Chapter 3: Edo Period Japan

Rows of Buddhist monks chanted sutras in rhythmic unison within the Jodo Shinshu temple. Their droning voices carried outside the massive wooden building through its rice paper windows, muffled by fresh snow on the dirt and cobblestone dusk streets of the tiny rural Japanese village of Fukui Prefecture on the northwest Honshu island.

A peasant woman in a snow-dusted, wide-brimmed straw hat and wooden geta, or clogs, silently deposited a dark ceramic urn filled with grains of rice on the temple's door step. She then bowed deeply, hands clasped, wrinkled eyes closed tightly, and muttered the Nembutsu prayer to herself as the droning voices continued, "Namu Amida Butsu."

Inside, the monks sat erect in lotus position in the near darkness, the pause between verses punctuated by short measured inhalations. Scores of bald shaved heads framed by jet black robes bowed in symmetrical rows before the candlelit golden shrine of Amida Buddha, the Enlightened One.

The Elder Priest kneeling at the head of the room raised a cylindrical ebony mallet and struck the cast iron temple bell several times. Its bellowing ring resonated through the chamber, through each narrow temple corridor, echoing endlessly through minds empty of thoughts, focused only on the Void within.

One monk, Hideo Sako, could not concentrate. His torso rocked gently back and forth, brow wrinkled with stress as his lips formed the syllables of rote prayer. Beyond tightly closed eyes he was crouched behind the wide trunk of an elm tree at a river's edge. Hugging the trunk, he pressed his head against the chalky bark, scraping his cheek as he edged his face out ever so slightly, straining for a view.

The Elder Priest rose slowly until he was standing. He gazed out at the rows of chanting monks, focusing on the orange-red dot painted on each forehead, studying them. Picking up his ebony mallet in one hand, he began walking down the aisle.

In Hideo's mind, sitting nude on a smooth flat rock in the rushing river currents was Kumiko, a beautiful village girl of fifteen. Hideo spied her as she wrung her hip-length ink black hair of water in her tiny hands, her knees slightly parted and dark pubic triangle in view. Kumiko's developing breasts were full and perfect, her round nipples pink and erect from the cold water, and her smooth, unblemished skin pale and milky.

Hideo breathed heavily and irregularly, gasping at her luscious female symmetry. Short moans escaped his lips. Sweat trickled down his furled brow as blood engorged and distended his pulsating male organ. He reached down inside his robe to free his manhood from his clothes.

Ripples of bright, undulating points of light flickered before Hideo's eyes as the back of his head took the full impact of the Elder Priest's swinging mallet. Blood trickled down his neck as he slumped over in his place unconscious, forehead touching the tatami mat floor.

The other monks continued their chanting, never missing a beat. The Elder Priest continued down the aisle.