Jimmu had little experience with females. When the other guards discussed women, Jimmu felt embarrassed and ignorant. He did not understand the jokes they made about the maidservants in the castle, and the peasant women in the outlying farms.

“Keep all your dealings with the opposite sex as brief as possible,” was the only advice on the subject that Nichiren had ever offered. “Too much female company turns a man soft.”

Jimmu did not stop to reflect why he asked himself so many questions about Takeko, or why he had recurring dreams about her. He was not yet aware of how far their encounter had disturbed him. Lady Takeko—or Jimmu’s idea of Lady Takeko—began to fascinate him.

Jimmu settled into his new life. He kept himself to himself, only spoke when he was spoken to, and got to know his fellow guards by watching and listening.

Jimmu was the newcomer, and so became the butt of practical jokes. He was expecting this, since Nichiren had told him what life in a barracks was like. The most important thing was not to overreact: if he lost his temper and made a fuss, it would only encourage the jokers to play more tricks. So he did not complain if he was sent on a false errand. When his sleeping mat was stolen, he rested on the bare floorboards; when cockroaches were sneaked into his mess bowl, he removed them and carried on eating. Before long, the pranks started to tail off. At heart, the guards were a decent enough bunch—with two notable exceptions: Hisashi and Sadamichi.

Hisashi was a musketeer of medium height. His nose veered over toward the right side of his face; his two front teeth were long and yellow, like a rat’s. He was a coarse man who ate noisily, cursed foully, and told crude jokes. He thought it was funny to break wind loudly, especially at night.

One evening, Hisashi entered the mess for supper and sat across the way from Jimmu. Hisashi sniffed at the rice and vegetables in his bowl and grinned.

“This is the life!” he said to Jimmu.

Jimmu did not respond.

Hisashi raised his voice. “This is the life!”

“If you say so,” murmured Jimmu.

“I do say so, and I’ll tell you why,” Hisashi said. “This time last year I was busting my back working on a farm, up to my neck in pig muck, or in a paddy field up to my knees in muddy water. I used to wake before dawn and go to bed at sunset. My life was nothing but grief, see? But it all changed the day I learned how to fire a gun. Now I eat better, sleep better, and earn better money. And it’s all thanks to Saya.”

“Saya?” Jimmu said uncertainly.

“My gun,” explained Hisashi. “I named her after my dead wife. D’you know what the best thing about Saya is?”

“What?” Jimmu said.

“She makes me as good as any fancy samurai!” declared Hisashi. “He can wear expensive armor, and come charging at me on a thoroughbred horse, but I can send him to join his ancestors before he gets anywhere near me.”