“We’ll test the blades from swordsmith Ibe,” Miochin told the peasants, who had to be his sons. “I shall perform ryōkuruma and o kessa.” The most difficult cuts of all: across the corpse’s hips, and through the shoulder girdle. “You will use the arms and legs for lesser blades.”

The thieves stirred nervously. “I think someone followed us,” one said. “Hurry up and pay us, so we can get out of here.”

Miochin gave a string of coins to the thieves. Outside, Sano and Hirata drew their swords, then burst into the room.

“Tokugawa Special Police Force. You’re all under arrest!” Sano cried.

Amid exclamations of dismayed surprise, the thieves unsheathed their swords; Miochin and sons grabbed weapons off the wall. Aware that the penalty for theft and murder was death, the criminals advanced on Sano and Hirata, blades drawn, faces taut with desperation.

“The building is surrounded,” Sano said. “Drop your weapons and surrender.”

Miochin laughed. “When oxen fly and snakes talk!” he jeered. “You shan’t execute me for trying to earn my rice!”

The criminals assaulted Sano and Hirata, who fought back, blades flashing. The detective corps, hearing the commotion, stormed into the room. Sano battled Miochin. The sword tester’s blade lashed the air like a whirlwind. Gradually he drove Sano backward, into the courtyard. Sano returned cut for cut while he skirted a mound of sand upon which bodies would be tied to bamboo stakes for the testing of swords. He stumbled over a pile of charred bones and turned a backward somersault over a stone furnace where Miochin evidently destroyed the remains of his ill-gotten corpses. Landing on his feet, Sano lunged at Miochin. In the streaming downpour they clashed in mortal combat. The sword tester was fighting for his life and liberty. In a way, so was Sano.

Now he entered a plane where the corrupt regime that held him captive disappeared. He forgot the shōgun; he forgot Aoi, and his self-imposed loneliness. He spared a last, worried thought for his men, who expertly battled the thieves and Miochin’s sons. Their shouts and movements soon faded from his consciousness. All that mattered was his victory over this evil criminal.

A heady euphoria heightened Sano’s perception. Quickly he saw that Miochin’s strength lay in his feint and recovery. He lowered his sword, apparently intending a cut across Sano’s stomach. Then his blade suddenly changed direction. Sano parried the sword tester’s diagonal chest slice almost too late. His counterstrike slashed Miochin’s thigh. Miochin gasped in pain, but didn’t falter. Then Sano took a risk he would have once instructed his students to avoid.

When Miochin hoisted his sword in both hands for a deadly vertical slash, Sano gambled that this was another feint. Resisting the instinctive urge to raise his weapon and shield his torso, he lowered and swung his blade.