Testimony of a Woodcutter Interrogated by the Chief of Police
Yes, that’s right, I was the one who found the body. This morning I went to cut down cedar trees on the mountain, just like I always do. I was on my way down the mountain when I saw the body hidden in a shady thicket.
You’re asking where it was, exactly? I guess it was about five or six hundred yards from Yamashina Road. That place is deserted. The bamboo mixes with the cedar trees there.
The dead man was on his back, face-up. He wore a light blue coat, and his crumpled cap was still on his head. He’d only been stabbed once, I think, but it was in the chest. The bamboo leaves around him were all stained a deep red. No, he wasn’t bleeding when I found him. I think the wound must have dried. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was a huge horsefly sucking on the wound when I walked up. The fly didn’t even notice me.
Did I see a sword or another kind of weapon? No, not that I remember. There was a length of rope lying on the roots of a cedar tree nearby. And—oh yes, I just remembered! I saw a comb next to the rope. Those were the only two things that I saw near the body. But the place was a mess—the grass and bamboo were all trampled. Before the poor man was killed, I’m sure he put up quite a fight.
Was there a horse there? No, definitely not. It’s not the sort of place that horses can get to easily. There’s a thicket separating it from the horse path.
Testimony of a Traveling Priest Questioned by the Chief of Police
I’m certain I saw the man yesterday, sir. Yesterday at around noon, I think. Near Checkpoint Hill on the way to Yamashina. He was walking toward the checkpoint with a woman on horseback. She wore a stiff straw hat with a long veil hanging down around the brim. No, I couldn’t see her face, just her robe. I think it was red with a teal lining. The horse was a dappled gray with a bit of red in its coat, and it looked like it had a clipped mane.
Was it a big horse? I’d say it was a few inches taller than most, but I’m a priest. I don’t know much about horses. The man? No, sir, he had a sword on the longer side, and he carried a bow and arrows. I can still see that black-lacquered quiver of his: he must have had twenty arrows in it, maybe more. I never would have thought that anything so terrible would happen to a man like that. Ah, what is the life of a human being—a drop of dew, a flash of lightning? This is all so terribly sad. I don't know what else to say.
The Testimony of a Policeman Questioned by the Magistrate
The man I brought in, Your Honor? He is the famous bandit, Tajōmaru. When I caught him he had fallen off his horse, and he was moaning and groaning on the stone bridge at Awataguchi. The time, Your Honor? It was last night at the first watch.1 He was wearing the same dark blue over-robe and carrying the same long sword he used the time I almost captured him. He also has a bow and arrows now. Oh, is that so, Your Honor? The dead man carried a bow and arrows, too? That settles it, then: I’m sure that Tajōmaru is the murderer. A leather-wrapped bow, a quiver in black lacquer, seventeen hawk-feather arrows—they must have belonged to the victim. And yes, as you say, the horse is a dappled gray with a touch of red, and it has a clipped mane. It’s only a dumb animal, but it gave that bandit what-for, throwing him like that. I found it was a short way past the bridge, trailing its reins on the ground and eating grass by the road.
Tajōmaru is known as a something of a ladies' man around Kyōto. Last fall, people at Toribe Temple found a woman and a child murdered on the hill behind the statue of Binzuru, where they had been praying. Everybody said Tajōmaru did it. If he killed the man, there’s no telling what he might have done to the woman who was on the horse. I don’t want to overstep my place, Your Honor, but I do think you should question him about that.
The Testimony of an Old Woman Questioned by the Magistrate
Yes, Your Honor, my daughter was married to the dead man. He is not from the capital, though. He was a samurai serving in the Wakasa provincial office. His name was Kanazawa no Takehiro, and he was twenty-six years old. He was a very kind man. I can’t believe anyone would have hated him enough to do this.
You ask of my daughter? Her name is Masago, and she is nineteen years old. She’s as bold as any man, but the only man she has ever known is Takehiro. Her skin is a little on the dark side, and she has a mole by the outside corner of her left eye, but her face is a tiny, perfect oval.
Takehiro left for Wakasa yesterday with my daughter, but who would have thought that something like this would ever happen? There’s nothing I can do for my son-in-law anymore, but what happened to my daughter? I’m worried sick about her. Oh please, sir, do everything you can to find her, leave no stone unturned: I have lived a long time, but I have never wanted anything so badly in my life. Oh how I hate that bandit—that Tajōmaru! Not only my son-in-law, but my daughter… (Here the old woman broke down crying and was unable to continue speaking.)
Tajōmaru’s Confession
Yeah, I killed the guy. But I didn’t kill the woman. So, where did she go? I don’t know. Now, wait just a minute—you can torture me all you want, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know. And besides, now that you’ve got me, I’m not going to hide anything. I’m no coward.
I met that couple yesterday, a little after noon. The second I saw them, a gust of wind lifted her veil and I got a look at her. Just a quick look: that’s maybe why she looked so perfect to me—she looked like a goddess come to earth. I made up my mind right then to take her even if I had to kill the man.
What's with that look? Killing a man isn't really that big a deal. If you’re going to take somebody’s woman, a man has to die. When I kill a man, I do it with my sword, but people like you don’t use swords. You gentlemen kill with your power, with your money, and sometimes just with your words. You tell people you’re doing them a favor. True, no blood flows, the man is still technically alive, but you’ve killed him all the same. I don’t know whose sin is greater—yours or mine. (He smiles sarcastically.)
Of course, if you can take the woman without killing the man, that's better. That's what I was hoping to do yesterday. It would have been impossible on the road, of course, so I thought I would lure them off-road and into the hills.
It was easy. I fell in with them on the road and made up a story. I told them I had found an old burial mound in the hills, and when I opened it it was full of swords and mirrors and things. I said I had buried the stuff in a bamboo grove on the other side of the mountain to keep anyone from finding out about it, and I’d sell it cheap to the right buyer. The man was interested. It’s scary what greed can do to people, don’t you think? In less than an hour, I led them and their horse up a mountain trail.
When we reached the grove, I told them the treasure was buried in there and they should come inside with me and look for it. The man wanted the treasure so bad that there was no way he'd refuse, but the woman said she’d wait there on the horse. I figured that would happen—the woods are so thick. They fell right into my trap. We left the woman alone and went into the grove.
It was all bamboo at first. Fifty yards or so inside, there was a sort of open space surrounded by cedars—the perfect place for what I was planning to do. I pushed through the thicket and made up some nonsense about how the treasure was buried under one of them. When he heard that, the man charged toward some scrawny cedars visible up ahead. The bamboo thinned out, and the trees were standing there in a row. As soon as we got to them, I grabbed him and pinned him down. He was a strong man—he carried a sword—but I took him by surprise, and he couldn’t do a thing. I had him tied to the base of a tree in no time. Where did I get the rope? Well, I’m a thief. I might have to scale a wall at any time, so I’ve always got a piece of rope in my belt. I stuffed his mouth full of bamboo leaves to keep him quiet. Easy as that.
Once I finished with the man, I went and told the woman that her husband was ill and she should come and have a look at him. She fell for it, of course. She took off her hat and let me lead her by the hand into the grove. As soon as she saw the man tied to the tree, she whipped a dagger out of her breast. I never saw a woman with such fierceness! If I’d been off my guard, she’d have stuck that thing right through me. And the way she kept coming, she would have done me some damage eventually no matter how much I dodged. Still, I am Tajōmaru. I managed to knock the knife out of her hand without drawing my sword. Even the most spirited woman is going to be helpless if she hasn’t got a weapon. And so I was able to make the woman mine without taking her husband’s life.
Yes, you heard me: I killed the guy, but I didn't murder him. Up until that point I wasn’t planning to kill him. The woman was on the ground, crying, and I was getting ready to run out of the grove and leave her there when all of a sudden she grabbed my arm like some kind of crazy person. And then I heard what she was saying between sobs. “Either you die or my husband dies. It has to be one of you. It’s worse than death for me to have two men see my shame. I want to stay with the one left alive, whether it’s you or him.” That gave me want to kill her husband. (Muted excitement.)
Hmph. You probably think I’m crueler than you are. But you didn’t see the look on her face—you never saw the way her eyes were burning at that moment. When those eyes met mine, I knew I wanted to make her my wife. Let the thunder god kill me, I’d make her my wife—that was the only thought in my head. And no, not just from lust. I know that’s what you're thinking. If lust was all I felt for her, I’d already taken care of that. I could’ve just kicked her down and run out of there. I didn't have to kill the man. But the moment my eyes locked onto hers in that dark grove, I knew I couldn’t leave that place until I had killed him.
Still, I didn’t want to kill him while he was tied to the tree like a coward. I untied him and challenged him to a sword fight. That piece of rope they found was the one I threw aside then. The man looked furious as he drew his sword, and he sprang at me in a rage. I don’t have to tell you what happened next. My sword pierced his chest on the twenty-third thrust. Not till the twenty-third: I want you to keep that in mind. I admire him for that. He’s the only man who ever lasted even twenty thrusts against me. (Cheerful smile.)
As he went down, I lowered my bloody sword and turned toward the woman. But she was gone! I looked for her among the cedars, but the bamboo leaves on the ground showed no sign she’d ever been there. I listened for any sound of her, but all I could hear was the man’s death throes.
Maybe she ran through the underbrush to call for help when the sword fight started. The thought made me fear for my life. I grabbed the man’s sword and his bow and arrows and headed straight for the mountain road. The woman’s horse was still there, just chewing on grass. It doesn't matter what happened after that. I got rid of his sword before coming to Kyōto, though.
That’s my confession. I always knew I would end up hanging from the tree outside the prison some day, so give me your worst punishment. (Defiant attitude.)
Confession of a Woman in the Kiyomizu Temple
After the man in the blue robe had his way with me, he looked at my husband, all tied up, and taunted him. My husband must have felt so humiliated! He squirmed and twisted in the ropes that covered his body, but the knots only ate deeper into his flesh. Stumbling, I ran to his side. That is, I tried to run to him, but the man kicked me down. There was an indescribable light in my husband’s eyes. Truly, I cannot describe it. It makes me shudder to recall it even now. My husband was unable to say a word, and yet, in that moment, his eyes conveyed his whole heart to me. What I saw shining there was not anger nor sorrow. It was the cold flash of contempt—contempt for me. This struck me more painfully than the bandit’s kick. I cried out and collapsed.
When I regained consciousness, the man in blue was gone. The only one in the grove was my husband, still tied to the cedar tree. I barely managed to raise myself on ground covered by dead bamboo leaves. I looked into my husband’s face. His eyes were exactly as they had been before, with that same cold look of contempt in them. How can I describe the emotion that filled my heart then? Shame… sorrow… anger… I staggered over to him.
“Oh, my husband! Now that this has happened, I cannot go on living with you. I am prepared to die here and now. But you—yes, I want you to die as well. You witnessed my shame. I cannot leave you behind when you have seen it.”
I struggled to say everything I needed to say, but my husband stared at me in disgust and did nothing else. I felt as if my heart would burst open at any moment, but I held my feelings back and searched the bamboo grove for his sword. The bandit must have taken it—I couldn’t find it anywhere—and my husband’s bow and arrows were gone as well. Then I found the dagger at my feet. I brandished it before my husband and spoke to him again.
“This is the end, then. Please allow me to take your life. I will quickly follow you in death.”
When he heard this, my husband moved his lips. His mouth was stuffed with bamboo leaves, so he couldn’t make a sound, but I knew immediately what he was saying. With total contempt for me, he said only, “Do it.” Drifting somewhere between dream and reality, I thrust the dagger through his pale blue robe.
Then I lost consciousness again. When I was able to look around me again, my husband was no longer breathing. He remained tied to the tree. The light of the setting sun shone across his face, ashen-pale, filtered through the leaves of the bamboo and cedar trees growing above. Gulping back tears, I untied him and cast the rope aside. And then—and then what happened to me? I no longer have the strength to tell it. I failed to kill myself. I tried to stab myself in the throat. I threw myself in a pond at the foot of the mountain. Nothing worked. I am still here, and I am not proud of my inability to die. (Forlorn expression.) Perhaps even Kannon, bodhisattva of compassion,2 has turned away from me for being so weak. But now that I have killed my husband, now that I have been violated by a bandit—what can I do? Tell me, what can I… (Sudden violent sobbing.)
The Testimony of the Dead Man’s Spirit Told through a Medium
After the bandit had his way with my wife, he sat there for awhile and tried to comfort her. I could say nothing, of course, and I was bound to the cedar tree. But I kept trying to signal her with my eyes: Don’t believe anything he tells you. He’s lying, no matter what he says. I tried to convey my meaning to her, but she just went on cringing there on the fallen bamboo leaves, staring at her knees. And, you know, I could see she was listening to him. I writhed with jealousy, but the bandit kept his smooth talk going from one point to the next. “Now that your flesh has been sullied, things will never be the same with your husband. Don’t stay with him—come and be my wife! It’s because I love you so much that I was so wild with you.” The bandit had the gall to speak to her like that!
When my wife raised her face in response to him, she seemed almost spellbound. I had never seen her look so beautiful as she did at that moment. And what do you think this beautiful wife of mine said to the bandit, in my presence—in the presence of her husband, who was bound hand and foot? My spirit may be wandering now between one life and the next, but every time I recall her answer, I burn with anger. “All right,” she told him, “take me anywhere you like.” (Long silence.)
And that was not her only crime against me. If that were all she did, I would not be suffering so here in the darkness. With him leading her by the hand, she was stepping out of the bamboo grove as if in a dream, when suddenly the color drained from her face and she pointed back to me. “Kill him!” she screamed. “Kill him! I can’t be with you as long as he lives!” Again and again she screamed, as if she had lost her senses, “Kill him!” Even now her words like a windstorm threaten to blow me headlong into the darkest depths. Have such damnable words ever reached the ears of a human being before? Have such— (Derisive laughter.) Even the bandit went pale when he heard her. She clung to his arm and screamed again, "Kill him!" The bandit stared at her. He did not say if he would kill me or if he would not. The next thing I knew, he sent my wife sprawling on the bamboo leaves with a single kick. (More derisive laughter.) The bandit calmly folded his arms and turned to look at me.
"What do you want me to do with her?" he asked. "Kill her or let her go? Just nod to answer. Kill her?" For this if for nothing else, I am ready to forgive the bandit his crimes. (Long silence.)
When I hesitated with my answer, my wife let out a scream and darted into the depths of the bamboo thicket. He sprang after her, but I don't think he even managed to lay a hand on her sleeve. I watched the spectacle as if it were some kind of vision.
After my wife ran off, the bandit picked up my sword and bow and arrows, and he cut my ropes at one place. "Now it's my turn to run," I he muttered as he disappeared from the thicket. Then the whole area was quiet. No—I could hear someone crying. While I was untying myself, I listened to the sound, until I realized—I realized that I was the one crying. (Another long silence.)
I finally raised myself, exhausted, from the foot of the tree. Lying there before me was the dagger that my wife had dropped. I picked it up and shoved it into my chest. Blood rose to my mouth, but I felt no pain at all. My chest grew cold, and then everything sank into stillness. Perfect silence! In the skies above that bamboo grove on the hidden side of the mountain, there was not a single chirp of birdsong. The last light of the sun lingered among the high branches of cedar and bamboo. As the sunlight faded, so too did the cedars and bamboo. I lay there wrapped in deep silence.
Then stealthy footsteps approached. I tried to see who it was, but the darkness had closed in all around me. Someone—that someone gently pulled the dagger from my chest. Again a rush of blood filled my mouth, but then I sank into the darkness between lives.
Akutagawa Ryūnosuke
December 1921
1 First watch for the military starts at 8:00 PM.↩
2 Kannon (Japanese: 観音) The proper Japanese name of this Buddhist god is Kanzeon Bosatsu, in English often called a goddess of compassion and mercy. Kannon is not a Buddha, but a Bodhisattva, a being who is able to achieve Nirvana but delays doing so through compassion for suffering beings. Kannon is extremely popular in Japan.↩
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