Preoccupation with concerns of whether someone is just or unjust and scrutinizing matters from the perspective of right and wrong, good and evil, are not desirable attitudes in a follower. It suffices to be content in your role of service and esteem your lord above all else. This makes for a top-notch retainer.

—Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure

Paulo

The bright daylight woke me up. It was already well past dawn, and I felt a surge of panic.

I am going to be late to practice. Grandfather’s going beat me. Why didn’t Estêvão wake me up?

I sat up on my mat, my heart racing. Then I remembered I was no longer a sixteen-year-old boy and Estêvão was dead. I flopped back down again.

There was a tap at the door.

“Yes?”

Two serving-girls came in, bowing and offering greetings. They carried food and a clean kimono. Seeing me in nothing but a fundoshi, they set the food and clothes down and then scurried off, giggling.

Home, that place where people feed and clothe me. It had been a long time.

I stood and looked out over the garden. My father sat on the veranda of the opposite wing of the house. Next to him sat a table overflowing with books. There was an empty space on the other side of the table. I could visualize him and Estêvão poring over the texts together.

I turned away, ignoring the sudden tears that welled up in my eyes.

A growl from my stomach reminded me that Grandfather had kept me too busy to get anything to eat the night before. I grabbed one of the rice balls from the food tray and started to eat, then changed my mind and put it back. I dressed and carried the tray out into the garden.

I laid the tray on the ground and sat next to my father. “What are you reading?”

He looked at me in surprise. “A Dutch text on farming methods. They have an interesting discussion on crop rotation here.”

I took a bite of my rice ball. Dried fish filling, my favorite. It was the best morning meal I had eaten in months. The food in the saké house left a lot to be desired. My landlady mixed millet into her rice balls to keep the cost down. Rice was too expensive for most people to eat exclusively. “Crop rotation. That sounds interesting.”

I wonder what “crop rotation” is.

“Did you see much of it when you were out in the provinces?” father asked.

“Well…”

He smiled and shook his head. “Yujirō, what are you doing? I can’t believe you have developed an interest in farming.”

I tried not to look embarrassed. “You are right. My only interest in farming is eating the rice produced.”

It was stupid to think I could talk with my father the same way Estêvão did. We had nothing in common.

I considered leaving but decided to try honesty, instead. “Since my brother’s death, I have been haunted by the fact that I should have come back sooner. I could have spoken with him. Perhaps even prevented his death. I remember the boy he was, but I will never know the man he became. But then, I realized that he was not the only one I didn’t know well. So, I thought I would try and get to know you—” I sighed and stood up. “But we don’t really have anything to talk about.”

In a surprisingly strong voice, my father said, “Sit down, Yujirō.”

I resumed my seat.

“You do yourself a disservice when you try to be your brother. He had his strengths and talents, which are not the same as yours,” he said. “It is true I would have talked about farming with him, but there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

His request startled me. “What is that?”

“Tell me about the time you spent in the provinces. You are not the only one who doesn’t know his family. Tell me of the man you have become.”

I thought back to the heated parting from my family at the time of my exile and winced at the memory. It was a painful subject. Finally, I began, “Despite the show of bravado when I left, I was very upset about killing Osamu. He was a good friend.” I lost my appetite as the memory of my guilt overwhelmed me. “I was also ashamed that I had so little control of my weapons. My lack of skill had led to his death. So I determined to travel the country and challenge the most skillful samurai I could find. If they beat me, I would beg to become their student and learn everything I could. In the end, I would master my weapon. It was a grand plan.”

My father winced.

I gave a bitter laugh. “It seemed so simple when I first thought of it. It turned out to be far harder than I imagined. Even using bokuto, losing a fight could be very painful. Many of the men I fought cared little if they injured or killed their opponents. I also had a vastly exaggerated idea of my own skill. The first few months were especially challenging. I almost starved. The need to earn money was not something I had ever considered before. Such things are beneath a samurai.” I laughed wryly. “Until he has gone a few days without food. One day, I was so hungry that I stopped at a peasant hut and offered to chop wood in exchange for something to eat. The poor farmer just about fainted when he saw me at his door.” I looked back at my father and gave a small grin. “It was quite a while before I could convince him I was serious. The food was good, though. I stayed there several days just to regain my strength.”

My father shook his head. “Your mother and I worried about you. She prayed for you ceaselessly. We both did. We hoped that you would find a position with some daimyō.”

“I hoped that at first, too. But I have come to know that I cannot take such a position.”

My father raised his eyebrows. “Why not? You would have honor, security, a stipend.”

I stared up at the sky for a few moments before answering. “I left the church, but it would not leave me. A samurai must do anything his lord tells him, no matter how wrong. I am not willing to do that.”

I looked back at my father. “It was probably four years or so into my exile. By that time, I had studied with ten or twelve different teachers and was beginning to feel more confident of my skills. I rarely lost any duels, so I decided to see if I could get some practical experience. Word came of renewed fighting on the northern border with with the Ainu savages, so I traveled to Hokkaido and joined the army.”

The memories sickened me. My feelings must have shown on my face, because my father urged me on, “What happened?”

I shrugged. “We beat them. They weren’t terribly skilled, although they fought bravely. There was never any doubt about the outcome, though. After a few battles, even the Ainu themselves could see they couldn’t win, so they surrendered.”

Father looked at me in confusion. “Why is that a problem?”

“That wasn’t the problem. We hosted the Ainu leaders to have them sign the treaty. In honor of the occasion, our generals and theirs had a feast with copious amounts of saké.” I swallowed. “Once everyone was deeply under the influence of the saké, they gave the order to strike. We killed all the Ainu generals.”

My father gasped, his eyes wide. “No!”

“Yes. I was one of the men picked for the detail. They didn’t tell us our mission until the last moment. I was horrified, but the habit of obedience had been drilled into me by Grandfather and the teachers I studied with. I did as I was ordered, but then quit the next day. It was at that point that I realized I could never become the follower of a daimyō.” I sat for a moment, thinking. “I have never met a man to whom I could trust my soul.”

I shrugged and took a bite of the rice ball. I had talked so long that it was getting dry and gritty. “So, I remain a rōnin, making my way as best I can. I take small tasks and short jobs that require me to do things that aren’t evil and won’t imperil my soul, though there is little honor in many of them. At least I can sleep at night.” I took the final bite of my food and swallowed the dry rice only with difficulty. “Most nights.”

Father slowly smiled. “You astonish me, Yujirō. When you were young, I looked at you and saw a reflection of my wayward brothers. The unheeding arrogance, the surety that you were right, the unwillingness to listen to others. I feared that you would tread their path to rebellion. That is one reason I disowned you.” He shook his head, still smiling broadly. “I am delighted to see I was wrong.”

I stood up, walked to the rail of the veranda, and gazed out over the garden. “No, Father. You were right. I was stubborn, willful, ignorant, and arrogant. There were things I needed to know that I couldn’t learn here.” I gestured towards the training field behind the house. “Here I practiced weapons and listened to tales of past glory. I didn’t learn what war truly meant until I joined the fight against the Ainu.” I turned back to my father. “When Grandfather told us his tales, he never spoke of the price people paid.”

“Or the price he paid,” my father said softly. “Your great-grandfather was killed at Sekigahara just after your grandfather was born. In the battles that followed, your grandfather lost both his older brothers as well. He had been fighting since he was fifteen.

“Tokugawa Ieyasu ended the wars at Osaka Castle, so your grandfather supported the bakufu even when he disapproved of the shogun. In his mind, any shogun was better than the chaos of civil war.” Father shook his head. “My brothers betrayed their father. Their participation in the Keian uprising was a repudiation of everything he believed in. They were willing to risk civil war for a chance at glory.”

“Grandfather couldn’t forgive that?”

“I don’t know, but he couldn’t execute the sons of other men for treason and spare his own.”

I gazed at my father, mouth open in shock. My world had suddenly taken a sharp turn. When I thought of my uncles, I remembered laughing young men who played with me and gave me my first lessons with the sword. I loved them and had always hated Grandfather for allowing them to die. A shiver ran through me as I realized I understood Grandfather’s decision completely. I probably would have done the same thing had I been in his place. It was sobering to realize I knew what made him what he was. I still didn’t like him, but I understood. The horrible thought came to me that I might be in greater danger of becoming like my grandfather than ending up like my uncles.

“Excuse me.” A servant approached and bowed. “There is a chonin at the gate who insists on speaking to Maeda Yujiro-san. He gives his name as Hitoshi.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I bowed to my father. “Forgive me. That is something that I need to attend to. I have greatly enjoyed our talk.”

Father nodded and smiled. “As have I. We will speak again, soon.”

Hitoshi waited outside the house, pacing under a tree near the gate. When he saw me step out of the house, he leapt forward. “Maeda-sensei, I am glad to see you are alive. I have been worried.”

I grinned at him. “I am fine, Hitoshi.” I gave him a slight bow. “You saved my life yesterday, and I am grateful.”

He looked embarrassed and confused. “It was nothing. I should have spotted her earlier. Perhaps your brother would still be alive if I did.”

“No, Hitoshi. I believe she had nothing to do with that.”

“Well, I came to warn you that she is still at the Academy. I will chase her off when I get back, but you need to be careful.”

“She is working with my grandfather and me now. Everything is fine,” I assured him.

He looked at me in surprise. “She is working with the secret police?”

“Yes.”

Hitoshi frowned. “Well…if you say it is all right.”

He started walking back to the gate. “Oh, sensei. I have been meaning to ask you. I remembered that your brother owned a book that he liked to write in. When he was talking to the merchants about what they were paying for rice and looking at the warehouses, he wrote in it. Did you find that? It might have some relevant information.”

“A book? No, not that I know of. I will talk to the family. Thank you again, Hitoshi.”

I went back in the house and paused before the family butsudan. The paper sealing the doors was gone and it was open again. There was a new tablet in it. I picked up and studied the name on it. I frowned. That would be Estêvão’s kaimyō. A new Buddhist name is given at the funeral to prevent the spirit from returning if their old name is called. I wasn’t sure that could actually happen, but it is unwise to take chances, and we must maintain appearances. A screen opened near me and then I heard a light step as Gracia came into the room. She stopped. With the garden as a backdrop, she looked like a painting of a goddess. I gave her a slight bow.

“What is his new name, Gracia?”

“Choshin, it means Bright Faith. It cost quite a bit to buy from the temple, but Mother and I thought it would be a suitable name for him.”

“Yes, it is a good name.” I put the tablet back.

“What happened to you?” Gracia touched the bruise on my face.

Even a single feather-light touch from her was enough to set my heart pounding and my skin sweating. To hide how much she was affecting me, I took a half-step back. “Oh, that.” I laughed. “I had a ‘friendly’ conversation with the secret police. They didn’t like some of my answers.”

She raised her hand to her mouth. “That is terrible! This was because of your investigation of Estêvão’s death, wasn’t it? You said you would be careful.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Nothing you do can change the fact that he is dead. Please don’t pursue it further. I don’t want you killed too.”

“I can’t stop now, Gracia.”

She turned to me, her eyes boring into mine. “Yes. Yes, you can. Leave it in the hands of God. He will bring Estêvão justice. It is not your role.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple, Gracia. If I don’t avenge him, the duty will fall to your sons.”

“No, it won’t.” Gracia’s voice was intense. “They have no idea who killed him or why it happened. How could they avenge him? No one can expect them to take that on themselves. And what if they don’t? Nothing will happen. They won’t be breaking any laws. It is not like they will be arrested.”

“Gracia, if they let it go, they will lose face. Honor demands vengeance. Other men will think less of them.”

"Honor?" she shouted. “More bushidõ foolishness? The world is changing. Why should they care what others think?”

I stared at her, unable to fathom why she didn’t understand. “They have to care. Their place in the world depends on the respect of others. In any case, while you might get Miguel to forego vengeance, I don’t believe Mateus will.”

She stiffened. “I will talk to him. He will understand when he grows up.” Her voice was tight.

I stared at Estêvão’s memorial tablet, trying to control my frustration. Why wouldn’t she listen to me on this? She had been much more reasonable when we were younger.

What would you do, brother?

I looked back at her. “Gracia, you don’t know what it is like out in the world. A man who allows his father to go unavenged is the worst kind of son, and that will affect his entire life.”

Gracia threw her hands up in frustration. “It doesn’t matter. None of it is real. Samurai don’t fight wars anymore. All this worry about fighting and killing is outdated.” She started pacing back and forth, upset by the topic. “What does a vendetta have to do with running the country? We are at peace and the samurai are bureaucrats, not warriors. I don’t believe that people really care that deeply about family honor and vengeance.”

I sighed. “Others may not, but I do. And fighting and killing are some of the things I am best at.” I laughed bitterly. “It is all I am good at. Let me do this for the boys, so they don’t have to become like me. Let me clear this cloud or it will always hang over them.”

“You think you can fight the people who killed Estêvão?” she asked, her voice rising again. “What if you are killed like he was? What if they come after the rest of us?”

“They might anyway,” I answered.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else.” Her voice broke.

“Gracia, it’s not that simple. Grandfather and I—”

She shook her head violently. “You don’t understand,” she cried and fled the room with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Trust me to upset the one person in the family I most want to please.

I stared after her. I had intended to ask her about Estêvão’s book but never got the chance.

Grandfather might know. I would ask him.

I followed the veranda along the garden to Grandfather’s wing of the house. As I approached, I heard groaning coming from inside.

“Grandfather, is something wrong?” I pushed the screen aside.

Grandfather was trying to stand up. He leaned heavily on his cane and managed to straighten his back, moaning the entire time. “People think living a long life is a blessing. I never expected to last this long,” he complained. “If you live long enough, you start suffering the pains of jigoku before you even die.” He hobbled out to the veranda and leaned on the rail.

I was concerned. “Will you be able to visit Inspector Asano today?”

He glared at me. “Of course I will. I am a bushi. A little pain cannot stop me.” He limped down the veranda, muttering something about tea.

I chased after him. “Did my brother have a book that he wrote in?”

Grandfather stopped and turned to look at me. “Yes.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Hmmph. No.” He turned away and continued walking

“You have no idea of where he put it?” I asked.

“If I had an idea of where it was, I would have found it. I told him to hide it well after a thief tried to break into the house few days before he died, but I never thought to ask where he put it. Now quit bothering me. The Twin Dragons need sharpening. Make yourself useful and take care of them. Start with the wakizashi—you might have time to finish it before we have to leave.” He limped toward the kitchen, yelling for a servant.

I glared after him. There had been a thief in the house? What else hadn’t my grandfather told me?

My good mood from talking to my father was completely ruined. I grabbed the sharpening box and slammed it down on the veranda, dumped the whetstones and a bucket of water into it. As I grabbed the wakizashi and sat by the box, I noticed three pairs of eyes watching me.

My niece and nephews were on the other side of the garden. The presence of the boys reminded me of my responsibilities. I needed to find the time for more arms lessons for them. There was no chance I would get any time that day. I looked at them again and got an idea.

Anyone who uses a weapon needs to know how to care for it. That can be today’s lesson.

I beckoned to them.

The three children ran to me, eyes on the sword in my hand. They all started talking at once. “Is that one of the Twin Dragons?” “Can we see it?” “Great-Grandpa never lets us touch them.”

I pulled the blade part way out of the sheath and let them look at it. They fell silent and stared.

“Did Grandfather say you could touch it? I didn’t think he let anyone else handle it,” Miguel whispered.

I looked at him in surprise. “He told me to sharpen it. Didn’t he have your father do that?”

All three of the children stared at me with round eyes and shook their heads.

I tried to remember Estêvão sharpening blades. He never had much interest in it. Grandfather taught Estêvão how, but I couldn’t remember him ever actually sharpening the Twin Dragons.

Grandfather must have intended to leave the Twin Dragons to Estêvão after I was disinherited. Hadn’t he?

“Can we watch?” Matias asked.

“You can do better than that. Any samurai should be able to sharpen a katana. Today, you will learn how.”

Mateus bounced up and down in excitement.

Miguel frowned. “Father always said that it is better to take it to a professional.”

“In the field, you don’t have that luxury. Each samurai must maintain his own blade. And it can be expensive to go to a professional. Part of knowing how to use a weapon is understanding how to take care of it.” I stood up. “We will look for some ruined swords to practice on.”

“I have Father’s swords,” Miguel said. “I will sharpen them.”

“No, you will not,” I responded sharply. “You will probably ruin the first swords you try to sharpen. We will practice on ones that are worthless, so it won’t matter if you damage them.”

“Can I sharpen one too?” Elisabet asked softly.

I looked at her in surprise. I hadn’t thought she would be interested. She had been standing back and watching the boys and me. I smiled. “Of course. Samurai women often had to defend the estate when their men were gone. You should probably learn the use of weapons and their care as well.” There didn’t seem to be much need now, but there was no way to know what course her life would take. It couldn’t hurt.

Elisabet clapped her hands together and smiled.

“When I was younger than the boys, my mother led the garrison and held off forty bandits that attacked the holding,” Grandfather shouted from across the garden as he walked between buildings. “Not many women today that could do that.”

I led the children to the armory and pulled out some broken weapons that had been set aside to be melted down. As I looked them over, I asked the children, “Did your father have a book that he wrote in?”

They nodded.

“Do you know where it is?”

They looked at one other and shook their heads. “He always carried it with him,” Miguel said.

“He didn’t have it with him when…” I stopped, not willing to finish the thought and remind the children of their father’s recent murder. Instead, I changed the subject. “We need to see what he put in it. Do you think you could find it?” I asked them. “It might be important.”

They all nodded their heads solemnly.

We found swords or knives for everyone. I demonstrated how to remove the pins that held the handle onto the blade, how to hold the blade and the stroke used when sharpening it. Fortunately, the Dragon wakizashi needed little work, and I finished with it quickly. Afterwards, I observed the children carefully as they handled the weapons to make sure they didn’t hurt themselves. It would be some time before safe handling of a blade became second nature to them.

Miguel was methodical and careful, straining to make each stroke perfect. Mateus alternated between frustration and elation as he struggled to do things correctly. Elisabet was so cautious that she barely touched the tantō to the stone. Grandfather took a seat near us in the garden and from time to time commented on the children’s technique. Father also came out to watch. It was pleasant, being surrounded by family.

Finally, Grandfather announced it was time for us to leave. I took the blades from the children, extracting an oath from each of them that they would not attempt to sharpen a sword without an adult present for at least a year. That was probably too long for Miguel, but I privately thought of making it two years for Mateus.

As Grandfather and I walked out the gate, I fingered the bruise along my jaw and my mind went back to the beating I had received from Asano. I smiled slowly.

Time to return the favor.

Grandfather glanced at me and said, “We need information. I know you want to kill him, but that can’t happen. At least not at first. You can threaten him all you want, though.”

I need to get better at hiding my thoughts. Or maybe you can’t fool those who know you best.