Black Lotus

37

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 Zōjō 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 orphanages. The orphans 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!”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I thought I could be brave, but I was so scared.” Overcome by emotion, Midori confessed what she’d never intended Hirata to know: “I did it to get your attention. I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”

“Midori-san.” Hirata grasped her shoulders. “Listen.”

Gulping back a sob, Midori looked up at his face. The concern and warmth she saw there startled her.

“You were clever and brave,” Hirata said, his voice rough with sincerity. “You got inside the temple when professional spies had failed. You risked your life to find evidence against the Black Lotus. Of course you were scared; who wouldn’t have been? But you endured your fear. You survived.”

Suddenly shy, he released Midori and stammered, “What I wanted to tell you is that-even though I would have stopped you from going if I could have-and I hate that you suffered-I admire you.”

“You do?” Midori stared, confused. “But I don’t deserve your admiration. I was such a fool to get caught.”

“No, no.” Hirata waved his hands in eager contradiction. “You weren’t caught because you’re a fool. You were caught because you’re good and kind. You couldn’t leave that girl Toshiko in danger, and I think you would have tried to save her even if you’d guessed she was a spy. “ He bowed his head, mumbling, “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve your admiration.”

Rain spattered through the trees. Hirata hurried Midori into the pavilion that had sheltered them from another storm two years ago. Side by side, hands clasped, they watched the rain, as they’d done then. Midori’s heart raced with the same anticipation.

“It’s I who should apologize to you-for the way I’ve treated you,” Hirata said humbly. “I was the fool, to throw away your friendship, and to think that all those other women mattered, or that moving up in society was so important. Now I know there’s no one else in the world who would do for me what you would. When I found out you’d gone to the temple and hadn’t come back, I realized-”

Turning to her, he said in an ardent voice, “How much I love you.”

Midori felt a radiant smile erase the misery from her face. Her tears spilled, for joy.

“Then it’s not too late?” Hirata said, gazing hopefully at her. “You still care for me?”

Midori blushed and nodded. Hirata’s face brightened. The rain streamed down, blurring the world outside the pavilion. Then Hirata turned serious.

“I want us to be together always,” he said.

Too shy to echo his bold declaration, Midori signaled her agreement with an adoring glance and heartfelt smile. But a marriage between them required their families’ approval. “What shall we do?” she whispered.

Hirata tightened his warm grip on her hand. “Whatever it takes,” he said.

Alone together in the nursery, Sano and Reiko sat facing each other. The distant sound of Masahiro’s laughter emphasized the uncomfortable silence between them. Reiko, rigid with apprehension, braced herself for recriminations. She deserved punishment for her mistakes, and for her disobedience to Sano. It was his right to divorce her and send her away from Masahiro if he chose. That he hadn’t yet done so might only mean he’d been too busy working. Fearing heartbreak, she waited with dread to learn her fate, just as she’d waited for the past four days.

She’d spent that time going through the motions of domestic life. For Masahiro’s sake she’d tried to act as if nothing had happened, while the unfinished business from the investigation hovered over her like a storm cloud. She felt suspended in time, still caught up in the horror of her experience at the temple. Her mind was a shifting collage of terrible scenes-savage nuns and priests, bloody corpses, flashing blades, fire, dim tunnels, and Anraku slain by her hand. But the image of Haru’s death was more vivid, more persistent than any other.

Even now, with her future threatened, Reiko couldn’t forget Haru. The girl’s spirit was still here between Reiko and Sano, a haunting reminder of Reiko’s errors of judgment, a debt unpaid, and a relationship severed without conclusion.

“It’s natural to grieve for her,” Sano said quietly.

Reiko was surprised that he’d guessed she was thinking of Haru, and that she mourned the girl. Though still fearful, she drew cautious hope from Sano’s apparent sympathy. “But Haru was a selfish, immoral person. Why should her death haunt me more than all the others?” Reiko lifted empty hands. “Why do I miss her?”

“Because you were her friend. And she proved herself yours in the end.”

“How did you know?” Reiko said, puzzled; she hadn’t told Sano about Haru’s choice.

“When I interrogated Abbess Junketsu-in, I learned that you’re alive because of Haru,” Sano said. Irony tinged his faint smile. “To think that after I worked so hard to convict her, she did me a great favor.”

His implication set Reiko’s heart racing. She murmured,”Was it a favor?”

Sano’s expression turned tender. Wordless communication crumbled a barrier, filling Reiko with relief and joy. Difficulties still precluded complete reconciliation, but now Reiko had the courage to confront them.

“You were right all along to believe that Haru was dishonest,” she said. “I regret all that I said and did to hurt you. Please accept my apologies.”

“If you’ll accept mine,” Sano said with equal, pained contrition. “You were right that Haru didn’t kill Chie or the boy, or set the fire. I should have heeded your suspicions about the Black Lotus sooner, instead of concentrating so hard on her. I drove you to protect her.”

Humbled by his honesty, Reiko said, “But she was manipulating me, just as you thought.” Even as she acknowledged Haru’s fault, sorrow for the girl overwhelmed her.

“It turned out to be a good thing that you did form a bond with Haru,” Sano pointed out. “Her feelings for you saved your life, and Midori’s.”

His willingness to assuage her humiliation didn’t excuse her other mistake. “I let Midori see how much I wanted a spy in the temple. I should have guessed she would go, and I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to her,” Reiko said.

As Sano’s features clouded, despondency undermined her happiness at discovering that their love had survived. Certainly her lapse of caution regarding Midori had cost her the privilege of ever again participating in investigations.

Then Sano said grimly, “Midori is alive. But Minister Fugatami, whom I might have helped, was murdered. As was his wife. And their children are orphans.”

They sat in shared self-recrimination until Sano said, “The worst of our problems wasn’t that you made mistakes or that I did, but that we worked against each other. No good will come of accepting blame unless we learn from our experience and do better next time.”

“Next time?” Reiko thought she hadn’t heard him right. Doubt vied with excitement. “Do you mean… you still want my help, after what happened?”

“A few days ago I would have said no,” Sano admitted. “But I’ve come to understand that I’m no less susceptible to bias than you, and my errors can have serious consequences, too. I need someone to oppose me when I’m too quick to draw conclusions.” He said with a wry smile, “Who better than you?”

Reiko beamed at him, savoring the exhilaration of wishes fulfilled, harmony restored. Bad memories began to pale in the light of her happiness, and Sano looked less exhausted. Perhaps their partnership would be better for accommodating differences of opinion; perhaps someday the thought of Haru would cease to torment her. But experience had taught Reiko caution. There would be other suspects, other disagreements.

“Can we prevent a future investigation from dividing us again?” she said.

Sano took her hands in his. “We can pledge to try our best.”

The warm contact with her husband stirred in Reiko a powerful sense of all they’d experienced together during their marriage-the dangers faced and surmounted, the birth of Masahiro, the love for each other and their child that had sustained and gladdened them. She felt Sano’s strength and hers join to meet the challenges yet to come.

“And we shall succeed,” she said.