"I see." Hiyoshi nodded with a grown-up look. He showed neither admiration nor disapproval. "So we've been sent here to spread rumors and commit arson."

"Correct."

"So in the end, we're just agitators, aren't we? We're here to stir up the people."

“Well, yes, you could put it that way."

“Isn't being an agitator the work of the lowest outcasts?"

"There's nothing we can do about it. We Hachisuka have been dependent on Lord Dosan for many years now." Hikoju saw things very simply. Hiyoshi looked at him. A ronin was always a ronin, but he had trouble getting used to the idea. Although he got his rice from the table of a ronin, he considered his own life to be precious, and he did not intend to throw it away heedlessly.

“Why did Master Shichinai come?"

“He's here to direct operations. With thirty or forty men entering the area separately, you need someone to coordinate and supervise them."

“I see.

“So         now you know what it's all about."

“Uh-huh. But there's one more thing I don't understand. What about me?"

“Hm. You?"

“What do you suppose I'll have to do? I've had no orders from Master Shichinai so far.

“Perhaps because you're small and agile, you'll be given the job of setting the fires on the night when there's a wind."

“I see. An arsonist."

“Since we've come to this town on secret orders, we can't afford to be careless. When we pose as bow menders and needle sellers we have to be careful and watch what we say."

“If they learn about our plan, will they start looking for us right away?"

“Of course. If Yoshitatsu's samurai get even a hint of our plans, there'll be a massacre.  If we’re  caught, it'll be horrible, whether it's just you or all of us." At first, Hikoju had thought  it too bad that Hiyoshi knew nothing; now he seemed suddenly uneasy about the possibility that the secret might leak from Monkey's mouth. Hiyoshi read this in his face.  “Don’t worry. I've gotten used to this sort of thing in my travels."

“You won't let anything slip?" Hikoju asked tensely. "This is enemy territory, you know."

“Well, we should avoid looking suspicious." His back had gotten stiff, and he slapped it two or three times as he stood up. "Monkey, where are you staying?"

“In the alley just behind the inn where Master Shichinai has a room."

“Is that so? Well, I'll drop by there one of these nights. Be especially careful around the other lodgers." Shouldering his bows, Nitta Hikoju headed off in the direction of the town.

Sitting in the shrine grounds, Hiyoshi gazed at the faraway white walls of the castle above the ginkgo trees. Now that he knew more about the conflict within the Saito family and the evil it had bred, neither the ironlike walls nor the commanding position of the escarpment seemed to have any power at all in his eyes. Who will be the next lord of the castle? he wondered. Dosan won't come to a happy end, either, that's for sure. What kind of strength can there be in a land where master and retainers are enemies? How can the people have confidence when the lords of the province, father and son, distrust and plot against each other?

Mino was a fertile area backed by mountains, at a major crossroads between the capital and the provinces. It was blessed with natural resources, agriculture and industry thrived, the water was clean, and the women beautiful. But it was rotten! He did not have time to think about the worm that was wriggling at its rotten core. His mind jumped to the question of who would be the next lord of Mino.

What troubled Hiyoshi most was the part being played by Hachisuka Koroku, the man from whom he received his meals. Ronin did not have a good reputation, but from serving Koroku, he knew he was an upright man; he had lineage, albeit distant, and one could say his character was superior. Hiyoshi had felt there was nothing to be ashamed of in bowing to this man daily and obeying his orders, but now he had second thoughts.

Dosan had long aided the Hachisuka financially, and their friendship was a strong one. It was unthinkable that Koroku would not know of Dosan's character, or that he could be unaware of his treachery and atrocities. Nevertheless, he was an agitator in the struggle between father and son. No matter how many times he went over the matter in his mind, Hiyoshi could not agree to take part in this. There were thousands of blind men in this world. Could Koroku be one of the blindest? As his feelings of disgust grew stronger, all he wanted to do was run away.

Toward the end of the tenth month, Hiyoshi left the lodging house to go out and peddle his wares. On a corner of one of the back streets, he ran into Hikoju, whose nose was bright red from the dry wind. The bow mender drew up to him and pressed a letter into his hand. "After you read this, chew it up and spit it into the river," he warned. Then, pretending not to know him, Hikoju turned right, while Hiyoshi walked off in the opposite direction. Hiyoshi knew it was a letter from Shichinai. His anxiety hadn't left him, and his heart began to pound.

I've got to get away from these people, he realized. He had been over the problem any number of times, but running away was, in the long run, more dangerous than staying put. He was alone in the boardinghouse, but he took it for granted that his comings and goings and all his actions were continually watched. Probably the spies themselves were being observed. They were all tied to one another like links in a chain. It looks like they're really going ahead with it, he concluded, his mood darkening. Perhaps his reluctance came from timidity, but he could not convince himself he should become a brutal agitator who would confuse people, stir up trouble, and turn the town into an inferno.

He had lost all respect for Koroku. He did not want to serve Dosan, nor did he want anything to do with Yoshitatsu. If he was going to be anyone's ally, he would be the townspeople's. His sympathies lay very much with them, and especially with the parents and their children. They were always the main victims of war. He was too anxious to read the letter immediately.

As he walked along, giving his usual cry, "Needles! Needles from the capital!" he purposely wound his way toward a side street in a residential area where he would not be seen. There he stopped by a small river.

"Oh, damn, I can't get through here!" he said in a deliberately loud voice. He looked around. Luck was with him. No one was in sight. But just to be sure, he faced the small river and while relieving himself, looked around, checking out the area. Then he quietly took out the letter from the folds of his clothing and read:

Tonight, at the Hour of the Dog, if the wind is from the south or west, come to the woods behind the Jozaiji Temple. If the wind is from the north or stops altogether, stay away.

He finished reading, tore the letter into small pieces, and rolled them into a small ball, which he then chewed into a wad.

Needle seller!"

Startled, he had no time to spit the thing into the river. He palmed the paper wad in his clenched fist.

“Who is it?"

“Over here. We'd like to buy some needles."

There was nobody in sight, and Hiyoshi couldn't tell where the voice came from.

“Needle seller, over here!"

On the other side of the road was an embankment and, atop it, double mud walls. A small wicker gate in the wall opened and a young servant stuck his head out. Hiyoshi answered hesitantly. Any samurai residence in this neighborhood must be that of a retainer of the Saito clan. But of which side? There would be nothing to worry about if this one belonged to a retainer of Dosan, but if it belonged to Yoshitatsu's faction, things could nasty.

“There's a person here who'd like some needles."

Hiyoshi's uneasiness intensified, but he had no choice. "Thank you," he said distractedly.  Following the servant, he went in through the wicker gate and walked around an ar­tificial hill in what seemed to be a rear garden. The mansion probably belonged to an important retainer. The main house was separated from a number of annexes. Slowing down, Hiyoshi took in the grandeur of the buildings and the neatness of the rocks and and streams. Who could want to buy needles from him in a place like this? The servant’s words suggested that it was a member of the owner's family, but that did not make sense. In a mansion this imposing, the lady of the house or her daughter wouldn't be buying needles for herself. And, in any case, there would be no reason at all to call in a peddler who hawked his wares in the street.