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When he was alone, Shigeru went to the seashore and washed himself all over, plunging into the chilly water, welcoming the numbness it induced, wishing it would numb his emotions as well. Then he set himself to training vigorously, striving to regain his self-mastery, but he kept seeing her image before him, her brilliant eyes, the sheen of sweat on her skin, her slender body shaking, in passion, with tears.
At midday, one of the women from the village brought him some fresh grilled fish from the previous night’s catch. He thanked her and, after he had eaten, took the wooden bowl back to her and helped the men prepare the nets for the evening’s work. They spoke little. He told them he would warn Terada against attacking them when the ship’s captain returned that afternoon. They expressed their gratitude, but he could tell they were not convinced—and indeed, on the high seas and in these remote places, Terada could act as it suited him, according to his own laws.
The ship appeared out of the afternoon haze, tacking against the southwesterly. Shigeru waded out to it and was pulled over the side. The decks were slippery with the blood of fish that had already been gutted and packed in barrels of salt. Huge vats of seawater held the living catch. The smell was strong, stomach-turning, the fishermen tired, dirty, and keen to get home.
“Did you see any apparitions?” Fumio asked eagerly, and Shigeru told him the story of the girl betrothed to Death, and the phantoms at the wedding feast.
“And you saw them in Katte Jinja?” the boy said.
“I certainly did,” Shigeru said in the same earnest tone, aware of Terada’s eyes on him. “I shall go home and write it down. One day perhaps you will read my collection!”
Fumio groaned. “I hate reading!”
His father cuffed him. “You will read Lord Otori’s book and enjoy it!” he said.
THEY SAILED INTO Hagi harbor early the next morning. Shigeru was awake most of the night, watching the stars and the waning moon, seeing the first hint of dawn and then the vigorous sunrise as the orange sphere pushed itself above the eastern mountains and spilled its extravagant light across the surface of the sea. He thanked Terada at the dock and thought he saw again both scorn and disappointment in the older man’s expression.
He ambled back to his house, stopping to talk to several shop-keepers and merchants along the way, discussing the spring planting, examining various goods introduced from the mainland, drinking tea with one, rice wine with another.
When he came to his own gate and walked through it into the garden, greeting the guards cheerfully, he saw his mother seated inside the room that gave on to the eastern veranda. He walked around and wished her good morning.
“Lord Shigeru!” she exclaimed. “Welcome back.” She glanced rapidly at his attire and said, “You have not been out in the city like that?”
“I have been at sea for a few days,” he said. “It was very interesting, Mother. Do you know they catch bream, squid, mackerel, and sardines between Hagi and Oshima?”
“I have no interest in bream or squid,” she replied. “You stink of fish—and your clothes! Have you completely forgotten who you are?”
“I’d better go and bathe then, if I stink,” he said, refusing to be ruffled by her annoyance.
“Indeed, and take some care when you dress. You are to go to the castle. Your uncles wish to speak to you.”
“I shall tell them about the ghosts I saw,” Shigeru replied, smiling blandly. “I’m thinking of compiling a collection of ancient tales of apparitions. What a fine title that would make! Ancient Tales of Apparitions.”
The expression on his mother’s face was not unlike Terada’s: disappointment, scorn. He was perversely annoyed that she should be so easily fooled, that she should think so little of him.
He considered making his uncles wait, sending a message to say he was tired after his journey, but he did not want to antagonize them or give them reasons to curtail his activities. After bathing and having his forehead and beard plucked and shaved by Chiyo, Shigeru dressed carefully in his formal robes but chose the oldest and least ostentatious. Before he left, he placed Jato, its hilt still wrapped in its sharkskin cover, in his sash and tucked the piece of cord that Fumio had given him inside his outer garment, all the while pondering on the best way to make the short journey to the castle. He decided to leave his black stallion Kyu behind. Horses were still scarce, and he did not want to be tricked into having to present his own to either of his uncles. He had settled on walking—it seemed suitably eccentric—but his mother’s shock was so great that he relented and allowed her to send for the palanquin.
The hot water after the sleepless night had brought fatigue closer. His eyeballs itched, and his head felt almost unbearably heavy. The time at Katte Jinja already seemed like a mirage, and his current state like the results of possession. When he arrived at the castle and emerged from the palanquin, he could not help recalling his father’s words five years ago, warning him against infatuation—and Matsuda Shingen’s observation that it was one of the faults of the Otori nature. Now he had succumbed in the same way; he did not know where it would lead him. He only knew it was too late to turn back.
He was greeted by Miyoshi Satoru, Kahei’s father. They spoke for a while about Takeshi, who had been living in the Miyoshi household since the previous summer. Lord Miyoshi spoke favorably of the young man, who served under him in the castle guard. Takeshi had celebrated his coming of age; it seemed he was settling down.
They walked together to the residence, Shigeru noting the new decorations that had cost so much and been so resented in the town. It reminded him of the ever-increasing taxation that affected everyone, even Terada and his fishing fleet. He must speak to his uncles about it; he must stand up for his people, maintain his pretence . . . see her again.
His uncles made him wait; he had expected this and was not angered by it; rather, he was grateful, for it gave him time to sit quietly and control his breathing, regathering his thoughts and strengthening his resolve. Miyoshi sat in silence, too, occasionally looking up as footsteps echoed within or on the outside veranda and glancing at Shigeru, as if he would apologize for the lords’ lack of courtesy.
Eventually the steward of the household appeared and, with many apologies, ushered Shigeru into the main reception room. The man was an elderly retainer who had served Lord Shigemori and whom Shigeru knew well. He thought he saw embarrassment in his demeanor and regretted once more the disappointment and shame he had brought on so many in the clan. He wished he could express to this man and to so many others his perverse gratitude that they served his uncles loyally and would preserve the Otori until Iida was dead and Shigeru head of the clan.
His older uncle, Shoichi, was seated in Shigeru’s father’s former position, and the younger brother, Masahiro, where Shigeru used to sit on Lord Otori’s left-hand side. Shigeru neither liked nor admired Shoichi, but these feelings were coldly indifferent compared to the hatred Masahiro aroused in him for his seduction of Akane. He gave no indication of any of these emotions now, merely greeted his uncles in formal language, bowing deeply to the ground, raising himself only when Shoichi returned his greeting and instructed him to sit up.
They exchanged inquiries about each other’s health and families and comments about the fine weather, the onset of summer, and other innocuous matters. Shigeru spoke at some length about his farming experiments, allowing himself to ramble on enthusiastically about the possibilities of the sesame crop and the necessity of good fertilization. He was explaining his theories on the ideal way to treat horse manure when Lord Shoichi interrupted him.
“I am sure all the clan’s farmers will benefit from Lord Shigeru’s wisdom in such things, but we have more important matters to raise with you today.”
“Please tell me, Uncle. Forgive me for having been so tedious. I am becoming a bore about my hobbies, I know.”
“I suppose this recent trip with Terada was in pursuit of some other hobby?” Masahiro said, smiling unpleasantly.
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His expression made Shigeru uneasy; Masahiro’s lecherous character gave him a nose for sniffing out illicit love affairs. If he mentions her, I will kill him here, and then myself. He forced his own smile.
“Indeed, it was,” he replied. “I am interested in fishing techniques. Terada showed me their best fields, their nets, the way they preserve the catch, both salt and fresh. And his son taught me some useful knots.” He took the cord from his breast and showed them Fumio’s tricks. “Delightful, aren’t they? You should let me teach you, Uncle, and you can entertain your children.” He deftly twisted the cord into the pattern Fumio called the Helmet and displayed it. “Of course, this was not the only hobby. I spent some time in a haunted shrine and collected a fine account for my compilation.”
“Your compilation?” Lord Shoichi repeated in some puzzlement.
“Ancient Tales of Apparitions. That’s what I have decided to call it. It will be a collection of ghost stories from the Three Countries. These stories are passed on by word of mouth. Some are extremely old. I don’t believe anyone has ever written them down.”
“You take after your father,” Masahiro said, grinning. “He was also a believer in the supernatural, in signs and apparitions.”
“I am my father’s son,” Shigeru replied quietly.
“Terada seems to grow more influential every day.” Shoichi leaned forward, looking intently at Shigeru. “Did you sense any disloyalty toward us?”
“Certainly not,” Shigeru replied. “He is as loyal to the clan as anyone in Hagi. But the increasing taxation irks him. He likes to make a profit—if the castle takes too much money from him, he will be driven to resist.” He spoke calmly and rationally, hoping that his uncles would see the sense in his argument. “There is no need to take more than thirty parts in a hundred from anyone—merchants, farmers, or fishermen. If we devote our energies to improving our crops, our small industries, and our catch from the sea, everyone benefits and taxes can be reduced.”
He meant what he said sincerely but also took advantage of the moment to discourse a little more on composting and irrigation. He saw scorn and boredom come into their expressions. Finally, Masahiro interrupted him. “Lord Shigeru, you are becoming too solitary.”
“Almost a recluse,” Shoichi agreed.
Shigeru bowed and said nothing.
“There would be no objection to you marrying again,” Shoichi said. “Let us find you a wife.”
Shigeru felt it represented a turning point and rejoiced inwardly. If his uncles were willing to give him permission to marry and have children, it meant they now saw him as harmless, were taken in by the mask he had assumed.
“You are very kind,” he said. “But I have not yet recovered from my wife’s death, and do not wish to undertake the responsibilities of marriage.”
“Well, keep our offer in mind,” Masahiro said. “A man cannot live without women.” He ran his tongue over his lips and gave Shigeru a glance of complicity, igniting the hatred again.
I will kill him, Shigeru vowed inwardly. I will wait for him outside one of his haunts and cut him down.
“The next matter we have to discuss is your brother,” Shoichi said.
“I believe Lord Miyoshi is pleased with his conduct,” Shigeru replied.
“He does seem to be settling down at last,” Shoichi said. “I have no complaints about him at the moment, though Lord Masahiro may feel differently.”
“Takeshi’s always been a problem, in my opinion,” Masahiro muttered. “No more so than usual recently. All the same, it will be a pleasure to be rid of him for a while.”
“He is to go away?” Shigeru questioned.
“Lord Iida has suggested he should go to Inuyama for a few years.”
“Iida wants Takeshi as a hostage?”
“There is no need to put it in such blunt terms, Lord Shigeru. It is a great honor for Lord Takeshi.”
“Have you already replied? Is it all decided?”
“No, we thought we would discuss it with you first.”
“You must not do it,” he said urgently. “It puts the Otori clan at an insupportable disadvantage with the Tohan. Iida has no right to demand this now; it was not part of the terms of the surrender. He is trying to bully you; you must not give in to him.”
“This was also Lord Miyoshi’s opinion,” Shoichi said.
“Sooner or later we will have to enter into a closer alliance with the Tohan,” Masahiro objected.
“I would not advise it,” Shigeru said, trying to hide his anger.
“But you know more about farming than statecraft, Lord Shigeru. And you are certainly more successful with your crops than you were on the battlefield.” Shoichi smiled lightly. “Let us make an agreement. Continue to confine yourself to your spirits and your sesame, and Takeshi stays in Hagi. If your behavior causes us any disquiet, your brother will go to Inuyama.”
Shigeru forced himself to smile in return. “These are my only interests, so I will not be deprived of my brother’s company. Thank you, Uncle, for your wisdom and kindness.”
HIS MOTHER QUESTIONED him closely about the meeting when he returned to the house; he told her about Terada and the suggestion of marriage but kept his uncles’ discussion of Takeshi from her. However, later that night, exhausted as he was, he confided in Ichiro all that had been said, and the old man made a record of it, placing the scroll inside one of the many chests that filled the room.
“You seem like a different man when you enter this room,” he remarked, glancing at Shigeru.
“What do you mean?”
“Lord Shigeru, I’ve known you since you were a child, have watched you grow up. I know which is your real self and which is a role you assume.”
“My brother is now hostage to my role-playing,” Shigeru said with a deep sigh.
“I’m glad to see you have profited so from my instruction,” Ichiro said obliquely. “Especially in the art of patience.”
ICHIRO SAID NOTHING more on the subject, but it was a comfort to Shigeru in the coming months to know that his teacher, at least, understood his secret motives and sympathized with them.
In the sixth month, news came from Inuyama of the birth of a son to Iida Sadamu. Official celebrations were held in Hagi and lavish gifts sent to Inuyama, and Shigeru rejoiced privately, for if Iida’s wife had given him an heir, he had no reason to divorce her and look elsewhere.
The plum rains came, followed by the days of high summer. He was fully occupied with overseeing the harvest, rose early, and retired late. When he had time, he gathered more ghost stories—and people, learning of this interest, went out of their way to bring him new material or to suggest haunted places for him to visit. In the autumn, after the typhoons had abated, he took a few days to travel north from Hagi along the coast, stopping at each village and temple, and hearing the local legends and folktales. The journey was partly to maintain his new character, partly to test how much he might travel freely without being recognized or followed, but mostly to alleviate his restlessness as the months since his last meeting with Naomi stretched away with no word from her or any way of contacting her. He returned the night before the full moon of the ninth month with several fine new tales, reasonably sure that he had not been trailed, and was writing them down when Chiyo came to the door and said, “That friend of Lord Shigeru’s, the strange one, is at the gate. Do you want to see him tonight, or will we tell him to come back tomorrow?”
“Muto Kenji?” Shigeru said, delighted, for it was over a year since Kenji’s last visit. “Bring him in at once, and bring wine and prepare something to eat with it.”
“Will you move to the upper room?” Chiyo inquired.
“No. Let him come in here. I will show him my compilation.”
Chiyo looked pleased, for she had already supplied him with many grim and weird stories.