Suke’s face lit up in a gleeful smile. “Cats do like sake!”
Gato continued licking at the spot.
Hiro didn’t know what the spot contained, and didn’t want to. He grabbed the cat, who flailed her paws in a vain attempt to return to the monk’s kimono.
“I apologize for her lack of manners.” Hiro tucked the cat to his chest and stroked her fur. After a moment, Gato ceased her struggling and relaxed in the crook of his arm. A rumbling purr rose up in her throat.
Suke leaned forward. “Does it like your rubbing its fur that way?”
Hiro looked at Gato, aware of how unusual his interaction with the cat appeared to others’ eyes. Most Japanese people thought of cats as useful vermin hunters but developed no attachment to the beasts. Until he rescued Gato, a little over a year before, Hiro had never known a cat and had no real desire to bring one home.
In the intervening months, his opinion changed.
He ran a hand over Gato’s back, enjoying the feel of her fur beneath his fingers. “She seems to like it.”
Gato’s purr crescendoed.
Suke raised a gnarled hand. “Can other people touch it? Does it bite?”
Hiro glanced at Gato. “She does bite, sometimes, mostly just in fun.”
Suke touched the cat with the tips of his fingers. A smile crept over his face as he stroked her neck and back with a gentle touch. “It has hair like a baby, soft and warm.”
Hiro wondered how Suke knew the feel of an infant’s hair. He realized how little he really knew about the monk.
Unraveling that mystery would have to wait for another day.
“I have a plan to help Ginjiro,” Hiro said.
“Why didn’t you say so?” Suke straightened and laid his hands in his lap. “How are we going to free him?”
Hiro resisted the urge to dismiss the question. Suke needed to feel useful, if only to prevent him from unwanted interference.
When Hiro didn’t answer right away, the monk stood up and said, “We should go at once.”
Hiro thought quickly. “We can’t be seen together. You were right—there’s too much risk.”
Suke leaned forward conspiriatorially. “Give me a job. I can handle it.”
Hiro stood up. “All right. I need you to watch a suspect.”
Suke’s grin told Hiro the monk had fallen for the plan.
“Go back to Ginjiro’s,” Hiro said, “and look for Akechi Yoshiko.”
“You want me to watch a kitsune?” Suke drew back, aghast. “What if she leads me into the mountains and traps me there forever?”
“Yoshiko is not a fox spirit,” Hiro said, “though, if she were, I would think a man of your wisdom could outwit her easily.”
Concern warred with pride on Suke’s face. At last he said, “I am a dangerous man.”
“To foxes as well as to humans, I am certain,” Hiro said. “Tomiko hired Yoshiko to guard the brewery tonight.”
“Do you think a kitsune might have killed Chikao?” Suke asked.
“Foxes don’t strike men on the head with sake flasks,” the shinobi said. “Still, I think it wise to use discretion. Akechi-san should not suspect you’re watching.”
Suke nodded. “I will be as secretive as a shinobi!” He furrowed his brow. “I’ll need a disguise.”
“Pretend to be drunk and sleeping in a corner,” Hiro said.
Suke frowned. “That’s not a disguise. I do that all the time.” He paused. A smile crept over his face. “But this time, I’ll be faking! Hiro-san, that might just work!”
The monk had all the subtlety of a swarm of bees in a bathhouse.
Hiro hoped someone would buy Suke enough sake to make the monk forget his assignment altogether. Unfortunately, Hiro couldn’t give Suke any more money—the monk didn’t usually have any coins, and Hiro had already given him money recently. Someone might notice and ask Suke where he obtained the silver. Hiro didn’t trust the monk to remember his assignment was a secret.
Still, he felt fairly certain that someone would offer the monk a drink.
Hiro escorted Suke across the veranda and through the garden. He didn’t want to disturb the prayer meeting a second time.
When they reached the street, the monk took off for Ginjiro’s at a surprisingly rapid pace, as if determined to reach the sake shop in time to beg a drink before the generous patrons left.
After Suke disappeared, Hiro returned to his room to prepare for his own clandestine mission. He changed from his gray kimono into a pair of dark hakama and a dark blue surcoat that blended with the shadows. As he dressed, he grew aware that the sounds of prayer had ceased again. He paused and listened but heard no voices in the common room.
Father Mateo must have concluded the worship service earlier than usual.
Hiro finished tying his obi and went to the door that separated his room from the common room beyond. He slid the shoji open and looked out.
Father Mateo knelt by the hearth, alone, eating his dinner off a lacquered tray.
Hiro joined the priest at the hearth. “I apologize if Suke ruined your meeting.”
The Jesuit smiled. “He caused a stir but did no damage. I needed to end the service early anyway. Some of my converts walk a long way to get here. I didn’t want them leaving late, with so many guards in the streets.”
Hiro nodded. An arrogant samurai wouldn’t hesitate to harass a prostitute, or any other commoner, for that matter.
The front door banged. Heavy footsteps thumped in the entry.
Hiro faced the entrance without alarm. Only Luis Álvares sounded so much like a drunken bear.
Luis stormed into the common room, cheeks red and shoulders heaving. Without a word, he crossed to the hearth and thumped himself down in the seat reserved for the master of the house. As usual, Hiro found the merchant’s choice offensive. Father Mateo claimed he didn’t care, but the shinobi hated seeing Luis in the Jesuit’s rightful place.
After crossing his legs in an awkward manner, Luis declared, “I’ve sent a message to the Miyoshi daimyo, telling him that a merchant in Fukuda will take over the sale from here. I believe that should resolve the shogun’s issue.” He turned his face toward the kitchen and shouted, “Ana!”
Luis leaned forward and peered at Father Mateo’s dinner tray. “No meat tonight? How do these people survive on rice and mush?”
Hiro raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Teaching Luis to appreciate Japanese customs was like capturing wind in a bucket, and Hiro didn’t waste his precious time on futile acts.