What a Friend We Have in Jizōs 27

But we were out of earshot soon enough, in a world of stone paths that led upward along running streams and bamboo groves, to exotic verdigris rooflines, red lanterns and Chinese peonies, bronze bells and pink rhododendrons, bonsai black pine and topiary, and long sharpened bamboo conduits hurling long thick streams of falling water into green ponds full of orange and ghostly white koi. Caution. It is not good to drink! We washed out hands at a stone basin, three ladles left for the purpose.
“You can buy a clay bell charm.” I said. “It’s a spiritual replacement for evil destiny. The day it breaks, the bad luck that was supposed to happen to you, will happen to the bell instead.” But my Destiny was good, and no purchase was necessary. 
The first two statues we encountered were male. Fudo-Myo-O, the Immovable Wisdom King, was a most beloved angry god, surrounded by flames, holding a sword and a rope in its hands. His scary demeanor was intended to frighten evil spirits, and his every detail possessed an advanced symbolism- the flames were to consume evil, the sword was the sword of wisdom cutting through ignorant minds, and the coiled rope bound those ruled by violent passions. 
Jikokuten was the next bronze statue, the Guardian of the Nation, the Keeper of the Kingdom, the Upholder of the Country, and the Protector of the World. He commanded an army of celestial musicians and vampire demons, and often carried a sword in right hand, with his closed left hand resting on a hip. Sometimes, instead, he was cast holding a lute harkening the Middle Way- strings broke if too tight, but no sound produced, if too slack.
“No women.” Robyn said.
“Over here.” I said. We entered the small hall of the Benten-do. Arising out of a lotus flower, emerged the beautiful eight-armed bronze goddess of feminine beauty and wealth, the divinity of reason, the patron of literature and music, and much more.