text: The abbot was unskilled in sex perhaps, but he was thorough and meticulous. His lips followed, delicately tracing the lines of Okiku's slipper folds. He was patient and he was willing and Okiku wondered how such a saintly man could also be such a fanatic. Finally, at her request, he knelt between her legs and presented an unremarkable cock to her sopping entrance. He thrust into her, looking at her face to judge the effect, and when he saw her lids close sensuously and her hips jerk, nodded in satisfaction. He fingered a steel rosary. As her orgasm arrived, he would use it. At least she would die in pleasure, perhaps to be reborn in the afterlife as a man or a cow or some other higher being.
  
  Okiku raised her naked legs to allow the abbot more access to her cunt. He worked well at her and she felt minor tremors of the initial orgasms. She had heard the chink of the metal beads and knew what he intended. Both her hands were now free of the cords he had tied around her wrists. She felt the first tremors of her orgasm flood her interior. Before he could identify them and act she had slipped the thin steel blade extracted from her sleeve sheath between his ribs and into his heart.
  
  The abbot groaned. His control over his penis slackened and a small spurt of sperm escaped. He pulled himself slowly out her, his eyes glazing, lacking the strength to strike her temple with the steel beads as he'd intended. He fell backwards onto a box of oval coins.
  
  "I am dying," he said. "So sad, so sad. Millions will not be saved because they do not know Yakushi Nyorai's grace. That is what I did it all for ..."
  
  "Including Ito's murder?"
  
  He nodded weakly. "I did not have the resources for a properly glorious and attractive temple. My craftsmen showed me the way. We made statues, artifacts, decorations of gilding. Why not then coins as well? It would have been glorious, a shining temple dedicated to the one true god. I tried to cultivate Ito's friendship. Gave him gifts. Of course, I couldn't afford the sort of antique armor he fancied and so I had one of my craftsmen make up a fake one and gild it cheaply. Didn't think Ito would notice." He gasped. His lips were turning blue and he supported his side with his hand. "I ... I couldn't afford to hire craftsmen. But that did not matter. I had them brought to me ... by my monks. I could not reward them, but the work for the daibutsu should be reward enough." He coughed pinkly.
  
  "And Ito?" She prompted.
  
  "He hinted to me that he knew. Some days ago. I had my craftsman make the sword then."
  
  "Sword?" Okiku asked.
  
  Saishiden laughed, then coughed as blood welled out of his mouth. "You mean your smart magistrate hasn't figured it out yet? Or you? Fumijiri, that's the artisan, was a genius! A pity he was such a drunkard too. I had to have him killed as well when he ran off to have a drink. There's a spring-operated piston in the hilt. I knew Ito's habits you see. Every man holds a sword in a particular way. Ito loved playing a part and he always held his swords the same way and went through the same motions. He triggered his own death. Once he raised the sword, the tiny cover slipped open. When he grasped the hilt with his left he triggered the mechanism."
  
  "And the fire on his clothes?"
  
  "Simple. We had to add a small powder charge. The spring wasn't powerful enough."
  
  "But why kill him?"
  
  "He became suspicious. He examined the armor, don't you understand? He hinted he was suspicious when he gave me a Senno Rikyu tea bowl. I saw him later--by then I'd put a watch on him from the eaves--examine the armor carefully."
  
  "Why give him the armor?"
  
  The abbot sighed and his face twisted with pain again. "I made a mistake. I'd hoped to rally him to my cause. To build the most magnificent temple to the worship of the Daibutsu. I failed. I failed!!" He wailed the last and his chubby body arced off the floor. A flood of blood gushed from his mouth. The body relaxed. He was dead.