When the ritual ended, Anraku surveyed the novices with proud satisfaction. They raised rapt faces to him, and Midori knew they felt toward him the same fear, trust, and attraction as she did. Anraku said,
“Now you each know the path that is yours to follow. Before you embark on your journey, you must take the vows that are required from all members of the Black Lotus sect.” He lifted his hands. “Rise, my children.”
Midori clambered to her feet. Still dizzy, she wobbled. The unsteady bodies of Toshiko and other young women bumped her.
“Repeat after me,” Anraku said: “I pledge to embrace the Black Lotus faith and shun all other faiths forever.”
As an untrained newcomer Midori had no idea what comprised her new faith, but that seemed less important than saying whatever was necessary to earn the reward Anraku had promised. Her voice joined the loud, heartfelt chorus of repetitions.
“I pledge to forsake my family, friends, and the entire outside world,” Anraku said.
Even as visions of her sisters, Hirata, Reiko, Sano, and Masahiro flitted through Midori’s mind, she recited the oath.
Distorted perception magnified Anraku to colossal stature; his mirrored, glittering reflections filled the room with his presence. He intoned, “I pledge to dedicate my life to the service of the Black Lotus.”
The novices echoed him with increasing fervor. Midori felt her whole self blending into the group.
“I pledge to obey High Priest Anraku from now until forever,” Anraku said.
Shouting the vow, Midori could no longer distinguish her voice from the voices of her comrades. Her heart beat in rhythm with theirs; they breathed together like a single being.
“I pledge my loyalty to the Black Lotus sect,” Anraku said.
Hysteria transformed the people around Midori into a hot, dense mass of swaying bodies and reaching hands. “I pledge my loyalty to the Black Lotus sect!”
With stern gravity, Anraku said, “This is your last, most important pledge: If I should break my vows, may death strike me down and doom me to an eternity in hell.”
Thunderous response shook the room. Excited beyond rationality, Midori couldn’t bear for the ritual to stop. Body and spirit demanded something more, though she didn’t know what.
“Now we shall affirm your vows with the sacred initiation rite of the Black Lotus,” Anraku said.
Chanting priests formed ranks behind the rows of novices. Two nuns climbed steps to the altar. Anraku spread his arms, and they removed his brocade robe. He stood proudly nude and magnificent. Midori stared because she’d never seen a naked man before. The sight of Anraku’s manhood shamed and fascinated her.
“I welcome you as a follower of the true faith.” Anraku extended his open hands. Towering amid the candles and smoke, he looked like an idol come to life. “Share my power. Receive my blessing.”
The two nuns knelt on either side of Anraku. The priest behind Midori closed a hand over her shoulder. Twisting away, she looked around at him. He was a few years older than she, with a sly face. He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face the altar. Midori saw other priests holding the other novices. She recoiled from her priest, whimpering-this seemed wrong. Around her, novice nuns, wrapped in the arms of their priests, sighed with pleasure. The sensual atmosphere enfolded Midori. The priest’s cheek grazed hers. When she again turned to look at him, she saw that he was Hirata.
Midori exclaimed in bewilderment and joy. Hirata embraced her the way she’d imagined in her secret fantasies; his eyes smoldered with desire. Midori’s whole body tingled at his touch. Moaning, she leaned back against Hirata. Such a miracle to have him at last! Midori didn’t care how he’d gotten here, or who saw them.
Novices and priests arched, writhed, intertwined limbs, and thrust against one another. Groans and cries rose above the chanting that emanated from nowhere and everywhere. The nuns on the altar stroked Anraku’s organ; it swelled and lifted.
“Come close,” Anraku said, his voice hoarse with excitement. “Release the spiritual energy that dwells within me.”
Couples moved toward him. Hirata whispered to Midori, “I love you. You are mine. I am yours.”
The words filled Midori with bliss. When he led her to the altar, she didn’t resist. She would do anything for him, anything for Anraku, who’d given Hirata to her. The couples crowded around the altar, chanting, “Praise the glory of the Black Lotus!”
Anraku stood, chest heaving, glistening with sweat, as the nuns each clasped a hand around his organ and pumped him. Suddenly he tensed, threw back his head, flung out his arms, and bellowed, “Let my power flow from me to you!”
His seed spurted. Hirata held Midori tighter. She cried out in heartfelt bliss, all her romantic dreams fulfilled. Uproar from the crowd echoed them.
The nuns on the altar clothed Anraku in his brocade robe. He held his fists out to the crowd. “Come and receive my spiritual force!” he shouted.
He opened his fists. Blood trickled from the palms. The crowd surged forward. Novices eagerly licked at Anraku’s hands; blood smeared their faces, stained their robes. Midori’s dizziness increased, but Hirata held her upright. Will and caution deserted her as Anraku pressed his palm to her mouth.
She swallowed thick, salty blood. Anraku, the nuns, and the priests chanted the Black Lotus Sutra, but Midori couldn’t comprehend the words. Lights, smoke, and voices blurred into a single overpowering sensation. Drowsiness descended upon Midori; her vision dimmed. She was remotely aware of Hirata lifting her in his arms, carrying her away. She realized that something bad had happened, but she’d lost the power to appreciate the difference between right and wrong. Something had gone very amiss with her plans… what those plans were, she couldn’t recall. As Midori sank into dark unconsciousness, fleeting thoughts surfaced in her mind: She must stay at the Black Lotus Temple. She wished she could remember why.
27
If you are imprisoned,
Hands and feet bound by chains,
The Bodhisattva of Infinite Power will release you.
– FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA
A full moon pocked and scored with shadows broke through veils of cloud above Edo Jail, which dominated the dark, empty streets in northeast Nihonbashi. Lights burned in watchtowers along the jail’s high stone walls, and within passages patrolled by guards. A bonfire of refuse smoked in a courtyard. Wails issued from the dilapidated prison buildings.
In a cell in the prison, Haru lay on a pile of straw. Moonlight filtered through the tiny barred window onto her frightened face. Shivering in the cold, she hugged herself and pulled her bare feet under her skimpy muslin robe. The stench of human waste nauseated her. Up and down the corridors outside her locked door, other female prisoners moaned, coughed, and snored. A woman wailed, “Help! Let me out!” The pleas echoed Haru’s own desperation. She clung to hope that had waned as the hours passed.
After her arrest, she’d struggled and screamed so wildly that the soldiers had bound and gagged her. They’d transported her along the streets on an oxcart, through jeering crowds. When she arrived at the prison, the jailers had untied her and thrown her into this cell. Haru had beat her fists on the door, rampaged around the cell,. shrieked, wept, and tried to climb the wall to the window until exhaustion overcame her. She’d fallen asleep, then awakened after dark to lucid misery. Now, weak from hunger and thirst, her body aching, she thought of the events that had brought her here.
She’d worked so hard to convince Reiko that she was good and innocent. Reiko was like a kind, loving older sister, and Haru was grateful to Reiko for trying to help. If only the sosakan-sama hadn’t found her parents! And if only Abbess Junketsu-in, Dr. Miwa, Priest Kumashiro, and the orphans hadn’t said bad things about her. They and the sosakan-sama hated her and wanted her to die. Now Haru pinned her hopes of rescue on High Priest Anraku.
