Pagoda, Skull & Samurai Read online

  "Good heavens! Can't anything be done? What if it should collapse? Isn't there a way to support it? With the rain adding forces to the wind, there's no hope for such a tall structure to survive this unprecedented tempest! When even the main hall is shaking this much, imagine the perilous state of the pagoda perched on its narrow foundation without so much as a tree to shield it. Wouldn't magic incantation stop the wind? Genta is supposed to inquire after our safety in such a frightful storm. Hasn't he come yet? jūbei is obligated to come, too. While even we are worried to death like this, isn't he concerned about the pagoda he built himself? Look out! There it goes, bending again. Someone, go fetch jūbei!"

  No one was willing to venture out into the street, where roof slates and wall boards were sailing through the air and pebbles dancing about. Finally, with the promise of an exceedingly generous reward, they dispatched Shichizō, an old janitor.

  <33>

  In addition to the quilted hood covering his head, Shichizō fortified himself with a bamboo hat to keep off the rain. Securing his workman's raincoat, he nervously ventured out into the storm, gripping a sturdy cane. He narrowly made his way to Jūbei's shack, which he found in a pitiful state. Half the roof had already been torn away by the wind; the parents and child were huddled wretchedly in a corner with an old straw mat barely able to ward off the rain that poured down from the ceiling.

  Shichizō was all but shocked by Nossori's resourceless-ness. "Master jūbei, how can you be so unconcerned about the pagoda? Outside it's like a battlefield. Roof tiles are flying and trees are uprooted everywhere. Don't you wonder how your pagoda is? So tall with nothing to protect it and on a narrow foundation, it's being blasted by winds from all sides. And how it's swaying and teetering! Arching like a flagpole, creaking, crackling—it's dreadful. Reverend Endō and the Manager Tame'emon are frightened out of their wits. They are worried it may split asunder any minute. It's your duty to run over in case of such a natural disaster, even before you're sent for. Aren't you being rather nonchalant? On account of you I had to risk my life on this dangerous errand. My hat was blown away, I got soaking wet, and to top it all off, a piece of wood came hurtling against my forehead! Look at this cursed bump! I must look dreadful. Now, please come with me right this minute. Tame'emon-dono and Reverend Endō ordered me to bring you. Goodness! What was that? Your storm doors are gone! What a start that blasted noise gave me! How could the pagoda possibly be standing at this rate? Even now while we're talking, it may be toppling or breaking in half! Hurry and get ready, hurry, hurry!"

  "If you're going out into the street," offered Onami, anxiously, "I'll get you a firefighter's hood. It's very old, but I want you to put it on. You can't tell what might come flying at you, and your safety matters more than appearance. Please wear the fireman's coat, too, shabby as it is."

  Jūbei watched with exasperation as Onami rattled open an ill-fitting closet door. "Why make a fuss? I'm not going anywhere. Just because a little wind has kicked up, there's no reason to panic. Shichizō-dono, I am sorry you had to come over, but my pagoda will not topple. It's not a fragile thing that could fall apart in such a trifling storm. So there is no need for me to go with you. Please tell Endō-dono and Tame'emon-dono that I said so. The pagoda will be perfectly safe," he said calmly, not even budging.

  "Come anyway," said Shichizō, somewhat vexed. "Come see for yourself how the pagoda is quaking and creaking. It's only because you can't see it from here that you are talking like that. Just one look at your pagoda fluttering like a banner at a temple festival, and even you will go out of your mind. There's no point in being brave in private. Now, come with me! Oh, here it blows again. Ah, so frightening! This wind isn't going to let up. Reverend Endō and Tame'emon-dono must be getting impatient. Put on a hood, a coat, or whatever, and come on."

  "It's all right. Please stop worrying and just go back."

  "It's not all that easy not to worry."

  "Everything will be fine."

  The two of them continued to repeat themselves. In the end, Shichizō became irritated. "I'm telling you to come! And don't think that it's merely my words. It's the order from Reverend Endō and Tame'emon-dono."

  "I was not ordered by either of them to build the pagoda," retorted Jūbei, also changing his tone. "I don't think the Abbot would send for me just because a wind was blowing. He wouldn't be so untrusting. Should the Abbot himself say, 'The pagoda is in danger. Send for Jūbei,' then it would be my crucial moment, a matter of life and death. I would run over, wholly prepared to accept Heaven's will. As long as the Abbot utters no word of doubt about my craftsmanship, there's no cause for fear. Whatever others may say, I can rest easy now just as on a fine day, for I didn't build the pagoda with paper or by way of magic or shortcut. I'm not afraid of a storm or an earthquake. Please tell that to Endō-dono."

  With Jūbei's brusque and adamant words, Shichizō gave up and ran back to the temple.

  When he made his report to Endō and Tame'emon, he was roundly rebuked: "What a dull-witted fellow you are! Why didn't you say right then and there that the Abbot was summoning him? Look how the pagoda is lurching. You must have been infected by Nossori the Dimwit to be so witless yourself. Go back and tell him that the Abbot is sending for him. Trick him into coming!"

  Mumbling indignantly to himself, Shichizō braved the storm once again.

  <34>

  "Now, jūbei, you must come this time. I won't take no for an answer. It's the Abbot's summons," Shichizō shouted excitedly from the doorway.

  Jūbei rose to his feet. "What? The Abbot's summons? Shichizō-dono, is it true?"

  "Oh, what a shame!" Jūbei thought. "However strong the wind may be, does the Abbot fear that what I built with all my heart might prove less than perfect? How regrettable! I believed in the Abbot, whom I thought to be the only living god or Buddha in this world watching over me with compassion. But even he didn't fully trust my skill. What an unreliable world! I have nothing left to live for. I happened to be discovered by a man of incomparable wisdom and I rejoiced, believing it the greatest honor of my life. But it turned out to have been a passing dream indeed. That he should fear the pagoda I built to the best of my ability might be toppled by a bit of stormy wind! How vexing! I want to cry. Do I really seem like a man without pride or honor? Do I appear to be one who would continue living shamelessly after his work had been disgraced? If the pagoda should topple, how could I allow myself to live; how would I even want to live? How, infuriating! Onami, am I so sordid? I don't want to live any more. I am sick of my body, too. Now that the world has turned against me, the longer I linger, the more shame and agony I'll suffer. Let the pagoda collapse, and the storm grow more severe! Since the wind blowing across the sky and the rain beating down on the ground are not as cruel to me as my fellow humans are, I wouldn't resent... no, I would be even happy to see my pagoda destroyed by Nature's forces.

  "Should a single board peel off or a single nail come loose, I would kill myself with no regret over quitting this miserable life. At least after I'm gone, people would pray for me, saying, 'The witless fellow called jūbei was not an honorless man who kept on living merely for the love of life despite the disgrace of professional failure. He has proved himself a better man than we thought.' This is as good a time and place as any for giving up my life, which is destined to end eventually. I hate to desecrate the holy temple grounds with the taint of death, but how could I take even one step away from my pagoda if it should prove defective? All the Buddhas and bodhisattvas, please forgive me. I am ready to cast myself down from the top of Shōun Pagoda when the moment comes. This five-foot sack of flesh may be unsightly when crushed, but it holds nothing sordid inside. Out of my steadfast belief, I am going to spill my immaculate blood. Please look upon me with pity."

  Whether such thoughts crossed jūbei's conscious mind or not, he himself was not clearly aware. Following the familiar streets as if in a dream and separating from Shichizō on the way, jūbei arrived at the pagoda.

&
nbsp; Climbing to the fifth floor, he opened the door and leaned out. The violent raindrops pelted him like missiles, making it impossible for him to keep his eyes open. The fierce wind assaulted him as if to tear off his remaining ear and snatch his breath away. Although he recoiled instinctively at first, he fought his way out onto the veranda. Gripping the banister, he stood erect, glowering up to heaven. The sky was blacker than the darkness of the fifth month, and only the roaring wind clamorously filled the space. Solidly built but soaring so far into the void, the pagoda swayed and shook with every blast of wind, precarious as an open boat tossing on the rough waves. Jūbei was forced to confirm his grave resolve once again. At this ultimate crisis, the moment of life or death, he stood clenching his teeth, his eyes bulging wide-open and his hair bristling. With a six-inch chisel in his steady grip, he patiently awaited heaven's judgment.

  Meanwhile, whether or not he was aware of jūbei's presence above, a strange figure was circling round and round the pagoda in the wind and rain.

  <35>

  "This storm was the most fearsome of our lifetime." Even old folks usually given to downplaying anything new by bringing up some time-worn example broke their habit for once as they talked in awe about the storm. Light-hearted young men, ready to make fun of even disasters and strange occurrences, all the more indiscreetly and irresponsibly relished the gossip of other people's sorrows and misfortunes, such as the destruction of a certain fire watchtower or the crumbling of someone's house.

  "That greedy so-and-so who put up money for his theater must have suffered a great loss. Didn't he deserve it, though! It was funny the way the whole thing caved right in!"

  "And the upper floor of the house of that saucy woman who teaches flower arrangement. Granted it was a later addition, but served her right to lose it, too."

  "More than that, there was a reason why one of the greatest temples in Edo fell apart so easily, you know. It's said that after they collected a large sum of money from their parishioners, the monks in charge secretly embezzled part of the funds and the builder cut corners. Even the thick column of the main hall was probably hollow inside."

  And so on and so forth. Everyone, however, was utterly impressed by Shōun Pagoda of Kannō Temple, which lost not a single board or nail.

  "That Jūbei is a great builder, isn't he? They say that he was resolved to die if the pagoda toppled. With a chisel in his mouth, ready to plunge a hundred and sixty feet, he was standing atop the banister like this, glaring at the wind and rain, so cool and collected in such a frightful storm. Even that determination of his alone must have protected the pagoda. The god of wind himself must have flinched before jūbei's indomitable glare."

  "He's the most expert craftsman since the reknowned master Jingorō. The pagodas at Asakusa and Shiba temples both suffered some damage, but Jūbei's did not shift out of place one-tenth of an inch. How well he has done!"

  And there's more to that story. Jūbei's master is said to be awfully great, too. I understand that he was circling around the pagoda in that torrential rain. Had he found even the slightest defect, he was going to lash out at jūbei, 'What a disgrace! What dishonor you brought upon all our colleagues! How can you go on living after this!' He meant to rebuke jūbei until he could never again dare to hold a hammer or an adze. He even intended to challenge him to take his responsibility in the manner of a samurai, by forcing him to commit seppuku."

  "No, no, that's all wrong, he's the one who fought with jūbei over the pagoda contract."

  People talked knowingly among themselves.

  On the day of the belated dedication ceremony, the Abbot climbed the pagoda with jūbei and Genta, whom he had summoned. Dipping a brush in ink carried by an acolyte, the Abbot announced:

  "I am about to give this pagoda an inscription. Genta and Jūbei, I would like both of you to witness it."

  CONSTRUCTED BY JŪBEI OF EDO AND

  CONSUMMATED BY GENTARŌ OF KAWAGOE

  The Abbot added the date in his firm hand and turned around, his face beaming. The two men prostrated themselves, uttering not a word.

  Since that day, the holy pagoda has forever soared up to heaven. Seen from the west, the high eaves have sometimes launched a clear moon; and viewed from the east, the banisters have swallowed the crimson sun in the evening. The story of this pagoda has survived more than one hundred years to this day.

  Selected Allusions

  AKECHI MITSUHIDE (1526-82): one of Oda Nobunaga's vassals, who, disgusted with his lord's ill treatment, was driven to stage a coup d'état. (See the Afterword, p. 270.)

  BON FESTIVAL: the festival of the dead, during which the spirits of the deceased are supposed to return to their former homes.

  FUDŌ: the head of the Five Divine Kings serving the Sun Buddha. Their duty is to subjugate evil and desire.

  GOMBEI; MOKUEMON: two Japanese names used in a manner somewhat like the phrase "every Tom, Dick, and Harry."

  HAKURYŪ (Kanda Hakuryūshi, 1680-1760): a professional storyteller who specialized in tales of war.

  JINGORŌ (Hidari Jingorō, 1594-1651): a carpenter-sculptor of legendary fame. The famous "Sleeping Cat" on the Yomei Gate at Nikkō, erected in honor of Tokugawa Ieyasu, came to be attributed to Jingoro by storytellers.

  KISHIMOJIN (Skt., Hāritī): a Buddhist goddess, in Japan worshiped as the patroness of children.

  MORI RAMMARU (1565-82): a handsome and valiant young page in Oda Nobunaga's service. (See the Afterword, p. 270.)

  ODA NOBUNAGA (1534-82): a warlord who was on his way to unifying Japan when he died in fire surrounded by Akechi Mitsuhide's army.

  OKANE OF ŌMI : a young woman who stopped a runaway horse, according to Legend 381 of Kokonchomonjū (Collection of hearsay stories from past and present, 1254). She was made famous in the Edo period through a Kabuki dance called Sarashime, also known as Ōmi no Okane, first performed in Edo in 1813.

  ENCOUNTER WITH A SKULL

  ~1~

  IT HAD NEVER BEEN in my nature to affect dandyism or to pursue elegant avocations. I was merely a five-foot snail gadding about in all directions, driven by a desire to see as much of the world as could be perceived with the uncertain eyes of my antennae. So I started out on a journey, not caring whether a present-day Lady of Eguchi refused me a night's lodging, or a nobleman of Uji begrudged me a fragrant cup of parched-rice tea.

  Far from towns,

  I share with the dew

  A pillow of grass.

  I had composed this haiku as I lay wayworn in a field late one night on a lonely trip through the northern provinces. Having made myself "a companion of the dew," a rohan, destined eventually to drop from the branches, I entertained no more wish than to die by the wayside only to fertilize useless green moss in the gloomy shade of a large tree good for nothing but kindling. My daydreams, however, had been embracing an inane, audacious ambition: "I shall endeavor to purify this frivolous world." My soul, possessed by such a wild fancy, roved in vain for the past thirty-some years. "There is no tranquillity in the life of a self-mocking man, and most of his actions are swayed by the winds of karma." Recalling such proverbs, I would feel my heart chill and bones burn on a wintry night of the year-end fair, or on a summer evening when bats fluttered about. Nevertheless, such a sober state of mind would last but for a few days; I otherwise whiled away the time in idle relaxation.

  In April 1890, I was at an inn by Hot Water Lake beyond Chūzenji at the foot of Mt. Shirane, nursing an illness and practicing five-stone checkers. As soon as I had recuperated, thanks to the healing power of the spa water, I was plunged into a state of euphoric animation, lustily quoting such sayings as "A heroic man is possessed of a soaring spirit that can challenge even Heaven." Feeling venturesome enough to disdain taking the same road back, I asked the innkeeper if there was a path leading forward.

  "Well, we're at the end of the road," he replied. "As you can see, Front Shirane and Rear Shirane tower high above the clouds, so climbing them would be impossible even in the summerti
me. Next to them rises Wildwood Pass, commonly known as Spirits Pass, whose head marks the border between Kōzuke and Shimotsuke provinces. Mountains rise up one on top of another, and there's not a soul to offer you a drink of boiled water within fifteen miles of here. The climate varies so much from place to place that the famous yashio flowers may be in full bloom in Ōsawa and Tokujira, while the buds are still tight around here. Besides, the Pass is totally covered with snow, as much as five or six feet deep in the valley, so you'd hardly be able to find the trail. Only a handful of travelers have crossed these mountains since the beginning of the year— it's not a place one ventures into merely for fun. You have no choice but to return to Chūzenji. You'd be better off traveling to some smaller mountain near human habitation, like Mt. Ashio or Mt. Kōshin."

  "Does he take me for a city-bred weakling?" I fumed to myself. "I'll show him the cantankerous temper and the stubborn pride of a contrary man." In a sham display of courage over such an obviously trivial matter, I stood firm on my cold thin legs (I despised long underwear) and insisted, "The Pass doesn't scare me. Prepare some grilled riceballs and go buy a pair of grass sandals. Slight hardship would be a small price to pay for the excitement of exploring a new trail. I'll entertain the mountain gods with my humming as I cross."

  "Really now! That's preposterous! Without snow boots you'll surely freeze. You should at least hire a guide to take you to the border if you're that determined to go. If you're planning on collecting the local nikujuyō plant for kidney medicine, this isn't the season for it. As the saying goes, 'A whimsical action is useless.'"