“Don’t look at me like that!” he ordered. “Keep your distance. Show some respect!”

“A thousand pardons.” Hoshina stepped backward, but his gaze held Yanagisawa’s.

As on the previous night, something passed between them-a strange, piercing current that gave Yanagisawa pleasure and pain in equal measures.

He heard Hoshina’s quick intake of breath at the sensation, and instinctively knew what else he and Hoshina had in common.

While many men had similar experiences in this world that exalted manly love and exploited the weak, Yanagisawa had never imagined that anyone ever suffered as he had. Now he understood that Hoshina also knew the pain, shame, and rage. The same emotions had shaped both their lives.

Hoshina said, “When I found out you were coming to Miyako, I did plan to do what you accused me of doing.” He sounded younger, abashed. “But now…” Dropping his gaze, he shrugged. “If you want me to go, I will.” He started toward the door.

“Wait.” The command slipped involuntarily out of Yanagisawa. Hoshina paused, and Yanagisawa sensed how much he was torn between wanting to flee and wanting to stay. Hoshina stood to gain vast rewards for pleasing the most powerful man in Japan; but if he failed to please, he could lose his life. He’d excelled at the game of sex and exploitation in the past, but the rules had changed; he was uncertain how to act.

The same uncertainty and contrary impulses tormented Yanagisawa, because of what he himself stood to lose. He and Hoshina shared more besides carnal attraction and childhood traumas. They were both users of men, dedicated to self-interest. He’d lied, cheated, schemed, ruined lives, and killed to get to the top of the bakufu. Was Hoshina capable of the same?

But these realities crumbled under the pressure of the undefined yearning. Yanagisawa held out his hand to Hoshina. “Come here,” he said.

Yanagisawa saw his own hope, fear, and desires mirrored in Hoshina’s eyes. Their hands clasped. In the shock of the warm press of skin against skin, a rush of arousal swept through Yanagisawa. None of his impersonal couplings with other partners had prepared him for whatever this was, but instinct guided him. He lifted his free hand and gently touched Hoshina’s cheek. Hoshina cautiously laid his hand on Yanagisawa’s shoulder. They stood frozen in position, their gazes riveted upon each other’s faces, for a short eternity.

Then they were caught up in a brutal embrace, hands caressing smooth skin over hard muscle, bodies thrusting and straining. Their gasps drowned the clang of distant Obon gongs. Yanagisawa smelled the smoke from bonfires; he felt an overwhelming physical rapture. As he and Hoshina sank to the floor together, he had the perilous sense of launching into an adventure that would change both their lives forever.

11

The next morning brought dense clouds that relieved Miyako’s sweltering heat but increased the moisture in the air. Pagoda spires grew hazy where they met the low sky; mist rendered far hills invisible. While the ancient capital awoke to life, a damp wind blew ash and torn paper flowers from last night’s Obon festivities past the gate of Kodai Temple, where Sano had come to see Left Minister Konoe’s former wife.

Founded in ancient times, Kodai Temple had gained prominence after Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s death almost a century ago. His successor, Tokugawa Ieyasu, had granted it to Hideyoshi’s widow, who had become a nun, taking the religious name Kodai-in and retiring to the temple convent. Later, bent on eliminating potential challengers, Ieyasu had besieged the Toyotomi stronghold at Osaka Castle. Kodai-in, who had gone there to join her son, had been annihilated along with the last remnants of the Toyotomi clan. Now the Widow’s Temple memorialized her.

Sano walked along the Reclining Dragon Corridor, an undulating covered bridge with roof tiles shaped like scales. Around him spread ponds, gardens, ceremonial halls, and residences. To the east, Higashi Cemetery ascended a hillside in tiers of gravestones. Sano entered the sanctuary. Carved gold lacquerwork on the walls and altar reflected the flames of thousands of oil lamps. Incense smoked before a golden statue of Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy; shrines held wooden images of Hideyoshi and Kodai-in. Heat shimmered like currents under water. An elderly nun, small and stooped with a shaven head, bowed to Sano as he approached her.

“I am the abbess of Kodai Temple Convent,” she said. “May I assist you?”

After introducing himself, Sano said, “I’m here to see a nun named Kozeri.”

The abbess’s wrinkled face hardened into unfriendly lines. “If you’ve come on behalf of Kozeri’s former husband, you’ve wasted your time. She has nothing to communicate to the left minister, and she sees no one from outside the temple. To visit repeatedly and send letters or envoys is futile. Perhaps if you relay that message to the left minister, he will accept the situation and leave Kozeri alone.”

“I’m not the left minister’s envoy,” Sano explained quickly. “I’m investigating his murder.”

“Murder?” Shock rounded the abbess’s blurry eyes. “I’m sorry; I did not know.” She shook her head. “Here, we shun news from the outside world… Forgive me for mistaking your purpose.”

“I need to speak with Kozeri as part of my inquiry,” Sano said. “It won’t take long.”

The abbess hesitated, then said, “I will fetch Kozeri.”

“Please don’t tell her who I am or why I’m here,” Sano said. “I’ll do that myself.”

“Very well.”

After the abbess left, Sano dropped a coin in the offertory box, lit a candle, and placed it on the altar. He silently prayed for the success of his mission, and for the safety of Reiko, who was at the Imperial Palace now.

“Lady Asagao has been called away, but she told me to have you try on your new costume for the play,” said the lady-in-waiting who greeted Reiko outside the imperial consorts’ residence.

A gust of wind ruffled the trees and wisteria vines in the courtyard where they stood. Thunder shuddered the overcast sky, and raindrops hissed onto the gravel-covered ground. The lady-in-waiting said, “It’s going to storm. Let’s hurry inside.”

She ushered Reiko into the low building. Here, Reiko knew, no men except the emperor were allowed. As she and her escort walked through the corridors, maids lowered the wooden rain doors along the exterior wall. Mullioned paper partitions defined a series of chambers. Through their open doors Reiko saw young women sipping tea and grooming themselves. They smiled at her and bowed. The emperor apparently had many consorts besides Lady Asagao, with many attendants to serve them. Chatter and laughter filled the air.

Lady Asagao had a suite at the center of the residence. Entering this, Reiko saw rain doors and sliding paper panels standing open to a garden landscaped with willows and lawn. Painted landscapes decorated folding screens that divided the suite into three sections, each crammed with furniture and personal articles. In the dressing area, an alcove held built-in cabinets whose drawers and shelves spilled colorful clothing. Lamps burned on a low table littered with combs, brushes, jars, and a mirror. Shoes lay scattered on the floor. The lady-in-waiting pointed to a wooden stand that displayed a lavish emerald silk kimono embroidered with pink lilies.

“This is your costume,” she said to Reiko. “May I help you change?”

“Oh, no, thank you, that’s not necessary,” Reiko said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble,” the lady-in-waiting said with a smile. “I’m honored to serve you.”

“Oh, but I’m sure you’re very busy. And really, I can manage alone.”

The young woman hesitated.

“It’s all right,” Reiko said. “I won’t disturb Her Highness’s things, and I’ll call you if I need help.”