feel colder and heavier than ever. He’d hoped to feel some solace in the thought of giving up. It should have comforted him. At any rate, that’s what the abbot of Katto-ji would have said: give up everything, and when you have nothing more to lose, you will lose all fear of loss. But if I surrender
“The life of the
“Is that why you followed me all this way? Hoping to recruit me?”
Katsushima chuckled. “If I wanted to recruit you as a
Daigoro wished he could smile too, but he couldn’t muster the energy. “Tell me the truth, Goemon: why do you still follow me?”
Katsushima swallowed. “We should discuss that another time.”
“I cannot say how much more time we have.”
“We’ll talk after we’ve rested.”
Daigoro shook his head. “I cannot say how much rest we’re likely to get, either. We are quarry. The arrows bound for us are already in flight. And apart from all that, if we do not keep our tongues waggling, I’m apt to doze off and fall out of my saddle. Tell me, Goemon, why do you still ride with me?”
Katsushima’s face grew stern. “You’re drowning, Daigoro. You need someone to help you keep your head above water.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to carry your family and your father’s image and all the rest of it. It’s too much for a drowning man to bear, Daigoro. You need to let them go.”
Exhausted as he was, Daigoro had trouble following the metaphor. He actually felt as if his armor were pulling him off his horse; it was not hard to imagine it dragging him underwater. “Speak plainly,” he said. “I do not understand.”
Katsushima’s face grew sterner still. “I speak in circles because I don’t wish to give offense. We approach a crossroads, you and I. You have a problem in Shichio and a problem in your family. There is a single solution for both problems, one I’ve hinted at before. I can solve both problems for you with one stroke of my sword, but you bar me from doing so. You can solve it too, but you bar even yourself. A man can hold up his drowning friend, Daigoro, but only for so long. Sooner or later he must let him go or drown with him.”
“I’m too tired for this, Goemon. Just tell me what you mean.”
“No. You need to reach this conclusion yourself. Shichio means to marry your mother. In so doing he will destroy your clan forever. You cannot kill him; he is out of your reach. So what do you need to do?”
“I don’t understand—”
“Yes, you do. All it takes is one stroke of your sword to save your family name.”
“Who—?”
“You tell me, Daigoro. Who must die to save your family?”
Daigoro’s pulse pounded in his ears. His breath came short and quick. He had to press against his saddle horn to keep himself upright. “My mother,” he said. “You’re telling me to kill my mother?”
“Of course.”
Daigoro stammered. A hundred objections bubbled up, but the only word he could make intelligible was “Why?”
“Is it not clear? You should have put her out of her misery months ago.” Katsushima scowled, his voice harsh and low. He was losing his patience. Daigoro wished he could think faster, but he was just too tired, and Katsushima’s suggestion was too enormous for him to grasp.
“No. I cannot—”
“She is a constant distraction. Were it not for her, your negotiations with the Soras would have been a success, Inoue Shigekazu would be your ally instead of your father-in-law, Izu would be stable, and your house would be the stronger for it. Now she is the key that will unlock the Okuma clan. You cannot allow Shichio to take that key, Daigoro. If you don’t destroy it, he’ll use it to destroy you.”
“No.” Daigoro’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. He was scared and angry—angry not at Katsushima but at himself. Why could he not think faster? Everything Katsushima had said was true, but still, was there no counterargument?
“There must be another way,” Daigoro said, but even to his own ears his voice sounded feeble.
“Perhaps there is,” said Katsushima, “but that is why we stand at a crossroads. To me the right path is obvious. If you want to look for a different path, then here is where we part company. I cannot watch you destroy yourself, Daigoro. Standing up to Shichio and Hideyoshi was noble. Throwing yourself on Shichio’s sword is stupidity. And that is what you do if you allow him to marry your mother. He’ll turn your own men against you. It is more than foolish; it’s appalling, and I will not stand by and watch you do it.”
“I’m so tired,” Daigoro said. “I can’t think. . . .”
“What need is there for thinking? You need only to act. Ride with me, north and east, as fast as we can. Put your mother out of her misery. Save the rest of your clan.”
“No. I can’t kill her, Goemon. I just can’t. And neither can I allow you to do it.”
Katsushima frowned. “I will not kill her without your permission,” he said, “but I will not watch her sink you either. She is ballast, Daigoro. She will pull you under unless you ship her overboard.”
With that Katsushima put his heels to his horse. Daigoro’s chestnut mare ambled to a halt, bending her head to eat a tussock of grass growing along the edge of the Tokaido. Daigoro was too tired to make her change her mind.
He watched as the white dust settled in Katsushima’s wake. Now more than ever, he felt utterly alone.
BOOK SEVEN
HEISEI ERA, THE YEAR 22
(2010 CE)
41
“Do I have to call him?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Mariko looked down at the phone in her hand, then looked back at her partner. She and Han sat at their desks in Narcotics, canned coffee at their beck and call. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, desk fans hummed, all background music to the ever-present murmur of a dozen different conversations. In short, the unit was abuzz, as well it should have been given the case Mariko was running. Cultist fanatics were at large in her city, well supplied with drugs, cyanide, and the willingness to distribute them liberally.
Mariko’s sole advantage was a hard-nosed lieutenant who was willing to go to the mat with any commanding officer, anytime, to get what he wanted. Sakakibara reassigned every cop in his unit and commandeered another six or seven detectives besides, handing out orders like a blackjack dealer dealing cards. Back when Sakakibara first gave her this case, Mariko thought she was investigating the Kamaguchi-gumi on a simple trafficking ring. Now she lived under the cold, dark, looming shadow of a potential mass murder. She had two officers in the field trying to track down Akahata. Two others were working on Urano Soseki, the Kamaguchi- gumi’s capo, pressuring him to testify that Akahata was the one who delivered the Daishi. She paired another
