"This is what you've always said."

"I have told you before that you must think before you act, and protect the weak. My nephew's character has not improved. He has broken into the house of a merchant and done the work of a thief in the night." Chewing his lip, Koroku realized that the matter had to be settled. "Oinosuke, Shinshichi. The two of you will go to Mikuriya, tonight. Bring Tenzo here but don't tell him the reason. He has a number of armed men with him. He's not a man, as they say, to let himself be captured with a single length of rope."

The following dawn came amid the chirping of birds in the forested hills. One house among the fortifications caught the morning sun early.

"Matsu, Matsu!"

Matsunami, Koroku's wife, peeked into the bedroom. Koroku was awake, lying on his side under the mosquito netting.

"Have the men I sent to Mikuriya last night returned yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Hm," Koroku grunted, a concerned look on his face. Although his nephew was a villain who did nothing but evil, he had a sharp mind. If this turned ugly, would he sense it and try to escape? They're rather late, he thought again.

His wife untied the mosquito netting. Their son, Kameichi, who was playing at the edge of the net, was not quite two years old.

"Hey! Come here." Koroku embraced the child and held him at arm's length. As plump as the children in Chinese paintings, the boy felt heavy, even in his father's arms.

"What's the matter? Your eyelids are red and swollen." Koroku licked at Kameichi's eyes. The boy, turning restive, pulled and scratched at his father's face.

"He must have been eaten up by the mosquitoes," his mother replied.

"If it's just mosquitoes, it's nothing to worry about."

"He frets so, even when he's asleep. He keeps slipping out from under the net."

"Don't let him get cold when he's asleep."

"Of course I won't."

"And be careful of smallpox."

"Don't even talk about it."

"He's our first child. You might say he's the prize of our first campaign."

Koroku was young and sturdy. He shook off the pleasure of the moment and strode out of the room, like a man who had some great purpose to achieve. He was not one to sit indoors and peacefully sip his morning tea. When he had changed his clothes and washed his face, he went into the garden, walking with great strides toward the sound of hammering.

Along one side of the narrow path were two small smithies that had been built in a area where huge trees had been fairly recently cut down. This was the middle of a forest where no ax, until now, had touched a tree since the days of Koroku's forefathers.

The gunsmith, Kuniyoshi, whom Koroku had secretly summoned from the city of Sakai, was at work with his apprentices.

"How's it going?" he asked. Kuniyoshi and his men prostrated themselves on the dirt floor. "No luck yet, eh? Are you still unable to copy the firearm you're using as a model?”

"We've tried this and we've tried that. We've gone without sleep and food, but…"

Koroku nodded. Just then a low-ranking retainer came up to him and said, "My lord the two men you sent to Mikuriya have just come back."

"Have they, now?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Did they bring Tenzo back with them?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good!" Koroku nodded approvingly. "Have him wait."

"Inside?"

"Yes. I'll be there soon."

Koroku was an able strategist—the clan depended on him for it—but there was another side to his character: a tendency to be softhearted. He could be stern, but he could be moved by tears, especially where his own flesh and blood were concerned. He had made up his mind, though: he must do away with his nephew this morning. But he seemed to hesitate, and stayed for quite some time watching Kuniyoshi work.

"It's only natural," he said. "After all, firearms just arrived here seven or eight years go. Since then, samurai clans in all the provinces have vied with each other to produce guns or buy them from the ships of the European barbarians. Here in Owari we have a tactical advantage. There must be many country samurai in the north and east who have never even seen firearms. You haven't made one before, either, so take your time and work carefully by trial and error. If you can make one, you can make a hundred, and we'll have them on hand for later."

"My lord!" The retainer came back and knelt on the dew-covered ground. "They're waiting for you."

Koroku turned to him. "I'll be there soon. They can wait a bit longer."

While Koroku was determined to make the costly sacrifice of punishing his nephew or justice' sake, he was torn by a conflict between his sense of what was right and his own feelings. As he was about to leave, he spoke to Kuniyoshi again, "Within the year you'll be able to make ten or twenty serviceable firearms, won't you?"

"Yes," said the smith, who, conscious of his responsibility, had a serious expression on his sooty face. "If I can make one that I feel is right, I can make forty or even a hundred."

"It's the first one that's difficult, eh?"

"You spend so much money on me."

"Don't worry about it."

"Thank you, my lord."

"I don't suppose the fighting will let up next year, the year after that, or in the years following…. When the grasses on this earth all wither, and the buds begin to sprout again—well, do the best you can to finish it quickly."

"I'll put everything I have into it."

"Remember, it's to be done in secret."

"Yes, my lord."

"The sound of the hammer is a little too loud. Can you work so it won't be heard outside the moat?"

"I'll be careful about that, too."

On his way out of the smithy, Koroku saw a gun propped next to the bellows. "And that?" he asked, pointing to it. "Is it the model, or one that you've made?"

"It's brand-new."

"Well, let me see it."

"I'm afraid it's not quite ready for your inspection yet."

"Never mind. I have a good target for it. Will it fire?"

"The ball flies out, but no matter what I do, I can't make the mechanism engage as it does in the original. I'll try harder to make something that will work."

"Testing is also an important job. Let me have it."

Taking it from Kuniyoshi's hands, Koroku rested the barrel of the gun on his crooked elbow and made as if aiming it at a target. Just then, Inada Oinosuke appeared at the door of the smithy.

"Oh, you haven't finished yet."

Koroku turned toward Oinosuke with the butt of the gun pressed against his ribs.

"Well?"

"I think you should come quickly. We were able to talk Tenzo into coming along with us, but he seems to think it strange and acts nervous. If things go wrong, he may tun into the tiger breaking out of his cage, as the proverb goes."

"Very well, I'm coming."

Handing the gun to Oinosuke, Koroku walked with long strides down the path through the forest.

Watanabe Tenzo sat just outside the study wondering what was going on. What kind of emergency had caused him to be summoned here? Aoyama Shinshichi, Nagai Hannojo, Matsubara Takumi, and Inada Oinosuke—the trusted retainers of the Hachisuka clan—all sat next to him, carefully observing his every movement. Tenzo had begun to feel uneasy as soon as he had arrived. He was thinking of making up some excuse and leaving when he caught sight of Koroku in the garden.

"Ah, Uncle." Tenzo's greeting was accompanied by a forced smile.

Koroku looked impassively at his nephew. Oinosuke rested the butt of the gun on the ground.

"Tenzo, come out into the garden, won't you?" he said. His appearance was no different from normal. Tenzo was a little reassured.

"They told me to come quickly, said there was some urgent business to take care of.

"That's right."

"What sort of business?"

"Well, come over here."