Tora was conscious, his face white and glistening with perspiration. “Thank heaven, sir,” he whispered. “Take me home.”

Akitada touched Tora’s face and found it ice-cold. He used a sleeve to dab gently at the beads of sweat. “Yes, of course.” He looked up at Kobe. “I want him untied. Tora was working for me. I trust you remember him?” When Kobe nodded, he went on, “The women have made a terrible mistake. Tora may be badly injured and needs a doctor immediately—if there is a decent one available in this neighborhood. And then perhaps an oxcart to take him home. I will pay the costs.” He turned back to Tora and, tugging at the knots in the rope which tied his hands, asked, “How badly are you hurt, do you think?”

“Don’t know. My ribs. Can’t breathe well.” Tora paused, took a careful breath, and added, “That fiend of a woman kicked me in the groin. The second kick today.” He closed his eyes. A tear escaped and slowly trickled down the side of his face. Akitada, sick with worry, tossed aside the rope and dabbed Tora’s face again.

Kobe finished untying Tora’s feet and then confronted a very nervous Miss Plumblossom. “Well, it looks like you put your foot in it properly this time, madam,” he growled. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Miss Plumblossom stammered, “B-but he was attacking Yukiyo right in front of us. We saw him. Didn’t we, Mr. Oishi?”

“Well,” said Mr. Oishi, with a voice surprisingly high for a man of his bulk, “he was certainly walking fast. When you kicked him, I naturally assumed he meant you harm. Else why would you do such a thing?”

“Quite right.” Miss Plumblossom nodded. “I was provoked into a defensive action. The law permits me to protect myself and members of my family. I know my rights, because I had a learned man read my license to me.”

“Get the doctor!” Akitada was on his feet, glaring at her, furious at the delay. “He is in pain and may have suffered permanent damage. We can unravel the tale later.”

Miss Plumblossom flushed and offered timidly, “I have some knowledge of treating injuries. I’ll take a look at him.”

“No!” Tora gasped, wild-eyed. “Keep the fiend away from me! Get Seimei!”

Akitada laid a soothing hand on Tora’s wrist. “Seimei is too far away. You need some help now, and then we’ll take you home.” Turning back to Miss Plumblossom, he demanded, “Who is the best doctor hereabouts? Quick, woman, before I lose my temper completely and lay charges for your arrest! You are clearly a menace who should never have been licensed in the first place.”

Miss Plumblossom shrank back before his flashing eyes. “The Temple of the Twelve Divine Generals is just around the corner. One of the monks there practices healing. But he’s getting old—”

Akitada told one of the constables, “Get the man!” The constable looked at Kobe, who nodded.

“Tell him to bring ice!” cried Miss Plumblossom after him, adding for Akitada’s benefit, “To bring down the swelling of the jewels.”

Tora groaned and turned his face away. Akitada knelt back down by his side. “My poor fellow. I am so sorry. I suppose you were looking for that girl. Gold, was it?”

Tora nodded.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did yesterday. Please accept my apologies.”

Tora nodded again, then reached for Akitada’s hand and squeezed it.

“What’s this about a girl?” asked Kobe, startled by Akitada’s humble apology to a servant.

“I asked Tora to find a group of actors who may have witnessed the murder in the temple. One of the young women promised to meet him last night in the pleasure quarter. I would not let him go, so he came today, no doubt worried about her safety.”

Miss Plumblossom gave a little gasp. “Gold! I might have known!” Raising her voice, she called, “Yukiyo! Come here this instant!”

The maid crept in. Her face was averted, but Akitada saw enough of it to be appalled.

“Come here, girl,” commanded Miss Plumblossom. “Look at this young man well! Are you certain that he cut your face?”

The maid trembled and wept, but she shook her head mutely.

“He didn’t?” roared Miss Plumblossom. “Then how could you say so?”

“I… I… he grabbed my arm outside … in the alley. He frightened me.” The maid’s speech was marred by her missing upper lip, but they understood her.

“But, stupid girl, that is not the same as taking a knife to your face. Look at what you made me do to him! Was grabbing your arm in the alley worth that? The man may never enjoy a woman again!” Tora went rigid and clutched at Akitada’s hand. Miss Plumblossom, in full spate, continued, “He may never have a wife or beget children! A eunuch the rest of his life! And all because you made us think he was the slasher!”

The maid burst into hacking sobs.

Akitada said grimly, “Enough! It has happened. Let us try to make sure your predictions don’t come true. Now get out of here.”

Miss Plumblossom left meekly, taking the sobbing maid with her. Kobe slammed the door after them, then crouched down next to Akitada.

“You poor fellow,” he said to Tora. “Women can be devils, but don’t believe what she said. The doctor will fix you up like new.”

Tora compressed his lips, stared at the ceiling, and said nothing.

An old monk, bent almost double and wearing a threadbare black cotton robe liberally stained across the chest and sleeves, eventually made his appearance and examined the patient with many head-shakings and mumblings. To Akitada’s irritation, his leisurely examination began with Tora’s face, eyes, and tongue, and moved on to the feeling of his pulse and his abdomen, before it focused on his injuries. After considerable manipulation with his gnarled fingers—during which Tora went absolutely rigid until Akitada snapped, “enough!”—he pursed wrinkled lips and announced, “The cold and wet appearance of the skin, along with the extreme paleness, suggests that the life force has withdrawn and that the patient is therefore in a state of negativity. This indicates that the male force of yang has been weakened and overpowered by the female yin force, thereby creating a severely abnormal imbalance.”

Tora’s eyes grew round with horror. “She unmanned me!” he groaned. “I knew it. Just make an end of me right now. I can’t bear life as a eunuch.”

Kobe was shaking his head in pity, but Akitada glared at the monk. “Stop talking nonsense,” he snapped. “Surely you can do something to bring down the swelling and reduce the pain. What about that ice?”

The monk rummaged in his bundle and brought out a stoneware jar and an ointment box, muttering, “The human body is transient, weak, and impotent.” He applied the thick black ointment. “It is untrustworthy, impure, and full of filthiness.” He took up the jar dubiously. Jerking his shaven head toward the door, he said, “She always orders ice for injuries that swell. I won’t say she’s wrong, since swellings attract heat, but in a case of severe negativity it’s a very dangerous thing to do. I don’t advise it. Leeches would be my choice. They’ll bring the swelling down without chilling the flesh further.”

With Tora’s fingers gripping his painfully, Akitada said, “Put on the ice! In her business the woman should know what works best.”

The monk grunted. “The love of women leads to delusion. Don’t have any leeches anyway,” and transferred the ice to a square of cotton, which he tied and placed on the injured groin. Tora sighed and relaxed a little.

Next the old monk fingered the purple bruises on Tora’s chest. “No broken ribs,” he pronounced, “but some of the vital organs may have been displaced or injured. The patient’s coldness and the sweating suggest a rupture may have occurred, but it is too soon to tell.”

“What if there is a rupture?” asked Akitada, visions of Tora’s slow and agonizing death from internal injuries passing through his mind.