With his ears ripped from his head by the samurai ghost, Ho-ichi sat with blood dripping from his wounds.

“Osamu, the priest, returned just before sunrise. As he rounded the corner of the temple and followed the stone pathway back to the porch he slipped in something wet. ‘What is this?’ he exclaimed. Osamu bent over and ran his finger through the wet spot on the stone. ‘Blood! Ho-ichi!’ cried Osamu as he ran forward. ‘Ho-ich! What has happened?’

“There I was, lying on the porch of the temple, soaked with blood, my hands pressed to the sides of my head. ‘Ho-ichi! Ho-ichi! Speak to me!’

“Hearing the sound of my friend’s voice, I sobbed out the whole story.

”It was my fault! All my fault,’ moaned Osamu. ‘I never should have left. My servants were careless. They did not paint the sacred text on your ears! This is why the ghost samurai could see them. You have come through the darkness with courage. The ghosts are gone never to return. You are free. Come; let me tend your wounds.

“Osamu took me inside and bandaged my wounds. In time my wounds healed. In time I took up my biwa and once again began to sing and tell the ancient stories of my land and the stories of the Heike family. But now I told of my own strange encounter with the ghosts of the Heike family.

Many great noblemen and warriors came to hear me. In time I became rich and famous for my storytelling. But from that time on I was no longer known as just Ho-ichi. I was known as ‘Ho-ichi the Ear-less.’”

Next time: “Dreaming to Waking?”