His companion, a short, paunchy man, ushered the porters and baggage inside. Before following, Hirata eyed the house critically. What he saw didn’t improve the dark mood that had befallen him when Sano cut him out of the investigation.

The two-story house had freshly whitewashed half-timbered walls, a neat thatched roof, and a latticed balcony. Built like a rich merchant’s dwelling rather than a fortified samurai residence, it was a security officer’s nightmare. There were no enclosing barracks. Intruders could easily climb the stone wall—or drop into the yard from the roofs of adjacent houses—then snap the flimsy wooden bars off the windows and enter the house. Guarded gates at either end of the street wouldn’t keep out a determined evildoer. How was Hirata supposed to protect a master who spurned protection?

Gloomily he strode up the flagstone path beneath an arbor of flowering vines. The front door opened, discharging a horde of servants. “Greetings, new master,” they cried, hurrying to take in the baggage.

Hirata shook his head as he entered the house, shadowed by the guards. Remembering the attacks on Sano, he deplored the abundance of strangers in the house. Undoubtedly Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s influence covered Nagasaki as well as Edo. Inside, Hirata discovered more problems. In the kitchen, servants unpacked rice bales, vegetables, sake barrels, and fish. His stomach growled hungrily. But in the living quarters, where landscape murals decorated walls and clean tatami covered the floors, numerous windows afforded too many access points. Flimsy paper-paned lattice partitions divided rooms and corridors. In the reception hall, doors led to a garden full of shrubs, trees, and plenty of other places for an assassin to hide.

“Master, would you like a meal?” a servant asked.

Hirata started to say yes, then hesitated.

He’d been born into the police service, inheriting his father’s job as a dōshin—patrol officer—at age fifteen. He’d captured criminals and maintained order in one of Nihonbashi’s roughest sectors. When assigned to help with the Bundori murder investigation, he’d won a permanent post as Sano’s chief retainer by demonstrating his competence and loyalty. Ecstatic over leaving a corrupt police force, he thought he’d gained his heart’s desire: a master whose character he could respect.

A year later, reality had set in. Bushido dictated that he provide Sano with protection, assistance, and counsel until his own death, which would ideally occur during battle at his master’s side. But Sano refused Hirata’s service when he needed it most, often leaving Hirata at home during crucial stages of murder cases, spying assignments, and the shōgun’s ghost hunts. Now he’d done the same thing again!