinjiro.
At midday, the lessons stopped. The morning students departed and Kata also disappeared. Tora collapsed against a wall and closed his eyes. Rest was blissful until his stomach began to growl.
With a sigh he fished out his last three coppers and looked at them dubiously. Kata had not mentioned pay. Still, he could not complain: He had offered to work for room and board, and that had been provided. The trouble was, he had eaten little the night before and only two small rice cakes that morning. He glanced toward Kinjiro, who was replacing the wooden swords in their rack. “Hey, Kinjiro? You want to go to the market for some noodle soup?”
Kinjiro stopped. “Can’t. I’m supposed to watch the place till they get back. You go ahead.”
Tora put his coppers away. He wondered why the boy seemed subdued today and got to his feet. “No. I’ll keep you company. Too much food makes me sluggish anyway.”
Kinjiro grunted and went to get a broom. Apparently cleaning the training hall between sessions was part of his duties. Tora watched him for a while, then said, “Wouldn’t you rather do some other work? You could be an apprentice…” His voice trailed off. Honest trades, like mat weaving, cloth dying, paper making and so forth, would not appeal much to the youngster after the exciting adventures promised by Kata and his men. The danger in a criminal career was part of the thrill. Kinjiro probably dreamed of moving up through the ranks until he became an officer himself, maybe even someone like Matsue.
Kinjiro gave a snort of derision. “Too late for that.”
This surprised Tora. “What do you mean?”
The boy shot him a pitying look. “No tradesman’s going to take me on. I’ve got a reputation.” He said it almost proudly.
“You’ve been stealing,” Tora accused.
“That too. But mainly I collect the money.”
Tora opened his mouth and closed it again. Of course. Kata was taking protection money from merchants in the market. Tora could not recall who had told him. For a weekly fee, Kata’s hoods were supposed to protect the merchants from other gangs. If a man did not pay up, they would demonstrate the foolishness of such behavior by ransacking his business themselves. And Kinjiro was sent to collect the money. Naturally he could not now apply for honest work.
Tora had developed a soft spot for the boy. Kinjiro had fallen into a life of crime because he had been abandoned and nothing else had offered. He was trying to make the best of it, but apparently he was not such an enthusiastic gang member after all. Maybe his upbringing in a decent home by a respectable father had something to do with that. Or maybe he lacked the selfish cruelty and bovine stupidity which made for contentment in a life of crime.
“If you could be anything in the world, what would you be?” Tora asked.
Wielding his broom viciously, Kinjiro swept some debris out into the street. “His Excellency, the chancellor, of course,” he sneered. “He’s got more wealth than anybody and tells the emperor what to do.”
“No, seriously.”
The boy leaned on his broom. “I’d want to be what my father was.” He immediately began his sweeping again. “And you?” he asked. “You think you’ll have it easy here? Just drill the students for a few hours every day? Maybe walk to the market with Kata Sensei, watching out for his enemies? You’re a bigger fool than me. If you had any sense, you’d leave now and never come back.”
The last was said so fiercely that Tora’s uneasiness returned. He got up and grasped Kinjiro’s arm. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What’s happened?”
Kinjiro shook loose. “Nothing. I’m just talking,” he muttered and went for an old rag, which he put under his broom to dust and polish the floorboards to pristine cleanliness before the afternoon’s lessons.
“Kinjiro, you heard something. They talked about me, didn’t they? I know Matsue’s trying to get me. He almost did. And now the Scarecrow thinks I’m spying on him. I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Kinjiro glared at him. “Maybe they’ve got reason. You’ve been snooping.”
Tora’s heart plummeted. He looked around nervously. If they suspected him, surely they wouldn’t leave him here with just the boy. He locked eyes with Kinjiro. There was not much point in protesting his innocence. “What are they going to do?”
“How should I know? But I wouldn’t hang around to find out if I were you.”
It was good advice. Unless they were lying in wait outside. “Are you supposed to keep an eye on me?” Tora asked suspiciously.
“What if?”
“You’d be in trouble if I ran.”
Kinjiro stared at him. Then he said, “You’re a fool, Tora. Go! What do you care what happens to me?”
“I care. I don’t treat my friends that way.”
Kinjiro said fiercely, “Then go ahead and get killed. Because that’s what they’ll do as soon as they figure out what you’re up to.” When Tora made no move to leave, he cried, “They’ll probably do it slowly. An ear first, then another. Then your nose and your tongue. After that, a hand, a foot, your privates. You aren’t going to know about the rest.” He was practically in tears.
Tora took the boy by his bony shoulders and shook him. “If you know all this about them, what are you doing here? What would your father say?”
Kinjiro tried to free himself. When Tora held on, he cursed and kicked and punched him. Tora ended up wrapping both arms around the thin, gasping figure and holding him until he calmed down. Kinjiro shook with sobs.
He released the boy then but left his hands on his shoulders. “I think we’d both better get out of here,” he said.
Kinjiro sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I could go back to the post stable,” he said miserably. He put away the broom and rag and brushed off his clothes. “All right. I’m ready. Let’s go before they get back.”
But they were too late. The peace of the midday hour was broken by the sound of a large number of people approaching outside. They looked out and saw the gang. Led by the Scarecrow, they walked close together with an air of grim anticipation. It took Tora only a moment to realize the magnitude of the trouble he was in; the group parted and revealed in its midst a lopsided creature who was grinning malevolently at him. The beggar from the market.
Tora thought of making a dash for it. In fact, he had taken a few steps toward the back door, when it opened and Matsue and Kata walked in.
After that, things moved quickly. The gang entered from the street and slid the doors shut. They formed a circle around Tora. Cut off from the outside world, the hall had become dim and secretive. Nobody talked.
The Scarecrow took the beggar by the arm and led him to Kata. “He’s got quite a story to tell,” he announced grimly.
Kata let his eyes slide to Tora, then told the beggar, “Talk.”
