“Sure you do,” General Isogai said. “What I don’t think you realize is that it’s time for you to move against Lord Matsudaira.”

Sano shouldn’t have been surprised, but for a moment he couldn’t reply.

“He who strikes first and catches his opponent off guard has the advantage.” Uemori spoke with the wisdom of his decades as the regime’s chief military adviser.

“Now is your best chance,” Ohgami said.

Finding his voice, Sano said, “You want me to overthrow Lord Matsudaira?”

“That’s right,” General Isogai said. “We and your other allies are behind you all the way.”

“We understand that things have changed so suddenly and you’ve been so busy that you haven’t had the opportunity to make any plans,” Uemori said. “We’ll give you time to think about our proposal.”

“But don’t take too much time,” General Isogai said. “Hesitation will get you killed.”

The temple hadn’t changed since Hirata had left. Mist still veiled the Yoshino Mountains; eagles still soared above the pagoda; the bell still echoed across the pine forests. But as Hirata climbed up the steps cut into the cliff, his awareness of the place encompassed the tiniest birds, insects, and lichens in the woods, the planets, stars, and the infinite cosmos beyond. His spirit balanced within their totality. The energy coursing through him relieved the weariness of the fifteen-day ride from Edo. He entered the temple gate and paused, his heightened senses testing the air for Ozuno’s presence.

The pulsation of his teacher’s shield led Hirata to the main precinct where the worship hall dominated a courtyard. Ozuno limped toward him, leaning on his staff, across the paving stones. Hirata met him in the middle.

“I didn’t think you’d be back,” Ozuno said, irritable as ever. “What happened? The Tokugawa regime threw you out on your behind? You have nowhere else to go?”

“No,” Hirata said, “a miracle happened.”

“What nonsense are you talking?”

“I finally got what you were trying to teach me,” Hirata said. “I used it to defeat my enemies. I saved my master’s life.”

As he elaborated, a most gratifying expression of amazement dawned on his teacher’s face. Ozuno gaped, scratched his head, and squatted on the ground as if cut down to size by the news.

“The cosmic winds blow me to hell!” he said.

This moment was supremely worth all the toil and frustration Hirata had endured, all the abuse he’d taken from Ozuno. “The last time we met, you told me that if a miracle happened, you would resume my training.”

“Indeed? I suppose you expect me to keep my bargain,” Ozuno said, recovering his orneriness.

Hirata spread his arms. “When do we start?”

“No time like the present.” As Ozuno stood up, he looked closely at Hirata, waiting for him to make some excuse.

“Fine,” Hirata said.

Sano had given him an indefinite leave of absence, his reward for his heroics. The shogun and Lord Matsudaira had agreed to it. For once Hirata had all the time in the world to devote to his training. His only problem was leaving Midori and the children. But his previous dabbling in the mystic martial arts had started something that he had to finish, no matter the sacrifice. That day at the eta settlement had set him on a path of no return.

“All right,” Ozuno said, resigned. “We’ll begin with ten days of meditation and breathing exercises.”

“Not that again,” Hirata protested. “Haven’t I proved that I’m beyond it?”

Ozuno frowned in severe rebuke. “You’ve proved that you haven’t changed as much as you think. You’re still the same, pigheaded fool. You don’t understand that a warrior must never give up practicing the basics.”

“But I’m ready for something more advanced now,” Hirata said.

“Really?”

Ozuno lashed out at Hirata with his staff. Hirata never saw the blow coming. It landed smack across his stomach. As he cried out in surprise and doubled over in pain, Ozuno kicked his rear end. He found himself facedown on the pavement.

“If you’re so advanced, you should have sensed that I was going to hit you and counterattacked me,” Ozuno said.

Hirata rolled over and groaned. Ozuno said, “Winning that battle was just beginner’s luck. Get up, you fool. You’ve got a long way to go.”

“Surely you’re not going to do what General Isogai and the elders want,” Reiko said, alarmed. “You’re not going to challenge Lord Matsudaira?”

“It’s something I must consider,” Sano said.

He and Reiko sat in the pavilion of their garden in the coolness of the evening. They kept their voices low in case there were spies lurking in the shadows. Lanterns glowed in the windows of the house. Fragrant incense burned to repel mosquitoes. Across the garden, Masahiro carried a lantern, pulled up worms for a fishing expedition. Reiko stared at Sano in disbelief.

“You mean you might actually do what you were falsely accused of doing-betray Lord Matsudaira?” She was so shocked that her mouth gaped and closed several times.

Sano’s expression was dark, conflicted. “I know how it sounds.”

“You would try to seize power after you were almost put to death for treason?”

“It’s less a matter of ambition than survival.”

“Have General Isogai and the elders manipulated you into believing that?” Reiko said, incredulous.

He rose and stood at the railing that enclosed the pavilion, his back to her. “No. I was surprised that they were keen on the idea, but I’ve been thinking about challenging Lord Matsudaira since before they suggested it.”

“You have?” Reiko had thought that nothing else could surprise her anymore.

“It’s been on my mind every time I remembered how sick I am of having to defend myself against Lord Matsudaira,” Sano assented, “every time I wondered how to prevent more crises like the one we’ve just been through. Every time I imagine how much better my life would be if Lord Matsudaira were gone, overthrowing him seems like the logical solution.”

The anger in his voice troubled Reiko even though she understood it and she, too, was angry at Lord Matsudaira, because he’d almost condemned her to death for a crime she hadn’t committed. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to agree with Sano.

“It would be dangerous,” she said. “You could lose.”

“I could lose by doing nothing,” Sano said. “Lord Matsudaira likes me well enough now, but he could turn on me again at any time. He’s not exactly comfortable with how powerful I’ve become. And I still have enemies. They wouldn’t mind joining with Lord Matsudaira to crush me while they can.”

Reiko couldn’t argue with that, but she had other, stronger objections. “To be so disloyal to your superior would violate the samurai code of honor.”

Sano turned slightly, and the light from the house gilded the wry smile on his face. “Bushido is a double standard. On one hand, it keeps the lower-ranking samurai in their places. On the other hand, every warlord who’s risen to power has done it at the expense of a superior, and there’s no disgrace attached to that.”

His cynicism troubled Reiko. In the space of a few days, he’d changed from her husband who marched along a distinct line that divided right and wrong to a stranger who perceived infinite shadings between them. Yet she found herself nodding. The murder case had changed her, too. She was as sick of being suspected, accused, and threatened by Lord Matsudaira as Sano was. Maybe it was time to stand up for themselves, to secure the future of their children. And Sano deserved an opportunity to govern the nation more fairly than his colleagues had. But the idea of his staging a coup terrified her even though his allies and army were strong and his chances of winning worth a gamble. The idea of war and bloodshed daunted any mother, even a samurai woman.

She rose, stood beside Sano, and laid her hand on his. “Promise me you won’t act rashly.”

He covered her hand with his other. “I promise that whatever I do will be carefully thought out in advance.”