Chapter 23

Wind rustled the cedars. The hazy sunlight filtering through the trees faded away as a thicker cloud passed overhead.

“You should respect the mountain spirits,” Zentaro said. “Do not leave the village after dark, and do not fail to honor the kami as they deserve.”

“Does murdering a woman in the burial yard dishonor the mountain spirits?” Hiro asked.

Zentaro’s eyes took on the light of a zealot once again. “The vengeance of the kami is not murder.”

“Did Inari kill Ishiko-san?” The Jesuit asked.

Zentaro’s mouth dropped open. He looked around, hands raised as if to ward off an attack. “Great Inari,” he called to the treetops, “forgive the foreigner. He does not understand.”

Lowering his face to the priest, and his voice to a hissing whisper, the yamabushi added, “Do not say such things. You do not know the risk you take.”

“Did Ishiko-san take similar risks?” Hiro asked.

“She did not heed the warning—” Zentaro raised his face toward the mountain’s peak, as if listening to voices only he could hear.

He turned back to Hiro. “The mountain calls me. I must go.”

“If we need to find you again—” Father Mateo began.

Zentaro raised a hand to the trees. “Tell the mountain and I will know.”

He retreated up the hill as recklessly as he had descended, leaping from stone to stone with a speed and agility Hiro would not have believed if he had not seen it.

“Are all yamabushi so. . .eccentric?” Father Mateo asked.

“A diet of bark and wild mushrooms would make any man a little strange,” Akako said.

“And attract only those who were odd to begin with,” Hiro added.

The Jesuit continued looking at the place where Zentaro disappeared into the mist. “Could he have killed Ishiko-san?”

“I care less for whether or not he could,” Hiro replied, “than for whether or not he did.”

“Why do you find it so hard to believe that a yūrei killed her?” Akako asked.

“As we mentioned—” Hiro began.

Father Mateo finished for him. “We do not believe in ghosts.”

“But you are a priest,” Akako protested.

The Jesuit drew a breath, but once again appeared to change his mind before he spoke. “God is not the same as ghosts. A man can believe in one and not the other.”

Akako turned to Hiro. “But you are Japanese.”

“A fact that creates no philosophical obligations.”

Another gust of wind blew down the hill. Overhead, the cedars creaked in ghostly chorus.

“We may as well return to the ryokan,” Hiro said. “There’s nothing more to learn here at this time.”

As Hiro opened the guest room door, Gato jumped off the low wooden table and greeted him with a plaintive mew. She trotted to the sliding door on the opposite side of the room, looked back at him over her shoulder, and meowed again, more urgently.

As Father Mateo and Akako knelt on the tatami, Hiro crossed the room and opened the outer door. A swirl of frigid air blew in as Gato slipped through the opening and leaped to the ground.

“It won’t get lost?” Akako asked as he knelt on the tatami.

“She won’t go far,” Hiro said. “She hates the cold.”

As if to prove his point, Gato suddenly darted back into the room and leaped into Father Mateo’s lap. The Jesuit made a startled noise and raised his hands.

Gato circled once, lay down, and licked the priest’s kimono.

“Hiro. . .” Father Mateo gave the cat a pointed look, his hands still raised to avoid making contact with her fur.

The shinobi smiled and started to close the door, but stopped, smile fading, as he noticed movement on the travel road.

A muscular figure crested the hill, his features blurred by the afternoon haze.

“Does your son wear a brown kimono?” Hiro asked.

Instead of answering, Akako stood and approached the door. He leaned past Hiro and peered through the opening. “That is Chitose.” He leaned to the side as if seeking a better view. “But where is the priest?”

As they watched the road, Noboru emerged from the teahouse and met Chitose. The men exchanged bows and began a conversation.

Noboru crossed his arms and dipped his chin. He leaned forward, weight on the balls of his feet.

Hiro wished he could hear the conversation.

“Noboru-san looks angry,” Akako mused. “Something must have delayed the priest.”

Chitose bowed to Noboru and started up the road again, but paused when the teahouse door swung open. His shoulders raised and straightened, and he turned his head expectantly.

“Noboru-san?” Hanako’s voice carried clearly through the evening air.

The innkeeper started toward the teahouse.

Chitose’s shoulders slumped, and he continued on his way.

“Excuse me. . .” Father Mateo said pointedly.

When Hiro turned to look, the Jesuit nodded to his lap. Gato had closed her eyes and tucked her tail between her paws as if settling in for an extended nap.

“My cold is bad enough without her help.” Father Mateo sniffled, though Hiro doubted the priest intended an illustration.

Hiro slid the shoji closed and crossed the room to retrieve the Jesuit of his feline burden. Gato mewed in protest.

As he set her down, the inner door slid open.

Hiro leaped to the doorway, hand on the hilt of his wakizashi, as Noboru entered the room.

The innkeeper jumped backward, raising his hands in self-defense. “Don’t hurt me!” When Hiro did not draw his sword, Noboru lowered his hands and smoothed his kimono, “I came to tell you that the priest from Hakone Shrine did not return with Chitose-san.”

“Did no one teach you to knock before you enter?” Hiro did not hide his irritation.

Noboru made a perfunctory bow. “I apologize. I saw you watching”—he gestured to the door on the opposite side of the room—“and assumed you would want to hear the news.”

“That’s the problem with assumptions,” Hiro said. “Make enough, and eventually one will kill you.”

“Do you know what happened to the priest?” Father Mateo asked, with concern.

“He is away, on a pilgrimage, but the priestesses promised to send him as soon as he returns.” Noboru shifted his attention to Akako. “You may leave, for today.”

The porter extended an open hand.

“You expect me to pay you now?” Noboru asked.

“Have I done what I was asked to do? You are supposed to pay a silver coin each day.”

Noboru dropped a coin into Akako’s palm with a silent sigh.

The porter bowed to Hiro and Father Mateo, then to Noboru, and left the room. A moment later, they heard the front door close behind him.

“I do not trust a thief to cook my evening meal,” Noboru said, “so I have instructed Kane to prepare the food herself. Your servant will remain in her room instead.”

“I object to you calling Ana a thief,” Father Mateo replied, “but take no issue with your decision about the meal.”