He reached for his pistol just as he became aware of movement behind him. He was too slow to prevent the crushing blow that caught him just above his left ear, and he stumbled forwards, his head ringing, and fell to his knees. He put out his hands to break his fall and looked back to see Katsuro standing there. His brother had been waiting in the bathroom for them to come inside. He had a pistol in his hand and he pointed it at Miyasato’s head.

“Stay down,” he said, a spiteful leer on his lips.

“You don’t have to do this,” Miyasato said.

“Where’s my son?” Sakura said, panicking. “Where’s Yamato? What have you done with him?”

“He’s safe,” Katsuro said. “He’s with his grandfather.”

“No,” Sakura said. “No, no, no…”

“Too late for that,” Katsuro said, grinning at her. “You should have thought of that before you allowed my idiot brother to do something as stupid as steal from our father.”

“Please,” she begged. “Katsuro, please.”

“Be quiet.”

Katsuro took a step forward and booted Miyasato in the ribs.

“Where’s the tantō?” Katsuro barked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You took it. Father wants it back.”

“I would never do that,” Miyasato said, although he knew that it was hopeless.

There were footsteps at the door and Miyasato turned his head, painfully, to see two other men step inside. He recognised them: Tsukasa and Wakabayashi, both of them shatei—little brothers—foot soldiers who were loyal to Katsuro. They made their way to Sakura; Tsukasa forced her hands behind her back while Wakabayashi secured them with a cable tie.

“Leave her alone,” Miyasato said. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with it,” Katsuro said. “It’s her fault. You were never like this before you met her. You would never have thought about leaving.”

“I’ve wanted to leave for months. It’s nothing to do with her.”

Katsuro smirked again. “You can say that if you want, but I know better. It’s Sakura’s fault. She’ll pay for her actions, just as you will.”

Miyasato felt a bloom of anger that quickly became rage, and, fists clenched, he started to his feet. But before he was halfway upright, Katsuro kicked him flush on the chin. It was a hard blow; the ringing in Miyasato’s ears intensified, and darkness gathered at the edge of his vision. He fell onto his face and stared into the unblinking eyes of their nanny, at her blood smeared across the carpet, just inches away.

Katsuro knelt down and leaned in close enough to hiss into his brother’s ear, “She’s ruined you, brother, and now you’re both going to pay for what she made you do.”

I. Sunday

Part I

Sunday

1