Then he turned to Hirata. One wordless glance mended the rift between them, cementing their bond. Sano realized how much he needed Hirata, and that he couldn’t—and shouldn’t—deny a fellow samurai the right to serve honor. Hirata’s evidence had strengthened the case against their accusers, but it was his loyalty that had ultimately swayed Supreme Judge Takeda. To spurn such friendship might mean avoiding future pain, but also doomed Sano to constant loneliness, to losing battles he couldn’t win alone. Then and there, Sano accepted Hirata as his true companion, in glory or disaster, honor or disgrace. This was the Way of the Warrior: absolute, eternal.

The tearful brightness of Hirata’s eyes communicated his joy and understanding. He seemed radiant with an inner light, as if the outcome of the trial and Supreme Judge Takeda’s praise of his loyalty had somehow validated his worth and brought him peace. Solemnly they bowed in mutual respect.

“This is an abuse of the law,” Judge Segawa protested.

“Chamberlain Yanagisawa will not approve,” Judge Dazai added.

As both men argued in favor of the original verdict and sentence, Sano guessed with a sinking heart that he and Hirata weren’t safe yet.

“Honorable colleagues, do not forget that I command this tribunal,” Supreme Judge Takeda said. “Your objections are duly noted, and dismissed.”

Sano knew, however, that Takeda hadn’t achieved his status by being gullible or ignoring the political realities of life in the bakufu, as his next words proved: “Sōsakan Sano, I shall personally oversee your dealings with the informant Chief Ohira, and accompany you to the smugglers’ rendezvous. If you succeed in producing the criminals, the charges will be dropped.”

“If you fail, the death sentence will be enforced—and extended to include not only both your entire families, but all your close associates as well. Keep this in mind while we carry out your scheme, Sōsakan Sano.”

33

三三

Midnight. From a high bluff beyond the edge of town, Sano looked down at Nagasaki. Darkness covered the city like a quilt upon a restless sleeper. The moon, a translucent white bubble caught in a net of cloud, illuminated warships, barges, and the Dutch vessel in the harbor. Torch flames streaked the waterfront and streets, where troops continued to patrol. Bonfires burned at clifftop fortresses. The war drums beat with increasing urgency. A palpable menace vibrated the warm night, deepening Sano’s unease as he turned away from the view and faced his companions.

In a sheltering circle of pines, Hirata squatted motionless, alert for any approaching sound. Supreme Judge Takeda sat on a rock, arms folded, his face in shadow beneath his hat. Judges Segawa and Dazai huddled together, exuding impatience and disapproval.

“We’ve waited at least two hours, and still your informant has not arrived,” Segawa complained. “You may as well give up, Sōsakan Sano.”