“Nitta stood and saw his future in his hands. To the north was impenetrable. To the south was the sea with the barricades and warships. And waiting by the shore, waiting silently, waiting cunningly, was his army-waiting for Nitta’s leadership, waiting for him to give the signal to attack. Waiting, ever waiting, for its chance at victory.
“Nitta took his gold sword from its scabbard and held it in his hands. He fixed his gaze beyond the edges of the waiting warcraft and closed his eyes in sincere supplication to the Sea God. Then, with the strength of a hero, he flung his gold sword into the sea, crying out that his prayers be answered.
“The sword flew past the waiting warcraft and was swallowed greedily by the dark waves of the bay, as if the Sea God were accepting this sincere offering from the supplicant. And lo! The waters receded, forcing the warships farther and farther from the point, until finally they were out of arrow range. Nitta’s army saw before it a broad and sandy highway, as wide as seven ri, aimed straight into the heart of the city of Kamakura. Crying his thanks to the Sea God, Nitta descended from the cliff, mounted his horse, and led his army across the sandy highway into the city, earning victory!”
As the last echoes of the word “victory” were swept up by the sea wind, Kaze reached back and hurled the cherry blossom sword far into the air. In the pale moonlight he saw it twirl lazily against the background of stars as it sank its way toward the water below. It hit with a small splash that formed a silver circle for a brief moment, and then Ishibashi’s sword was gone.
“Thank you for letting me use your sword, Ishibashi-san,” Kaze said to the spirit of the dead man. “And thank you for letting the sword defend me from the three assassins who attacked me.”
Kaze prayed that the spirit of Ishibashi would be appeased and at rest, ready to be reincarnated into its next life. He also prayed to the Sea God, just as Nitta had done. He looked to the sea to see if there was some sign that his prayer, like Nitta’s, would be answered. His prayer was that he would find the young girl he was seeking. Though he stood at the cliff side for several minutes, there seemed no change in the ocean, land, or stars that would act as a sign that the Gods had heard his prayer and would grant it. Only the lapping of the eternal waves hitting the cliff below punctured the silence.
Sighing, he started walking back. Then, on a whim, Kaze walked to Yukiaigawa bridge. Kaze followed Zen, the religion of the warrior, so he was not a Nichiren Buddhist, but he thought that if a sacrifice with a sword was to generate any divine intervention, then the most likely place for this to manifest itself would be at Yukiaigawa, the River of Meeting.
More than three hundred years before, Nichiren had almost been executed here. The priest was old then and had converted many disciples to his style of Buddhism. But he had angered the authorities and was condemned to death.
As Nichiren knelt with his neck extended to have his head lopped off, the executioner raised his sword high before bringing it down with the same sudden swiftness and fatal result as the hawk descending on the mouse. When the blade was at its acme, a divine show of force occurred: A lightning bolt came down from the sky, striking the sword blade and breaking it into three pieces, leaving the executioner stunned and senseless on the ground.
The local authorities were frightened and amazed by this display of heaven’s divine favor to Nichiren. The breaking of the sword was a clear sign that its use to execute the saint was unjust. The authorities sent a messenger to the Regent to recount what had happened and ask for instructions. At Yukiaigawa, the messenger from the local authorities met another messenger coming from the other direction. This messenger had been sent by the Regent, who the night before had been visited by a heavenly apparition in his dream, warning him not to slay the holy Nichiren. The two messengers met at the river and, after exchanging messages, each was in awe of what had happened.
Surely, Kaze thought, there could be no better place than the River of Meeting to meet someone who could give him information about the girl, or perhaps even to meet the girl herself.
But as Kaze reached the bank of the stream, watching the black river water in its constant flow to the sea, he reflected that perhaps it was his karma not to have this task made easier by an intervention of heaven.
He walked along the riverbank to the bridge where the two messengers met. As he made his way, his lantern illuminated the pathway before him just a few steps ahead. His life was like the glow from the lantern. He could see only one or two steps ahead of him, yet his faith in the future kept him moving forward, sure that he would complete his task if allowed to live. He could hear the sound of the water in the river, brittle and cold in the night air. Above him the night sky formed a black canopy pierced by tiny points of shimmering light, the round moon hanging over his shoulder.
As Kaze approached the bridge, the sound of water faded away and around him darkness started gathering, as if a black fog were rolling over him and darkening the heavens. The stars above grew dim and the moon became obscured, as if behind a cloud. His steps slowed and eventually halted. From the bridge, he heard a sound that he had both feared and anticipated. It was the crying of a woman.
This had happened to Kaze once before when he was on a mountain path walking through the mist. He took a deep breath, but the air was stale and lifeless. He walked forward slowly.
There, sitting in the middle of the bridge, he could see the woman. She was dressed in a kimono of white, the color of death and mourning. Her long black hair hung loosely against the kimono, looking like the stroke of a calligraphy brush against snowlike paper. Kaze stared at the figure but could not bring the edges of the apparition into sharp focus. Looking within his soul, Kaze recited a piece of the Heart Sutra. I have no doubt and therefore no fear. No doubt and therefore no fear. No doubt and no fear.
Repeating the phrase over and over to himself like a mantra, he approached the figure and stopped a short distance away.
He got to his knees and bowed deeply. When he was done, he looked up at the figure. The figure’s head was bent down in sadness, her hands across her face. Through her fingers he could see the teardrops falling like steady drops of rain. They hit her white kimono, staining the cloth with spreading points of wetness.
“I am here, my Lady,” he said almost inaudibly. He knew the ghostly figure before him would hear him, no matter how softly he spoke. She straightened at the sound of his voice and took her hands away from her face. Even though Kaze had steeled himself for what he was about to see, he still felt a cold shiver gripping his body, shaking him with an icy firmness that penetrated to his very soul.
The figure had no face. It had no eyes, no mouth, and no nose, yet it could still cry piteously.
Kaze made another bow. “I suppose you want news on how my search for your daughter goes,” he said. The sound of sobbing lessened.
Kaze reached into his sleeve and brought out the scrap of cloth with the three plum blossoms, the crest of the Lady.
“This is what has led me to Kamakura, Lady. First down the Tokaido Road and now to this place. I must find a secret. People who might have information about your daughter will not give it to me until I perform a service in return, which is to find out what happened to their family member. When I find out what happened to their relative, they will tell me more about your daughter’s location. Because you are visiting me, I know that your daughter is still alive. If she were with you in another world, between life and rebirth, then I assume you would not be coming to me.”