Milton emerged from the station and followed the same route as before, eventually reaching Hachirō’s restaurant. He pushed the door open. It was just after eleven and the place was as quiet as Milton had expected, with just a single couple sitting at the counter, settling up their bill. Hachirō saw Milton, frowned, and then—perhaps realising that the expression on his face did not portend good news—he hurried the customers out and flipped over the sign on the door. He closed it and turned the key in the lock.

“What is it?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Milton said. He tried to go on, but found that his mouth was dry.

The blood drained from Hachirō’s face. “Tell me.”

113

Fumio stayed at the edge of the room as Katsuro led Sakura to the elevator. Takashi went to his swords and took down Yoshida Shōin’s tantō. He held it in his right hand, marvelling at the perfect balance, the craftsmanship that was necessary to create something as perfect as this.

“What is it, Fumio? You don’t agree?”

“I’m sorry, Takashi, but no—I don’t.”

“Why? No—let me guess. My brother.”

“I understand your anger for what she has done.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, Takashi. I share it.”

“I doubt that,” he muttered.

“But you know what will happen to her in a place like that. Wakasa is an animal. She will be defiled.”

“It is no more than she deserves. What she was doing with Katsuro and the premans? I didn’t hear you disapproving then.”

“I did disapprove. You know that I have never agreed with the drugs. The ninkyodo is clear—dealing drugs is not our way.”

“And yet you’ve been happy to take the money that it makes.”

“And perhaps I was wrong to do that. I reconciled myself to Sakura’s role as a mule because of your promise—that, once she had completed the task, she and the boy would be free. This, though? She has made mistakes, but the blame lies with the gaijin and, with respect, Oyabun, with Katsuro. The punishment for her behaviour is too harsh. She is your niece. Hachirō’s daughter.”

Takashi snorted. “I haven’t spoken to Hachirō for twenty years. You think I owe him anything? I don’t. Not a thing. He never approved of Miyasato. You remember what he was like—when they told us they wanted to marry? He always looked down at my boys, both of them, from when they were children. You know him. You know what he is like. His attitude, always looking down at me, always disapproving.”

“I agree, Takashi. He is. But this? Condemning his daughter to a life with Wakasa? It is too much.”

“Perhaps it is time he should know what it is like to lose a child.”

“There are other ways to show him that. I beg you, Oyabun. Be merciful.”