Free Cloud of Sparrows by Takashi Matsuoka Page B

Buddha’s law of inescapable karma, death they also received. Unlike the powerful warlords, courtesans were feared by no one. Weakness, in fact, was what they so artfully embodied with the exquisite fragility of their beauty, their grace, their youth. Thus, they could go where they wished without fear. This, too, followed the Buddha’s law.
    “Lady Heiko,” Sachiko whispered, “we are being followed.”
    “Ignore him,” Heiko said. The lane through which they passed was lined with cherry trees. In the spring, they would be full of the blossoms so celebrated in paintings and poems throughout the ages. Now these trees were black and barren. Yet were they not as beautiful? She paused to admire a single bare branch that caught her eye. The light dusting of morning snow had nearly melted completely away, leaving icy water drops. Only a few flakes remained in the shadowed crook of the branch. In a moment, she would continue on her way. Sunlight would reach into this shadow. Well before she arrived at her destination, these snowflakes would be gone. The thought tightened her chest. Unwelcome tears welled in her eyes. Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu. Veneration to the Compassionate Buddha, who saves all sufferers. Heiko breathed from deep within her center and kept her tears from falling. It was truly a terrible thing to be in love.
    “We should not tarry,” Sachiko said. “You are expected in the hour of the snake.”
    “I should not make appointments so early,” Heiko said. “It is unsoothing to begin the day in a rush.”
    “True, true,” Sachiko said. “Yet what can a woman do? She is told, and she obeys.” Sachiko was nineteen, the same age as Heiko, but acted as if much older. In an important sense, that was her job. By taking on all the practical considerations, she freed Heiko from the mundane burdens of daily life.
    The two women resumed walking. It was Kudo who followed them. He fancied himself an expert in surveillance. How he had acquired that conceit, Heiko couldn’t guess. Like most samurai, Kudo was impatient. His entire training taught him to seek the single decisive moment that determined life or death. A lightning slash with his sword. Blood and life running out onto the earth. It almost didn’t matter who was vanquished and who was victorious. The decisive moment. That’s what counted. Following two women who strolled so leisurely, and who stopped so often to admire a tree, or examine goods, or simply to rest, this was extreme duress for him. So of course, Heiko made sure she took even slower steps than usual, and made more than the normal number of stops, and engaged in the most unhurried of conversations. By the time they reached the Tsukiji district’s main shopping area, Kudo was scurrying around like a trapped rat.
    “Now,” Heiko said. Several neighborhood women passed by, temporarily shielding her from Kudo. She walked beside them to a shop across the street, while Sachiko simply squatted down and devoted her full attention to a basket of dried squid. She watched from an alleyway as Kudo came running up. He looked frantically here and there, not even noticing Heiko’s maid at his feet. When his back was turned, Heiko recrossed the street and stood behind him. She acted surprised when he nearly walked into her.
    “Kudo-sama. What a coincidence. Are you shopping for silk scarves, too?” Throughout their brief conversation, Heiko had to struggle mightily not to break down in laughter. When Kudo was gone, angrily striding toward Hamacho, Heiko summoned a rickshaw. The hour of the dragon had already yielded to the hour of the snake. She no longer had time to proceed on foot.

    Kawakami Eichi, Great Lord of Hino, Presiding Inspector of the Office of Shogunate Internal Regulations, awaited his visitor’s entry into the cottage. He cloaked himself with the weighty dignity appropriate to his importance and his titles.
    Which evaporated as soon as the door slid open.