The front gates of the Temple of Waterfalls were high and imposing- thick wood painted red and speckled with the dark shapes of rivets that held the ancient hardwood fast against all who might try to enter those walls.  Next to the gates was a large bronze bell hanging from a stone outcropping, and beside it was a small log tied up to another outcropping so that it hung with one cloth-wrapped end facing the bell.

Having rung the bell, the trio now waited.

It didn’t take long before there was a creaking noise and a black gap appeared between the two vaulted doors as they swung inward. From between them, three dark robed monks appeared and came out to greet the trio, each of them bald as they day they were born and wearing wooden beaded Ju necklaces.

“In Buddha’s name, we greet you,” said the leader of the three, and all bowed in unison.

Jiro returned their bow, with Masato rushing to copy him and Taro just staring.

“Thank you, hoshi. We are sorry to trouble you at this hour, but we seek an audience with the Abbot Kiyomizu.”

Jiro caught surprise for a second on the leader’s face, and then it quickly returned to the pacific smile it had been.

“I am sorry, traveller.” The monk said in a sympathetic tone. “The Abbot is not here. He has been called away to another temple.”

“I see,” Jiro licked his lips. This wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for. Still, he had to trundle on. “Would it be possible to have an audience with your senior monk, then?”

“Of course,” the monk stepped back and gestured inside. “Please, enter sanctuary.”

*                             *                             *

The main hall of the temple was long, with a vaulted ceiling held up by a row of red pillars, and ending in a golden statue of the Buddha. Before the central altar, the purple robed elders of the temple had gathered to meet their guests, their leader standing before them adorned with an additional orange outer sash hanging off one shoulder.

“I am…” He began to say in introduction, but was suddenly cut off by Jiro.

“Fukui?” Jiro blurted in surprise. “Fukui-san? Is that you?”

The senior monk’s blank expression changed to an uncomfortable one. “I am the acting abbot of this temple,” he pressed on. “My religious name is Ryosen. Welcome to our temple.”

Jiro was surprised at his old comrade’s coldness, and wanted to press the issue, but decided that now wasn’t the time.

“We are honoured to meet you, Elder Ryosen.” Jiro bowed. “I am Yamaguchi Jiro, retainer of Lord Inuyama. This is my apprentice Masato, and my lord’s second son, Inuyama no Taro.”

Jiro then went on to explain their situation, and their goals, all the while watching the elders of the temple exchange ever more anxious glances. He couldn’t blame them, if anyone learned that they had helped Jiro’s party escape they would be a very dangerous position. However, Buddhist monks were obligated to show mercy to travellers in distress, even ones such as they.

Ryosen listened carefully to Jiro’s explanation, showing none of the distress his comrades did, and then when Jiro had finished the older man nodded sagely.

“Buddha has brought you to us. We will not turn you away.” He announced. “You will be given shelter here. However, I must tell you that we may not be able to offer you everything you seek.”

“Elder?” Jiro asked, in fact he was slightly older than Ryosen was, but used the term out of respect.

Ryosen gave a deep sigh. “Recent heavy rains have damaged the bridges which connect us to the other side. A crossing may be…difficult, but we will do our best.”

“I see…” Jiro considered, then bowed again. “We appreciate your efforts.”

“But you have had a long trip here,” the Elder gestured towards one of the novice monks. “We will discuss this later. Follow this brother and he will find you a place to sleep and something to fill your bellies. I am afraid our fare here will be simple compared to what you are used to, but what we have we will happily share.”

“Not at all,” Jiro responded politely. “We’re so sorry for troubling you.”

*                             *                             *

Masato showed the sense he’d had in the Inn of a Thousand Lanterns a few days earlier and waited until they were alone before he spoke.

“Sensei, do you know the elder?”

Taro paused from wolfing down his rice and pickled radishes to look at Jiro as well.

“Aye,” Jiro said, leaning back onto the tatami floor with his sake cup. “He was one of our lord’s samurai. We both entered his service around the same time, and Fukui-san and I were both juniors under Inuyama no Hanzo- our lord’s cousin.”

“Really? He knew my uncle?” Taro asked.

Jiro nodded. “He did, young master. But I wouldn’t expect him to talk of fond memories. Fukui-san was caught gambling after your uncle had expressly forbidden it, and forced to leave our lord’s service.” Then Jiro smiled ruefully. “I always wondered what became of him.”

“Looks like he’s gone straight, sensei.” Masato offered.

“Yes,” Taro agreed. “He has achieved a great honourable position.”

“I suppose,” Jiro said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t have expected it of him, but I have heard it said religion changes some people.”

“Sensei, do you think we’ll be able to cross tonight?”

Jiro shook his head. “If the bridge is damaged, I doubt it. We’ll have to wait the night here and learn the truth of things in the morning.”

*                             *                             *

Some small distance away, the swordsman Kiba Gempei was in the middle of a dinner of his own at a local Inn, although the fare on his table was considerably richer than that which the trio ate. He was the guest of the commander of a nearby garrison, and had stopped for the night with his soldiers to take a break in their search.

As the two men dined, there was a sudden knock at the door, and after the requisite courtesies a lieutenant of the garrison delivered a message to his commander. Yohei’s host read it, then dismissed the messenger to wait outside.

“Good news, I hope?” Gempei asked in a tired voice. He’d been on the road for the past two days straight, and was looking forward to a soft night’s rest.

“Neither good nor bad,” the officer said, drinking a cup of sake. “A signal fire has been lit at one of the mountain temples. Seems the bozu have something they wish to tell us.”

“Really? Which temple?”

The commander shrugged. “That one next to the waterfall that Kiyomizu used to run before Lord Kurokawa had him replaced. The new elder is always trying to get me to go up there so he can pester me for donations.”

Gempei nodded, thoughtfully. “Is there a bridge from that temple to the other side, perchance?”

The commander indicated there was.

Gempei turned his sake cup upside down and called for his men.

“You asked to see me, elder?”

The elder Ryosen turned from the window, his sallow features filled with shadows from the candle-light and making him look much older than his forty or so winters. He did his best to smile.

“Yes, Yamaguchi-san.” He slid the window covering shut and gestured toward the table that had been prepared with sake and cups in the middle of the room. “Please, join me.”

Jiro cracked a smile. “Isn’t wine one of the great enemies of holy men, elder?”

“Wine is forbidden to those who seek the way,” agreed the elder solemnly as they both sat down on the floor around the table. “However, sometimes one must leave the path of righteousness and take a break for the good of the spirit.”

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“Are you saying monks are only human?”

“All monks are men, and all men have past lives.” Said the elder, pouring out two wooden bowls of wine.

“Well then,” said Jiro cheerfully, raising his bowl in a toast. “Here’s to the past. Kampai!”

The elder echoed his sentiment and both men downed their bowls in a single swallow. Then as the elder refilled them, he finally allowed himself a smile.

“It is good to see you, Yamaguchi. I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you more warmly when you first arrived, but discussion of past lives is discouraged here and I need to set an example.”

Jiro shook his head. “No, I was wrong to bring it up. I should have remembered that and let you approach me first. Forgive me.”

Ryosen handed him a bowl. “There is nothing to forgive, my friend. How is your life in these troubled times?”

Jiro responded by telling him the state of the Inuyama clan and the events that had lead up to Jiro and Masato’s mission to the Kurokawa lands. Ryosen listened with a frown, and nodded sadly. “I may not have been a part of the clan for some time, but I still have a place in my heart for it. I am sorry to hear of these misfortunes.”

“Good and bad. Good and bad. It’s the way of the world,” said Jiro philosophically, looking at his old friend. “But if you can help us get across to the other side, you could save a lot of lives, Fukui-san.”

The elder looked away, refusing to meet his old comrade’s gaze. “We will see the state of the bridge in the morning.” He said with some anxiety. “A crossing at night is too dangerous.”

Jiro watched him for a time, then shrugged. “I didn’t say it had to be tonight. Besides, you have your responsibilities to think of- you are the elder of the temple after all.”

That brought an ironic smile to Ryosen’s face and he downed his wine. “Yes, elder of the temple.” Then he looked at Jiro- “I envy you, Yamaguchi. You have both your duty and your freedom, it seems I only have duty.”

Jiro raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” the elder nodded. “I wanted to run this temple, and now that I do I can see what a task it is. I am responsible for keeping nearly sixty men fed and clothed in this crumbling old place. They seek peace while I seek money and donations. They seek enlightenment, while I seek survival.” He shook his head. “I feel like a firefly who cannot escape a forest of spiders.”

“What of the abbot, Kiyomizu?” Jiro asked. “Won’t he return soon and relieve you of this burden?”

That got another ironic smile. “Kiyomizu will be gone a long time, and I must sit in his cold place until he returns- if he returns.”

“You always were one to get yourself into tight spots,” Jiro said, trying to lighten the mood. “Remember when we were fighting in Taniguchi and you got into it with some of Lord Kaze’s men?”

Ryosen nodded. “They accused me of cheating at dice, and I realized the rest of you had gone to another inn. It was a miracle I got out of that one.”

Jiro smirked. “So tell me the truth- did you really fight your way out?”

“Of course not!” Ryosen finally laughed. “I started a fight with a gangster and crawled out on my hands and knees while everyone went at it around me!”

The two old soldiers talked long into the night.

*                        *                        *

The hit woke Masato up.

He’d been struck across the face before, but this really hurt, and he glared at the boy on the blanket next to him whose flying hand had done the deed. But, despite the glaring, Taro’s snoring was his only response, and Masato quickly gave up his thoughts of payback- this kid was possibly his future lord, after all.

Sitting up, he looked around in the moonlight that filtered through the oiled paper windows.

Jiro was on the far side of the room, closest to the door, and sound asleep. He’d come back sometime earlier, reeking of alcohol and humming a tune Masato didn’t know. Masato did wonder where he’d found alcohol in the temple, but decided it was better not to ask and had rolled over and gone back to sleep.

This time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to return to sleep so easily, and made his way quietly to the door while giving Jiro a large berth. The last thing he needed was to startle awake a drunk samurai who slept with his sword close at hand. Slipping on his sandals in the alcove, he slid open the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Now the question was which was to go?

It had perhaps been an oversight not to ask where the monks made water when they’d been shown to their rooms, and now Masato was faced with the prospect of wandering around in a strange and poorly lit temple in the middle of the night.

Not sure which way led out, he decided his best choice was to go left and see where it took him. Sure enough, once he’d gone a short distance he found another pair of corridors, and he decided to go left again in hopes that he’d be able to find his way back by just going right a few times.

It was a reasonable strategy, and luckily for him the third left led him outside into one of the temple courtyards. Everything outside seemed to shine in the moonlight- all the surfaces slick and wet with the mist from the waterfall.

Seeing a nearby tree at the wall’s edge, Masato wandered over to it and started to do his business. He wondered if it was bad luck to pee in a temple, but then reasoned since the monks must themselves urinate it should be okay. Unless they studied a way to keep their pee inside- he hadn’t really considered that. They were supposed to know special tricks with their bodies, and it might explain why they seemed so crotchety all the time when they talked to him…

Just as he was finishing up, Masato heard a soft but deep gonging noise from somewhere near the temple entrance. Curious, he pulled up his trousers and began to wander in that direction.

The temple had several courtyards, each one terraced at a different level than the others. Masato guessed he was in a middle one, and his suspicions were confirmed as he entered a doorway to find himself standing on a balcony looking down on the main courtyard below.

Far to the other side of the open grounds, he could see torches being carried to the main doors of the temple, and there was a long low groaning sound as the doors began to swing open.

Masato watched as what seemed like a small army of black armoured samurai poured through the gates and into the temple, and at their lead rode a man he had last seen unconscious by his master’s hand.

The Kurokawa had found them!

Standing in the courtyard, the elder priest Ryosen bowed deeply before Kiba Gempei, as did the other senior members of the temple.

“We are honoured by your presence, my lord. It is a most unexpected pleasure.”

Gempei looked at the monks with disdain- he considered them loafers and men who had failed to make something of their lives. The fact that this one seemed a little drunk only confirmed his suspicions of these men as a class. As he saw it, they were of little use except as political pawns and occasionally as go-betweens when a message needed to be delivered covertly. Tonight they were neither, and he intended to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“The signal flame,” he said, looking around. “Why did you burn it?”

“Ah?” Ryosen said, and Gempei saw a look of surprise on his red face for a moment. “Yes…we…have visitors that may be of interest to the Kurokawa.”

“Who?”

“A samurai and two boys.” Said elder with a polite bow.

Gempei couldn’t help but clutch the hilt of his sword in anticipation of success. “Take me to them,” he ordered, and the elder lead the Kurokawa samurai and his warriors through the series of courtyards to the guest quarters. It was getting toward dawn, but the corridors were still dark, and the temple dimly lit.

Upon arrival, Gempei had his men fan out, covering the exits, then he sent two men up to the room’s sliding door. They crouched by the door, slowly pulling it partially open to look inside, then the one who looked in turned to Gempei and shook his head.

The room was empty- they were already gone!

*          *          *

Jiro lead his charges on a run through the early morning temple, pausing at corners and doorways to watch out for monks and finding none. He didn’t know how the Kurokawa had found them, but he knew they had only one way out- if his suspicions were correct.

Finally, the trio came to the edge where the temple grounds met the river. There was no wall here, because none was needed, the rushing waters and the roaring waterfall were a defence against all but the most suicidal.

Just back from the head of the waterfall, the two stone pillars that marked the entrance to the temple bridge could be seen. Each pillar had a lantern with a lit flame inside carved out of stone at its head, and thick ropes wrapped around its base to anchor the bridge. Beyond the pillars, the rope bridge disappeared into the fog shrouded night.

Before the bridge, under the flickering light of the two lanterns, a pair of broad shouldered monks brandishing staffs stood like the twin warriors who guarded the gates of hell.

Inwardly, Jiro gave a little sigh of relief at seeing the guards. Even though they were an obstacle that would have to be overcome, they meant that the bridge was in fact crossable- after all, who guards a broken bridge?

With a motion to stay back, Jiro turned and looked at the two boys crouched in the mouth of the alley.

“Masato,” he told the elder boy. “There’s two guards and a fight would take too much of our time. I will distract them- you and Taro will flee across and wait for me on the other side.”

“But…Sensei!” Masato protested, and behind him Taro also looked worried.

Jiro cut them off with a motion of his hand, and then rested it on Masato’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to protect the young lord. Can you do it?”

Masato looked at his teacher with worry in his eyes, but then he sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “I will, sensei.”

“Good lad,” Jiro patted his shoulder and turned, preparing to go.

*      *      *

Masato watched his teacher approach the guards, using the stubby bushes that grew near the water as cover. At first he considered that his sensei was going a rather poor job of sneaking up on the guards, but then it occurred to him that this was in fact the point.

Sure enough, when he’d come to the edge of the misty lantern light, one of the guards suddenly spotted him and raised a call in challenge. This made Jiro leap up, and sprint past the guards, fleeing toward the falls, and away from where the two boys hid.

Seeing that both guards were now following Jiro, Masato turned and looked at the shivering Taro, who stood there clutching his travel sack of scrolls. Masato wasn’t sure if his shivering was because of the damp morning chill, or if the boy was just afraid, but he knew he had to do something.

“It’ll be okay, my lord.” He said, reaching back to pat Taro on the shoulder just as Jiro had done to him. “Sensei will meet us on the other side, so let’s go.”

The boy, still clearly unsure, nodded his head in agreement, and Masato turned, taking one last look to make sure the guards were still gone. Seeing nothing but the empty pillars, and the lanterns glowing ghostly in the fog, Masato started to run for the bridge with Taro close behind him.

They were almost to the bridge when it happened.

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There was a thud behind him, and Masato suddenly skidded to a halt on the wet stone, then looked back to see Taro flailing on the ground. At first his heart shook with fear at the thought something might have happened, but then he saw the younger boy pull himself upright and realized he’d only slipped.

Returning quickly, he found Taro quickly stuffing fallen scrolls back into his sack. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Taro half-cried, clearly very afraid, but Masato ignored the boy, helping to gather the scrolls.

Emotion wouldn’t help, he knew from his teacher, he needed to just focus on getting the job done. Those who became emotional couldn’t do anything well and he fought to keep his feelings under control for his young lord’s sake.

“Let’s go,” he told Taro as he helped him up. “We need to…”

The arrow whizzed through the air and struck the ground just in front of them, lodging there with a sharp “twang!”

Like an army of demons, the black-clad armoured samurai materialized from the foggy darkness behind them, causing Masato to nearly faint.

“Don’t move boy,” ordered Kiba Gempei, notching another arrow and pointing it at Masato. “Or the next one goes through your heart.”

When he thought he’d gone far enough, Jiro turned on his pursuers and drew his sword. This caused the two large monks to skid to a halt and raise their bo-staffs in a defencive position.

It was an old contest- the staff, a good weapon to use in defence, had the advantage of reach and power. The sword, on the other hand, was a weapon of speed and lethal accuracy, and in the hands of a master like Jiro one cut was all that was needed.

Under the moonlight, in the world of shadows and greys, the three men watched each other, frozen as if statues, each trying to think their way through a battle that could mean life and death. The two monks would have trained together, would know a common style and be used to fighting in concert- this gave them the advantage of power through unity. Jiro, in opposition, was a warrior of long experience in many situations, and he knew not just how monks fought, but how they fought in pairs.

The stillness seemed to last hours, but in reality only a few seconds had passed, and feeling both a need for time and having a certainty that he could finish this quickly- Jiro elected to act first.

But, just as his muscles tensed to strike, there was a voice calling out in the night.

“Stop!” Said the breathless voice. “Stop now!”

The monks paused, not sure what this might mean, and perhaps feeling a little relief at the idea of not having to fight. Jiro, for his part, froze in place, but was no less dangerous.

“Both of you,” the elder Ryosen wheezed as he came running up to stop next to the monks. “Don’t fight. Don’t…fight.” He waved his hand, gesturing to them to move away, and also waved another hand at Jiro while he caught his breath.

Hearing the elder’s words, the two guardians took a step back, still keeping an eye on the elder samurai.

“Yamaguchi-san.” Ryosen told him. “Put away your sword, and come with me right now.”

Jiro eyed him angrily. “The Kurokawa are here.”

“Yes,” Ryosen nodded, regaining his composure and meeting his old comrade’s gaze without flinching. “They are here, and they have your two young boys. Both of whom will die, unless you lay down your arms and become my prisoner.

*     *     *

The sky had begun to brighten, and the birds were calling the first cries of dawn, as Gempei watched his men place the two captives against the wall. Around the samurai and his men, a number of the monks had gathered to watch from a short distance away.

Let them watch, thought Gempei. These charlatans needed to learn to respect their betters, and a little reminder of who was in charge would be a good thing.

As he watched, Lord Inuyama’s younger son protested his treatment at the hands of the soldier. This earned him a slap and he was shoved down into his place- a tickle of blood running from a split lip.

Gempei shook his head- noble brat. The sooner someone put some sense into that one, the better. If he’d had any, he would have joined with his brother and begged Lord Kurokawa for forgiveness and refuge. Instead he’d gone with Jiro and this other boy, and this is what it’d gotten him.

Jiro? Considered Gempei, wondering where his elder rival was. He had men searching the temple for him, but there had been no word…

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Then there was a shout to “make way” from behind the gathered onlookers, and they parted to reveal just the man he’d been thinking of being lead by two of the temple’s larger monks. Behind them was Elder Ryosen, walking stiff as a board.

In a flash, Gempei had rushed to Jiro, drawn the sword this man had stolen from the sheath carried by one of the guards, and swung it to the prisoner’s throat.

“You stole my blade and my honour,” Gempei raged as he lay the naked steel against the older man’s flesh. “Your head will be my gift to our lord.” Then he barked orders at the two monks who held Jiro’s arms- “Make him kneel so I can finish this.”

When the two monks hesitated, Gempei raised his blade toward them. “Why do you wait? Do it!”

Suddenly Ryosen was between them prostrating, his head touching the ground at Gempei’s feet. “Please, my lord!” He wailed. “Show mercy! These are temple grounds. Show mercy!”

Gempei looked down at the begging man in contempt. “This man has wronged me! Do you think the gods don’t know that?”

“Buddha is merciful!” Responded the elder. “He grants mercy to those who have sinned, and shows them the shining way.”

Gempei shook his head. “Save your nonsense, priest. I’ll have none of it. This is between warriors, and your god has no place here.”

But the older man kept begging, and Gempei noticed that not only were the monks grumbling, but a few of his own men didn’t seem especially happy about the situation either. At last, he took his sheath from the monk who held it and let his sword drop into it.

“Don’t think this former man has saved you, Jiro.” He said, looking into the older samurai’s still-defiant eyes. “As soon as we’re free of this retched place I will mount your head atop my banner and give you a good view of your lord’s soon to be former lands.”

Then a gong sounded, deep and low.

“My lord,” said the Elder Ryosen, getting up and brushing the mud off his knees. “Will you dine with us before you start your journey? It is a poor fare, but we will offer it gladly.”

At first, Gempei was going to decline, but then his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the officer’s party at dinner the night before and he decided that vengeance could wait a short time longer.

Sparing Jiro a glance as the man was tied up and placed with the boys, he ordered several of his men to stand guard, and then nodded to the priest. “Lead on.”