Visibly angry himself now, and stung by her rebuke, Sano said, “I agree that was the worst mistake in my life, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “What is it about this place? Good ideas always turn out wrong here.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wish I’d never found that despicable diary or confronted Lord Matsumae with it.”

His self-reproach pained Reiko, but she took a mean pleasure in hurting him. “You’re always so concerned about justice. What about justice for your son? What about your samurai duty to avenge him? If you cared, you’d find a way.”

“Shut up!” Sano exclaimed. Making an effort to calm himself, he put his hands on her shoulders and deliberately lowered his voice: “I know how upset you are, but don’t take it out on me.”

Reiko lost her own self-control. “Let me go!” She fought Sano, hitting him, savage with grief and fury. Part of her dimly realized that this was how Lord Matsumae must have felt when Tekare had died. Now she was going mad, too.

“Stop that,” Sano ordered, as he struggled to restrain her, “before you hurt yourself. Don’t let this turn us against each other.”

But Reiko fought harder, sobbing wildly. The precious, beloved fruit of their union was gone, and so was their love for each other. Their marriage had died with their son.

“We have to stick together,” Sano persisted. “We have to live through this.”

“Why?” Reiko cried. She welcomed death, which would end the suffering.

“Because we have another child at home.” Sano’s voice was intense with urgency. “In case you’ve forgotten Akiko.”

Reiko almost had. Masahiro’s death had left her few thoughts to spare for Akiko. But now the mention of her daughter silenced Reiko like a stab to the heart. Akiko didn’t compensate her for the loss of her firstborn, but Reiko suddenly longed for the baby she’d left behind in Edo. She realized with a shock that the situation was even worse than she’d imagined.

Gazing up at Sano in horror, she whispered, “We’re never getting out of here, are we? We’ll never see Akiko again.”

“Don’t say that,” Sano said; equally horrified and afraid that her prediction could make itself come true.

She could see in his eyes that he didn’t have much faith in their ever returning home, either. “Gizaemon isn’t going to honor Lord Matsumae’s promise to set us free if you find the killer. He won’t let us go back to Edo and tell tales about what’s happened here. As far as he’s concerned, we’re better off dead. It’s just a matter of time before he figures that out.”

Sano was silent. A deep frown of despair carved his brow. Reiko sat with him amid the wreckage of their life, their marriage, their family. Outside, war drums boomed. Cheers rose from soldiers drunk on wine, celebrating today’s massacre, rallying for battle. The sounds reminded Reiko that she and Sano and their comrades weren’t the only ones doomed. The natives were about to lose their lives, their society, their existence as a people. There seemed nothing she or Sano could do to save them, either.

Then Sano spoke in a voice hushed with enlightenment: “If all is lost, we have nothing left to lose.” His face wore an expression Reiko had never seen before. It was ravaged yet strong, bleakly resigned to defeat yet luminous with purpose. “If our hours are numbered, then let’s make the most of them.”

Reiko imagined that this was how a samurai looked when embarking on a mission bound to end in his death. She sensed a fervor in Sano, a contagious energy. Her spirits rose in spite of herself. “By doing what?”

“What you said we should. Avenging our son’s death.”

Reiko felt a spark of the ardor she’d once felt toward her husband. Even though they were fated to die, there was something left between them. Suddenly breathless with anticipation, she said, “How?”

“I don’t know yet.” Sano’s tone was without fear or lack of confidence. “But I swear on my ancestors’ honor that I’ll right all the wrongs that have been done here in Ezogashima. I’ll think of a way before this night is over.”

27

After an eternal night, the sun thrust up from behind the hills above Fukuyama City, round and glowing red in the pale sky, crossed by wisps of violet cloud, like a giant battle standard. Outside the castle, the heads of the massacred natives stood frozen on their pikes. Inside, a bonfire in the main courtyard had burned down to smoking ashes. The barracks were filled with soldiers sleeping off last night’s revelry. All was quiet as Ezogashima poised on the brink of war.

Inside the guest quarters, Hirata crept through the silent darkness that immersed the building. His trained senses compensated for his lack of eyesight. The faint sound of his own breathing echoed off the walls, forming an auditory picture of the empty corridor. He moved soundlessly down it. Pausing outside the room where the guards were, he felt their heartbeats, a slow, steady pulsation that meant they’d fallen asleep on their watch. They hadn’t overheard the whispered conversation that had gone on between Sano, Hirata, Reiko, and the detectives all night. They were sitting ducks.

Hirata eased their door open. Smoky heat wafted from charcoal braziers. He felt rather than saw the four human figures curled motionless on the floor. Hirata tiptoed over to each man, pressed a finger against his neck, and delivered a burst of energy. The sleeping men fell into deeper slumber. Their pulses slowed to the minimum required to pump blood through their bodies. They would stay unconscious for several hours. Hirata took their swords, a long and a short from each man, then hurried back to the room where his comrades waited.

“First mission accomplished,” Hirata said, and passed out the weapons.

Sano, Marume, and Fukida drew the long swords from the scabbards and examined the blades by the light of the oil lamp. “Good enough,” Marume said.

“Thieves can’t be choosers,” Fukida said.

Reiko held out her palms to Hirata. He laid a dagger across them. Her face was solemn and fierce. A chill ran through him. He’d seen that look before, on samurai who’d come to Edo Castle to register vendettas against their foes. But he’d never before seen it on a woman.

The detectives headed out of the room; the Rat reluctantly followed. Hirata, Sano, and Reiko lingered. Sano bowed to Hirata and said, “A million thanks for your faithful service.”

The words had a gravity that said he meant his thanks not just for now, but for all the years they’d been master and retainer. He had spoken them because he might not have a chance later.

“It was nothing,” Hirata insisted with a vehemence that said they wouldn’t fail in their mission, wouldn’t die and never talk again. A lump formed in his throat. Unable to look at Sano or Reiko, he bowed and walked out to meet the destiny he’d come seeking in Ezogashima.

Reiko and Sano were alone for what might have been the last time. Sano said, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I must,” Reiko said.

She saw him studying her for signs of fear, but she felt none. Her spirit had moved beyond fear and grief to a place of still, perfect calmness. Her body was a tool for revenge, her sense of purpose untouched by emotions.

“Don’t go alone,” Sano said with pleading urgency.

“It’s what we decided.” Rather, Reiko had decided, against his strenuous objections. Her voice was even, untroubled. She knew she would succeed in the mission she’d charted for herself. She didn’t care what happened to her as a result.

“Come with me,” Sano said. “We’ve always worked well together.” His words alluded to the crimes they’d solved in the past, the dangers they’d faced and surmounted, the whole history of their unconventional marriage.

“We’ve also worked well separately.”