Ingrid Parker - Rashomon Gate – A Mystery of Ancient Japan

The journey to the cremation grounds, to finish what the fire had started, passed like a dream, as insubstantial as the black smoke which rose from the pyre of the man who had been more of a father to him than his own father. Afterwards he spoke to no one and returned home to disappear again into his room, where he remained for another day and night, his mind caught either in memories of the past or images of the disaster, eating nothing and drinking only water.

On the fourth day after the fire, still in the midst of his paralyzing despair, a messenger arrived from the university. He delivered a note from Bishop Sesshin, which Akitada unfolded with fingers still painful from the burns.

It said simply, "You are needed."

Outraged, Akitada tore it up and reached for a sheet of paper to write his formal resignation from the university. But something, duty perhaps or the remembered faces of his students, or the sheer pain of holding a brush, nagged at him to go in person. He called Seimei and, with his help, washed, shaved and changed into a clean gray robe.

"Please eat some of this rice gruel," Seimei said, his voice low, as if he were addressing an invalid.

Akitada ignored him and left.

When he walked into the main hall of the school of law, he found it filled with students, Hirata's and his own. Only young Lord Minamoto, still residing at Akitada's house for the sake of his safety, was absent. The students sat gathered in a semicircle around the large figure of Sesshin. The bishop wore a gray robe with a black and white stole to signify his mourning. The students were in their usual dark gowns, but their faces were sad and many eyes were red from weeping.

"Welcome, my young friend," Sesshin greeted him, his voice rumbling. "We have been waiting for you. The students have talked to me about their memories of Professor Hirata, and I have told them that you were one of his special students once. Perhaps you will share some of your memories with us?"

Akitada glared at him. It was a dreadful request!

Cursing Sesshin in his heart, Akitada turned to the students. Ushimatsu was leaning forward slightly, his plain face filled with pity. Akitada looked at the others, wondering if his grief was so transparent to them all. There was Nagai, poor ugly Nagai, his eyes swollen with weeping and his mouth blubbering- at his age! He had not been this distraught in prison with a murder charge hanging over his head! But then Hirata had loved Nagai- like a son almost. Perhaps, not having had a son of his own, he had let his students fill that void. A new wave of misery washed over him. Hirata had loved them all, Akitada included! Tears dimmed the faces before him. He swallowed and tried to speak, but his throat closed up, leaving him mute. He made a helpless gesture to Sesshin, but the fat monk placidly nodded encouragement, pointing to a cushion by his side.

Akitada sat and somehow he found his voice, though later he could not recall what he had told the students. In a way, he had carried on a dialogue with himself about his life with Hirata. It had been a strangely purging experience, and he had wept. But he had found a measure of peace.

When he stopped, there was a long period of silence. Then Sesshin began to recite the soothing words of the Pure Land sutra. He closed by saying, "There is a difficult meditation practice in our religion, in which we submerge ourselves completely in nothingness. Only a few achieve success. But when we are successful, the mind is calm as the sea. Passion, hatred, delusion and sorrow fall away. False thoughts vanish completely. There are no pressures. We issue forth from our bonds and separate ourselves from all hindrances and cut off the foundations of our suffering. This is called entering Nirvana. It is a state of blessedness which can be achieved completely only through death. And it is where our dear friend now dwells forever."

There was the sound of soft sighs from the students, and then Sesshin arose, nodded to the students and to Akitada and walked out.

Akitada got up dazedly and followed. The old monk was waiting on the veranda, his hands on the railings and his eyes fixed on the roofs of the distant city. He did not turn as Akitada joined him.

"So many deaths," he said with a sigh, "in the midst of so much life." He gestured at the teeming city before them and back towards the lecture hall filled with quietly talking students. "I am forever reminded of the eight unavoidable sufferings: birth, old age, pain, one's own death, the death of a loved one, evil people, frustrated desire and lust. Sometimes I think I have had more than my share of all but one of them. Why are you so angry with me, my friend?"

"Your Reverence," Akitada said awkwardly, "I apologize for my unpardonable rudeness to you."

Sesshin's dark, liquid eyes passed over Akitada's face. "Never mind! I have been more foolish than you, and it is I who am in your debt. You opened your heart and home to a lonely child. Tell him from me to keep up with his studies."

Akitada stammered, "You know?"

Sesshin nodded. "I have had the boy watched since you came to warn me. My men reported that you took Sadamu away. They lost you briefly, but found your residence and verified that the boy was there." He added with a smile, "I hope he is not making a nuisance of himself?"

Akitada tried to control his amazement. "Not at all, but I wish we had known. We took him away secretly because Sadamu complained of two suspicious characters outside his dormitory. The one I saw was a vicious-looking brute, and Tora said the other fellow was smaller but the same type. We took them for Sakanoue's thugs."

Sesshin chuckled. "They have both been in my service for many years and, for all their looks, are quite gentle fellows. There was also a third man at the lecture hall to watch the boy during his classes. I should have told you."

Akitada felt foolish. "You could not have known that I would go to such lengths to meddle in your family affairs," he said contritely.

Sesshin sighed. "You did because I was negligent. I am grateful to you, you know."

Akitada hesitated, then said, "There are some new facts concerning your brother's death."

The bishop's face saddened again. "Not here and now," he said. "Come to me later." He bowed lightly and walked down the steps and across the courtyard.

Akitada returned to the students, realizing that he had changed his mind about resigning. Until new appointments were made, he would remain and cope with Hirata's pupils and his own. It would make up, in a small way, for his neglect of his old friend and mentor.

The students were subdued and grateful for his instruction. The concentration on the work took Akitada's mind off his grief until the bell sounded for their noon rice, and he was reminded to go home to check on his family, which was increased now by Tamako, her little maid and old Saburo, Hirata's servant.

Genba opened the gate to him. He was laughing at something and had a mouth full of food. His face fell and he swallowed when he saw Akitada, who caught a glimpse of rice cake in Genba's hand as it disappeared behind his back. Akitada gave him a nod and walked into the courtyard.

Tora and Hitomaro were sitting in the shade of the paulownia tree. When they saw him, they jumped to their feet. Both were dripping with sweat, and two long bamboo staves lay nearby. They had been practicing stick-fighting. Apparently Hitomaro had consented after all.

So! Life went on as usual for his staff. Akitada's resentment was mixed with a twinge of envy. He glowered, feeling an outsider in his own home, and it occurred to him that the services of Tora's new friends could now be dispensed with. He opened his mouth to tell them, when he saw Genba surreptitiously swallowing the rest of his cake and licking his fingers. He remembered then their desperate need and how Genba had offered to work for food, and he decided they could stay on for a few days and make themselves useful in his newly enlarged household. Though how he was to pay for the added expenses, he had no idea.