21

The first typhoon of late summer swept up the coast from the southwest, but though it brought heavy rain, its main force had abated by the time it reached Hagi; the eastern parts of the Middle Country were hardly touched, and Shigeru did not hasten his return home. It was true that he missed Akane from time to time, but he had no desire to go back to the intrigue in the castle or to the uncomfortable situation with his wife. The life of a warrior on the borders had a simplicity about it that was straightforward and refreshing. He was treated by everyone with undivided respect and gratitude, which he found flattering and which gave him ever-increasing confidence in himself and in his role as the leader of the clan. No one argued with him; everyone deferred to his opinions.

It was almost as if they were still boys, playing at stone fights, but with real soldiers and real lives at their command now. They kept a constant watch on the entire border from coast to coast, sleeping outside for nights on end beneath the soft summer sky with its huge blurred stars. Every couple of weeks or so they returned to Chigawa, where they took advantage of the hot springs and the plentiful food of late summer.

On one of these occasions, late in the eighth month, on an early evening just before sunset, Takeshi and Kahei came into the lodging house, hair still wet from the bath, laughing loudly. They also had become more relaxed during the last few weeks, released from the stern discipline of study and training that had filled their lives in Hagi. Both were on the cusp of manhood, their bodies filling out, limbs lengthening, voices breaking. In a year or two, Shigeru thought, listening to them now, they should be sent to Terayama to learn as he had done the self-discipline that would bind together all they had been taught so far. He had watched his brother closely in the past weeks, trying to check Takeshi’s recklessness and impetuosity, noting how the men adored and encouraged him, admiring his fearlessness. In Shigeru’s opinion, Kahei had a more dependable character: his courage was not tinged with rashness; he was willing to seek advice and follow it. Yet Takeshi shone with something additional-the inborn Otori ability to inspire devotion. Shigeru wondered again how best to give his brother the responsibilities he needed. Takeshi showed no interest in crops and agriculture, the running of estates, or the development of industry; his passion was all for the art of war. If his rashness could be tempered, he might make a great general; at the moment, he was more interested in individual heroic exploits than in the careful planning of strategy and tactics. He was even less interested in the diplomatic negotiations that ensured peace. He and Kiyoshige frequently deplored the absence of war and longed for the opportunity to teach the Tohan a lesson like the battle at the shrine, which Kiyoshige described in bloodthirsty detail on more than one occasion.

Kiyoshige liked Takeshi, and their shared adventures while Shigeru had been at Terayama had formed a strong bond between them. Shigeru noticed how Kiyoshige encouraged the younger boy, tacitly approving his rashness because it matched his own. Shigeru deliberately kept them apart while they rode out on patrols, sending Kiyoshige with Irie and keeping Takeshi with him, but when they met in Chigawa, it amused Kiyoshige to take Takeshi around with him.

“There was a man outside with a message for you,” Takeshi said. “Just about the ugliest man I’ve ever set eyes on.”

“He’s been roasted like a chestnut,” Kahei added.

“We sent him packing.” Takeshi laughed. “What impudence, expecting you to speak to him.”

“Roasted?” Shigeru questioned.

“His face was puckered and red, as if he’d been burned.”

“Hideous,”Takeshi muttered. “We should have put him out of his misery. What does a man like that have to live for?”

Shigeru had thought more than once about the man he had rescued the previous year, but the Hidden seemed to have vanished underground again, true to their name. There had been no more reports of attacks over the border, and though occasionally what he had learned about their strange beliefs floated into his mind, he dismissed it as yet another superstition. He had enough of these from his father. Now he remembered Nesutoro and the sister who had considered herself his equal because of the teachings of her god, and he wondered what the man wanted and if it was too late to speak to him.

“Kiyoshige, go and see if this man is still there. You must remember him. Nesutoro, the one we rescued last year.”

Kiyoshige returned to say the man had disappeared. The innkeeper did not know how to find him, and there was no sign of him in the streets around.

“You should have treated him more gently,” Shigeru told his brother. “He is a brave man who has suffered a great deal.”

“He’s just some peasant who got drunk and fell in the fire!”

“No, he was tortured by the Tohan,” Shigeru replied. “He is one of the reasons we fought them last year.”

“One of the strange sect? Why does everyone hate them so much?”

“Perhaps because they seem to be different.”

“They believe everyone is born equal-in the eyes of Heaven,” Kiyoshige said. “And they claim their god will judge everyone after death. They don’t know their place, and they make everyone else feel guilty.”

“They could be very destabilizing within society,” Irie added.

“And my elder brother protects them,” Takeshi said. “Why?”

“The Tohan had come into Otori territory,” Shigeru replied. It was the reason he had always given; yet he knew, if he were truthful to himself, that it was not the only one. The scene at the shrine would never be erased from his mind-the cruelty, the courage, the suffering, all part of the terrible fabric of human life. The beliefs of the Hidden seemed outlandish and unlikely, but then so did his father’s superstitions. Could anyone fathom the truth of life? Could anyone read the secret hearts of men? Just as cutting back a shrub made it grow more vigorously, so suppressing strange beliefs gave them more life. Better to allow people to believe what they wanted.

“I had never seen children tortured in that way,” he added. “I find such cruelty offensive.”

There was a kind of pride there too: the Tohan might act in such an inhuman way, but the Otori would not. And a defiance: if the Tohan persecuted the Hidden, the Otori would protect them.

“Would you have spoken to him?” Takeshi looked a little discomfited. “I’m sorry I turned him away.”

“If it is important, he will probably return,” Shigeru said.

“I don’t think so. Not after the way we dealt with him. I should have been more gentle with him.”

“We can reach him through his brother-in-law,” Irie said. “The headman from the village.”

Shigeru nodded. “Next time we ride that way, we will make a point of speaking to him.”

Shigeru put the matter out of his mind, but the next morning Kiyoshige was called to the front of the inn and returned to say that the man’s sister was waiting in the street.

“I’ll send her away,” he suggested. “You cannot be expected to receive every peasant who thinks they have some claim on you.”

“Did she say what she wants?”

“Just that she comes on behalf of her brother, Nesutoro.”

Shigeru sat silent for a few moments. Kiyoshige was right: he should not make himself freely available to anyone and everyone. If he showed favoritism or particularity to one group, it would only cause envy and discontent among others. But the woman had intrigued him, and there had been some connection between him and the man-some recognition on both sides of their shared humanity-and shared qualities, too, of courage and patience.

“Let her come in. I will talk to her.”