"It will help my husband catch the man who hurt you."
Tears trickled down Chiyo's drenched face. Her eyes were so red that she looked as if she were weeping blood. "Suppose he does. Nothing will change. My husband won't take me back. Last night he told me I was dead to him, dead to our children. Once he loved me, but he doesn't anymore. He looked so stern, so hateful." She wailed, "I'll never see my babies again!"
Reiko could hardly bear to imagine her own children ripped away from her. Alarmed at Chiyo's suffering, she urged, "Wait a while. Your husband may feel differently."
"No, he won't," Chiyo insisted. Reiko's sympathy and family connection made Chiyo speak more frankly than she might have with another stranger. "He's a good man, but once he makes up his mind, he never changes it."
How Reiko deplored male obstinacy and pride!
"He thinks I've dishonored our family." Chiyo sobbed. "I think maybe he's right."
"Why?"
"Because I brought it on myself."
"No, you didn't," Reiko said firmly. "My husband told me what you said happened at the shrine. You left your group because your baby was upset. You got kidnapped. That wasn't your fault."
"That isn't all that happened. I remember more than I told your husband. It's coming back to me in bits and pieces."
Controlling her eagerness for information, Reiko spoke gently: "What else do you remember?"
"I took my baby into the garden, and I nursed him." Chiyo's arms crept out from under the quilt and cradled around the infant who should have been there but wasn't. "I heard someone moaning behind a grove of bamboo. He called for help. I went to see what was wrong."
Women were taught from an early age to put themselves at the service of others, and Chiyo had an obliging nature. Reiko understood what must have happened, and she burned with anger at the rapist. "He lured you to him by playing on your kindness."
"But I was stupid!" Chiyo cried. "I fell for the trick. I deserve for my husband to divorce me and take our children."
Women were also taught to be humble and accept responsibility for whatever ills came their way. "No!" Reiko said. "You couldn't have known it was a trick. Neither could anybody else. Don't blame yourself."
Weeping contorted Chiyo's face. "My husband does."
So would most other people, Reiko thought sadly. "Your husband is wrong."
"I'm fortunate that my father hasn't cast me off, too."
Most fathers probably would shun a daughter who'd been violated. The fact that Major Kumazawa hadn't bespoke his love for Chiyo. Perhaps Sano's picture of him as a rigid, tradition-bound samurai wasn't completely accurate.
"Your father has put the blame exactly where it belongs-on the man who hurt you," Reiko said. "He wants to catch him and punish him. So do I." She felt her own taste for vengeance. "Don't you?"
"Oh, I don't know." Chiyo looked worried at the thought of taking direct action against anyone. She probably didn't have a vengeful bone in her body, Reiko thought. "But if that's what everyone else wants…"
"We want justice for you. But we need your help."
"All right." Chiyo was clearly used to obeying authority. "What do you want me to do?"
"Tell me everything you can remember about the kidnapping and the attack. Let's begin with the man who tricked you. What did he look like?"
Chiyo pondered, frowned, then shook her head. "I don't know. I recall walking up to the bamboo grove. After that, everything is a blank until…" A shudder wracked her body. "Until I woke up." Chiyo turned her face into the pillow, as if hiding from the recollection.
Reiko speculated that Chiyo had been grabbed, then forced to drink a potion that rendered her unconscious and erased memories. She leaned forward, bracing herself to hear the awful details of the rape. She spoke quietly, trying not to pressure Chiyo. "Then what happened?"
"He… he touched me where no one but my husband has ever touched." Chiyo drew deep breaths and swallowed hard. "He suckled milk from me. And… he bit me."
She opened her robe. On her breasts, around the nipples, were curved rows of tooth marks, red and bloody. Reiko winced. "Did you see his face?"
"Only for a moment. Everything was misty and blurry. It was like…" Chiyo fumbled for words. "I once read a poem about a pavilion of clouds. It reminded me of that."
Reiko wondered if the clouds had been a hallucination caused by a drug.
"The clouds covered his face, except for his eyes and mouth," Chiyo said.
He'd worn a mask, Reiko deduced.
Chiyo shrank against the cushions, reliving her fear. She whispered, "He was so ugly and cruel. Like a demon."
"Was he someone you recognized? Did he seem familiar?"
"No. At least I don't think so."
"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"
"Perhaps," Chiyo said uncertainly.
Reiko hid her dismay at the idea that the rapist might get away with his crime because Chiyo had so little memory of it. "Can you remember anything that might help us identify him?"
More shudders convulsed Chiyo. "His voice. While he did it, he muttered, 'Dearest mother. My beloved mother.' "
Reiko felt her own body shiver with disgust at the rapist's perversion. "Did you hear anything besides his voice?"
"The rain and thunder outside."
That didn't help narrow down the location; it had been raining all over Edo for days. And maybe Chiyo had imagined the clouds she'd seen. "Clouds and rain," was the poetic term for sexual release. Maybe the drug had conjured up the clouds and linked them with the rain, and her violation, in her dazed mind.
"Think again. Can you remember anything else at all?" Reiko said hopefully.
"I'm sorry, I cannot." Chiyo sighed, exhausted and weakened from reliving her ordeal. "I went back to sleep."
Then she froze rigid, her muscles locked in a sudden, brief spasm. Her expression alternated among shock, fright, and horror. "No! Oh, no!"
"What's wrong?" Urgency seized Reiko. "What do you remember?"
"Something new. I woke up again. Just for an instant. Because he slapped my face." Chiyo touched her cheek. "And I heard him say that if I told anybody what he'd done to me, he would kill me, and kill my baby, too."
Her voice rose in hysteria. "I told! And I shouldn't have! Now I'll be punished. Now my baby is going to die!"
"That's not going to happen," Reiko assured Chiyo. "You're safe here. Your father will protect you. My husband and I will catch the man before he can make good on his threat." Reiko would do everything in her power to deliver the monster to justice. Even though she knew there was no guarantee that she would succeed, she said, "I promise."
10
Sano and his entourage arrived in the street where he'd found Chiyo. The rain had stopped for the moment. The balcony that had sheltered him and his men belonged to one of several shops in a row that sold confectionaries. Lines of customers extended outside the doors. Sano worked his way down the row, asking shopkeepers if they'd seen Chiyo stumbling through the rain yesterday.
"I saw her," said one man as he wrapped cakes. "I thought she was just a drunken whore."
Sano retraced Chiyo's footsteps around a corner and down another block, whose shops sold religious supplies. Two dealers had seen Chiyo; the rest hadn't. Dividing the shops was an alley, wider than the usual narrow space that ran between buildings. It was a firebreak, designed to reduce crowding and prevent the spread of fires, and apparently used as a side street. Sano and Detectives Marume and Fukida walked down the alley, skirting puddles. Balconies overhung recessed doorways and malodorous nightsoil bins. As he examined the paving stones, Sano spotted blood that had collected in the cracks. He pictured Chiyo falling, hitting her head.