Shinju

endless regiments of more samurai and servants.

Sano ran sideways, hoping to cross the street behind them. He couldn’t bear to lose Lord Niu. But he couldn’t get around the corner; there, the marchers filled the street from wall to wall. Fairly hopping with impatience, he was forced to wait until the whole procession passed.

Finally the street cleared. The peasants picked themselves up and went about their business. Sano dashed across the street and into the alley, only to find that Lord Niu had vanished without a trace.

Cursing his bad luck, Sano raced through the streets, asking shopowners and pedestrians, “Did you see a young samurai on horseback pass this way?”

No one had. Either the procession had claimed all their attention, or else the sight of one ordinary rider was too unremarkable to remember.

Sano refused to give up. He climbed a rickety ladder to a vacant fire-watch tower and looked down over the rooftops to the seething streets. In the distance he saw several horsemen, but he couldn’t tell which, if any of them, was Lord Niu. Then, just as he was descending the ladder, he saw a familiar figure emerge from an inn down the block.

Cherry Eater, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, craned his neck as if looking for someone. He carried a large cloth bundle slung over his shoulder; it thumped against his back as he broke into a run.

Jumping the last few rungs, Sano landed with a jolt and hurried after Cherry Eater. He remembered Lord Niu ordering the shunga dealer to pick up his money today. Perhaps the two of them had arranged to meet again somewhere away from the Niu estate afterward. If Cherry Eater didn’t lead him to Lord Niu, Sano would return to the swordmaker’s shop to look for O-hisa again.

The shunga dealer seemed afraid of being followed. He kept looking back over his shoulder. He would suddenly veer around corners or hide behind notice boards. He ducked into shops and teahouses, waited awhile, then cautiously poked his ugly face out to look both ways before emerging again. Once he stayed so long that Sano wondered whether whatever misfortune he feared had befallen him inside. Then, realizing what had happened, Sano ran around the block just in time to see Cherry Eater come out the teahouse’s rear door and hurry away.

He almost lost Cherry Eater again at the fish market, which sprawled over the banks of the canal beside the Nihonbashi Bridge. Cherry Eater plunged into the vast, noisy building, threading his way through the crowds that choked the narrow pathways between row upon row of stalls. Sano dodged around barrels of live mackerel and tuna and baskets of clams and scallops. The reek of rotting fish filled his nostrils. A cluster of customers haggling over the price of three huge sharks suspended from a horizontal pole blocked his way. By the time he’d elbowed past them, Cherry Eater was far ahead of him, leaning over a table laden with seaweed to talk to the proprietor.

Catching up, Sano heard Cherry Eater shout, “I need my money now! Give it to me!”

“But I don’t have it,” the man protested.

Cherry Eater gave a howl of pure despair. He turned and ran, darting out through one of the arched doorways and into the sunshine. Sano lunged forward. His feet slipped in the fish scales and entrails that befouled the ground, and he almost fell. Why, he wondered, did Cherry Eater need money so badly after extorting a fortune from Lord Niu? He thought of questioning the seaweed vendor, but he mustn’t lose Cherry Eater.

Outside, Cherry Eater made straight for the canal, where fishermen had drawn their boats up to the bank to auction off their catches. Sano hurried after him as he picked his way through the shouting bidders. Cherry Eater squinted at each boat. Then he paused, his drooping posture making it obvious that he hadn’t found the one he sought. He spoke to a few fishermen, and Sano caught a few phrases:

“Have you seen… the boat was supposed to be waiting… ”

Getting only shakes of the head in answer, Cherry Eater headed back toward the market. But instead of going inside, he cut across an alley and entered one of a long line of establishments in a dingy building whose once- white plaster walls had turned a scabrous gray.

Sano hesitated about twenty paces from the doorway. FRESH-CATCH SUSHI, the sign read. Teahouses filled with fishermen and laborers occupied the rooms on either side. When Cherry Eater didn’t reappear immediately, Sano wondered whether to look for him at the back door, or wait in one of the teahouses. Was Cherry Eater meeting Lord Niu now, or just trying to shake pursuers? Sano risked a walk past the sushi restaurant and glanced inside.

A chest-high counter ran along the right side of the long, narrow room, stopping just short of the back wall, where a curtained doorway led to the kitchen. Behind the counter the chef, wearing a blue headband over bushy eyebrows, sliced raw fish, encased it in rolls of vinegared rice and seaweed, and distributed it to his seven customers with remarkable speed and precision. Cherry Eater stood near the end of the counter, his back to the door. Oblivious to the full plate before him, he was speaking in urgent tones to the man beside him.

The room was dim, and hazy with smoke from the customers’ pipes. Sano took another chance. Entering the restaurant, he stood at the counter two places away from Cherry Eater. His neighbors, both ripe-smelling dockworkers, scowled their greetings and reluctantly moved aside to make room for him.

“What will you have, master?” the chef called to Sano, not looking up from his flashing knife.

“Anything that’s good,” Sano answered absentmindedly. Keeping his face averted, he listened to Cherry Eater’s conversation.

The shunga dealer had dropped his bundle. Wringing his insectile hands, he moaned, “Yes, I know it’s a lot of money, and more than we agreed on.” For once he did not offer a wisecrack or veiled insult; anxiety had stifled his wit. “But I need it, and I need it now.”

His companion was not Lord Niu, but a gray-haired, shabbily dressed fat man who answered in a gruff mumble that Sano strained to understand. Was he a moneylender? Or another of Cherry Eater’s blackmail victims? Unfortunately, the chef chose that moment to interrupt.

“Dancing sushi, best in town,” he barked, zinging a plate down the counter toward Sano. “Eat up now.”

“Thank you.” Sano picked up a still-wriggling prawn with his chopsticks and ate it, wishing the chef would keep quiet. He’d missed Fat Man’s entire reply.

“Easy for you to say do not worry,” Cherry Eater railed. “You are not running for your life!”

Sano ate the rest of his prawns without tasting them. Now he grasped the significance of Cherry Eater’s bulky bundle, his panicky flight, his need for money, and the boat. Something or someone had frightened him into an abrupt departure from Edo. Was it Lord Niu? Maybe Cherry Eater hadn’t gotten money from him, but a death threat.

Mumble mumble was all Sano heard from Fat Man.

“I must leave immediately,” Cherry Eater said. “Now where is the money you owe me?”

The chef slid Sano two more plates, announcing loudly, “Tuna and sea bream.”

Sano raised a hand to signal that he wanted nothing more. He saw Fat Man take a pouch from inside his baggy cloak and give it to Cherry Eater. Then he frowned as Fat Man’s hands caught his attention. Too white and slender and graceful to belong to such a gross person, they also looked familiar. Sano had a sudden image of them holding a fan instead of a pouch. He took a closer look at Fat Man-and froze with his chopsticks held halfway to his mouth.

The gray wig and padded clothing effectively changed the man’s age and shape. He’d plumped his face, probably by stuffing cloth in his cheeks and nostrils. But he couldn’t disguise the hands, which tipped Sano off to his real identity.

Fat Man was none other than Kikunojo, the great Kabuki actor-in male attire for another secret rendezvous.

Sano looked away before Kikunojo could recognize him. He’d more or less dismissed Kikunojo as a suspect, but the actor’s sudden reappearance raised strong questions in his mind. Kikunojo had evidently lied about refusing to pay blackmail, and perhaps about other things as well. Had his forbidden affair been with a married woman-or Yukiko? Could he have killed her and Noriyoshi because he feared that either might reveal the affair to the Nius, who would have destroyed him if they’d learned of it? Had he worn a disguise to follow Sano along the Tokaido and kill Tsunehiko?

These questions went unanswered as Cherry Eater dominated the conversation, apparently out of a reckless desire to confide.

“… shouldn’t have asked him for more money… didn’t know how dangerous… he’ll have my head if I don’t get