Bundori: A Novel Of Japan

offering it for Shichisaburo’s scrutiny. “See how large it is, how potent,” he murmured, caressing himself.

As if mesmerized, Shichisaburo gazed upon the organ, eyes blank with uncomprehending fascination.

Lord Takei had made sure that none of his men had already used the young page Yanagisawa-although they would later. He’d reserved the first turn for himself. Yanagisawa had reacted to Lord Takei’s self-exposure just as Shichisaburo was doing now.

“This,” Yanagisawa intoned, “is manhood in its most beautiful form.”

Wounded and disillusioned by his encounter with Lord Takei, the young Yanagisawa had wept every night when the other pages couldn’t see him. With the stoicism of his samurai upbringing, he’d suffered the humiliation and pain of subsequent abuse. But gradually he’d begun to see how he could use Lord Takei’s obsession with him. Soon he’d risen to the post of chief page. His precocious intelligence had enabled him to assume duties normally entrusted to the daimyo’s adult retainers. As a young man he’d quickly advanced through the ranks of these. So when, at age twenty-two, word of his beauty and talent reached Tsunayoshi, the young shogun-to-be, Yanagisawa was ready for greater opportunities.

“This is the glory and the power you must aspire to.” Yanagisawa moved closer to Shichisaburo. “Touch me.”

He shuddered with pleasure as the boy’s delicate hands stroked his shaft, fondled his scrotum. Shichisaburo was better than he, in his inexperienced awkwardness, must have been with Lord Takei.

But not as good as he’d been with the shogun.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi-weak, trusting, sensual-had quickly fallen under Yanagisawa’s control. As he enjoyed Yanagisawa’s company in the bedchamber, so did he depend on his counsel. With Tsunayoshi’s ascension to the position of shogun, Yanagisawa became chamberlain. He exacted tribute from the daimyo, the Tokugawa vassals and retainers, and anyone else who sought the shogun’s favor. His fortune grew. But money wasn’t enough. Always he craved greater wealth, higher status. He wanted to be a daimyo-a landowning lord-himself. He wanted to rise above those who had once been his superiors. He yearned to be rid of the fear that the capricious shogun might suddenly transfer his favor to Sano. And he would do anything to achieve the absolute power and freedom to fulfill all desires that the past had instilled in him.

“Take me in your mouth,” he gasped now.

Shichisaburo knelt and lowered his head. His warm, wet lips closed over Yanagisawa’s organ, sucking and licking. Yanagisawa forced himself to keep his eyes from closing in rapture. Watching someone else submit, as he once had, was the best part of the ritual. Knowing that now it was not he but his victim who suffered humiliation.

To Yanagisawa, humiliation was an integral component of sexual gratification. In his youth it had aroused him even as it withered his self-respect. Now he craved the cruel joy of abasing his partners. Especially the shogun. Oh, he felt a certain condescending affection for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. They shared many interests-religion, theater, Confucian studies. The shogun doted on him, showered him with gifts and compliments. Sex between them was still pleasurable-although they both preferred boys- and allowed Yanagisawa to maintain his hold on the shogun. But in his deepest soul, Yanagisawa hated Tsunayoshi as an authority figure who dominated him as Lord Takei had.

And how he hated Sosakan Sano, who had not only garnered the shogun’s attention, but was also free from the demons of compulsion, and as honorable, well-intentioned, and as full of integrity as he himself should have been.

Yanagisawa banished the thought of Sano. He moaned, giving himself over to pleasure. At the brink of climax, he withdrew from Shichisaburo’s mouth. It was time for the next step in the ritual.

“Rise, Shichisaburo,” he ordered hoarsely. “Turn.”

His hands on his docile victim’s shoulders, Yanagisawa walked Shichisaburo to a low table against the wall. He smiled at the terrified, bewildered glances that Shichisaburo threw over his shoulder. Such perfect acting.

“Now I will initiate you into the rites of manhood.”

He lifted Shichisaburo onto the table. He raised the boy’s kimono, and gasped at the sight and feel of the soft, naked buttocks. He moved his hands around to caress the boy’s small organ, which stiffened at his touch.

Like his own had, under Lord Takei’s hands.

Then, with a groan like that of a wounded animal-his imitation of Lord Takei’s-he drove his organ into the hot, tight mouth. of Shichisaburo’s anus.

Shichisaburo screamed in simulated fear and pain. “No, master! No!” His hands clawed the wall, leaving scratches among the others already there.

“How dare you defy me?” Yanagisawa demanded.

Jaws clenched, he plunged in and out, excitement mounting. Across the distance of twenty-four years, he heard his own childish screams, felt his own hands against rough plaster, felt the tearing pain as Lord Takei violated his body. And he remembered the sublime moment when he’d first penetrated Tokugawa Tsunayoshi after a year together, finally reversing their roles to become the dominant partner. Since then, no one had ever taken him. He was the taker now.

Shichisaburo’s cries turned to whimpers; his body went limp. These cues nearly drove Yanagisawa mad with arousal, but he held back, awaiting the boy’s final response, the one that would bring the ritual to its climax.

“… please… ” A tearful plea.

Yanagisawa’s excitement peaked in a cataclysm of pleasure. He shouted out his orgasm. But as always, he experienced a triumph infinitely more satisfying than any physical sensation.

Never again would anyone dominate him, punish him, or make him suffer the humiliation he feared above all else. It was he who dominated, punished, and humiliated others.

No one must interfere with his rise to power. He would rule the land, if not as shogun, then as the next best thing. No one would ever relegate him to his former status as powerless victim.

Especially not Sosakan Sano Ichiro, whom he must and somehow would destroy.

Chapter 20

The Hinokiya Drapery Store-one of Edo’s best-known shops, and centerpiece of the suspect Matsui Minoru’s business empire- stood in the newer merchant district north of Nihonbashi. Sano followed the main approach to the store, urging his horse up the steep slope of Suruga Hill toward the famous view of Mount Fuji that adorned its crest. Around him, porters hauled goods to and from the shops that lined the broad thoroughfare. Food sellers staggered beneath loaded trays; water vendors swung buckets; browsers loitered before the storefronts. But these ordinary sights failed to reassure Sano. He rode with his hand on his sword, eyes alert, and with a growing sense of unease. Danger still lay in wait for him. And he could see that news of the priest’s murder had spread faster than his calming message.

Newssellers shouted, “Read the latest! After killing a hatamoto, a ronin, and an eta, the ghost has now slain a holy man. No one is safe!”

And the unrest had worsened: “Eight samurai killed in drunken duels. Twenty peasants wounded in gang brawl!”

Customers snatched the broadsheets; money changed hands. Eager listeners clustered around a storyteller who acted out the killings in melodramatic speech and gestures. Mystics moaned and wailed over lit candles and incense, trying to invoke the spirits of the victims, or the protection of the gods, while onlookers tossed coins in encouragement.

“O Inari, great goddess, please keep us safe from evil!” one ragged old woman keened. Watching her, Sano thought of Aoi, and a spark of anger kindled within him. Not only had her last prophecy proved false, but her description of the killer fit none of the suspects. He was beginning to harbor suspicions about her, that he must eventually allay, or confirm. With all the spies in Edo, and more than one person who wanted his investigation to fail, had he been wrong to trust a stranger-even one recommended by the shogun? Now Sano remembered Noguchi telling him about an official forced to commit suicide because his mother’s spirit had compelled him to attack Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Had Aoi, with her rituals, played a part in the man’s demise? But for now, more pressing