Over the next five years after killing the whore, he’d killed three more prostitutes, and the magistrate charged him with multiple murder. While in jail awaiting trial, Kumashiro came to believe that the deaths of females had disturbed the bakufu more than had the other deaths he’d caused. If not for females, he wouldn’t be facing a death sentence. Later, circumstances in the Black Lotus Temple had affirmed his belief in the evil of women and fornication.

He despised Abbess Junketsu-in, who bedded priests in the sect’s upper echelon, sparking angry rivalries that caused him difficulty in maintaining order. Junketsu-in’s other disgraceful practices also appalled Kumashiro; he couldn’t cover them up forever. Sex created problems with the patrons, too. Kumashiro thought of Commander Oyama, and hatred seethed in him.

The only good thing Oyama had ever done was to destroy police reports on complaints about the Black Lotus and order his minions not to bother the sect. But this good had been negated by his habits, which caused disturbances within the temple, and public gossip. Recently, Kumashiro had waylaid Oyama outside the cottage where he’d conducted his illicit affairs. He’d ordered Oyama to leave the female sect members alone, but Oyama had refused. While they argued, exchanging threats, then blows, the girl Haru had come out of the cottage and seen them. Kumashiro was sure she’d told the police about the argument. They must already know his history, and he worried that they would think he’d murdered Oyama… and Chie.

What the nurse had experienced inside the temple, what she’d learned about the sect’s business, had rendered her a grave danger to the Black Lotus. Kumashiro was glad that Chie and Oyama were gone, but threats remained. Haru knew too much, as did Pious Truth.

The monk sat in the basin, his head protruding from the water, which fogged the air as it gradually warmed. Anguish and terror filled his hollow eyes. Through bruised, swollen lips he mumbled, “Please, help, please, let me go, please…”

“The heat will purify his spirit,” Dr. Miwa said with barely contained excitement.

Kumashiro addressed the monk: “If you don’t cooperate, you’ll boil to death. “ His own senses quickened as the magic door inched open. “This is your last chance to tell me what you said to Lady Reiko.”

Thickening steam wafted up the chimney. Pious Truth jerked, howling while the water heated; his complexion turned scarlet. He heaved up from the basin, sank below the water’s surface, and emerged, gasping.

“All right, I confess!” he blubbered. “I told her about the underground tunnels, and how the novices are treated, and that my sister was murdered in the temple.”

This was serious indeed. Kumashiro feared that Lady Reiko would continue prying into temple affairs and convince her husband to act against the sect. Kumashiro must do something about the problem of Lady Reiko.

“Now that I’ve told you everything, please, have mercy!” Pious Truth begged.

“The cure has worked,” Dr. Miwa said with satisfaction. “We can take him out.”

“I promise I’ll never talk to an outsider again!” Pious Truth sobbed in relief.

“No, don’t,” Kumashiro said to Dr. Miwa. “He’s proven himself untrustworthy. Stoke the fire.”

As Miwa’s assistants complied, Pious Truth writhed, shrieking, “No, no, no!”

Kumashiro stood firm. He must shield the Black Lotus’s interests, which had become his own on his first day at the temple.

When his clan had negotiated with the bakufu to spare his life by committing him to enter a monastery, Kumashiro had initially been furious and bitter. A peaceful religious existence seemed to him worse than torture, yet he didn’t want to die, so he went to the Black Lotus monastery, having picked it at random. As soon as he arrived, High Priest Anraku summoned him to a private audience.

Anraku sat on a dais in a windowless chamber decorated with gold Buddha statues and carved lotus flowers, dimly lit by candles and so full of incense smoke that Kumashiro could barely see him. In a sonorous voice he said, “Honorable Samurai, do you know why you are here?”

“It was either this or execution.” Kumashiro knelt, annoyed by the mystical trappings and suffocating smoke.

Resonant laughter rose from Anraku’s shadowy figure. “That is not the real reason. My will brought you to the Black Lotus Temple so that you could become my disciple.”

The incense clouded Kumashiro’s thoughts, and Anraku’s hypnotic voice eroded skepticism. “Why choose me?” Kumashiro said, interested in spite of himself.

“There is a vacancy in you that you can fill only by the act of killing,” Anraku said. “The act infuses your world with sensation otherwise denied you. Your need for that sensation is so strong you would risk death to satisfy it.”

“How did you know?” Kumashiro was shocked. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“I saw into your spirit from afar,” Anraku intoned. “The Black Lotus Sutra describes the one true path to enlightenment as a convergence of many paths, each designated for a particular individual. Killing is your path. Each life you absorb brings you closer to nirvana.”

Revelation awed Kumashiro. What a miracle that his obsession was actually a blessing! Maybe his coming here was meant to be.

“Become my disciple, and I shall help you achieve your destiny,” Anraku said.

Bowing low, Kumashiro said, “Yes, Honorable High Priest.”

Anraku had initiated Kumashiro into the priesthood and placed him in charge of policing the temple. Kumashiro eliminated any sect member who showed indication of disloyalty. Soon he became the high priest’s second-in-command. He gloried in his freedom to kill, but the need never waned. His best hope was to continue along his path until Anraku’s schemes transformed him and the whole world.

Now the monk’s howls subsided. Losing consciousness, Pious Truth sank in the basin.

“He is almost gone,” Dr. Miwa said.

Moving close to the basin, Kumashiro unsheathed the dagger that hung at his waist. The magic door was opening. Everything glowed with new color, as if lit by the sun. Kumashiro tipped the monk’s head back. The pulse of fans beat louder in his ears. Swiftly he drew his blade across the monk’s throat. Crimson blood gushed into the water. As Pious Truth’s spirit energy filled him, Kumashiro savored the rapture, not caring that Dr. Miwa watched him. They were bound in a conspiracy of silence, forced to tolerate each other’s proclivities, for the good of all.

Eventually, Kumashiro cleaned and sheathed his blade. “Let’s get rid of him,” he said.

Dr. Miwa and the nuns lifted the corpse from the basin and wrapped it in a white shroud. Kumashiro and Miwa carried it through the tunnels to the crematorium. Here the nuns stoked a stone furnace and worked the bellows until the fire roared hot like a dragon’s breath. Kumashiro and Miwa dumped the corpse inside. As the assistants chanted, “Praise the glory of the Black Lotus,” and the smell of burning flesh seared his lungs, Kumashiro felt regret that the joy of killing was so transient, and relief that he’d eliminated another threat.

To protect his way of life, he must protect the Black Lotus.