You may abandon your body, but preserve your honor.

—Miyamoto Musashi, Go Rin no Sho

Paulo

I read the directions scribbled on the note in my hand for the third time and scowled.

Turn north on the last street before the Nihonbashi bridge. It’s located just past the second gate on your left.

A solid wall of shops lined both sides of the dirt street. Multicolored banners hanging from the eaves fluttered in the aimless summer breeze, advertising cooking pots, saké, dried fish, and more. Through open rice-paper covered windows, I glimpsed an old man waving his fan in a vain attempt to ease the sweltering afternoon warmth. Mount Fuji had a dream-like quality shimmering in the distance through the heated air.

As the crowd surged around me, I accidentally jostled a peasant in drab clothing. He dropped his bundle of wood. With a curse, he turned to me, then frantically bowed and apologized when he saw the twin swords in my obi. In truth, I couldn’t hear what he said over the cries of the street vendors hawking everything from paper fans to sweetened rice balls.

I reached the near side of the Nihonbashi bridge and turned left onto a smaller street. Edo Castle, the shogun’s stronghold, loomed over the city ahead of me. I passed through one gate, then spotted the second gate.

This close to the bridge, the stores were larger than the usual Edo shops. They could afford to be—they catered to high-ranking samurai and wealthy chonin. Wares were displayed on the ground floor, with the shop door leading to the street. Living quarters occupied the rear of the first floor and the upper floor. Attractive tile roofing contrasted pleasantly with the painted and plastered wood construction.

A monk seated by the gate called out blessings to passersby and shook his begging bowl, but I ignored him. Other beggars lined the streets, perching wherever they could sit down without being dislodged by the flowing crowds or irate shopkeepers. Emaciated and listless, there was a sad similarity to their faces, the hopeless look of people going through the motions of trying to stay alive, without any real expectation of success.

Why have all these beggars come here to the capital? Rice prices aren’t any better here than anyplace else, in fact rice is probably more a lot more expensive than in the provinces.

The ongoing famine meant there would be no relief for these starving wretches anytime soon. If I didn’t get some money, I might soon be joining them.

The crowds flowed around me as I studied the shops, looking for one selling tea ceremony implements.

“Chadōgu. Chadōgu. Where is it?”

A young girl bounced off my legs as she raced to a yatai food cart selling dagashi just to my left. The harried young woman tending the cart pushed a wisp of hair from her eyes and smiled shakily at me even as she tried to serve the mob of screaming children buying treats with their precious mon. I eyed the brightly colored snacks and candies and my stomach growled. My purse was as empty as my stomach, so I looked away and kept walking. walking.

A high-level samurai, dressed in a pure silk kimono emblazoned with the Tokugawa family crest, strutted past the cart, scattering the crowded children with a harsh bark. The hastily pulled her cart out of his way, giving him a deep bow.

He strutted along, never looking left or right. I eyed his pale skin and flabby muscles with contempt. He’d probably never faced an armed foe in his life.

This arrogant fool was a samurai only because his great-grandfather had been fortunate enough to fight for the winning side in the civil war. Now he and all his great-grandfather’s descendants were accorded the privileges of the ruling class. Though this sad specimen wore the twin swords of the military elite, he was no doubt a bureaucrat in charge of something like ensuring people didn’t empty their chamber pots into the streets. Most samurai these days held government positions, and the bakufu paid them a stipend.

A samurai from a good family had no need to worry about the trivialities of providing for himself. Unless, of course, he managed to make a complete mess of his life—like I had.

I still hadn’t found the store.

Paulo, it can’t be that hard to find a shop. Why are you having so much trouble? It’s already past noon.

A red shop banner with the characters for “chadogu” caught my eye. It was about time. This simple errand was taking far too long.

I paused at the shop entrance and checked inside. There were no customers. That would make this easier. I ducked under the low door frame as I pushed my way through the curtains to the interior.

An enthusiastic greeting of Irasshaimase! sounded from the living quarters in the back. “Please wait. I’ll be there in just a moment,” the shopkeeper added. I could hear him moving around.

Everything needed for the tea ceremony was on display—from cheap cups created by peasants in Echigo province to delicate porcelain tea sets with tasteful gold and silver inlays imported from China. Bags of tea lined one wall. I studied the labels with interest. The shop had a wide selection of good quality teas. Everything indicated this was a successful shop and the owner a prosperous merchant.

A few moments later, the beaming shopkeeper entered from the back room. A heavy, middle-aged man with a florid face, his kimono was of fine maroon silk and dyed with a pattern displaying the seal on the banner outside the shop.

His face fell at the sight of my threadbare kimono. His eyes flicked to the two well-worn weapons I carried in my belt. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, he pasted his smile back on and asked, “Okyakusama, how may I be of service today? Do you need anything for hosting a tea ceremony?”

He didn’t want me here. That was fair—I didn’t want to be there. But, I had to earn money somehow.

“No,” I said. “I am here on a business matter.”

The smile once more disappeared to be replaced with a look of confusion. “Business? What sort of business matter?”

I leaned against a cabinet with shelves filled with valuable items—ethereal porcelain tea cups and bowls, tastefully lacquered tea kettles, and even a pair of finely carved jade tea scoops. “I’ve been asked to speak with regarding an overdue debt.”

Eyes riveted on the cabinet, the shopkeeper raised his hands as if to steady it. “Please, be careful.”

I cocked my head to one side, raising an eyebrow.

He backed up a half-step. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I have no debts.” Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Inwardly, I sighed. Apparently, the fool was going to make me pry the money out of him.

I pulled a piece of paper out of my kimono, unfolded it and studied it. Green tea. Saké. Soba noodles. Kettle. It was an old shopping list.

Oh yes, a kettle.

I had broken my tea kettle some time before and kept forgetting to get a new one.

The shopkeeper craned his neck, trying to get a better look at the writing.

I held it up in one hand. “According to this, you borrowed 50 ryō from Sanesaki-san last year, yet you never paid it back.”

Rivulets of sweat ran down his face. “Sanesaki-san died three months ago.”

I gazed steadily at him. “That’s true. And his poor widow is left without the support of her husband. As a favor, she asked me to speak with you about the matter. But you’re saying that you know nothing about this?”

He shook his head vigorously, refusing to meet my eye. “I never borrowed any money from him.”

He was lying. Why did such an obviously successful merchant refuse to pay an honest debt? It didn’t matter. What happened next was his own fault for trying to cheat the widow Sanesaki.

I nodded my head slowly as I folded the paper and put it back inside my kimono sleeve. “I see. Well, I will have to tell Sanesaki-san she was mistaken.”

Relief flooded over the shopkeeper’s face.

I made a small bow then rose abruptly, my shoulder striking the edge of the cabinet and knocking several expensive items to the floor. Two porcelain cups and a tea bowl shattered. One of the jade tea scoops clattered on the wooden floor before coming to rest not far from my foot.

“Forgive my clumsiness,” I said.

“You graceless oaf!” the shopkeeper yelled. “Watch what you’re doing. You’ll pay for anything you break!”

Rage filled me. I slowly straightened to my full height and stared down at the man without saying anything. He might be wearing a fine kimono and I a ragged one, but I was a samurai, and he was just a chonin. I would be legally justified to kill him for an insult like that.

The color fled from his face when he realized what he had said. He began edging for the door.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to be calm. I could kill him, but the job was to collect a debt, and corpses don’t pay. Nor was it right to kill a man over a simple insult. Only my accursed temper had even made me consider it.

I looked around the shop. “Your shop has many beautiful and expensive things.” I raised my foot and carefully placed it on the jade scoop on the floor, without putting any weight on it. “I imagine the destruction of so many precious things would be a terrible loss.”

His face grew even paler as my words registered. “No!” he gasped.

Grabbing a set of jade tea utensils from the shell and stuffing them into his kimono, the merchant stepped out into the street. I could hear him yelling for the constable stationed at the nearby gate.

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His face gleamed with triumph as he reentered the store. “You won’t get away with this. You will pay for your crime.”

Instead of paying his debt honestly, he was more interested in continuing the pretense that he didn’t owe any money. However, he was not the only one capable of pretending.

I waited with my arms folded across my chest. Two constables came rushing through the door. One wore the twin swords of a samurai, and they both had their jutte out, ready for action. “What is going on here?” the samurai demanded.

The merchant puffed out his chest and pointed to me. “This man came into my store, threatened me, and destroyed valuable merchandise.”

The policeman looked me up and down. His grip on his jutte tightened as he realized I was nearly a head taller and quite a bit broader-shouldered than he was. “You! Is this correct?”

I answered calmly, “Officer, my name is Maeda Yujirō. It’s true I knocked a few things over but—” I waved my hand to indicate my size, “—I am a big man. As you know, we large fellows tend to be a bit clumsy. I assure you it was completely unintentional.”

The second constable had been staring at me with wide eyes. Now he grabbed his partner and dragged him back while whispering in his ear. I overheard the words “Sleeping Tiger.” The first policeman’s mouth dropped open.

I ground my teeth together. I hated that nickname. Sleeping Tiger. It made me sound like a fat, lazy house cat.

“Really, all this is just a simple misunderstanding,” I assured the policemen. “I think the good shopkeeper and I can work things out between ourselves. I’m sorry to have caused you any trouble.”

When the first constable spoke again, his voice was a bit higher than it had been. “If the two of you can work it out, that would be for the best. It would make it easier for everyone.”

The two officers bowed several times and left the store, almost running in their haste.

The shopkeeper, his mouth open and an expression of disbelief on his face, watched them leave. He rushed to the door and thrust the curtains aside. “Wait! What about my complaint? What am I paying you for?”

The first officer yelled back, “You’re not paying us enough to fight the Sleeping Tiger!”

Over the shopkeeper’s shoulder, I saw the constables hurrying back to their post at the gate.

The shopkeeper turned around, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “No,” he whispered, “you can’t do this to me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I? I’m doing nothing. I was merely remarking on how much it would cost you to replace some of these items.” I returned my foot to the jade scoop and gently twisted my foot back and forth.

The shopkeeper reached into his kimono and plucked out ten koban coins, the gold ovals gleaming in his palms. “You can take these and the widow Sanesaki need never know any of this.”

I leaned forward a little, emphasizing my pressure on the jade piece beneath my foot. “Are you suggesting I cheat a poor, desperate widow?”

His eyes never leaving my foot, the shopkeeper blurted out, “Oh wait—now I remember. I did borrow money. I don’t know how I could have forgotten. I can have the money to the widow in a matter of days.”

I nodded, still keeping my foot on the jade scoop. “It’s good you remembered your debt. However, you shouldn’t wait to pay. You know the old saying, Speak of the future and the mice in the ceiling laugh. Life is so chancy. One can be a successful shop-owner in the morning—” I waved my hand at the contents of the shop “—and a ruined pauper by afternoon.”

“Wait, wait,” he cried. “I received a deposit for a custom tea set yesterday. I’ll be right back.” He dashed into the back of the shop. He returned bearing two paper-wrapped packages each bearing the official bakufu mint seal with 25 Koban printed on the top. He shoved them into my hands “Here! Take these and give them to the widow. Tell her how sorry I am I forgot the debt.”

Without bothering to open the packages, I placed the money in my kimono. I bent down and picked up the jade scoop, carefully placing it back on the shelf. Patting the merchant on the shoulder, I said, “I’m glad we were able to resolve this.”

I continued to help the merchant replace the items on the shelves. A tea kettle had gotten chipped when I knocked it to the floor. Remembering my shopping list, I asked, “How much for a tea kettle? I broke mine a while ago.”

In a choked voice, the merchant said, “Oh, that is almost worthless. Please, take it with my compliments.”

“Really? That’s very kind of you.”

The merchant grabbed the kettle off the floor and wrapped it up in a cotton kerchief while I finished tidying up for him.

I left with kettle in hand. As I exited the shop, I heard the merchant muttering, “…just my luck to get the only honest ronin in Edo.”

I shook my head in disgust with myself.

An excellent job of terrorizing a hapless merchant, Sleeping Tiger. Soon the tales of your heroic deeds will spread all over the city, earning the admiration of everyone who hears of them. Maybe next time, someone will hire you to bully a small child and take their candy.

The widow Sanesaki lived a short distance from the shop. Only three blocks back from the main street and through a single gate, it was a completely different city. The houses here were small and narrow, the rice-paper on many of the windows torn, the roadways cramped, and the inhabitants poor. The widow’s husband had been the oyabun, the boss of this part of the city, before he died. He had always preferred to work out of his old run-down dwelling to emphasize his humble beginnings and supposed affinity with the chonin, the urban dwellers of Edo. Of course, his dwelling was the largest on the block. It had its own gate in a fence surrounding his property, but the size was nothing compared to the houses of the great samurai and rich merchants. After her husband’s death, the widow Sanesaki continued to work out of the house as she struggled to fill her husband’s place as oyabun.

As I walked up to the door, six tattooed young men lounged around outside the building. They wore ragged kimono in various states of cleanliness. The sides of their heads were shaved and their wakizashi were longer than allowed by government regulation. The outlandish garb and hair proclaimed their disdain for the bakufu and its rules. As I moved to enter the house, the one closest to the entrance bestirred himself enough to place himself in my path, his face sporting a malicious grin.

I stopped and looked at him steadily, not saying anything. He craned his neck to meet my gaze, but after a few moments, his smile faded, he looked away and moved aside. I continued on, sliding open the door and going inside.

Against the wall of the room leaned another young man dressed similarly to the ones outside, but with an indefinable aura of menace about him. He looked at me and then at the widow Sanesaki sitting on the tatami floor behind a low table.

Her face lit up in smiles and she waved her hand at a place across the table from her. “Sit down, sit down! You’re back so soon! I would have thought it would take longer. Was there any trouble?”

I shrugged and sat. “The shopkeeper called a couple of policemen, but when I explained to them we were just having a friendly discussion, they decided it was none of their affair. Here is the money.”

I reached into my kimono, pulled out the two packages of coins, and placed them on the table. The widow grabbed them up and tore the paper off, checking each coin carefully. Smiling, she counted five coins out from one of the stacks and tossed them onto the table in front of me. “There you go. Five ryō, as we agreed.”

I picked up the coins and put them away. They added a comforting weight to my empty purse. Curiosity getting the better of me, I finally asked, “Why did you need me to talk to the shopkeeper when you have them,” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, “hanging around.”

She glanced to the left and right, then continued in a lower voice. “They’re good boys, but they are new. When my husband died, only his lieutenant, Kazuke,” she nodded towards the silent man standing against the wall, “agreed to stay and help me. So, I had to find new men.” She grimaced. “They’re enthusiastic, but dealing with shopkeepers takes a certain finesse I am afraid they lack. Also, I haven’t had enough money to make the usual arrangements with the local police so I can go about my business. I worried my boys might get themselves arrested.” With a smile, she added, “I knew that wouldn’t happen with you.”

She sat up straight. “But, where are my manners? Let’s drink a bowl of saké.” She looked at Kazuke, who left the room and returned with a steaming flask and two bowls. Placing a bowl in front of each of us, he filled them before resuming his place against the wall, leaving the warmed flask of rice wine in front of us.

The widow took her bowl in hand, “Kampai!” she said, and downed it in one gulp. I drank mine a little more slowly.

I cleared my throat. “If there is nothing else?”

The widow smiled and said, “No, I believe that concludes our business. I will be contacting you again should the need arise. Good fortune to you.”

I bowed my head slightly and said, “And to you.” I stood and walked out.

The moment I left the room, the insolent young man who had attempted to block my way rushed into the building. Hearing raised voices, I stopped to undo the wrappings on my new tea kettle and rewrap it, to give me a chance to eavesdrop.

“You gave that man five koban to talk to the shopkeeper? Why? We could have handled it!”

“Silence!” The authority in the old woman’s voice astonished me. She sounded almost exactly like my grandfather correcting me when I was a small boy.

“I gave him the money because I knew he could collect on the debt. I have no such hopes for you yet. In any case, it is not your place to question what I do. Your job, Saburō, is to learn to follow orders. Now, get out.”

I quickly finished tying the wrappings on the tea kettle and resumed walking. I had been skeptical of the widow’s ability to take her husband’s place as boss, but after that last exchange, I wondered. There was steel in her, for certain.

The smell of noodles caught my attention. I walked over to look at the dishes displayed in front of a small soba stand by the side of the road. I was very hungry, but after staring at the food, I decided to wait until I got home. It was cheaper to eat my landlady’s cooking, and she put more meat in her noodles.

As I was passing through a narrow alleyway, someone stepped out of the shadows into the middle of the road. It was Saburō, the arrogant bully from the widow Sanesaki’s. The sound of running feet approached me from behind.

“I think you have something that belongs to us,” he said, holding out his hand. “We need that money she gave you.”

I sighed. “Does she know you are doing this?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Saburō.

He smirked. “No, and she’s not going to.”

God in heaven, deliver me from idiots. They disobey their boss and plan on killing me for five koban.

“This is a very bad idea,” I said mildly.

Saburō said something, his tone hostile and his stance belligerent, but I ignored it. Instead, I listened carefully to the sounds around me. Quick steps behind me, heavy, frightened breathing to the right, and shuffling steps to the left. Saburō’s friends. There were two on each side, and one behind me.

Six is too many. I can’t afford to let them make the first move.

I let my mind go blank and threw my new tea kettle at Saburō’s head. Reaching for the hilt of my katana, I became one with my weapon. Training replaced thought. Without emotion, without expectations, I reacted to what I saw, sensed, and heard.

Saburō gasped as the edge of my weapon opened up his belly. To my left, a blade rang as it left its sheath. I ducked and the blade whistled over my head, cutting empty air. Pivoting to the right, I performed a quick double butterfly cut to either side. The shock traveled up my arms as I sliced through a wrist with each strike. Facing back to the left, I brought my katana up in a powerful chop that took off the head of the man who’d tried to take off mine. His companion stood there, open-mouthed, so I kicked him hard in the knee. He collapsed into a heap, grasping at his injured leg.

A step came behind me. I reversed my katana and stabbed to the rear, feeling the rasp of metal against bone as the blade penetrated the chest of the man about to attack.

The ensuing silence was broken when Saburō began screaming as he tried to replace the intestines spilling out of the huge slice across his belly. The two on the right stared in astonishment at the blood spurting from the stumps of their arms where their hands had formerly been.

With a dull thud, the head of the first man on the left landed in the street, followed shortly by his slumping body. The fourth man wailed in pain as he cradled his knee.

With a savage pull, I freed my blade from the body of the man behind me, who collapsed soundlessly to the ground. I looked for a clean spot on his dirty kimono and found a piece of fabric marginally less soiled than the rest. I wiped the gore off my blade, checked the edge for nicks, and then sheathed my weapon.

A laborer at the end of the alley stared transfixed at the bodies on the ground. When he realized I was looking at him, he made a squeak of alarm and hurried off.

I picked up my wrapped tea kettle, but the rattling from inside confirmed my worst fears. It had shattered. Throwing it to the ground in disgust, I continued on my way, ignoring the sound of the wounded and dying behind me. They had chosen their fate. I hoped the widow Sanesaki wouldn’t be too put out.

As the tension of battle drained from me, I yawned. Food and then a nap, I decided. I headed home.

Maybe next time, the widow Sanesaki will find smarter henchmen.