CHAPTER 57

Tokyo, Japan

The play began with dancers moving from the back of the theater. They streamed, on both sides of the audience, across a walkway called a flower path. It allowed for a majestic entrance, showing off the actors’ beautifully tailored, colorful, and flowing costumes. But, at this point, it was all about individual showmanship rather than content. As they merged, onstage, the two dozen dancers celebrated Henry Schnell and his new rank as the head military instructor for the Military Commissioner of Kyoto. Because Schnell was a foreigner, the new title and rank of samurai came with the right to choose a Japanese name, marry a Japanese woman, and carry a sword. One of the samurai in attendance, standing on the periphery, was visibly displeased at the foreigner’s elevation.

The second part of the act featured the 9th daimyo of the Aizu Domain, awarding Hiramatsu Buhei his swords and his eldest daughter’s hand in marriage. During this part of the play, Jonathan Preston, playing the white samurai, wore a stunning golden kimono with a wig tied in a topknot. His heavy makeup hid his European features. He gestured his thanks to the gathered crowd and new boss. He bowed a lot and spoke no words, to show his humility.

The second act was more dancing, singing, and combat sword tactics that Buhei, now a master swordsman, taught to a group of new recruits. The few words that Preston uttered during this part of the play were either hai, meaning yes, or bango, meaning no, and an occasional suiryoku for thrust, and surasshu for slash. Clad in his dark blue kimono and brown pants with his swords thrust through the left side of a heavy black belt wrapped around his waist, Preston was still unrecognizable in his heavy makeup as he grunted instructions and rebukes.

After the second act, there was a forty-five-minute intermission. Most of the first- and second-level audience flooded the tea rooms. The third level was reserved for exclusive clientele. So, Tsukuda stayed in his private box with his bodyguards. One guard pulled a bottle of Tsukuda’s favorite sake from a small leather bag and poured a drink. Midway through the intermission, one of the theater troupe members came to Tsukuda’s private box and presented him with a gift. It was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 Tennessee Whiskey, courtesy of the troupe’s white samurai actor. Tsukuda thought that the bottle had been misdirected until he read a handwritten note that read, I’m looking forward to meeting you later tonight.

Now Tsukuda was confused. No one knew that he was coming here tonight. He had kept it a secret from his staff and bodyguards until the last minute. A faint thought crept into the back of his mind. It was his grandmother, saying, Beware of the white samurai, Uchito. He shook his head to clear the thought and had his bodyguard open the bottle. Tsukuda asked his bodyguard to taste it to see if it was as mild as he had heard. The bodyguard nodded his approval, and Tsukuda asked for a glass.

After waiting several minutes to see if his bodyguard dropped dead from the whiskey being poisoned, Tsukuda finally put the glass to his lips and tasted the famous American whiskey. “Sumuzu,” Tsukuda uttered, which meant smooth. The third act began with more dancing and singing and more fabulous costumes. When the white samurai stepped on stage, the audience applauded. Preston bowed to the audience, raised his hand in the direction of Tsukuda’s third-level box seat, and saluted—in military fashion—to the general.

Tsukuda saluted back, thinking that the actor was an officer who used to work for him on the general staff. There had been several who had an acting background. So, Tsukuda was beginning to think that a former officer under his command was playing the white samurai and had provided the bottle of whiskey and the salute of recognition. However, he was distracted from the thought by one of his bodyguards from outside the theater, who entered and whispered something in his ear.

“Are you certain they are the communists?” Tsukuda asked.

“No, General. But they are watching our every move. I believe they may make an attempt on your life. So to keep you safe, we should get you back to the castle,” the bodyguard stated.

“I will not be intimidated. You have ten heavily armed men. Just run them off. But absolutely no gunplay. The prime minister and most of his cabinet, and several royal family members are in attendance. It would panic the crowd, ruin the play, and tarnish my reputation.”

The first scene of the third act started with more singing and dancing, celebrating the birth of the white samurai’s first son. The second scene was followed by a dramatic scene between the daimyo of the Aizu Domain, the white samurai, and the samurai and famous swordsman Miyamoto Bennosuke. Bennosuke was trying to negotiate the marriage of his eldest daughter to be the white samurai’s second wife.

Hiramatsu Buhei explained that this was a great honor. Still, his Christian religion forbade him from having more than one wife. Bennosuke thought Buhei was lying—because Bennosuke’s daughter was not very attractive. Any samurai would be thrilled to have his daughter as a wife and the famous swordsman as a father-in-law. The more he argued his point, the angrier he became. It was as if Buhei had touched Bennosuke’s sword and his dignity, which would be interpreted as an act of unpardonable rudeness. In the end, not wanting to insult the daimyo of the Aizu Domain, he bowed and walked away, vowing that he would have his revenge for the snub. He would demand satisfaction and would challenge the arrogant white samurai to a duel.

The third scene of the third act began with Hiramatsu Buhei’s wife and her household attendants sobbing and crying over the challenge to the death, issued by Miyamoto Bennosuke. Buhei’s wife argued that she wouldn’t mind if he were to take a second wife. However, she was distraught, knowing that if Buhei died, she and her son would be left impoverished. Eventually, Bennosuke would end up killing the child to end her husband’s lineage.

The final scene of the third act started on the field where Buhei was training his soldiers. He was dressed in his brown pants and a white shirt and carried his two swords. Buhei’s daimyo, Matsudaira Katamori, told him that Bennosuke took pleasure in killing. He attributed it to the man’s flawed character rather than the Muramasa katana that he carried. Buhei knew better than to believe in a demon-possessed sword. Only people were possessed by demons, mainly by those they created themselves. However, Katamori told Buhei that Bennosuke loved to duel and had killed over forty men. If anything, he had an uncontrollable desire to kill others. Therefore, Bennosuke’s demon was bloodlust.

Before Buhei took the field, Katamori offered him his Masamune sword. Buhei recalled the legend that the only sword that could defeat a Muramasa katana was a Masamune. Katamori mentioned that Bennosuke was very superstitious. Although he knew Buhei probably did not believe in the legend, he was confident that Bennosuke did. Katamori said it would likely create enough doubt in Bennosuke’s mind to give Buhei an edge.

Following Japanese custom, Buhei and Bennosuke exchanged names and unsheathed their katanas. Bennosuke was a tall, muscular man with a neatly trimmed beard and piercing eyes as cold as a winter’s wind. Bennosuke charged forward and immediately went for a strike at Buhei’s neck. The left-handed Buhei parried and, with lightning speed, blocked the sword. Buhei then spun clockwise to Bennosuke’s open side. His katana struck Bennosuke on his right shoulder, drawing blood.

George, who was playing Bennosuke, swore that he would decapitate Buhei. Now enraged, Bennosuke charged with a sweeping uppercut, intending to catch Buhei in the throat. Buhei dodged the blow and swung his sword in an overhand, sideways motion at Bennosuke’s neck. Buhei thought he had missed. But as he turned and crouched for another parry, he noticed blood gushing from a small cut on Bennosuke’s neck. When George turned away from the audience, he pushed several times on a bag of fake blood, which pumped blood from a hidden bag and tube just below his high-necked shirt. When he turned around, the audience gasped. The single stroke from the extremely sharp Masamune katana had barely touched Bennosuke but had ended up cutting his carotid artery.

The cut went unnoticed by Bennosuke, and he prepared to parry again. However, when Bennosuke crouched to begin another charge, he noticed a large amount of blood on his sleeve and the front of his shirt. While staring—without expression or understanding—he began to falter. Then Bennosuke fell to the ground, which was now bathed in his own blood. Buhei stood over the dying swordsman, wiped the blood-stained Masamune on his shirt in the coolest manner imaginable, and returned it to its sheath. The audience erupted in cheers and applause. The applause continued as the lights were dimmed and the actors left the stage. Even Tsukuda was standing and cheering the performance.

Within a minute, the lights came up. The master of ceremony stepped from behind the curtain to thank the audience and introduce the actors. As the curtain came up, all but one actor stood on the stage, in a long row. The last actor introduced was the white samurai. As he moved out of the shadows, the audience gasped. He had removed his makeup. The actor was indeed a white person. As the MC called out his name—Jonathan Preston of the United States—Tsukuda moved toward the door of his private box. As he realized who had been playing the white samurai, Tsukuda nearly tripped over one of the plush seats.

“Get me out of here, immediately,” Tsukuda ordered. “To the castle at once. And radio ahead and alert the guards to an imminent attack.”

“What about the communist gang? Should we take care of them first?” the guard asked.

“Absolutely not. We must not start a war in front of the prime minister and his cabinet. It would be unforgivable of me.”