The Spider Web

What evil have I committed that I must endure such unrest? Even before the hour of my ordination, I took no life. I did good works, like helping the poor.

Although I never was a poor man, I lived in moderation. When I became a monk, I joined my brothers in poverty. With utmost humility and painstaking effort, I helped upkeep the temple. For ten years I have served in this manner at Yuugata no Tokoro. Few can claim they have lived with such holiness as I. But yesterday, she came to Yuugata no Tokoro, Rumiko Sajime, to pray for the soul of her father, recently dead. When I saw her, I thought her a being descended from Heaven.

“Are you the monk, Maruzashi?” she asked me.

Her somber whisper made me think of wind in the rushes. At first, disbelieving her melancholy beauty, I could not answer. At last I found my voice. “Yes, I am he. And you are?”

“Sajime, Rumiko,” she answered. Her name, like sweet poison, tingled in my ears. “I have come to pray for my father. But I am a stranger to this far-flung temple and do not know the way. Won’t you show me?”

“Yes of course.” I did not dare speak her name, for already the seed grew within me. As I walked with her, I found myself comparing her to a lovely purple flower amidst the feather-white late winter snows.

Ashamed of my thoughts, I forced myself to look at her, to imagine her suffering, to summon some sort of empathy. All I conjured was the desire to know the feeling of her lips, sharp blood red against the paleness of her moon-white face, upon mine.

When we arrived at the rows of graves, I bowed to her.

“Here is where you shall find him,” I said. “You may summon my brothers if you have further needs.”

“Thank you.” She bowed low, far lower than most nobles. As she did, I glimpsed the back of her delicate neck. The white of her skin contrasted with few stray tendrils of her dark hair. “Saraba de gozaimasu, Sajime-sama…” I said to her in parting.

The moment I reentered the temple, Hiroto, my elder who ran the affairs of Yuugata no Tokoro, approached me.

“Have you met Rumiko Sajime?” he asked me.

“I have,” I said, wondering if the color that surely bedecked my face were visible in the shadows. “I showed her the way to her father’s grave.”

“I see,” Hiroto said. “Rumiko’s village is at the foot of the mountains, but her family’s graveyard is here. She has asked to stay here for a time so that she might pay them all proper respect. But in addition, the passes through which she must travel are frequently blocked with snow at this time of year.

She may stay longer than she first believed.”

My heart beat faster as I bowed. “Very well,” I said.

"I shall endeavor to show her every courtesy.” I made my escape from Hiroto’s discerning eye, barely skirting the blade of unmet etiquette.

Back in my cell, I attempted to meditate, but her face filled my mind. I could achieve no peace. At last I opened my eyes and stared at the floor. My heart beat faster as I recalled the smooth white skin of her face, her blood-red lips, the delicateness of her neck, as I imagined sliding her smooth hair between my fingers. The more I tried to dislodge Rumiko from my mind, the more embedded her image became. The severity of this calamity threatened to crush my spirit. Had I not perfectly executed my duties at Yuugata no Tokoro for a decade? Never once had I been late to observe a rite! Even in my first year, the others had come to me for advice. Yet now…thoughts of a woman had torn me from my meditations! And such a woman…

I shook my head to clear it. I would not be like Satoshi and Takada who took our acolytes to bed with them, nor like Ieda, who descended the mountain to carouse with the village whores. It was common knowledge, and we all accepted it to save face.

Unlike those three, however, I had never committed such deeds, even under the cover of technicality and convoluted logic. All at Yuugata no Tokoro knew it.

Many of my brothers would not fraternize with me as a result. Nonetheless, I knew they were vile and small men who sought their own kind. All my years of holiness would mean little if I were to tarnish my reputation. And long ago I had staked the meaning of my life on living as one who would achieve enlightenment. Even for Rumiko, it was a sacrifice I did not dare ponder, which made it all the more fodder tempting for my deteriorated meditation.

Keeping a vain hold on the noble silence, I sat in my room and watched the sun burn out red in the west, not trusting myself to leave.

Late that night I lay awake, my mind divided within itself. Half of my thoughts dwelled on Rumiko’s beauty. The other half insisted that my desire must be a mistake. Never in my life had I experienced an impure thought, not even when the provincial wars brought countless young women to the shrine, most of them grieving. And unlike Satoshi and Takada, I did not see our young students as outlets for lust that could never be realized within the bounds of our vows.

Despite the logic I attempted to employ, Rumiko’s petal-white face would not whither in the face of it.

Disgusted, I at last sat up and stalked down the hallway. From Takada’s room, I could make out the heavy breathing that meant he shared his bed with another. I shook my head. I was nothing like that vulgar man! I who had never experienced carnal pleasure! I never would be anything like him!

At the end of the hallway I decided to go to the shrine on the ground floor. Yet even in this place, thoughts of Rumiko pervaded my mind. My obsession caused me to see her shining brown eyes as I stared into the candlelight. A sweet scent like spring filled my nostrils…the scent of her. My lust weighed upon my shoulders, a tangible burden. I moaned and clenched my fists. What was I to do? I sat in the shrine for many hours, my mind as dark as when I meditated, though I found no peace.

At last, when the mantle of night had nearly worn away from Yuugata no Tokoro, I realized what I must do.

Initially, however, I disbelieved my own solution.

“I must kill her,” I whispered, quite without realizing it. “Blot out her beauty forever so that she no longer troubles me.”

But then my mind committed a mutiny. How can I kill her? That is as great, no a greater sin than lusting for her! I will be condemned to the black depths of hell.

Thinking of her face summoned conflicting feelings within me. I felt at once her profound beauty, perhaps enhanced by memory. Then I remembered how I aspired to bring holiness to this rat’s nest that men called Yuugata no Tokoro while being a paragon of enlightenment myself. How could I accomplish that end if I, like Takada and Satoshi, had broken vows weighing down my soul? I knew the answer. I couldn’t. But to kill her… My skin prickled at the very thought. Then I realized the dismal fact.

Rumiko, despite her innocent appearance, was as dangerous as the vipers roaming through hell. She had cast the shadow of two sins on my heretofore spotless soul. The way, though I wept for it then, was quite clear. With the one sin, the murder of Rumiko, I would wash away the other one, that of my desire for her.

When I returned to my room, I fell into a dark sleep.

The next day I awoke with the keen sense that something was wrong. Beneath the crack of my door, I found the plum blossoms. Plum blossoms in the thick of winter. Rumiko Sajime could be none other than a demon! How dare she tempt me in this way? I had no wish for her attentions! Anger, an emotion that I have been unaccustomed to feeling since childhood, drained my energies. For a long time I sat on the edge of my pallet, seeking in vain for the noble silence. I did not find it. Her face in my mind sparked fury and hunger by turns, weaving countless tangles in my mind that would take hours to undo.

I meditated for the entire day, though with my many interruptions – Rumiko’s fault, all of them! – I attained little insight. At last when I drove the last of my mental torment away, the answer came to me.

Like the spider’s web, all evil begins with a single gossamer thread. This silver strand becomes the starting point for other strings that will branch out from it like the branches of a tree. These, become the birthplace for other threads. Before long, a pattern forms of the intricate connections that inevitably form between the individual pieces.

Patterns beget mirror image patterns and these opposites in turn form their own reflections. All the while the joining of patterns reinforces the strength of the web, rendering beings caught in its sticky entrapment unable to escape. Thus, is the web of evil woven.

Rumiko must die if I were to avoid the trap. Although the commission of the act would darken my soul with grievous evil, I was the only one who could be trusted with the deed. For with her blood shed, I could return to being a holy man. The commission of one great sin for the abolishment of many others…

Nonetheless, a few days passed while I deliberated.

How could I bring myself to kill another human being?

Then a method - ingenious – occurred to me.

That night while the others slept, I crept to the grounds outside Yuugata no Tokoro. Although the snows had melted and the ground had thawed, it took hours to find what I sought. At last I located it in a knothole outside the temple shrine where it was warm:

a plump caterpillar that had escaped death in the winter chill. I seized its plump wriggling form between my fingers and returned to my room. I laid it on the floor and watched it inch this way and that.

Fear clouded my mind. Never in my life had I been directly responsible for a death, not even for food.

How could I extinguish the spark that drove this creature about its daily business? Several times I held my trembling fist above the caterpillar and watched it curl in the darkness of my shadow.

Panting, sweating despite the cool air, I withdrew my hand each time. Why? Why must I do this? I rose, and thoughts of Rumiko filled my head. Where were her quarters? The plum blossoms were a summons, surely!

With a snarl, I brought my foot down on the caterpillar and crushed the life out of it. The sticky remains of the creature coated the bottom of my bare foot. Revolted, I reeled toward the corner of my room where there was no furniture. There I vomited until nothing more would rise. Still my gorge taunted me. Nausea swept through my head and brought me to my knees. But through the inevitable punishment my karma dealt me, I endeavored to smile and at last to laugh.

The first stage was complete. It would be only a matter of time before I returned my state of mind to normal.

Each death I inflicted was easier than the one before it. After the night of the caterpillar, I waited near the kitchen, where mice stole grains of rice to feed their families. With much difficulty, I caught a medium-sized mouse. Unlike the caterpillar, I did not look carefully at the mouse, though certain details of its being did etch themselves on my mind. How could I escape such an impression? The diminutive creature shrieked with such distress when I seized it that I had to clout it on the head to silence it.

Then to my room we went, where, mere hours before, I had scrubbed the floor clean of its evidence. I still had the bucket of water in the room, though I had left the foul rags for others to clean. I flung the mouse into the water, wherein it regained its senses. It began to paddle madly for the edge. Now was my chance. If I lost it, I would surely be discovered.

I reached into the bucket with one hand and held the mouse under until its struggles stilled. Then I carried it outside with the sullied water.

A week passed while I pondered the best way to destroy Rumiko Sajime. Despite my previous murderers, I still shook when I thought about the foul deed I had undertaken to commit. The inspiration came to me when I was lingering in the kitchen one night. Shingo, one of our servants was preparing the rice and tea for that night’s meal. His fat lazy cat roamed around our ankles purring and begging for scraps.

“It appears that Lady Sajime will be staying with us for another month,” the servant said. “She is finding it difficult to return home. Many unnatural storms have brewed in the passes this year. Yet we have a perfect spring on the mountaintop.”

Superstitious fool, I thought. Then I noticed the way the cat was looking at me with its unblinking, jade green eyes. Wretched beast, napping all day and begging when it finally awoke. I masked my sneer, bent, and petted its dirty gray coat. Yes, it would do perfectly.

“Will you make sure that the rice does not boil over?”

Shingo asked me. His embarrassed tone alerted me at once. Shingo had been making merry this afternoon. A trip to the privy was in order.

“Yes, of course.”

When Shingo left, his filthy cat hissed at me. I said nothing, only picked it up and went outside. My doing away with it left me invigorated, despite our struggle. However, karma was not on my side.

Scratches riddled my hands and face. When I returned to the kitchen, the rice had boiled over. Shingo looked up from cleaning the mess.

“What happened?” he exclaimed.

I turned my eyes downward. “Your cat escaped. I looked for it as well as I could in the dark, but…”

“I see.” Shingo detected nothing of the lie. “Well, may it be safe out there. Perhaps it will come back to me one day.”

After killing Shingo’s cat, I felt strong enough to take on the evil of Rumiko herself. However, I had to lure her to me in such a way that she never expected my plan, until it was too late.

I began by seeking her out at her father's grave.

Evening flooded the sky in dusky purple. However, the wind carried with it the sweet scent of plum blossoms.

Her scent. Despite my intention, desire welled up within me.

She turned, an exquisite fragile flower that even now I longed to hold, to caress. With her eyes, it seemed Rumiko pierced through my flesh to the very core of my being.

Somehow I kept my voice steady. "It is late," I said. "You should go inside before you catch cold.

Come. I shall escort you." An unnecessary courtesy for a wily one like her. Yet it was part of my plan.

Rumiko blinked in confusion, and her exquisite lips parted as if to ask a question. However, she said nothing. Side by side, we walked to her chamber.

"Sleep well, my lady." With that, I turned and walked back to my own room. I could all but feel her gaze smoldering between my shoulder blades. Let her wonder.

That morning I found a slender branch of plum blossoms outside my door. I took it into my chamber and sat on the bed, fondling it. In this way, I noticed the paper wrapped around it.

“The evening fog keeps true forms veiled in obscurity. I await the sharp light of the moon to show me the way."

My heart beat a little faster. It was more than I had hoped for; she was both confused and intrigued.

That very hour, I penned my reply. "The moon lights a silver path. At its end, in a garden of pleasures, a man waits." Making certain that Rumiko had left for the day - one of her inevitable walks to see if the passes were open, or so she said - I placed the note.

There was no way she could mistake what I had written.

If she could find plum blossoms at the dawn of spring, then she surely knew of the other beauty of Yuugata no Tokoro, the garden where the bereaved could wander when restlessness drove them from the gravesides of their loved ones.

As the day wore on, my nerves tensed, strained until I felt I must be torn asunder. Despite the clash within me, outwardly I masked all, knowing it crucial that none suspect.

At last night fell. After assembling the things I needed for tonight, I stole away to the garden, but no moonlight guided my way. Dark fast-moving clouds obscured the light. I cared not, however. The poetics of my murder did not concern me. And the early blackness showed that I had unseen forces on my side; it practically guaranteed that I would not be caught.

A wind that carried with it the promise of a storm gusted through the area. The pine trees filled the air with the odor of their needles. Ripples danced across the pond. I sat on a red-painted bench and waited for Rumiko. Would she come? Did she suspect?

Alone with my thoughts, I had time to doubt. Enmeshed in my necessary and unavoidable wickedness, I could not call on the noble silence that would have aided me so well at this time.

Rumiko did not disappoint me. When she appeared on the stone path, a sliver of moonlight as thin as a knife blade pierced through the clouds. My heart pounding, I continued to look past her, pretending that I was still admiring the development of the storm. Finally she drew too close to ignore. She had brought her umbrella with her, perhaps anticipating that we would stagger back to the temple, weary from making love, preventing the others from wondering what had kept us out in the rain. Her robes blew about her slight form. I closed my eyes, savoring the sight, burning it into my mind. Then I realized what it entailed and panicked. If I killed Rumiko yet allowed her to remain in my mind, it would be as though she had never died. All my efforts to purify myself with her blood would have been in vain.

“The moon shines not this night,” she greeted me.

“Great lights are born in utter darkness,” I replied.

For several minutes we traveled the garden paths, not speaking. When Rumiko and I stood in the shadow of the trees, we stopped as though our minds were of one accord.

She turned her face up to me. Our eyes met, and I could feel my resolve unraveling. I caressed her petal-soft face, remembering that at least this much I had planned for. She closed her eyes, but left it to me to stoop, to kiss her. I did not, but drew my hand back.

Rumiko flinched at my rejection of her...her charms.

She turned away from me and bowed her head. How nearly did I interpret her anguish as genuine. I came so close to taking her into my arms, kissing away the inevitable tears. Then I recognized the posture for what it was, exposing the lovely creamy white of the back of her neck starkly contrasting with her exquisite dark hair. It was her strongest move. If I could outwit her now, I would be free of her curse forever!

With Rumiko’s back to me, I reached into my robes and withdrew the sharp blade I had earlier taken from the kitchen. Mustering all my strength in both body and spirit, I plunged it between her shoulder blades, piercing through the thick cloth. In instants, her blood ran down my arm. Rumiko gasped and tumbled to her knees. I howled in glee and pounced after her to stab her again and again until she lay as motionless as a flower trampled carelessly underfoot. At last I withdrew the blade and sat back. The noble silence flooded my mind with welcome emptiness.