The rain is falling in sheets on a massive ruined gate, to wherever is lost now to the fruits of war, destruction, and chaos. It stands mightily, perhaps forty feet tall and twice that in length. You sit in its expansive dry space, staring off into the distance, waiting.
 

The Woodcutter's Perspective

 

"I don't...I just don't understand it," your companion-in-waiting, the woodcutter says. "I just don't understand." He puts his face down between his folded arms in weariness.

Then, someone appears from behind one of the pillars to your right. The man is about the same height as the short and compact woodcutter, but wears no small stocking cap. The stranger joins you, sitting down next to the woodcutter.

The Stranger's Perspective
 

The Woodcutter's Perspective

 

"What's wrong?" the stranger asks the woodcutter. "What don't you understand?"

The woodcutter looks up at him. He is an older man with a beard, early forties perhaps. "I've never heard of anything so strange," he says, distantly, looking to the rain.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" the stranger asks him. The stranger looks at you. "Well, it's good we have a priest, he even looks smart," he says.

Your attention comes to him slowly. "Even abbot Konin of Kiyoman Temple... even he wouldn't understand this," your young voice says lowly.

"Then, you know something about this story?" the stranger asks you.

"I've heard it with my ears, seen it with my eyes, today," you say.

"Where?" the stranger asks

"In the prison courtyard," you say.

"The prison?"

"A man's been murdered," you say.

"So what? Only one," the stranger says, recoiling slightly with an amused expression on his face. "Why, on the top of this gate, there's always 5 or 6 bodies. No one worries about them," he says to you. He takes off his rain-soaked tunic.

"You're right," you say, head slightly down and staring off into space. "War, earthquake, wind, fire, famine, plague... Yes, each year is full of disasters." You wipe your face, your fingers going over your near shaved head.

The stranger wrings the water from his well-worn tunic as you watch him.

"And now, every night, the bandits descend upon us," you continue. "I, for one, have seen hundreds of men dying like animals, but even I've never heard of anything as terrible as this."

The woodcutter looks up at you.

You return his look. "Horrible, it's horrible. There's never been anything as terrible as this," you say. "Never. It's worse than fires, wars, epidemics, or bandits."

The stranger scowls. "Look here priest, let's not have any sermons," he says.

"I only wanted to hear this story to keep out of the rain. I'd just as soon listen to the rain than to your sermon." He leaves your presence for a moment, pulling loose wooden fixtures from the massive gate.

The woodcutter goes running over to the stranger as he squats, breaking to wood in to smaller pieces to build a fire. "Well, maybe you can tell me what it means," he says, looking down on the stranger. I don't understand it, all three of them."

"What three?" the stranger asks.

"Well, it's those that I wanted to tell you about," the woodcutter says, squatting down.

"Don't get so excited," the stranger says, patting him. "This rain won't stop for awhile."

"Three days ago, I'd gone to the mountains for wood," the woodcutter begins his twice-told tale.

 
The Woodcutter's Perspective

The Stranger's Perspective

 

I tramp through the forest, my small ax slung over my shoulder. The sunlight seeps in through the forest canopy. I am walking and walking and I find this wide-brimmed hat and veil resting on a branch. I look around for the owner, but I don't see anyone. I just leave it and keep on walking. I keep down the path. Then I come across a man's hat lying in the trail. So, I pick that up and keep walking. Then I find ropes, broken rope. I look off to my left and in a glade I see something glittering, something ornate. I press on, but trip. Then I see him. The body just sits there, twisted and contorted. I scream and run the other way, dropping everything.

I run off as fast as I can to tell the police.

"That was three days ago. Then I testified to the police."

I kneel in the enclosed police courtyard. "Yes, yes sir," I say. "It was I who first found the body. What? A sword or anything? No, nothing at all. Only a woman's hat, caught on a branch. And a man's hat that had been trampled on. And a piece of rope. And, farther along, an amulet case with red lining. Yes, sir, that was all I saw, I swear to it."

The priest testified next, taking his turn to kneel before the magistrate, while I sit and watch in the background. "Yes, I saw the murdered man while he was still alive," the priest says. "It was about three days ago, in the afternoon on the Sekiyama-Yamashina road."

The priest says he was walking along the forested-road when he encounters two people, a woman mounted on a horse and a man walking beside, guiding it. "She had a veil on her hat. I couldn't see her face. The man was armed. He had sword, bow and arrows. I never thought I'd see him again, then to see him dead... But it's true, life is delicate, fleeting as the morning dew. But what a shame, that he should have died like that." The priest cups his hands and bows his head.

Then a policeman comes before the magistrate in a light tunic and black hat, a bound prisoner beside him. The policeman bows deeply.

 
Tajomaru's Perspective

 
"Yes, I caught Tajomaru," the policeman says. "The one that everyone talks about," he says, smiling and proud. "Yes, this is the same bandit, Tajomaru, your honor! When I finally caught him, he was dressed like he is now." The bandit had a length of cloth tied around his neck and down to his waist. "And he carried that Korean sword!" The policeman bows again. He is very pleased. "It was dusk, two days ago, by the riverbank at Katsura." He says he walked along and came across Tajomaru, collapsed on the riverbank and a horse drinking nearby. "There were 17 arrows with feathers, a bow, and a horse. And they all had belonged to the murdered man. Just imagine Tajomaru being thrown by the horse he stole! It was retribution."

 
Tajomaru's Perspective

 

Then Tajomaru seems to awake from his daze and turns to face the policeman with an insane laugh. "Retribution?" he says. "Don't be stupid! On that day while I was riding that horse, I suddenly got thirsty. So near Osakapan I had a drink. There must have been something in that stream because after a few hours I began to feel quite ill," he snarls. "Soon, I could bear it no longer. I got off the horse to lay down." Again, he bursts into the insane laugh at the policeman. "And you thought I'd fallen, that's a pretty stupid idea! It's the truth. I know you'll kill me sooner or later! I'm not hiding anything. It was me, Tajomaru, who killed that man. It was on a hot afternoon that I saw them. All of a sudden there was this cool breeze. If it hadn't been for that breeze, I might not have killed."
 

Tajomaru's Perspective

 
He says he is resting against a tree when he first sees the man and the mounted woman. He thinks nothing of it as they pass by him...until the woman's veil lifted on a breeze. "Just a glimpse, then she was gone. I thought I'd seen an angel. I decided I'd take her, even if I had to kill the man! But, if I could do it without killing, all the better. So, I decided not to kill, but to get the woman alone. The road to Yamashina was hardly the place, though." The bandit hurries after the two, coming up behind them.

 
Man's Perspective

 

"What do you want?" the man says.

The bandit calmly goes around the horse to look at the woman.

"What do you want?" the man repeats, louder this time.

The bandit squats down in the road in front of them.

"What is it?!"

The bandit makes as if he is going back the other way, then draws his sword. He swipes at the man and starts laughing wildly at him.

The man partially draws his sword from its sheath and stands ready.

"Isn't this nice?" the bandit says. He holds the sword into the sunlight. "Look! Isn't this nice?" He approaches the man. "Here, look at it," he says, holding the hilt of the sword out towards the man.

The man doesn't move.

"Over there, I found this tomb with lots of things in it." He points back down the road. "I broke it open. Inside I found swords, daggers, mirrors... I buried them all in the woods. Only I know where they are. If you're interested, I might sell some cheap." He holds out the sword again.

The man returns his sword fully to its sheath and takes the blade. He turns it over a few times in the sunlight, examining it.

Time passes. The woman sits beside a trickling stream with the horse, while Tajomaru leads the man off. As they go along through the foliage, Tajomaru draws his sword and laughs as the man steps back and prepares to draw his own sword. The bandit then starts hacking a way through the bush. The man cautiously follows.

Finally, "It's over there," Tajomaru says.

"Walk ahead of me," the man says. They continue for a time.

"Well, it's over there," Tajomaru says again, pointing with his sword, then sheathing it.

The man walks ahead of Tajomaru to the place he had pointed to.

Tajomaru comes up behind him and knocks him to the ground. They struggle. Time passes. Tajomaru comes running and laughing through the forest, his victory complete. He approaches the woman. "Your husband, he's been bitten by a snake!"
 

 
Tajomaru continues to tell his story before the magistrate. "She turned pale and stared as if her eyes were frozen. She looked like a child turned suddenly serious. Her look made me jealous of that man. I started to hate him. I wanted to show her how he looked, tied up like that. I'd not thought of such a thing before, but now I did."

He says he takes her through the forest to where her husband is. Her hat is lost. They come to him. Without warning, the woman draws a knife from the sash about her waist and comes at Tajomaru. He jumps and dodges and plays with her.

"She was fierce, determined."

Finally, she collapses, crying. As he grabs her, she tries one last time to kill him, but he avoids the knife. After a brief struggle, he kisses her. She puts her arms around him and returns his affection.

Tajomaru lets loose with his laugh before the magistrate. "And so I had her, and without killing her husband. Besides, I hadn't planned to kill him. But, then..."

Having got what he wanted, Tajomaru walks away, but the woman chases after him.

She falls at his feet. "Wait! Stop, one of you must die! Either you or my husband!" The bandit and the husband glare at each other. "Either you or he must die! To be doubly disgraced, disgraced before two men is more than I can bear. I will belong to whoever kills the other."

Tajomaru goes back and cuts the man's bonds and gives him back his sword.

The man draws it in one swift motion and begins a furious attack. The two duel back and forth, jabbing, parrying. Then the man falls into the copse of trees and laughing, Tajomaru finishes him.

"I wanted to kill him honestly," Tajomaru tells the magistrate, "since I had to kill him. He fought really well, we crossed swords 23 times. No one ever crossed swords with me more than 20 times. But then I killed him. What? The woman? Oh, her! She wasn't around. Probably got frightened and ran away. She must have been really upset. Returning down the path, I found the horse grazing there. About that woman, it was her temper that interested me. But she turned out just like any other. I didn't even look for her. What? His sword? I sold it and drank up the money. Her dagger? I remember it looked valuable, some kind of inlay in it. Know what I did? I forgot about it. How foolish. The biggest mistake I ever made!" He goes into wild laughing.

The stranger yawns and stretches. The fire he made is waning now. "Tajomaru, he's famous for that sort of thing," he says. "He's worse than all the other bandits in Kyoto. Why last fall, a young girl and her maid went off to the temple. They were found murdered there afterwards. He must have done that too." He gets up and walks over near you to break off some more wood. "They say the woman ran away and left her horse," the stranger says to the woodcutter. "I bet he killed her."

You get up from where you are sitting. "But the woman turned up in prison, you know. It seems she was hiding in temple. The police found her."

The woodcutter's voice rang out. "It's a lie! They're all lies! Tajomaru, the woman, all lies."

"Well," the stranger says, "men are only men. That's why they lie. They can't tell the truth, even to themselves."

"That may be true," you say. "Because men are weak, they lie to deceive themselves."

The stranger's face twists into something unpleasant to look at. "Not another sermon!" He walks over to the smoldering fire and starts breaking the wood. "I don't mind a lie, if it's interesting," he says after awhile, musing. "What kind of story did she tell?" he asks you.

"Hers was completely different from the bandit's story!" you say, coming over to the fire. "Everything was different. Tajomaru told of her strength. I found her pitiful. I felt compassion for her."
 

Woman's Perspective

 
The kneeling woman weeps before the magistrate, her face to the ground. She brings her head up slowly. "And then, after having taken advantage of me, he proudly told me that he was the bandit Tajomaru. And then, he sneered at my husband. Oh, how terrible it must have been for him. The more he struggled, the tighter the ropes became. I couldn't stand it. I ran towards him... or tried to."

Tajomaru laughs at them and runs away. She goes over to her husband and embraces him. Her husband stares at her.

"Even now, I remember his eyes. What I saw in them was not sorrow, not even anger. It was a cold hatred of me."

Tajomaru looks at the bound husband and sobbing wife, and laughs his victory, then dashes off, screaming in laughter. She embraces her husband, but he just stares at me. "Don't! Don't look at me like that! Beat me! Kill me if you must, but don't look at me like that. Please, don't." She begins to cry again. She looks around and finds her dagger. She cuts her husband loose and tries to give the dagger to him. "Then kill me! Kill me quickly with one thrust!" she says.

He won't take the dagger from her. He doesn't even move.

She backs away. "Please don't! Don't look like that! Don't, don't look at me like that! Don't look at me like that! Don't! Don't! Don't look like that! Don't look like that! Don't look like that!"

She pleads with her husband. When he doesn't respond she begins to cry again. She backs away from him, pleading with him not to look at her with hatred.

"And then I fainted. When I opened my eyes and looked about, I saw the dagger in my husband's chest!" She collapses in tears before the magistrate. "I didn't know what to do. I ran through the forest. I must have, though I don't remember. Then I found myself standing by a pond at the foot of a hill. I threw myself into it. I tried to kill myself, but I failed. What should a poor helpless woman like me do?" She begins crying again.

The stranger rises, gnawing on an old apple he had with him. He gets up after listening to your account of events. He walks to the edge of the massive gate structure, spitting some of the half-rotten apple out into the pouring rain. He returns to the fire. "I see. But the more I hear, the more confused I become," he says sitting down. "Women lead you on with their tears. They even fool themselves. Now if I believed what she said, I'd really be confused."

You sit cross-legged, quiet and sad. You acknowledge your sadness and accept it. You remind yourself that all in the world is Impermanent, Unsatisfactory, and Selfless. Accepting these three facts is the only road to Liberation and eternal peace and happiness. All of this in the space of two eyeblinks. You continue. "But according to the husband's story..."

"But he's dead, how could a dead man talk?" the stranger asks.

"Through a medium," you say.

"Lies! His story was all lies!" the woodcutter says, getting up from the fire and walking a few steps away.

"What?" you ask. "Dead me tell no lies."

The stranger grabs your arm. "All right, Priest, why is that?"

"I can't believe that man would be so sinful," you say.

"I don't know," the stranger says. "I don't mind that." He sneers. "After all, who is to be trusted nowadays?"

You look away. The sadness deepens.

The stranger laughs, showing a few of his bad teeth. "Look, we all want to forget something, so we create stories. It's easier that way."

"Easier that way?" you say.

He laughs again and takes a bite out of his apple. "Never mind. Let's hear this dead man's story."

A flash lightening illuminates the sky. The thunder comes rumbling after.

 
The Man's Perspective

 

The medium shakes a Spirit Rattle in the magistrate's courtyard. She moves around a small altar on the sandy ground, up and down she moves. She spins in a circle two times, then stops and stands like a reed when there is no wind. She drops the rattle limply to the ground. Then she runs forth to the altar, in terror it seems. She speaks in an unearthly voice.

"I am in darkness now! I am suffering in the darkness! Cursed be those who cast me into this hell of darkness!"

She falls to the ground making something of a snarling sound. She crawls about on the ground snarling like an anguished beast. Then...

"After the bandit attacked my wife, he tried to console her. She sat down on the leaves, staring down into nothing. The bandit was cunning. He told her that she could no longer live with her husband. Why didn't she go with him, the bandit, rather than stay behind to be unhappy with her husband? He said he only attacked her because of his love for her. Never, in all our life together, had I seen her more beautiful! And what was my beautiful wife's reply to the bandit in front of her helpless husband?"

"Take me," she says to the bandit. "Take me away with you."

"That's what she said. But that is not all she did, or I wouldn't be here."

"Kill him," she says to the bandit as they are about to leave. "As long as he is alive, I cannot go with you. Kill him!" she cries and points to her husband.

"'Kill him!' I still hear those words!" The medium spins upon the ground, snarling in her unearthly voice. "They are like a wind, blowing me to the bottom of this pit. Has anyone uttered more pitiless words? Even the bandit was shocked to hear them!"

"Kill him," she says, clutching the bandit's shoulder. "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

The bandit scowls at her, disgusted, and throws her to the ground before her husband. He stands over her and puts his foot on her back.

The medium howls in laughter.
 

"What do you want me to do with her?" the bandit asks the man, gesturing with his sword. "Kill her? Spare her? Nod if you agree."

"For those words, I almost forgave the bandit."

"What do you want? Kill her? Let her go?" The bandit approaches the man, demanding an answer. Relieved the oppressive foot on her back, the woman rises and runs down the path, screaming. The bandit chases after her.

"Hours later, I don't know how many..."

The bandit returns, alone. He whips a branch angrily with a piece of rope.

The man stares silently off into space.

The bandit walks over to him and draws his sword and cuts his bonds. "She got away, now I'll have to worry about her talking," the bandit says and walked away.

"It was quiet. Everything was quiet. Then I heard something, someone crying..." The man weeps. He rises slowly from where he is sitting for so long and weeping, goes over to a tree. He leans against it and weeps bitterly. He wanders about, when a glint catches his eye. He approaches it and finds it to be his wife's discarded dagger, resting on a fan of branches. He picks it up and walks back to the clearing. Then, suddenly, he turns and thrusts the dagger downwards into his upper chest.

The medium plunges an imaginary dagger downwards into her upper chest. She slowly sinks to the ground.

"Everything was quiet, how quiet it was. It grew dark, a mist seemed to envelope me as I lay quietly in the stillness. Someone was approaching. Softly, gently, who could it have been? Then, a hand grasped the dagger, and drew it out."

The medium face falls slowly to the ground.

The woodcutter paces before the rain, then returns to the fire. "That's not true. There was no dagger, he was killed by sword."

You and the stranger exchange a glance.

The woodcutter wipes his face and continues his walking, moving behind you. He sits down on a piece of masonry.

You stare back at the rain.

The stranger gets up and goes behind you, leaving your sight. You hear his voice. "Now it's getting interesting. You must have seen it all. Why didn't you tell the police?"

"I didn't want to get involved," you hear the woodcutter say.

"But now you want to talk about it," the stranger says. "Tell me, then. Yours seems to be the most interesting."

"I don't want to hear!" you turn around and shout from where you are sitting. You can't stand it anymore. You have pushed all Mindfulness aside. You just can't stand it anymore. "I don't want to listen to any more."

The stranger's voice gets louder. "Stories like this are common enough now. I heard the demons in the gate fled because of man's horrors." That said, his voice lowers in volume. "Well, how much do you know about this story?"

"I found, a woman's hat," the woodcutter's voice says.

"You already said that," the stranger says.

"About twenty yards further along I heard a woman crying."

"I looked from behind a bush and saw a man tied up. The woman was crying, and there was Tajomaru."

"Then it was a lie when you said that you found the body," the stranger says, sounding insistent.

"I didn't want to get involved," the woodcutter's voice says again.

The stranger's voice can barely be heard. "All right then, go on, what was Tajomaru doing?"

"He was down on his knees, seeming to beg forgiveness."

 
Tajomaru's Perspective

 
"Until now," Tajomaru says, crouching over the woman who is weeping on the ground, "whenever I wanted to do anything bad, I did it. It was for me and so it was good. But today is different. I've already had you, but now I want you more and more. Go away with me! If you want I'll marry you! Look!"

She continues to weep into the leafy ground.

"I'm a famous bandit, Tajomaru, yet on my knees to you," he says, rubbing her back, trying to console her. "If you want, I'll stop being a bandit. I've enough hidden away, we can live comfortably. If you don't want me to steal, I'll work very hard! I'll even sell things in the street to make you happy. I'll do anything to please you, if you'll only come, marry me!

"Please say yes. If you don't, I'll have to kill you!" he says giving her a hard nudge with his hand. "Don't cry! Answer me! Tell me, be my wife!" He shoves her again.

She continues to cry. Then, she sits up as if suddenly aware. "How could I, a woman, answer a question like that?" She grabs her dagger, a short distance away.

Tajomaru jumps back.

The woman goes over to her husband and cuts the ropes that bind him.

Her husband struggles loose while she stumbles a few feet away and collapses, weeping again.

Tajomaru rises, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I understand, you mean we men must decide."

The man stands and puts up his hand, stepping back a bit. "Stop! Stop!" he says to Tajomaru. "I refuse to risk my life for such a woman."

Tajomaru looks at him, then at the woman.

Her crying stops. She looks up.

"You," her husband says, "you're a shameless whore. Why don't you kill yourself?" He looks at Tajomaru. "If you want her, I'll give her to you! I regret the loss of my horse more than the loss of her!"

She looks desperately to Tajomaru.

He watches her warily. Then, he wipes the sweat from his face and scowls at her. He begins to walk away.

"Wait!" she cries and runs after him.

"Don't follow me!" Tajomaru says.

She begins to cry again.

"Stop!" her husband says. "Don't waste your time crying!"

"Hush," Tajomaru turns and says to the man, "that's unmanly! Women can't help crying, they're weak."

She cries for a bit, then breaks into a screaming laugh. "It's not me! It's you two that are weak! If you're my husband, why don't you kill this man?" she asks her husband. "Then you can tell me to kill myself, like a real man would." She turns to Tajomaru. "But you aren't a real man," she says, laughing mockingly at him. "That's why I was crying. I'm tired. I'm tired of this farce!" She circles him. "I thought that Tajomaru might find some way out. I thought, if he'd only save me I'd do anything for him. But he's not a man either, he's just like my husband!" She spits in his face.

Tajomaru looks at her, shocked.

She laughs hysterically. "Just remember," she says to both of them, "a woman only loves a real man. And when she loves, she loves madly, forgetting all else. But a woman can only be won by the strength of swords." She smiles and walks over to Tajomaru, both of them staring at her husband.

The man places his hand on his sword's hilt, then draws it smoothly. He slashes at Tajomaru, then retreats.

Tajomaru's blade is instantly at the ready.

The woman laughs wildly.

The two men circle each other cautiously, looking for the advantage.

The woman's laugh dies down, she becoming suddenly serious and appearing fearful.

The man holds his sword in the traditional fighting posture, back and up at shoulder level, ready to strike.

Tajomaru holds his sword loosely pointing down, then higher. The two men look at each other with tension and hesitation. Finally, their swords approach slowly and cross once.

Each retreats, the man tripping down.

Tajomaru chases after the advantage, but he too trips on the leaf-covered ground. Then Tajomaru retreats several dozen feet away.

The man gets up and they make another slow approach.

Then Tajomaru charges.

The man retreats, parrying.

They fall next to each other. Tajomaru plunges his sword into the place where the man lies, but he is too late and misses.

The man strikes at Tajomaru, forcing him to leave his sword lodged in the ground. The man chases Tajomaru, wildly swinging.

Tajomaru agilely dodges the strikes, circling back to where his sword lies. After making three attempts to retrieve his sword, Tajomaru lay against the small rise.

The man readies for the killing strike. He thrusts.

Tajomaru ducks under it.

The man misses several more times and the chase goes on. Finally, with a wild strike, the man lodges his own sword in the stump of a dead tree.

Tajomaru, seeing this, dashes for his own sword.

The man grabs him by the leg and drops him to the ground.

Tajomaru wriggles free and continues in such a hurry, he proceeds at a flailing crawl. He periodically throws leaves and dirt into the man's face behind him. Coming closer to his sword, he turns and kicks the man and frees himself. He pulls his sword from the ground.

The man backs away in terror.

Tajomaru rises slowly, approaching the man like a tiger.

The man backs away in equal measures. Near to his sword, he makes a token attempt to reach for it, but Tajomaru warns him away with his sword.

Tajomaru backs him into a recess, a grotto, into the trees.

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" the man cries.

Carefully taking aim, Tajomaru thrusts the sword downward into the man.

His wife screams.

Tajomaru backs away and falls at her feet. He rises and tries to pull her up. Time to go.

She pulls her hands away and backs away from him.

He moves after her, hands reaching out pleadingly.

She strikes at his hands, the long white folds of her kimono extending her reach.

Tajomaru grabs the man's sword and pulls it loose. He swings at her.

She runs.

Tajomaru makes a stumbling attempt at giving chase, but after falling, stays down and pounds the ground, having hurt his leg. Then, fearfully, he goes over to the man and takes the man's sword. He limps away.

You laugh heartily and stand. "And I suppose that's the truth?" the stranger tosses in your direction.

The woodcutter's voice booms out. "I don't tell lies! I saw it with my own eyes!"

"That I doubt," the stranger counters.

"I don't lie! I saw it! With my own eyes!" the woodcutter says, getting closer.

"No one lies after he's said he is going to tell one."

Your eyes rest on the ground as you sit against one of the stone pillars. "If men don't trust one another then the earth becomes a hell," you say, not looking at either of them. It's more of an attack than a statement.

"Right," the stranger says, "the world's a kind of hell."

"No!" you yell in their direction. "I trust men! I don't want to believe that!" you throw at them and turn move away from. You clutch a nearby pillar. The weight of your disillusion is crushing.

You can hear the stranger following you. He laughs. "No one will hear you no matter how loud you shout. Just think, which one of these stories do you believe?"

"None makes any sense," the woodcutter says.

"Don't worry about it," the stranger says to him. "It isn't as if men were reasonable." He laughs again walk over to the fire. Squatting, he casts the burning pieces out into the relentless rain one by one, watching them be extinguished.

Then you hear a high-pitched noise, a cry, a baby's cry. All of you look around. The stranger follows the sound. You stand and follow the woodcutter as he follows the stranger behind the wooden latticework. The stranger is stripping the baby.

The woodcutter rushes around and pushes the stranger. "What are you doing?"

You scoop up the baby.

"What does it look like?" the stranger says.

"That's horrible!" the woodcutter says.

"Why? Someone else would have taken these," the stranger say, holding them up. "Why shouldn't I?"

"You're evil!" the woodcutter says.

"Me, evil?" he snaps back. "Then what about the parents of that baby?" You get closer to the woodcutter. "They had their fun, then they threw it away. That's evil!"

"No, you're wrong," the woodcutter says. "Look!" He points to the amulet. "Look at the amulet it wears. It was left to guard the baby. Think of what they went through to abandon this baby!"

"Well, if you're going to sympathize with others.." the stranger says, rolling his eyes.

"Selfish!" the woodcutter says.

You are resigned to it all.

"What's wrong with that?" the stranger says. He gets in the woodcutter's face. "That's the way we are, the way we live! You just can't live unless you're what you call 'Selfish'," he says in his face and walk a few steps away.

The woodcutter follows for a moment, then stops. "Brute! All men are selfish and dishonest!" he says under his breath. "They've all excuses... the bandit...you!"

The woodcutter attacks him, wrapping his hands around his neck, pushing them both out into the rain.

The stranger struggles, backing off. "You say you don't lie!" you throw at him. "That's funny! Look, you may have fooled the police, but not me."

The woodcutter lets go of him and backs up.

The stranger pushes him back under the gate. "So, where's the dagger?" He nudges him, moving closer. "The pearl-inlay one that the bandit said was so valuable?" He pushes him back some more. "Did the earth open and swallow it?" He pushes him against one of the great wooden doors. "Or, did someone steal it!" he says, waving a finger in his face.

The woodcutter says nothing.

The stranger starts laughing. "Am I right? It would seem so." More laughter. "Now there's a really selfish action for you!" He smacks the woodcutter in the face and laughs in triumph. He looks back. "Well, anything else you want to tell me? If not, I'll be going." He breaks into spontaneous laughter. The stranger walks off, running when the rain hits him, laughing like a madman.

Time passes. You and the woodcutter stand against the wall. The baby squirms quietly in your arms, so tiny, so precious. The rain stops abruptly and the baby starts wailing again. You start walking with the baby, rocking him.

The baby quiets.

The woodcutter follows and tries to take the baby from you.

You snap. The only peace you've had all day is threatened. You recoil. "What are you doing? Trying to take what little it has left?"

The baby cries again.

The woodcutter shakes his head slowly. "I've six children of my own. Another, wouldn't make it anymore difficult."

You slowly turn back towards him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh, you can't afford not to be suspicious these days," he says. "I'm the one who should be ashamed."

"No, I'm grateful, to you," you say, taking a moment, holding back emotion. Of course you can't care for the child, you're destiny is elsewhere. "Thanks to you, I think I'll be able to keep my faith in man." You hand over the baby to the woodcutter. It is hard, so hard. You want to nurture the little life. The two of you linger midway through the passing, then bow to each other. As the woodcutter walks away, you follow. At the edge of the gate, the woodcutter turns back. He bows to you.

You return the bow.

The woodcutter walks down the steps and into the sunlight. He smiles a little to himself.

The gate reads, "Rashomon."