News From Poughkeepsie – Day 157

Great Detectives: Samurai

The daimyo’s messenger came to the poet for the third time, and for the third time, the poet rebuffed him.

“The daimyo requests your presence, General,” said the messenger, despite knowing exactly how his words would be received.

“It is in the nature of the daimyo to request,” the poet said. He did not look up from the bonsai tree he was methodically pruning. “Just as it is in my nature to deny such a request. It is the luxury of poets that we can ignore daimyos.”

“But you were a general in–” the messenger began, but was cut off by the quick motion of the poet’s knife toward his throat.

“I am no longer a general, and so do not claim that title. I need not be defined by anyone but myself.” The poet relaxed the knife, and returned to the tree. “That being said, this is the third time in as many days you have seeked my acquiescence. Why does the daimyo need an old poet so badly?”

“The daimyo’s son has died…” the messenger began.

“I am done with death. Your master knows that.”

“It is not the death that requires your talents. The son had dishonored the family, and committed seppuku, with his own father as his second. The circumstances of the death are not in question. The daimyo had requested your presence, Gen–Poet, because the head of his son can no longer be found.”

“I see. Tell your master I shall present myself at his home, as requested.” The poet stabbed the pruning knife deep into his worktable. “The game is afoot!”