by Ben Stevens
I say again that I was drowning in this… feeling, and…yes… liking it…
‘I’ll tell you the name, Kukai my love, and then you will know that I, at least, am keeping nothing from you,’ she whispered, her lips a tantalizing inch from my ear. ‘The name of the man your so-called master took from me was… Sesshu…’
That name! I should have leapt back at this confession, in shock and dismay. Sesshu, the evil former monk who’d come so close to destroying the Empress in The Empress and the Monk, and who’d then made a number of attempts upon my master’s life before causing tens of thousands of deaths in The Black Death…
But I did not leap back; instead I merely let out some of my held breath, as she sat back slightly.
‘So you see, Kukai, I have told you – everything. I have exposed my greatest secret and so left myself entirely… naked…’
My sight dimmed slightly, and then came defiantly back into focus. Her hand took the back of my head, drawing me towards her lips and –
Sweet oblivion…
There came suddenly a noise from the ceiling! Like something being dragged to one side. I looked up sharply; a square-shaped gap had appeared, a body now coming rapidly down into the room! I saw a red, panting face – a tall, thin young man, his eyes glaring with shock and disbelief.
‘No,’ blurted this young man. ‘No…! It is true what… everyone has been telling me… You are a… a demon…’
As though in some crazy dream, my master now appeared, also dropping down from this previously-hidden space above the wooden ceiling.
‘A little cramped, up there,’ he announced, a thin smile upon his face as he surveyed the woman who’d quickly moved to stand by the door of this room.
‘But at least being up there gave me and young Yuji Koike here the chance to hear all that you said to my servant... I believe Yuji has heard enough, to understand that he should break off his relationship with this woman with immediate effect?’
This last sentence was voiced as a question, asked directly to the young man. In reply, Yuji gave a wild yell and whipped out a knife out from inside his kimono. He moved rapidly towards the defenseless woman – but I was quicker. With both hands I reached up and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from stabbing her.
In the next instant my master wrapped his right arm around the young man’s neck, forcing him down to the floor. The knife dropped down beside him and I picked it up.
‘That is enough, young man – had you been successful in your objective just now, you would surely have been executed for murder…’ declared my master gravely.
Yuji nodded, gulping convulsively.
‘Yes, Ennin-sensei,’ he said at last, his voice a hoarse whisper. ‘Everything you have said has been the truth. I secretly packed the knife, maybe when your words caused me to at least begin suspecting the truth… And now I truly realize just what a… a complete fool I have been…’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ said my master easily. ‘I’m afraid such things are one of the trials of being young.’
‘Thank you, Kukai-san,’ said Mayumi Hata, those eyes meeting mine as she began to open the door. She appeared to have quite recovered from the shock caused by the sudden attempt on her life. ‘You saved me…
‘And, Ennin-sensei,’ she continued airily, ‘there are countless other silly boys with wealthy fathers. So, please don’t chalk this up as having been one of your greater victories…’
‘Believe me, I won’t,’ returned my master easily, as the young man named Yuji gave an outraged squeal at Hata’s words.
‘In any case,’ she said then, ‘we’ll meet again, one day…’
And with that, she was gone.
‘You may return home, Yuji, and be with your father,’ said my master, looking at the young man who was still wide-eyed and panting. ‘My best advice would be to put what has happened down to experience, and get on with the rest of your life.’
‘I am truly grateful, Ennin-sensei,’ breathed the boy at the same time as I slowly shook my head, like a man trying to regain his senses after a hard blow. ‘I was… hypnotized, surely…’
‘You weren’t the first,’ replied my master, his expression suddenly grim. ‘Nor, regrettably, will you be the last…’
5
‘…No,’ said my master, sometime later as we walked away from that town. ‘Hata-san will certainly find yet more victims – other men to use and then discard, through death itself if need be. But we have done as was requested, at least. Requested by that boy’s father, I mean – to save his only son.
‘Still, I have to say that this has hardly been one of the most satisfactory of cases…’
I was still feeling a little stunned, although below this there existed a simmering feeling of resentment towards my master.
‘You used me,’ I said slowly. ‘Used me as… bait.
‘Just as you also did, incidentally,’ I continued quickly, my indignation rising, ‘in that case I entitled The Geisha and the Vampire.’
‘Unfortunately, you are quite correct,’ returned my master, with a shrug. ‘But you remember in that case you entitled The Village of the Dead, how I also did the same thing myself – risking almost certain death in the process?
‘It is part and parcel of this life we lead, unfortunately… Anyway, please do not think even for a moment that I fail to regret such a thing – I mean, by having used you as this so-called ‘bait’, as you put it.
‘But for us to have had one chance in a hundred of saving that rich merchant’s son, it was essential that he should hear (unfortunately there was no way for him to also see, which would have been ideal) Mayumi Hata’s concerted attempt to weave her web around another victim – namely, you.
‘For what better a victim to use up and then possibly destroy than the servant of Ennin – that man she truly hates more than any other person on Earth?
‘In this way, at least, she would have achieved a partial feeling of revenge, at the fact that I was the one who sent Sesshu to meet his maker.’
‘You talk as if… as if she would have been successful, had you and that young man not suddenly descended from that hiding place above the ceiling,’ I muttered.
My master coughed.
‘It certainly sounded, at least, as though she was making just a little headway…’ he said delicately.
I merely looked at him, not trusting myself to speak.
At last, my master sighed and said –
‘I regret that I also used someone else. Namely Maho, that good-natured if spectacularly talkative woman who works at the inn called the Thousand Falling Blossoms. I romanced her some distance away from that inn, close to where she lives, so that Mata-san’s spies would not see me and perhaps realize the real reason for my attempted courtship.
‘That is, that Maho knew just where that ninja named Katsushika had once hidden himself. I managed to get her to reveal this fact, in between the assorted, lengthy accounts concerning her mother’s medical history…
‘Finally, I was able to confide in Maho that I wish to conceal myself and someone else up in that secret space in the inn’s roof – above that intimate room with the walls which feature such beautiful and intricate designs.
‘I arranged that Maho would let me know, as soon as Hata-san requested the use of it – as I knew she would, for the purpose of ‘entertaining’ you, once she thought that I was safely out of town for some time – and then I would quickly go up into that hiding space with young Yuji.
‘What a time I’ve had with that boy! He steadfastly refused to believe anything I told him, for several days on end. It was all lies; Mayumi Hata truly loved him and him alone; and so on… Finally he consented to come with me, quickly and secretly, when I received message (there in that place we’d gone to with Yuji’s father) from Maho that Hata-san had ordered the use of the inn’s top room that very evening.
‘Perhaps if Yuji was able to hear proof of Hata-san’s deceptive nature from her own lips, he
might at last consent to see reason – shocked into reality, as it were…
‘Fortunately, this proved to be the case – although the fact that this rather wet young man had secretly secreted a knife upon his person took me entirely by surprise.
‘You saved her life there, Kukai. There is no doubt about it. I was myself upon him after a moment – but within that moment, if you had not acted so instantly…’
It was my turn to be silent for a while.
‘…And that dish she once told her guests they would not dare cut?’ I said then, almost abstractly recalling what my master had told me some days earlier. ‘That is, during those parties she held following her husband’s death, when presumably she first met – Sesshu.’
‘Ah yes,’ nodded my master, that thin, somewhat whimsical smile again in place. ‘That so-called ‘dish’ was her, Kukai, lain upon a massive silver dish she’d had especially made, carried into the dining area by six servants. She was completely naked, her modesty preserved only by three separate, careful arrangements of fruit.
‘She has a certain wit, for all the darkness that is in her soul. Would you not agree?’
Inwardly, I recalled her voice, her touch, the redness of her lips and the gleam of her teeth…
And I’d saved her life.
Despite everything that Mayumi Hata (or Hata-san, as she was to my master – and did he even realize that he called her this himself?) was alleged to have done, I was glad of that.
And I recalled her last words, to my master –
We’ll meet again, one day…
I certainly hoped so.
The Patient Assassin
1
The monk was lying sprawled in front of the large golden statue of the Buddha, there in the main hall of the Temple of Eternal Light. Upon the dead monk’s face was an expression of absolute amazement, such as I have never seen before. There was no obvious cause of death, no wound or anything like that… Was it possible that some great shock could have caused his heart to stop beating? This was the only theory I could think of as I stood with my master, the head-priest and a senior monk, the four of us staring down at the corpse.
‘We’re fortunate that you happened to be in the vicinity, Ennin-sensei,’ declared the head-priest, who had a shrewd, slightly fox-like face. ‘I would not have troubled you, but for this remarkable expression we can plainly see upon Abe-san’s face.
‘He was getting on in years, and a little overweight,’ continued the priest. ‘So it is quite possible that his heart simply gave out, as he conducted the usual morning prayers by himself in this hall, lighting the incense sticks in front of the Buddha statue and so forth…
‘And yet, that face…’
The priest shook his head, his voice falling into silence.
‘It is a rather… striking… expression, that is true,’ said my master thoughtfully, as he continued to stare down at the dead monk.
The expression upon the corpse’s face made me think of the murdered monk we’d seen at the start of the adventure I entitled The Cursed Temple – but then, that monk’s expression had been one of the most disturbing, the most obviously horrorstruck, I have ever seen. (Later, I was to personally discover exactly what had caused such an expression – and so come close to dying through the sheer terror of it myself.)
But this monk’s expression… Well, it was, quite simply, just one of complete and utter surprise. Sheer amazement, if you will. Really, that is as best – as accurately – as I can describe it.
I again glanced around this hall. It was bright, the sunny day outside illuminating the closed windows of rice paper pasted upon thin wooden struts. The tatami mats were a light green color, and very clean. Several long, dark-purple futon mats were lain out in front of the life-size Buddha statue and the main altar, just behind the area where the dead monk lay. There had been some sort of big festival recently, so that fruit and white flowers were still piled up either side of the golden Buddha, which sat upon a large golden lotus leaf, its hands placed in its lap, the left hand over the right.
All in all, this was very far from being like some of the old, gloomy temple halls my master and I had previously had cause to visit. There where the golden statues were dull with age, unpolished and only partially illuminated by the candles burning nearby. The dark, smoky beams of timber and the worn, yellowing tatami…
No, this temple hall was entirely different. Well-maintained, bright and – fresh, is as best as I can describe it. In some of those other temple halls, such as I have just attempted to describe, one could possibly imagine something lurking in the shadows; something that might somehow have caused this monk’s death.
But here…
Here there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
‘There is nothing I can say,’ said my master then, almost echoing my own thoughts. ‘Except…’
‘Except, Ennin-sensei?’ prompted the fox-faced priest.
‘Well,’ sighed my master, ‘maybe I should examine this monk’s – that is, Abe-san’s – body, before it is taken away… This might serve to throw up some possible explanation as to the cause of death… Really, it is all I can suggest…’
‘We are in your hands, Ennin-sensei,’ returned the priest, the senior monk nodding his head in agreement.
My master knelt down, and closely scrutinized the monk’s face and neck. The eyes were wide open, but still somehow rather ‘hooded’ in appearance. Then my master took hold of one of the hands – the left. He pulled it out from under the body, under the area of the heart, and so exposed the fact that the little finger was missing, down to the first knuckle.
‘Did Abe-san ever explain what happened here?’ asked my master, glancing up at the priest.
I watched that man’s expression closely, but nothing was betrayed as he gave a slight shrug, stating –
‘Yes, he did. Soon after he joined the Temple of Eternal Light, some eight years previously…’
‘Ten, Jushoku,’ said the senior monk quietly, addressing the priest by the appropriate title. ‘It was ten.’
‘Quite,’ continued the priest. ‘Anyway, he said that he’d once been bitten by a snake, and that this bite had quickly gone bad. That is, in order to save the hand – and ultimately Abe-san’s life – it had been necessary to amputate that finger.’
‘Yes,’ nodded my master. ‘That would seem a feasible explanation. And yet…’
With these words, he quickly pulled the corpse’s right arm partially free of the kimono, thereby exposing a tattoo of a red dragon upon the bicep. The colors were dull, something which served to show that the tattoo had been done many years before, when the dead monk had still been a young man.
The priest exhaled a low breath, as the senior monk’s eyes widened in amazement.
‘I assure you, Ennin-sensei, that this is the very first time I have ever seen that,’ he declared. He paused, clearly trying to think of the right words to say, and then continued –
‘We here at the Temple of Eternal Light always wear the appropriate, full kimono, and we do not bathe together. So I would not have had any opportunity to see this tattoo before…’
‘And if you had…?’ said my master quietly.
‘Then I may very well have refused this monk admittance into my temple,’ returned the monk firmly. ‘Let us not beat around the bush here. This is a tattoo of the type sported by these so-called ‘Crazy Ones’, who revel in committing all sorts of violence – murder, even. I am partially aware (who is not?) of the punishments meted out to its members for a variety of ‘crimes’ – such as failing to properly carry out the orders of a ‘boss’ or senior member – which commonly include self-amputation of a finger.
‘So,’ finished the priest, ‘you may say that I no longer believe that story of an infected snakebite being the cause of the loss of his little finger…’
‘Abe-san – but this was perhaps not his real name – was once a member of the Crazy Ones; that much, at least, seems certain,’ declared my
master. ‘At some point he had a change of heart – or maybe had reason to flee that large group, subsequently forced to also go into hiding from them – and so covering up his tattoo, and inventing a story for his missing finger, he commenced training as a Buddhist monk, ultimately being accepted to work at this temple.’
‘Nothing in the way he spoke ever betrayed such a background, Ennin-sensei,’ said the senior monk. He was somewhat shorter than the priest, and had a wide, honest face. ‘The Crazy Ones, I know, have that abhorrent slang of theirs; a way of talking which at once identifies them as being a member of that feared, lawless gang as effectively as their hairstyle or tattoos…
‘But Abe-san was a very quiet, gentle man, fond of praying and meditating by himself. Indeed, that is why we often had him perform the short service in this hall each morning, before the Buddha statue – because he clearly enjoyed just such a duty.’
‘Always on his own?’ asked my master.
‘Well, yes,’ returned the senior monk immediately. He looked a little bemused, as if the answer was obvious. ‘If it was not Abe-san then it was one of the other two monks, or on occasion me.’
‘But not you, Jushoku,’ declared my master.
The priest shook his head.
‘Such duties are more the responsibility of those of a less senior position, if I may be excused any unintentional arrogance,’ he said dryly.
‘Quite,’ said my master. ‘So, here was this man, a former member of the Crazy Ones, who had for whatever reason turned his back on such a life, instead disguising his past as he became a monk at the Temple of Eternal Light, inventing a story for the missing little finger – self-amputated for some digression – and always ensuring that he kept his dragon tattoo (which is not overly large, in any case) covered up.
‘And now he lies dead, here in this bright hall before this golden statue of the Buddha, with this remarkable expression of amazement still upon his face…’
