appeared from the back of the shop, crying, ‘Jiro, my little turtle, is that you?’ She glanced at Tora and then at Jirokichi. ‘Amida! What happened, lover?’
Jirokichi waved her away and looked at Tora with a blush. ‘She’s great in bed,’ he muttered.
Hoshina reappeared with wine and two cups in a basket. Tora marveled at her size. She was one of the biggest women he had ever seen. Jirokichi’s head would barely reach her ample bosom. She took a wet cloth from the bottom of the basket and knelt down beside the little man, touching his bruised face as lovingly as a mother. ‘You look terrible. Who did that to you, my love?’ She dabbed at the traces of blood.
Jirokichi winced, snatched the cloth away from her, and held it to his swollen lip. ‘Don’ask.’
Tora reached into his jacket to pay for the wine, but Jirokichi pushed his hand away. On me,’ he mumbled through the cloth.
‘I thought those hoodlums picked you clean?’
‘Hoodlums?’ cried Hoshina.
Jirokichi took the cloth away to say, ‘No, no. I had a fall. Now pour us some wine, precious.’
‘Precious’ leaned over him like a pine over a mushroom. ‘My poor darling. Whatever you say,’ she murmured. She poured. ‘Will I see you tonight?’
‘I’m not quite up to it.’
She pouted. ‘Liar. You’re always up to it.’
Jirokichi blushed again and shot Tora a glance.
She raised her chin. ‘Maybe I’ll ask your friend. He looks like he’s up to it.’
Jirokichi gasped, then shot Tora an anxious glance.
Tora laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m a married man.’
‘Pity.’ She poured the wine, whispered something in Jirokichi’s ear, and left.
They drank deeply and sighed in unison. Jirokichi – or whoever he was – certainly looked like a thief. Ask a thief if you want to catch a thief. His color was better, and Tora liked that the little man had not complained about the loose tooth or the pain in his jewels.
‘About those louts that attacked you,’ Tora said. ‘You don’t look like a wealthy man.’
Jirokichi gave him a quick glance, then looked down at himself and brushed some dirt from his pants and jacket. ‘Whath wrong with my clothes? I’m a working man, and I was clean before those bastards got hold o’ me. Leth forget about it.’
Tora’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘After what they did to you?’
‘No’ so loud.’ Jirokichi looked around, then leaned closer. ‘See, where I come from, we don’t make trouble for people like us. We help each other.’
Tora snorted. ‘After what those cruel bastards did to you?’
Jirokichi frowned. ‘They’ll be taken care of.’
Tora changed the subject. ‘I take it you only steal from the rich to give to the poor?’
Jirokichi ignored the sarcasm. He poured more wine, drank, and felt his tooth again. ‘Rich people steal our rice and our labor. I’m taking back what belongs to us,’ he explained.
He seemed serious, but Tora did not believe him. ‘What if someone turns you in to the police?’
Jirokichi raised his shoulders. ‘Life is full of surprises,’ he said.
‘Then you live dangerously. Is it worth it?’
‘Yes. I’m a great man to my people. I’m an artist. I’m no different from a poet or a painter or an archer. I practice my art and polish my style. I watch and I listen. I pick my target. I plan my approach. I execute it perfectly. My body and my mind are trained like a master swordsman’s.’
The little man was full of himself. The only thing he had practiced was telling tall tales. And he had not wanted to talk about the youths that attacked him. There was little point in it, but Tora asked anyway, ‘Since you do all that watching and listening, do you know anything about that last fire in the Sixth Ward?’
Jirokichi stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Come on. You must know about the fires. I’m looking for some young hoodlums just like the ones that grabbed you today. They robbed me of a large amount of gold and silver not far from
Jirokichi waved her away and looked at Tora with a blush. ‘She’s great in bed,’ he muttered.
Hoshina reappeared with wine and two cups in a basket. Tora marveled at her size. She was one of the biggest women he had ever seen. Jirokichi’s head would barely reach her ample bosom. She took a wet cloth from the bottom of the basket and knelt down beside the little man, touching his bruised face as lovingly as a mother. ‘You look terrible. Who did that to you, my love?’ She dabbed at the traces of blood.
Jirokichi winced, snatched the cloth away from her, and held it to his swollen lip. ‘Don’ask.’
Tora reached into his jacket to pay for the wine, but Jirokichi pushed his hand away. On me,’ he mumbled through the cloth.
‘I thought those hoodlums picked you clean?’
‘Hoodlums?’ cried Hoshina.
Jirokichi took the cloth away to say, ‘No, no. I had a fall. Now pour us some wine, precious.’
‘Precious’ leaned over him like a pine over a mushroom. ‘My poor darling. Whatever you say,’ she murmured. She poured. ‘Will I see you tonight?’
‘I’m not quite up to it.’
She pouted. ‘Liar. You’re always up to it.’
Jirokichi blushed again and shot Tora a glance.
She raised her chin. ‘Maybe I’ll ask your friend. He looks like he’s up to it.’
Jirokichi gasped, then shot Tora an anxious glance.
Tora laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m a married man.’
‘Pity.’ She poured the wine, whispered something in Jirokichi’s ear, and left.
They drank deeply and sighed in unison. Jirokichi – or whoever he was – certainly looked like a thief. Ask a thief if you want to catch a thief. His color was better, and Tora liked that the little man had not complained about the loose tooth or the pain in his jewels.
‘About those louts that attacked you,’ Tora said. ‘You don’t look like a wealthy man.’
Jirokichi gave him a quick glance, then looked down at himself and brushed some dirt from his pants and jacket. ‘Whath wrong with my clothes? I’m a working man, and I was clean before those bastards got hold o’ me. Leth forget about it.’
Tora’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘After what they did to you?’
‘No’ so loud.’ Jirokichi looked around, then leaned closer. ‘See, where I come from, we don’t make trouble for people like us. We help each other.’
Tora snorted. ‘After what those cruel bastards did to you?’
Jirokichi frowned. ‘They’ll be taken care of.’
Tora changed the subject. ‘I take it you only steal from the rich to give to the poor?’
Jirokichi ignored the sarcasm. He poured more wine, drank, and felt his tooth again. ‘Rich people steal our rice and our labor. I’m taking back what belongs to us,’ he explained.
He seemed serious, but Tora did not believe him. ‘What if someone turns you in to the police?’
Jirokichi raised his shoulders. ‘Life is full of surprises,’ he said.
‘Then you live dangerously. Is it worth it?’
‘Yes. I’m a great man to my people. I’m an artist. I’m no different from a poet or a painter or an archer. I practice my art and polish my style. I watch and I listen. I pick my target. I plan my approach. I execute it perfectly. My body and my mind are trained like a master swordsman’s.’
The little man was full of himself. The only thing he had practiced was telling tall tales. And he had not wanted to talk about the youths that attacked him. There was little point in it, but Tora asked anyway, ‘Since you do all that watching and listening, do you know anything about that last fire in the Sixth Ward?’
Jirokichi stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Come on. You must know about the fires. I’m looking for some young hoodlums just like the ones that grabbed you today. They robbed me of a large amount of gold and silver not far from
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