This was what she loved most about him: the way he cared more for others than for himself. He defended peasants against bullying samurai, though his comrades mocked his compassion. He worked long hours in the watchtower and the harbor patrol, and studied martial arts and the Dutch language, not for personal advancement but to bring honor to his father, Deshima Chief Ohira; his patron, Governor Nagai; and his teacher, Interpreter Iishino. He could lose his position for neglecting his duties to receive a forbidden visitor now. But his first concern was her safety. Couldn’t her father see that his kind consideration had more value than wealth? And couldn’t Chief Ohira see that she would be a more loyal, devoted wife to Kiyoshi than any highborn samurai woman?

Together they climbed the stairs to the small, square room at the top of the tower. Beneath the window lay Kiyoshi’s spyglass, his folded cloak and wicker hat, an oil lamp, and the Dutch dictionary he studied during his lonely shift. Suddenly shy in his presence, Junko walked to the window. City and sea glowed with the warm, diffuse radiance of late afternoon. Then a drifting cloud mass obscured the sun, rendering the landscape cold and colorless. Junko sensed a difference, a remoteness about Kiyoshi, who showed none of his usual eagerness to share his thoughts and experiences with her. Junko turned to him, anxious to reestablish their connection.

“Kiyoshi,” she began hesitantly.

“What?” His brief smile didn’t brighten his somber face. Now he looked away and said, “You can’t stay long, Junko. The lieutenant will be coming by on his rounds soon. We’ll both get in trouble if he finds you here.”

For the first time, Junko felt insecure in Kiyoshi’s love. Had absence weakened his affection for her? “What’s wrong?” she asked, a tremor of fear playing along her spine. She reached for Kiyoshi, then dropped her outstretched hand. She didn’t want to lose her dignity by pleading or clinging, so she sought another way to reassure herself that he still cared. She remembered what she’d come to tell him.

“The shōgun’s sōsakan talked to my father,” she said. “He’s interested in the mysterious lights. If we’re to catch them before he does, we must hurry. Have you learned anything yet?”

At first Kiyoshi didn’t speak. Then, still without looking at her, he said reluctantly, “I know what the lights are.”

Joy burst like a bright fountain in Junko, washing away her doubts. “You mean you’ve seen the ghost? Oh, Kiyoshi, all our problems will be solved!” Gleefully she clapped her hands. Then, to her dismay, she saw sadness and pity in the gaze Kiyoshi turned on her. “What is it?”