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In his heart he was no man's right hand but； rather； wished only to select his own line of mand from top to bottom。
This was in her mind as she came across the polished floorboards； feeling their supple springiness beneath her white socks。 She had left sandals and cloak at the door； after first locking it from the inside。 No one else was here； no one would e； there was only the two of them now。
Ishii became aware of her only when she was very close。 The particular irimi he was working on had been one whose perfect execution had eluded him even after months of the most diligent practice。 Still； he was not frustrated； nor was he angry at himself。 He had just e to a decision to pass on to another variation when his break in concentration revealed Akiko。
His head came up； sweat sparkling like dew across his black； close…cropped hair。 He bowed immediately； voicing the traditional greeting； 〃Ikagadesuka； Oku…san。〃
Somewhat distantly； Akiko returned it。 〃Hoi。 Okagesamade。 Arigatogozaimasu。〃 It was schoolgirl's rote； that was all。 〃Tell me；〃 she said； 〃are you as assiduous in your work on the merger as you are at aikidoT
〃I do what is asked of me； Oku…san。〃
Akiko gave the top of his head a bleak smile。 She could see his scalp； burnished as brass。 〃And that is all that you do？〃
At the last upward inflection； Ishii's head lifted and his deceptively soft brown eyes gathered her in。 For an instant Akiko felt like an image upon a plate； developing。 Then he blinked and the sense was gone。 〃I am not a robot； if that is your meaning；〃 he said deliberately。 〃I create for the pany as well as serve it。〃
〃In what way？〃
〃With my mind。〃
〃You are an impudent man；〃 she said coldly。
〃My apologies； Oku…san。〃 He bowed again。 〃Please forgive me。〃
Her lips curled upward and she held out a hand； closing her fingers around the stave。 She pulled； and he took a halting step closer to her。 She made him aware of her as a woman in the way she stood； in the attitude of her head； her expression recalled the moment of his searching look on her wedding day。 She melted into him。
〃This is what you want； isn't it；〃 she whispered into his ear。
She felt how startled he was at her aggressive stance and laughed to herself。 He was pulled by the conventions of his mind； drawn by her heat。 It was his moment of indecision。
Using that； she broke the stave across his right shoulder with a variation of the iai draw； too swift to see clearly。 His mind was stunned； his body immobilized at the same time。
Now a part of her felt sorry for him。 Kneeling； bent and broken before her； without even uttering one animal mewl of protest； where was his maleness； his traditional superiority？ He was nothing now： not an image or an icon； not a protector or a provider； he was； she saw； not even an enemy。 He was merely a means to an end。
His face was raised toward her。 His skin was covered in pristine beads： the sweat of pain。 His ragged breath broke from his partly open mouth like the sigh of an engine winding down。
For a long time Akiko stared down at him while all manner of thought flung itself like rain in her mind。 Then she withdrew her blade； seeing its long； gleaming length mirrored in his eyes。 She felt his terror and thought； There are no more warriors left in the world。
Then； with neat precise swipes of her katana； she cut off his feet。
When the long black Mercedes slid to a halt； the driver came around； opened the rear door； and Seiichi Sato emerged into a morning sparkling with dew。 There were two other men with him besides the chauffeur； as was the custom with all VIPs in Japan； he never went anywhere without them。 This time； though； he bade them stay where they were inside the car。
Alone； he walked slowly up the pine…needle…strewn path into the precincts of the Shinto shrine where he had gotten married。 This was part of his weekly pilgrimage。 If he was in Tokyo； no matter the weather； he would make the trek to the lakeside。
Far below him he could see the bright white dazzle of sunlight off the water through the thick stands of pines and cryptomeria。
On his way up to the inner sanctuary Sato passed beneath the crimson…lacquered Myojin torii gate and； just beyond； paused to drop something in the offering box。 Reaching just above it； he pulled the rope that rang the sacred bell which would awaken the resting kami who dwelled in this place and alert them of the presence of the arriving supplicant。
Inside the main sanctuary building； Sato knelt before the tables laden with offerings。 Grouped around the tables were carved figures of sitting archers； spearmen； samurai wielding katana。
Before the closed doors of the inner chamber wherein the kami resided stood the Gohei； a wooden wand with bits of folded paper hanging in zigzag fashion from it。 Beside it was the Haraigushi； the purification wand； a small branch from the sacred sakaki tree。
Above； banners depicting the clouds and the moon hung； indicating the presence of the kami。 Draped from one of the standards which held the banners was a brocaded cloth in which were hung the sword and jewels as well as the shield and halberd of the shrine。 These were symbols both of the power of the kami in matters of wisdom and justice； and of protection against evil。
Centered directly below the banners on the table was the sacred mirror which was perhaps the most important and certainly the most mysterious element in the Shinto religion。 It was thought to reflect the cleanest light； to be able to reflect everything as it truly is and not how we would wish it to be。
Did not the Jinno Shotoki say that 〃the mirror hides nothing。 It shines without a selfish mind。 Everything good and bad； right and wrong； is reflected without fail。〃 Was not the Sun Goddess's divine spirit captured in just such a mirror hung outside her cave。
Now Sato knelt before the mirror and； peering into its keen eye； was bathed in its clear light。 And as he did so he wished for peace of mind and spirit； he wished for the deep and abiding sanctuary of thought symbolized by the gleaming lake far below。 He summoned up the kami。
In moments； a peculiar kind of peacefulness stole over him that he had bee accustomed to from his earliest days。 And he felt as if a connective bridge had been spun out of the ether between his essence and that of his honored father。 The elder Sato had e to this shrine almost every day of his life； and when Seiichi was old enough to walk his father had taken him； along with Gotaro。
Even as a young child Seiichi had been enraptured by this place。 While his older brother had fidgeted and yawned by his side； Seiichi had begun to feel the presence of the place steal over him like a mantle of refracted light from the mirror。
And when his honored father had died； he had made his own pilgrimage after the funeral rites here； down the narrow rocky path which he and all the guests at his second wedding descended many years later； to the shore of the lake。 Mist was still rising off it then so that it appeared as it must have eons ago at the dawn of Japanese history； prehistoric and pure。
It was only as he stared at the gently rippling skin of the lake that Seiichi had reconnected wi