I. Parker - The Crane Pavillion

To their surprise, Akitada took this moment to mutter something. Both bent over him eagerly.

“What is it, Akitada?” asked Kobe.

“Sir, the superintendent is here,” said Tora.

It was no good. Akitada grimaced and groaned. His hands roamed about on the quilt that covered him, but he did not open his eyes. “So dark!” he muttered. They waited, but that was all.

“He spoke. That’s surely a good sign,” said Kobe.

“In a fever, people talk. It’s like dreaming. Or nightmares,” said Tora.

They fell silent again, but the patient said nothing else. After a while, Kobe got to his feet. “I must go. I promised. Don’t get up.” he said.

Tora nodded dully.

*

Kobe returned to headquarters before going on to the court hall. This time he found some news. Lieutenant Harada reported that one of the units dispatched to search for Kanemoto had picked up a lead and was following it.

It was good news, but not good enough. Kobe nodded, then changed into his official uniform and ordered a contingent of ten policemen to accompany him. He did not expect an unruly crowd, but it was as well to be prepared. Besides, he intended to make an entrance.

The trial had already begun. Judge Hirokane was addressing the defendant, who knelt below his dais. When Kobe marched in, his expression stern and businesslike, people started whispering. Hirokane rapped his baton. “Silence!” he shouted.

This made things worse, and some people could be heard shouting questions, while others pressed forward to see what was happening.

Kobe ignored the uproar of the crowd. Followed by his grim-faced constables, he stopped in front of the dais. The guards took a few steps toward him, then stopped, confused.

“What’s this?” shouted the judge. “Who dares interrupt these proceedings?”

Kobe turned a little to face both Hirokane and the crowd. “I am Lord Kobe,” he announced, “Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police. I have come to stop this trial.”

The crowd responded with shouts and applause. Hirokane pounded his baton. Both police and court room guards spread out to control the crowd. A measure of silence ensued.

Kobe continued, “The defendant is a blind woman called Sachi. She is wrongly accused of a crime committed by another. The guilty person has been arrested. I am here to see to it that Sachi is released. I call on Judge Hirokane to give the order.” He turned to look at the judge.

Hirokane was flushed with fury, but he straightened his features quickly. “This is against all protocol,” he shouted. “I object.”

The crowd roared its protest. Hirokane pounded his baton, and police and guards attempted to control matters.

As soon as it grew quiet again, the judge said, “All of you here are my witnesses that I had nothing to do with this. Let the superintendent and his men take the prisoner. I cannot refuse a police order, no matter how wrong or unlawful it is. I shall, of course, report this outrage to the Ministry of Justice.” With this, he gathered his robe about him, got up, and stalked out.

Kobe let his eyes roam over the crowd. He had not liked the judge’s quick capitulation. Yes, there were several officials present from two or three ministries. Hirokane had arranged for witnesses who would be certain to testify against him.

Biting his lip, he gestured to his men to take the chains off the defendant. He went himself to help her to her feet and reassure her.

“I came,” he said when he saw that she was trembling with fear. No wonder. She was blind and could not have known what was happening all around her.

She lifted her head toward him and gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Do you have a home?”

She nodded.

“Two of my men will take you there and find someone to stay with you. Don’t be afraid. It’s all over.”

She inclined her head. “I’m not afraid now that you are here.” She stood there quietly, waiting. Kobe saw again how lovely she was, and how young, and got the strangest feeling that she had just told him that she loved him.

Embarrassed by this thought, he looked up. The officials who had witnessed his release of the prisoner were leaving the hall. There was nothing left for him to do except to await his punishment. He hoped at least that his lie about having arrested the murderer would not remain a lie much longer and that Sachi would remain free.

Selecting two of his men, he sent them with her, telling them to make sure she was safe and had a friend with her. The crowd still hung about, watching avidly. Sachi walked away, holding the sleeve of one of the policemen, and people pressed closer, congratulating her, calling her blessed, and reaching out to touch her for luck. No defendant had ever been saved like this from such a dreadful fate.

He strove for patience. Dying was harder than anything he had ever done before. The long periods of pain and even longer stretches of feeling the fires of hell consuming him must be borne if he was to accomplish this final task. As soon as he prevailed, they would be together again.

Life, it is said, is but a bridge of dreams linking two eternal worlds. He had nearly crossed his bridge of dreams and would soon be with Tamako.

And with Yori and Seimei. What joy to see old Seimei again!

And so he was patient.

Sometimes he seemed to move along the dark path expeditiously, but then the voices returned. He tried to ignore them, but the devils with their knives started their work again, and pain racked him. At those times, he plunged into an abyss of terrors. The darkness was impenetrable, and he floundered about, calling Tamako’s name. But no answer came.

How much farther to the other side? When would he cross into that other land, the land of the blessed, the islands where Tamako dwelled?

In the end, he failed. The voices became louder and more insistent until they broke through the darkness and he woke to the dream again.

“Drink, sir!”

“Sir, can you hear me?

“Help me roll him over.”

That one brought back the pain, and he moaned.

“Sir, it’s the doctor. He’s taking a look at your wounds. It will be over in a moment.”

It was not over in a moment. The fools, he thought, they won’t let a man die in peace.

“How are you feeling, my friend?”

Someone was sobbing as he asked this stupid question that deserved no answer.

In the end, they left him alone, and he drifted off again.

*

The next time he woke to the sound of rain. It was a soothing sound, and he felt cool after the hellish fires he had passed through. He lay quite still, his eyes closed, and listened to the splashing of the water falling from the eaves to the boards of the veranda. Mingling with that louder music, was a distant soft watery gurgling, rippling, thrumming, and rushing. Steady rain pattered on the surface of the small pond, a million drips of water drummed on wet leaves and fell down to the earth, and the trees sighed with the pleasure of all this moisture.

Dreams are seductive, and so is life!

And he was thirsty.

After a moment’s hesitation, he opened his eyes. He was in his own room in bed. The light was dim, but that was because it was raining outside and all but one shutter was closed against the weather. The open shutter was in the far corner. Through the narrow aperture he could see a silvery light, the light of a cloudy day reflected in a million raindrops and watery surfaces. It shimmered and was beautiful.

But he was very thirsty, and reluctantly his eyes let go of the shimmering light to search for something to drink. There was nothing, and he was alone. Again after due consideration, he decided to call out. His voice was a mere croak, so weak it would not have alerted a dozing companion. He tried again, and some of the hoarseness improved but he was still too weak to make himself heard. Deciding he needed more rest, he went back to sleep.