Rain-Bell Lament

Threads of rain wove themselves into a net over heaven and earth. It was not a heavy rain, yet there was nowhere to hide from it. By the dead of night the downpour had not lessened, and not a soul remained in the streets of the little town. From far away came the faint, clear sound of a bell, thin and lingering, echoing through the rain-drenched lanes. A figure emerged from one such alley and followed the bell as if bewitched, like a man chasing a ghost. Looking closely, one saw that it was a young man. A woman gave a soft laugh, so light it left no trace, yet the speaker could not be seen. Under the pitch-black sky, the whole thing was mysterious to the point of dread. The young man did not know that the road he walked led straight to hell. That tomb was where they belonged. Yesterday it had rained as well, yet the air had not turned cool. The hour was already slipping toward dusk, though the cicadas still cried in waves. Risen Mochizuki gripped the sword in his hand and hurried along the mountain road. He had to reach Suzukawa before dark and carry out the orders he had received from the magistrate's office: he was to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances in the prefecture. The missing were all young men in their twenties, all with betrothals already arranged, all only days away from marriage. And yet in a single night they had vanished into thin air. A pavilion appeared in his line of sight. When he drew nearer, he saw there was a woman inside. Her hair was braided into two lengths. She wore a dress of vivid red, cut daringly low at the chest, enough to show the gold breast cloth beneath. Such bold clothing ought to have seemed vulgar, yet on her it carried a strange nobility instead. It did not look like the fashion of the capital. Was she from the western lands? Risen Mochizuki kept his eyes from lingering on the pale smoothness of her skin and bowed politely instead. When he looked up again, he saw a lovely face with the faintest trace of mischief. The woman smiled. "No need to be so formal, sir. You must be tired from the road. If you don't mind, will you share a cup of wine with me?" He put aside his caution and sat with her in the pavilion, draining at one breath the cup she handed him. The wine tasted sweet as honey. She told him that she had indeed come from the western countries to these eastern provinces, and that she lived outside Suzukawa. This pavilion, too, she had built for herself, because she loved the sunsets here. So Suzukawa was not far off after all. "And you, sir?" she asked. "You seem to be a traveler from elsewhere. What brings you to Suzukawa?"

The matter of the investigation was confidential and ought not to have been discussed with a stranger. Yet for reasons he himself could not understand, Risen Mochizuki could not hold his tongue. The moment his lips parted, the truth spilled out as though he had been enchanted. "I have come to Suzukawa to investigate the recent disappearances." The woman heard him without any visible change in expression. She merely filled his cup once more with honey wine and said, "You have had a hard journey, then." Between one cup and the next, the sky darkened. Only then did Risen Mochizuki remember that he still needed to reach Suzukawa before nightfall and secure lodging. He stood to take his leave. After only two steps he turned back and asked, "May I know your name?" Her smile bloomed. "At last you ask." Then she said, "My name is Yurin." He let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. "My name is Risen Mochizuki," he said. "I hope we will meet again." Yurin watched his retreating back, and a trace of sorrow rose suddenly in her eyes. Should I meet you again, she wondered, or never again at all?

In the prefectural hall, Risen Mochizuki presented the token of the magistrate's office and took the seat of authority while the governor stood to one side and explained the case in detail. It was much as he had expected. There were very few clues. It did not look like kidnapping for ransom, nor like murder and concealment of the corpse. Every disappearance had taken place in the victim's own room. The clothes they had changed out of were still hanging neatly on the screen, which suggested they had left in the middle of sleep.

By rights, if they had gone out of their own accord, they should at least have put on their clothes. If they had been taken by force, there ought to have been some trace of struggle. Yet everything had been left in such neat order. Risen Mochizuki frowned and could not help sighing. The governor, eager to please, urged him to take heart. "Master Mochizuki, investigations are never settled in a single day. Since there are no clues at present, why not relax a little and enjoy this county's coming Princess Consort Festival?" The Princess Consort Festival? Risen Mochizuki then remembered that decades ago a woman from Suzukawa had once married into a royal house in the capital, a romance famous in its day. Still, his interest was slight. He looked up through the window instead. The sun hung halfway across the sky; in another hour it would set. Suddenly Yurin's face flashed through his mind. He decided he would go and see her. The decision lightened his heart at once. Yet when he reached the pavilion, she was nowhere to be seen, and disappointment rose unbidden in him. The next moment he heard a woman's lovely voice behind him. "Master Mochizuki." His spirits flew up at once as he turned. "Miss Yurin." She stood there smiling as before, but there was even more delight in the corners of her eyes than there was in his own. She had been on her way to Suzukawa to watch the Princess Consort Festival and had never expected to meet him here. Naturally, he at once volunteered to accompany her. By the time they returned to Suzukawa it was already dark, and lanterns of every kind had been lit along the streets. They made their way toward the densest crowds. Risen Mochizuki did his best to shield a space for her among the press, and when the crush of people became too much, he glanced about, took her by the waist, and with a sweep of light-foot skill carried her up to a nearby rooftop. From there they saw the ritual platform rising in the open ground amid the moving sea of heads. It stood twenty-odd feet high, splendid and grand, lit by a forest of candles. "How beautiful," Yurin murmured. Yet in her eyes there was a shadow of loneliness that Risen caught at once. She raised her head and asked him, "Do you know the story of that Princess Consort?" He shook his head and listened as she began to tell it. "She was a fortunate woman," Yurin said. "And a deeply tragic one. A woman's happiness comes from the man she loves. That is the source of ten thousand sorrows in this world. Fifty years ago the Princess Consort and the Fourth Prince loved each other with a true heart. He once gave her a precious token of love, and she was deeply moved by it. After they were married, the prince knew she could not grow used to life in the capital, and he himself had grown weary of the intrigues at court, so the two of them returned to settle in the countryside outside the county. Their days were carefree and full of joy. Then one day an imperial summons came, saying that the emperor was gravely ill and wished to see his younger brother one last time. The prince could not harden his heart enough to refuse, yet he was adamant that she should not accompany him. Perhaps, somewhere in his own heart, he already foresaw that this journey back to the capital would end badly. Before he left, he instructed her again and again to wait for him, no matter what. And sure enough, the emperor was not ill at all. The moment the prince returned, he was arrested and condemned on the charge that he had been plotting rebellion from Suzukawa. From then on, the Princess Consort never again saw him come home. Others told her that he had already been executed in the capital, but she refused to believe it. Stubbornly she held that he would keep the promise he had given her. One day, surely, he would come back to her. The days passed one by one. At last, perhaps, she gave up hope. She walked into the tomb he had built two years earlier, where the two of them were meant to be buried together after death, and had herself sealed alive inside."

Strangely enough, after Risen Mochizuki arrived in Suzukawa, the disappearances stopped entirely. The governor flattered him, saying that Master Mochizuki's fame had spread so far that the evildoers naturally no longer dared to show themselves. Risen Mochizuki did not think so. If the criminals struck again, it would be easier to seize them and close the case. This calm on the surface only drove the matter deeper into deadlock. He pressed a hand lightly to his temple. The headache was getting worse. He had not slept well for nights. Ever since the Princess Consort Festival, he had kept seeing a woman's figure in his dreams. Her face was never clear, but her sorrowful voice had carved itself into his heart. Again and again it called to him: I am waiting for you to come home. He suddenly sat upright in bed, chest heaving. All was silent. Outside the window came only the thin cry of insects. So he had dreamed the same dream again. Only this time the outline of a tomb had appeared in it with perfect clarity. Sleep was out of the question. He rose and left the governor's residence. The moonlight was good. A night spent in the pavilion beyond the town, admiring the moon, seemed perhaps not a bad thing at all. He had not expected to meet Yurin there. She was seated alone in the pavilion, finishing a cup of honey wine. The moment she set it down, she saw him and started in surprise, then hurried to pour him a cup and hand it over. "It seems I am not the only one who cannot sleep," he joked. She fell silent for a moment, then asked softly, "Why can you not sleep, Master Mochizuki?" He shook his head. "Lately I keep having strange dreams.... Perhaps that story of the Princess Consort has lingered too deeply in my mind." Yurin hesitated, then asked, "Did you dream of the Princess Consort?" "I do not know if it was her," he answered. "Only a sorrowful woman, and a tomb." She was quiet for a time, then forced a smile. "Master Mochizuki, I know a little of easing the mind. Let me press your temples for you." When her fingers began to work lightly over his head, he truly did feel some part of the weight lift from him, and little by little sleep came over him. Her voice sounded softly at his ear. "Sleep. At least tonight, I will not let you dream of her." Just before he sank into sleep, he thought he heard the clear chiming of little bells, bright and delicate, sweeping every care from his heart. A few days later, Yurin gave him a bottle of pills and said they had come from her homeland in the west. If he swallowed only one before bed, he would sleep straight through until daylight without a single troubling dream. Then one evening, on his way to the pavilion again, he overheard someone say that crying had recently been heard from the Princess Consort's tomb. At once he could not help wanting to see for himself. Vaguely he had always felt that the tomb had something to do with the disappearances. It was an investigator's instinct. The tomb lay in the same direction as the pavilion, only deeper in the hills. The terrain there was tangled and difficult, thick with thorns and brush. Yet he moved along as if he already knew the path, and before long he stood before the tomb.

It was because he had seen the road in his dreams. On the surface the tomb occupied no more than a modest plot. It was solemn, austere, even plain. There were no words on the stele. And yet instinct told him at once that beneath this tomb there was far more hidden. It was precisely because the place was so simple that he found it suspicious. After all, this was the tomb the prince had built so that, after a hundred years, he and the woman he loved might lie together. How could he have treated her with such meanness? It did not take him long to find the mechanism. With a light tap of his sword hilt, part of the earth beside the tomb shifted away and revealed a stone stair descending underground. He was just about to go down when someone behind him called out, "Master Mochizuki, you cannot go in!" There was no mistaking the voice. It was Yurin. He answered only, "I must." The next instant the wide red sleeves of her robe came dancing toward him. He was startled to learn she knew martial arts and drew his sword at once to meet her, not daring to show the slightest carelessness. As the fight wore on he knew he was no match for her. She was far too swift. Again and again the wind from her palms swept across the vital points of his body. It was plain that if she truly wished him dead, he would already have been on the road to the underworld. Then, with a lift and turn of her body, she caught both his wrists and stared into his eyes. "Believe me," she said, each word distinct. "I am doing this for your own good. There is danger inside." The tears glimmering in her eyes shook his heart with ridiculous ease. An unending ache rose in his chest. All at once he dropped every guard he had and drew her into his arms. Breathing in that clean, sweet scent of her, he said softly the only three words he could think of. "I believe you."

In the end Risen Mochizuki did as Yurin asked and left the Princess Consort's tomb. He had asked her about her identity, but she had evaded the question every time and only repeated, again and again, that he must trust her. It was no longer possible for him to press further. Then the culprit finally struck again. This time, the man chosen was the governor's own son. That night the moon shone clean and white over the earth, only to be swallowed an instant later by thick black clouds. Heaven and earth turned pitch-dark. The dampness in the air deepened. Then it began to rain. High in the far-off night came the crisp chime of a bell, drawing nearer and nearer before drifting off again over the governor's residence. Risen Mochizuki sprang up in alarm and vaulted onto the roof, following the direction in which the bell sound floated. Then he saw a scene almost too strange to believe. The governor's son, dressed in sleeping clothes, was walking slowly down the street like a man sleepwalking, headed toward the outskirts of Suzukawa. Stop him, thought Risen Mochizuki. He immediately swept forward with light-foot skill. It was as though the governor's son sensed him approaching. He spun suddenly and struck, every blow fierce and vicious, all aimed at Risen Mochizuki's vital points. The movements were so quick that Risen could barely defend himself.

If I had taken Yurin's pill that night, I would never have been able to save the governor's son.

It was all because of you.

And he knew very well that the governor's son had no martial training at all. The way he moved made it obvious that someone was controlling him. More than that, every move felt strangely familiar. A thought flashed through Risen Mochizuki's mind. It was as though he suddenly understood something. His own footwork faltered for a moment, and the governor's son's hand flew straight toward his throat. Yet just as the blow was about to land, it stopped. The governor's son collapsed to the ground as though all strength had been sucked out of him. Rain splashed mud over his sleeping robe. Risen Mochizuki let out a breath and carried the unconscious young man back to the governor's residence. The next day the governor's son woke with no memory of the night's events. He could say only that, in his sleep, he too had heard the clear ringing of a bell. At last the case had a new clue. The bell was perhaps the key to everything. But what relation did it have to the Princess Consort's tomb?

Because the Princess Consort was an important figure in Suzukawa's history, the records concerning her were unusually detailed.

Legend said that the Soul-Summoning Bell could use rain as its medium, channel its power into the human body, and in that way control a person's mind and actions.

Risen Mochizuki made another circuit of Suzukawa, and by the time he lifted his head again it was already sunset. This was Yurin's beloved sunset. He closed his eyes and saw before him the moment he had drawn Yurin into his arms.

Yurin shook her head lightly. "If I say no, you will not believe me, will you?"

The deep feeling in her eyes left him unable to tell truth from falsehood, right from wrong. "Master Mochizuki," she said, "even if you do not believe Yurin, Yurin must still tell you this: everything I have done..." He forced down the softness he felt toward her and hardened himself. "Hand over the bell ornaments. If you truly are connected to these disappearances, I must investigate you according to law." Yurin laughed. It began as a light laugh, then swelled until she seemed to be laughing at her own foolishness, her own helplessness. She swore to herself in that moment that she would never forgive the man who had trampled on her true heart. He did not know how much she had done for him, nor how much danger she had courted on his behalf. He knew only that he must uncover the truth of the case, even if it meant tearing her love for him to pieces. Yes, she had fallen in love with him. She unclasped the bells from her body and threw them toward him. "You like them? Then take them and study them to your heart's content." Then she turned and flew away, soaring straight into the night sky until she became no more than a red point. Staring after her, his face slowly drained of color. He finally understood that such effortless lightness of body was not something a human being could possess. Could it be that Yurin was not human at all? He examined the bells over and over again until at last he was certain that they were no more than ordinary ornaments, with nothing whatsoever to do with the Soul-Summoning Bell. Then had he wronged Yurin? If so, she must hate him bitterly by now.

Risen Mochizuki refused the men the governor offered him and went alone to the Princess Consort's tomb. Just as he had expected, Yurin appeared to stop him. Even though she hated him now, she still could not bear to see him enter the tomb and die. His gaze was steady. "Yurin, please let me go in." She gave a soft, sorrowful sigh. "Is the truth really that important to you? Important enough that you would tread a road with no return?" "Of course," he answered. "It is the duty of one in my office." She stepped lightly toward him and laid a hand over his heart. "I truly want to know whether your heart belongs to me. When this case is over, I am willing to place my heart in your hands as well." She lifted her head. From the slight curve of her lips, he read the answer he had wanted.

The Soul-Summoning Bell exists in order to absorb the yang essence of men and aid my cultivation. Yes, Yurin said, I am not human. Were you not searching for the Soul-Summoning Bell? The truth is that I am the Soul-Summoning Bell, and the Soul-Summoning Bell is me. Do you understand? I am a bell spirit, a ghost-immortal who cultivated for a thousand years within those bells before gaining a body of my own. As for those missing men, you will never find them now. I killed them all. Shock surged through Risen Mochizuki. He almost drew his sword, but Yurin pressed his hand back down. "Do not be hasty. Hear me through." She said she was willing to go back with him and answer to the court. She was willing to accept any punishment, even if they wanted her soul scattered forever. She had only one request: that he stay away from the Princess Consort's tomb for the rest of his life and never approach it again. At that moment his heart was chaos. If what she said was true, then was he truly to bring death upon the woman he loved with his own hands?

He took two steps back and pressed a hand over his throbbing heart. Still he did not believe she could be the murderer. Her smile was too beautiful. How could such a woman have been stained with blood and evil? Yurin had done everything in her power to keep him from entering the tomb, and once he had yielded to her. But now he had to defy her will. Only by understanding why she would not let him enter could he truly give up. The thought had barely formed when he rushed for the tomb entrance. Yurin started and hurried to stop him. He knew she could not bring herself to be ruthless toward him, and so he fought without defense, exposing his own openings again and again while striking at hers. At last he hit the point beneath her arm, three inches below the shoulder. That was one of the great points of the body's main meridians. Though she was a ghost-immortal, endowed with powers beyond those of ordinary people, once she had cultivated a physical form she had to submit to the rules and limits of a human body. Such was the law between the realms, and it did not change. She could no longer move and could only watch him step into the tomb little by little. Tears slid down her cheeks and vanished into the mud among the weeds. In pain she closed her eyes, unable to watch the man she loved walk toward certain death. The real tomb. Darkness lay everywhere. Water dripped somewhere in the distance. Once his eyes adjusted, Risen Mochizuki moved carefully forward. Just as he had suspected, there was another world beneath the tomb. After passing through a narrow passage, the space before him suddenly opened out. The tomb was not only broad within; stairways led even deeper underground, a full three levels. Each level held eighteen rooms, luxurious as a great mansion. In the main hall of the lowest level, torches were burning. By their light he saw two place settings laid on a stone table, and cups still full of water. He smelled at once the sweet scent of the honey drink Yurin had once given him. So this tomb was Yurin's home? Then what exactly was her relation to the Princess Consort? His thoughts were broken by a cold laugh. "Yurin tried every way she could to save your life. I never expected you would come and deliver yourself to me." "Who is there?" Risen Mochizuki's gaze swept the room, and from one chamber emerged a woman in elaborate dress. Her face was lined with wrinkles. She was ancient, hideous, almost like a demon that fed on men. Her laughter was cold enough to freeze the blood. She touched her own face and said through clenched teeth, "You should die. If not for your appearance, how could I have become what I am now? Yurin used to be very obedient. She lured men to me and made them my medicine." At once he understood. "So it was you! You were the one who wanted to trade Yurin's place, and she only helped you to harm others!"

Yurin, that poor fool, absorbed the yang essence of those men to help me go on cultivating. You know I once suspected your identity, she said. Yes, I am not human. Were you not searching for the Soul-Summoning Bell? In truth the Soul-Summoning Bell is Yurin herself. I brought her into this tomb long ago, and the yin energy here allowed her at last to gain a physical body. To repay me, she granted me one wish. And what was my wish? Something simple. Whatever happened, I would wait for my husband to come home. In a blaze of understanding, Risen Mochizuki finally grasped the truth. The old woman before him was the Princess Consort herself. She had remained here all this time, guarding the tomb, thinking only of waiting for her husband to return. Yurin, in order to keep her alive, had fed her with the essence of young men. Risen's hand shook so hard around his sword that he could scarcely hold it steady. "For the sake of your own desire, you killed so many young men. Do you know they were all on the point of marriage? Do you know how broken their betrothed must be?" The Princess Consort said disdainfully, "Marriage? On the contrary, I saved those women. It was not my idea. That foolish Yurin would choose only men who were already false to their unmarried wives. Tell me, how disgusting were the looks on their faces when they saw her? All dripping lust." "Be silent! No sophistry!" he shouted, but the words cut his own heart as well. The Princess Consort sneered. "Sophistry? I tell you the truth only because you are about to die, and because I would honor what Yurin has done for me these past two years. I know she has fallen in love with you. Otherwise she would never have tried so often to stop you from entering the tomb and going to your death. When I used dreams to lure you here, she even dared quarrel with me and beg me to spare you. But your birth date and hour suit me best of all. If I can absorb your essence, I may prolong my life by another three years. The only one who could be exchanged for you was the governor's son. That is why she agreed to trade him for you, only for the plan to be ruined by your own appearance." Risen Mochizuki was just about to speak when weakness seized his body. His hand shook, and his sword clattered to the ground. He had been poisoned. The tomb never saw sunlight. The air was thin, foul, and dense with venomous vapors. He had been too preoccupied with Yurin to notice. The Princess Consort drew a knife from her waist and came toward him slowly. "Yurin cannot save you now."

As death crept closer, his mind instead grew brighter and clearer. He had not only seen the truth of the whole affair; he had finally seen the truth of his own heart toward Yurin. No. He could not die. He had to see her one more time, to tell her with his own mouth that he loved her, that he was willing to forgive her, that he was willing to cast aside his office and take her away to the far ends of the earth. He begged heaven for one chance, one chance to gather all his strength and deliver a fatal blow to the true author of this disaster. The Princess Consort's hand with the knife drew nearer and nearer. She raised it high, then brought it down toward his chest. He shut his eyes and prepared to endure it, ready to strike back at the instant when the blade came closest to his heart. Yet the knife stopped a mere inch away. "Yurin!" It was Yurin, throwing both arms around the Princess Consort's waist from behind. Blood stained the corner of her lips as she whispered, "Please. Don't hurt him. You promised me." The Princess Consort struggled in her embrace. Risen Mochizuki seized the chance, poured every bit of strength he had left into his limbs, snatched up his sword, and drove it toward the Princess Consort's abdomen.

The feel of steel sinking into flesh was not unfamiliar to him. Yet never in his life had he known a terror like this. The Princess Consort let out a scream that seemed to tear heart and lungs apart, and he himself cried out too, releasing the sword at once, because that blade had gone through Yurin's back. In the last instant she had thrown herself in front of the Princess Consort and taken for her the mortal blow meant for another. When he caught her soft collapsing body, his tears were already blurring his sight. She forced a faint smile and said, "Master Mochizuki, the Princess Consort was always good to me. She was the first to let me know the taste of friendship. In truth she is a pitiable woman. She wanted only to wait until her husband returned, to ask him in person why he had abandoned her alone." The words struck Risen Mochizuki like a hammer, and struck the Princess Consort no less hard. The older woman collapsed across Yurin's chest and wept with a grief that sounded almost childish. Who but Yurin had ever known how she had endured these tens of years of loneliness? "When I forced my way through the sealed point, I was already not going to live," Yurin murmured. "But even so, I still could not bear to let you kill each other. You are both the people I love most in this world." Risen's heart felt as though it were being torn apart. He could only hold her hand and beg her not to leave. Yet in the next moment, to his astonishment, Yurin suddenly gathered the last of her strength and struck the Princess Consort full in the chest. The Princess Consort did not resist. She said only, "Without you, I cannot go on living. Then let me go with you." Yurin closed her eyes peacefully and began little by little to dissolve into light, threads upon threads of it, until the dark tomb was bright as day. Her voice lingered behind in the empty space. "Master Mochizuki, I am taking the Princess Consort away. I must keep my promise. This time, even if we must chase him into hell, we will find the prince and ask him why he had the heart to leave the Princess Consort behind, to rob her even of the right to live and die beside him. Only, Master Mochizuki, I fear in this life I shall never see you again. If you truly cherish me, then please, for my sake, take care of yourself. Yurin. Yurin."

Two new lines of characters appeared upon the stone of the tomb: Tomb of the Princess Consort. Tomb of Yurin. The calligraphy was strong and forceful, yet stained with blood, as if written out of a final despair. Not far from the tomb stood a simple hut. Entering it, one would find a man standing with a sword in his hand, reading an official letter. The court had ordered that, now the case was solved, he was to return to the capital at once and must not delay. The sky had turned darker and darker. He lay down upon the wooden couch and did not wish to think about the harsh tone of censure in the letter. He did not want to leave this place. Rain came down in sheets. Through it he thought he heard a faint knocking, and with it the crisp, delicate sound of a bell. He rose and opened the door. At once a kitten sprang into his arms. About its neck hung a little golden bell that chimed as it moved.