Kondo awoke later that evening. He felt different. The steady plodding of the horse and the sway of the cart had ceased. He sensed that it had grown colder, but Mori had covered him with a blanket to keep him warm. Kondo was still sore, but he felt noticeably better. His limbs felt lighter, and his head was less hazy. He was able to sit up on his own and remove the wagon covering overhead. He was parked aside what appeared to be an inn. The horse that had carried him was gone, as he could not see it anymore.

  “He must be renting out a room and a stable,” he thought to himself.

  He gazed around. This was indeed Aoyama. He could see dozens of similarly crafted buildings separated by a small stream that flowed between them. Intermittent arching bridges crossed this stream, and there were tall, sheer cliffs in the background.

  At that moment, Mori appeared at the threshold of the small inn. “Ah, very good! You are awake. Let’s see if you have enough strength to stand and walk. Once we get you inside, you can rest there.”

  Kondo did what was asked of him and with some effort, he managed to sit on the edge of the cart and then stand. He felt guilty, for he had to use the old man for support, but with him he was able to walk. As they came inside the inn, Kondo could see that the first level was used as a kind of restaurant, a place to sit and enjoy a meal.

  “Are you hungry?” Mori asked.

  Kondo nodded, for it had indeed been some time since he had a proper meal. He was frailer than he had ever been in his life, and the thought of something warm seemed to invigorate his appetite.

  The two of them knelt at one of the low tables. That day’s offerings were roasted chicken, and cooked egg mixed with rice and soy sauce. Soup with miso was also served. It was a hearty meal, and though Kondo could not finish it all, for he grew full very easily, it was satisfying, nonetheless.

  “Thank you,” Kondo said to Mori. “For this and for everything.”

  While eating they had remained silent, but now that supper was finished, and Kondo felt more refreshed, he was eager to speak with the old man.

  “You are most welcome,” Mori answered with gentle smile.

  “Earlier,” Kondo began, “You said that you wanted to go to the Old Capital. What awaits you there?”

  Mori seemed to hesitate at this question, which struck Kondo as odd. “Ah, well you see, it’s not quite the final destination, I suppose, but I will need to gather information there, perhaps,” he stammered.

  Kondo sensed that this was a private matter, so he let it go. “I am sorry about what I said earlier. I did want to die, I hoped for it, but now I am not so sure. For the first time in a long time, I feel free.”

  Mori smiled knowingly. “That is well. A young man like yourself; you are full of opportunity. Choose a path you find honorable. I wonder, though,” and his face turned to that of concern, “How you came to be in such a dire predicament? If such a question is too near a mark, let me know. You need not dredge up any bad memories on my account, especially for my foolish curiosity. I know sword wounds all too well, but there were so many, and with such accuracy to miss your vitals…”

  Kondo waved his hand. “It is not too near the mark, and for one who saved my life, I feel obligated to tell you. I was…” but all at once he found it hard to describe. His mission had been secret after all, and Gintaro deserved at least the honor of anonymity. “I came to be involved in a duel. This was a matter between swordsmen. He bested me.”

  Mori’s face was grave. “He must have been very skilled, this warrior.”

  “He was the best I have ever seen,” answered Kondo, remembering the fierce battle of the West Bailey.

  This was followed by a protracted silence until Mori stirred. “I am quite weary,” he said with an effort. “I feel that it is time that I got my rest. I am an old man, you know, please do not begrudge me that. I rented us two rooms. Your room should be aside mine. Ask the innkeeper and he will guide you. Do you think you will be able to make it on your own?”

  Kondo nodded. “I will be fine. If I need any assistance, I’ll ask the innkeeper. He looks like a stout fellow. Again, I thank you, Mori-san. I am feeling better, so I will stay and sip my tea here for a few more minutes.”

  Mori smiled. “Very well. We have no particular reason to rush tomorrow, so let us sleep long and then depart when we are both ready.”

  With that, Mori bowed and went upstairs to where the guestrooms were located. Kondo reclined against the wall behind him. The evening had come, and the room was only sparsely lit with small candles upon each table.

  Kondo planned on reminiscing on the battle between him and Gintaro, trying to seek meaning and understanding and better himself by it, though he was defeated.

  However, he was distracted by a pair of older gentlemen that were eating a meal at a low table beside him. They had the same delicious feast that he had, though they had augmented it with several bottles of sake. One was a larger gentleman with a thick neck and lips. The other was a smaller man, with an angular face and rat-like features. Both seemed to be travelers of some sort, not quite merchants, perhaps officials or from some other privileged class. What they had said previously was no concern of Kondo’s, but one key phrase pulled him from his thoughts like a splash of icy water.

  “I still cannot believe that the Shōgun is dead.”

  At this Kondo’s eyes flashed wide and his hands gripped the wooden floor as if he were holding on for dear life.

  “What?” he breathed, doing his best to control himself. “Impossible!”

  “Aye, and what a foul time for it to happen besides,” the smaller of the gentleman agreed. “With those barbarians abroad, we need to show strength. Steady leadership.”

  “I would not worry about the barbarians,” the other, bigger man said. “Initial reports say that it went well for us up north. The battle was won, though the casualties were significant.”

  “More than significant,” the smaller man countered. “Devastating is what I hear.”

  “So, you have heard something, Fujiwara? That is quite shrewd of you.”

  “I must be shrewd,” said Fujiwara, the smaller man. “I don’t have such a grand name like yours, Mashige.”

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  The bigger man seemed to scowl at this, “Quiet down, fool. But I am only Mashige through marriage, and a very distant branch on the tree. Still, it has helped my coffers somewhat, though now I am worried that the name may be a curse on me, seeing how things are going now.”

  Kondo had managed to relax a bit and did his best to feign disinterest. He even flagged the waiter for a bottle of sake, though he had no intention of drinking it.

  “Anyway, the Shōgun’s cousin may take the job I hear,” said Mashige.

  “I heard the High Consort was in for it. She is a spirited one they say,” Fujiwara replied.

  “Either way, I need someone with the name Mashige to stay at the top, or else I might have to flee the land. You know how it goes, when someone new comes into power, they tend to kill off all the family, no matter how distant.”

  “You can just divorce your wife, or change your name,” laughed Fujiwara. “What did you go by back then, I can’t seem to remember.”

  “Have your laugh,” grumbled Mashige. “Now the name is stuck, and even if I changed it, someone would still remember it.”

  “Then maybe you should be looking for the doctor, I heard the bounty on him is worth his weight in gold.”

  Kondo’s ears perked up even further, and his senses heighted. “Doctor?”

  “Aye, that man is as good as dead. Then they are sending everyone they can out, and as you said, the bounty will be extraordinary. I am surprised that I have not seen any soldiers or bounty hunters about here, though I am sure they will come within a day or two. He could not have gotten far, though he must be hiding in the wilds somewhere.”

  “Maybe he already offed himself,” surmised Fujiwara. “He did what his religion commanded. What more does he have to live for?”

  “Perhaps, but I heard that the man was recently let go and banished from the Shōgun’s house. I think this was revenge for this dishonor, not a religious assassination, despite what they will tell you.”

  “He had been working there many years, I am told. That is a hard blow at the end of one’s life. Some would take it hard; I know I would.”

  “Aye, I would as well. Though I wouldn’t go offing the Shōgun!”

  At this, the men were silent for a few moments. Meanwhile, all of Kondo’s muscles were contracted and his mind whirled in utter disbelief.

  “Could it be?” he wondered. “The timing is close, but the old man. Could he have done such a thing?

  Kondo could not hold back any longer. He turned towards the men, sake decanter in hand, and said, “Excuse me gentleman.”

  The two looked over at Kondo darkly, for he was not well clothed and was still bandaged on most of his body.

  “I apologize, good sirs, but I happened to overhear a small piece of your conversation. You see, you mentioned bounty hunters. I have a brother who is in the bounty hunting business. He lives close by. Is there any chance do you happen to know the name of said doctor that did this despicable thing. Perhaps I can tell him and send him off on the hunt.”

  The two continued to stare at him, trying to judge if it was worth giving him an answer. Kondo indeed looked like he could be related to a bounty hunter, as frail and haggard as he appeared. But when Kondo handed them his full bottle of sake to take, they softened just enough.

  “Mori,” the man who bore the name Mashige answered, before turning away with distaste.

  An hour past midnight, Kondo quietly left his bedchamber and went to the room where Doctor Mori slept, which was adjacent to his. It was dark, though moonlight filtered in from a half-open window at the far side of the room. The light seemed to fall directly on the slumbering Mori, who, laying upon a futon, appeared to be enjoying a peaceful sleep.

  Kondo’s eyes were steady, and his face was set to a scowl. He stood over the old man, and though he was thinner now than he had ever been, his silhouette still made him to be like a great tower or multi-storied pagoda. Kondo knelt down slowly, and his arms extended outward like vipers ready to strike. He gently grasped his hands around Mori’s shirt collar and tightened his fists.

  At this subtle movement, Mori blinked several times, until he could see the outline of the figure before him.

  When he finally realized what was happening, he was alarmed, and instinctively thrust himself backwards, away from the figure kneeling over him. But he could not move, for the hands that grasped him were like stone, despite the injuries to them that had not yet healed.

  “Kondo-san!” Mori went to cry out, but his words were stifled by one of Kondo’s hands that pressed against his mouth tightly.

  “Be quiet!” Kondo hissed, as his eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Do not do anything but what I tell you.”

  Mori nodded his head, but his eyes showed utter terror in them.

  “First, you must answer me one question,” Kondo whispered, and his eyes focused intently on the old doctor. “And answer truly. I will know if you lie.”

  Mori nodded more frantically this time, but his eyes darted around the room, as if to call for help.

  “There is no help coming,” Kondo said, as if reading his thoughts. “Now tell me, did you kill the Shōgun?”

  At this Mori froze, and his body went limp. His pupils seemed to dilate, then contract, and then they filled with tears.

  “He is dead?” Kondo felt Mori’s lips instinctually utter from behind his hand.

  “He is,” Kondo answered, slowly releasing his hand from Mori’s mouth. He motioned with his finger to remain quiet. “It is said that you did it.”

  Mori’s eyes closed and he let out a long exhale. “My poor child.”

  “Did you do it?” Kondo repeated. “Did you kill the Shōgun?”

  “His name was Hideyō!” Mori shot back, and when he opened his eyes, they were full of wrath. This disconcerted Kondo, who had never seen this old man wear such a wretched look. “He was a good child, put into an impossible position. And the one thing I told him not to do was the one thing he could not do for me. He loved her so much.”

  “Tell me!” Kondo commanded, his voice cresting past whisper into a growl. His grip grew so tight on Mori’s collar that he had pulled his foot off his bed. “Did you kill the Shōgun?”

  “If the world thinks that I did, what does it matter what I say?” Mori answered, as tears fell from his eyes.

  Kondo stared at him hard before releasing his hold on him completely. “It matters, because I do not believe that you would do such a thing.”

  Doctor Mori, now that he was finally able to breathe again, lay back upon his futon, and remained there, motionless, staring up at the ceiling of his room, as if lost in thought.

  Kondo stood up again and paced about the room quietly.

  Eventually, Mori broke free from his thoughts and sat up to look at his patient, stalking back and forth across the room like a tiger. “Why do you believe me? If I am charged with this crime, then surely, I am worth much to you as a captive.”

  “I am well aware,” Kondo answered, but did not stop his pacing. Kondo knew this fact all too well and had dwelt upon it until he could contain it no longer. Of all times in his miserable life, this was the greatest opportunity ever afforded to him. With Mori as his captive, he could return to the New Capital as a hero. He would be greatly rewarded, and moreover, he would be known for something. He would have a name. All he had to do was reach out and grasp it.

  Yet he could not give the man up, for now that he had seen his eyes, he knew that he was blameless. “The price of a name would be everlasting guilt. It would blot out everything I have ever done,” Kondo thought.

  “You saved me, simply because I laid in your path,” Kondo said at last, stopping suddenly. “You knew that I was probably an evil man, and that I likely deserved death. But still you saved me.”

  Mori blinked his eyes but said nothing.

  “Such a man does not murder his liege lord, banished or no. This has all the signs of that woman, Ishihara. Only she would delight in blaming one who has served Mashige Hideyō faithfully for his murder. She was the one who killed him, I suspect.”

  “I suspect it as well,” murmured Mori, lost in thought once again. “He could not resist her. She overpowered him back then. I knew what she wanted. I dare say, he knew what she wanted. But he nor I could not stop it from happening.”

  “And their child?”

  Mashige shook his head. “The child will bear the name Mashige, but whose it really is, none but she can say.”

  Both were now silent for several minutes, contemplating the implications of these ominous truths.

  “If you had stayed, you would not have lived much longer,” Kondo finally said. “That is why the Shōgun dismissed you, no?”

  “You perceive rightly,” answered Mori.

  “I also think that if we remain here much longer, then you will surely be discovered. The bounty on your head will indeed be great. It will draw out many scoundrels from across the Islands.”

  “I should give myself up and let it be over with then. I am an old man, and I cannot...”

  “No!” Kondo interrupted, and Mori looked up at him, startled. “No. You should do no such thing. You have saved my life, Doctor Mori, and thus I am bound to you, whether you desire it or not. Therefore, I swear now to bring you to your destination safely. Then, and only then shall we part ways. While I am with you, you shall fear no man. For I have returned from death, and it frightens me no more.”