The eagle sailed majestically above Kyoto, eyes searching for his target. In the skies, nothing could even pray to survive. Its eyes focused on the small brown bird a half mile below it. The bird of prey dove, talons outstretched. The prey realized its peril, and dove for the trees. The eagle followed the bird into the treeline, dropping like a rock. The bird, rather than diving for the earth, as every other bird would, turned quickly around a fairly large tree, as only a small bird can. The eagle, never panicking, slammed into the tree, falling twenty feet to the forest below. It had never seen the peril.
Suzuki’s hands crumpled the paper. Tamaguchi had been a most promising prospect. He was not one to anger easily, but he had reason. First at Ichii, whose incompetence had lost Tamaguchi for the Black Hand. Second at this samurai who destroyed Ichii’s thugs. A man that good could have easily slain Ichii as well. Why did he not? Perhaps as a message. Suzuki had been known to send such messages before.
His blood chilled. Revenge was the motive, obviously. Perhaps a former initiate of the Order? Suzuki began to recount his former apprentices. Not Matsuda. He was far too hasty and hot-blooded to do this. Ichikiro was good enough, though he had resigned, rather than be exiled. Ichikiro was more honorable than most. Perhaps he…no. Ichikiro had left upon his father’s death, to grow rice and support his family. Ichikiro was not involved. No students, then.
Angered others? After hours of thought, Suzuki was frustrated. No one with a quarrel with him fit the description of what had happened. The magistrate was in his pocket. Surely the Shogunate was not involved. No one of any significance had been killed in the past two months. A soft knock on the door frame interrupted Suzuki’s frenzied thinking. Calming his mind, he looked towards the door. “Enter, please.”
The door swung open, revealing a clean-shaven man bearing a pot of lacquered ceramic. “Master, would you care for some tea?”
“Please, Toyoda.” Suzuki gestured to the low table in front of where he sat.
Toyoda placed the pot on the table. “Master, do you wish me to go fetch Hondo?”
Suzuki smiled to himself. Toyoda was young and enthusiastic, though he supposed the two went together, like honey and bees. Unfortunately that enthusiasm often led to mistakes, and mistakes in this profession meant death. “Toyoda, is Domo Nissan back yet?”
“Yes, Master. He arrived just as I left the kitchen.”
“Could you fetch them both, please?”
Toyoda bowed deeply, and Suzuki returned it. “Such is your command, such shall it be, Master.”
The door shut behind him. Date was a problem all of his own. Suzuki would never reveal the rumors of Osahito, as none could get a head start except the Hand. All his plans depended on it.
Tamaguchi’s rescuer. That was a dilemma he had not yet solved. Suzuki was not a man to like unsolved puzzles. He had spent a few years at Honinbo in his youth, and was accounted a decent strategist. One had to be, to command the most noble guild in all Nippon. This puzzle was…intractable. Ah, perhaps one of the youngsters would see something in this he hadn’t. If not, then time would clear the waters. Hopefully before it was too late.