Ingrid Parker - Rashomon Gate – A Mystery of Ancient Japan

Feeling lonely and dejected, he walked past them towards the house.

"Sir," cried Tora.

Akitada turned. Tora trotted up, brandishing a large, brightly painted umbrella.

"What do you want?" Akitada asked impatiently. "I am busy."

Tora's face fell. He stood, awkwardly opening and closing the umbrella. "I'm sorry. It's just… I thought I had better give you the message."

"Put that silly thing down! What message?"

Tora handed him the opened umbrella with a bow. "For you, sir."

Akitada kept his hands in his sleeves. "Don't be ridiculous! I could not use such a flamboyant piece of trumpery. Give it to your girl!" He turned away.

"In that case," said Tora, his voice stiff with hurt, "I think Mr. Hishiya was wise to leave before you got back. He was very proud of this umbrella. He stayed up all night and painted the pictures himself. Look! You can see every petal on the peonies and every feather in the phoenix's tail."

Akitada stopped and turned. "Hishiya? Oh, the dead girl's father! Let me see that again!" This time he took the umbrella, wincing a little as the rough handle scraped his barely healing palms, and studied the design and workmanship. "You are right. It is very fine. You will take Mr. Hishiya a gift in return. Seimei will have it ready in an hour. What did Mr. Hishiya say?"

"The police told him that you found Omaki's killer, and he wanted to thank you in person," Tora said accusingly. "But when he heard about the fire and the professor's death, he did not want to take up your time."

Akitada was ashamed. "He is a man of great courtesy," he said. "I am very sorry for my remarks about this umbrella." Akitada turned it dubiously in his hands. "It is indeed very… detailed. But it strikes me that it was you, Tora, who did all the hard work on the case. In fact, it was your case, not mine. And so the umbrella must rightfully be yours also." He returned it to Tora with a slight bow.

"Well…" Tora took the umbrella. "It is true that you did very little. As you say, I found all the clues." A slow smile spread over his face. "Right! This is just the thing for Michiko. I've been wracking my brains for something to give her for a present."

Akitada said, "Are you still seeing that little entertainer? Better watch your step. She may be no better than poor Hishiya's wife."

"Oh, Michiko is nothing like that one. And Hishiya got rid of his wife. Divorced her the day I told him I'd seen a customer waiting at his house." Tora added with a sly wink, "Imagine, the customer turned out to be one of Mrs. Hishiya's country cousins, and Mr. Hishiya objected to the generous way his wife was entertaining her relative!"

"You don't say!" Akitada exclaimed with a straight face. "All the more reason for you to accept the umbrella then. Mr. Hishiya is deeply in your debt."

The exchange with Tora had lifted Akitada's spirits a little. He felt able to deal with the many problems awaiting him. After giving instructions to Seimei about wrapping up a length of silk for Mr. Hishiya, he went to see his mother.

Lady Sugawara greeted him with outstretched arms. "My dear Akitada," she cried, "how are you feeling? And how are your hands?"

Akitada looked at her, surprised. "I am fine. I came to ask about Tamako, Mother."

His mother gave him a searching look. "She is calm. Seimei gave her some more of his tea to make her sleep last night and she looked much better this morning. I should have done the same with you. Come, sit down! You must have something to eat." Ignoring Akitada's protests, she clapped for Kumoi and told her to bring hot tea and some rice and vegetables.

Akitada sampled the food reluctantly, still awkward with the chopsticks, but after the first bite it tasted surprisingly good. His mother waited until he had finished before saying, "She plans to cut her hair and become a nun, you know."

Akitada stared, aghast, and stumbled to his feet. "Where is she?"

Lady Sugawara studied her fingernails. "She has your younger sister's room."

Akitada found Tamako alone, seated on the small veranda outside. She was dressed in the white robes of mourning, her hair very dark against the silk and her pale skin. He had expected dejection, violent tears, anger- he knew not what- but he found instead utter calm and composure.

"Akitada!" she said in her light voice, smiling a little. "I am so glad you came. Please sit down for a minute. I have to thank you for so many things. It was very kind of you to take care of the funeral and offer me shelter."

He remained standing. "My mother tells me you wish to renounce the world." His voice was harsh with emotion. "Is this true?"

She looked up at him calmly. "Yes, of course. It is the wisest thing to do under the circumstances. One of my father's cousins is a nun in Nara. I shall go to her."

"You are too young and beautiful to shut yourself away like that," Akitada cried angrily. "I won't permit it!" He corrected himself. "I mean, your father would not have approved."

"I think he would understand."

"No. You should marry. You could be my wife. That is what he wished."

She turned away then. Her slender hands twisted in her lap. "It is impossible."

"Why?" he cried, "Why can't you marry me, Tamako?"

She did not answer and kept her face turned from him. All the fears about his own inadequacy returned, and they were worse than before. How much she must detest him, if she could not even now accept the refuge he offered her from destitution and distress! "It is not impossible," he shouted. "It is you who are impossible!" With an incoherent cry, he turned and stormed away.

All the way to the university, he searched again for a rational explanation of Tamako's rejection of his offer. And as before, he found no answer other than that she must dislike him or his family. He set the students to reading a chapter in the Book of Documents and went to Hirata's room to sort through his belongings, working with feverish concentration to banish his despair.

Setting aside such personal things as his daughter might wish to have, he went on to sifting through Hirata's papers. There was much, the work of a lifetime. Not only had Hirata kept copious notes on legal matters, but he had preserved many of his students' papers. Akitada even came across one of his own efforts. Throughout the years of his teaching, Hirata had taken enormous and loving pains with his students. Often he had written appreciative comments on their papers. It seemed wrong to discard all that, but there was no point in saving any of them.

He turned to the books next, and it was here that he found the diary. It spanned the past year and contained small memos Hirata had written to himself about things he planned to do that day. Akitada turned to the final entry, made the last time Akitada had seen Hirata, the day he had decided to go with Nishioka instead of speaking to his old friend.

Hirata had written, "I think A. is still angry with me over the matter of the examination. Poor Tamako. My conscience will give me no peace until I make one more effort to set things right. An announcement that a mistake has been made and that the poor dead boy should have won would at least please his family."

Akitada laid the journal down with a shaking hand. It confirmed his dreadful suspicion. He wondered if Hirata had wanted to consult him before taking a dangerous step. What if he had, in fact, started to "set things right"?

Tucking the journal into his sleeve, Akitada went to dismiss the students early. Then he walked to the ruins of the Hirata house.

There was nothing left but charred timbers. A single fireman was raking apart the debris of the main house. Akitada picked his way to where Hirata's study had been.

"What are you looking for, sir?" the fireman asked, walking up.

"I was trying to see where the fire started."