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made a noise to show assent.
    Chou rose to a sitting position, but kept her face turned down to show respect. She tenderly slipped the end of the thong from under Emi’s garment. As Satsu described, the leather strip passed through a hole at the center of a golden coin, allowing the coin to serve as a makeshift pendant.
    Hiro spoke to Father Mateo. “The width of the leather strip is a match to the injuries on the victim’s neck.” He looked at Satsu. “I will take the leather with me—along with the coin.”
    Satsu nodded. “As you wish, sir.”
    Chou attempted to untie the leather strip from her sister’s neck. The knot that bound the thong had tightened, possibly during the murder; it proved difficult to loosen. When she finally freed the leather, Chou offered it to Hiro with both hands.
    â€œDo you know where your sister got this?” Hiro asked as he accepted the coin.
    Chou shook her head but did not look up. Something—likely her mother’s slap—had made her remember that actors’ daughters did not speak boldly to samurai.
    â€œShe didn’t tell you about it?” Satsu asked. “You are certain of this?”
    â€œI never saw it . . . before . . .” Chou’s voice trailed off, and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her sister’s body.
    Satsu gave Hiro a meaningful look. Chou’s answer reinforced his assertion that Emi had not owned a golden coin.
    Hiro retied the knot to keep the coin from sliding off and tucked the coin and thong into his sleeve. “Why did your sister go to the river yesterday, in the evening?”
    â€œWith respect, we did not know she went there,” Satsu said.
    â€œI did not ask you.” Hiro let an edge of frustration creep into his voice. “I asked your daughter.”

CHAPTER 9
    â€œShe wouldn’t—” Satsu began, but stopped as Chou began to speak.
    â€œSometimes Emi had trouble sleeping. She walked by the river to clear her head.” Chou turned to her father and bowed her face to the tatami. “I am so sorry. I should have told you.”
    Rapid footsteps thumped in the outer room.
    Hiro drew his sword and leaped to the doorway. He pressed the katana’s blade to the neck of the man who appeared in the entrance.
    The newcomer froze, terrified by the unexpected steel against his skin. His eyes went wide, but he did not move or speak.
    â€œWho are you?” Hiro demanded.
    The man had a delicate build, effeminate features, and a mane of shimmering hair that nearly reached his waist. His narrow chin could not yet grow a beard.
    He straightened. “I am Yuji, shite of the Yutoku-za.” His red-rimmed eyes had the look of recent tears.
    Hiro did not like the arrogant tone in the young man’s voice. “You lie. The shite of this troupe is named Botan.”
    â€œI am his eldest apprentice, betrothed to his granddaughter,” Yuji said.
    Satsu bowed. “It is the truth.”
    Father Mateo extended his hands to Yuji. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
    Hiro narrowed his eyes but sheathed his sword.
    â€œMy loss?” Yuji looked confused and frightened in equal measure.
    â€œYou haven’t heard? Oh . . .” Father Mateo ran a hand through his hair. “I am so sorry.”
    Understanding transformed Yuji’s face. “I am betrothed to Botan’s eldest granddaughter—Chou.” After a pause, he added, “Not that Emi’s death does not upset me.”
    â€œWhy were you running?” Hiro asked.
    Yuji’s eyes filled with tears as he saw the corpse. “I learned of the tragedy only now, after I finished my lesson with Master Botan. I had to see . . .” He raised a hand to his mouth and shook his head.
    â€œI told Haru—my son—to wait outside the practice room and deliver the message after the lesson finished,” Satsu said.
    Father Mateo