Shōgun

“Izu is no longer yours to give. You are my vassal, neh? Izu is one of my provinces, to give as I wish, neh?”

Yabu shrugged. “I will it to him, even though . . .” He laughed. “It’s a lifetime favor. Neh?”

“To ask is fair. Your request is refused. And, Yabu-san, all your final orders are subject to my approval. Buntaro-san, you will be the formal witness. Now, Yabu-san, whom do you want as your second?”

“Kasigi Omi-san.”

Toranaga glanced at Omi. Omi bowed, his face colorless. “It will be my honor,” he said.

“Good. Then everything’s arranged.”

Hiro-matsu said, “And the attack down the Tokaidō?”

“We’re safer behind our mountains.” Toranaga breezily returned their salutes, mounted his horse, and trotted off. Sudara nodded politely and followed. Once Toranaga and Sudara were out of range, Buntaro and Hiro-matsu relaxed but Omi did not, and no one took his eyes off Yabu’s sword arm.

Buntaro said, “Where do you want to do it, Yabu-sama?”

“Here, there, down by the shore, or on a dung heap—it’s all the same to me. I don’t need ceremonial robes. But, Omi-san, you will not strike till I’ve made the two cuts.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“With your permission, Yabu-san, I will also be a witness,” Hiro-matsu said.

“Are your piles up to it?”

The general bristled and said to Buntaro, “Please send for me when he’s ready.”

Yabu spat. “I’m already ready. Are you?” Hiro-matsu turned on his heel.

Yabu thought for a moment, then took his scabbarded Yoshitomo sword out of his sash. “Buntaro-san, perhaps you’d do me a favor. Give this to the Anjin-san.” He offered him the sword, then frowned. “On second thought, if it’s no trouble, will you please send for him, then I can give it to him myself?”

“Certainly.”

“And please fetch that stinking priest as well so I can talk directly with the Anjin-san.”

“Good. What arrangements do you want made?”

“Just some paper and ink and a brush for my will and death poem, and two tatamis—there’s no reason to hurt my knees or to kneel in the dirt like a stinking peasant. Neh?” Yabu added with bravado.

Buntaro walked over to the other samurai, who were shifting from one foot to the other with suppressed excitement. Carelessly Yabu sat cross-legged and picked his teeth with a grass stalk. Omi squatted nearby, warily out of sword range.

“Eeeeee,” Yabu said. “I was so near success!” Then he stretched out his legs and hammered them against the earth in a sudden flurry of rage. “Eeeeee, so near! Eh, karma, neh? Karma!” Then he laughed uproariously and hawked and spat, proud that he still had saliva in his mouth. “That on all gods living or dead or yet to be born! But, Omi-san, I die happy. Jikkyu’s dead and when I cross the Last River and see him waiting there, gnashing his teeth, I’ll be able to spit in his eye forever.”

Omi said, meaning it, though watching him like a hawk, “You have done Lord Toranaga a great service, Sire. The coastal route’s open now. You’re right, Sire, and Iron Fist’s wrong and Sudara’s wrong. We should attack at once—the guns will get us through.”

“That old manure heap! Fool!” Yabu laughed again. “Did you see him go purple when I mentioned his piles? Ha! I thought they were going to burst on him then and there. Samurai? I’m more samurai than he is! I’ll show him! You will not strike until I give the order.”

“May I thank you humbly for giving me that honor, and also for making me your heir? I formally swear the Kasigi honor is safe in my hands.”

“If I didn’t think so I wouldn’t have suggested it.” Yabu lowered his voice. “You were right to betray me to Toranaga. I’d have done the same if I’d been you, though it’s all lies. It’s Toranaga’s excuse. He’s always been jealous of my battle prowess, and my understanding the guns and the value of the ship. It’s all my idea.”

“Yes, Sire, I remember.”

“You’ll save the family. You’re as cunning as a scabby old rat. You’ll get back Izu and more—that’s all that’s important now and you’ll hold it for your sons. You understand the guns. And Toranaga. Neh?”

“I swear I will try, Sire.”

Yabu’s eyes dropped to Omi’s sword hand, noting his alertly defensive kneeling posture. “You think I’ll attack you?”

“So sorry, of course not, Sire.”

“I’m glad you’re on guard. My father was like you. Yes, you’re a lot like him.” Without making a sudden movement he put both of his swords on the ground, just out of reach. “There! Now I’m defenseless. A few moments ago I wanted your head—but not now. Now you’ve no need to fear me.”

“There’s always a need to fear you, Sire.”

Yabu chortled softly and sucked another grass stalk. Then he threw it away. “Listen, Omi-san, these are my last orders as Lord of the Kasigis. You will take my son into your household and use him if he’s worth using. Next: Find good husbands for my wife and consort, and thank them deeply for serving me so well. About your father, Mizuno: He’s ordered to commit seppuku at once.”

“May I request that he be given the alternative of shaving his head and becoming a priest?”