Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters

Children, Pilgrims, etc. Maiko Shirahagi

Chiyo Iruma Kizaburō

Tsunemaru Gakutō

Kikue Shoke Chōjun

Old Man and two or three passersby Shoke Jōen, other academic monks

Playful Man Old Samurai

The final years of the Eiroku era.
However, the customs do not strictly adhere to historical facts, but are rather adapted to feel familiar to modern eyes.

An autumn day faded into dusk.
The high stone walls of Nanban Temple rose in Kyoto's Shijōbō district.
At their center, slightly stage right, stood the gate.
Its doors hung open.
Beyond lay a plaza with trees whose branches partially revealed a dimly visible hall.
Children clustered on the street before the gate.

Children:
(Song.)

Evening glow, dim glow.

Of Makada Pond

Sanshoyo’s fish

They glittered and shone.

The glass flask

Chinta’s wine

They glittered and shone.

The bell tolled.
The bell tolled.

The temple hall’s

The cross’s gold—

They glittered and shone.

The young pilgrim sisters entered from stage left while singing a hymn.
The elder sister was blind.

Blind Pilgrim Sister (stopping at a suitable spot with an uneasy air): “There’s a strange sound, isn’t there.”
“Could there be a sea nearby?”

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: “What do you mean, Elder sister?”
“How could there be a sea in the capital of Kyoto?”

Blind Pilgrim Sister: “Then is it the sound of a river?”
“If not that, must be the wind, I suppose.”
“I’m utterly exhausted.”
“I wonder if today’s lodging ain’t here yet?”

“That’s right, Elder sister,” said the Sighted Pilgrim Sister. “We haven’t come even one ri from where we started.”

“There’s a strange sound, I wonder.”

“Elder sister...”
“This here’s a splendid temple, I tell you.”
“Though I don’t know what deity it is, let’s pay our respects and go on our way.”

Blind Pilgrim Sister: “Is that so, Elder sister? If it’s a temple, let’s properly pay our respects and be on our way.”

The sisters peered into the gate’s interior.

“What do they call this temple, I wonder?” asked the Sighted Pilgrim Sister.
“Far, far in the distance, I can see a grand main hall, I tell you.”

“Ah, how I wish I could see it too,” murmured the Blind Pilgrim Sister.

“Oh!” cried the Sighted Pilgrim Sister.
“Elder sister!”
“Crows!”
“Crows!”
“Elder sister!”
“Look at all those crows coming! —The sun must be setting soon.”
“The western sky has turned red.”
“Oh, it’s turned red like blood.”
“Elder sister!”
“Crows have come in such numbers.”
“They’ve perched on the temple roof.”
“Oh! The roof has begun glowing blue.”
“It’s begun to shine like the sea.”

Blind Pilgrim Sister: “What do they call this temple?”

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: [Approaches a child]
“You there, child.
What’s this temple called?”

First Child (sneering): “Don’t know no name.”

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: “Does Kazuko not know either?”

Second Child: “Don’t know nothin’ either.”
“Hahahaha!”

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: “How clever—living here yet knowing nothing of its name.”

First Child: “Ain’t nobody in all Kyoto knows this temple’s name!
If you’re so curious, go ask them Bateren inside yourself!”
“Hahahaha!”

“We’re from another land—could you tell us?”

First Child: “This temple isn’t just any ordinary temple.”

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: “Even if it isn’t ordinary, it’s still a temple where priests live, isn’t it?”

First Child: “That priest isn’t a real human.”

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: “Hoho—if he’s not human, then perhaps he’s Lord Tengu?”

First Child: “No no—it’s not Lord Tengu either. Something far more sinister.”

“I see,” said the Sighted Pilgrim Sister. “Then it must be a raccoon dog, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t even a raccoon dog, I tell you,” retorted the First Child.

“O-Toki-dono!” called the Sighted Pilgrim Sister. “Let us hurry and go now.”
“I’ve grown strangely uneasy myself,” murmured the Blind Pilgrim Sister.

The First Child continued: “I’ve not seen this temple’s abbot myself, but they say his hair’s like rat fur and his nails like bear claws.”

“And they say he stands over ten feet tall,” added the Second Child, “with scales growing on the backs of his hands.”

First Child: “That abbot’s got a voice like a pigeon—*guwaa*, *guwaa*, *guwaa*, *guwaa*—he’s one strange head priest, I tell ya.”

The sunlight slanted.
Nanban Temple's bell began to toll.

First Child: "The bell tolls!"
"The bell tolls!"
"Everyone, hurry and leave! If you don't leave quickly now, look—you'll be devoured by Nanban Temple's gate!"
"It's scary! It's scary!"
"They say people were eaten yesterday and the day before too."
"Everyone, get out of here!"
"Get out of here!"

Sighted Pilgrim Sister: O-Toki-dono!
“Let’s hurry and leave too!”

Everyone exits.

The stage remains empty for a moment.

From afar, the Evening Glow song sounds once more.

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

Chiyo (a young mother) entered from stage left with her son Tsunemaru, narrating a story as they came.

Tsunemaru: “Then where does that black fish live, eh?”

Chiyo: “It dwells within the heart’s core of a person.”

“Then how does that get outside, I wonder.”

Chiyo: They say that black fish grows wings and flies into the sky faster than any bird.
Tsunemaru: And then what does it do, eh?

“Whether it’s a river, a mountain, the sea, or the sun—it flies anywhere. When that fish covers the sky, the sun darkens, and in the heavenly forest, a baby cries.”

“Why is there a baby crying in the sky, eh?”

“Far away, far away—it cries, wanting to go to the land of Father and Grandmother and Grandfather.”

“Father’s land, eh?”
“Mother—is Father’s land in the Sky Tenjiku, eh?”

“In the sky—the sky, the vast sky—in a place called the Land of Yama,” Chiyo said, “Grandfather and Father and your late little sister all live together in harmony, as Saishō Temple told us.”

“Mother.”
“What sort of country was it again?”

“Mother doesn’t know for certain either,” Chiyo replied, “but they called it the Land of Yama.”

“I want to go to that Land of Yama too, I tell ya.”

“That’s absurd—utterly absurd! In that land there’s a fearsome dog with five eyes—it’s a place where little children cannot go.”

Tsunemaru (dragging his feet): “I want to go to that land, I tell ya.”

“Now, Tsunemaru,” said Chiyo. “If you keep being this stubborn, I won’t take you anywhere ever again! Look—the sun’s nearly set. Let us hurry along.”

“But just how scary is that five-eyed dog?” pressed Tsunemaru.

“Hush now—I’ll tell you all about it later. Come along.”

“Mother, today’s memorial service was so interesting!”
“For me to find something this fascinating—it’s the first time since I was born!”
“But I still wanted to see more!”
“I don’t wanna go home!”

“Goodness—for you to say such things! That fearsome dog will come snatch you away!”
“At home Grandmother must be waiting—let us hurry back now!”

Kikue, a friend of the mother, approached from stage right and brushed past the mother and child,

Kikue: “Well now, hold on there! Ain’t you Ms. Chiyo?”

Chiyo: “Oh—this must be Ms. Kikue.”
“To meet you in such an unexpected place.”

Kikue: “Where’ve you come back from?”

Chiyo: “Today being Saishō Temple’s memorial service, I held rites for my deceased daughter and this child’s father.”
“With my mother-in-law pressing us so strongly, we ended up delayed and are only now returning.”
“And where might you be coming from yourself?”

Kikue: “Ah, that matter...”
“As for me, I’ve had no end of troubles lately, I tell ya.”
“That niece of Kamon-sama from Kurotani—you know the one—the girl’s gone clean out her mind.”

“Oh! My…”

“With a metal tool planted with jagged needles, she scratched and wounded her own chest in a cross shape…”

“Oh! My…”

“In the end, even parents—men and women—attack without distinction…”

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

Amidst the two women’s conversation, Tsunemaru left his mother’s side, approached the gate of Nanban Temple, and peered intently inside.

Soon, in Tsunemaru’s small voice:

Tsunemaru: “Really?”
“Really?”
“So it’s truly not a lie then.”
……What’s this?
It’s supposed to be even more—even more—even more interesting than that.
No—no, that must be false.
There’s nothing in all of China or India more fascinating than the hellish mechanisms I saw today.
……What—peonies blooming even in autumn or winter, they say.
Huh…
Father too… that dear little sister too—they’re alive here, they say… A pure white elephant dwells here too, they say.
It’s a lie.
...What—is it true?
Then I’ll swear an oath—no, make a vow! Alright—heaven and earth bear witness! Cross my heart—if I lie, may my fingers rot! Alright—then I’ll go in and see.
“If it’s a lie, may all ten fingers rot!...” (Tsunemaru entered the gate.)
(The two women still did not notice.)

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

Chiyo: “My，that truly is a strange thing.”
“This year feels downright cursed.”
“All this talk of bountiful autumn—bountiful autumn—yet our rice withers unharvested.”

Kikue: “Kazan Temple again, and the flooding of the Kamo River—my neighbor’s Grandmother, a strict early riser she is, says that for these past three months or so, every single morning before even the first rooster crows, she’s been hearing strange bird cries in the sky… And people say that recently in Settsu Sumiyoshi, there was such a strong earthquake that many shrine pines collapsed…”

Chiyo: “Truly, these are ominous signs.”
“Oh dear—I’ve gone and wasted time talking again.”
“I must take my leave now—I’m in quite a hurry today.”
“Do take good care of yourself.”
“Where there’s life, there’s hope.”
“Farewell—let us meet again another day.”

“Then please kindly convey my regards to Grandmother as well.”

The two women parted ways.

Kikue exited from stage left.

Suddenly, Chiyo let out a shrill—

Chiyo: “Oh! My… Tsunemaru!”
“Tsunemaru!”
Wait… Tsunemaru? Oh no—Tsunemaru!
“Tsunemaru—” (Staggering toward the gate and peering inside.) I’ve done something terrible.
I never realized this was the Gate of Nanban Temple… So this gate must have pulled him inside…

Chiyo hesitated for a moment before taking two or three steps into the gate's interior and called out, “Tsunemaru! Tsunemaru!”
There was no answer.
With a troubled expression, she retreated back outside the gate.

Chiyo found no one visible in any direction.
Oh no—what am I to do?
Going inside felt somehow improper...

Having made up her mind, she hurriedly left the area, stopped in the middle of the street, and began calling toward stage left.

“Hey! Hey!”
“Ms. Kikue—you’ve gone on ahead!”
“Ms. Kikue… Oh—she doesn’t seem to hear me.”
(Stumbling as if tripping, she took two or three steps toward stage left.) “Hey! Hey!”
“Ms. Kikue—are you there?”
(Raising her right hand and waving.) “Ah—I think she finally heard!”
“Oh! What a relief!”
“Ms. Kikue… Ms. Kikue… are you there?”
“Hurry—hurry, Ms. Kikue!”

At this moment, an old man approached from stage left, eyeing the situation with suspicion.

Old Man: “Hey there! What’re you screeching about so shrilly?”
(Shading his forehead with a hand, he gazed toward stage left before turning back.) “What’s happened?”

Chiyo: “We… we… our Tsunemaru’s been snatched away!”

Old Man: “What? What’s been snatched?”

Chiyo: “Our Tsunemaru! Our little boy!”

Old Man: “Hmm… Well now—I’d thought there were no eagles left in this capital these days.”

“No—it wasn’t an eagle,” Chiyo insisted. “It wasn’t an eagle!”

The Old Man scratched his head. “If it wasn’t an eagle… then maybe a long-armed monkey snatched ’im?”

“No, no—not that either.”

“Then must’ve been a mountain hag spirit takin’ young’uns!”

“It’s people doin’ the snatchin’,” she cried. “People snatchin’!”

“What?” The Old Man spat. “Folks stealin’ children these days? Strange business.” He squinted at the horizon. “Where’d they come from—which way’d they slink off?”

Chiyo’s tears fell hot. “They didn’t come from anywhere.” Her voice broke. “Didn’t go anywhere.”

Old Man: “If you keep blubberin’ like this, I can’t make heads or tails of it!”

Chiyo: (Shouting.) “That Nanban Temple took him!”

Kikue returned.

Kikue: “What’s this?”
“What’s this?”
“What’s this?”

Chiyo: “Nanban Temple has abducted our Tsunemaru.”

Kikue: “Good heavens!”
(She faints.)

Old Man (to himself): Hmm, hmm—another complication has arisen.
Women—they’re such vexing creatures, never grasping reason.
Old Man (to Kikue): Hey there, woman.
“Nanban Temple’s got no cause to snatch folk.” —(To Chiyo.) “I’ll tend to this one here, so you hurry into the temple and search for your boy.”
“There’s no mystery here!”
“Mystery’s naught but what bubbles up from your own heart.”
“Suspicion breeds phantoms.”
“Nothin’ fearsome here—get in there and find your child.”
“The little ones—likely inside, ears caught by the memorial chants.”

“Is this temple truly not dangerous?”
“Not at all, not at all.”
“Then those tales of a tengu-like man-eater dwelling within—are they truly naught but falsehoods?”

Old Man: “Nonsense! How could such things be?”
“Persistent wenches!”
“Eh?”
“There ain’t no tengu or man-eaters in this world.”
“Ah—’tis those Nanban monks.”

The day was already growing dark.
"Hurry on in there."

(Chiyo enters inside the gate.)

Old Man: “Hey there, strange woman! Hurry up and wake! No—come back to your senses, I’m telling you! Hey now, woman.” (He strikes the woman’s back.)

Kikue: “Ah... ah... That... that... There’s still a huge serpent’s form... The serpent’s form...”

Old Man: “You foolish woman. Hurry up and come back to your senses. Right? Woman. It’s because you look with an evil heart that even a rope woven from straw appears as a serpent.”

Kikue: “But then… what about that serpent just now?…”

During this time, the gate of Nanban Temple closed by itself without a sound from within.

Old Man: “Ha.”
“Oh no, oh no.”
“You there—man locking the inner gate!”
“Hey, man!”
“Keep that gate open a little longer now! Hey!”
“Just a little longer!”
(Angrily.) “Damn it!”
“There’s someone who’s gone inside, I tell you!”

(The gate closed completely.)
(A woman’s voice was heard from within.)

(A woman’s voice from within: “Ah! Ah! Ah! Aaah!”)

Old Man (trying to push the temple gate open with both hands): “Who’s there?”
“Gatekeeper!”
“Open the gate, I say!”
“Huh?!”
“You refuse to open it?”
“What.”
“It won’t open.”
“No—no—you’re absolutely determined not to open it.”
“Very well—if that’s how it is, I’ve got my own way to deal with this.—(To Kikue.) Hey there, woman.”
“You wait here for a moment.—Hmph, I’ve got my own way, I tell you.”
“I dwell right near here.”
“I have something at my house that I’ll go fetch.”
“Wait here for a short while.”

Kikue: “Am I to stay here all alone?”

Old Man: “What? Are you saying you don’t want to be left alone?”

Kikue: “Even so, I can’t… I’m scared.”

Old Man: “What are you talking about?”
“What nonsense.”
“Look! A lot of men are coming from over there.”
“Then it’ll be just a brief moment.”
(Exit.)

Two or three travelers entered from stage left.

Kikue: “Wait, wait! You there, sirs! A dreadful event has occurred here just now!”

First Traveler: “What’s this dreadful event?”

Kikue: “Um—Nanban Temple has abducted someone!”

Second Traveler: “What?”
“Are you saying Nanban Temple has abducted someone?”
“Oh! Is that true?”
“Do you swear it?”

Kikue: “Why would I, at my age, tell such a needless lie?”

First Traveler: “Then who from where was abducted?”

Kikue: “Someone I know.”
“It was Chiyo and her child who were abducted!”

Second Traveler: “Oh no, oh no! How dreadful! Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu! I who have long served—Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu!”

First Traveler: “Look there! It seems stars have already begun to appear in the sky.”

Second Traveler: “Let us make haste.”
(The travelers are about to pass by.)

Kikue: “Wait, wait! Everyone! As my companions are about to arrive now, please stay here a little longer. I’m too frightened to stay here alone! Oh no!”

“We have urgent business ourselves.”

“How heartless these people are!”

The travelers still tried to depart.

Suddenly, the sound of a lively song from stage left (accompanied by backstage music).

A young playful man and maiko Shirahagi appeared.
A man holding a lantern dyed with a shop’s crest followed.
The lanterns remained unlit.

Enter.

Playful Man tapped his knee with a fan, keeping time as he sang:

“If even the bell rings, they won’t leave.
Here at the source of Buddhism’s eastward spread,
the bells of the first and last night watches always toll.”

“Hahahaha.
(To Shirahagi) Why would you draw such a crowd?”

Shirahagi: “Well now, I was worried too, you know.”

Lantern Man muttered to himself: “This is Nanban Temple.”

Playful Man: “What?
‘It’s Nanban Temple.’
Heh heh, hahahaha!”

Lantern Man: “This is no laughing matter. Let us hurry.”

Playful Man: “If it’s Nanban Temple, there’s nothing to fear.”

Shirahagi: “Is it true what they say—that the evening bell rises from the depths of the temple’s well?”

Playful Man (feigning exaggerated solemnity): “Ah, that is precisely the esoteric secret of heresy—the sacred incantations of the Kirishitan sect．Such things cannot be lightly taught.”
“So listen well, Shirahagi.”
“Does your resentment truly spring from the depths of your heart, or merely from the surface of your lips?”
“No—unless you reveal that, I can’t properly teach you.”

Shirahagi: “I don’t know, I don’t know! You needn’t teach me a thing, I tell you.”

Playful Man: “Well now! What a stubborn retort.”—(Suddenly turns aside and shouts) “Hey, you!”

The oil seller who had been trailing their group—sometimes approaching, sometimes hanging back—was none other than Iruma Kizaburō. He carried no oil buckets and wore a blue hood. Rebuked, he retreated while shielding himself with his sleeve.

Playful Man: “Now what’s this? Such suspicious men these are.”

Shirahagi: “That man’s been trailing us for ages now. Gives me the creeps, I tell you.”
Playful Man: “Ah, nonsense! Let it go, let it go.”

Suddenly, from within the temple arose wondrous music—strange as distant waves.
(Romantic Western orchestral music.) Even those who had earlier been about to leave now turned back.

“What’s that? It’s lively music!”

“It looks like something’s going on inside the temple.”

First Traveler: “That looks like some rare heterodox sect ceremony, doesn’t it? I’d sure like to get a peek inside.”

Second Traveler: “But the gate’s closed. Wonder if there’s any way to see what’s happening in there.”

Iruma Kizaburō (suddenly crouching by the gate from within): “Hey now, hey now, everyone! There’s a narrow gap in these temple doors! Ah, look! Look here! Oh, what a beautiful sight! Not even in Tang China or India—let alone Rome or Ethiopia—has such a vision been seen. Among flowering trees like cherry blossoms—ah! White elephants stand lined up. Young women draw divine nectar from blue bottles. A red cherub! Gold flows gently from the fountain. The sun shines bright as noon! Ah, look here! Look here! A winged cherub was dancing there! Ah! Everyone was praying together there!”

The music swelled cheerfully, devoutly, then abruptly, somewhat seductively, and finally melancholically.

Kikue: “And... and... Could that be Ms. Chiyo there too?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Who is this ‘Ms. Chiyo’?”
“Where does she hail from?”

Kikue: “A woman not yet twenty-five.”
“But mother to two children.”
“Her sister’s child passed this spring, I tell you.”

Iruma Kizaburō: “She is here.”
“Here she dwells.”
“He too abides here.”

Kikue: “And young Master Tsunemaru—is he present?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Present! All are present—every last soul!”

Kikue: “Ah! Are they watching the ceremony now, I tell you? How utterly foolish these people are! And here I was worrying myself sick over them...”

Iruma Kizaburō: “No—everyone has already become gods, with beautiful wings sprouting upon them! Ah, what a glorious procession! They’re singing hymns!”

Kikue: “What nonsense this person spouts! I kept asking over and over if it was true… How utterly absurd!”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Ah! The black-clad nuns have arrived.”
The sun clouded over….

Playful Man: “Hey!”
“Oil peddler!”
“Step aside—ah! Ah! There truly is a narrow gap here.”
“Come now—let me have a peek too.”

“Did you see anything?”
“Did you see anything at all?”

“It’s clearly visible.”
“It’s clearly visible.”
“Ah—the false bottom lies plain to see.”

“What in creation could you possibly see there?”

“The Nanban Temple’s kitchen stands clear as day, I tell you.”
“Mark my words.”
“Well now—”
“Oh! This unutterable fragrance of sacred incense—it makes both flesh and spirit seem to melt away.”
“Everywhere hang floral garlands, gold and silver brocade canopies, tortoiseshell screens, crystal curtains.”
“And in the central shrine—a bewitching celestial maiden’s form, skin like fragrant snow, eyes veiled in mist that might vanish any moment... A temple so artfully wrought in falsehood.”
(Tearing his gaze from the gate’s crack, chanting mockingly) “To know deception yet remain deceived—that’s what passes for enlightenment these days.”
“Hmm, Little Shirahagi—how cleverly our ancestors phrased their hypocrisies.”

“That’s another vulgar jest.”

“Why would what I say be a jest?”
“It’s you who speaks of jests.”
“Beloved—they profess love with their lips while sticking out tongues in their hearts! Oh!” (Sings.)

“Though told a thousand times over, you remain dazed—know I serve another master! Mark my words!”

“And so—hah!—someone sang this fine song at Nanban Temple’s gate!”

Shirahagi: “There you go mocking folk again!”

Iruma Kizaburō: (Leaning again on the gate, suddenly shouting) “Paradise! Paradise!”

Third Person: Is it true? Is it real?

Iruma Kizaburō: Deus! Maria!
“Parabaisu!”
“*Parabaisu!*”

The sound of music from within the gate grew more vigorous.

Suddenly, voices from stage left.
Soon after, the old man from before appeared holding a large mallet.

Old Man: “We’ve our own way here.”
Kikue: “Oh dearie me, old man.”
“Kept you waiting an age now.”

Old Man: “Now then, everyone!”
“Step back from there.”
“Step back from there.”
“Hey! It’s dangerous!”
(The sound of music from within the gate ceased.)
(The Old Man raised the large mallet he had brought and struck the gate violently.) “Hah! Take that! Hrah!”
“Hah! Take that! Hrah!”
(The people uttered strange cries of astonishment as they gazed.)
(The Old Man paused his mallet for a moment and looked around at them.) “Everyone—why are you all staying silent like this?”
“Will you not recite the Buddhist prayers?”
“Will you not recite the prayers?—” (He took up the mallet again.) “Namu Taishaku Shitennō! Namu Godō Meikan! Namu Nippon Ise Daijingū! Namu Hachiman Daibosatsu! Namu Kasuga Daimyōjin and all clan deities! Namu Amida Butsu!”
“Hah! Take that! Hrah! Namu Amida Butsu!”
“Hah! Take that! Hrah! Namu Amida Butsu! Namu Amida Butsu!—” (Sweating profusely, he paused his strikes, visibly exhausted.) “Ugh…”
“Well, this gate is sturdy indeed.”

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

From stage left entered five or six Buddhist scholar-monks (Gakutō, Shoke Chōjun, Shoke Jōen, and others). They all wore black robes and black hoods. They also held long staffs. However, the monk at the front—Shoke Jōen—held a lantern inscribed with “Myōhōin.” The lantern was lit. The crowd grew increasingly tumultuous.

“Hark, people! Why do you raise such clamor?”

The commotion grew increasingly fierce.

“Why do you raise such clamor, I say!”

“Shoke Chōjun has gone mad.”
“What did you say?”

First Monk: "Shoke Chōjun has gone mad."

Chōjun: "No! I have not gone mad in any such absurd manner."

First Monk: (To Chōjun) "If you doubt our sect yet claim sanity, what then explains your actions?"

“I have done no such thing as go mad in some foolish manner!”

First Monk: "Can you prove that?"

Chōjun: "Can I not prove it? This is my defense."
(Chōjun removes the rosary from his wrist, throws it to the ground, and stomps on it.)

First Monk: "Tsk! You've done it now."

(The monks stared in appalled fury.)

Jōen (with a sorrowful look, facing Chōjun): "You have spurned our sect."

Chōjun: "Kicking is beneath me—I shall turn my arrows upon you."

First Monk: “Hey!” “How dare you spew such drivel!” “Hah! Since you dare oppose our sect，you must’ve gotten hold of new proof，I’ll wager.”

Chōjun: Evidence? What need have I for such things?
“Shakyamuni is but a fool—a toil-ridden prince of Magadha! Tendai Chigi a braggart spouting empty doctrines! Dengyō’s teachings? A branch of swindlers!”

First Monk: “Silence!”
Chōjun: “Why should I be silent?! Buddha’s teachings are a web of lies—doctrines that deceive men and let precious young lives rot like withered trees!...” (His tone grew dreamlike.) “When I was a layperson, butterflies danced among blossoms, and when birds sang, my heart—nay, your heart too—softened...” (Shifting to a ballad’s cadence.) “On evenings when blossoms fell, I feigned indifference—ah, how love’s longing made me waste away!...” (Snapping back.) “What truth lies in the two gates of doctrine and contemplation? What enlightenment in the three contemplations and ten vehicles?”
“Since I entered the mountain, for four years and four months I pursued—day and night without respite—the principles of sudden and gradual enlightenment and esoteric truths through ascetic practice… (shifting to a lamenting tone) …yet no bliss could compare to that day’s joy, nor any god rival my beautiful…”

Jōen: “Chōjun—are you truly in your right mind?!”

Chōjun: “What would you have me do if I’m not in my right mind?”

The first monk—Chōjun’s madness surpassed even what they had heard.
This was no time for forbearance.
(Attempts to strike Chōjun with a staff.)
(Jōen shields him.)

Jōen: “W-wait, please! This isn’t Chōjun in his right mind.” His voice trembled with protective urgency. “This must be the demon Papiyas’ doing...” Suddenly noticing Nanban Temple’s gate looming behind them, he gasped: “Ah—this is the den of heresy! Are we not before Nanban Temple’s gate? That explains it—this must be heresy’s craft...”

Chōjun murmured distantly, “…Hmm, I hear a song.” His eyes lost focus as if peering through veils of memory. “My beloved seems to be calling…”

Jōen (sorrowfully): “Chōjun, Chōjun.”
“You seem to have strayed again.”
“Your training is lacking! Your training is lacking!”

Chōjun: “Jōen, even you cannot fathom my heart.”
(Weak at heart, he leans against Jōen’s arm.)

Suddenly, a deafening clamor arose before Nanban Temple.
The group of monks approached the crowd gathered before the gate.

Old Man (striking the gate with a mallet once more): Hmm—this gate defies all reason!
"What? Still shut?"
"Still shut?"
Grunting through clenched teeth: "Hrngh! Hyah! Hup!"
"Namu Amida Butsu."
Another thunderous blow: "Hrngh! Hyah! Hup!"
"*Namu Amida Butsu.*"
"What? Still?"
"Still?"
Final desperate strike: "Hrngh! Hyah! Hup!"
"Namu Amida Butsu."

The old man—poised to deliver the decisive strike—suddenly swayed and collapsed, his mallet clattering to the ground.

The music within the gate (like the finale of Richard Strauss’s *Also sprach Zarathustra* from Germany) rises like a storm.

Kikue (startled): “Ah!”
“This is...”
“Old man... Oh...”

Iruma Kizaburō (interrupting Kikue): “Behold! This is divine punishment! Nanban Temple’s retribution.”

Kikue: “What? Can this be true?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “The dreadful power of Great God Deus—have you only now awakened to it? Though this faithless evildoer deserves abandonment, left for stray dogs to devour, today—by extraordinary compassion—I shall pray to Santa Maria and restore him to life.”
(He approaches the old man and chants an incantation.)
(The Old Man awakens.)

Iruma Kizaburō: “Well now, old fool—have you regained your senses?”

Old Man (gazing around quizzically): “Where is this place? Where is this place?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “This is the very heart of Shijō. This is Nanban Temple’s gatefront.”

Old Man (startled and trying to flee): “What?! This is Nanban Temple’s gatefront?!”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Now, there’s no need to run away. There now, calm your mind. Since I have prayed with utmost sincerity to the Great God, your sins have been forgiven.”

“(Turning to the crowd) By the sin of striking the august temple’s gate and defiling Deus’s divine authority, that man would have fallen into the abyss of purgatorial fires—terrifying even to imagine—the dark Inferno that awaits him once released. Yet since Deus’s holy teachings have only recently entered this land, and because you ignorant masses still doubt and question out of blindness, I took pity lest he plunge unwittingly into such grave sin. Thus did I concentrate my prayers, and thus were his sins forgiven.”
“You should all give thanks for these precious blessings.”
“Santa Maria.”
“Santa Maria.”
“Parabaisu zemushimaro.”

Everyone called out “Santa Maria,” “Deus,” “Maria,” and such.

Playful Man: “Well, well.
You fool! Listening with feigned ignorance—your blasphemous prattle is enough to split my sides.”

Iruma Kizaburō: “What? You call this deceitful rhetoric?
Enough of your blasphemous prattle! Do you not now witness the dreadful proof of Great God Deus’s divine authority near at hand?
If I have disguised myself in the lowly guise of an oil seller, then my noble words would naturally be doubted—” (Iruma Kizaburō suddenly removes his oil-seller garments and changes into the vestments of a heretical sect monk: green ground with gold-threaded trim.)
(Raising high a golden crucifix in his right hand.) “Until now I have concealed myself—but what need is there to hide anything?
I am indeed the true servant of Great God Deus—Iruma Antonius am I!”

The crowd recoiled.
Some called out "*Deus*," "*Maria*," and such.

Iruma Kizaburō: “Behold—our God *Deus* is the one true deity of heaven, earth, and the six directions; the Creator-Lord of all cosmic phenomena. From within the void of heaven and earth, He fashioned all things. Thus do sun, moon, and stars radiate light—brilliantly distinct—never deviating from their eastward rising and westward setting. Upon earth grow thousands of trees and myriad grasses; birds do not err in their molting season, nor leaves in their time to fall.”
“When countless multitudes devoutly worship this God, they shall enjoy afterlife in the paradise of *Parabaisu*.”
“Yet though they have eyes to see and ears to hear, those who know not this God and recklessly defile His divine virtue shall sink into the bitter abyss of Inferno.”
“Now, the land called *Parabaisu* is where flowers bloom through all seasons, birds sing, fruits ripen untethered to time; where there is life but no death, light but no darkness—no regret, no delusion, no suffering, no calamity. White elephants and crocodiles play with humans, river waters harbor the taste of nectar, and gardens brim with the fragrance of sandalwood and aloes.”
“What was lost is found here; what is sought is provided here. No fear of homes burning in war’s flames, no sending beloved husbands to die on battlefields—and the harmonious sounds of peace linger in the vast skies.”
“Behold, people—*Parabaisu* now draws near!”
“Do not delay—offer up your prayers!”
“Ora pro nobis, ora pro nobis.”
“*Santa Maria*.”
“Afterlife ascension to *Parabaisu*, *Zemushimaro*.”

Some of the people joined in.
Inside the gate was wondrous music of religious ecstasy and faith (medieval religious music).

Shoke Jōen held up a lantern and pressed toward Iruma.

Jōen: “Are you the one called Iruma Antonius?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Indeed, Iruma Antonius is none other than myself.”

Jōen: “Enough, you old fox! Cease your reckless deception of the ignorant masses!”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Why would I deceive people?”

Jōen: “Then I shall pose this question—is it true your Deus created heaven and earth?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Does this require explanation?”

Jōen: “Then who created this Deus?”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Deus alone is heaven and earth’s one true God. None created Him.”

Jōen: “Hah! Hah! So you claim Deus—though himself uncreated—skillfully fashioned all phenomena of heaven and earth? Then this Deus appears as naught but a clump of five dusts, a fountain of five aggregates—the very source of aversion, attachment, and discrimination!”

“Then I shall ask,” said Iruma Kizaburō. “What then is this Buddhism?”

“The mind itself is Buddha,” replied Jōen.

“What then is this ‘the mind itself is Buddha’?” demanded Iruma Kizaburō.

“The mind itself is Buddha,” repeated Jōen.

Iruma suddenly pulled out a concealed dagger and flashed it at Jōen’s chest.

Iruma Kizaburō: “What then is this Buddha?”

Jōen: (Calmly) “Dharma-nature is neither ignorance nor attainment, neither form nor sensation, perception, volition, nor consciousness.”

Playful Man (suddenly stepping forward and seizing Iruma’s hand): “Brandishing blades in a religious debate is cowardly!”

Iruma Kizaburō (Being pulled back by the Playful Man, he retreats a few steps): “‘Neither ignorance nor attainment’—how curious! If all is originally empty, how could the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth arise?”

Jōen: “All phenomena are empty in nature—they neither arise nor cease, are neither defiled nor pure, neither increase nor decrease.”

Iruma Kizaburō: “What is this ‘empty nature of all phenomena’? What preposterous pseudo-sutras! If phenomena are originally empty in nature, why would there be forms that empty emptiness? Truly, Great God Deus is the Master Creator of Heaven and Earth—the Origin of Humankind! In the beginning, when heaven and earth were a formless void, Deus called ‘Let there be light’—and there was light! When He says ‘Let there be people’—people exist! Why do you not revere this Great God? Why rashly doubt His divine power? Why not fear the coming of His wrath—when heaven and earth shall perish in Jiuzeru? Why not take *Teshihiriinairu*, strike your bodies, confess and worship? Why not kiss the cross *Santa* and fervently chant *ora pro nobis*? Parabaisu draws near! Offer prayers! *Ora pro nobis*, *ora pro nobis*, *Santa Maria!*”

Iruma Kizaburō held a golden cross high above his head and chanted hymns fervently.
The music within the gate gradually shifted from solemn, opulent temple melodies to mysterious and unconventional modern compositions filled with complexity.
The surroundings gradually grew noisier.

First Person: “Look! The Christian missionaries have begun their sorcery!”

Second Person: “What’s this about sorcery?”

The stage gradually reddened and grew hazy, the temple’s stone wall in the background blurred and receded into the distance, and people’s figures became vague and indistinct.
The melodies of the music intensified further into grandeur, while Buddhist chants dissonant with them—even the notes of a shamisen—clamorously mingled within.

Jōen: “Far apart from all inverted views and dreamlike thoughts.”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Laudate Dominum omnes Deum!”

Jōen: “Ultimate nirvana.”

Suddenly, Shoke Chōjun left the group, came to the center of the stage, and passed by Maiko Shirahagi.

Chōjun: “Hmph. You…”

Shirahagi raised her sleeve and retreated.
From this point, Chōjun pursued Shirahagi and became entangled with her.
Playful Man entered between them and made a gesture to obstruct.
Among these three, now and again, the figure of Iruma appeared.
He held a golden cross high in his right hand.
The golden cross shone brilliantly.
The monks stood in a row downstage, in a suitable position.
The music, the monks’ and Iruma’s prayers and chants, the people’s cries of shock—all clamorously and intermittently resounded.

Chōjun: "Hmph. Are you not Lady Otsuru?"

Shirahagi: "Then are you Lord Minamoto?"

Chōjun: "Ah, how strange! Lady Otsuru—you are well?"

Shirahagi: "Ah, how nostalgic... Lord Minamoto."

Chōjun: "I had resigned myself to believing you were no longer in this world..."

Shirahagi: "How heartless of you, Lord Minamoto."

“Shirahagi, time grows late. I say we should make haste and leave.”

Chōjun (dreamily, as if lost in recollection): At that time, you were a courtesan in your prime—the very object of Lord Tajima no Kami’s obsession—while I was but a poor monk’s disciple. Between two such ill-fated souls, what we felt was called mere delusion by others,

“You’re too caught up in your own presumptions…”

“Well then—if I killed people and died myself, even falling into Avīci Hell... I wandered the crossroads of dark nights...”

“Lord Minamoto—you go too far! Why couldn’t you have explained this to me even once...”

When I considered destroying myself for a single woman’s sake—truly, before society’s eyes, others’ judgments would shame me—I entered the monk’s path seeking nirvana in this very world... Yet four years have passed since we parted...

Shirahagi: “I’ve cried day and night...”

Playful Man: “I’m telling you, we should hurry and leave.”
Shirahagi: “My, aren’t you persistent. If ya wanna go back, then go by yourself already!”

Chōjun—at first marveling at the mountain’s golden drums and Buddhist music—had immersed himself in ascetic practices and chanting...

Shirahagi: “Then... have you forgotten me entirely...?”

Chōjun pushed open the window of *shikan* meditation and delved into the Four Teachings’ depths—only to find ignorance’s stream transforming into Hossō’s Great Perfect Mirror Wisdom...

Shirahagi: “...Oh...”

Chōjun: The *Mysteries* I yearned for in youth—those faintly wondrous, achingly sweet visions—had vanished from my breast entirely, leaving only an icy shadow of emptiness.
(With oratorical fervor) “Though they spoke of Hossō’s Shinnyo—these were but illusory towers copied from Buddha’s and Dengyō’s minds! Since they spring from human intellect alone, no study could bring true awakening!”
“Enlightenment is futile labor.”
“What I crave is that *Mystery*—life’s insoluble riddle! The very earthly desires I once cast aside!”
“Tendai and Dengyō stole this treasure from my heart—thieves!”
“What awaits me if I spurn the sect?”

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

Monks (from afar): *Gate gate pāragate pārasaṃgate bodhi svāhā.*

Iruma Kizaburō (appearing at the front): Come forth, come forth.
“Gloria Patri et Filio Spiritui Sancto.”

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

Suddenly from within the gate resounded a solemnly tragic Gloria in excelsis Deo.

Chōjun (during the dance, removes his black clerical robes and assumes a resplendent appearance): Ah! There's a strange reverberation coming from within Nanban Temple.
(Coming from the depths) That sound—that sound!
What I yearn for is that sound.
Hurry, Shirahagi! That sound!
That sound!

Iruma Kizaburō: Benedicite Domine, Deus Israel.
Jesu Christe.
Sancta Maria.

In the distance, the children’s *Evening Glow* song could faintly be heard again.
The stage—the crimson haze gradually faded away, turning into a desolate blue light.

The stone wall in the background came vividly forward once more.
The music within the gate too gradually subsided.

Suddenly, from stage right, an eerie human voice.

Voice: Hey! You there! You there! Kizaburō!

A brown robe.
An elderly, emaciated samurai in hakama with high thigh guards entered from stage right, stooped and gripping his long sword’s hilt.

Old Samurai (with a terrifying visage of rage, hands and body trembling): “Hey! Kizaburō!
“You’ve dared to come here again after all.”

Iruma Kizaburō (shielding his eyes with a cross): “Oh... Uncle?”

Old Samurai: “Your mother... Ah, merely thinking of it makes tears fall... She died resenting—resenting your filial impiety.”

Iruma Kizaburō: “Yes…”
“So Mother has passed…”

Old Samurai: “You unfilial wretch!”

Iruma Kizaburō (bows his head, lost in thought; after a moment—soliloquy): “For the sake of this Great God… abandon your mother, wife, and children… Yes, it is written in the Holy Scripture—Uncle!”

Old Samurai: “Your unfilial sin might yet be forgiven—but to be led astray by this filthy foreign heresy, and worse, wantonly mislead fools...”

Iruma Kizaburō: “What… You say *I’ve* led them astray…”

Old Samurai: “Un-un-unfortunately... your life—in your father’s stead, this uncle shall... Ah, know this—it is Heaven’s punishment.”

The old samurai suddenly drew his sword and cut off Iruma’s head.
The surrounding people, all shocked and frightened, shouted “Murder! Murder!” and fled.
The monks, Chōjun, and Shirahagi alone remained.

The old samurai (wiping the blood from his sword and sheathing it, muttering to himself as though blind to the people around him) "...Atonement... atonement to the ancestors... Atonement... atonement to the ancestors..." (He staggered off toward stage right again.)

First Monk (stepping forward): “Ah! How vexing! To think [he] had been bewitched by Nanban Temple’s sorcery!”

Chōjun (chasing after the old samurai in a frenzy): “Sir! Wait!”

First Monk (suddenly seizing Chōjun by the collar): “Chōjun!”

Chōjun: “Let go! Release me!”

First Monk: “What do you mean to do with that frenzied look?”

Chōjun: “Hmph—why conceal it? Those vulgar minds shackled by hollow worldly obligations, incapable of grasping the new faith’s essence—I mean to sever that senile old man’s shriveled head and present it as my offering when entering Christianity.”

First Monk: “What? Converting to Christianity?!”

Chōjun: “I seek new mysteries.”

First Monk: “Hearken, Brethren! Chōjun declares he’ll convert to Christianity!”

Fellow Monks: “What?! Embracing heresy?!”

Again came music from within the gate—a Roman Catholic melody brimming with longing.

Chōjun: “Oh! That voice makes my soul yearn!”

Jōen (with anguished expression): “Chōjun!”
(Chōjun lowered his gaze.)

Gakutō: “Brethren—not a shred of doubt remains about Chōjun’s corruption.”
“Show no mercy.”
“Bring forth the rod.”

The First Monk: “Chōjun! Now know this!”
(He prepared to strike him with a staff.)

Jōen (interrupting): “W-wait! Brethren! Let the first strike be entrusted to this Jōen.”
“Ah, Chōjun.”
“Your mind, clouded by the six roots of worldly desires, may not comprehend my words—but as one of our old dharma brethren, I ask you to listen for a moment.”
“You and I, through a curious twist of fate, formed a bond closer than brothers. Surely you’ve not forgotten the vows we made then.”

Chōjun: Hmph.

Jōen: The teachings of the Great Benevolent King shine like the sun and moon, yet the shore of paramita lies distant. For dull-witted fools such as ourselves, the path of spiritual seeking is arduous indeed—thus did we not swear to admonish and encourage one another, to reprimand and chastise when errors arise? Though our steps may falter, we vowed there would be no negligence in our devotion—do you not remember these words?

Chōjun: Indeed, I have not forgotten…

Jōen: Farewell, Chōjun.
“Ruthless though it may be, I shall sever for you the root of heretical views that cloud your meditation.”
“Namu Amida Butsu.”
(Taking the nyoi at his waist with his right hand, he strikes Chōjun’s forehead.) “The Dharma-protecting rod—the demon-slaying sword.”

The fellow monks chanted "Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu" while striking Chōjun with their staffs.
Maiko Shirahagi, flustered, protected him.
Chōjun collapsed.

Before long, the group of monks formed a line and retreated toward stage right.

First Monk (glancing at Chōjun): “Hey, Chōjun! You haven’t even set foot on the sublime path of glorious enlightenment, the perfection of wisdom (prajnaparamita), yet you cower behind a woman’s sleeve—well now! How fitting this heretic ritual looks on you!”

The monks formed a line and began to slowly withdraw from stage right.

Gakutō: “Brethren, listen and recite: the Twilight Impermanence Gāthā.”

The fellow monks chanted: “This day has passed; life fades like ebbing tides. As fish trapped in shallow pools—what joy remains?”

Chōjun groaned from his wounds as he called to the retreating monks: “Brethren! Why cling blindly to the teachings of old sages? Can you not see this mystery? This unfathomable mystery!”

The sound of a small bell mingled with the sorrowful music from within the gate.

"Fellow monks! All assembly! Diligently apply yourselves to practice as if extinguishing a fire on your head! Contemplate only suffering and emptiness! Be ever mindful of impermanence! Do not be negligent!"

Chōjun staggered to his feet and leaned against the Nanban Temple’s gate. "Oh! Intoxicated by this mystery—what wondrous truth could there be?"
"The infant’s voice born in the depths of the heart always weeps, yearning for this mystery."

Among the fellow monks, some turned their heads to glance back at Chōjun.

Gakutō (to the fellow monks): “Brethren, do not let it seem you trouble your hearts with the Devil Papiyas’ temptations.”

Chōjun: “I weep—yearning for the fountain of new mystery—”
(He collapsed.)

Gakutō: “Sentient beings are boundless—I vow to save them all;
Defilements are inexhaustible—I vow to sever them all;
Dharma gates are limitless—I vow to master them all;
The supreme bodhisattva path—I vow to realize it all.”

Fellow monks: "Namu Amida Butsu."
"Namu Amida Butsu."
"Namu Amida Butsu."
"Namu Amida Butsu."
(All the monks exited from stage right.)

Shirahagi: "Lord Minamoto."
"—To think that even you, Lord Minamoto... It seems your voice can no longer be heard."
"Hear me, Lord Minamoto."
"Lord Minamoto... you know."

Chōjun (He makes as if to rise, then collapses again.) “Oh—how I yearn for this mystery! Yearn for this mystery!”
(His voice gradually weakens.)

Shirahagi: “Oh—Lord Minamoto… Can you still hear me? Lord Minamoto. Lord Minamoto.”

Chōjun (narrowly opening his eyes): "Otsuru... is that you?"

Shirahagi (weeping and prostrating herself): “Ah, ’tis Otsuru, you know.”

Chōjun: “Ah, Lady Otsuru. Is there no one about?”

Shirahagi (looking around): “No, no one’s around at all, you know. Seems the moon won’t show itself tonight either.”

Chōjun: “Ah, Lady Otsuru. Come closer—lend me your ear.”

Shirahagi: “Yes.”

Chōjun (changing his tone): “Ah, Otsuru... How precious that heart remains—the one that once burned for you. Had that love been fulfilled then... I’d have wanted no mysteries at all.”

(Chōjun closes his eyes.)

The tolling of the bell from within the gate ended with the sound of a small bell.

Curtain.

(February 1909 [Meiji 42])