The Testimony of Yuki Sakura Mitsumine

The Testimony of Yuki Sakura Mitsumine
Questioned by a High Police Commissioner 

I’m afraid to say so, sir. Yesterday afternoon, I was traveling the road to Yamashina. I was busy looking at a horse grazing by the roadside with his long rein dangling when I heard a woman shriek. I saw her run away from a grove in a hollow in the mountains and scream like a real mad person would have done. Then, she ran away, opposite to where I was heading to, and I caught a glimpse of her face. From what I saw she had a small, oval, brown-skinned face and a mole at the corner of her left eye. She turned left at the first corner and disappeared into the trees. Then, I saw a man come out from the same grove that the odd woman came from. He wore a dark blue silk kimono and had a large, plain sword. He also brought with him a bow wound with leather strips, a black lacquered quiver, and in the quiver were about twenty peculiar arrows. Apparently, he must’ve come to go after the woman. He looked from left to right, but I kept my lips sealed about what I’ve witnessed. I was frightened about what he might do to me if I say something because by his looks, he seemed to be a notorious criminal, a fugitive. He went the opposite way the woman did, the way headed for Yamashina. I did not try to stop him; I did not even tell him that he must go the other way around if he seeks to find the woman.

Suddenly I felt like my curiosity was taking control of me. When the man had gone far enough, I looked around and observed my surroundings. No one, not even a single person was in sight. How could this place be desolated? After several minutes of hitting my head spent with mumbling, I have decided that I will once and for all go inside that grove and let my curiosity win me over.

I was about to go inside when I realized that the horse was just a few feet away from the entrance to the grove. Could this be the horse of the woman or of the fugitive? I am not certain about that. Since I figured that whoever owned the horse was not so important, I just decided to not mind what I saw and go on with that I had in mind.

I reminded myself that if I wanted to live I have to be cautious about every move I make. There could be a possibility that someone set up a trap for me or for somebody else. I have no idea, not even the faintest one, about what happened inside this grove or even what might be happening inside. I planned to hide behind the bamboo-blades, and it turns out my idea paid off. I felt goose bumps all over my body when I saw a man who seemed like he has not much life left to live and has trouble breathing. He was panting heavily, and raised his exhausted body with great difficulty. I watched him do all this in great silence. Then, he searched the grove, looking for something. I saw his eyes grow bigger when he caught sight of something which I couldn’t see perfectly. I noticed that he held something glinting in his hands. And he thrust it into his breast. I was flabbergasted! That thing he got was a small sword! How stupid of me! Such disgrace on my part to let someone die. I immediately ran to the man’s side, and a bloody lump rose to his mouth. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from screaming. As I gulped down my sobs, I softly drew the small sword out of the man’s chest. I tried to see what I could do to revive him, but I found out that there wasn’t anything I could do to help this man live. He had killed himself.

I stood up and told myself that if I intended to preserve my name, my honor, my dignity, I will have to leave this man, go away, and continue living my life as if nothing happened. I gazed at the blood-stained dagger in my hand and enclosed it in the dead man’s hand. If others saw me with that thing, I would have to take the blame for this man’s death and take the punishment although I’m completely innocent.

I did nothing to cause him this agony. Please forgive me for what I’ve done. The memory of this tragic incident has been haunting me, and there’s nothing I could do to prevent it from doing so. I am humbly begging forgiveness from the great Kwannon. I may have not helped the man live, but it is not, most certainly not, I who killed him. Please believe me! I am telling the truth!