Instead of making him feel better, the grin deepened Toyo’s sense of panic.

He gave a quick smile then for Toyo, the same grin he always flashed right before getting them into trouble. Uncle Koji closed his eyes, touched the flat part of the blade to his forehead, and set the wakizashi in front of him on the mat. His uncle held the wakizashi cradled in his hands as though it were a newborn child. When he felt the weight of the sword lift from the stand, Toyo looked up at Koji. Kneeling a little clumsily, he bowed low to the ground once more to present the short wakizashi to his uncle. Toyo strained to keep his legs from shaking as he entered the shrine. The point and the edge of the blade were razor sharp. His father nodded, and Toyo stood and picked up a small wooden stand supporting a short sword about as long as his forearm. Returning the bow from his knees, Toyo touched his head to the ground to show his great respect for his uncle. Koji bowed to Toyo, the ceremony’s only witness. Carrying them outside like this was illegal, though Toyo’s father would soon be using the swords to carry out an order signed by the Emperor himself. For as long as he could remember, the katana and wakizashi had been retired to a place of honor in their home. Toyo’s father wore a simple gray kimono with the family swords tucked neatly into his sash. In fact, Toyo couldn’t remember either of them laughing for a long time.

They used to joke that Koji’s nose had been as straight as his older brother’s, until it had been flattened one too many times in judo practice.

Though older than his brother, Toyo’s father was slightly smaller than Koji, with a long, thin face and a sharp nose like a katana blade. Koji knelt on the tatami mats and crossed his legs, keeping his hands on his hips and his arms akimbo. Toyo’s uncle was clean shaven and recently bathed, and he wore his hair in a tight top-knot like the samurai of old. He wore a ceremonial white kimono with brilliant red wings – the wings he usually wore only into battle. Now Toyo sat in the damp grass outside the shrine as his uncle moved to the center of the mats. Everything had to be perfect for Uncle Koji’s seppuku. When that was done, he carefully arranged new tatami mats on the dirt floor. Toyo watched carefully as his uncle prepared to kill himself.īefore dawn, he had swept and cleaned his uncle’s favorite shrine, down to polishing the small mirror that hung on a post at its center.

Samurai shortstop