Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. Mountain Hut

Because the birds' voices were so clamorous, Ichirou opened his eyes.

The night had already completely ended.

From the corner of the hut, three blue rods of sunlight slanted straight over the brothers' heads and illuminated the mountain knives and hamubaki tools on the opposite kaya-thatched wall.

In the middle of the earthen floor, the firewood was burning red.
The rods of sunlight also appeared blue because of the smoke, and the smoke, taking on various shapes, drifted ceaselessly through those luminous rods.

“Well, it’s fully dawn now.”
Ichirou muttered to himself as he turned back toward his younger brother Narao.
Narao’s face was apple-red, his mouth slightly open, still sleeping peacefully.
Because the white teeth were slightly visible, Ichirou suddenly flicked them with his finger, producing a click.

Narao kept his eyes closed, frowned slightly for a moment, then began breathing softly and fell back asleep.

“Wake up, Narao. Dawn’s here. Get up.”
Ichirou said while vigorously shaking Narao’s head back and forth.

Narao made an unpleasant face, muttered something under his breath, but finally opened his eyes slightly.
And indeed, looking thoroughly startled,

“Oh, so we’ve come to the mountain after all,” he muttered.

“Last night—no, early this mornin’—the fire went out. I remember that.”

Ichirou said.

“I don’t know.”

“It was cold, you know.
“Father got up and lit it again, I guess.”

Narao didn’t reply and seemed to be vaguely thinking about something else.

“Father’s out workin’. C’mon, get up.”

“Yeah.”

There, the two of them got up from the small single futon in which they had curled up together to sleep.
And then they went to the side of the fire.
Narao rubbed his eyes, which were stinging from the smoke, and Ichirou was staring fixedly at the fire.

Outside, the mountain stream roared, and birds chirped sharply.

At that moment, a sudden dazzling golden sunlight flowed down to Ichirou’s feet.

When he looked up, the entrance burst open, the snow on the opposite mountain glinted piercingly white, and Father appeared pitch-black as he entered.

“You’re up. Though I suppose you weren’t cold last night?”

“No.”

“The fire went out, didn’t it. I got up twice to relight it. Come on, rinse your mouth. The meal’s ready, Narao.”

“Yeah.”

“Which d’ya like better—home or the mountain?”

“The mountain’s better… but then I can’t go to school either.”

Then Father laughed while lifting the pot slightly.

Ichirou stood up and went outside.
Narao also followed him out.

What a beautiful sight it was.
The sky stretched smooth and radiant blue, its light needling into their eyes with piercing intensity. When they looked at the sun, it hung like a colossal celestial jewel scattering flecks of orange, green, and glittering particles that made them squint. Shutting their eyes against the glare, azure light now glowed within the indigo darkness behind their eyelids. Each time they reopened them, the cerulean expanse before them swam dizzily with violet tones, golden glimmers, and countless afterimages of the sun.

Ichirou cupped water from the gutter in his hands.
The icicles from the gutter formed thick pillars reaching all the way down, and the water—clear through to the bottom, glistening in the sunlight while steaming—appeared deceptively warm, though in truth it was piercingly cold.
Ichirou quickly rinsed his mouth and then washed his face.

Then, because his hands were too cold, he stretched them out toward the sun.
When they still wouldn’t warm, he pressed them against his throat.

At that time, Narao was also imitating Ichirou’s actions, but finally stopped because it was too cold.
Narao’s hands were indeed red and swollen from frostbite.
Ichirou suddenly ran over
“It’s cold,” he said while enveloping those wet, small red hands within both of his own to warm them.

And so the two of them entered the hut again.

Father stared fixedly at the fire while pondering something, and the pot clattered as it boiled.

The two of them also sat down.

The sun was already quite high, and the three blue rods of sunlight had grown much steeper.

The snow on the opposite mountain stood out vividly against the blue sky, and as they gazed at it, their hearts seemed to drift far away.

Suddenly, at its summit, something white and hazy—like smoke or mist—appeared in a flash.

After some time had passed, a shrill, flute-like whistle sounded.

Then Narao contorted his mouth into a strange expression for a while, but finally, for some reason, began to sob quietly.
Ichirou also made a strange face and looked at Narao.

Father was there,

“What’s wrong? You were all set to go home—what’s wrong?” he asked, but Narao just pressed both hands to his face and cried even harder without answering.

“What’s wrong, Narao? Stomachache?”
Ichirou also asked, but he just kept crying.

Father stood up, placed his hand on Narao’s forehead to check, then firmly pressed down on his head.

Then gradually he stopped crying, until in the end he was merely sobbing quietly.

“Why’re you cryin’?
“You were all set to go home, weren’t ya.”
Father said.

“Nuh-uh.”
Narao shook his head while sobbing.

“Where’s it hurtin’?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“If you’re gonna cry over nothin’, a man don’t cry.”

“I ain’t scared,” he finally answered, still crying.

“Why ain’t you scared? Father’s here and Brother’s here too, and it’s light till noon—there ain’t nothin’ to be scared of.”

“N-no, I ain’t scared.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of.”

“Did you mention Kaze no Matasaburou?”

“What’d I say? Kaze no Matasaburou or anything like that ain’t nothin’ to be scared of. What’d I say?”

“Father, did you say you’d get me new clothes?”
Narao cried again.
Ichirou also shuddered inexplicably.
However, Father laughed.

“Ah hahaha! Kaze no Matasaburou, you’ve come up with a good one.”
“When April comes, I’ll buy you new clothes.”
“There’s nothing to cry about at all.”
“Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry.”
Ichirou also peered in from the side and comforted him.

“Did you say more?”
Narao rubbed his eyes until they were red and said.
“What did you say?”
“Then Mother—did you say you’d wash me in hot water?”
“Ah haha, that there’s a lie.”
“Narao here always takes baths alone anyway.”
“Kaze no Matasaburou’s just a lie.”
“Don’t cry, don’t cry.”
Father’s face had somehow turned pale, yet he was forcing a smile.
For some reason, Ichirou’s chest tightened, and he couldn’t laugh.
Narao still hadn’t stopped crying.

“Come on, eat rice and don’t cry.”

Rubbing his eyes, Narao looked at Ichirou with strangely red and shrunken eyes and spoke again.

“Then did you say everyone would send me off like that?”

“We’ll all send you off like you said.”
“That ain’t it. When you’ve grown up proper and go off somewhere, that’s when we’ll all send you off like I said.”
“It’s all just kind words.”
“Don’t cry.”
“There, don’t cry.”
“When spring comes, I’ll take you to see the Morioka Festival, so don’t cry. There.”

Ichirou had turned deathly pale and was silently watching the fire illuminated by sunlight, but at this moment he finally spoke.

“Oh, come on—Kaze no Matasaburou ain’t nothin’ to be scared of.
“They’re always just deceiving people with this and that nonsense.”

Narao too had finally been reduced to mere sobbing.
Because he had been crying and rubbing his eyes in the smoke, the area around them had turned black, making him look somewhat like a small raccoon dog.

Father somehow laughed as if crying.

“Come on, let’s wash your face one more time,” he said while standing up.

II. Mountain Pass

By afternoon, the sound of the mountain stream had changed considerably.
It sounded somehow warm and yet somehow calm.

Father was talking with a man who had come leading a horse to unload charcoal at the hut's entrance.
They talked for a very long time.
Then the man began loading the charcoal bales onto the horse.
The two boys went out to look from the entrance.

The horse was devouring hay with vigor, its mane brown and disheveled, its eyes large with various curious mechanisms visible within them, appearing profoundly pitiful.

Father said to the two boys.

“So then you follow this person back home. This one’s going all the way to Narahana. If th’ weather holds come Saturday, I’ll come fetch you again – hear me now?”

Because tomorrow was Monday, the two had to return home to attend school.

“Then we’d best get going,”
Ichirou said.

“Right—when you get back home, tell Mother to ask someone comin’ this way to bring over the big saw, hear? That’ll do.
Don’t forget, hear?
From here to home’s exactly an hour an’ a half—even if you go slow, you’ll make it back in three an’ a half hours.
Even if your throat’s dry, don’t eat snow.”

“Yeah.”
Narao answered.
Narao had completely regained his cheerfulness and was bouncing around.

After the man leading the horse had finished securing all the charcoal bales onto the horse and tied the rope across its back,

“Alright then, let’s get going.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if the young’uns go on ahead?” he asked the boys’ father.
“No need for that.”
“Please do take care of ’em.”
Father laughed and bowed.
“Right then, let’s get movin’,”
The man took up the reins and started forward, bells clinking-clanking, the horse hanging its head as it plodded slowly onward.

Ichirou had Narao walk ahead and followed behind him.
The path was well-packed and comfortable underfoot; the sky had cleared to a deep blue, yet it was rather chilly.

“The clusters are hanging down!” Narao suddenly shouted.
Ichirou, unable to hear clearly from behind, asked, “What?”

“Clusters are hanging down on that tree!”
Narao said again.
When he looked, right below the cliff stood a single tree, its branches laden with brown fruits hanging down in clusters.
Ichirou watched them for a while.
Then, having fallen a little behind the horse, he hurried to catch up.
The man leading the horse at this moment glanced back over his shoulder as if peering their way, then started walking again in silence.

The snow on the path had hardened, but because the ground was uneven, the horse would often stumble.
Narao, too, was walking while looking around, so he also seemed to stumble frequently.
“Watch your step as you walk,” Ichirou kept saying.

The path had at some point separated from the mountain stream and begun to circle the midslope of a large, elephant-shaped hill.
Several chestnut trees stood clad in withered dried leaves, and a bird chirped briskly before flying off toward the rear.
And the sunlight grew a little thinner somehow, and while the snow had darkened compared to before, it now began to shine more intensely.
At that moment, a line of horses came approaching from the opposite direction, their bells jingling.

When the path came alongside a Japanese spindle tree bearing a cluster of red berries, the two groups met.
The horse that had been leading ahead of the brothers momentarily stepped off the path and stood in the snow.
The brothers also waded into snow up to their knees and moved aside from the path.

“That’s quick.”

“That was quick.”
As they exchanged greetings, the people and horses from the opposite direction passed by.

However, the very last person stopped after giving a greeting.
The horse walked on alone for a short distance, then stopped when someone behind called out, “What’s wrong?”
The brothers emerged from the snow onto the path, and the horse that had been standing alongside them also moved onto the path.
However, the people leading the horses began talking about various things.

The brothers had stood waiting for their horse to start moving for a while, but growing too impatient, they finally began walking forward little by little.
After this, once they crossed just one more mountain pass, they would be home; and since it was a little under a ri, and even if the weather had clouded over somewhat, the path continued straight ahead, Ichirou thought it would be no trouble at all.

The man leading the horse cast a sidelong glance at the brothers walking ahead but, seeming intent on catching up shortly, silently continued his conversation.

Narao, seemingly eager to return home soon, started walking briskly ahead, and Ichirou kept glancing back repeatedly; but since all he saw was the horse with its brown neck lowered in the snow and the two people talking—with only occasional glimpses of their large white hand guards—they continued walking onward.

The path gradually became an ascent until it turned into a full slope, so Narao frequently propped his hands on his knees and climbed up while playfully grunting, "Hmm, hmm." Ichirou too followed behind him from the rear, panting heavily,

“Ho there, slope! Ho there, mountain path!” he chanted while moving forward.

However, when Narao finally grew exhausted and whirled around to face this way, coming to a halt, Ichirou suddenly collided into him hard.

“I’m tired,” Ichirou said, panting heavily.

When they looked back the way they had come, the path trailed off into a single thin line; both people and horses had already vanished into the shadow of the hill.

A vast expanse of pure white snow—it appeared oppressively dark and heavy,
(the sky was completely choked with white clouds, and even the sun shone clouded like a large silver disk)—undulated gently, with only brown chestnut and oak trees scattered here and there in groups of three or four—utterly silent and indescribably desolate.

However, when Narao saw a single hawk descending straight down from above their heads toward the opposite side of that hill, he let out a high cry.

“Look, it’s a bird!”
“Whoosh.”

Ichirou was silent.
However, after thinking for a while, he said.

“We gotta cross th’ pass quick-like. Snow’s comin’.”

However, it was just at that moment.
The summit of the pass, dark and gently undulating against the brilliantly white sky, began to come hazily into view.
And before long, tiny dry snow particles began scattering down in light flurries upon the two of them.

“Come on, Narao, hurry up and climb! The snow’s coming.”
“Once we get up there, it’s flat, they say.”
Ichirou said worriedly.

Narao panicked abruptly upon hearing brother’s slightly altered voice.
And then they began climbing in a frantic rush.

“Don’t rush too much.”
“It’s safe, they say—why, there ain’t even a ri left.”
Ichirou also said, panting heavily.
But in reality, both of them could not help but hurry.
They hurried until their vision darkened.
Because they had rushed too much, that pace couldn’t be sustained for long.
The snow had grown utterly fierce, obscuring both path behind and ahead, and both their bodies turned completely white.
And Narao began crying and suddenly clung to Ichirou.

“Let’s go back, Narao. Let’s go back.”
“Let’s go back.”
Ichirou said this anxiously while glancing back at the path they had come, but he could no longer bring himself to consider turning back.
The way back appeared ashen and dark like a gaping hole.
By contrast, the mountain pass ahead shone white and bright, with the slope’s summit now nearly within reach.
If they could just reach that point, the remaining ten cho would stretch flat along the ridge—and when they had come this way before, pheasants had taken flight repeatedly while shrubs bore red and yellow berries.

“Come on, just one more step.”
“Walk.”
“Once we reach the top, the snow’ll stop and the path’ll flatten out.”
“Walk. They say there’s nothin’ to fear, so walk.”
“Besides, that man’s comin’ with the horse too, so don’t cry—this time let’s walk slow.”
Ichirou peered into Narao’s face as he spoke.
Narao wiped his tears and laughed.
Ichirou felt an odd tightness in his chest watching a fleck of snow cling white to Narao’s cheek before melting away.
This time, Ichirou took the lead in climbing.
The path was no longer so steep now, and the snow seemed to have thinned somewhat.
Still, their snow boots were already buried an inch deep.

As they gradually drew nearer to the summit, snow-covered black jagged rocks began appearing frequently along both sides of the path.

The two climbed in silence, step by step, striving to stay composed.
Ichirou flapped the blanket vigorously and brushed snow from his body.

And then, fortunately, they reached the summit of the pass.

“We’re here! We’re here!”
“Alright, from here it’s flat, Narao!”

Ichirou looked back.
Narao, his face bright red and panting heavily, laughed as though finally relieved.
However, between them both, fine snow was falling thickly.

"The horse must've climbed about halfway up the slope by now."
"Let's try calling out."

"Yeah."

"Alright—one, two, three... Hoooo!"

The shout vanished soundlessly into the sky.
No answer came back—no echo returned—only darkness deepening overhead as snow kept swirling relentlessly down.

“Come on, let’s walk. We’ll be down in thirty minutes.”

Ichirou started walking again.

Suddenly, the wind shrieked from above and swept down.
The snow whirled up like powder or smoke, suffocatingly thick, leaving them no chance to catch their breath as it seeped cold through their clothing into their bodies.
The brothers stood with hands pressed to their faces, but when the wind finally subsided and they attempted to resume walking, an even fiercer gale struck.
Its sound resembled a terrifying flute; their bodies bent double, and they could feel snow scurrying sideways past their feet.

The summit of the pass was utterly different from what they had imagined earlier. Narao became too disheartened and tried to cling to Ichirou. He looked back again. However, as soon as the wind died down, Ichirou started walking again, and because the path behind looked utterly dark, Narao could only cry silently as he toddled after his brother and pressed onward.

The snow was already up to the heels of their boots. Here and there, snowdrifts had formed, making it barely passable. Even so, Ichirou resolutely pressed forward. Narao also desperately followed those footsteps. Ichirou kept looking back repeatedly, but even so, Narao tended to lag behind. When the wind howled and the snow burst into a cold mist, Ichirou would pause slightly, and Narao would run in quick steps to cling to his brother.

However, they had not yet even come halfway along that mountain path.
The snowdrifts had grown terribly large, and the two of them kept stumbling frequently.

As Ichirou crossed one of the snowdrifts, the snow proved deeper than expected, and his legs were finally swept out from under him, causing him to fall.
Ichirou, his body and hands completely covered in snow, laughed with a creaking sound as he stood up, but Narao stood behind him and, seeing this, cried bitterly.

“It’s okay. Narao, don’t cry.” Ichirou said as he started walking again. However, this time it was Narao who fell. And having plunged his hands deep into the snow, unable to rise up suddenly, he bowed his head as if in a formal bow and continued crying like that. Ichirou immediately ran back and lifted him up. And brushed the snow off his hands, and then, “Just a little more. Can you walk?” he asked. “Yeah,” Narao said, but his eyes were filled with tears as he stared straight ahead, his mouth twisted.

The snow was falling steadily.
And the wind grew even fiercer.
The two started running again, but they kept stumbling—Ichirou fell, Narao fell—and now, whether they were even still walking on the path or not, a large black rock that hadn’t been there before abruptly came into view beside them.

The wind came again.

The snow was like dust, like sand, like smoke; Narao began coughing violently.

That place was no longer a path.
The two brothers collided with a large black rock.

Ichirou looked back.
The path the two had come through lay carved into the snow as if it had been a trench.

“We took the wrong path.”
“We have to go back.”

Ichirou said and suddenly tried to take Narao’s hand to start running, but after just one step, he immediately fell into the snow.

Narao burst into tears.

“Don’t cry.”
“Once the snow lets up, we’ll stay right here. Don’t cry.”
Ichirou firmly embraced Narao, stood under the rock, and said.

The wind now blew as if mad.
Without even a moment to breathe, the two were steadily buried in snow.

“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know.”
Narao cried and said.
The wind carried away his voice as if tearing it to shreds.
Ichirou spread out the blanket and, still in his mantle, embraced Narao.

By this time, Ichirou had truly come to believe that both of them would die from the snow and wind.
Various things began to appear as if they were revolving lanterns.
During New Year’s, when the two had been invited to the main family house and everyone was eating mandarin oranges, Narao quickly ate one and then took another, so Ichirou had glared at him disapprovingly—and now Narao’s small frostbitten red hands from that time appeared vividly before Ichirou.
Breathing was so painful it felt like he was drinking some violently churning poison.
Ichirou had ended up sitting in the snow.
And then he hugged Narao even more tightly.

Three: The Land of Pale Light

But but—all of that was entirely entirely like a dream.
Before long, even the cold, needle-like snowflakes had somehow grown lukewarm, Narao was no longer by his side, and Ichirou found himself walking alone through a dim, bush-like place.

The place was blurred in yellow, with no way to discern whether it was night, day, or evening; mugwort-like plants grew thickly everywhere, and here and there black bush-like things seemed to breathe as if they were living creatures.

Ichirou looked at his own body.
Had such a thing been there all along? Startled to find only a single mouse-colored cloth wrapped around his body, when he looked at his feet, they were bare, and deep wounds—apparently from having walked so far—were oozing blood.
Moreover, his chest and stomach were terribly exhausted, and he felt as though his body might split in two at any moment.
Ichirou suddenly became frightened and burst into loud sobs.

But what country could that place have been?
It was utterly still, with no reply—even the sky seemed hollow, and the longer he looked, the stranger and more terrifying it felt.
Moreover, suddenly, his feet began to burn with pain.

“Narao.”
Suddenly, Ichirou remembered.

“Narao!”
Ichirou shouted through his tears toward the dim yellow sky.

There was silence, with no response at all.
Ichirou could bear it no longer and, forgetting even the pain in his feet, began to run.
Then suddenly a wind rose, and the cloth clinging to Ichirou’s body streamed straight back. As he ran barefoot, weeping, he pictured in his mind that tattered cloth fluttering behind him in the wind—growing even more terrified and unbearably sad.

“Narao!”
Ichirou shouted again.

“Brother...”

A faint, faint voice could be heard from far, far away.
Ichirou ran in that direction.
And then, crying, he shouted “Narao! Narao!” over and over.
The replies were sometimes faintly heard, and other times it was unclear whether there had been any reply at all.

Ichirou’s feet turned completely bright red.
And he could no longer even tell whether it hurt; the blood glowed an eerie blue.

Ichirou ran and ran.

And then, ahead, he saw a child flickering on and off like a candle flame about to be extinguished by the wind.

That was Narao, covering his face with both hands and crying.
Ichirou rushed over to his side.
And then suddenly, his legs gave way and he collapsed.
Then, mustering all his strength, he tried to get up and embrace Narao.
Narao kept flickering on and off, but gradually it grew so rapid that the transitions became indistinguishable, and Ichirou held him firmly.

“Narao, where have we come to, I wonder.”
Ichirou said, as if in a dream, crying and stroking Narao’s head.
He couldn’t tell whether that voice was his own or if he was hearing someone else’s voice in a dream.

“We died,” Narao said and began crying violently.

Ichirou looked at Narao’s feet.
As expected—barefoot—his feet were terribly wounded.

“You don’t have to cry.”
Ichirou said while looking around.
Far in the distance, only a hazy white light was visible, and everything was silent with nothing to be heard.

“Let’s go check out that bright spot over there.”
“There must be a house there—can you walk?”

Ichirou said.

“Yeah. Do you think Mom’s there?”

“Of course she is!
“She’s definitely there.”
“Let’s go.”

Ichirou took the lead and walked.
The sky was yellow and dimly dark, and it looked as though long hands might emerge from there at any moment.

Feet ached unbearably.

“Let’s hurry to get there.
If we can just reach that spot, it’ll be all right.”
Ichirou spoke while enduring the excruciating pain in his feet that felt like crackling white flames were burning.
Yet Narao could no longer bear it and collapsed to the ground weeping.

“Come on, hold tight to Brother.
I’ll run us there.”
Ichirou gritted his teeth against the pain and lifted Narao onto his shoulder.
Then he ran toward the hazy white light ahead, enduring agony that threatened to tear his body apart.
Even so, he kept collapsing again and again.
Each time he fell, he desperately forced himself back up.

When he suddenly looked back, the way they had come was now hidden behind a hazy gray mist-like veil, and beyond it, something pale red seemed to be fluttering as it raced away at full speed.

Ichirou felt so terrified his breath seemed to stop.
Even so, he endured it, forced himself upright, and hoisted Narao onto his shoulder again.
Narao lay limp as though unconscious.
Ichirou wept at his ear,

“Narao, hold on! Narao—don’t you know me?”
“Narao,” he cried with all his strength.

Narao faintly—ever so faintly—managed to open his eyes, but no trace of black remained in them.
Ichirou poured out every shred of strength he had left and ran toward the dim light ahead with Narao on his shoulder—his mind ablaze with white flames flickering across his vision.
He couldn’t tell if his legs still moved; his body felt shattered by some massive boulder, scattering like blue-glowing dust. Time after time he fell, only to drag Narao up again—clutching him tight through tears—then staggering onward as if through a dream.
Yet somehow Ichirou reached that pale-lit place he’d aimed for.
But it was no sanctuary.
Instead he froze rigid, as though turned to ice.
Before them stretched a valley-like hollow where children shuffled left to right in an unspeakably pitiful line.
Some wore tattered gray rags; others only threadbare cloaks.
Gaunt faces with hollow eyes; small ones with rust-red hair; bony knees buckling as they ran—all hunched forward, trembling too fearfully to glance aside, sighing deep silent sobs as they were herded onward.
Every child bore feet as wounded as Ichirou’s.
And worst of all—among them strode a hulking red-faced figure in jagged gray-thorned armor, hair like raging fire and wild crimson eyes, swinging a thick whip.
Each step made the ground creak and groan.
Ichirou stood voiceless with terror.

In the line was a child about Narao’s age with curly hair, but apparently in too much pain from their feet, they finally staggered and stumbled. And then, about to collapse, they unintentionally cried— “It hurts. Mom.” They seemed to cry out “Mom.” Then, that terrifying being who had been walking ahead just moments before stopped and turned toward them. The child staggered backward, raising their hands in terror to flee, but instantly the demon’s mouth twitched—the whip cracked—and they collapsed soundlessly, writhing. The children who came after saw this but merely staggered unsteadily out of the way, and not a single one uttered a word. The fallen child writhed for a while, but even so, eventually stood up unsteadily as if having forgotten the earlier pain in their feet.

Ichirou stood frozen, unable to go forward or turn back.
Suddenly, Narao opened his eyes.

“Father!” he cried out loudly and began to weep.
Then, just then, one of those terrifying beings passing below turned its twisted red eyes this way.
Ichirou felt as though his breath would stop.
The terrifying being raised its whip and shouted from below.

“What are you doing there?”
“Come down here.”

Ichirou felt as though he were being sucked into those red eyes and staggered unsteadily two or three steps in that direction, but finally managed to stop himself and clutched Narao tightly.
The terrifying being twitched its cheeks, bared its teeth in a roar-like scream, and climbed toward Ichirou.
And before they knew it, Ichirou and Narao had been caught and were now within the line.
But what was most heartbreaking for Ichirou was how Narao had become able to walk—barefoot on that painful ground—staggering unsteadily ahead of him.
Ichirou, being driven along with everyone while walking, called Narao’s name repeatedly in a low voice.
However, Narao seemed to have already forgotten about Ichirou.
He merely kept walking desperately, staggering from the pain in his feet while raising his hands behind him as if frightened time and again.
It was at this moment that Ichirou first realized that those pursuing them were creatures called demons, and he wondered what wrong Narao could have done to endure such suffering.
At that moment, Narao finally tripped over a red-ridged stone and fell.
The demon’s whip fell as if to slice his small body.
Reeling, Ichirou clung to the demon’s hand.

“Please strike me instead. Narao hasn’t done anything wrong at all.”

The demon looked startled at Ichirou, its mouth twitching spasmodically before it boomed:
“Your sins aren’t confined to this time alone. Walk!”

Its teeth glinted like steel blades.

Ichirou’s back tingled as his surroundings whirled in a bluish haze.
Cold sweat erupted from every pore of his body.

In this way, the brothers were driven onward.
But it seemed they gradually grew accustomed, and somehow both began to feel a little easier.
They saw the injured feet and collapsing bodies of the others as if in a dream off to the side.
Suddenly, the surroundings grew dim and hazy.
Then everything turned completely black.
Only the pale line of children being driven onward floated visible within the darkness.

As his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, Ichirou saw many black figures sitting motionless within a vast field there. A faint blue light also existed. They were all completely covered in long black hair over their entire bodies, with only their pale white limbs faintly visible. One of them twitched slightly for some reason—and suddenly let out a scream as if its body were being torn apart, writhing violently. Before long that voice too disappeared, and he saw it become like a clod of mud and roll away. When his eyes had gradually adjusted, he realized the creatures in that darkness were covered in hair as sharp as sword blades—if they moved even slightly, their bodies would be cut.

After walking through it for a long while, the surroundings grew slightly brighter again.
And the ground was crimson red.
The children ahead suddenly began wailing and shrieking violently.
The line halted.
The cracks of whips and demons’ enraged shouts echoed like hail and thunder.
Right before Ichirou, Narao staggered unsteadily.
Indeed, that section of the field was formed of small agate-like fragments that sliced the feet of those who walked upon them.

The demon wore large iron boots.
With each step it took, the agate crunched and shattered.
From around Ichirou as well, a great number of screams arose.
Narao also cried.

“Where are we going?”
“Why do we have to go through something so awful?”

Narao asked the neighboring child.

“I don’t know.”
“It hurts.”
“It hurts… Oh, it hurts…”
“Mom!”
The child shook their head violently and began to cry.

“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“You lot brought this upon yourselves.”
“Where do you think you’re even headed?”

Behind them, the demon roared and cracked its whip again.

The grasses of the field gradually grew coarser and sharper.
The children ahead fell countless times, weakly rising again with their legs and bodies wounded, while the screams and whip cracks alone seemed enough to make one collapse.

Narao suddenly clung to Ichirou as if remembering something and wept.

“Walk!”
The demon shouted.
The whip struck the arm of Ichirou, who was holding Narao.
Ichirou’s arm went numb and unresponsive, twitching spasmodically.
Because Narao was still clinging to him, the demon raised the whip again.

“Please forgive Narao.”
“Please forgive Narao.”
Ichirou cried out.

“Walk!” As the whip cracked again, Ichirou shielded Narao with both arms as much as he could. While shielding his brother, Ichirou sensed from somewhere—phrases resembling “Nyorai Juryahon Chapter Sixteen” reaching him like a faint wind or scent. Then he somehow felt as if the surroundings had grown less oppressive. “Nyorai Juryahon,” he murmured softly, repeating the phrase to himself. At this, the demon walking ahead stopped and looked back at Ichirou with a puzzled expression. The line came to a halt. For some reason, the whip cracks and screams ceased. Everything fell utterly silent. When they regained awareness, the edge of that faintly red agate field had turned a hazy gold, through which a magnificent large figure strode straight toward them. Somehow, everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

IV. Barefoot of Light

That person’s feet appeared to shine white.
That person was approaching with truly swift and truly straight strides.
The pure white feet glowed twice, and already that person had come near Ichirou.

Ichirou felt as though he were being dazzled and couldn’t raise his face.
That person was barefoot.
They were large bare feet that shone white like seashells.
The flesh at the heels glowed and hung down to the ground.
They were large, pure white bare feet.
Yet those soft bare feet, even as they stepped on razor-sharp agate fragments and trod upon blazing red flames, were not injured in the slightest nor burned at all.
Even the ground’s thorns did not snap.

“There’s nothing to fear here.”
With a faint, faint smile, the Barefoot of Light said to everyone.
Those large eyes gazed piercingly at them all like blue lotus petals.
Everyone pressed their hands together for reasons they couldn’t explain.

“There’s nothing to fear.”
“Your sins, when measured against the great power of virtue enveloping this world, are but a dewdrop on a thistle’s thorn beneath sunlight.”
“There’s absolutely nothing to fear.”

Before they knew it, everyone had formed a ring around that person and gathered.
The demons, who until just moments ago had appeared so terrifying, now all stood behind everyone with their large hands pressed together and heads bowed low, perfectly obedient.

That person calmly looked around at everyone.

“Everyone has suffered terrible wounds.”
“That is because you all hurt yourselves.”
“But that’s nothing at all.”
That person stroked Narao’s head with a large, pure white hand.
Narao and Ichirou both heard the faint fragrance of blossoms from that hand.
And everyone’s bodily wounds had completely healed.

One of the demons suddenly began to weep and knelt before that person.
Then he lowered his head to the jagged agate ground and reverently received the glowing foot with his hands for a moment.

That person smiled faintly again.
Then a great golden light formed a circular ring around that person’s head.
That person said:

“Here the ground is made of swords.”
“With these you tear your legs and bodies.”
“That is what you believe—yet this ground is perfectly flat.”
“Now behold.”

That person bent down slightly and with their pure white hand drew a single circle on the ground.
Everyone rubbed their eyes.
Then they doubted their ears.
The sorrowful ground that until now had been made of red agate thorns and spewed dark tongues of flame transformed into a perfectly flat, waveless deep-blue lake surface. This lake stretched endlessly until its farthest reaches became many beautiful stripes of malachite color, and above it, splendid trees and buildings—like a mirage yet far more distinct—hovered motionless.
Those buildings were far in the distance yet so tall one had to crane their neck to see them—roofs gleaming blue and white; banners of rainbow hues hanging down; bridges with pearl-like shining railings arching through the air from one building to another; tall towers adorned with countless bells and ornamental nets, their pinnacle poles standing straight and high into the sky.
Those buildings stood towering in perfect silence, and their shadows fell upon the water’s surface with startling clarity.

And numerous trees stood there.
It could only be thought of as exquisite jewelwork.
There were also deep blue trees shaped like han-no-ki.
There were also trees resembling willows bearing small fruits like platinum.
All of their leaves flickered and trembled, colliding with one another to create a subtle sound.

Then from the sky came faint sounds of various instruments descending together with motes of light in all colors.
What astonished them even more was how splendid people filled every corner here and there.
Some people were flying through the air like birds, their silver-decorated cords trailing straight behind without a single ripple.
Everything was filled with a fragrance like that of a summer dawn.
Yet Ichirou suddenly realized they too were standing on that deep blue, perfectly flat lake surface.
But was it truly a lake?
No—it wasn’t water.
It was hard.
It was cold; it was smooth.
It was truly a slab of blue gemstone.
Not a slab—it remained ground after all.
It shone so smoothly that it had looked like a lake.

Ichirou looked at the person from earlier.
That person appeared completely different from before.
Adorned with splendid jeweled necklaces and crowned with a golden halo, [that person] stood behind everyone with a faint smile.
That person was more splendid than any of the people visible there.
Holding beautiful flower plates that seemed woven from gold and rubies, the celestial beings passed over Ichirou and the others’ heads, scattering large blue and golden petals as they went.

The petals slowly, slowly descended through the sky.

The people who had been together in the dim field earlier had now all transformed splendidly. Ichirou looked at Narao. Narao was also wearing a golden kimono and jeweled necklaces. Then he looked at himself. The wounds on Ichirou’s legs and elsewhere had completely healed, now shining pure white, and his hands were dazzling with a pleasant fragrance.

Everyone was simply raising voices of joy for a while, but then one child spoke.

“This place is absolutely wonderful! I wonder if that over there’s a museum.”

The giant glowing person smiled and replied.

“Indeed.
“There is also a museum.”
“All events from every world are gathered here.”

There, the children suddenly began asking all sorts of questions.
One said.

“There is also a library here.”

“I want to read more of Andersen’s stories and stuff like that.”

One said.

“In this playground here, you can do anything—throw a ball as far as you like, and it’ll surely go on forever.”

A very small child said.

"I want some chocolate."

The giant person calmly answered.

"There are plenty of books here."
"There are also those where many small books are contained within a single book."
"There are also books where all books are contained within tiny, tiny-shaped books; you may read them as much as you like."
"There is a playground too—those who learn to run here can pass through fire itself."
"There is also chocolate."
"The chocolate here is exceptionally good."
"I’ll give you some."
The giant person briefly looked toward the sky.
A single celestial being descended straight down, holding up a splendid bowl adorned with a pattern of assembled yellow triangles.
And descended onto the blue ground, then reverently knelt before the giant person and offered up the bowl.

“Here, eat this.”
The giant person handed one piece to Narao while addressing everyone.
Everyone had somehow each come to hold one of those magnificent sweets.
From the instant they took even a small taste, coolness suffused their entire bodies.
At their tongues’ tips, blue firefly-like hues, orange flames, and beautiful floral patterns flickered into view.
When they finished eating, their bodies went rigid.
After a time, an indescribably sweet fragrance rose hazily from their whole forms.

“Where could our mother be?”
Narao asked Ichirou, as if suddenly remembering.

Then the giant person turned toward them and, while gently stroking Narao’s head, said.

“Soon I will show you your mother who stands before you.”
“You must now attend school here.”
“Then you must part with your brother for a time.”
“Because your brother must return to your mother’s side once more.”

That person said to Ichirou:

“You must return once more to that original world.
You are a truly upright child.
You did well not abandoning your brother in that thorny field.
The feet that were torn back then can now walk barefoot through the wicked forest of swords.
Never let go of your current state of mind.
Many people from here have gone to your country.
Search well and learn the true path.”

The person stroked Ichirou’s head.
Ichirou simply stood there, hands clasped and eyes lowered.
And then Ichirou heard a beautiful voice singing a song with all its might in the sky.
The voice of the song gradually changed, and all the scenery grew distant as if shrouded in mist.
A single tree stood shining white beyond the mist; Narao, now radiant and splendid as if made of light himself, stood there with a faint smile that seemed to want to say something, extending a hand slightly toward this side.

V. Mountain Pass

When Ichirou thought he had shouted “Narao,” he suddenly saw something new and pure white.
It was snow.
Then he saw a dazzling blue sky spread above him.

“Breathe!”
“Open your eyes!”
The red-bearded man from the neighboring house was bent over Ichirou’s head, urgently trying to rouse him.
And Ichirou opened his eyes clearly.
He lay buried in the snow, clutching Narao tightly.
In the blinding blue sky, the villagers’ faces, red blankets, and black coats floated vividly, gazing down at Ichirou.

“The younger brother ain’t here.”
“The brother!”

The hunter in a dog fur coat shouted loudly.
The neighbor grabbed Narao’s arm and examined it.
Ichirou also looked.

“The brother ain’t here.”
“Quick, build a fire!” the neighbor shouted.

“Building a fire ain’t possible here.”
“Lay him in the snow.”
“Lay him down.”

The hunter shouted.
Ichirou, while being helped up and roused, looked once at Narao's face.
His face was apple-red, his lips faintly smiling just as when he had parted with Ichirou in the Land of Light.
But his eyes were closed, his breath had ceased, and his hands and chest had turned cold as ice.