Kill the Shogun by Dale Furutani

said. “I work for Boss Akinari, the biggest gambling boss in this part of town. If you want a job fighting, come talk to me. We can use a man like you. A real fighter, not like these worthless ronin.” The big man gave a shake that moved the two ronin tied to him like dolls.
    Because of his size, Kaze had assumed that the wrestler was the muscle for the two ronin. Now he understood that the big man was in charge. He reminded himself of the danger of assumptions, especially ones based on the appearance of people. It could kill you. He smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.
    Almost as if it were an explanation of why he had offered Kaze a job, Nobu said, “I’ve never been bested in a fight before.”
    Kaze nodded, continuing his ascent of the stairs and leaving the merchant to work out an accommodation with the three men tied up on his floor.
    In his room, Kaze allowed himself the indulgence of rubbing his ear. It was still hot from the blood rushing to it when the wrestler’s fist grazed it. Kaze had misjudged how much to move because the wrestler had such large hands.
    When Kaze was young, he went into the mountains near his home and sought out a renowned Sensei, a teacher, to learn the ways of the sword. During his first lesson on how to avoid blows from the sword, Kaze had nimbly jumped to one side as the Sensei brought the
bokken
, the wooden practice sword, down in an overhead cut.
    Kaze was proud of his ability to dodge the blow, but his Sensei scowled. The teacher held up the wooden sword so the edge was facing Kaze. “How wide is this sword?” he asked.
    Kaze showed the width of the bokken by moving his thumb and forefinger a short distance apart.
    “That’s right,” the Sensei said. “How far did you jump?”
    Kaze put his two hands apart to show the distance.
    The Sensei said no more, but Kaze understood the lesson. Economy of movement and judgment were as important as agility. Rubbing his ear, Kaze reflected that while swords were of a consistent width, he must remember that men’s fists were not.

          CHAPTER 6
     
    Plans woven like the
silk threads in a kimono.
Snags can rend the cloth.
    T okugawa Ieyasu thought he had been chosen to lead by the will of the Gods, and there was little in his life to make him change that opinion. This did not mean that his life was without hardship. In fact, the exact opposite was true. But Ieyasu was fond of saying, “Persuade yourself that imperfection and inconvenience is the natural lot of mortals, and there will be no room for discontent or despair.”
    This belief in his divine selection must have come later in his life, because his early years were not auspicious. He was born the son of a country daimyo who ruled the province of Mikawa. When he was four, he was sent as a hostage to an ally to guarantee his father’s good behavior. Unfortunately, during his journey, he was captured by his father’s bitter enemy and made a hostage under conditions that were both harsh and precarious. His captor even threatened to kill him if his father didn’t do what the captor demanded. But Ieyasu’s father risked the life of his son and ignored the threat. Ironically, the daimyo who had captured him was Oda Nobuhide, the father of Oda Nobunaga, a man Ieyasu was later to become strongly allied to. Two years later, Ieyasu was sent tohis original destination, where he remained a hostage of the ally for an additional eleven years.
    During his absence, the samurai of Mikawa had not fared much better than their young master, suffering many hardships that forced many of them to return to the soil, to work as farmers, just to survive. Thus, when Ieyasu finally returned to Mikawa, it was with a great deal of surprise that he learned that one of his retainers had preserved the bulk of the Mikawa treasury, because he knew the young Lord would need money to equip and outfit troops. Ieyasu was moved to tears by this gesture of loyalty. Because of the sacrifice