Still, Momozono could tell from Sano’s questions that even if he didn’t know the truth, he suspected plenty. “D-divine protection won’t shield you from the Tokugawa.”

“All we have to do is stick to our story,” Tomohito said, “and everything will be fine. We were playing darts together when Left Minister Konoe died. The other night I was praying in the worship hall. You were with me.”

“B-but Sōsakan Sano thinks we’re l-lying.”

“Who cares what he thinks, when he doesn’t have proof?” The emperor laughed. "And he’ll never get any, because we were together those nights.” He fixed a meaningful stare on Momozono. “Weren’t we?”

Momozono had no choice but to nod, agreeing to maintain their precarious claim of innocence. Yet he couldn’t give up without one last attempt to sway his cousin. “Th-this thing that you’re d-doing…” He could hardly bear to think of it, let alone call it by name. “You can’t p-possibly succeed. If you go through with it, you’ll d-destroy yourself and the whole Imperial Court!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tomohito huffed. “Of course I’ll succeed. It’s my destiny to rule Japan. And someday…” He lay back in the tub, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Someday soon, I’ll be able to do whatever I want.”

24

At Nijō Manor, Reiko awakened alone in bed. The room was bright with sunlight. The nightmares of believing Sano dead and her adventures while seeking his killer seemed far away, but they’d exhausted her, and she’d slept past noon. As she sat up, a maid entered the room, carrying her breakfast tray.

“Where is my husband?” Reiko asked.

“He and his men have already gone out,” said the maid.

“What about my guards and palanquin bearers?”

“They went, too.”

Reiko felt annoyed at Sano for leaving her with no means of transport. How odd that yesterday she would have given anything, endured any hardships, just to have him back, but now the minor irritations of their life together could fret her once again! Drinking tea and eating pickled vegetables on rice, she pondered how to spend the day. She feared that she’d compromised the investigation by involving Lady Jokyōden, and wished to make up for whatever harm she’d done, but there seemed little she could do.

A glint of light caught her eye. On the table lay one of the coins that Sano had found among Left Minister Konoe’s possessions. Reiko picked up the coin and studied the fern design thoughtfully. Detectives Marume and Fukida hadn’t yet managed to discover the coins’ significance, but maybe she would have better luck.

Reiko washed, dressed, and left the inn, taking two maids for company. They walked up and down the hot, crowded streets, visiting shops and tea-houses, food stalls and marketplaces. Everyone Reiko questioned denied having seen such a coin before. Merchants who welcomed her into their establishments turned grim and reticent when shown the coin; clerks, customers, and roving peddlers seemed afraid to look at it. After hours of futile inquiries, Reiko was baffled and frustrated.

“Everyone’s lying,” she said to her maids. “There’s something strange going on.”

They stopped at a restaurant that sold tea and cold noodles. A teenaged servant girl with a plain, friendly face brought their food. While they ate, Reiko noticed her watching them. When she knelt to refill Reiko’s tea bowl, she whispered, “May I please speak to you?”

Curious, Reiko nodded.

The girl cast a furtive look toward the kitchen, where an elderly couple tended pots boiling on the stove. “I heard that you were asking about coins with a fern leaf on them,” she said, still whispering. “Please excuse me if I seem rude, but you must be a newcomer, so I have to warn you that no one here talks of such things, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why not?” Reiko asked.

“Because it’s dangerous.” The girl leaned closer and said, “The fern leaf is the crest of the Dazai clan. They’re very bad men-thieves, hoodlums, murderers. They come to businesses like this and demand money, and they beat up shopkeepers who won’t pay. They kidnap girls to work in their unlicensed brothels. They run gambling dens, and if you don’t pay your debts, they torture you.

“They’re very powerful, very much feared. It’s no use reporting them to the police, because they bribe the police to leave them alone. They kill anyone who makes trouble for them. Even to speak of the Dazai is bad luck.”

“Mayumi-chan!” called the man in the kitchen. “Stop bothering the customers. Get back to work!”

“Excuse me, I must go.” The girl bowed. Before hurrying away, she whispered, “Please heed my warning, for your own good.”

Reiko sat mulling over what she’d just heard. Why did the Dazai clan mint coins bearing their crest? How had Left Minister Konoe come to possess the coins? Perhaps he’d been spying on the Dazai. Reiko recalled the thugs she’d seen at Lord Ibe’s house. Were they members of the Dazai and a link between Konoe’s murder and the plot against the Tokugawa? Reiko shared Sano’s belief that the coins were a critical element in the mystery, but how would she discover their meaning if everyone in Miyako refused to talk about them or the Dazai?

The five-hundred-year-old temple of Sanjūsangendō was located in Miyako’s southern sector, near the east bank of the Kamo River. Worshippers and priests thronged the precinct around its halls, shrines, and pagoda. Gongs clanged; children romped. Sano stood alone inside the vermilion east gate, watching the activity while he questioned the wisdom of coming.

He needed information that Left Minister Konoe had probably concealed from the Imperial Court but might have confided to someone outside the palace, however little she’d welcomed his confidences. Hence, Sano had gone to Kodai Temple in search of Kozeri, but his rising agitation forced him to recognize that he wanted more than just answers from her. He told himself that his pursuit of the truth required him to withstand his attraction to Kozeri.

Upon reaching the convent, he learned that she’d gone out begging for alms at Sanjūsangendō. Her absence was a good excuse to avoid her, yet he needed evidence to connect the rebel conspiracy with the murder case. Now he walked through the precinct to the main hall. This was brightly painted, with red pillars, white walls, green window gratings, blue and yellow trim. Inside stretched a room like a cavernous tunnel, broken only by huge wooden pillars. Sano followed worshippers whose murmurs echoed to a high, beamed ceiling, alongside an altar that extended the length of the room. Candles and incense sticks burned on stands. Behind these loomed statues of wind and thunder gods. Above them, rising in eleven tiers like a golden army, stood the famous thousand and one statues of the goddess Kannon.

The flickering candlelight animated the figures and their serene faces crowned by spiked haloes. Their many hands, which held flowers, knives, skulls, and prayer wheels, seemed to flex and gesture. When Sano emerged into the searing sunlight of the courtyard, he saw three nuns in hemp robes and wicker hats, carrying wooden begging bowls. Kozeri stood in the middle. Surprise and pleasure lit her lovely eyes.

“Good afternoon, Sōsakan-sama,” she said.

Her presence kindled a dark excitement in Sano. She was a witness with information he wanted, but he mustn’t let her inspire dangerous thoughts.

With a shy smile, Kozeri said, “What brings you to Sanjūsangendō?”

“I was looking for you.” Seeing a blush color Kozeri’s cheeks, Sano understood that she’d craved another meeting as much as he; she welcomed his words as a sign of his interest in her. Flattered, Sano condemned himself as a vain, selfish boor. That he should forsake his wife to enjoy a nun’s affections! “Actually, I have more questions to ask you,” he said, trying to sound businesslike. “About Left Minister Konoe.”