Danjiro wanted the ghost galleon, and he had no idea how to find it. The pirate captain stood in a fishing town far from the sea he ruled, his purple coat stained with road dust, his white kabuki face paint cracked at the jaw. Sailors swore the phantom ship sailed the mists past the Ryukyu Islands. Then, in a dockside tavern, he had overheard something better: at certain seasons, the galleon docked inside the Sandanbeki sea cave. He had a lead at last. He only lacked the way there. At his heel trotted his tanuki, nose twitching, belly loud. The little beast had eaten nothing since dawn. It sniffed each doorway for udon, then looked up at Danjiro with wet, accusing eyes. Danjiro approached three fishermen mending nets. He drew himself up, hand on his katana, and struck a fierce pose. "Tell me the path to the Sandanbeki cave," he said. The oldest fisherman looked him over. Then he laughed. "A sea captain," he said, "asking landsmen for the shape of his own coast?" The others joined in. "You wear the hat and the pistols. Read your own waters, Captain. What business has a sea captain on dry land?" Heat rose under Danjiro's paint. He tried the fish sellers, then a rope maker, then two women hauling water. Each time the answer was the same. They pointed at his plumed hat and his heavy belt and laughed. A captain should know the tides. A captain should know every cave along the shore. Their laughter followed him down the lane. His tanuki had stopped following. Danjiro turned. The beast had climbed onto a noodle stall's counter and buried its snout in a customer's bowl. Broth flew. The cook swung a ladle. Danjiro lunged and snatched the animal off the counter, spilling coins from his coat to pay for the ruined meal. The cook stopped mid-shout. He stared at the tanuki, now slurping happily in Danjiro's arms. "That creature," the cook said slowly. "I have seen its twin." He wiped his hands. "An old woman lives past the last house. She keeps beasts like yours. She was born in a village beside the Sandanbeki cliffs. She knows every cave the tide will let you enter." Danjiro's grip tightened. "Where is she?" The cook pointed. "Follow the smell of her cooking. Your little thief already has." The tanuki wriggled free and ran, nose high, toward a thread of smoke rising past the last roof. Danjiro followed at a stride. The townsfolk had given him nothing but mockery. His hungry, thieving companion had given him a name and a direction. He reached the old woman's gate as she stepped out to see who disturbed her. She looked at the tanuki. Then she looked at the painted pirate behind it. "So," she said. "You've come about the cave."