From the Journal of Matsu Sanuro
(Sanuro was cousin to Matsu Sinoku, a Lion playwright. Sinoku’s mother was a Scorpion and while she credited her mother for her skill with the pen, she was never a trusted member of her family. Her last play, Mercy, was perhaps her most powerful work. It only played once, and the consequences of that night were recorded in her cousin’s journal…)
Only last evening I was witness to something I shall never forget. I attended the opening night of my cousin’s play, Mercy. I pray that as I write, I will find the strength to keep tears from falling into the fresh ink so my words can be read and the events of last evening remembered.
I settled down in our Lord Akodo’s theater and prepared for the evening by reading the argument. I saw that my cousin had chosen the tale that she had longed to write for many, many years. It was the tale of Matsu Uji, a young hero of noteworthy courage, strength and insight; a tale every Lion should know by heart. It would be a tragic play, for the young daimyo was a man of passion who married a beautiful Scorpion out of love, rather than duty. The Scorpion bride plotted with Uji’s karo Sojuno to murder her husband and take over the Clan. Of course, the whole affair ended with a massacre and the cast lying in pools of blood. It is considered a lesson in humility, honor and loyalty.
As the theater grew dark, I felt the anticipation swell in my belly. I watched for the rising of the curtain, but remained still. Then, I heard a quiet footfall beside me, and I saw a beautiful woman walk through the audience toward the stage. She climbed the steps, turned toward us and delivered a soliloquy I will never forget….
Good evening, dearest brothers and sisters.
This evening, you will be witness to a tragedy. The Tragedy of Matsu Uji, it has been called. But this evening it has a different name, and with a new name comes a new lesson.
My name is Shosuro Sushanume, and I am the Scorpion bride of your Matsu Uji. I am the villain, the seductress, the traitor. I will seduce Uji’s karo, and while he lies in my arms, I will persuade him into betrayal and murder.
And as he will be seduced, my brothers and sisters, so shall you all be seduced.
And just as my husband is murdered, so shall you all be murdered.
For if it is true that death brings new light to our eyes, then so shall your eyes be opened.
Arm yourselves now.
For murder is my motive.
And my words are poison.
The curtain rose then, and she paced the stage introducing the cast of the tragedy. She began with her husband, speaking of his nature as we listened and he went on his way, oblivious to the observation and Shosuro’s words.
Here is the man who is my husband, Matsu Uji. Look at him. Proud. Stroange. Courageous. A true Lion. But where is his compassion. Where is his cunning?
His pride and courage have dulled them to a sliver, a smudge, a faint remnant of what they once were. He is a Lion. Loyal to his kinsmen and faithful to his word.
But as the sun sets and the cold night creeps across the land, where does he go? To the comfort of his bed? To the comfort of his wife?
No.
He finds comfort in the arms of another.
And another. And another.
And I am at home, waiting for his return. Every night he spends away from his wedding bed is a betrayal.
I found solace in the arms of one. That is betrayal, for I am a Scorpion and my heart is black; for I did not seek comfort in the arms of another, but revenge.
He found comfort in the arms of many. But that is not betrayal, for his is a Lion’s heart. And I am certain that while his body lay with another, his heart lay with me, and it was because I was weak that I did not find satisfaction in that sentiment.
The play continued. She introduced each of the characters, and with each one, we saw them as caricatures of the virtues we were taught to revere. A courageous man was blindly irrational. A temperate man was fearful of failure. An idealistic man was foolish and could not see truth if it were sitting on his nose.
As I watched the play unfold, I saw the events I knew by heart as seen through her eyes. I saw Uji’s temper and bull-headedness. I saw his stubbornness cloud his judgement and I saw his callousness toward a woman who only sought a hint of compassion.
I saw the karo Sanjuno – young, handsome and passionate – fall eagerly into the beautiful Scorpion’s arms. Then, as Sushanume stroked his long, beautiful hair, I saw him confess his hatred of his lord, and how it grew from watching Uji strike her day after day, then flee to the willing arms of a geisha. As Sushanume stoked his fire for vengeance, I saw her cunning scheme begin to take shape, and for a moment, my heart raced with the anticipation of watching it unfold.
Then I saw the faithful maid who discovers the Scorpion’s treachery, and I saw her look over Sushanume’s beauty with jealous eyes. She licked her lips eagerly with the thought of out-maneuvering a Scorpion, especially Sushanume, who so obviously did not deserve the beauty she was born with.
Finally, the duel. I saw Sanjuno draw steel against his lord, Uji’s countenance furious over the thought of his wife and karo betraying his trust. And in the back of my mind, I heard myself think, “If you were not so cold to her, and if you had shown him the honor he deserved…”
The duel began, and when Sanjuno’s blade struck down his lord, his weeping eyes turned to Sushanume, and his steel cut through her skin as well. Then, the young karo fell on his own blade, death finding him instantly.
Bleeding on the floor, the husband and wife looked at each other, life fleeing from them with every breath. Quietly, Uji asked, “Why? Why did you betray me?
Despite the pain, Sushanume smiled. “If you were a better man, you would not need to ask.” She choked for a moment, then said, “Then again, if you were a better man…”
And with those words, Shosuro Sushanume died.
As the lights rose in the stunned and silent theater, I found tears upon my cheeks. But they where not tears for Uji.
They were tears for Sushanume.
There was a sudden movement in the rows before me, and my focus followed it. Akodo Kuinjin had leapt to his feet with his katana in hand, standing before my cousin Sinoku. Before anyone could move, the blade cut through Sinoku, killing her instantly. Then, his raged spilled onto the stage as his blade sliced through the terror-struck actors, one by one.
Finally, he turned to the audience, his eyes filled with fury. But when he spoke, his voice was as calm as a warm, sunny summer’s day. “This play will never be performed again,” he whispered. He sheathed his blade and walked from the theater without looking back.
My cousin’s name has been ripped from the history books. All copies of her play have been destroyed. All of them but the one she sent to me on the morning of her last day.
It arrived this morning.
I read it again just now.
I cannot hold back the tears.
Only last evening I was witness to something I shall never forget. I attended the opening night of my cousin’s play, Mercy. I pray that as I write, I will find the strength to keep tears from falling into the fresh ink so my words can be read and the events of last evening remembered.
I settled down in our Lord Akodo’s theater and prepared for the evening by reading the argument. I saw that my cousin had chosen the tale that she had longed to write for many, many years. It was the tale of Matsu Uji, a young hero of noteworthy courage, strength and insight; a tale every Lion should know by heart. It would be a tragic play, for the young daimyo was a man of passion who married a beautiful Scorpion out of love, rather than duty. The Scorpion bride plotted with Uji’s karo Sojuno to murder her husband and take over the Clan. Of course, the whole affair ended with a massacre and the cast lying in pools of blood. It is considered a lesson in humility, honor and loyalty.
As the theater grew dark, I felt the anticipation swell in my belly. I watched for the rising of the curtain, but remained still. Then, I heard a quiet footfall beside me, and I saw a beautiful woman walk through the audience toward the stage. She climbed the steps, turned toward us and delivered a soliloquy I will never forget….
Good evening, dearest brothers and sisters.
This evening, you will be witness to a tragedy. The Tragedy of Matsu Uji, it has been called. But this evening it has a different name, and with a new name comes a new lesson.
My name is Shosuro Sushanume, and I am the Scorpion bride of your Matsu Uji. I am the villain, the seductress, the traitor. I will seduce Uji’s karo, and while he lies in my arms, I will persuade him into betrayal and murder.
And as he will be seduced, my brothers and sisters, so shall you all be seduced.
And just as my husband is murdered, so shall you all be murdered.
For if it is true that death brings new light to our eyes, then so shall your eyes be opened.
Arm yourselves now.
For murder is my motive.
And my words are poison.
The curtain rose then, and she paced the stage introducing the cast of the tragedy. She began with her husband, speaking of his nature as we listened and he went on his way, oblivious to the observation and Shosuro’s words.
Here is the man who is my husband, Matsu Uji. Look at him. Proud. Stroange. Courageous. A true Lion. But where is his compassion. Where is his cunning?
His pride and courage have dulled them to a sliver, a smudge, a faint remnant of what they once were. He is a Lion. Loyal to his kinsmen and faithful to his word.
But as the sun sets and the cold night creeps across the land, where does he go? To the comfort of his bed? To the comfort of his wife?
No.
He finds comfort in the arms of another.
And another. And another.
And I am at home, waiting for his return. Every night he spends away from his wedding bed is a betrayal.
I found solace in the arms of one. That is betrayal, for I am a Scorpion and my heart is black; for I did not seek comfort in the arms of another, but revenge.
He found comfort in the arms of many. But that is not betrayal, for his is a Lion’s heart. And I am certain that while his body lay with another, his heart lay with me, and it was because I was weak that I did not find satisfaction in that sentiment.
The play continued. She introduced each of the characters, and with each one, we saw them as caricatures of the virtues we were taught to revere. A courageous man was blindly irrational. A temperate man was fearful of failure. An idealistic man was foolish and could not see truth if it were sitting on his nose.
As I watched the play unfold, I saw the events I knew by heart as seen through her eyes. I saw Uji’s temper and bull-headedness. I saw his stubbornness cloud his judgement and I saw his callousness toward a woman who only sought a hint of compassion.
I saw the karo Sanjuno – young, handsome and passionate – fall eagerly into the beautiful Scorpion’s arms. Then, as Sushanume stroked his long, beautiful hair, I saw him confess his hatred of his lord, and how it grew from watching Uji strike her day after day, then flee to the willing arms of a geisha. As Sushanume stoked his fire for vengeance, I saw her cunning scheme begin to take shape, and for a moment, my heart raced with the anticipation of watching it unfold.
Then I saw the faithful maid who discovers the Scorpion’s treachery, and I saw her look over Sushanume’s beauty with jealous eyes. She licked her lips eagerly with the thought of out-maneuvering a Scorpion, especially Sushanume, who so obviously did not deserve the beauty she was born with.
Finally, the duel. I saw Sanjuno draw steel against his lord, Uji’s countenance furious over the thought of his wife and karo betraying his trust. And in the back of my mind, I heard myself think, “If you were not so cold to her, and if you had shown him the honor he deserved…”
The duel began, and when Sanjuno’s blade struck down his lord, his weeping eyes turned to Sushanume, and his steel cut through her skin as well. Then, the young karo fell on his own blade, death finding him instantly.
Bleeding on the floor, the husband and wife looked at each other, life fleeing from them with every breath. Quietly, Uji asked, “Why? Why did you betray me?
Despite the pain, Sushanume smiled. “If you were a better man, you would not need to ask.” She choked for a moment, then said, “Then again, if you were a better man…”
And with those words, Shosuro Sushanume died.
As the lights rose in the stunned and silent theater, I found tears upon my cheeks. But they where not tears for Uji.
They were tears for Sushanume.
There was a sudden movement in the rows before me, and my focus followed it. Akodo Kuinjin had leapt to his feet with his katana in hand, standing before my cousin Sinoku. Before anyone could move, the blade cut through Sinoku, killing her instantly. Then, his raged spilled onto the stage as his blade sliced through the terror-struck actors, one by one.
Finally, he turned to the audience, his eyes filled with fury. But when he spoke, his voice was as calm as a warm, sunny summer’s day. “This play will never be performed again,” he whispered. He sheathed his blade and walked from the theater without looking back.
My cousin’s name has been ripped from the history books. All copies of her play have been destroyed. All of them but the one she sent to me on the morning of her last day.
It arrived this morning.
I read it again just now.
I cannot hold back the tears.
