The Masuda Affair by I. J. Parker

gone, I … have nothing – except a dreadful fear of having abandoned him to the brutality of his parents.’ He stared bleakly into the cup of tea.
    ‘You cannot replace a child the way you would a dog,’ Seimei said.
    That made Akitada angry. ‘Forget it. You don’t understand. How could you?’
    Seimei bit his lip. ‘Drink your tea.’
    Akitada drank. They looked at each other. Akitada felt demoralized. He groaned. ‘Everything I touch breaks in my hands. My life is cursed. What am I to do, Seimei?’
    ‘Her Ladyship—’ began Seimei.
    Getting up abruptly, Akitada said, ‘Never mind. Thankyou for the tea. After a bath, I shall work on the household accounts for the rest of the day.’
    Seimei sighed and left.
    Tora was too worried to rest long. He decided to forego the evening rice. Since Akitada was bathing, he told Seimei he was going into the city. The old man was arranging the household accounts on Akitada’s desk and seemed preoccupied. He barely looked up.
    Tora’s destination was a quarter near the Eastern Temple, a far distance for a tired man, but he walked quickly. This southernmost corner of the capital was almost rural. A few great estates mingled with a large number of very modest homes and small farms. The small houses clustered around and between the large, tree-shaded and walled compounds and belonged mostly to the owners’ retainers and servants. Children played in the street, and laundry dried on bamboo fencing.
    The rain had left puddles in the streets, and some ducks scattered as Tora passed. Doves cooed on the wooden eaves, and behind one of the mansion walls someone played a lute. Tora’s spirits lifted and he started to whistle.
    Near the southern embankment of the city he turned into the yard of a tiny house and carefully closed the bamboo gate behind him. As always, he stopped to gaze at his home. The new roof was thatched and set the wooden house, little more than a one-room shack, apart from its flat-roofed neighbors. New steps led to a small porch at the front door, and a morning glory vine covered with deep-blue flowers and buzzing bees twined around its railing. Tora thought about adding a beehive next year, and then turned his attention to the little vegetable garden. His cabbages and radishes, planted in neat rows, looked well. The soil was good here, and the recent rain had caused a spurt of growth. He smiled as he walked along the path to the house. On the new step sat a fat white cat cleaning one front paw and barely pausing to purr when Tora bent to scratch its head.
    He straightened and called, ‘Hanae? I’m back.’
    Immediately, a loud yelping sounded from behind thehouse. It changed to excited barks, and then a cloud of squawking and fluttering chickens erupted around the corner, followed by a large grey creature making the sharp turn on scrabbling paws. The creature transformed itself into a shaggy dog, who flung himself on Tora in a paroxysm of joy. Tora staggered back and stepped on the cat’s tail. The cat yowled, spat, and jumped on to the railing, where it clung, hissing and twitching its tail.
    Tora fended off the flying paws and lapping tongue. ‘Down, Trouble. Down, you big useless monster. Down. You broke your rope again. Where’s your mistress?’
    The dog sat, the remnants of a straw rope still attached to his neck, his tail beating a drum roll on the wooden boards. He pricked up pointed ears and looked attentive.
    ‘Hanae?’ Tora called again.
    The dog’s ears twitched, and he looked around expectantly.
    ‘Stupid dog,’ said Tora. ‘That’s what I bought you for. To watch your mistress. Don’t you remember where she went?’
    The tail thumped apologetically.
    Next door, a middle-aged woman came out on her porch. ‘That you, Tora? Hanae’s gone to the market. She should be back soon. Is that big brute loose again? I don’t want him after my chickens.’
    ‘Hello, Mrs Hamada. I’ll tie him up. He doesn’t mean any harm. Just has too much