Black Lotus

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Suddenly Haru’s growl erupted into a loud roar. She whirled, swinging the sword around. The blade cut Dr. Miwa deeply across the stomach. Uttering a cry of dismay, he clutched the bleeding wound. Junketsu-in screamed. Reiko gaped in stunned disbelief. Shock and anger erased Anraku’s smile. He barked out, “Haru!”

  Shrieking as if insane, the girl spun and lunged, slashing at random. The priests shouted, “Look out!” They scattered, bumping one another, trying to avoid Haru.

  “Stop her,” Anraku ordered.

  Kumashiro let go of Reiko, drew his short sword, and charged after Haru. Reiko hurriedly crouched beside Midori and shook her. “Midori-san, wake up. We’ve got to get out.”

  “Reiko-san?” Midori mumbled sleepily. Opening bleary eyes, she frowned. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

  “Never mind.” Reiko hauled Midori upright. “Come on.”

  Supporting her friend’s limp, heavy body, she staggered toward the door. She, heard Anraku call, “Catch them!” Kumashiro turned, saw them, and swiftly blocked their way.

  “Put her down,” he said, pointing his sword at Reiko. “Stay where you are.”

  Reiko floundered backward, dragging Midori with her. Around them, Haru continued her rampage. Dr. Miwa lay dead on the floor next to Junketsu-in, who struck out her foot so that Haru tripped and went sprawling. The sword, knocked out of her hand, slid across the floor toward Reiko. Quickly, Reiko bent and snatched up the weapon.

  “Get out of our way,” she commanded Kumashiro.

  Then she heard shouts, metallic clashes, and a stampede of footsteps outside the room. Through the door burst six samurai battling as many sword-wielding priests. Reiko recognized Sano and his men. Her heart leapt with joy.

  “Hirata-san!” Midori cried.

  Hirata’s face lit up at the sight of Midori. He shouted her name, then continued striking at his opponents. As the room became a maelstrom of flashing blades and colliding combatants, Anraku stayed on his platform, watching with a peculiar euphoria. His eight priests fled out the door, while the abbess cowered in a corner. Kumashiro joined in the battle.

  “Reiko-san,” Sano shouted, dodging Kumashiro’s strikes. “Protect Midori.”

  Clutching her friend’s hand, Reiko wielded her sword against the priests, while Midori huddled behind her.

  “Haru.” Anraku’s voice, eerily calm, rose above the noise.

  The girl was scrambling for cover, but she paused and turned toward the high priest.

  “Come here,” Anraku said.

  She rose and walked to his platform. Her step was hesitant, but she seemed irresistibly drawn to Anraku.

  Sano cut down one priest and Hirata another. Four remained; the battle raged on. Reiko, guarding Midori, risked a glance at Anraku. What was he doing?

  “You have failed the test,” Anraku said to Haru, his silky tone replete with disapproval.

  “Please, give me another chance,” Haru begged.

  Anraku shook his head; his smile mocked her anxiety. “Your betrayals number too many for forgiveness. You must be punished.” Pointing at Haru and gazing deep into her eyes, he intoned, “I plant inside you the seed of the Black Lotus.”

  Haru pressed a hand to her abdomen, looking disturbed, as if she really felt something enter her body.

  Now Sano, Hirata, and the other samurai had slain all their opponents except Kumashiro, who fought ferociously. Junketsu-in dashed toward the door, but a soldier caught her.

  “The seed sprouts roots that invade you.” Spreading his fingers in illustration, Anraku elicited pained yelps from Haru. “The seedling sends forth shoots, filling your veins, entwining your bones, and piercing your muscles.”

  Haru began to tremble and moan; terror glazed her eyes as she clutched at herself, feeling for the alien growth.

  With amazement, Reiko saw that Haru believed so strongly in Anraku’s powers that the spell could physically hurt her. Reiko hurried the dazed Midori to a corner and sat her down. “Stay here,” she said, then rushed toward the platform.

  Anraku’s hypnotic voice continued, “The leaves unfurl, their knifelike edges tearing and penetrating, spilling blood. The stalk pierces your heart. A huge bud forms.”

  Haru grabbed her chest, wheezing loudly. “It hurts. I can’t breathe!” she cried in panic.

  “The bud grows larger and larger,” Anraku said. His eye glowed brighter; his smile reflected enjoyment of her suffering.

  “It’s killing me.” Spasms jarred Haru, and her complexion turned livid. She dropped to her knees. “Please, take it out!”

  “Stop,” Reiko shouted at Anraku. Raising her sword, she ordered, “Leave Haru alone.”

  The high priest ignored Reiko. “Feel the lotus bud begin to flower,” he told Haru. “The petals are pure black and razorsharp. As they spring open, they lacerate your heart.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Reiko saw Sano’s blade cut deeply into Kumashiro’s thigh. The priest stumbled and sank to his knees. With his face set in a scowl of desperation and the cut spurting blood, he lashed his blade at the samurai surrounding him, until Hirata wounded his arm. His sword went flying. Sano and Hirata wrestled him down.

  Frantically gasping for air, Haru sobbed. “I’ll die!”

  “That is the fate of enemies of the Black Lotus,” Anraku said, gloating. He extended his fists, knuckles facing Ham. “When the flower reaches full bloom, your life shall cease.”

  Reiko grabbed Haru’s shoulder, urging, “Look away. Don’t listen. He’s a fraud. He can’t hurt you unless you let him.”

  But Haru’s gaze seemed magnetically locked onto Anraku’s. Keening in agony, the girl clawed open her robe, trying to tear the flower out of her chest. Her fingernails left bloody scratches on her skin. Reiko leapt up on the platform.

  “Stop, or I’ll kill you!” she told Anraku.

  “Your time has come,” he said with a triumphant smile at Haru.

  His fingers shot open. Haru screamed, as if pierced by invisible blades. Her back arched and her limbs splayed. Incensed, Reiko slashed Anraku down his chest. He lurched, then crumpled onto his side. His face was luminous with rapture, his eye focused on some faraway vista.

  “Enlightenment at last,” he whispered.

  A spasm contorted his features and body. His radiance dimmed, and death veiled his eye. Anraku had met the destiny he’d prophesied.

  Reiko dropped the sword and leapt off the platform. “Haru-san .” Kneeling, she touched the girl’s cheek. “What’s happened to you?”

  No answer came. Haru’s open eyes were sightless; blood trickled from her mouth. Gravity relaxed her features, and her terrified expression faded as Reiko watched. She was dead.

  A terrible grief seized Reiko as she cradled Haru’s head in her lap. The girl had remained in the thrall of the Black Lotus and ultimately succumbed to Anraku. They had indeed shared a destiny; they would be together always, as she’d wished. But Haru had chosen friendship for Reiko over her devotion to the high priest. By saving Reiko’s life at the expense of her own, she’d atoned for her evils. And Reiko hadn’t even had a chance to thank Haru. Now it was too late.

  It was too late for all the disturbed souls who’d fallen under the influence of the Black Lotus and died tonight.

  Suddenly overwhelmed by the horrors of the day, Reiko sobbed. Nearby, she saw Hirata embracing Midori, but there was no consolation for herself.

  Then Reiko felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Sano standing beside her. His eyes were filled with a compassion for her that she’d thought gone forever. He drew her to her feet and held her close. As she wept against the hard plates of his armor, he led her out of the room.

  37

  In the age that will follow the passing of the Bodhisattva of

  Infinite Power,

  His disciples will turn the wheel of his truth,

  Beat the drum of his truth,

  And sound the conch trumpet of his truth,

  Until he manifes
ts himself to the world again.

  —FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA

  “Priest Kumashiro, I pronounce you guilty of multiple assaults and murders,” said Magistrate Ueda.

  It was the end of the fourth day of the Black Lotus trials. The magistrate sat with Sano, Hirata, and the secretaries on the dais in the Court of Justice. On the shirasu knelt Kumashiro and Junketsu-in, their wrists and ankles shackled. The priest glowered; the abbess hung her head and sniveled. A large audience of officials filled the room behind them.

  “Abbess Junketsu-in,” the magistrate said, “I pronounce you guilty of arson.” His stern gaze rebuked the defendants. Both had confessed after Sano had interrogated them and witnesses from among the captured sect members had testified against them. Kumashiro had admitted murdering Chie, Radiant Spirit, and Pious Truth and his sister Yasue, among many others. “I pronounce you both guilty of harmful religious practices and conspiracy to destroy Edo and massacre the citizens. You are hereby sentenced to death by decapitation.”

  Guards dragged the pair out of the building. Junketsu-in wept; Kumashiro scowled. The crowd that had occupied the street outside Magistrate Ueda’s estate since the trials had begun greeted them with angry jeers, curses, and waving fists. The weather had turned cold and stormy, but the victims of Black Lotus attacks and the families of abducted, enslaved, and murdered followers had stayed to see justice done.

  In the court, the audience and secretaries had departed. Sano, Hirata, and Magistrate Ueda lingered inside the doorway.

  “This is a sorry business,” the magistrate said. “I hope that a disaster of such magnitude never happens again.”

  The death toll from the battle at the temple numbered six hundred forty Black Lotus members and fifty-eight of Sano’s troops. A later search of the tunnels had turned up the ashes and bones of countless cremated bodies. And two hundred ninety captured sect members had been executed.

  “Still, it could have been worse,” Sano said. “My men captured most of the fugitives near Zj Temple, and the police have caught more on the outskirts of Edo. Hopefully, that’s all there are.”

  He heard the hollow note in his own voice. The experience had left him drained and shaken. Memories of the carnage robbed him of appetite and sleep. He didn’t know the identities of the people he’d slain, and it bothered him that he could take lives and not know whose, or how many. Yesterday he’d attended a mass funeral for his retainers killed in the battle; he mourned their deaths. He’d solved the murder case and eliminated a threat to the nation, but he had no sense of accomplishment, despite the shogun’s praise of his valor. And his difficulties with Reiko were still unresolved.

  Busy from dawn until late at night every day, interrogating captured sect members, testifying at their trials, and supervising the dismantling of the Black Lotus Temple, he’d hardly seen his wife since he’d brought her home from the temple. Reiko had told him some of what had happened in Anraku’s hideout before his arrival there, but otherwise, they’d barely spoken.

  “There have been a few minor fires, but no explosions or instances of poisoning,” Hirata said. He wore the same haunted look as did all Sano’s men who’d survived the raid. “And many innocent people have been saved.”

  After the battle, Sano’s troops had escorted home to the city the two hundred thirty-four prisoners they’d liberated. A hundred fifty children found underground had been returned to their families or placed in orphanages. The two sons of Minister Fugatami now resided with relatives.

  “The shogun has issued an edict outlawing the sect,” Sano said. “Lady Keisho-in has, on the advice of Priest Ryuko, denounced the Black Lotus. And with Anraku dead, there seems little chance of its revival.” Whether or not the high priest had really possessed supernatural powers, Reiko had rid the world of a great evil. “Tokugawa troops have occupied the temple, confiscated Anraku’s gold, and begun demolishing the buildings and filling in the tunnels. And the bakufu will conduct more rigorous monitoring of other religious orders in the future.”

  Yet Sano bitterly rued that the shogun had waited so long to quell the Black Lotus. He also wondered how much of the blame he himself deserved for the disaster. If he had believed Reiko when she’d told him Pious Truth’s story, could the sect have been disbanded sooner and peacefully?

  He would never know.

  “How does the elimination of Black Lotus influence from within high levels of society progress?” said Magistrate Ueda.

  “Kumashiro and Junketsu-in have revealed names of bakufu officials who belonged to the sect,” Sano said. Among them was his own Detective Hachiya, who’d betrayed the spy team he’d sent to the temple. “Some had joined Anraku’s army and have turned up among the captured priests, or the dead. The survivors included the men who murdered the Fugatami. They’ll all be allowed to commit seppuku. Others who didn’t directly participate in the attack will be exiled.” A quiet purge had already begun in Edo Castle. “We’ve also gotten names of Black Lotus followers among the daimyo, merchant, and lower classes.”

  “I am prepared to conduct as many more trials as necessary,” Magistrate Ueda said, resigned.

  The process of meting out justice to the Black Lotus seemed endless. Disheartened by the thought of all the work that was yet to be done, Sano said, “Hirata-san and I must be going. We have a jail full of prisoners to interview.”

  They’d already spent many hours questioning the captured priests and nuns, who numbered so many that they’d overflowed the jail cells and had been housed in tents in the compound. Day and night they chanted, “Praise the glory of the Black Lotus.” So far none of them had shown remorse for the attack. All refused to accept the fact that Anraku was dead, and all still believed themselves destined for glorious enlightenment. Interrogating them, Sano had looked into souls consumed by fanaticism—Anraku’s legacy. The experience unnerved Sano, and he longed for it to be over.

  “May I offer a word of advice?” Magistrate Ueda asked. At Sano’s nod, he said, “Please spare the time to take care of matters at home. You’ll be better off for it.”

  Trepidation daunted Sano, but he nodded, because he knew the magistrate was right. It was time for a talk with Reiko.

  At Sano’s estate, Midori sat in the nursery, watching Reiko and the maids give Masahiro his supper. The room was bright with lanterns; charcoal braziers warmed the chill, damp twilight. Masahiro gobbled rice gruel and chattered happily.

  “That’s a good boy.” Reiko smiled at her son. “Eat plenty. Grow big and strong.”

  Midori, who had received permission from Sano and Lady Keisho-in to stay in the mansion for as long as she needed to recuperate from her ordeal, tried to enjoy the cozy, familiar scene, but a restless melancholy disturbed her spirit. Everything looked the same as before the fire and murders at the Black Lotus Temple, yet so much had changed.

  Reiko and Sano seemed permanently divided. Midori knew that Reiko was upset about this and the disaster at the temple, although she put on a cheerful front. And Midori herself had lost her usual brightness of outlook and buoyancy of heart. After meeting Anraku, after seeing what he’d done to people and made them do for him, the world seemed a darker place. Midori now knew herself to be susceptible to evil influences—and death. Worse, she hadn’t even accomplished the purposes that had driven her to spy on the sect.

  Sano had told her that she needn’t bear witness against the Black Lotus because the war at the temple had provided the shogun enough proof of its evil to disband the sect. Thus, Midori had been spared the public disgrace of telling about her experiences in the temple and her reputation saved from scandal. Yet she regretted that her suffering had been in vain, and she’d helped Reiko not at all. And Hirata had been too busy to see her during the time since he’d brought her here from the temple. Because of the drug given her there, Midori had little recollection of that night. She thought she remembered Hirata hugging her and exclaiming, “Thank the gods you’re alive!” But maybe it had been a delusion. Certainly,
she was as far from winning Hirata as ever.

  As Midori tried to feel glad to be alive and forget her ordeal, she heard footsteps in the corridor. Sano and Hirata appeared in the doorway. Midori’s heart began hammering in painful, joyous agitation that she hid by casting her eyes downward. Masahiro called out gaily to his father, but an uneasy silence descended upon everyone else.

  Reiko spoke first. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

  “Yes, well.” Obviously at a loss for words, Sano hesitated.

  The maids gathered up Masahiro and left the room. Hirata said in a somber voice, “Midori-san, will you come for a walk with me?”

  Wild hope leapt in Midori, but she was so nervous that she could barely look at Hirata. She murmured, “All right. Let me put on my outdoor things.”

  Soon she was walking beside Hirata along a path through the garden. They looked at the ground instead of at each other. Murky clouds in the twilight sky promised more rain; lights from the house shone through the sodden trees. Trembling with love and anxiety, Midori clasped her hands tightly under her sleeves.

  “How are you feeling?” Hirata asked. He’d lost his cockiness; he sounded young and uncertain.

  Midori drew a calming breath of moist, pine-scented air. “Much better, thank you.”

  They walked for a while without speaking. Hirata picked a leaf off a bush and examined it studiously. “About what you did at the temple …” he began.

  Desperate to forestall the humiliation of a scolding from Hirata, Midori blurted, “I know it was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone.” Her voice shook. “You were right—I was stupid to think I could be a detective.”

  Hirata halted, flung away the leaf, and faced Midori. “That’s not what I was going to say,” he said urgently.

  “I thought I was so clever, getting into the temple, but they only took me in because I’m the kind of person they wanted.” Midori had figured out that her simple, submissive, vulnerable nature had won her admission to the sect. “And they caught me before I could even report what I’d seen!”