Falling Through Glass (6 page)

She stayed where she’d stopped, a few feet or so behind Kaemon.

“Hijikata-san, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Kaemon said. “I could have gone to the Mimawarigumi, but we both know that sometimes the integrity of that group leaves something to be desired.”

“I must agree with that,” Yamanami said. “I wouldn’t put any woman’s safety in their hands.”

Hijikata cast Emmi another hard look. “Fine,” he said flatly before stalking away to a room farther down the hall.

“There’s Captain Harada,” Yamanami said. “I will ask him to have men ready a cell and have a food tray prepared.”

“Thank you. I’m sure Maeda-dono is hungry and tired.”

Yamanami stepped away, and the reality of the situation hit Emmi. Impulsively, she grabbed Kaemon by the arm. “Are you insan—” she began in English, quickly shifting to Japanese. “What are you doing? Are you having me arrested? I’m no criminal! I haven’t done anything!”

“I told you earlier that I’d like you to speak with the governor of Kyoto. Until then, I need to keep you secure in Kyoto. You can consent to the questioning and be a guest for the night, or continue to be difficult and become a certified prisoner for an indefinite period. The choice is yours.”

Wonderful. So this was the story he was passing around, that she must be some informant or something and needed to speak with the “Feds,” as it were. Emmi exhaled a long, defeated sigh as Yamanami came back onto the porch and went into his room for something.

“Fine. I’ll cooperate.”

Chapter Six

“But I’m afraid,” Emmi said as the harsh truth sank in. She was a prisoner.

“It’s only for tonight,” Kaemon said. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow.”

Emmi swallowed back her unease and nodded. He almost seemed to care.

“What about my mirror?”

“Yamanami-san will see that it is secure.”

She nodded again and lowered her gaze, determined not to cry in front of this guy. She looked up when he spoke again, his tone much softer than it had been all night.

“Yamanami-san, could you assign a guard to her for the night?”

“Of course.”

“Could you choose someone totally trustworthy? Someone who would never think to take advantage of the situation?”

Yamanami placed his hand on Kaemon’s shoulder. “I’ve been having difficulty sleeping lately. Let me lock her mirror away, and then I’ll go stay with her.”

Kaemon bowed deeply. “I am in your debt, Yamanami-san.”

When the older man left, Kaemon looked at Emmi a long time, and she tried to figure out what was going on behind those piercing dark eyes of his. For the first time, she took a long look at her “rescuer.” He was young. She doubted he was much older than she was.

In fact, he was awfully good-looking.

Yamanami returned from his room and Kaemon left without saying another word or even looking back.

“I won’t lie to you, Maeda-dono,” Yamanami said as they walked toward a small L-shaped building at the far end of the compound. “The men we have detained are typical dogs, and, even though we rearranged them to place empty cells adjacent to yours, they’ll still be able to glimpse you coming in, so don’t be surprised if they say things you might not be used to hearing said to a lady.”

Unnerved at the thought of being stuck in an actual jail with violent criminals, Emmi stumbled.

Yamanami placed a steadying hand on her arm. “It will be all right. I’ll see to it that you’re not alone in there.”

“Thank you.”

As predicted, the prisoners began calling out when she stepped inside the jail. Emmi was glad they spoke so quickly. She couldn’t process it all, but even the gist of their words made her want to throw up.

“Silence!” Yamanami yelled in a voice infinitely more commanding than his measured speaking tone.

Emmi kept her eyes focused on her feet. She followed the vice-commander to the middle of the three small cells that formed the shorter portion of the L. Blankets had been hung on the sides as makeshift walls. Yamanami picked up the clean chamber pot from the floor outside and placed it in the right corner behind a small bamboo screen.

“It isn’t the privacy you’re used to, but I think you’ll be comfortable enough.”

“Thank you,” Emmi said, stepping inside. Though she wanted to scream when Yamanami shut the door and placed a large iron lock through the wooden bars, she kept silent.

“I’m going to check on that food tray, and then I’ll be back.”

“All right.”

When he left, Emmi unrolled the thin futon mat and curled up in the center. She prayed that this was all a nightmare, that she’d wake up and find it had all been a bad dream. That wish fell apart quickly once the male prisoners began calling out to her a few minutes later.

“They bring you to entertain us?”

“You smell sweet.”

“I get the first taste.”

Emmi covered her ears and hoped Yamanami would return soon. When the outer door to the jail slid open, she crawled to the front bars and looked out.

She could make out Yamanami in the dim lantern light. He was carrying a dinner tray. Behind him was another man, who veered off toward the prisoners’ cells.

Emmi gasped when she heard scuffling and what could only be the sound of men being beaten. A man’s voice issued threats and orders of silence.

“Pay it no mind, child,” Yamanami said as he set the tray down then unlocked the door.

“But—”

“They savaged and murdered a woman who was gathering information for the shogunate. They don’t deserve your mercy.”

He slipped the open lock through one of the door crossbars, then picked up the tray and set it on the floor beside the futon. Emmi’s empty stomach rumbled at the smell of the soup, steaming tea and flat bread. She noticed that there was enough for two.

“If you don’t mind, I thought I’d sit here with you.”

“Well…”

Yamanami smiled a rather sad smile. “It’s quite safe, I promise you.”

“Yamanami-san,” a man said.

Emmi looked up at the man who had accompanied the vice-commander inside. He was dressed in a dark kimono, his black hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

“Forgive the interruption. I don’t think you’ll have any further trouble tonight from that scum.”

Yamanami sighed, and Emmi had the distinct impression that he didn’t have much of a stomach for this part of the job.

“Thank you, Saitou-san.” He turned back to her. “Maeda-dono, this is Saitou Hajime, captain of the third unit.”

Emmi managed to stop herself from saying “I know.” Saitou was portrayed quite often in anime and manga. The drawn versions didn’t come close to grabbing the intensity of the real man.

Saitou bowed to her then addressed his commander once more. “I will be making rounds through the compound tonight if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

The fierce samurai headed to the door, pausing long enough to order the prisoners to cease their groaning and sniveling else he’d “make them stop.”

“I think he’s more frightening than Hijikata.”

“You might be right.” Yamanami removed the cover from the food dishes. “We’d better eat this before it gets cold.”

* * * *

At the sound of the quiet knock, Hijikata Toshizou turned toward the inner door. “Enter.”

His chief investigator slipped inside and knelt, bowing deeply.

“As of now, my sources within the Shoshidai have no information on any girl scheduled to be questioned in connection with rebel activities. It’s possible the girl may have information on another matter, or it might be that the confusion surrounding the current changeover between governors has let something slip through the cracks.”

Hijikata stroked his chin. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “This bureaucratic confusion is all unbelievably convenient for our friend, Nakagawa no miya—oh that’s right, he calls himself Fujiwara in public.” Hijikata snorted. The emperor’s nephew shouldn’t go about putting on the pretense of a commoner. Men of the court had no stomach for war—particularly a prince with a weakness for pretty faces.

“Sir?”

Hijikata dismissed his speculation with a wave. “And the girl?”

“I didn’t find any information specifically on her, although it seems that she and Fujiwara were coming from the direction of the Inamoto-ro. However, they have no women fitting her description. I checked with people at the other first-class houses, but they had nothing either.” The spy paused. “Shall I check with the lesser houses?”

Hijikata shook his head. “Fujiwara wouldn’t dirty himself at a lesser brothel.” He drank a small saucer of sake, offering some to his spy. “Something about the girl didn’t come across as a prostitute, though she was dressed like one. She had no shoes, and her hair was a mess. Such slovenliness is not good for business.” He poured himself another drink. “What exactly could our ‘friend’ be up to?”

“You don’t think he has begun to side with the rebels, do you?”

Hijikata shrugged. “Katsura and his people want to be the power behind the throne, and what better way to get close to that throne than through the son of the emperor’s closest advisor?”

“But if the girl is a Choshu spy, then perhaps that’s why he wants to hand her over to the Shoshidai.”

“That’s entirely possible,” Hijikata agreed. “However, I don’t trust our current governor, Inaba. When Matsudaira takes over in the next few days, we may know more.”

The spy, Yamazaki, bowed and stood. “I’ll keep trying to find out who the girl is and see what I can dig up on Fujiwara’s recent activities.”

“Fine.”

* * * *

In his bedroom in one of the residence buildings of the Imperial Palace, Kae stared up at the moonlight glinting off the gilded ceiling trim. He reached beneath his thick futon and pulled out the stained cloth he’d wrapped around the pretty oni’s hand earlier. The stains certainly appeared to be human blood. She could feel pain and fear. She had cried. These things certainly seemed to prove her claim that she was no demon. Yet the undeniable fact was that he had pulled her from Aneko’s mirror with his own hands. How could she have come from within a mirror and not be some otherworldly being?

‘
I told you, I’m Em—Maeda Emiko. I don’t know how I got here, but I know the mirror has something to do with it, and I need it to get back to my time…
’

Her time.

What did that mean? For that matter, why did she have such an odd accent and where had she learned foreign words?

Kae got up and tossed the bloodstained cloth into the small brazier that did little to warm the room. He went back to his futon and pulled the cover over his head. He closed his eyes, doubting that sleep would come any time soon.

It wasn’t just this business with the pretty oni—Emiko, he corrected himself—that troubled him. The very condition of Japan itself preyed upon his mind.

His father did not like the political trouble the Choshu clan and their followers stirred within their various domains. While they insisted that they revered the emperor and wanted to expel all foreign barbarians, the truth of the matter was that this Sonno Joi philosophy of theirs was merely a means to overthrow the Tokugawa. With the shogunate gone, they would be in the position of power to make the rules that benefited themselves and not necessarily all of Japan.

Kaemon bolted upright as a preposterous thought hit him.

Of course! His pretty oni was a human girl—her odd appearance was all part of the rebels’ plan.

Before Aneko had left the brothel, she’d had one of the serving girls bring him sake. While he doubted that Aneko could be any kind of accomplice, it remained entirely possible that the Choshu had found out exactly who he was and had found the perfect opportunity to drug him.

Kae stood and paced the room. It all made perfect sense. The episode with the mirror was nothing more than a drugged dream and the acting of a devious girl playing tricks with his mind.

But if that’s true, then why didn’t they poison me outright?

Chapter Seven

Emmi woke a bit before dawn and sat up to see Yamanami had fallen asleep sitting against the side of the cell. Emmi took one of her blankets and gently draped it over him.

He was such a nice man that she found it hard to believe he was actually one of the leaders of this fierce group of samurai. She’d detected sadness in him when he spoke of their recent run-ins with the Choshu samurai who were seeking to overthrow the shogun. It was clear that he fought when he had to, but each time he raised his sword against another man, he did so at a great personal sacrifice.

Emmi wished now that her father hadn’t read her those history books as bedtime stories when she was younger. It broke her heart to know what Yamanami Keisuke couldn’t. His conscience would not allow him to violate the Shinsengumi’s cardinal rule—once you joined, you could never leave. Yamanami would die because of it.

Her mouth was bone dry. Emmi reached through the open cell door and poured herself a bit of the now cold tea that was left in the pot from the night before. It wasn’t her usual morning latte, but it wasn’t so bad. Unfortunately, it was just enough to fill her bladder to the overflowing point. She stifled a groan as she thought of the chamber pot waiting behind the screen in the corner.

She tried thinking of something, anything, to take her mind off her need, but all her imagination would conjure was a remembrance of sitting on the beach near Jake’s condo. The beach. The ocean. All that water, pounding against the rocks. Wave after wave…

Emmi nearly dove toward the screen to use the dreaded ceramic pot. She struggled to get situated, but once she did, she shut her eyes and hoped that Yamanami would sleep through the sound, which seemed as loud as the gushing of Niagara Falls. Though her bladder felt so much better once the deluge ran its course, there was still one small problem.

Or not.

Finally, Emmi appreciated Grandma Maeda’s weird fixation that a lady should always carry a tissue or two tucked in the center of her bra. It wasn’t quite the abundant quilted softness she was used to, but it was close enough.