Year of the Demon

Daigoro was in learning how to govern his clan and maintain stability in Izu, he had no time for courtship. That made Inoue Kameko a sound choice. He knew her. She’d taught him to read and write, and later taught him poetry and calligraphy. She was patient, sweet, kind, and conscientious.

And she was thirty years Daigoro’s senior. She would bear no sons, and the Okumas desperately needed sons.

That shifted Daigoro’s thoughts in a different direction. The last time he’d seen Inoue Kameko was at his brother Ichiro’s funeral. With her was a younger sister, one whom Daigoro guessed to be close to his own age. Kameko had attended out of respect for Ichiro, also a former student of hers, and the little sister was there as her attendant. But what was her name?

He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye. She’d worn white, with tiny red leaves woven into the silk. The leaves were red, aka, for aki, autumn. . . .

“Akiko,” Daigoro said. “What of her? She came to my brother’s funeral. That was very generous of her. As I recall, she’s unmarried, neh?”

Inoue’s eyes narrowed. Vertical lines furrowed between his eyebrows. He sipped his tea rather than speaking. There were only so many reasons for a reaction like that. Daigoro had backed him into a corner. But how?

However he’d done it, it wouldn’t do to let up now. The girl was obviously precious, the brightest star in her father’s sky. And she was important for some reason. But Daigoro couldn’t see what it was. He struggled to keep the uncertainty out of his voice, to speak as congenially as if Inoue were his oldest friend. “How old is your Akiko? I’d have guessed she’s close to my age, but if I may speak frankly, her face is as pure and bright as it must have been on her first birthday. It’s hard to guess the age of a beautiful girl like her.”

Lord Inoue finished his tea. Daigoro filled his cup for him, never taking his eyes off Inoue’s face. The wizened little daimyo studiously avoided his gaze. “Marriageable age for certain,” Daigoro said. “Unless you’ve got a husband in mind for her already. General Toyotomi, perhaps?”

Inoue’s gaze darted to the floor, then the wall, the teacup, the tabletop. Aha, Daigoro thought. I’ve got you. “Well, no matter,” he said, his tone rosy and light. “If she’s spoken for, she’s spoken for. Still, I wonder how one so young could have angered her father so much that he’d be willing to toss her out like a mud-stained kimono.”

That got Inoue to look up. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Inoue-sama. Even the regent must bow to the coin. Toyotomi presses the war far and wide, but he seldom fights. More often he treats, neh?”

“You dare ask me? If it were not for me, no one in Izu would know the name Toyotomi, much less his exploits.”

It was a gross exaggeration, but Daigoro was happy to see he’d struck a nerve. He bowed, and in his most apologetic tone he said, “Of course. I meant only to point out that this is a man who buys his victories by giving lands to those who concede defeat. He expands his empire without expanding his purse. It’s risky, neh?”

“Risky?” Inoue scoffed. “It’s damned clever—and I thought you were bright enough to understand just how clever. Don’t you see? A defeated daimyo who retains his own territory thinks he’s won. He thinks mustering troops at Toyotomi’s command is no hardship, when in fact all the fool has done is to ensure that he’ll always be the one who pays to keep Toyotomi’s army fed. If the regent asks for ten thousand troops, then that is how many the local lord must assemble, and in the meantime the man has ten thousand bellies to fill.”

“Begging your pardon, Lord Inoue, but the risk I spoke of isn’t Toyotomi’s. It belongs to his womenfolk. How many wives and concubines must he have by now? Imagine what it must cost to keep them clothed and housed in a style that befits the regent’s own household.” Daigoro paused for a moment, to let Inoue envision just how lavish that lifestyle must be. “It might not go so badly for your daughter if General Toyotomi were constantly expanding his personal wealth, but he isn’t. Akiko will be the smallest cub in a litter already starving for its mother’s milk. By this point those women must be clawing at each other for the smallest bauble. But no doubt you’ve foreseen all of this, which only leaves me to wonder how awful a daughter’s crime must be for her own father to throw her to the wolves.”

“Hm.” Inoue smoothed his slender mustache with a thumb and fingertip. He was otherwise speechless for a long, pregnant moment.

At last he said, “You see much for a boy of your years. You impress me. And I would not see my daughter become a discarded concubine living in a hovel.”

“Like any loving father,” Daigoro said.

“If I were to offer you Akiko’s hand in marriage, would you accept?”

Daigoro blinked and looked out at the sky. Had he just outmaneuvered the great Inoue Shigekazu, or had Inoue outmaneuvered him? Daigoro’s first goal had been to gain the benefit of Inoue’s spy network. A marriage to the apple of his eye would accomplish that. But his next most important goal was to retain his family’s most powerful asset: his own bachelorhood, and with it the possibility of alliance through marriage. Now, rather than trying to avoid wedding a barren daughter, he’d pressured Inoue into offering him his most desirable daughter. Or had he? Perhaps Inoue played the fool all along, hoping to get Daigoro to push him to just this conclusion.

Either way, Inoue had asked the question, and he’d asked it from a position of weakness. Had this been a duel, Inoue would have been on his back, disarmed and helpless. No man of honor could kill him in such a position. In effect, Inoue was begging him for mercy. And a true follower of bushido had no choice but to grant his wish.

Father, I wish you were here, Daigoro thought. I wish you could tell me the right thing to do. He had no doubt that his family would be stronger with the countless eyes and ears of the Inoues. Nor did he have any doubt that the old man seated across from him would bully his new son-in-law whenever and however he could.

Equally doubtless was the fact that if Daigoro said no to Akiko’s hand, Inoue would take it personally. He’d borne his silly grudge against the Soras for decades. No doubt he would use the full might of his spy network to hurt the Okumas. He might even look for new ways to marry his children to Daigoro and Daigoro’s mother. Daigoro wasn’t even sure he’d outfoxed the old man this time around; he certainly didn’t know how many more times he could pull it off.

And there was the last consideration: what Izu needed now, more than ever and more than anything, was stability. As lord protector of Izu, Daigoro knew his duty. A marriage between his clan and the Inoues would bring stability.

What should I do, Father? Compromise our family’s position in order to stabilize Izu? Or compromise Izu in order to leave our family better positioned for the future?

Daigoro had no idea what his father would say. He knew only that his father had an aphorism, one he’d repeated countless times through Daigoro’s childhood: A samurai makes every decision in the space of seven breaths. The path of bushido was not for the hesitant.

•   •   •

The feast that evening was a thing of beauty. The Okuma cooks truly outdid themselves: roasted sparrows so delicate that they almost melted in the mouth; soft tofu artfully sculpted and dyed; shrimp flecked with gold; sushi of every description: squid and octopus, lobster and roe, eel and egg. Sake flowed. Toasts were made. The scullery maids would be washing dishes until sunrise.

Then came the musicians, and clapping and dancing, and after much prodding Lord Inoue stood up to sing. Even Daigoro’s mother seemed to be having a good time—owing in part to the poppy’s tears, no doubt, but only in part. Daigoro himself could have used some of her medicine; his broken fingers still felt like they were made of broken pottery. He watched his mother singing along and smiled. If anyone ever needed cause for celebration, it was her.

An hour into the festivities, Daigoro finally allowed Katsushima to corner him. “I’m pleased to hear you’ll finally be dipping your wick,” Katsushima said, “but are you certain you’ve made the right choice?”

Daigoro bent closer, the better to be heard over the shamisen and shakuhachi players. “No. But with Akiko as the dowry, Inoue could have bought a greater house than ours. He sacrificed and we sacrificed.”

“Who sacrificed more?”

“I don’t know yet. But Mother is having fun, and that’s something I wasn’t sure I could buy for any