Blessedly, the snoring in the distance continued unabated. Faintly, from outside, came the muffled twanging of the bowstrings of the guards. The sound, meant to scare away criminals and evil spirits, was followed by the calling out of the hour: the hour of the rat. A moment later the temple bell rang, too.
It was time. She got up and took a final sip of water. Then she tied on the tall hat, put the sword through her sash, and slipped the drum cord over her shoulder. She slid open the door to the interior of the hall by tiny increments. The track was well-oiled, but she could not risk the smallest noise. The snoring was louder now. Good. It would cover the whispering of her silk trousers as she glided across to the southern veranda.
She had almost reached the outer doors when the snoring stopped abruptly. Taking the next few steps quickly, she froze with her hand on the shutter. All was silent. Was the woman awake and listening? Toshiko’s heart beat so loudly that she was afraid she would not hear her coming. She was about to sink down on trembling knees when the snoring started up again, softly at first, then gaining full power. With a sigh of relief, Toshiko lifted the shutter. It seemed heavy, but she had lost much of her strength during the past days. Gritting her teeth, she managed to raise it enough to slip out and lower it again. The effort left her gasping for breath.
The night was very dark, and a light rain was falling. With a shiver, she pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck and set off in the direction of the north gate. Her slippers were soon soaked and the hems of her full trousers heavy with moisture.
The unfamiliar grounds of the palace lay empty and silent. She passed several dark buildings she knew nothing about. In the stables were lights, and she could hear and smell the horses inside. Panic returned. Where there were horses, there were grooms. She hurried past. The raised and curving roofline of the north gate hove into sight, and with it more lights and the guards’ barracks. Sounds of raucous singing came from the barracks. The thought of being caught by men like those inside almost frightened her into turning around.
The massive outer gate was closed and barred for the night. She must leave that way or not at all. The most dangerous moment had come. She rested a little to gather her courage and strength, then walked quickly toward the gate house.
Iron cressets hung suspended from the eaves of the massive gate. They held burning pine branches to light the area and sputtered and smoked in the drizzle.
The door to the guard house stood open and light fell on the wet gravel outside. Toshiko crept up. Two soldiers in the uniforms of the outer palace guards sat on the floor, playing go and drinking warmed wine. The wine pitcher rested on a small brazier. When one of the men turned to refill his cup he saw her outside the door. His eyes widened. He scrambled up. “What have we here?” he said, smiling broadly. His companion joined him in the doorway.
Toshiko looked uncertainly at their wine-flushed, grinning faces. Apprehension knotted her stomach. “Please let me out, honorable officers,” she asked, bowing.
“Not so fast, my pretty,” said the first guard. “Come in out of the rain. We can use a little company.”
Toshiko took a breath and bowed again, with a little flourish, just as a shirabyoshi did after her performance. “Begging your pardon, but not tonight, my brave officers,” she said, trying to sound regretful. “I’m exhausted. They’ve have kept me dancing for hours. Please let me out.”
“I bet that’s not all they kept you for,” said the second guard. His companion guffawed.
Toshiko offered, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe then?” She smiled and performed another small dance movement.
The second guard shook his head and returned to the game. The first man stepped outside. “A promise? I’ll be waiting. Just ask for Corporal Mori at the barracks. I bet I can make you dance all night, and not on your feet either.” He laughed.
She hid her disgust. He sauntered to the gate and lifted the heavy bar. Pulling one wing of the gate open just far enough for her to slip through, he waited until she stepped forward, then he snatched her, pressing her against the closed section with his body. He pushed his face into hers. She gagged on the sour fumes of wine. Inserting a hand into her jacket, he squeezed one of her breasts. “Sure you won’t stay a little, sweetheart?” he murmured against her lips.
She gasped and slapped his face.
For a moment he looked angry, but then he stepped aside with a chuckle. “Oh, all right, all right,” he said. “I can see you’re bushed. Tomorrow then. Don’t forget.”
She did not give him time to change his mind but slipped through the opening and ran.
The road took her straight to the bridge into the city. When she was out of sight of the palace, she slowed a little to catch her breath. The rain still drizzled, but over the mountains to the east the sky was clearing. Moon and stars appeared briefly between ragged clouds and were hidden again. It was no longer so dark now that she was in the open. Ahead lay the city, not quite asleep because lights glimmered here and there. But the road was empty, and even on the bridge were only a few late stragglers. They walked hunched into their clothes against the misting rain and paid no attention to her. The water lapped against the bridge supports and muffled the sound of steps on the wooden planks.
An odd feeling of lightheadedness seized her. She was free — she was truly free. Nobody would find her now. Nobody could ever again force her will and use her body without her permission.
In the city, the storefronts were shuttered and few lights showed in houses. She needed directions to Sumei-mon but there was no one to ask. And there was soon another problem: her costume was a familiar and inviting sight to the night crawlers of the city.
A drunk appeared suddenly out of the darkness and propositioned her, reaching with greedy hands for her sleeves and making obscene demands. She ran, diving into an alley, where she stumbled about and fell over unseen obstacles. A dog charged at her, barking and growling through some broken fencing. She tripped over her sword. When the drum caught on a fencepost, jerking her off her feet into the mud, she tore it off, throwing it, the sword, and the hat into someone’s garden before running on.
Her rain-soaked clothing was heavy, and she was out of strength quickly. When the moon came out again, she was alone in a dank corner filled with refuse and broken furniture. She leaned against a wall to rest, then let herself slide down, her legs too weak to hold her.
But the cold and wet soaked through her clothes, and her clammy jacket clung to her body, chilling her to the bone. Teeth chattering, she got up. She must find the doctor or perish in this darkness.
Walking more slowly now and stumbling often, she took her direction by a glimpse of a distant pagoda. Where there was a pagoda, there was a temple, and in a temple, there must be good people who followed the Buddha’s way, people who would help her.
Even as she thought this, she stumbled over a sleeping monk.
He was one of those who had taken vows of poverty and wandered the country begging for their food. This one had found a doorway to sleep in, his wide straw hat covering his head against the drizzle, and his bare legs sticking out into the alleyway. Because his legs were so dirty that it was hard to tell them from the mud, Toshiko had stepped on them.
Her heart stopped when the mud-colored creature scrambled up with a curse. It was as if the earth had opened up to spit out an angry goblin. Then she saw the shaven head and the monk’s robe, and relief flooded through her. “”Oh, thank heaven,” she cried, “forgive me, reverend sir. I did not see you there.”
He stopped ranting and peered at her from bleary eyes. “Watch where you’re going next time,” he grumbled, rubbing his leg.