As has been said, the servant was waiting for a break in the rain. But he had no particular idea of what to do after the rain stopped.Ordinarily, of course, he would have returned to his master's house, but he had been discharged just before.The prosperity of the city of Kyoto had been rapidly declining, and he had been dismissed by his master, whom he had served many years, because of the effects of this decline.Thus, confined by the rain, he was at a loss to know where to go.And the weather had not a little to do with his depressed mood.The rain seemed unlikely to stop.He was lost in thoughts of how to make his living tomorrow, helpless incoherent thoughts protesting an inexorable fate.Aimlessly he had been listening to the pattering of the rain on the Sujaku Avenue.

The rain, enveloping the Rashomon, gathered strength and came down with a pelting sound that could be heard far away. Looking up, he saw a fat black cloud impale itself on the tips of the tiles jutting out from the roof of the gate.

He had little choice of means, whether fair or foul, because of his helpless circumstances. If he chose honest means, he would undoubtedly starve to death beside the wall or in the Sujaku gutter.He would be brought to this gate and thrown away like a stray dog.If he decided to steal… His mind, after making the same detour time and again, came finally to the conclusion that he would be a thief.But doubts returned many times.Though determined that he had no choice, he was still unable to muster enough courage to justify the conclusion that he must become a thief.

After a loud fit of sneezing he got up slowly. The evening chill of Kyoto made him long for the warmth of a brazier.The wind in the evening dusk howled through the columns of the gate.The cricket which had been perched on the crimson-lacquered column was already gone.

Ducking his neck, he looked around the gate, and drew up the shoulders of the blue kimono which he wore over his yellow thin underwear. He decided to spend the night there, if he could find a secluded corner sheltered from wind and rain.He found a broad lacquered stairway leading to the tower over the gate.No one would be there, except the dead, if there were any.So, taking care that the sword at his side did not slip out of the scabbard, he set foot on the lowest step of the stairs.

A few seconds later, halfway up the stairs, he saw a movement above. Holding his breath and huddling cat-like in the middle of the broad stairs leading to the tower, he watched and waited.A light coming from the upstairs shone on his right cheek with the red, festering pimple visible under his stubby whiskers.He had expected only dead people inside the tower, but he had only gone up a few steps before he noticed a fire above, about which someone was moving.He saw a dull, yellow, flickering light which made the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling glow in a ghostly way.What sort of person would be making a light in the Rashomon… and in a storm?The unknown, the evil terrified him.

As quietly as a lizard, the servant crept up to the top of the steep stairs. Crouching on all fours, and stretching his neck as far as possible, he timidly peeped into the tower.

As rumor had said, he found several corpses strewn carelessly about the floor. Since the glow of the light was feeble, he couldnot count the number.He could only see that some were naked and others clothed.Some of them were women, and all were lolling on the floor with their mouths open or their arms outstretched showing no more signs of life than so many clay dolls.One would doubt that they had ever been alive, so eternally silent they were.Their shoulders, breasts, and torsos stood out in the dim light;other parts vanished in shadow.The offensive smell of these decomposed corpses brought his hand to his nose.

The next moment his hand dropped and he stared. He caught sight of a ghoulish form bent over a corpse.It seemed to be an old woman, gaunt, gray-haired, and delirious in appearance.With a pine torch in her right hand, she was peeping into the face of a corpse which had long black hair.

Seized more with horror than curiosity, he even forgot to breathe for a time. He felt the hair of his head and body stand on end.As he watched, terrified, she wedged the torch between two floor boards and, laying hands on the heads of the corpse, began to pull out the long hairs one by one, as a monkey kills the lice of her young.The hair came out smoothly with the movement of her hands.