Within two years of his arrival at the temple, Dr. Miwa was dividing his time between the hospital and the subterranean laboratory. Above-ground, he treated the sick; below, he worked on experiments for the Black Lotus’s day of destiny and tortured disobedient sect members. He found that causing pain aroused him sexually. He could never return to normal life because the temple was the only place where he could have everything he needed. But now the specter of the monk Pious Truth shadowed his memory. Dr. Miwa knew he was not exempt from similar treatment, should he displease Anraku. He watched the novices, all of them healthy and robust, and he couldn’t bear to wait and see if the second formula worked.
“I shall test the last formula now,” he said.
Under the daunting scrutiny of his colleagues, Dr. Miwa mixed the potion and took it to the third novice. He was fifteen years old, plump with baby fat. He drained the cup, exclaiming, “Praise the glory of the Black Lotus!”
Suddenly his face flushed crimson. His eyes became wide and blank; he swayed. His words blurred into an incoherent babble.
“The formula is working,” Dr. Miwa said, filled with relief and jubilation.
The novice began shaking violently. While his comrades chanted, he retched, vomiting bile. Its sour stench tainted the air. He collapsed in a fit of convulsions.
“I see the Buddha. I see the truth,” he murmured. Awe veiled his gaze. He gave a final shudder, then lay still. Dr. Miwa crouched, examined the novice, and looked up at Anraku. “He’s dead.”
Anraku beamed, illuminating the room as if the sun had penetrated the earth. “Good work,” he said. Kumashiro nodded in grudging approval; jealousy narrowed Junketsu-in’s eyes. “We shall be well prepared to meet our destiny.”
Anraku glided soundlessly from the laboratory. At Dr. Miwa’s orders, the surviving novices carried the corpse away to the crematorium. Their chanting faded down the tunnel. Kumashiro and Junketsu-in lingered.
“Congratulations,” Kumashiro said to Dr. Miwa in a sardonic voice. “It seems you’re good for something besides gratifying yourself with other people’s pain.”
How like Kumashiro to spoil his triumph, Miwa thought bitterly as the priest left the room. Kumashiro was like Commander Oyama. The commander had been another arrogant, forceful man who enjoyed tormenting the weak. He’d come to the temple seeking a spiritual remedy for stomach pains, and Dr. Miwa had cured him, but Oyama gave the credit to Anraku while mocking Miwa and treating him as a mere lackey. Miwa rejoiced that Oyama had been punished for his cruel ingratitude. If only Kumashiro would die, too.
Abbess Junketsu-in said snidely, “Lucky for you that the formula worked. Anraku-san told me yesterday that after what happened in Shinagawa, he would give you one more chance, and if you failed again…”
Arching her painted brows, she let the unspoken threat hang in the air. Dr. Miwa gazed at her in helpless fury. She always flaunted her intimacy with Anraku and aggravated Miwa’s insecurities. He despised her even more than he did Kumashiro because he wanted her so badly.
“Shinagawa was just an experiment,” Dr. Miwa huffed. “Trial and error are necessary to scientific progress.” He busied himself arranging jars of chemicals on his workbench. “You will please leave. I have things to do.”
“Indeed. Your other formulas aren’t working out very well, are they? Especially the one that exploded accidentally and destroyed Anraku’s temple in Shinagawa.” Junketsu-in laughed, then sidled near Dr. Miwa. “Why do you pretend you don’t like me when we both know better?”
He smelled her musky perfume, felt the warmth of her body. Hot, unwelcome desire suffused him. Memories of other times like this roiled in his mind. Working day after day with Nurse Chie, he’d longed for her even as he saw revulsion in her eyes. She, like Junketsu-in, had aroused him without any intention of satisfying his longings. Now Junketsu-in raised her hand to his face and brushed her sleeve against his cheek.
“Be nice to me, and maybe I’ll put in a good word for you with Anraku-san,” she said, tittering.
She wouldn’t touch her bare skin to him, not even to tease! The insult enraged Miwa. Chie hadn’t wanted physical contact with him, either; she’d repelled his advances. She’d also threatened him and the whole sect. She, like Oyama, had deserved to die. Dr. Miwa’s anger exploded.
“Leave me alone!” he shouted, lashing out his arm and knocking Junketsu-in aside. His breath hissed furiously as he picked up a jar from the workbench. “Go away, or I’ll throw this acid in your face. You’ll be uglier than I, and Anraku won’t want you anymore. If you don’t stop tormenting me, I’ll tell the sōsakan-sama that you hated Chie and killed her.”
The fear in Junketsu-in’s eyes gratified him. She fled the laboratory, and Dr. Miwa clutched the edge of his workbench, breathing hard, trying to calm his temper. To succeed in his task and keep the position and respect he’d worked so hard to gain, he must control himself. He could not, and would not, fail again.
26
He of the true, clear gaze,
The gaze of great and perfect understanding,
Is a sun of wisdom dispelling all darkness.
He shall quell the wind of misfortune,
And everywhere bring pure light.
– FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA
Reiko sat in the round, sunken tub in the bathchamber, submerged up to her neck. She’d opened the window and lit lamps around the room; the hot water steamed in the cool breeze and reflected wavering flames. Sick horror still knotted her stomach, though hours had passed since she’d seen the corpses of the Fugatami; her mind continuously revisited the bloody scene. When Sano entered the chamber, she looked up at him with eyes swollen and sore from weeping.
“I keep thinking about Hiroko and Minister Fugatami,” she said in a ragged voice. “This is the third bath I’ve taken since I left that house, but I still don’t feel clean.”
“I understand,” Sano said gently. “The aura of death always lingers.”
He stripped off his clothes. Crouching on the slatted wooden floor, he poured a bucket of water over himself, then washed his body with a bag of rice-bran soap. His vigorous scrubbing bespoke his own desire for purification.
“This afternoon I went to tell Hiroko’s father what happened.” Sorrow welled inside Reiko as she remembered how the dignified old man had tried to hide his grief over Hiroko’s death and his anxiety about his missing grandsons. She wondered guiltily whether her contact with Minister Fugatami had somehow triggered the murders.
“Thank you for sparing me the task,” Sano said, his expression bleak and strained as he washed his hair.
“What happened with the shogun?” Reiko asked.
“He refused to shut down the sect. He ordered me to stay away from the temple.”
“Oh, no. What are you going to do?”
“What can I do but obey orders?” Sano said unhappily. He rinsed himself, then climbed into the tub. The water shifted and rose around Reiko as he sat opposite her. “I’ll look for evidence outside the temple that will convince the shogun to change his mind. And I’ve sent a message to Chamberlain Yanagisawa, explaining the situation and asking him to come back to Edo. I think he’ll consider the Black Lotus problem serious enough to deserve his attention.”
Reiko was both glad and alarmed that Sano had taken the major step of summoning Yanagisawa, but feared that the chamberlain might not return in time to prevent a disaster. “At least some good has come of Minister Fugatami’s death,” she said. “You finally believe he was right about the Black Lotus.” That she and Sano were at last on the same side comforted Reiko. “And Haru can be released from jail,” Reiko added, now more certain than ever that the sect was guilty, which argued in favor of the girl’s innocence. “She can’t go back to the temple, so we’ll have to find a place for her to live.”