Two dōshin brought Ginjiro to the sand. The brewer walked with his head hung low and his arms and legs bound tightly by elaborately knotted ropes. Ginjiro’s stained kimono bore a filthy witness to his time in prison.
When they reached the shirazu, the guards took hold of Ginjiro’s arms and lowered the brewer to his knees in the sand.
Ginjiro bowed his head before the magistrate.
“I will read the charge.” The yoriki’s voice rang out across the yard. “This man, Ginjiro, murdered a fellow brewer during an argument over a debt.”
“How do you answer the charge?” the magistrate asked.
Ginjiro raised his head. “I am not guilty.”
“Not guilty?” Magistrate Ishimaki looked surprised.
“That is correct,” Ginjiro said. “I did not kill Chikao.”
The magistrate’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. “Can you prove this?”
Hiro stepped forward. “I can prove it.”
The magistrate’s eyes widened. “Matsui Hiro? You are the man investigating the crime?”
Magistrate Ishimaki looked out at the crowd, but didn’t seem to find the face he sought. His gaze returned to Hiro. “The yoriki mentioned seeing you at the murder scene. I should have guessed that you were the one Ginjiro’s family asked for help.”
Hiro bowed. “Yes, Ishimaki-san.”
The magistrate leaned forward. “Tell me what you learned.”
“I object!” Kaoru pushed his way through the crowd. Ren followed close behind him.
Kaoru pointed at Ginjiro. “That man killed my father. This … ronin … wants to interfere.”
“On the contrary,” Hiro said, “I wish to see the murderer brought to justice.”
Magistrate Ishimaki shifted his gaze from Hiro to Kaoru as if weighing each man’s words. At last he said, “Matsui-san will speak.” He looked at Kaoru and added, “You may speak when Matsui-san has finished. I wish to hear all the facts before I render a decision.”
“May I request a favor?” Hiro asked.
Magistrate Ishimaki frowned. “Do not test my patience. I have granted you a significant favor by allowing you to speak in this man’s defense.”
“Yes, and I am grateful,” Hiro said. “However, I hoped you would order the dōshin to lock the gates until you render final judgment. The real killer is here, inside the compound, as we speak. I would hate to see that person slip away.”
Magistrate Ishimaki nodded to the yoriki. “Secure the gates. No one leaves until this matter is resolved.”
Hiro waited until the massive wooden gates swung closed with a thump and a rattle.
“You will now reveal the killer,” the magistrate said. “But I warn you, falsehoods will result in your sharing the killer’s fate.”
“I beg the magistrate’s indulgence,” Hiro said. “I cannot merely state a name. Unless I explain what happened on the night Chikao died, the killer will deny the crime. Ginjiro’s innocence will not be proven.”
“It’s a trick,” Kaoru said. “He’s stalling for time.”
“Silence!” Magistrate Ishimaki glared at Kaoru. “I will decide what is or is not a trick.”
He looked at Hiro. “Proceed with your tale.”
“Ginjiro owns a brewery in the commercial ward,” the shinobi said, “a fine one, with fifty feet of frontage on a trafficked road. Chikao, with his partner Ren, owned a tiny, unlicensed brewery in an unnamed alley south of Pontocho. The only fortunate thing about the Lucky Monkey brewery is its name.”
“What does that matter?” Kaoru demanded.
Hiro ignored him. “Chikao made offers to purchase Ginjiro’s brewery, but Ginjiro would not sell at any price. At first, I wondered why Chikao would need Ginjiro’s shop, and not another. Ginjiro said he’d help the Lucky Monkey’s owners join the brewers’ guild, and the guilds assist their members when it comes to finding better space.
“The problem was, the brewers’ za would not admit a man whose son ran up a debt and did not pay. Not unless that brewer demonstrated some substantial change that would allow him to prevent his son from causing future problems.”
Ginjiro’s eyes widened. “Like buying a better brewery and marrying that son to a woman with the skills to run the business herself.”
“Exactly,” Hiro said. “But Chikao ran into problems. He couldn’t get a loan to pay the debt. Then, the man who owned the brewery Chikao wanted wouldn’t sell and wouldn’t consider allowing his daughter to marry Chikao’s son. In fact, that man—Ginjiro—wanted only to discuss the payment of the debt that Kaoru owed.”
Kaoru scowled but did not deny the words.
“A series of arguments ensued, with threats exchanged,” Hiro said. “On the night of the murder, they argued again, and Ginjiro swore to collect on Kaoru’s debt at any cost.”
The magistrate asked Ginjiro, “Is this true?”
The brewer looked at the sand beneath his knees. “I made some threats, but I didn’t mean them. Not the way they sounded.”
“Liar,” Kaoru said. “You threatened to kill my father, and then you did it.”
Ginjiro tried to look at Kaoru but his bonds prevented him from turning all the way around.
Magistrate Ishimaki frowned. “So far, your tale does not exonerate this man.”
“Please indulge me by listening all the way to the end,” Hiro said. “After that final argument, Kaoru abandoned his father to go drinking in Pontocho. Chikao started back to his brewery for the night. On the way, Chikao ran into a debt collector seeking payment for another of Kaoru’s debts.”
Hiro turned to the crowd. “That debt collector is here. She can confirm this.”
He wondered whether Yoshiko would come forward without a fight. A moment later, he noticed movement in the crowd. The commoners cleared a path as Yoshiko approached the shirazu. She stopped behind the pit of sand and bowed to the magistrate.
“I am Akechi Yoshiko, the debt collector of whom Hiro speaks.”
“You will confirm that you spoke with Chikao on the night he died?” the magistrate asked.
Yoshiko nodded. “I tried to persuade him to pay the debt that Kaoru owed my teahouse.”
“Did he agree?” Magistrate Ishimaki leaned forward, curious.
“He did not.” Yoshiko glanced at Kaoru. “He refused and walked away.”
“But not before you struck him a blow in anger,” Hiro said. “You bruised his eye.”
Yoshiko rested her hand on the hilt of her katana. “You are wrong, Matsui-san. It’s true I struck Chikao in the eye, but I hit him in self-defense.”