Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part One: Red Parrot

1. Ginkgo Tree

Once, in a certain place, there lived a lone beggar boy. This boy was a fool by birth—truly alone in the world with neither parents nor siblings. Summer or winter, he wore nothing but tattered robes and had no fixed place to sleep. Yet he possessed far more names than any ordinary person.

The first of those names was White-Haired Boy. This was because the boy’s head shone white as snow. The second was Mannen Kozo, for while no one knew when this boy had first appeared—though it must have been so long ago that not even the oldest elder could recall a time without him—he always retained the youthful countenance of a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old. And as for why he was called Niko-Niko Kozo, it was because this boy was always grinning. The next name, Mute Boy, was because there had never been a single instance where this boy had spoken. The name King Boy was because this beggar never bowed when receiving things, nor had he ever once asked anyone to give him anything. The name Charity Boy was because this boy never hoarded leftovers from what he received, instead freely giving them to other pitiful souls without hesitation, and because he would help others without regard for his own life whenever he heard of their dangers or troubles. Beyond these were Mystery Boy, Immortal Boy, Disease-Free Boy, Wandering Boy, Slowpoke Boy, Utter Fool Boy—if one were to count them all, there would be no end. All the people either cherished and respected this White-Haired Boy or found him eerie and feared him.

However, the White-Haired Boy paid no mind to such things, always grinning leisurely as he wandered through various villages and cities, receiving things and helping people. One day, the White-Haired Boy came to the capital where the king resided and was dozing off in the shade of a large ginkgo tree standing by a river that flowed along the city's outskirts. Just then, he suddenly heard a shrill, earsplitting shriek. When he opened his eyes and looked, right before him in the river, a beautiful young lady from somewhere had fallen in while clutching a book, now floating up and sinking down as she drifted away.

Upon seeing this, the White-Haired Boy immediately stripped naked, jumped into the river, and rescued the girl. Soon after, her parents—having rushed there upon being alerted by others—saw their daughter’s face revived through his rescue and wept tears of joy as they tightly embraced her over her soaked garments. They immediately loaded their daughter and the White-Haired Boy into a hired carriage and took them to their home—a house so grand and beautiful that one might think it a king’s residence. Merely glimpsing the gold, silver, and jeweled ornaments adorning the robes of the daughter’s siblings and servants who came to greet them would have been enough to dazzle any ordinary person. Yet the White-Haired Boy showed not the slightest surprise. Still grinning as ever, he was leisurely guided by the girl’s parents to an inner room and seated himself upon a splendid silk-upholstered chair placed there.

Here, the household members lined up before the White-Haired Boy with their daughter—now changed into fresh robes—at their head to express their gratitude, but the White-Haired Boy gave no reply. He was still just grinning and looking around at everyone’s faces. Once the household members who had finished expressing their gratitude parted to both sides and lined up with the White-Haired Boy at their center, a great many servants soon entered from the opposite entrance, each holding crystal bowls heaped with jewels and coins, which they then lined up in a row before his eyes. At that moment, the girl’s father stepped forward before the White-Haired Boy, bowed deeply and courteously, and said:

“This does not even amount to a ten-thousandth part of repaying your kindness, but please accept it as a mere token.” “If you would be so kind as to accept it, that would be our greatest happiness.” The White-Haired Boy scrutinized those things. But he neither made any particularly grateful expression nor said he didn’t want them; he simply kept grinning as he looked around at the faces of the servants, the parents, and the daughter. The girl’s father slapped his knee upon seeing this and,

“Ah, I see. This was my mistake.” “It appears you have never laid eyes upon such things before.” “In that case, allow me to present something that will be of more immediate use to you.” As he said this, he signaled to his retainers with a glance. The many servants, understanding his intent, withdrew and soon returned with light, warm garments, beautiful hats, and delicious-looking food piled mountain-high, stacking them before the White-Haired Boy’s eyes. Yet the White-Haired Boy remained grinning as ever—though it seemed his earlier nap had still been insufficient—narrowing his eyes as he wore a drowsy expression.

The crowd could only think what a fool he was not to accept such precious gifts. They were utterly exasperated, thinking that with all those treasures, he could have become a renowned wealthy man even in the capital. The girl’s parents were also at a loss and tried to find some way to show their gratitude, but they could think of no other means beyond this. Finally left with no alternative, they declared that anyone who could devise a way to express gratitude that would please Mr. White-Haired Boy would receive all the gifts of gratitude assembled here. But given that the one they were dealing with was a fool, it was all for nothing.

Even if they said, “We will support you in this house for your entire lifetime and let you indulge in every luxury to your heart’s content,” or “We will have you change daily into robes made by the capital’s foremost tailor, serve you its most exquisite cuisine, and show you this city’s finest spectacles,” or suggested, “Let us go mountain hunting,” or “We will take you boating,” he displayed not the slightest hint of delight. Rather, blinking his large eyes, he wore an expression that seemed far more grateful for being led to some sunlit spot and granted an afternoon nap.

Just as everyone had finally reached their limit and lost all patience, the daughter—who had been sitting in a chair from the start watching this scene while sighing repeatedly and lost in thought—now rose slowly and said in a clear voice:

“Father, Mother. “No matter how precious a gift we offer or how wondrous a spectacle we show him, I believe Lord White-Haired Boy shall never take delight. “I know the reason full well.” “What? Are you claiming gratitude shown to Mr. White-Haired Boy proves futile?” “What reason could there be?”

The parents asked their daughter in unison. The many people nearby were also astonished, all at once staring at the daughter’s face. When everyone turned to look at her, the daughter faltered shyly, but finally resolved herself and— “The reason for that is fully written within this book.” As she said this, she took out a single black-covered book from her bosom. “If one reads what is written in this book, Lord White-Haired Boy is the king of a mysterious country that the people of this land have never before seen or heard of. Therefore, no matter how precious an item you offer him in this world or how entertaining a sight you show him, I believe there is no concern that he will take pleasure in it. Moreover, not only that—the fact that Lord White-Haired Boy deigned to save my life had been predetermined long ago. As proof, this book clearly writes of everything from my falling into the water to being rescued. It was certainly not out of any base intent to receive gratitude that he deigned to save me.”

she declared resolutely. Not only her parents, but the entire crowd was astonished to the core by the daughter’s mysterious words. For a time, they blankly compared her face with the White-Haired Boy’s, but after all, it was such an unbelievable story—so utterly lacking in plausibility—that Father shook his head side to side while—

“Now, daughter—are you truly serious about saying such things? I simply cannot accept your story as true. Where on earth did you obtain such a strange book?” he pressed frantically. The daughter replied with utmost seriousness and composure— “No, I am not the least bit mad. And furthermore, I do not harbor the slightest doubt regarding what is written in this book. Father, Mother—anyone at all—if you would but once deign to hear the tales inscribed here, you would without fail come to recognize their truthfulness, just as I have. For within this book lies every event that has transpired thus far concerning Lord White-Haired Boy and myself—nay, even matters yet to unfold—all recorded without error and in meticulous detail, I assure you. Therefore, should you but read this volume, you shall come to fully comprehend how I came into its possession as well. Moreover, what shall become of Lord White-Haired Boy and myself henceforth—this too you will come to grasp in due course.”

The more they heard of the mysterious tale, the more astonished they became—astonishment compounding astonishment—until their gaping mouths simply would not close.

In the end, her parents too found themselves at a complete loss; they resolved that at any rate, they would first have their daughter read through this entire book aloud, listen to its contents, and then determine whether it was true or false. When the daughter, having received her parents' permission, began reading the book, everyone in the room fell as silent as still water. Amidst them all, only the White-Haired Boy blinked his large eyes in utter bewilderment, entranced by her beautiful voice—but soon growing weary of listening, he began dozing off once more.

The princess paid no heed to this and spread open the book to begin reading aloud in a resonant voice. The story went like this.

II. The Black-Covered Book

What is written in this book is the world's most mysterious and fascinating tale—a story that befell the world's cleverest person and the world's greatest fool.

No one who reads this story will truly act upon the matters written within. Everyone would think such foolishly bizarre things could not possibly exist in this world. Only the world’s cleverest person and the world’s greatest fool read this as truth. At present, there are only two such people in this entire world. One is the ageless beggar White-Haired Boy—the Smiling King—and the other is Princess Mirume, youngest daughter of Duke Miruro, this nation’s Prime Minister. And thus, the owners of this book—those who read its contents from beginning to end as truth—are none but these two: the White-Haired Boy and Princess Mirume.

In this book, whatever its owner wishes to know about their own or others' circumstances, or whatever they wish to inform or tell others, freely manifests as illustrations and text.

Now, Princess Mirume wished to read to her parents and the others the circumstances of how she had obtained this book, so this story had to first begin with Princess Mirume's own background. Princess Mirume, who now read this book aloud in a resonant voice as previously mentioned, was—as the youngest daughter of Duke Miruro, the wealthiest individual in this nation and holder of its most esteemed position and status—a girl who had just turned fourteen that year; born with a love for stories, she had developed a habit of requiring one new tale each day to fall asleep at night. The princess's parents had bought her one new storybook each day for this reason, but now those books had filled five entire warehouses to capacity. No matter which bookstore one searched now, there seemed to be not a single volume of new storybooks different from before.

However, here lay one troublesome problem: Princess Mirume possessed an extraordinarily keen memory, retaining even the oldest stories she had heard with perfect clarity and without the slightest error. Upon hearing just the first few words, she would immediately recall the entire tale. Thus, it was impossible to read her the same old books twice. And yet, with not a single new story left anywhere in the world, the princess—longing and longing each day and night for fresh tales—could no longer sleep peacefully at night.

However, if the princess were to tell her parents about this matter, she thought it would only cause them worry. So every night, she deliberately pretended to sleep soundly and endured, all the while thinking of nothing but whether there might be some way to contrive hearing new and unusual stories.

However, one morning came when—

The princess—having not slept a wink all night again last night—rose in a daze, washed her face, ate her meal, and absentmindedly stepped out onto the veranda to become entranced by the garden’s scenery. It was precisely mid-autumn, and in the garden, autumn flowers wet with dew bloomed so profusely they dazzled the eye—yet the princess once again found herself thinking of stories. *Ah, if only those flowers were all benevolent spirits or such, each one crafting an amusing tale—or if those birds chirping in yonder grove were heavenly beings who might flit about everywhere and recount what they’ve seen—* she was musing alone in such idle fancies when suddenly, right by her ear—

“Princess Mirume, Princess Mirume.” Startled by the strange voice calling her name, she whirled around. Upon looking, she saw it was none other than a single red parrot that her elder brother Miruya had entrusted to her just yesterday—saying he would present it to the king tomorrow and asking her to care for it until then—a parrot Miruya’s retainer had captured from the Eastern Mountain. When Princess Mirume saw this, she formed a lonely smile— “Oh, so it was you who called me just now?” “Oh, what a clever bird you are!” “You’ve already learned my name.” “It must just be imitating Father or Mother.” “You really are remarkable, aren’t you?”

As she said this, she approached the cage. However, the parrot—perched upon the crossbar at the cage’s center—continued calling Princess Mirume’s name— “Princess Mirume, Princess Mirume, Princess Mirume”

Upon hearing this, Princess Mirume laughed even more— "Oh, what a strange parrot you are! I get it, I get it! I'm right here, aren't I? And do you have some business with me, then?"

she asked.

Then, wondrously, the Red Parrot instantly flew to the golden mesh before the princess and, staring into her face with crimson eyes— “Princess Mirume, Princess Mirume, I have business with you. I have a story—an interesting story.” called out. When Princess Mirume heard this, she turned deathly pale in astonishment. That such a bird would speak like a human—and to herself, no less—was something she had never even dreamed of, so it was only natural for her to be suspicious. So overwhelmed that she could no longer speak, she stared vacantly at the parrot—but the Red Parrot kept shouting undeterred—

“Do not doubt. Do not be alarmed, Princess Mirume, Princess Mirume.” “Your wish has now been granted.” She wanted to hear a new story. “Your wish has now been granted.” “Go, go—go to the town.” “Go to the town all alone.”

"In this vast town lived the one who had endured longest. 'Ask the white-haired person. Ask the person with a strange appearance. That person's life story...' Astute Princess Mirume. Clever Princess Mirume. 'Do not doubt; do not suspect—it is no dream; it is real. Do not doubt; do not suspect—it is no dream; it is real!' Princess Mirume finally regained her senses at this moment and, feeling as though awakening from a dream, listened intently to the parrot's words. And so, in her heart—even as she felt astonishment and suspicion toward this mysterious bird's words—she came to understand that what it spoke was neither falsehood nor nonsense of any kind, but rather an ingenious method perfectly suited for hearing truly rare tales, and she was deeply impressed. Of course—if she were to find in this town the longest-lived white-haired old man with the most unusual visage and have him recount his life story, she would undoubtedly hear a fascinating new tale. Even if she couldn't find such a person, life stories would differ for every single soul she might catch—ten out of ten people—so there was no fear of hearing the same tale twice. And upon conceiving this idea—that as thanks, poor people would surely gladly tell their stories if she simply spent enough money to buy a single book—Princess Mirume could no longer endure even a single second's delay. Having completely forgotten about the parrot before her eyes, she immediately returned to her room—and no sooner had she placed a hat upon her head than she left the house all alone and dashed to the bustling bridge approach where people were coming and going."

She stood there waiting for a short while when—as fortune would have it—the White-Haired Boy with precisely the bizarre appearance she sought came along. Princess Mirume was overjoyed as if ascending to heaven; she abruptly ran up to him, clung to his sleeve while producing a ten-yen gold coin, and begged him to tell his life story. The White-Haired Boy wore three tall hats stacked high, covering down to his ears. And on his body he wore a red shirt, with hairy bare feet protruding from beneath a blue waist wrap into ankle-high old boots; his ruddy face bore a bushy white beard as he exhaled alcohol-tinged breath, glazed-over eyes staring at the princess with an air of bewilderment. However, when he heard the outline of her request from Princess Mirume, he opened his mouth wide and burst into laughter—

“Ah ha….” “I see.” “So you came all the way here to buy a story?” “I see—that’s a clever idea.” “And I must say, catching me first was quite the clever move.” “In all the world, there’s not another soul with a life story as fascinating and delightful as mine.” “Now I’ll tell you, so listen well.” “Ever since I was little, I’ve loved alcohol—couldn’t stop no matter what.” “Even when my parents died, I didn’t care and drank.” “Even if my wife and children died, I still drank.” “Even if my house caught fire, I’d abandon it and keep drinking.” “When I said I was happy, I drank.” “When I said I was sad, I’d drink.” “I drank yesterday too.” “Today, I drank right up until just now.” “Tomorrow and the day after… I’ll probably keep drinking till I die.” “And from now on too, I plan to go drink with your money.” “And that’s the end… What a happy ending, eh?” “Ha ha ha!” “No, thank you.”

“Goodbye.”

With that, he snatched the ten-yen gold coin from the princess's palm and staggered away unsteadily.

The princess thought it was a highly amusing story, but it was simply too short to be gratifying. So this time, determined to have someone tell her as long and detailed a story as possible, she approached an old woman who happened by after the drunkard, explained the situation, and begged to hear her life story. This old woman, too, had a bizarre appearance: her head bore wildly disheveled white hair beneath a straw-woven hat, while her body wore a long grain sack with holes cut for her arms and neck. On her feet, one foot sported a slipper, the other a knee-high boot, and she hunched so low over a foot-long staff that she seemed to cling to the ground. And just like the previous drunkard—seemingly startled by Princess Mirume’s abrupt and peculiar request—she gripped her staff to straighten her hunched back, widened her clouded eyes into perfect circles to stare at the princess’s face, then with a smirk took the gold coin and tried to trudge off using her staff as before. The princess panicked and clung to her sleeve—

“Hey, Granny.” “What about your story?” “Please do tell me your life story.”

“I have nothing to tell.” “I have merely lived a long, dull life for thirty thousand days, that is all.” “My, thirty thousand days… That’s eighty years, isn’t it? But surely something unusual happened during that time?” “Ah. Oh right, there were exactly two.” “What kind of things were they?” “The first was that I have had the experience of seeing a story-obsessed lunatic for the first time since I was born.” “Oh. When and where?”

“Now, here.” “My! Then what about the other one?” “The second was that I have held a ten-yen gold coin in this hand for the first time since I was born. Thank you very much indeed. Goodbye.”

With that, she brushed off her sleeve and went off somewhere. In this manner, everyone she encountered treated her as a lunatic or fool, mocked her mercilessly, and took her coins away, so within less than an hour, the princess’s purse became completely empty. Among them, the cruelest ones—instead of taking money or anything—

“I’m busy right now.” “I can’t waste time humoring such a fool.” There were also those who snapped harshly at her and left.

The princess had become utterly disheartened, and in such a state, she would never be able to hear an interesting or remarkable story in her entire life. She wondered if his Red Parrot had lied. If she truly could never hear a single new story from now on—and thus would lose all joy for the rest of her life—it might be far better to die.

Alas, how pitiful things had become. Things had turned out utterly trivial. Sobbing quietly, she walked aimlessly toward the riverside at the town's outskirts until she came upon a large ginkgo tree standing there. Sitting down at its roots, she tried to rest her weary legs. Yet before she could even sit down, the princess discovered something unexpected at the base of that Ginkgo Tree and was so overjoyed she nearly leapt into the air. At that moment, what the princess discovered was this mysterious storybook titled *White-Haired Boy*.

The princess immediately found this book resting at the base of the ginkgo tree coiled like a dragon and thought it must be one she had never seen before, instinctively trying to rush over and grab it—but then jolted to her senses and stopped short. Seeing how quite old and worn the book appeared, she concluded someone must have left it behind here. Realizing that opening it without permission would amount to theft, she withdrew her outstretched hand.

The princess, despite finally encountering such a precious find, couldn’t even lay a finger on it and had to wait for its owner to arrive—a frustration so intense she could hardly bear it. If only the owner would come quickly. If only they would lend her this book, she thought, standing there stamping her feet in agitation. However, for some reason, not a single soul resembling the owner appeared. Instead, ginkgo leaves fluttered down from the sky like golden snow, gradually piling higher around the book until its black cover began vanishing from sight—now just one or two leaves away from being completely buried. The princess, who had restrained herself as much as possible until then, could endure no longer. Unconsciously, she dashed forward, frantically brushed aside the leaves, snatched up the book, and feverishly flipped open its cover.

Then the princess found something so wondrous she thought it might be a dream. At the very beginning, written in clear characters, were the words "White-Haired Boy and Princess Mirume," neatly arranged in two lines. The princess had long heard all about the White-Haired Boy in detail from her attendant, but seeing her own name now neatly written alongside his right before her eyes, she couldn't help but think it must be someone's prank.

However, when the princess hurriedly opened the next page, she realized that this time, their names were not haphazardly listed together; rather, the book truly contained an account of events that had occurred to herself and the White-Haired Boy. On the third page was drawn a scene of the White-Haired Boy wearing a crown and Princess Mirume clad in splendid queenly attire, standing side by side with serene smiles.

The princess could no longer tear her eyes away from this book for even an instant. She immediately opened the fourth page and began reading the story written there one after another. Since it described in full detail matters of her own life beyond any doubt—from how the princess, who loved stories, had gone out to buy life stories to how she had found this book at the base of the ginkgo tree—she became utterly engrossed. While flipping through page after page wondering what would happen next, she approached each step closer to the stone cliff along the riverbank as she walked toward home. A few people who happened to be passing by saw this scene and were terrified—

“Look out, Princess! Look out!” “You’ll fall!” they shouted at the top of their voices and dashed over. However, Princess Mirume was so absorbed in the book that she did not hear the people’s shouts—or anything else at all. Still walking as if on flat ground, she stepped one foot beyond the stone embankment—and in the blink of an eye, plunged down with a spray of water, thudding away downstream.

However, having narrowly escaped death thanks to good fortune and the White-Haired Boy, Princess Mirume—now bound by this fate—brought him to her home. When she read aloud to her parents and all present about the strange events that had occurred thus far between herself and the White-Haired Boy, they were utterly astonished, doubting whether this was merely a tale from the book or something that had truly happened to the two of them. And through this current tale, they realized that the longest-lived white-haired old man with a strange appearance whom the Red Parrot had spoken of before was neither an old man nor an old woman nor anything of the sort—it was undoubtedly this White-Haired Boy. Indeed, if it was the White-Haired Boy, he must have possessed a life story so strange there was no second like it in all the world. And since hearing this was a first for these people anywhere in the world—and since it now seemed Princess Mirume’s fate had become intertwined with his, destined to become king and queen of some unknown land—everyone could no longer bear waiting to hear what came next—

“What happened next?” “Please read ahead quickly.” they urged in unison.

Three: Blue Eyes

Princess Mirume likewise doubted whether all events since her earlier fall into the water and rescue by the White-Haired Boy were truly happening to her or were merely tales written in this book. Even before being urged by everyone, she could hardly wait to read how the story of their fates—hers and the White-Haired Boy’s—would unfold, but for now she steadied her breathing, looked around at their faces, and smiled gently. And then—

“Please wait.” “I myself do not know what will happen next either.” “I will now read ahead, so please be quiet and listen.” While saying this, she opened the next page with her heart racing.

When she looked… what did she find?

The next page was blank, without a single character written on it. "This was strange... The existing story couldn't possibly end mid-way," she thought while frantically turning to the next page—but here too lay blank paper with nothing written. She flipped through page after page to the very end, yet found only emptiness. Princess Mirume, her heart near bursting from shock at the thought that this couldn't possibly mark the end of her and the White-Haired Boy's story, flipped back through earlier pages—only to be astonished anew. Not one character remained of all that had been written before; the book had become utterly identical to a blank ledger.

Princess Mirume, utterly stunned by what had transpired, instinctively tore her gaze from the book—only to confront yet another wonder. Though she had unquestionably been reading in a grand hall moments earlier, surrounded by a crowd, now all those things—the text, the illustrations, the audience—had vanished without trace. She found herself standing vacantly at the base of the ginkgo tree once more, clutching the book in her hands. Moreover, at the base of the ginkgo tree where the book had been placed earlier—how and when had he come here?—the White-Haired Boy now sat, wasn't he dozing off while listening to the story? The princess had become utterly unable to make sense of anything. The various mysterious events from earlier were, after all, not real—she had merely imagined herself acting out the story exactly as written while reading this book. In truth, she had remained standing here all along, and it seemed the White-Haired Boy had simply come here unnoticed while she was distracted and fallen asleep. The princess, growing ever more bewildered, inadvertently let the book in her hands drop to the ground with a thud. Before long, a sudden autumn gust swept in, causing the binding to tear apart piece by piece and transforming it into countless thousands of ginkgo leaves that scattered everywhere in all directions. When she looked, she saw that each and every one of those leaves now bore a single character clearly inscribed upon it.

Overwhelmed by layer upon layer of wonders, the princess stood dazedly as if fox-possessed, watching blankly—when once more a wind swirled up, whirling the ginkgo leaves inscribed with characters into cyclones until they piled mountain-high. Then, from somewhere, an old man with vivid blue eyeballs, hair and beard, wearing a yellow kimono, appeared there. But upon seeing this mountain of ginkgo leaves, he too looked utterly astonished for some reason—

“This is disastrous.” “This can’t be left unattended for even a moment!” Having said this, he immediately entered a nearby stone gate but soon emerged carrying a large sack and broom. He swept all the ginkgo leaves into it and began hauling them off somewhere. The princess, who had been watching this, suddenly realized: if she gathered the characters written on those ginkgo leaves, she would surely understand how the story up to now continued. And so—suddenly raising her voice at the thought of them being taken away—

“Old man, please wait a moment!”

she called out to stop him.

However, the Blue-Eyed Old Man did not even glance her way and merely—

“What do you want?” Having said this dismissively, he briskly hurried onward.

Princess Mirume, seeing this, hurriedly chased after the old man—

“Old man,” “I implore you, please wait!” “And let me read the characters written on those ginkgo leaves!” she entreated with meticulous courtesy. Yet the old man answered again in a surly voice— “Don’t spout foolishness.” “This is the Demon’s script.” “Gaze upon it, and a demon will possess you.” “I cannot show it.”

While answering, he quickened his pace even more and hurried away.

Princess Mirume, beside herself with anxiety, continued to chase after the old man and inquired—

“Then what will you do with them?” “What a noisy girl you are. “I’ll take them to the mountain and burn them all up.” “What?! “That’s far too wasteful! “They contain so many fascinating stories. “If I don’t finish reading them, I won’t sleep a wink tonight. “Starting tomorrow, my life will have no purpose. “I beg you—by all that’s merciful—if you mean to help me, let me read the characters on those ginkgo leaves. Please. Please.”

While begging as if on the verge of tears, she caught up to the old man and tried to cling to his sleeve. But the old man continued to spitefully shake her off, “How should I know such a thing? The characters written on these ginkgo leaves contain Aimaru Country’s most vital secret story. If someone were to carelessly read or hear them, something terrible would befall Aimaru Country. I absolutely cannot show it to you all. Give up and go home already.”

Having said this, he quickened his pace even further and began walking away. Then, upon witnessing this scene, the White-Haired Boy—for reasons unknown—suddenly sat bolt upright and began hurriedly chasing after them. In the midst of this, Princess Mirume too ran desperately to catch up with the old man. Just as one might wonder what she intended to do, she took out a small pair of scissors from her sleeve and cut a small hole in the bottom of the sack the old man was carrying away. And then, from far behind, she began picking up the ginkgo leaves falling through the tear without the old man noticing, reading each character written upon them in a clear voice—but each character, wondrously linking in perfect order, formed into the following song’s verses.

IV. Song of the Stone Deity “Every three thousand springs, the Ginkgo Tree flourishes and flourishes— Every three thousand summers, it grows lush and flourishing— The moon crosses vast skies near treetops; the day passes over— Countless streaming stars scatter among branches— Scattering billions upon billions of leaves on this autumn midnight— Frost-etched characters multiply; tales endlessly intertwine— From where does spring come? Where does autumn go? Year after year flowers bloom— year after year leaves scatter— Age-old mysteries of this world now manifest before our eyes—

Even if eyes could see and ears could hear, even if limbs moved effortlessly, Forgetting yesterday's deeds today, forgetting moments-past deeds now,

Forgetting one’s own matters and others’, forgetting ceaselessly forever, Having lived countless years—deaf to sound, blind to sight. The wondrous king reigns—a tale of a strange land. Long, long ago in time’s first dawn, when the world held no living things, Only jagged rock-mountains and murky seas within that pitch darkness, The God of Blazing Peaks and the God of Still Waters— Between these two was born a solitary giant man. A skeleton of diamond, flesh and nails of marble, Obsidian hair, crystal skin, blood of ruby.

In the middle of a vast wilderness, its ground littered with jagged rocks,

Spread-eagled on his back in the shape of the character 大, he had lain sleeping for tens of thousands of years— One time, from beyond the heavens, a large star came flying, Against the sleeping man’s side, it collided with a heavy thud. The man grunted “Un” and opened his lapis lazuli eyes wide,

When he looked up at the boundless dark sky, not knowing where its edges lay,

From his left eye came the light of sun, from his right eye the shadow of moon, Shining with gold and silver, the two rose side by side, One illumined the Land of Day, one journeyed to the Land of Night. A blink birthed stars, a breath birthed wind, A sneeze birthed thunder, a yawn birthed clouds.

At last, the man sat bolt upright and raised his mountainous body—

When he looked all around him, every direction was nothing but rocks and soil. As for living beings from the start, not a single blade of grass grew. Overcome by unbearable loneliness, the man called out, "Hey! Hey!" Yet there was not a single person around, nor any shadow resembling a human,

A world of endless stones large and small—and he was utterly alone. In the blue sky, clouds billow. Countless upon countless gather together, They drift westward as if in high spirits. But he was utterly alone. In the black sea, waves rise. Amiably side by side they come, They break against the shore and frolic. But he was utterly alone. From the very beginning a giant man of mystery. Neither house, nor clothing, nor food— Though needing nothing at all—as for companions, humans, Birds and beasts are still foolish; not a single blade of grass enters his eyes.

The terror of the vast plain. The dread of the stony plain.

Though he had come into being through such pains, there was no one to talk to, nothing at all— The loneliness, the bitterness, the desolation. The man finally grew restless— Who on earth created me in this plain?

Who on earth brought me to this wilderness? If only I had kept sleeping—if only I had slept until death— I would never have had to endure such lonely, heartless, painful feelings. Who on earth struck me with a heavy thud and woke me up— He sprang to his feet and shouted at the top of his voice—

The only response came from mountain echoes—voices drifting across the far reaches of the fields.

In the blue sky, clouds billowed. But he remained utterly alone. In the black sea, waves swelled. Yet he stood utterly alone. The man finally flew into a rage, seized his own hair,

raising his bloodshot eyes and glaring at the distant blue sky,

He cried at the top of his voice while cursing, "Let even heaven tremble!"

Hear me, vast sky! Hear me, earth! Hear me, mountains and fields! Hear me, sea! You who are visible and you unseen ones—all beings, hear! I will die right now—I will end myself here and now. In this loneliness of mine, I shall curse heaven and earth and perish. To live on in such a desolate, dreadful place— Better to die than endure these sorrows. Even with these eyes—if they see nothing of interest, If they behold no beauty—then they are utterly worthless—

He gouged out his own eyes and hurled them into the distant void. When the eyeballs he had hurled upward struck the ground, they became a rolled-up book without a single written character. Even if he had these two ears—if he couldn't hear anything interesting, if he couldn't hear others' conversations—they'd be utterly useless. He tore off both at once and slammed them onto the ground. Then, when his two ears also struck the ground, they became a heavy stone flute without a single hole.

Even with a nose—as far as the eye could see across this vast field devoid of blooming flowers— if all it did was choke on dust, it became nothing but a hindrance,

Deeming it as useless as shit, he tore it off and slammed it down.

Then, with a clattering sound, the stringless lute fell between the stones at the giant man’s feet. Even if there were another person to converse with—without someone to listen—this tongue—

While declaring it useless, he bit through it with a sharp snap,

he spat it out between the stones. Along with that, with a clattering roll— A wooden bell without a pendulum rolled across the ground.

And so the giant man who had gnawed away his own self and his own body, His breath ceased in an instant as he collapsed onto the stony plain, His limbs and head scattering in pieces, separated from his torso and rolled away. Just then, clouds billowed in all directions while thunder roared and winds howled, The light of sun and moon turned pitch-dark, scattering sand and pebbles aloft, The torrential rain that could float cart axles became cascades of mud and gravel,

The giant man’s corpse too was showered upon as if to bury it completely.

At that moment, the sea, the fields, and the mountains resounded as if to shatter, In the midst of terrifyingly dreadful, pitch darkness, From between the stone man’s eyebrows, a red light began to glow,

The forehead bone split cleanly in two with a crack—in the very instant it seemed—

A crimson parrot burst forth and flew off toward the east. From the stone man’s chest, a blue light glowed— adorned with gemstone scales and entwined with a slender sea serpent— as a great mirror appeared and flew off toward the south. At last, clouds cleared from the sky and storms ceased upon the land. Muddy plains with muddy mountains, a turbid sea—all else— at the edge where nothing could be seen, a crimson sun swirled round and round as it began to sink, glaringly bright. At that moment, at the very bottom of the ground, his stone man’s corpse—

From countless pores—hundreds of millions, no, billions beyond counting— large and small, of every kind—stone eggs gushed forth,

Illuminated by the warm day, they hatched one by one. What emerged from the feet became plants and trees; what emerged from the torso became crawling vermin, What emerged from the hands became birds and beasts; those that sank into water turned to fish-scraps, What gushed forth from the head became countless humans, they split open, crawled out into the world, and scattered as they remain now,

A single country was formed, and it was named Aimaru. Now, within that realm, only one—welling up from the navel—

A small white particle of noble and august form took the place of the young lord—the king of Aimaru Country— ascended to the throne and remained thus through thousands upon millions of years, governing countless ages in tranquil peace. Throughout this Aimaru Country, reaching every inlet and shore— all worked with honesty—this rare longevity's— and because they served their king with loyalty, he who dwelled among them never deigned to concern himself with a single matter across his vast domain—

Always in the depths of the palace, resting upon a silver bed, neither in reality nor dream, the unknowing soul— slipping away to other worlds, to those of other realms, went about revealing the king’s carefree nature."

Unfortunately, having read this far, the old man who had gone ahead noticed his bag had suddenly become lighter at that moment. Thinking it strange as he turned to look, he found ginkgo leaves fallen from the sack on his back trailing all the way behind him. Startled by this disaster, he inspected the bag—only to discover the triangular hole Princess Mirume had earlier cut with scissors now gaping at the sack's bottom. The old man could scarcely contain his fury upon seeing this—

“You wretched brat, prepare yourself! Since you’ve pulled such mischief and ruined my crucial duty, I can’t let you live! Watch what I’ll do to you!”

Shouting loudly, he suddenly took on a demon-like face, discarded the bag and everything else, turned back, and came chasing after her.

Princess Mirume was doubly startled. There was no longer any question of reading the characters on the ginkgo leaves. Panicking, she fled and clung to the sleeve of the White-Haired Boy, who had come from behind—

“Oh! Please help me!” “Mr. White-Haired Boy.” “Please help me.” “That old gentleman will kill me.” “Please help me.” “Please take me and run away.” “Hurry. Hurry.” While saying this, she had already taken the lead and started running. Seeing this state of affairs, the old man grew even angrier, turning crimson,

“You wretched demon’s spawn! Do you think I’d let you escape?” “I’ll chase you to the ends of the sky and catch you!” “Once I catch you, I won’t let you live!” “You there—white-haired man trailing behind! You wait too!” “You both must be demons!” “You must be demons disrupting the country!” “Since you’ve read the Stone Deity’s text, you must be a fragment of a demon!” “I can’t let you escape!” “I can’t let you live!”

He gave chase, bellowing loudly.

However, at this moment, the White-Haired Boy—having been urged by Princess Mirume to flee together from behind—heard the old man’s bellowing voice and suddenly turned to look back. No sooner had he caught a glimpse of that face than the old man appeared utterly shocked, as if his spine had melted— “Ah! Your Majesty—are you not the King of Aimaru Country? Why have you deigned to come here? And that form of yours… Ah, how awe-inspiring… yet wretched your form…”

—and he stood frozen in astonishment. However, Princess Mirume kept running ahead without noticing a thing, and the White-Haired Boy stuck close behind her—then, seizing the moment when the old man had stopped in his tracks, they dashed off with a clatter. Seeing this state of affairs, the old gentleman began panicking like a madman—

“Ah! Your Majesty! Your Majesty! What is the meaning of this, Your Majesty? Please wait, Your Majesty! Please wait, Your Majesty! That woman is a demon—a great demon, Your Majesty! Preposterous! Preposterous! Your Majesty… please wait! Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

Panting, he once again took to the air and gave chase.

Thus, the three of them—chasing and being chased—gradually came running far from human habitation, but Princess Mirume let out a voice so strained and anguished it seemed unbearable—

“Mr. White-Haired Boy… Mr. White-Haired Boy…” She called out while running away, glancing back again and again as she ran. From behind came the old man—his blue eyes bloodshot— “King Aimaru-sama… Your Majesty… Aimaru-sama—” He gave chase while shouting. The White-Haired Boy kept running recklessly, gasping for breath. Before long, the setting sun sank deeply into the western mountains, and the surroundings grew cold and dim. Dew fell across the field, and stars began shining in the sky. But the old man did not stop chasing. When they finally pushed deep into the mountains, circled a small pond’s edge, and entered a vast cedar forest, everything plunged into pitch darkness—nothing visible ahead or behind. Guided only by Princess Mirume’s voice trembling with terrified sobs, they groped along tree trunks as they pressed forward. Soon the White-Haired Boy grew gaunt with exhaustion, his breath coming in wheezes. Still he kept running—snagging on roots here, colliding with trunks there—until he could no longer take another step—

“Oof!”

No sooner had he called out than he staggered and collapsed right there.

Five: Seven Lights

Then, strangely enough, the voice that had just called out seemed to have reached someone’s ears—for in the distance, resoundingly— “O——O……”

A voice replied. The White-Haired Boy steadily raised his face and looked ahead. Right where the voice had come from, a small light began to flicker faintly. Soon, that single light became three. Then five. Then seven. In the blink of an eye, those seven lights lined up orderly and began advancing toward them. When he looked at the scene illuminated by the seven lights, there lay a wide corridor adorned splendidly—what seemed to be jewels or gold and silver decorating its ceiling and walls reflected five-colored light, creating a beauty so dazzling it nearly blinded the eyes. Gradually, the lights drew nearer, and before long, the figures of those holding them came clearly into view.

Looking closer, among the seven bearers, only the one at the center was an old man wearing a yellow kimono, while the remaining six were all twelve- or thirteen-year-old boys clad in sky-blue kimonos. And that old man was undoubtedly the Blue-Eyed Old Man who had earlier chased Princess Mirume and the White-Haired Boy. The seven people quickly approached his side, but when he looked around by the light of their hand candles, this place was again a large, spacious—and far more magnificent than the previous corridor—room. When the White-Haired Boy looked back at his own figure—what was this? Until just moments ago, he had been dressed in ragged beggar’s clothes and lying on the ground—yet now he wore a white, lightweight silk nightgown and was buried within soft, thick bedding. And when he saw the hair cascading over his own face—what a sight it was! What had until now been as white as waterfall water was now thick, glossy green locks of hair, and each time they swayed, an indescribably beautiful fragrance welled forth. For an ordinary person faced with layer upon layer of strange wonders, they would surely either faint on the spot or else pinch their own arm, convinced they must be dreaming—but the White-Haired Boy remained utterly unperturbed. He had been here since last night, the night before, and long before that—wearing an expression as though he had just awoken—and lay on his side watching the old man who stood before him.

The old man, leading six children, came before the bed and bowed respectfully. And then, reverently, he opened his mouth—

“Your Majesty.” “It is I, the Blue-Eyed Old Man.” “I have come in accordance with your summons.” “For what purpose have I been summoned?” “I humbly ask that you command me as you see fit.” Even when addressed like this, the White-Haired Boy gave no reply and merely stared vacantly at the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s face. Then, seeming to recall something, the old man signaled with his eyes to a child beside him, whereupon one of them scooped up jewel-like water into a crystal cup and reverently presented it before him. He took it and drank—how delicious it was—and it seemed some noble medicine must have been mixed within, for all his prior fatigue and suffering vanished completely, and he felt fresh vitality coursing through his entire body.

Lord Blue-Eyed Old Man received the cup that the White-Haired Boy, King Aimaru, had drained, passed it to a child nearby, then immediately signaled with his eyes again—dismissing all six children to a distant corridor—before crouching alone before the king and cautiously opening his mouth—

“Your Majesty. With all due respect, might Your Majesty have just now beheld some dream?” King Aimaru, once again unable to properly comprehend the words, found himself incapable of responding. As a sign that he simply didn’t understand, he shook his head slightly from side to side. But the Blue-Eyed Old Man, seeming unbearably worried, stared fixedly at King Aimaru’s face. And then, with even more polite words layered upon his speech, he timidly inquired.

“Your Majesty. “I have served as Your Majesty’s guardian until today. “Thus Your Majesty has never concealed a single matter from me. “I do not presume to doubt Your Majesty, but could it be you have forgotten the dream you just beheld? “Could it be you pursued my trail alongside the demon’s daughter clad in white robes and beheld the characters inscribed upon the ginkgo leaves? “Surely—surely you have not beheld it? “Should you conceal this, no small calamity shall befall both Your Majesty’s person and this country’s future.”

The Blue-Eyed Old Man’s words grew increasingly vehement. And with a look of terror, he gazed into the King’s face and pressed him vehemently.

Why was the Blue-Eyed Old Man asking such things? And why did the story written on those ginkgo leaves weigh so heavily on his mind? And if one were to hear that story again—why would such calamity befall them? How did the Blue-Eyed Old Man even know about it? Had King Aimaru been an ordinary man, he would have voiced these doubts and pressed for explanations. Yet King Aimaru remained just as he had always been as the White-Haired Boy—a simpleton, carefree and silent. He gave no thought whatsoever to whether his present station or former beggar’s life held any truth. Indeed, he had long forgotten ever being called the White-Haired Boy at all. With his single eye widened and blinking rapidly, he merely shook his head once more from side to side.

When the Blue-Eyed Old Man finally concluded that the king had not seen that dream, he seemed suddenly relieved and let out a happy sigh. And then, while bowing respectfully and deeply once more—

“Your Majesty. “Never before have I felt such relief. “I most humbly beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness for intruding at this late hour and speaking such discourteous words. “Dawn has now broken. “I shall summon the children to prepare for the morning.” So saying,

After the old man once again performed a deep bow of utmost respect and withdrew, the six children from before—dressed in sky-blue garments—filed in, this time each holding various grooming tools in their hands as they formed a procession and entered, having King Aimaru prepare for the morning.

One child slowly took [the king’s] hand and guided him from the bed to a chair, while another stood before him holding a large golden basin filled with water. One of the nearby children removed his kimono. Another had him rinse his mouth. Yet another wiped down his entire body. The remaining one combed his hair from behind. The final one sprinkled perfume. All carried out their duties in orderly silence—first dressing him in a black-ground kimono adorned with gold braid, then putting soft blue leather boots on his feet, fastening a sword inlaid with gold and silver at his waist, and finally, after letting his green hair—scented with perfumed oil—hang long down his back, placing a magnificent golden crown upon his head before cloaking him in a thick white fur coat so long it trailed across the floor. Thus did King Aimaru—the White-Haired Boy who until moments ago had worn but a single robe and gone barefoot—find himself suddenly bound by heavy constrictions, rendered nearly immobile. Then, the six children divided into three groups, opened the six windows on three sides of the chamber, and let the morning’s clear light and gentle wind flow throughout the entire room. And so, leaving behind King Aimaru—who stood enraptured by the beautiful vista beneath the translucent blue light of dawn: drowsily blinking stars, palaces arrayed like a dream, the flower garden before them, and the fountain—the six children withdrew soundlessly to some unknown place, taking with them the assorted grooming tools.

Six: The Minister and the Fisherman

From this point onward, the various events witnessed by King Aimaru were such that any ordinary person would have been astonished each time, left dazzled to the point of blindness.

On this day proclaimed as King Aimaru’s birthday, he made a morning visit to the Stone Deity’s Mausoleum—located within a grove of Shikonju Trees north of the castle—accompanied by Duke Kouki, a tall, black-haired prime minister who bore a striking resemblance to Princess Mirume’s father, and a multitude of guard soldiers. The moment when the soldiers all simultaneously raised their swords in salute was nothing short of divine. Then, proceeding to the palace’s grand hall, he received congratulatory words one by one from a multitude of esteemed officials, the four kings guarding the four directions of this country, and their retainers—the solemnity of that moment. Or when he rode in a magnificent twelve-horse-drawn carriage, proceeding to the vast southern plain of the castle with cavalry guarding him fore and aft, and had tens of thousands of soldiers conduct a military review—how gallant that was.

Then, when night fell, came the extravagance of the grand music concert, grand ball, and grand banquet held at the palace. There was not a single sight or sound that failed to astonish the eyes and ears.

However, King Aimaru—the White-Haired Boy, simpleton that he was—remained as composed and unhurried as ever. Smiling cheerfully and maintaining his dignified composure as though he were a king born to the throne, he made his many retainers regard him as far nobler and more awe-inspiring than usual.

However, within this day, there was only one thing that King Aimaru seemed to genuinely admire as beautiful, lovely, rare, and mysterious. It was a parrot holding a red shuttlecock. This parrot had been sent by a boy named Kouya—the son of Prime Minister Duke Kouki mentioned earlier—who normally came daily to the palace as His Majesty’s play companion. Today, however, Kouya had been feeling unwell and found himself unable to pay his respects, so he dispatched this substitute diversion instead. It had been placed in a cage upon the ivory-inlaid desk at the center of the king’s chamber. Strangely enough, its singing voice bore an uncanny resemblance to that of Princess Mirume, whom he had heard in last night’s dream. When he closed his eyes and listened, it seemed as though the princess herself had drawn near.

What was even more curious was this: King Aimaru—the White-Haired Boy who would completely forget anything he saw or heard the moment it passed—appeared to retain Princess Mirume’s form and voice with vivid clarity. No sooner had the banquet ended and he been led back to his chamber than he pricked up his ears at the Red Parrot’s song. Too impatient to change his robes, he hurriedly settled into a nearby silver chair and listened entranced to its song.

Not only the melody of that song, but even its lyrics closely resembled those of the chant Princess Mirume had recited in last night’s dream.

“In the blue sky, clouds billow forth, yet vanish away in an instant. In the black sea, waves rise up, only to soon fade away. The timeless wonders of this world—have you seen them? Heard them? Comprehended them? The dream I glimpsed yestereve—oh its mystery! Its terror! The Tale of the White-Haired Boy. And my own tale. And once more within that dream I saw, at the ending of this existence of mine,

Last night, I fled into some forest depths with the White-Haired Boy,

Until that moment when I collapsed at the tree roots, I was Duke Miruro's third daughter—the girl named Mirume— the third daughter though I was called Mirume— When I awoke this morning and came to my senses—oh how strange!—a stranger to my own sight— the minister of Aimaru Country, a duke who styles himself Kouki— his third princess—what could this mean? My robes, my home—all transformed completely—even my very name— I have become Mikure. The only things unchanged are my dear parents— my brothers and sisters—and the faces of our retainers.

When she wondered if this was a dream, those around her burst into laughter, "What are you saying? Did you have some kind of dream?" "You have always been this household's dear, dear Princess Mikure." From long ago, she had loved stories—more than anything else, more than anything in the world— because she had continued reading books and become engrossed, her mind had become somewhat altered, and over those ten-some years,

She had seen a foolishly long dream that she had been in another place, and ended up taking it as reality; she must be half-asleep.

By that strange one and all, I was made a laughingstock. Yet try as I might, I could not help but doubt—was this present self of mine real,

Whether my former self was but a dream—I cannot help but doubt. If my present were a dream, then being laughed at by everyone so— By any consideration, there should be no reason to doubt this again. If my former self were real, then before I had even begun to dream— I cannot recall even the slightest thing—there should be no reason for that. If both the present and past are real, or if both are dreams, I can no longer tell whether I exist or do not exist. Well, whether it be a dream or whatever else, my mysterious circumstances—

Please consider carefully—right beside my window,

A large, beautiful Red Parrot mimicking my song. Upon waking from this uncanny dream at dawn, even as the sun rose and the moon sank,

Even if birds sang among the trees, the phantom lingering in my eyes still—

Snow-white hair and alabaster skin, a moon-pale countenance with cloud-like brows, A most noble figure—the august form of the Beggar King. Adorned with snow-white hair, stirring up emerald waves, If a golden crown were bestowed and he were summoned to a silver chair, Though I have yet to pay my respects, he would not be inferior to the noble figures of this country. My dear elder sister will soon ascend to Empress—

she will soon ascend to the throne—or so my elder brother said this morning.

The name of my elder brother—Lord Kouya—was one that rang most dignified, My elder sister’s noble name was Princess Koukou, graced with blossom hues. As for my dear elder sister’s most auspicious fortune— While thinking it a glad thing, while thinking it a joyous thing, I remained alone, dwelling on the august form from last night’s dream— Longing for the white-haired noble one as though they were absent, Who would call pitiable this existence of mine, living in solitude? Even should they deem it pitiable, even should they deem it lamentable, Though one might relive last night’s dream, there would be no means to see it anew—

In the blue sky, clouds billow up, but they quickly scatter and vanish away.

In the black sea, waves rise, but they quickly vanish away. This undying feeling of mine—did you see it? Hear it? Comprehend it?

Chasing birds through empty skies—this wish of mine proved even more elusive. Catching sweetfish in swift river's rapids—this wish of mine proved even more elusive. This phantom—neither dream nor reality, not even of the waking world—

"This foolishly yearning heart of mine—did you see it? Hear it? Understand it?"

King Aimaru forgot himself and was entranced by this song. And then, as he envisioned Princess Mirume's form—as though watching the continuation of last night's dream—the Red Parrot, which had remained silent for some time, once again lowered its head and began to sing a different song in the same voice and melody as before.

“In the blue sky, clouds billow up, but they quickly scatter away. In the black sea, waves rise, but they swiftly still.”

The age-old mysteries of this world—have you seen them? Heard them? Understood them?

Within Aimaru Country, in the southern land, a lake—

Among the many renowned lakes was Lake Tarumi— a place where my aged Father and I caught fish. We dove into jade waves chasing gold and silver fish; we sank into lapis lazuli depths probing for pearl-bearing shells. Countless were the fish we caught; limitless were the shells we gathered. In those joyous days we had a small boat with a small sail,

Carried by wind and wave, we sang endless sea songs. But since last night, I have been wondering whether this happiness of mine—

Is this truly all there is—or does this world hold more—

I cannot help doubting whether more joyful things truly exist in this world— The dream I saw at dawn this morning—its sheer strangeness and intrigue. My father, who had been a fisherman, became Duke Miruro, Mother—who had departed—alongside Elder Brother and Elder Sister, A tale of living happily through those ten-odd years.

The tale inscribed in ginkgo characters came to an end at its most regrettable point— The Stone Deity's story became entwined with my own circumstances, as the White-Haired Boy, the Blue-Eyed Old Man, and I—the three of us— pursuing and being pursued, found ourselves within a forest of absolute darkness.

When I awaken and come to my senses, this body remains unchanged as before. The glory of ten-odd years I saw as but a fleeting dream, The sound of waves resounding against the pillow, the voice of wind blowing through the window, This body lies amidst dried straw, still wearing rags as it sleeps. Is the present me fortunate, or the dream me fortunate?

In the blue sky, clouds billow up; in the black sea, waves rise. Be it even a dream, I care not. Be it even reality, I care not.

I found it mysterious and rare—fascinating yet terrifying— I wanted to see more of that Stone Deity's story. What a waste I made of it all—what a waste I made of it all. "Oh my! You're the Red Parrot—the Red Parrot from my dream."

Coming to a window where night had yet to break, gripping the windowsill,

Bathing in starlight, it beat its wings with a clattering sound.

Were you truly here? Were you truly in this world? If you are not a dream, but truly exist in this world,

your fellow monster’s Four Tools, and then also—

Snakes and mirrors must also be somewhere in this country.

And just as you now vividly exist before my eyes, I properly retain Mirume's wisdom and learning. Even after waking from the dream, I haven't forgotten—I still retain it properly. Was that a prophetic dream, or was it something that truly happened?

And that I would attain such a noble status— Is this an omen-bearing dream—this truly mysterious morning’s vision?

At the base of the ginkgo tree where I had perused it—within that mysterious book— Had my portrait as queen not been mere fantasy?

In the sky: the countless white stars; in the sea: the blue hues of waves.

The trailing clouds' sweet fragrance—already staining dawn's hues—

In the eastern sky glimmered faintly sunlight more beautiful than a dream. "Red Parrot, what has become of you? Oh, how terrifyingly beautiful—" A deep crimson light blazed radiant to dazzlement, As it beat its wings ceaselessly, soaring high from the window, When all at once in the eastern sky emerged the sun's light, Upon the sea's surface swelled golden and silver waves—cloud-like billows, Churning ever onward toward white-crested waves offshore— "Oh... It has vanished..."

King Aimaru was once again entranced by this song, narrowing his eyes in rapture as he forgot the deepening night. Then, as bedtime seemed to have arrived within that moment, the Blue-Eyed Old Man from that morning entered with six children carrying a handheld candlestick—but upon seeing the King, who had placed the parrot’s cage in the pitch-dark room and sat wholly absorbed in listening to its song, he appeared inexplicably alarmed and hurriedly approached the King— “Your Majesty is engaging in something outrageous. Your Majesty—have you forgotten our country’s ancient laws? ‘Those who steal human voices, those who steal others’ forms, those who steal others’ lifeblood—these three are demons. Smash them upon sight! Kill them! Burn them to ashes and bury them in the earth!’ Have you forgotten these words? This bird is precisely the demon I spoke of—the one that steals human voices! The demon has come to steal Your Majesty’s voice! Hah! Terrible—terrible! I humbly beg your pardon. I shall take this bird and kill it.”

As he spoke, he tried to take up the cage and carry it away. Just then, by some chance, the cage’s bottom fell out, so the Red Parrot immediately burst forth in a flash, flapping its wings as if overjoyed—and in an instant, it emitted a crimson light dazzling enough to blind the eyes, soared high into the sky amidst the pitch blackness, and vanished into the clouds.

Seven: Eye, Ear, Nose, Mouth

The next morning, upon waking, King Aimaru promptly finished dressing and visited the ancestral mausoleum north of the castle with Minister Kouki, just as he had the previous day. After that, however, there were no grand-scale incidents like those of the day before. Led back to his room by his attendants, he finished an even more splendid breakfast than the day before. However, when that meal was finished, a splendid military officer soon entered and, while giving King Aimaru a deep salute—

“Lord Kouya has arrived.” he said. No sooner had the king nodded lightly than he passed by the military officer, and in came a boy clad in red clothes and white shoes—a boy who bore a striking resemblance to his Princess Mikure—looking utterly delighted and full of energy as he ran into the room. After exchanging an embrace in greeting with King Aimaru, Kouya released his hands from the hug and immediately began to speak—

“Your Majesty.” “Yesterday, I wanted so desperately—so desperately—to come see you that I could hardly bear it.” “Truly, if I go even a single day without seeing Your Majesty, I feel so lonely—so lonely—as though I’ve been alone for one or even two years.” “Today, let us do something amusing instead.” “Shall we go fishing? Or perhaps horseback riding?” “Or maybe mountain hunting?” “I will accompany you in whatever you choose, Your Majesty.”

Seeing his face—so earnest as he spoke in that dignified, spirited voice—anyone would feel enticed and want to join him in play. Then Kouya suddenly noticed the parrot’s empty cage that the Blue-Eyed Old Man had left behind by the desk last night and—eyes widening into perfect circles of astonishment—asked—

“Oh! Isn’t this cage empty? Has that red bird escaped?” The King nodded while smiling cheerfully.

“Oh! “So it’s already gotten away?” “You wretched thing!” “Even though I went to the trouble of teaching it all sorts of amusing tricks.” “And where did it escape to?” King Aimaru remained silent as usual and pointed to the eastern window from which the parrot had escaped last night. When he saw this, Kouya slapped his knee—

“Ah. “I see.” “I see.” “In that case, it must have returned to its former home in the mountains.” “Apparently when my retainer went to catch small birds there four or five days ago, it got caught in the net along with them. Since I found it quite precious, I entrusted it to my sister.” “I don’t know what its name was, but it was such an amusing bird that could mimic any voice—what a shame it did this.” “Then how about this?” “Today I shall accompany you on a mountain hunt.” “Shall we try to catch that bird once more?” “Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” “We can catch it immediately and return it to this cage.” “What do you say, Your Majesty?” “Would that not be the way to proceed, Your Majesty?”

he urged eagerly. No sooner had King Aimaru nodded lightly than the impetuous boy—appearing as such—immediately ordered the soldiers to prepare for the hunt and had them do so.

King Aimaru, mounted on a white horse with forty mounted warriors carrying bows and arrows at his back and Kouya—who bore a hunting horn at his chest—positioned before and behind him, departed through the castle gate at a leisurely pace while receiving salutes from sentries clad in resplendent armor. True to being the foremost capital of Aimaru Country, every street through which the king passed bustled without exception: houses so tall they seemed to pierce the clouds stood densely without gaps, rendering the thoroughfares as dim as the bottom of a well even at midday. Vehicles of varied shapes—drawn by horses, oxen, dogs, camels, ostriches, deer, and other sundry creatures—proceeded in processional lines. And so the people—each with hair of red, white, russet, or black; eyes and complexions of varied hues—wore kimonos tailored to their liking, jostling and pushing past one another through shops adorned in splendor. The spectacle resembled spring and autumn flowers all at once flowing down a river. Yet when King Aimaru’s procession came into view, this bustling thoroughfare all at once fell utterly silent—in the blink of an eye, the path split open left and right, drivers raised their whips in salute, beasts bent their foreknees, and passersby doffed their hats in deepest reverence. Through this space, the king's procession passed quietly. Before long, they reached the edge of town. From there, they quickened their horses and crossed the fields, dashing into the mountains lining the eastern direction.

The forty mounted warriors accompanying them that day all obeyed Kouya’s orders, paying no heed to other birds or beasts. Focusing solely on finding any bird with red feathers that spoke in a human voice, they kept their eyes peeled and ears pricked as they proceeded. Foremost among them, Kouya led the way, remaining vigilant alongside the group as they ventured deeper into the mountains—listening for birdcalls resembling human speech, scanning for glimpses of crimson feathers—yet all that met their eyes were slopes ablaze with autumn foliage. The only sound to reach them was that of a distant mountain stream flowing. Even that sound faded in and out at times. In the sky hung not a single cloud; on the ground stirred not a single leaf—it was a day so eerily quiet and clear it felt unnerving.

Undeterred, everyone continued their search with single-minded focus, but as noon approached, both men and horses entered a certain oak forest. After resting while eating their rations, they agreed to reunite there in the evening. The forty then split into four groups and scoured every mountain and valley in all directions, leaving no area unsearched. Yet the forest remained serenely silent, and the red bird they sought showed neither shadow nor form. Among them, King Aimaru's group of ten had searched from the previous oak forest eastward until evening, but even as dusk now approached—with not only no shadow resembling their target but not even a single sparrow coming into view—they all became disheartened and utterly exhausted, resolving to return to the foremost oak forest as promised.

At that very moment, all ten of them suddenly heard a song being sung somewhere far off—a voice that was both avian and human, uncanny and strange. “I abide here. Lonely I abide here. For the arrival of my beloved one. I humbly await. In the blue sky, clouds billow. In the black sea, waves rise.

The age-old mysteries of the world. Did you see? Did you hear? Did you comprehend? Be it dream or waking realm, Here I abide. Lonely I abide here. "My name is Red Parrot." They exchanged glances, then at someone's cry surged forward with renewed vigor—yet somehow all ten heard the voice from differing directions: one eastward, another westward. Calling "This way! Here!" they scattered to the eight winds.

King Aimaru, who had remained behind—unable to discern which direction to take—wandered aimlessly toward where the voice seemed to originate, until before he knew it, he had ended up deep within a certain valley, entering a pitch-dark cedar grove. By then, the short autumn day had already ended, and the birds’ voices had faded away—but in their place, flickering firelight began to appear deep within the pitch-dark cedar forest. Upon seeing the fire, the white horse that had been carrying the king silently until now appeared startled—suddenly stiffening all four legs and refusing to move—so King Aimaru dismounted, tossed aside the reins, and stomped over toward the bonfire’s edge.

When he looked, by the fire were four strange people lying down or sitting as they warmed themselves by the flames. At the far right sat a filthy old man with yellow hair hanging down, blowing into a flute without holes. Next to him lay a completely bald monk—devoid of eyebrows or beard—ceaselessly shaking a wooden bell that lacked a pendulum. Then, lying face down at that edge was an emaciated, pallid woman—her gaunt face illuminated only by gleaming eyes, disheveled black hair hanging messily about her—spreading open in her hands a blank book devoid of any writing or illustrations and reading it. And to the right of her sat a plump, red-swollen, utterly naked baby holding a stringless lute and plucking it. Were an ordinary person to see such beings in such a place, the blood in their body might freeze to its end; but King Aimaru was unperturbed, and instead, grinning curiously, he approached them and held his hand over the fire.

No sooner had King Aimaru approached and crouched nearby than the old man—whose wrinkled face had until then concealed any discernible eyes or mouth—parted his creases to reveal saucer-like eyes and a crimson maw, bursting into raucous laughter. At this signal, the other three sprang up simultaneously and commenced circling both the bonfire and King Aimaru in a bizarre dance. First, the Thin Woman opened her blank book and began dancing while singing in an uncanny melody; trailing behind her came the Naked Baby, slapping his stringless lute noisily with pudgy palms. Following their lead, the remaining two swung their tools wildly as they hopped about in unison like crickets or shrimp. The song went thus:

“Got him! Got him! Good. Good. The time has come to become king. Take this country, speak our whims, The time has come to indulge in pleasures.” “We are Lord Stone Deity’s Four precious servants. Eyes and mouth and Nose and ears and.”

At the founding of Aimaru Country

Our master Lord Stone Deity, With nothing to see or hear— The loneliness and anguish of being utterly alone, Unable to endure, he gnawed his own body, gnawed heaven and earth and perished. In the eyes: naught but wilderness stones— No sight to behold—imbued with grudge— In the ears: naught but wind's voice and waves' roar— A grudge deaf to all else— In the nose: the scent of the lake's dust and pollen— A grudge that smells naught else— In the tongue: no one to converse with— Whether weeping or laughing—a solitary figure of Lonely, lonely grudge imbued— he left behind and perished.

The eyeballs’ craving—to see, to see— The ears’ wish—to hear everything— The nose’s desire—to smell everything— The tongue’s yearning—to speak all— We are Lord Stone Deity’s Four Tools steeped in grudge!” The Thin Woman emerged from the book. The Old Man surged forth from the flute.

The naked baby emerged from the stringless lute. The Bald Monk emerged from the bell. The four servants—Lord Stone Deity’s

“instruments gnawing upon this world.” The Bald Monk’s wooden bell To shut the king’s mouth.

The Thin Woman’s written document— To crush the king’s eyeballs. The Naked Baby’s stringless lute— To block the king’s nose. The Old Man’s stone flute— To seal the king’s ears. And having driven out the king, The four would take the king’s place— Transforming into a single form, Wielding his authority “To act as we please.”

“Interesting.” “Interesting.” “Grateful.” “Grateful.” “Seized.” “Seized.” “Exquisite.” “Exquisite.”

To the King. The time had come. For this country— Declaring our willfulness— "The time to indulge in pleasure had come." And so they continued like this—singing and dancing, dancing and singing—over and over. But when the completely naked baby stopped plucking the stringless lute, everyone ceased dancing simultaneously and passed their held tools to King Aimaru. When King Aimaru casually accepted the clapper-less wooden bell from the Bald Monk—oh!—his lips and tongue suddenly went numb and paralyzed until even his voice disappeared. Next, upon receiving the blank book from the Thin Woman, his vision vanished. When he took the stringless lute from the Naked Baby, his sense of smell failed. When he received the flute from the Old Man, his hearing finally disappeared too—leaving him utterly unable to discern directions or his own location.

The four demonic beings, upon seeing this body, once again began dancing joyfully around King Aimaru—

“King Aimaru has finally died.” “He lived on yet ended up dead.” “Existing in this world yet not part of it.” “Interesting! Interesting! Interesting!”

Our master, Lord Stone Deity— He could see with his eyes and hear with his ears, But in the very midst of that vast wilderness, There was nothing to see or hear at all,

the loneliness and anguish of utter solitude Unable to endure, he cursed heaven and earth.

“cursing his own body, he ended up dying.”

The lingering grudge’s single-minded resolve entered eyeballs and transformed into a woman, remained in the mouth and became the Bald Monk, moved into the nose and transformed into the Naked Baby, remained in the ears and became the Old Man— “Now in this world, to King Aimaru— the former master’s loneliness and anguish— the time has come to make him realize: Even when flowers bloom, even when leaves turn crimson— even when the wind blows, even when autumn showers come— he can neither see nor hear. Neither hunger nor thirst—but in exchange— no matter what feast he might receive— he can taste no flavor and perceive no aroma.” Even when whipped until blood oozes out,

He felt no pain, nor any sadness.

A mysterious body devoid of sound and scent. Existing in this world yet knowing nothing of it. Whether night or day—what folly. He knows not even where his own body resides. "An utterly lonely and pitiable life." At the beginning of the world, Lord Stone Deity— Born into darkness, returning to darkness. The utterly solitary lonely heart "Have you grasped it now? Know it fully!" They had been singing in unison and dancing, but when the baby let out a sharp shriek, all four leapt together into the blazing fire and vanished—no sooner had this happened than from the rising flames emerged a boy identical to King Aimaru in every detail, from hair color to clothing, dancing forth before the king's very eyes. Looking now, the former King Aimaru had already transformed into the shabby figure of the White-Haired Boy beggar, his once-green tasseled hair reverting to its original snow-white color.

Upon witnessing this spectacle, the new King Aimaru let out a dry, rattling laugh, thrust his right hand into the nearby bonfire to stir the flames, and chanted an incantation in a resounding voice— “O fire spirit—redder than anything in this world— Brighter than anything in this world— More beautiful than anything in this world— Spirit of fire—spirit of blood—spirit of flowers— When that feathered shuttlecock flaps its wings— In an instant to heaven’s farthest edge— Then straight to earth’s deepest depths—”

Dash about in a single bound— The radiance of those crimson eyes— Be it night or day— Across ten thousand leagues and beyond— All lies revealed without motion— Every voice worthy of being called a voice, every sound deserving of being named a sound— They hear them all and mimic them all— Spirit of voices! Spirit of words! Spirit of songs!—

“Come out, red parrot!” As he shouted this and withdrew his hand from the flames, a red bird came to perch atop his fist. The red bird was identical in every detail to his Red Parrot—the one that had escaped from Aimaru’s royal palace and was now being sought by a host of soldiers all day long—save for its eyeballs alone, which now shone like rubies or flames, casting light that swept through their surroundings with an intensity never seen before.

Placing it in his left hand, the new King Aimaru strode briskly toward the White-Haired Boy— “How about it, King Aimaru? Did you see? Did you hear? Did you understand?” “Hahahaha.” “You can’t see, can’t hear, can’t understand.” “But I’ll tell you anyway, even if it’s pointless.” “Needless to say, I am those four demons from earlier transformed.” “I am the Stone Deity’s crystallized grudge.” “I’ve manipulated the Red Parrot in every way to finally bring you here.” “A pity—but I’ve taken your form.” “I’ll spare your life on one condition: become a wretched beggar who sees nothing, hears nothing, neither eats nor speaks nor smells—and wander the world.” “Meanwhile, I’ll pose as king and do exactly as I please.”

Ah, the moon seemed to have begun rising over the eastern mountains. "Well then." "I suppose it’s time to set out."

He took two or three steps forward but turned back again and— “Wait, wait. “Here—our faces are exactly alike. No one could tell which of us is the real one.” “As a courtesy, I’ll leave you like this.” As he said this, he grabbed a lingering crimson ember from beside him, thrust it abruptly against the face of the grinning White-Haired Boy, and branded a large cross-shaped burn—

“Hahahaha.” “With this done, surely no one will recognize you as the true King Aimaru.” “Ah.” “Horse, come here, come here!”

When he beckoned it, the horse—which should have been frozen stiff like stone—now began moving with ease and came immediately to the king’s side. The king nimbly leapt onto it and, using the light from the Red Parrot’s eyes as his guide, dashed out of the forest. The blind and mute White-Haired Boy who remained behind—apparently unfazed by the earlier burn—wandered out of the forest with no destination in mind, his face swollen red and taut, grinning as he clutched the Four Tools.

Shifting focus—Kouya and the soldiers, who had earlier split into four directions to search for the Red Parrot, found nothing before day’s end. They hurried to the designated oak forest only to discover that while all others had now gathered, the crucial king was nowhere to be found. Realizing the gravity of the situation, they all leapt onto their horses at once and galloped into the dark mountains, shouting “King Aimaru-sama! King Aimaru-sama!” in unison. As they did, a blazing crimson torch came into view through the standing trees to the south.

Yet miraculously, the horses carrying forty mounted warriors froze in unison the instant they glimpsed this light, refusing to advance even a single step further. No matter how they struck or beat them, they wouldn’t budge. No matter how they kicked or spurred them, the horses had turned as hard as stone. Everyone was shocked and panicked, causing an uproar over what had happened, but among them, Kouya was especially astonished— “Men, be on guard!” “That light is suspicious!” “Depending on what’s happening, that might be a demon!” “All of you, dismount from your horses at once.” “Those with bows, nock your arrows.” “Those with swords, unsheathe them.” “Look there!” “It’s getting closer and closer.” “All of you, follow Kouya!” “When the signal is given, release your arrows and charge in unison!”

he shouted. In response to his voice, forty warriors dismounted from their horses all at once. Twenty drew their bows taut like full moons, while the remaining twenty readied their swords and poised to strike the glowing figure approaching them. But at this moment—too late for them, yet perfectly timed for him—Kouya shouted again: "Wait." "Don't act rashly." "It's the king!" he shouted. At that instant, they realized the figure approaching through the trees—grinning atop his horse with a red bird perched on his left fist—was King Aimaru returning. All soldiers simultaneously removed arrows from bows, sheathed swords, and prostrated themselves on the ground. Among them, Kouya sighed in relief—yet at the same moment, startled by the now-changed glow in the Red Parrot's eyes, he grew suspicious of what this alteration meant.

At that moment, the king halted his horse before everyone and, raising his left fist high—

“Men. “Behold.” “This is the Red Parrot—the bird we’ve been searching for until now!” “Until now, it had been in service to the mountain deity!” “I had gone to the cedar forest in his valley, had an audience with the deity, and had been taught how this bird would serve various wondrous purposes.” “Men, observe this well now!” As he said this, he turned toward the Red Parrot— “Oooh. The moon is out.” As soon as he instructed it, the blinding red light vanished in an instant, plunging all directions into pitch darkness. In its place, a large yellow moon—perfectly round—was rising through the trees to the east.

Everyone felt as though they were dreaming within a dream. Marveling at each other over that wondrous feat, they mounted horses that finally began to move at this moment, followed behind the king, and made their way back to the palace guided by the moonlight.

VIII: The Ivory Desk

The Imitation King Aimaru returned from the hunting grounds to the palace, finished his evening meal, immediately ordered his retainers to bring four new chairs to his chamber, and had them arranged around the ivory desk. Then, after dismissing his attendants to be alone, he firmly closed the entrance door, slid the bolt into place, and in the pitch darkness, shouted loudly—

“Parrot. “Parrot.” “Red Parrot”

he shouted.

Before his voice had even fully faded, a crimson light abruptly blazed forth from the corner of the chamber. With delighted wingbeats, the Red Parrot alighted upon the desk at the room's center—yet what met their eyes when they surveyed the interior by that crimson glow... Up until now, this chamber should have contained only King Aimaru himself—yet now, looking around, the four monsters who had been in the previous forest—the old man, the woman, the baby, and the Bald Monk—were seated properly facing each other on four chairs.

Among them, the old man was the first to speak with a withered voice— “Well now, Red Parrot—are you pleased?” “Are you pleased?” “At long last, this country has become ours.” “From now on, we’ll see whatever we want, hear whatever we want, speak whatever we want, and smell whatever we want—all to our heart’s content!” “Now then—how might we stir up great turmoil in this country hereafter and encounter strange and wondrous things?” “Red Parrot—think for us.” “Since you can consider not only present matters but even foresee future ones without error.” “First—as I emerged from the Stone Deity’s ear—my role is to listen to absolutely everything.” “Pray let me hear many fascinating tales.”

he said. Then the blue emaciated woman sitting beside him immediately negated his words—

“No. “I was born from the Stone Deity’s eye—my role is to see absolutely everything.” “I most earnestly wish to behold something fascinating soon.” “Red Parrot! Show me something wondrous and rare at once!”

Before the emaciated woman could finish saying this, the red-swollen baby on the opposite side interjected in a shrill voice—

“No!”

“No!” “No no!”

“It’s my turn first! My turn first!” “I want to smell beautiful fragrances.” “I want to smell fragrances—flowers and incense woods and such!” “Hurry! Hurry!” the baby cried out.

Then, not to be outdone, the Bald Monk seated right beside him also raised his voice in a shrill tone—

“Hold it! “I go first! “Since I was born from the Stone Deity’s tongue, I must be given delicious things first!” he insisted. The four remained like this for some time, locked in a silent staring contest, but upon seeing this state of affairs, the Red Parrot let out a strange sound and, cackling, declared—

“King of Ears. King of Eyes. King of Nose. King of Tongue. Pray attend well with your ears. Pray savor well with your tongues. None among you holds precedence. Nor does any follow after.” “I shall soon present something to astonish you all—something that will make every one of Your Majesties gasp ‘Ah!’” “Have you forgotten the three treasures born from the Stone Deity’s flesh at this world’s dawn—the Silver Mirror, the Jeweled Serpent, and my ordained role?” “Through the magic known to me since first I drew breath, it is my duty to observe and hear all worldly matters, then relay them to Your Majesties. The Silver Mirror—our sibling—bears the duty of showing Your Majesties such marvels. As for that Treasure Serpent—its role is to set intriguing events into motion.”

“Currently, both the Silver Mirror and Treasure Serpent lie submerged at the bottom of Lake Tarumi in the southern realm. Yet within those depths, the Treasure Serpent—desiring to offer Your Majesty a royal consort of such peerless beauty and wit that even Your Majesty would stand astonished—one worthy to serve as conversational companion for Your Majesty’s inaugural diversion upon gracing this land as King Aimaru after your four selves have merged into one—entrusted me with seeking her out.”

Upon hearing this, the Bald Monk clapped his hands in admiration— “Ah, I see—this was an excellent idea. “When our master Lord Stone Deity first deigned to come into this world, the foremost trouble he faced was that there was not a single person to converse with.” “If there had been even one conversational companion for him at that time, he would not have deigned to feel so lonely.” “And has that consort been found?” “Yes, three have been found.”

“And what are their names?” “How old are they?”

Then the remaining three pressed in with their questions.

“Yes. “The first one I found was Princess Koukouhime—eldest daughter of Minister Kouki and younger sister of Kouya—aged sixteen. “She is a gentle and quiet girl. “This girl recently made a promise with the true King Aimaru through her brother Kouya to become his consort; however, should Your Majesty deign to take this girl as your consort, this country shall know eternal peace, and Your Majesty shall reign upon the throne until the very end of this world.”

“What? So making Princess Koukouhime the consort will keep this country peacefully governed forever, you say?” “No. A quiet, gentle girl like that would make for a dreadfully dull conversational partner—how tedious that would be.” “We don’t like that sort of girl.” “Moreover, it would be unbearably dull if this country remained quiet forever.” “No matter what, there must be some great uproar—rare occurrences, dangerous events, and mysterious happenings must start one after another without ceasing!” And the Blue-Eyed Old Man flatly rejected it from the start.

Upon hearing this, the Red Parrot tilted its head as though troubled and fell silent. Since it seemed to be deep in thought for some time, the four grew impatient and—

“Look here, Red Parrot. “Then what kind of women are the remaining two girls?” “Let us hear it quickly.” “Where are they?” “What are they doing?”

they asked in unison. Urged in this manner, the Red Parrot had no choice but to answer— “Yes. Then I shall inform you: the remaining two are both maidens of unparalleled wisdom and beauty in this world. One is Mikure, the youngest daughter of Minister Kouki, and the other is Mirumo, daughter of a fisherman named Motori who dwells beside Lake Tarumi in the southern lands. However, as to which of those two will become the king’s consort—that I do not know. That is what I am considering.”

“What… I can’t tell which one.”

“Yes. “As for those two—from their facial features to their wisdom, education, stature, and even the number of hairs on their heads—there is not a single iota of difference between them. “Therefore, as to which woman holds the fate of becoming Your Majesty’s royal consort—there is now not the slightest means to distinguish between them.” “Hmm.”

“Then will we only know at the very end?”

“Yes. However, I believe we shall remain in ignorance until Your Majesty’s life comes to an end. The reason being—should King Aimaru deign to take either of those indistinguishable maidens as his royal consort—Your Majesty’s life shall inevitably come to an end within the coming year, just before the consort’s true identity is revealed. Moreover, my own life and that of the Mirror shall expire along with it. In exchange, during that time, every single day will be filled to the brim with mysterious tales and wondrous stories, making it far more entertaining than living a thousand years alongside Princess Koukouhime.”

“Hmm. That certainly sounds intriguing.” “But wouldn’t it be dreadfully dull if we don’t even know the true identity of the consort who lies at the heart of these intriguing events?” “It’s truly regrettable that while having gone to the trouble of appearing in this world as king and experiencing such intriguing events, he remains unaware of their origins.” “Even these intriguing events would only be half as enjoyable.” “Look here, Red Parrot.” “Is there no way for us to ascertain just the consort’s true identity?” “Is there no method to determine whether it’s Mirumo or Mikure?”

“Yes. If we speak of it as a matter of course, it is by no means possible, but there is one thing here—I am acquainted with a most wondrous magic.” “If Your Majesty would deign to permit the use of this magic, then even after departing from this world, Your Majesty would be able to clearly comprehend all matters occurring thereafter.” “If that is done, I believe Your Majesty will eventually come to understand whether your royal consort is Mirumo or Mikure.” “What? Even if we depart from this world.” “That’s a preposterous notion.” “If we depart from this world, must we not return to the old forest, close these eyes, block these ears, cease breathing through this nose, firmly shut this mouth, and sit still warming ourselves by the bonfire?” “Must we not be unable to see or hear anything at all?”

“No, no. That can indeed be done,” replied the Red Parrot. “Even while being slain in this world, I shall continue to observe and listen to worldly affairs in detail, relaying them to Your Majesty.” “What?” retorted the Blue-Eyed Old Man. “Then does this mean both you and we remain effectively alive?”

“Yes. I am living while dead, indeed.” “Hmm. That is a mysterious form of magic. Then what exactly does this magic accomplish?” “I shall now thoroughly consider and recount all that is yet to come. If Your Excellencies deign to close your eyes and listen to this account, it would be as though Your Excellencies were present at that very place, witnessing and hearing those events firsthand.”

When they heard this, the four clapped their hands in admiration— “I see—that’s a clever method. You will consider everything from this very moment to events far in the future and recount it all here. If we were listening to that, no matter how terrifying or perilous the events might be, we could safely delight in them. Even if welcoming such a perilous consort were to lead to the loss of life, since it’s fundamentally a story, there’s not the slightest issue. We will fully comprehend even the events far beyond what follows. We will undoubtedly come to know the consort’s true identity as well. Indeed—truly an ingenious scheme. Then tell us the story right now. Since all four of us will be listening together.”

“What manner of events shall now unfold?” “Will it be a joyous thing? A sorrowful thing?” “A delightful affair? A terrifying ordeal?” “Use that magic swiftly!” “The anticipation torments us!”

And the four pleaded in unison.

However, the Red Parrot did not begin speaking for some time. It listened intently, eyes gleaming, appearing to contemplate distant future events, but eventually preened its feathers and began to speak in a quiet, peculiar voice.

Part Two: The Underwater Mirror

9. The Lake's Secret

This Aimaru Country was divided into four nations: to the east lay Himiashi Country, to the west Yomashi Country, to the north Kamashi Country, and to the south Umashi Country—each governed by a king bearing that land’s name. Yet King Aimaru reigned above these four monarchs, uniting all territories under the singular title of Aimaru Country. Furthermore, Aimaru Country’s northern and western regions were surrounded by endless sandy plains, while its southern and eastern sides consisted of seas stretching beyond the horizon. However, particularly in the southern Umashi Country, there were numerous lakes and rivers, making it a place of thriving commerce. By the largest of these lakes, Lake Tarumi, there lived an old fisherman named Motori. Having lost his wife and two children early on, Motori now devoted himself wholeheartedly to his work while finding greatest joy in watching his only remaining daughter, Mirumo, grow up. Yet Mirumo was not merely a beautiful girl—she had also gained renown throughout neighboring villages as the foremost diving expert in their own. And so, while people in various places were speculating about who would become her husband, once Mirumo came of age, the rumors coalesced into one: Koushio, the second son of a fisherman named Ushio from the neighboring village—a young man skilled not only in diving but especially renowned as a master of the transverse flute, said to have been born clutching an iron flute from his mother’s womb—was deemed the most suitable match.

This rumor soon became reality. A meddlesome man intervened between both parties, and when he proposed the idea, both sets of parents and the two parties themselves gladly consented, and it was decided that the wedding would take place by the end of this autumn. The joy of both parents, relatives, Koushio, and Mirumo goes without saying. The villagers, too, had all been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the wedding day, counting down the moments, but just when only three weeks remained until that day, a grand proclamation—purportedly King Aimaru’s decree—was announced along the shore of this lake. The grand proclamation was as follows.

"The king had recently captured a rare red parrot—a bird seldom seen in this world." Through this parrot’s tale, it became known that a great treasure lay sunken at Lake Tarumi’s depths: a large mirror forged of silver. This mirror could freely capture and reproduce human forms—an artifact said to have emerged from the Stone Deity’s chest at the world’s dawn—and now His Majesty had declared he required it without fail. Therefore, among those dwelling by this lake’s shore, whoever excelled at diving must retrieve this mirror from the watery depths. As the mirror lay submerged at the lake’s deepest centerpoint—beyond ordinary reach—those who succeeded would receive their due: men rewarded with golden boats and women with silver ones, so decreed His Majesty. “Let any volunteer come forth—will none retrieve this mirror for their king?”

It was at the fish market located exactly halfway between the villages where Mirumo and Koushio lived that an official gathered a large crowd of people to announce this royal decree—and the very first to—

“Then I shall retrieve it.”

The one who made the request was none other than Mirumo, renowned as the village’s foremost diver. And alongside this, Koushio—Mirumo’s betrothed—also petitioned to retrieve the mirror together with her. Upon hearing this, the official rejoiced as if about to leap up; though he had already proclaimed the edict all around Lake Tarumi’s shores, he now lavished praise upon them, declaring that no other valiant youth or maiden like these two had yet stepped forward. In any case, he instructed them to make immediate preparations and retrieve it by the morrow, then departed back toward the capital. The villagers’ elation knew no bounds. For along this vast lake’s perimeter, no place besides these two villages would undertake such a momentous task—and moreover, those who had accepted it were the village’s most exemplary youth and its fairest maiden. Thus did all become more fervent than had they themselves been embarking on the quest, promptly setting about their preparations. Among them all, Mirumo’s father swelled with especial pride—

“How about that!” “Look at my daughter and son-in-law.” “They’re incredible!” “If those two go searching，they’ll find anything sunk in the deepest seas right away!” “No matter what fearsome fish comes，they’ll handle it!” “They both swim better than fish themselves!” “Ah，how splendid!” “Look at my daughter and her groom!” “Magnificent!” “Magnificent!”

he was wildly rejoicing.

The villagers first boiled plenty of hot water and purified the two’s bodies. Then they undid their hair and wrapped their bodies together with new cloth. And they made them eat newly prepared food, then quietly laid the two to rest within a newly made futon. And so, the next morning—before the sun had risen—they completed all manner of preparations: one boat carried the two divers wrapped in cloth, another was loaded with long ropes, and every last boat in the village was lavishly adorned with red and blue algae. When they swiftly hoisted their sails into the dawn wind blowing from shore, a surging cheer arose as they aligned their prows and set out toward the open waters.

At that moment, the wind was at their backs and there were no waves; the boat glided over the lake as swiftly as an arrow, so that before long, the shore disappeared from view, and by around noon, they had already traveled seventeen or eighteen ri, reaching precisely the middle of the lake. There, they lowered all their sails, lashed the boats tightly together to ensure they wouldn’t capsize even in a storm, and surrounded the central boats—the one carrying the two divers and the other loaded with ropes. At this moment, the two of them removed the cloth wrapped around their bodies, and after each tied a rope around their torso, they simultaneously dove from both sides of the boat—sending up tall plumes of spray—and sank into the deep blue waves.

Within this, Mirumo appeared far more skilled at diving than Koushio, kicking through the water well ahead of him while churning up silvery bubbles as she sank deeper—but with each descent, her surroundings gradually darkened. The fish she had been swimming among vanished completely, replaced by creatures she’d never seen before: fish covered entirely in gaping mouths, or with eyeballs sprouting tail-like appendages where fins should be. Eventually everything turned pitch black. Then glimmers like fireflies emerged in the distance, drawing steadily closer until they revealed themselves as fish of grotesque forms—some bearing human heads, others sporting bird legs or wolfish tails. These aberrations flickered like blue lanterns across the gloom, their eerie luminescence making the scene grow ever more unsettling. Overwhelmed by terror, Mirumo nearly resolved to turn back—but then steeled herself—

"There’s no use being this timid."

Wasn't I here to verify whether that dream from before was true or false? Hadn't I specifically petitioned the officials and come to see whether that mirror from his Stone Deity's chest truly existed? If the mirror really lay at this lake's bottom, and if we could find the treasure serpent from his Stone Deity's song as described, then surely that recent dream was true—I must be the reincarnation of Princess Mirume from the dream, destined to become queen in time.

And then wouldn’t I understand the continuation of that fascinating Stone Deity story? If I stopped and turned back now, it would all be for nothing. Wouldn’t I just become the same old fisherman’s daughter again, unable to see or hear anything interesting or fun? I couldn’t turn back even if I died. And if I were to become queen, there’d be no way I’d get eaten by fish here. If I couldn’t become queen, it’d be better to get eaten and die here and now. Since this was all a test of fate, I’d just keep going as far as I could and see.

Summoning her courage, she sank even deeper into the abyss. Then once more, the surroundings began to change—no shadows remained visible, and the water grew cold as a corpse's skin, still and motionless. Such terror and eeriness. "In truth," I thought, "having those earlier fish with frightful forms nearby would have been far less lonely." But she seemed to have passed through even that darkness, for in the far depths below appeared something glowing beautifully. Ah! That must be where the mirror lies! As she parted the water and dove deeper still, her surroundings soon grew radiantly beautiful—bright enough to awaken even the dullest eyes. There in the lake's profound depths, within crystal-clear emerald waters, smooth-glowing algae grew thick with multicolored blooms. Between them swam fish emitting dazzling light, churning golden-silver bubbles as they fluttered about in confusion—some curiously rolling their eyeballs to peer at Mirumo's face, others affectionately brushing against her body.

Within this space that appeared to be the lake's bottom, she came to a place where countless jewels lay spread across the expanse, emitting various pure lights. Since this was Mirumo's first time visiting such a mysteriously beautiful place since birth, she spent a while gazing in ecstasy as if dreaming, overwhelmed by wonder—but then she recalled the mirror. What kind of exquisitely strange treasure must this mirror be, concealed in such a splendid location? While thinking "I want to find it quickly," she once again parted the long deep algae, scattered away the fish, and advanced across the jewels—when soon, within an exceptionally beautiful algae forest ahead, a human figure flickered into view. Thinking "Has Mr. Koushio already arrived?" she hurriedly turned toward that direction—whereupon it seemed he had noticed her too, for he began rushing toward her. As she gradually drew closer within that space, what she had mistaken for Koushio turned out instead to be a princess of breathtaking beauty—utterly identical in every detail to Princess Mirume from his dream—walking toward her in silence, completely alone. Now struck anew by this beauty, Mirumo involuntarily halted—whereupon the figure across, having noticed Mirumo's presence, stopped walking with a surprised expression. Mirumo thought: This must certainly be Princess Mirume from my dream appearing to show me where the mirror lies. And so I realized I was still just ordinary Mirumo—no princess or anything of the sort—and overwhelmed by shame, hid my face in my hands. The figure across likewise pressed hands to its face. Having her actions mimicked, Mirumo grew increasingly embarrassed; when she plopped down onto the jewels, the other side similarly plopped down. Thinking "Huh?" she stood up to look across—the figure across likewise rose and gazed back. When she experimentally moved both hands, the other side moved them too. When she stepped forward, the other side stepped as well.

When she thought "Ah!" and approached to look, this was unmistakably the Silver Mirror; what she had until now believed to be Princess Mirume was in fact her own figure reflected on the other side. Overwhelmed by shock, Mirumo lost all sense of self and nearly cried out—but in that instant, cold water flooded into her mouth, jolting her back to awareness that she remained submerged at the lake’s bottom. And so, while her limbs trembled violently, she became entranced, gazing at the wonder before her eyes. Mirumo had until now been a lowly fisherman’s daughter who had never once concerned herself with her appearance. Moreover, in this country since ancient times, there had been neither those who had seen nor heard of such a thing as a mirror—in other words, this was her first time seeing her own form. Thus, it was no wonder she was so astonished.

So this was my true form? Had I truly been Princess Mirume all along? Was I always this beautiful? This noble? To even be called a fisherman’s daughter seemed beneath me now. This beauty—this nobility and grace—would suit a queen far better. Ah, what radiant splendor! And when I realized I was indeed fated to become queen as foretold in that dreamt book, I could no longer distinguish joy from terror. Overcome, I collapsed onto the jewels and desperately fought to steady my reeling mind.

Once she had finally calmed herself, she drew near the mirror once more and gazed intently at her own reflection—but the more she looked, the more beautiful she appeared, so much so that she hardly seemed to belong to this mortal world. While possessing such beautiful features, while being of such noble bearing—if I had not seen his dream, would I have made it my life’s work to live in his low, dark house, tread barefoot through that mud, and grab his smelly fish? Though my appearance is beautiful, though my flute skills are masterful—was it truly my fate to become the wife of Koushio, that mere fisherman’s son clad in his filthy garments, and live out a dreary existence? Ah, what a waste. What a waste. Leaving this mirror and these jewels sunk at the bottom of the sea was an even greater waste than that. By some means, I want to marry into a far nobler household that suits me and become queen exactly as depicted in his illustrations. I want to become the royal consort to His Majesty the Emperor of Aimaru Country—to make this appearance even more beautiful and noble—and flaunt it before all the people in the land. When I think about it, since I was the first among all women in the world to see my reflection in this mirror, perhaps it sank here to wait for me—to raise me to such a station. No, that must certainly be it. That must be it. “Yes, yes!”—in an instant, Mirumo’s resolve transformed. Now convinced she was already queen, she cast off the rope tied around her waist and everything else, and peered once more into the mirror with a serene smile—her beauty terrifying in its intensity. The light of the jewels that had been shining all around dimmed all at once. At that moment, a small snake slithered slimily down from the mirror and slipped into Mirumo’s hair. The snake was made entirely of jewels, its eyes emitting the radiance of topaz, its ruby tongue flicking out repeatedly. When this snake coiled like a crown atop Mirumo’s purple hair and abruptly raised its head, Mirumo’s heart leaped with excitement—for now, the tales of the Stone Deity’s red parrot, the mirror, and the snake were no mere dreams but real, and moreover, she had been the first to discover all three. Convinced that this was undoubtedly an omen of her becoming queen, she stood up and danced frantically around the mirror, overwhelmed with joy.

10. The Living Skeleton

But as for the other side—it was Koushio. It appeared Koushio was less skilled at diving than Mirumo, for he sank considerably later than her; yet within that descent, he too came upon a terrifying place akin to what Mirumo had previously traversed. But this time, it wasn’t only creatures of terrifying form. Not just sharks and sawfish—but creatures with bodies lined with blades and sea serpents bearing spiked scales gathered and surged toward him, churning up violent whirlpools as they attacked. Koushio desperately knocked them away with his fists and kicked them apart with his feet, alternately pursuing and being pursued as he pressed deeper toward the bottom. By the time he finally escaped that swarm of fish, his body had gone limp and battered—his chest aching, vision swimming—leaving him on death’s doorstep. But if he turned back now, it would bring utter disgrace before the villagers, his parents, siblings, and Mirumo—and above all, mean defying the king’s royal command. Resolving firmly that he had to press on even if it killed him, he frantically drove his limbs forward. The agony—the anguish. From that torment, Koushio’s body rapidly shed its flesh until his face withered like an old man’s. Before finally reaching the bottom, he lost consciousness; hands and feet motionless, he sank rapidly until settling upon the jewels beside the mirror.

Upon finding this, Mirumo—who in earlier times would have rushed over in alarm to rescue him—now refrained from such actions, for her disposition had undergone a complete transformation. When she caught sight of Koushio’s face—so drastically altered that it repelled her—she became all the more convinced she could never become the wife of someone who now looked like a demon.

If I were caught by Koushio here, I wouldn’t be able to escape or become queen. She was momentarily troubled over what to do but calmed herself and approached for a closer look—since he appeared completely dead—then let out a sigh of relief. Nodding faintly, she gently lifted Koushio and propped him against the mirror. Then she found the end of the rope she had earlier discarded and tightly bound Koushio’s body to the mirror by coiling it around them. After pulling the rope three times forcefully to signal those waiting above to haul it up, she herself parted the algae and slipped away across the lakebed into the depths.

The three tugs of the rope that Mirumo pulled were clearly conveyed to Motori, who waited on the boat holding both ends of the rope. At this signal, four or five handpicked strong young men scrambled over, grabbed the rope, and began pulling with all their might—but alas! The rope remained taut without rising an inch. Realizing this wasn't working, four or five more people latched onto the rope—yet still it didn't budge. So this time they set up a pre-prepared pulley on the boat, hooked the rope onto it, and when twenty to thirty people combined their strength to begin winding it up, the rope finally started rising two or three sun at a time. With Motori and Ushio—now frenzied with excitement at this success—leading the chant, everyone pulled in rhythm with *heave-hos*, but still the rope only rose two or three sun each time. And yet most strangely of all, neither Koushio—who should have finished securing the mirror—nor Mirumo showed even a shadow upon the waves.

Within that time, the short autumn day had completely set.

The parents and relatives who had until now been staring intently at the sea’s surface, hoping against hope that Koushio would resurface or that Mirumo would emerge, had at last reached the point where they could do nothing but resign themselves to the fact that both were dead. The grief of both parents was natural, but the sorrow and astonishment of the villagers were no ordinary matter. No matter how skilled one might be at diving, there was simply no way they could remain alive underwater for such an extended period.

But perhaps they had surfaced between the boats? Or even if they had been devoured by vicious fish, at least some strands of their hair ought to have floated up. No, they weren't floating up because they weren't dead. No, even if they were dead, they probably wouldn't float up.

The villagers began debating fervently—"Maybe it’s like this," "Perhaps it’s like that"—treating the matter as their own personal concern, but at that moment, Ushio and Motori finally regained their composure and cried out in unison to the crowd—

“Everyone, please listen. “We have properly resigned ourselves. “The two must have become prey to wicked fish while returning after finding the mirror underwater and securing the rope. “Otherwise they would have resurfaced long before now. “Had we known this would happen, we would have given them at least one blade from the beginning. “But there’s no use grieving now. What matters most is retrieving the far more crucial mirror.”

“This mirror stands in place of those two! It was their most precious memento! It was His Majesty the King’s coveted treasure! Now then—we know it’s been grueling, everyone—keep your spirits up and pull! Pull!”

As they made this plea while brushing away tears, the villagers, encouraged, rose their weary bodies, wiping their tears together, and once again took hold of the rope. Then, they pulled through the entire night, but the rope still rose only two or three inches at a time. At last, through the entirety of the following day, then all through the next night, and again through the day after that—with great crowds taking turns—they pulled the rope while wailing “oi-oi.” Finally, on the evening of the third day, as the rope grew scarce, strangely enough, the sky—which until then had shown not a single cloud—suddenly darkened as if ink had been spilled across it. At once, thunder began roaring, wind blew fiercely, and rain poured down in sheets. Upon the sea, waves rose like thousands of white and black horses galloping wildly, threatening to crush all the many lashed-together boats in an instant. However, this time, the people did not lose heart in the least. If they did not retrieve this mirror now, both Koushio and Mirumo’s deaths would be in vain, and the king’s wish would come to naught. Even if they died, they had to haul up this mirror—first and foremost, it would be inexcusable to the two who had perished—and so they pulled with desperate frenzy past midnight. Then, amid their efforts, the rain ceased and the wind died down, until only lightning flickered over the churning waves in the distance.

Soon after, something large and pitch-black emerged on the sea’s surface and collided with the ship’s side with a heavy *thud*. At this signal, they all rushed to lend their hands and hauled it onto the deck. Just then, another gust of wind burst forth, tearing apart the black clouds in the sky. Moonlight as clear as polished silver suddenly streamed down, illuminating for the first time the true form of what they had pulled up. When they saw it, they let out a collective scream and recoiled in terror.

Bathed in spray from waves churning pitch-black and pure white, what lay collapsed on the deck was a Silver Mirror—terrifyingly radiant at first glance—glinting as it reflected the moonlight. And there at its center lay something akin to a living skeleton—the flesh of its face and limbs having fallen away, its wet hair disheveled, eyes bulging and teeth bared—gasping for breath as it sprawled on its back. The villagers, overwhelmed by its ghastly horror, all plopped down where they stood—unable to speak for a time, their bodies rigid—but the monster before them continued its labored breathing, lips whistling like a flute. Eventually untangling the rope around its body with one hand, it rose to its feet, scanned its surroundings, and in a shriveled voice—

“Has Mirumo returned?” he asked.

At that moment, those white teeth, shining in the moonlight, appeared to be mockingly laughing at everyone. Upon hearing this voice, Old Man Motori and Ushio—who had been paralyzed with fear until now—became utterly convinced that this creature must be the monster that had killed Koushio and Mirumo. Suddenly energized, they rose to their feet— “You monster! Mirumo and Koushio aren’t coming back!” “You probably ate them, didn’t you?” [they] glared at him as if about to lunge.

Upon hearing that voice, the monster suddenly looked delighted— “Oh! You who speak such words—Father—it’s me, Koushio! And you say Mirumo still hasn’t returned?” His voice was already trembling. The two were startled upon hearing “Koushio,” but since they could never conceive of such a monster being him, they shouted in unison— “Don’t spout nonsense! Koushio isn’t a monster like you!” “That’s impossible! I am Koushio. I am Koushio!”

While saying this, he tried frantically to rush toward Ushio's side, but just then—as moonlight once again streamed through gaps in the clouds—his own form was vividly reflected in the mirror. When he caught a glimpse of that figure, the monster—now startled by its own appearance—let out a shriek, rolled its eyes back, and plunged headlong once more into the churning waves of all sizes. And afterward, only the Silver Mirror remained behind, gleaming vividly in the moonlight.

Eleven: The Gold and Silver Boats Koushio, having taken on a wretched form, miraculously prolonged his life and once appeared before the people, but pitifully mistaken for a monster, sank back into the lake’s waves once more. Mirumo also never showed herself, having sunk into the lake from the very beginning. Because it was finally determined that both had died, the people tearfully rowed their boats back toward shore. Carrying the memento mirror of their children—what must have been the state of their hearts as the two sets of parents rowed along? And what thoughts filled the villagers from both sides as they loaded that mirror onto a cart and sent it to the capital? Eventually arriving at His Majesty the King’s palace in Aimaru’s capital, they were granted an audience in the grand hall. When they recounted how this mirror had been retrieved, among the many nobles who had come to behold this extraordinary object, not a single soul remained dry-eyed. And so His Majesty the King bestowed abundant rewards upon both villages’ people, granting Koushio’s and Mirumo’s parents one golden boat and one silver boat each as promised before sending them home—yet the parents lamented, saying how overjoyed their children would have been had they lived to see these gold-and-silver vessels.

King Aimaru, once this audience had concluded, immediately summoned Minister Kouki and issued two commands. The first was to hang this mirror on the wall of his chamber and adorn its surroundings with splendid decorations. The second was to issue a proclamation throughout the country concerning His Majesty King Aimaru-sama's deigning to welcome a royal consort, declaring that the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the entire country would be selected. Therefore, within one week from now, they were to rigorously select and present to the palace one maiden—the most beautiful and wise—from each of the four countries of the east, west, south, and north. It was ordered to inform them that on the morning of the seventh day, His Majesty King Aimaru-sama himself would make the selection.

The first command was executed when the most renowned decorators and jewelers in the capital arrived at the palace with many apprentices and completed the task within that very day. Then, the second proclamation was written on a copper plate, handed over to four soldiers skilled in horsemanship, and they were immediately dispatched to the royal palaces of the four countries.

King Aimaru, unable to wait for the mirror’s installation to be completed, immediately entered his chamber alone and bolted the entrance door tightly from the inside. After closing all four windows tightly and plunging the room into total darkness, the Red Parrot—which until now had been perched motionlessly on a wooden beam in the corner—suddenly emitted a crimson light, flew over, and alighted upon the king’s head. When its eye-light illuminated the submerged mirror’s surface, the mirror rapidly clouded over with a greenish hue, and soon Princess Mikure’s figure faintly materialized within it—there she was, shut away in her own chamber, elbow propped on her desk as she gazed out the window, utterly lost in thought. At this moment, the Red Parrot let out a loud cry—

“Your Majesty. “Your Majesty.” “Your Majesty, behold.” Princess Mikure’s figure. Princess Mikure’s figure. Kouki’s daughter. “Princess Mikure’s figure.” Upon hearing this, the King smiled faintly and— “Ah.” “Is this Princess Mikure?” “Indeed, this is a beautiful and clever-looking girl.” He had just said this when Princess Mikure within the mirror turned toward him and stared fixedly at his face—but no sooner had this occurred than her chamber, desk, and kimono vanished entirely. What remained of her figure became an exact replica of Mirumo peering into the mirror amidst a seaweed forest in the sea. At this moment, the Red Parrot once again let out a loud cry—

“Your Majesty.” “Your Majesty.” “Your Majesty, behold.” Mirumo’s figure. Mirumo’s figure. Mitori’s daughter. “Mirumo’s figure.” Mirumo, seeing the King’s figure from within the mirror, smiled faintly—and the King, upon seeing this, also smiled faintly—

“Oh. “Is this Mirumo’s figure?” “I see.” “There’s not the slightest difference from Princess Mikure.” “And what sort of man was this Koushio who had been Mirumo’s betrothed?”

he leaned forward. Then, before long, Mirumo’s figure vanished from the mirror’s surface, and this time appeared the figure of a hideous, dreadful skeleton-like monster. The scene showed precisely the boat from which they had retrieved the mirror; upon raging waves where moonlight shone fiercely upon the monster’s form. "What’s this?" "Is this Koushio—the wretch betrothed to Mirumo?" "What a horrifying visage!" "If this creature learns Mirumo has become my queen now," "he would surely bear me bitter resentment." "Ah! This amuses me well." "Red Parrot! Red Parrot! Devise means—I charge you—to keep this thing undying." "And make him defy me! Raise great tumult!" "To slaughter such rare grotesquery without mercy" "would strip our tale of savor." "A monster most fit for opposition!"

he shouted. Then, the Red Parrot answered quietly—

“Understood.” “Even without your command, Koushio’s fate will surely come to pass as such.”

Before these words had even fully ended, the scene within the mirror changed once more—this time revealing a wide street that began to come into view. Both sides of this street appeared to be some sort of vegetable market, where a great crowd of people were busily selling, buying, and transporting fresh vegetables and fruits. Then, as if lost, the White-Haired Boy arrived. Upon looking, his face was burned and festered as before, with eyes and nose indistinguishable. He wore filthy clothes, had bells and a lute bundled around his neck, carried a flute without holes in his left hand, and held a book devoid of writing in his right. Because his appearance was unusual, a large crowd of children followed behind him, pelting him with stones and mud like rain, but the White-Haired Boy showed no sign of pain or distress—smiling cheerfully as usual, he stood vacantly without attempting to flee. Then another man emerged—his limbs and face wrapped in tattered cloth—and, perhaps pitying the White-Haired Boy’s plight, chased the children away in all directions. He approached the boy, took his hand, and seemed about to lead him elsewhere when, in that instant, the cloth covering his face slipped loose. It was none other than Koushio, his features half-rotted. At the horror of his visage, every last person gathered there—adults and children alike—were terrified out of their wits and scattered in panicked flight.

In the meantime, as Koushio and the White-Haired Boy hurriedly left the area, no one came there for some time afterward. Then, wondrously, one of the kelp baskets laid out before her eyes began to squirm on its own, and when it soon toppled over sideways, from within emerged Mirumo—who had vanished after diving into the sea—with only her head poking out as she intently surveyed her surroundings. Looking around, she saw that no one was there, and in the alleyway right before her lay a gray cloak, a brown hood with a black mask, fur gloves, and wooden clogs—all discarded by the fruit vendor’s old woman who had fled upon seeing Koushio’s form. She stole these items, swiftly donned them, and transformed herself completely into an old woman. Then, after looking around once more and confirming that no one had yet arrived, she grabbed a nearby fruit basket, gathered various fruits into it, hid them beneath her cloak, and reached for the cash box beside her. At that very moment, for some reason, the mirror’s surface abruptly darkened until nothing could be seen—and then, as if startled by something, the Red Parrot, which until now had remained motionless atop the King’s head, suddenly flapped noisily down and hid beneath the desk.

Twelve: The Three Edicts

Upon seeing this, King Aimaru suddenly made an unpleasant face and rose from his chair—

“What’s this? “What.” “Is there something you hate approaching outside the door?” “There, there.” “You stay hidden there.” “I’ll drive it away.”

As he said this, he hurriedly threw open all the windows around him and came to the door—

“Who’s there? Who approaches?” As he said this，he opened the door.

Outside stood the Blue-Eyed Old Man in a yellow kimono, bowing respectfully. “What? “You? “And what business brings you here? “Have you come to steal the mirror from me again, like with the parrot before? “The mirror’s consecration rite was completed ages ago—it’s fixed to my parlor wall! “Or have you some other errand? “Out with it!” he pressed, voice sharpening. The Blue-Eyed Old Man lifted his gaze to meet the King’s eyes, then suddenly let tears fall as he spoke—

“Alas. Your Majesty. As Your Majesty has surmised, my coming here concerns precisely that mirror. I hear Your Majesty refused to heed my dissuasions and had that Silver Mirror from the water’s depths retrieved and installed in your parlor. Oh, what a dreadful thing Your Majesty has done!” “Have you already forgotten the ancient edicts of this land that I previously informed you of?” “Those who steal human voices. Those who steal human forms. Those who steal human lifeblood. These three are demons. Destroy them wherever found. Kill them.”

“The only reason this country has until now had not a single parrot stealing human voices, nor a mirror stealing human forms, nor a snake stealing lifeblood is because people have obeyed this edict—” “Enough drivel! Silence!” The King rebuked harshly. “I knew that long ago without hearing it from you! I won’t keep being fooled by you like before! You call what aren’t demons ‘demons’ to make me a fool! Thanks to this parrot, I can hear every voice worldwide without moving from my seat! Thanks to this mirror, I can see any event across the globe whenever I choose! With these two treasures, I’ve become the world’s wisest man! Yet you try to forcibly take these precious things from me—to lock me sleeping in the palace—to make me the world’s greatest fool! You’re this nation’s foremost traitor! Think carefully! Is it better for the world’s biggest fool—knowing nothing—to remain king? Or for the world’s wisest man—omniscient—to rule? Which is preferable?”

“Yes. It would indeed be this country’s prosperity for a wise person such as Your Majesty to reign as king.” “See there! And for what reason did you try to turn this me into a fool who knows nothing? For what reason are you trying to keep the parrot and mirror from entering the royal palace?” “Alas, Your Majesty.” “That is an impossibility.” “Your Majesty has always been a wise and revered king since time immemorial without using such mirrors or parrots.” “Moreover, ever since those mirrors and parrots arrived here—they have dazzled Your Majesty’s eyes and deafened Your Majesty’s ears…”

“Silence! Silence! These two things have never once deceived me up until now! And you dare call these two things demons or whatnot, you insolent fool! What evidence do you have that these two are demons? Show me the evidence!” “The evidence has been passed down since ancient times—these Three Edicts themselves are the greatest proof…” “Hahaha!”

And the King suddenly burst into loud laughter. And then, with a malicious glare fixed on the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s face, he inquired— “Who created those edicts?”

“Yes， Your Majesty， that was left behind by my ancestor—one likewise called Blue-Eyed.”

“Hmm. So that’s how it is.” “And why did that ancestor establish these three as demons?” “Is there some profound reason for designating these three as demons?” “Without a profound reason, there can be no justification for arbitrarily declaring such invaluable things demons.” “Explain that reason in detail!” When King Aimaru’s words struck him, the Blue-Eyed Old Man inexplicably turned deathly pale—even his lips losing their color in the blink of an eye. And with that, his limbs trembling violently, he became unable to respond at all, only widening those blue eyes more roundly as he stared fixedly at the King’s face. Seeing this state, the King grew even more emboldened. Taking a step closer to the Blue-Eyed Old Man, he glared with an increasingly stern expression and declared—

“Hey, Blue-Eyed. “Why aren’t you answering?” “Why can’t you state that evidence?” “Now, state that evidence!” “Explain that reasoning!” “Why are those three beings demons?” “Why are this mirror and parrot fragments of demons?” “You’ve never hidden a single thing from me until now, have you?” “Speak!” “Speak!” “Explain why those Three Edicts were established!” And the King pressed him with razor-sharp words. Yet the more fiercely the King pressed, the more violently the Blue-Eyed Old Man shrank back and trembled—until at last he could no longer stand and collapsed onto the floor. The King watched this intently but continued rebuking him in a solemn tone—

“Blue-Eyed. “Hey, Blue-Eyed. “Why are you so afraid? “Why are you trembling like that? “Why are you hiding those details from me? “I can’t make heads or tails of what you’re doing! “You’ve been asking whether I saw some unseen dream lately, trying to steal such precious things from me and kill an innocent parrot, or attempting to smash this invaluable mirror that many risked their lives to retrieve. “For me, there exists no treasure as precious, noble, and treasured as this! “Why do you detest it so vehemently? And when ordered to explain those details, he turned deathly pale and trembled violently. Why on earth would he say and do such strange things? Not a single thing made sense anymore. Why do you hide things like that? “Why are you so afraid? “Now, speak! “Now, answer me! “Confess everything!”

The King stared even more sharply at the Blue-Eyed Old Man as he said this. However, the Blue-Eyed Old Man still did not reply, his eyes remaining wide open. After staring fixedly at that face, the King eventually smiled gently and said—

“Ha ha, I see! Now I understand why you’re hiding it! Now I see why you’re trembling in fear! Of course you’d hide it! Of course you can’t say it! Because those edicts are lies after all! From your ancestors down through the generations to you—you’ve all been fabricating rootless, leafless lies to keep these precious and divine treasures away from me, scheming to make yourselves alone the wisest in the world!”

“No, that is absolutely not the case! A demon remains eternally a demon! Please—I implore you, Your Majesty—what I meant to convey was…” The Blue-Eyed Old Man interjected frantically.

“Shut up! Blue-Eyed. You keep trying to deceive me no matter what! You’re the demon here! No—you’re a demon! You’re undoubtedly a demon! Your family has passed down lies through generations, became my guardians, concocted false edicts, kept these precious things away, and schemed to turn me into a clueless fool in the end. I will no longer listen to a word you say. I had this parrot tell me everything in the world. Also, I had this mirror show me everything in the world. Thanks to them, I have become much wiser. There’s nothing more delightful than this! There’s nothing more blessed than this! You, who have tried again and again to keep everything from me until now—you’re a great traitor! Hey, soldiers! Take this wretch out of the palace! From this moment forth—until I grant permission—you shall not set foot in the palace!”

With that, he slammed the door shut. The Blue-Eyed Old Man suddenly sat bolt upright, clung to the door that had just been closed, and began to weep like a man.

This was the first time the Blue-Eyed Old Man saw King Aimaru in such a violent, madness-tinged state. And this was also the first time he was mocked and reviled with such merciless words. Overwhelmed, he clung to the door, unable to wipe away his flowing tears—

“Your Majesty.” “Your Majesty.” “Your Majesty—have you taken leave of your senses?” “Until so recently, you were so gentle, so nobly present—how could you have changed to harbor such pitiful and base inclinations?” “This must be because those two fiends—the Silver Mirror and Red Parrot—have led Your Majesty’s noble heart astray.” “I beg of you, Your Majesty.” “Deign to calm Your noble heart and deign to heed what I say…”

he pleaded breathlessly, but it was all in vain. No response came from beyond the door; instead, he was dragged away by the corridor guards and driven out through the palace gate.

However, shortly after Master Seigan was taken away, once again the Red Parrot began shrieking—

“Ah ah, Your Majesty, it appears Kouya comes seeking audience with you now.” “He has mounted his horse at home and even now makes his way toward your hall.” “The matter bringing Kouya here concerns naught else.” “Long ago did Kouya receive a solemn vow from King Aimaru of old - that his first younger sister Princess Koukouhime should be given as queen. Though unspoken within his household, both siblings had long cherished this expectation.” “Yet Kouya had been about his father’s affairs in northern Kamitari Country until this day’s return. Hearing Your Majesty’s morning proclamation - that queens would be chosen from foreign lands - and being ever devoted to his sister, he felt struck as by dream-shock. Straightway he comes to verify the truth of this royal decree.” “Even now Kouya bids the corridor guards announce him.” “Deign to hear this accounting.”

Before the words had even finished, soldiers’ voices came from beyond the door— “Lord Kouya has arrived.” resounded clearly.

The king immediately replied―

“No one is yet permitted to enter this chamber.” “If you have business, come back later.” Kouya, who had been listening to these words outside the door, felt as though he were dreaming within a dream. For Kouya too, just as Master Seigan had, this was the first time he had received such violent, brusque words from the king. Even without this, Kouya—whose chest was already swelled with thoughts of Princess Koukouhime—instinctively clung to the door and shouted—

“Your Majesty. “Your Majesty. “Your Majesty—what has come over you? “Why would you utter such a heartless thing? “It is I, Kouya. “It is I, Kouya. “I earnestly beg you to grant me just one audience. “It concerns my sister Koukouhime—there is a matter I must absolutely inform you about.” “What about Koukouhime?” “Huh?! “Your Majesty—have you already forgotten? “Your Majesty—have you forgotten his promise?”

“I have not forgotten. But I’ve grown to detest keeping promises. The king of yesterday and the king of today are different people. I don’t have to keep such promises. If you wish to make that Princess Koukouhime your queen, present her at the palace alongside women from all nations within a week from today—exactly as previously proclaimed throughout the land. If I take a liking to her, I’ll make her queen. Go back and inform your sister of that matter, and have her make preparations. Make one mistake and I won’t forgive you. That is all. Leave.”

And they were utterly lawless words. Until this day, Kouya had believed the king—whom he had admired and cherished more than his parents, more than his sisters, more than anyone else; a sovereign without peer in heaven or earth, compassionate and noble—to be all these things. Yet now he realized that heart had become more merciless than any demon, baser than any beast, and even his voice had grown as ferocious as a tiger’s roar. On top of this, regarding Princess Koukouhime—whom he had until now looked forward to above all else—the King himself had made a promise, then himself broken it, now ordering her to be presented within a week alongside shameless lowborn women from various nations for an audience. Ah, what a base command this was! Overwhelmed by grief and helplessness, Kouya lost all sense of reason. Unable even to weep, he clawed frantically at his hair and bolted headlong from the palace.

Thirteen: The Hoofbeats of the Famed Horse

When Kouya rushed out of the palace, the king immediately turned to the mirror again and ordered it to show him how Mirumo had transformed into an old woman. But before the mirror could show anything, the king suddenly heard a dreadful noise and cried out—

“What’s that? “What’s that noise?” “The rumble of thunder?” “Is that hail?” “No! No!” “It’s a horse’s hooves.” “Such thunderous hoofbeats!” “What a swift horse!” Ah—it circled around the palace along the streets again. Why would a rider circle this palace at midnight? Could such a fast horse exist? Is that rider some unknown demon? Ah—twice around already. Now a third time. This—the Silver Mirror.”

“Red Parrot.” “You need no longer show me Mirumo’s whereabouts.” “Show me that horse and its rider instead—and quickly!” “Ah—it has already circled three times.” “So fast! So fast!” “Who is that?!” “Who is that?!” he asked with bated breath. Before these words had even finished, a bolt of light shot from the Red Parrot’s eyes like lightning, and the mirror’s surface abruptly clouded over in green. And then no sooner had it flashed and cleared than the figure of a boy on horseback appeared. It was Kouya, who had earlier left the palace.

When Kouya realized that King Aimaru—whom he had respected more than his parents and been closer to than his siblings—had become a heart more merciless than any demon, a voice fiercer than any tiger’s roar, and now did not spare even a dewdrop’s worth of thought for his sister, he was so shocked and grief-stricken that he rushed from the palace like a madman. Immediately mounting Shun, the finest steed in the land tethered there, he seized the reins and kicked the horse’s flank with his spurs so violently they seemed fit to tear through flesh. Now Shun—who until this moment had never even seen the shadow of a whip—startled at his master’s unexpected rough handling, became just as frantic himself, reared up with a piercing neigh, and bolted forward in a single leap.

Yet Kouya did not notice how startled Shun was, nor how swiftly the horse was running. The king’s harsh words and voice still seemed to ring in his ears, and the image of Princess Koukouhime’s face when he would return home and tell her this now appeared vividly before his eyes—his chest felt as though it were being ripped apart. And thinking that it would be best if he and this horse together plunged off a high cliff to their deaths right then and there, he released both hands from the reins, clawed at his hair, gazed up at the star-bright sky while kicking the horse’s flanks again and again, and drove recklessly through the deserted streets of the capital.

Then the horse grew increasingly panicked. Foaming at the mouth with its mane erect and hooves kicking skyward, it circled round and round the palace six or seven times in an instant. Upon reaching the seventh lap, it emerged onto the broad avenue before the royal castle and dashed headlong down the highway leading south to Umisoku Country.

The more the horse ran, the more Kouya’s spirits seemed to lift—so he continued letting it gallop on unchecked. As this went on, night gave way to dawn, and something white glowing came into view in the far distance. This was a lake, and as it appeared exceedingly large, Kouya reined in his horse for the first time and addressed a passing old woman—

“Granny, “What is that lake called?” he asked. The old woman completely hid her face beneath a hood and mask, propping herself up with a short staff in one hand while carrying a heavy basket of fruit in the other as she shuffled unsteadily along, appearing thoroughly exhausted. But when Kouya now posed this question to her, she came to a halt and—with visible effort—straightened her hunched back―

“Yes. “That is Lake Tarumi.” she informed him. Kouya was astonished to find he had come so much farther than expected—

“What?” “That’s Lake Tarumi?” “This is unbelievable!” “Then the southern country’s capital is no longer far away.” “Then it’s about time we head back.”

He turned the horse’s head around to depart, but then abruptly noticed how utterly exhausted this old woman appeared— “Granny, where are you headed?”

he asked. The old woman, who had been intently observing Kouya from beneath her mask, let out an utterly exhausted sigh and replied that she was someone living near Lake Tarumi; having heard the king would soon welcome a queen, she was bringing fruits from her garden tree in a basket as a congratulatory offering. Hearing this, Kouya remembered Princess Koukouhime—ah, if only his sister could receive such an offering, how delighted she would be—and felt his chest tighten with emotion. Yet now deeply moved by the old woman's dutiful spirit and increasingly pitying her exhaustion, he suggested that since he too had come this far from the capital for a stroll and was about to return, it would be perfect—he would take her on his horse to where the inn stood. The old woman repeatedly declined. However, she ultimately could not refuse Kouya's kind words and was placed on the saddle's front wheel to be carried toward the capital.

Kouya, thinking the old woman might grow dizzy, deliberately kept the horse at a slow walk—but this old woman proved remarkably adept at conversation. Noticing Kouya’s pallid complexion, she kindly pressed him with questions until he unwittingly divulged everything: his anxieties over Princess Koukouhime, how His Majesty the King’s disposition had turned savage, his own shocked flight from the palace in a daze, careering madly through streets all night to reach this place—and how this horse, celebrated as the realm’s finest steed for traversing vast distances in an instant, bore the name “Shun.” The old woman marveled at each revelation, heaping immoderate praise upon Kouya’s unwavering loyalty to His Majesty’s decrees—then pressed further still, excavating every detail about his household and palace affairs until disquiet crept over him, reducing his responses to terse utterances. Yet the old woman would not desist.

Eventually, with exaggerated solemnity, she cleared her throat once— “Lord Kouya. “You have told me everything so thoroughly.” “Thanks to you, I have come to understand the state of your residence and the inner workings of the palace quite well.” “But along with that, I have come to know of a most dreadful calamity looming over your person and your household—and I am at a loss as to what to do.” “What? “A calamity is looming over you?”

Kouya found himself involuntarily drawn in and inquired. “Granny, is that true?” “Yes. What could I possibly conceal? I am a renowned female fortune-teller from the southern country, now exactly eight hundred and eighty years old, yet I have never once told a lie. The fruits I am carrying here now are also mysterious fruits used for that fortune-telling, and regarding His Majesty’s forthcoming welcoming of a royal consort, I am going to offer these fruits so that he may select the wisest and most beautiful princess in this world. As for what kind of miraculous effect these fruits will produce—I will be able to show you shortly. Then you will surely come to think that what this old woman has told you is no lie.”

“Then you will surely come to think that what this old woman has told you is no lie,” she said.

Even Kouya, for all his usual composure, found himself completely drawn in by the old woman’s calm manner of speaking— “What?” “Is that really true?” “Is such a terrifying calamity truly about to befall my household?” “How do you know that, Granny?” “Tell me.” he pressed urgently.

Fourteen: Fruit Fortune-Telling Then, the old woman quietly looked back at Kouya’s face peering in from behind her and spoke, her gaze meeting his from beneath the black mask. “There’s no need for you to make such a fuss—everything will be alright.” “If one knows of a calamity beforehand, anyone can avoid it.” “But to clearly know what manner of calamity plagues your household beforehand, there are still matters about your household I must inquire about.” “Will you answer my questions without hiding anything at all?”

“Ah，anything at all.” “I certainly will.”

“Then allow me to inquire—your youngest sister is called Princess Mikure, is she not?” “That’s right.” “Does Princess Mikure closely resemble you in facial features?” “Ah… She resembles me so closely that when she changes clothes, you can barely tell.” “Regarding Princess Mikure, have there not been any strange occurrences of late?” “Ah, you’re well-informed.” “Granny.” “Truly, there are things about my sister that I don’t understand.” “Well, Princess Mikure—ever since she was little, she loved stories more than anything. Day after day until now, she’d read nothing but storybooks. But all of a sudden lately, she’s come to hate those stories. She shuts herself alone in her room, constantly brooding over something, muttering ‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand’ every now and then.” “So everyone worries and tries to ask her why, but she absolutely refuses to explain and just keeps saying ‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand’ from dawn till dusk.” “But since she doesn’t seem particularly ill, we’re just letting her be for now.”

“Oh, is that so? So I finally understand. Then would it not be that Princess Mikure is a lady with large black eyes, long eyebrows, and purple hair so long it drags upon the ground?”

Kouya, wondering how this old woman knew about his sister’s affairs so well, answered suspiciously. “That’s right. And there’s not the slightest difference.” “Hmm, that must indeed be the case. Then, by any chance, did Her Highness Princess Mikure not see a strange dream the other morning?”

When Kouya heard these words, he was so astonished by their uncanny accuracy that he found himself unable to speak, managing only a faint nod. But the old woman pressed on regardless—

“Hmm.” “Hmm.” “Hmm.” “At last, my prophecy has proven true.” “Then allow me to ask one more thing.” “On the morning when Princess Mikure deigned to see that dream—when Her Highness awoke in surprise—was there not a single red bird at the window?”

Kouya, utterly astonished by the sheer strangeness of it all, could only heave a deep sigh. “Hehehe...” “I daresay it must have struck true.” “I am this land’s foremost elder and indeed its foremost seer.” “It cannot possibly be wrong.” “When I first noticed you coming on horseback from afar and saw your face, I understood everything at once—that you are a person of noble status with parents and sisters; that your youngest sister had deigned to see a dream so long it spanned over a decade in another land where she called herself Princess Mirume, a tale deemed madness by others; that upon waking from this dream, there was a red bird at her bedside window; and that during this prolonged dream, she forgot all her past up to yesterday, now believing her current circumstances to be but a dream.”

“Lord Kouya. Take heed. It is precisely your youngest sister, Princess Mikure, who is the root of calamity for your household, I tell you. Princess Mikure has become a demon in that dream she saw the other day, made a bird called the Red Parrot her servant, will bring a terrible disaster upon your household, slaughter your parents, you, Princess Koukouhime, and everyone in your house—leaving only herself alive—and thus become this country’s queen, intending to act entirely as she pleases, I tell you.”

“Then can Princess Koukouhime not become queen?”

Kouya asked, his voice trembling. "No, she cannot." "She cannot." "Your younger sister Princess Mikure will interfere." "No, not Princess Mikure." "The devil-possessed Princess Mikure—that is, Princess Mirume from the dream—will interfere." "That's a lie. "Princess Mikure is not such a bad woman." "Nor is she the kind of woman who would be possessed by a demon." "I cannot accept what you say as true." "All the other prophecies came true, but this one will never come to pass."

Kouya declared, his face turning bright red and trembling all over. But the old woman showed no sign of backing down— "If the previous prophecies have indeed come true, then there is no reason this current one should fail." "If you deem it false, shall I present the evidence?" Even after being told this by the old woman, Kouya simply could not believe that his sister Mikure would do such a thing. And he came to loathe this old woman who spoke of that adorable sister as if she were a demon from the bottom of his heart, his anger flaring so intensely that he couldn’t bear to let her ride on his horse a moment longer. But then he reconsidered—this old woman couldn’t possibly be speaking with ill intent. He concluded that she must have made a mistake in her divination, grown anxious believing it to be true, and was now trying to warn him out of concern—so he decided he would first see this evidence for himself, then correct her error.

“Then, old woman, show me that evidence.” he requested.

“The evidence in question is this, this fruit here.”

As she spoke, the old woman showed him the basket of fruit she held in her hand. “What? That fruit being evidence...”

When Kouya, startled, peered inside, he found seven magnificent apples within. "I have established this divination with these." "Observe—there are seven here." "It corresponds precisely to the number of demons." "If you double this, it becomes Princess Mikure’s age." "That is to say, Princess Mikure has been possessed by a demon and split into two entities—the other half now aims to claim your esteemed life."

“That’s absurd!” “Such a thing could never happen!” “It’s hundreds of miles from the capital to here!”

And once again, Kouya found it all so utterly absurd that he burst out laughing—

“So you’re saying these apples are Princess Mikure?” “No. That is not the case. However, the fact remains that the devilish Princess Mikure is right beside these very fruits.”

“What? By my side?” Kouya instinctively looked around, but it was just a bridge in an ordinary forest—a desolate place where not a single soul passed by... But before he could even finish that thought, the old woman suddenly let slip the basket of fruits she had been cradling so carefully, dropping it from the horse—

"Huh?!" "This is bad— Ah!"

Even as he shouted this, he too tumbled down from his horse in a fluster and tried to gather up the fruits—but alas, they rolled out across the bridge planks in every direction, most of them falling into the river below. Then, the old woman suddenly burst into loud sobs— “Oh no— “The precious fruits all fell into the river!” “The divination fruits meant for His Majesty the King have all been swept away.” “Oh, what a waste!” “What a waste!” “Those—please retrieve them!” “Please retrieve them!” “If no one will retrieve them, then I will go!”

With that, she ran up to the railing and was about to leap in. Upon seeing this, Kouya—how could he not be startled?—immediately leaped down from his horse while shouting “Granny, it’s dangerous!”, grabbed the old woman to stop her, stripped naked instead, and lunged from the bridge railing into the river below. Observing this scene, the old woman who had been clinging to the bridge railing and weeping until now suddenly stopped crying and stood up straight. She abruptly tore off her hood, coat, and gloves—revealing that the figure who had appeared as an old woman was none other than Mirumo in disguise—and gazed at the fruits now rushing downstream and Kouya chasing after them, letting out an eerie cackle. Then, raising her voice,

“Brother… take a good look at the demonic Mikure.”

No sooner had she spoken than she stole everything from Kouya’s discarded hat down to his boots lying nearby and donned them in one swift motion. Nimbly leaping onto Shun’s back, she kicked the horse’s flank hard and dashed straight toward the capital in a single bound.

15. White Cotton

Demon Mirumo soon shot through hundreds of miles like an arrow and, living up to her name, arrived in the capital in the blink of an eye. Thereupon, Mirumo first went to a fabric store, purchased white cotton, then slipped into a secluded side alley with few passersby. After smearing copious mud on her jacket and trousers, then completely bandaging her face save for her eyes—rendering her gender indistinguishable—she entered the capital's foremost tailor shop. Using Kouya's voice and mannerisms, she declared herself to be Kouya, the prime minister's son: "Not only did I recently fall from my horse and injure my face, but I also soiled my precious garments. Since I must attend the royal palace again tomorrow, have another identical outfit and one overcoat tailored by noon today." As she spoke these words, she extracted twelve or thirteen large diamonds from her hair and handed them over: "Ensure the materials and decorations are as lavish and high-quality as possible—attach these to the fasteners."

Fortunately, the owner of this tailor shop was someone who frequented Kouya’s household and knew his body measurements well; having agreed to handle everything in detail and accepted the diamonds, Mirumo pressed further, commanding that the entire household must work together to ensure it was completed on time, then spurred her horse onward. Then she went to the hat shop and ordered a high-quality hat, also promising completion by noon, and handed over one large diamond here as well for its decoration. Then she went to the sword shop to order swords, the shoe shop for shoes, and the glove shop for gloves—instructing all to prepare the finest items by noon—before spurring her horse toward the western side of the royal castle. Just as one might wonder where she was headed, Mirumo soon located Kouya’s residence and boldly charged through the front gate. Upon dismounting her horse, she immediately rushed to the entrance, collapsed upon the stone steps, and called out to the household members in a sorrowful voice.

The household members had heard rumors that Kouya, after returning from his journey yesterday, had immediately gone to the royal palace, then rushed out again, ridden Shun around the palace seven times, and vanished without a trace last night. They were utterly perplexed as to the reason, wondering if perhaps His Majesty had assigned him some urgent task of great importance. Or perhaps he had gone for a walk on his way back and suffered some grave injury—they were deeply fretting over such possibilities when, no sooner had they heard this voice than they all at once, hearts pounding with alarm at the thought of a ruffian, rushed to the entrance to investigate—and what on earth was this?

Kouya appeared to have suffered a grievous injury, his entire face bandaged, lying collapsed with labored breath. The shock experienced by his parents and the others who saw his condition was beyond measure. They immediately carried Kouya to his bed with many helping hands, but unfortunately, it was an ill-timed moment—the household’s physician had left two or three days prior to gather medicinal herbs and stones in a remote mountain area, not expecting to return for a month or two, let alone arrive now. Thus, they had no choice but to dispatch a messenger to summon the court-appointed Blue-Eyed Old Man, urgently requesting he come at once. At that very moment, the Blue-Eyed Old Man had confined himself to his home after receiving King Aimaru’s reprimand. However, upon hearing of Kouya’s injury, he immediately agreed to help, gathered his medicines, and set out.

Before the Blue-Eyed Old Man arrived, Mirumo’s imitation Kouya kept a sharp watch over the household’s state. Just as expected, every person within this house bore an exact resemblance to those of Duke Miruro’s household she had glimpsed in her dream—down to their voices, which showed not the slightest divergence. Even Mirumo herself was astonished anew at this uncanny reality before her eyes, but she steeled herself and concluded that Mikure—the youngest daughter of this household—must indeed have shared that same prophetic dream and now doubted her very existence. Meanwhile, Koukouhime—who was to appear alongside her before His Majesty—remained vigilant in scrutinizing them one last time for certainty. At that moment, the two sisters peered out with tear-streaked faces from between their parents’ figures while fretting over their brother’s injury, intently observing the scene—but when Mirumo finally noticed their faces and stared fixedly through her bandages, they could no longer endure their grief and terror; covering their faces with trembling hands, they fled the room.

After watching them leave, Mirumo let out a deep sigh of relief. The beauty and nobility of Princess Mikure’s appearance— For not only did her own figure seen in the mirror at the lake’s bottom match Princess Mikure’s down to the last detail, but it appeared even purer and more divine. As for her elder sister Princess Koukouhime—indeed, just as Kouya had boasted—there was no doubt she was truly gentle and kind. However, Mirumo thought her beauty could not compare at all to her younger sister Princess Mikure’s, nor to Mirumo’s own. Thus, she felt reassured that even if they appeared together before His Majesty King Aimaru for their audience, she would never be outmatched.

However, in any case, the people of this house were those who had become Princess Mirume's parents and siblings in that recent dream. Moreover, their youngest daughter Princess Mikure had not only seen the same dream of becoming Princess Mirume as she herself had but also miraculously possessed an appearance no different from her own. Thus, she thought perhaps Princess Mikure might truly be Princess Mirume's reincarnation, and her own claim of becoming queen might be a lie. If Princess Mikure were to take that dream as truth and attempt to become queen, that would spell disaster. For the very dream she had been putting in so much effort to make real would all turn to lies, and thus she could not afford even a moment’s carelessness. No matter what, she must eliminate this Princess Mikure—and if possible, silence everyone who knew of that dream—or else she could not rest easy for even a moment. If she did not do this, she could not monopolize for herself alone the happiness that had come to her because of that dream—and so she steeled herself with a dreadful resolve. But neither Duke Kouki nor the Duchess had the slightest inkling that such a wicked woman had become an imitation Kouya and now lay before their very eyes. They were so shocked and frantic over their child’s completely unexpected severe injury that they nearly lost their minds, and in unison they asked how such a thing had happened.

Mirumo, the imitation Kouya, who had been eagerly awaiting these words, used Kouya’s voice and said from beneath her labored breath, “Please send everyone else away. Let only Father and Mother remain. These are matters not meant for others’ ears.” Once facing her parents directly, Mirumo sat up in bed with a pained expression, propping herself on both hands as tears streamed down from between her bandages.

The parents grew even more alarmed and flustered, rushing to him from both sides, “What happened to you?” “If you cry without explaining yourself, how can we understand?” “Why are you shedding tears?” “This—” “Kouya!” “Tell us quickly.” “We’re worried sick.” “Oh, Kouya.”

they pressed him. Seeing this situation, Mirumo first ascertained—and felt relieved—that her parents still believed her to be Kouya. And still, in an utterly weakened voice— “In truth, there is a matter I have kept concealed from you, Dear Father and Mother, until this very day.” “However, now that matters have reached this state, I can no longer keep it concealed—therefore, I shall disclose everything in full.” “But,” she continued, “beginning with Princess Koukouhime’s devotion to His Majesty—how His Majesty himself had deigned to promise to take her as his consort this time, only to deign to break that very promise, then command her to appear alongside another woman for a formal audience one week hence—I, overwhelmed by anguish, recklessly rode Shun out in a frenzy. After reaching Lake Tarumi’s shore that very night and turning back, my horse stumbled on a certain bridge, causing me to fall and sustain these injuries.” Thus did she weave fact and fiction together with tales heard from Kouya, recounting everything in detail.

The parents were astonished by everything they heard. And so they fully understood the circumstances, but regarding the matter of presenting Princess Koukouhime alongside another woman for a formal audience—they declared it far too pitiful and disgraceful. While they might have reluctantly accepted if she were to smoothly become the royal consort, should she fail to meet His Majesty’s favor, there could be no greater humiliation. For this reason, the parents could not easily consent. However, Mirumo’s imitation Kouya, believing this to be the crucial point, desperately praised Princess Koukouhime’s beauty to the skies, insisting that even if any woman were to come, none could surpass her younger sister in beauty—so there was nothing to worry about. “Moreover, since His Majesty King Aimaru has now forgotten Princess Koukouhime’s beauty, he must have issued such a careless command. But if His Majesty sees her again this time, he will surely favor her as he did before. And if Princess Koukouhime does not appear for the formal audience, causing some lowly woman to become the royal consort instead, that would in turn bring great disrespect upon His Majesty. Therefore, Princess Koukouhime’s appearance at this formal audience is an extremely convenient and important matter for all parties involved,” she persuaded with every possible word, her voice strained beneath labored breathing.

Upon hearing this, the parents found it reasonable; partly out of Princess Koukouhime’s loveliness and their own parental bias, they finally settled on it and both went to her chamber to discuss. Immediately after, the Blue-Eyed Old Man, guided by a maid, came rushing in. The Blue-Eyed Old Man had never been anywhere other than the royal palace until now, and this was his first visit to this house. As everyone there—aside from Minister Kouki and Kouya, whom he knew from court—consisted entirely of people he had never met, he greeted each person with polite meticulousness. However, only Princess Mikure remained hidden in her room, refusing to come out even when her elder sister Princess Koukouhime called for her.

Princess Mikure, upon hearing the voice announcing the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s arrival, immediately wondered if he might be the terrifying old man from that dream. If that were indeed true, she realized she would become utterly unable to distinguish where her current circumstances ended as dream and began as reality. A growing sense of dread welled up within her from the sheer strangeness of it all. She resolved that regardless of anything, she must determine whether this person called the Blue-Eyed Old Man was that old man or not. However, fearing it would be disastrous if she faced him directly and were mistaken for a demon again, she quietly created a gap in the door and peered out with only her eyes to observe the situation.

When Princess Mikure glimpsed the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s face passing by, she nearly let out an “Ah!” before catching herself. His blue hair hanging to his shoulders, those sharp blue eyes, blue beard, dark complexion, and yellow garment—all perfectly matched the old man from her dream, down to his identical gait. Princess Mikure felt all blood freeze in her veins from terror. She frantically shut the door, locked it securely from within, and sighed in relief—only to have her vision darken as she collapsed to the floor. Yet with the household now turned upside-down in commotion, no one noticed.

However, when Mirumo, the imitation Kouya, saw the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s face, she trembled violently in shock. Now she finally understood that dream had not been a lie—but combined with the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s piercing gaze, she feared he might see through her bandages and recognize her as the woman who had cut open the bag of ginkgo leaves in that dream. Yet upon further reflection—if the Blue-Eyed Old Man had glimpsed Princess Mikure even once, he should have suspected her before me—the fact that he came to this house so calmly suggested this might be his first visit here, and he had never actually seen Princess Mikure. Or perhaps he never experienced that dream at all? No—that couldn’t be possible. Just as Princess Mikure saw that dream, this Blue-Eyed Old Man—and that white-haired beggar boy too—must have surely witnessed it. Otherwise nothing would add up. Whether they’d seen each other would become clear once Princess Mikure and this old man were made to meet. At any rate, for now the Blue-Eyed Old Man hadn’t met Princess Mikure face-to-face and clearly hadn’t realized she was impersonating Kouya either—with this conclusion, Mirumo sighed in relief and composed herself.

However, the Blue-Eyed Old Man had not noticed such things in the slightest. He slowly approached Mirumo’s imitation Kouya and saluted her, then checked her pulse first. Finding nothing amiss, he felt relieved she was unlikely to die from this. But when he tried next to remove the bandages from her face, the imitation Kouya screeched at the top of her lungs—"It hurts! It hurts!"—absolutely refusing to let him touch them. With no other choice, the Blue-Eyed Old Man took an oil-based medicine from his basket and soaked the entire bandage with it, reasoning that if left this way, it would come off painlessly before long. "Now this medicine," he continued, "if you taste just a drop, you’ll sleep continuously for a full week." "In that time, the pain should mostly subside. If it remains too severe afterward, have them drink this," he said, placing a small bottle by the patient’s bedside.

For some time after the Blue-Eyed Old Man left, Mirumo pretended her pain had subsided and slept soundly. However, when noon approached and the maid who had stayed behind to nurse her was briefly away, Mirumo suddenly bolted upright, snatched the bottle of sleeping medicine from her bedside, leaped out through the window, rushed to the stable in the back, called for the stablehand, and had Shun brought out. Dismissively declaring that her injury had suddenly started hurting and she was going to Mr. Blue-Eyed Old Man’s place, she nimbly leaped into the saddle and fled headlong out the back gate.

Sixteen: Diamond

After fleeing Koushio’s house, Mirumo first went to the tailor to retrieve her kimono and threw out a single large diamond as payment. Next, she visited the hatter, then the shoemaker, then the swordsmith in turn, retrieving her items and paying each merchant by plucking one jewel from her hair to give them. Afterward, when she abruptly raced south along the capital’s main avenue, she soon encountered Koushio—panting heavily as he ran toward her, still clad in the cast-off old woman’s clothes that Mirumo had shed. Then Mirumo, with violent force, suddenly charged her horse at Koushio, trampling and scattering him before he could flee, inflicting severe injuries. And having confirmed that his breathing had completely stopped and he had collapsed face down, she returned, hoisted him onto her horse under the pretense of rescuing him, and entered a certain forest.

There, Mirumo removed the bandages from her own face and completely wrapped Koushio’s bloodied face with them. Then, after returning the borrowed clothes to Koushio and dressing him back into his original garments, she put on new men’s attire herself and discarded the old woman’s robes.

Having done this, Mirumo once again lifted the limp Koushio onto Shun’s back and dashed back toward the capital. This time, using the great ginkgo tree west of the royal castle as her landmark, she arrived before the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s gate. She shoved Koushio off the horse, let out a sharp cry as she leaped down herself, then swiftly fled somewhere into the distance.

The famed horse Shun, left behind, was but a beast—there was no reason it could comprehend anything. Yet when it saw what had fallen from its back—its master Koushio—the creature seemed concerned despite its animal nature. Sniffing incessantly at Koushio’s body, it circled around him until at last raising its head to let out a high, mournful neigh.

From the very beginning, messengers had been coming nonstop from Koushio’s house to the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s residence, and Koushio kept asking again and again whether he had arrived yet. Having heard the detailed account from the messenger, the Blue-Eyed Old Man was so agitated he could neither stand nor sit still with worry—when suddenly, a horse’s whinny rang out before the front gate. Thinking this might be it, he rushed out to check. To his horror, there lay Koushio at the base of the ginkgo tree, drenched in blood, with Shun pacing restlessly nearby in evident distress.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man was so shocked at this sight he nearly collapsed, but regardless, he asked the messenger who had come from Koushio’s house for help. Together, they carried Koushio into his own sickbed, stripped him completely naked, wiped away the blood, and examined his wounds—only to find them surprisingly shallow, likely to heal within a week. It appeared he had been brutally struck in the chest and head—completely unconscious, with no breath passing through, no pulse beating, his body cold as ice, and his lips turned purple. However, by the time the messenger had ridden Shun back and brought Koushio’s parents without delay, Koushio—through the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s skillful care and the efficacy of good medicine—had regained his breath and was sleeping soundly and peacefully.

When they saw this, the parents rejoiced as if another child had been born to them and wept tears of joy. And now, deeply impressed by the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s skillful caregiving, they expressed their profound gratitude, declaring him not only Koushio’s savior but also the parent of our very lives.

Seventeen: Copper Pot

That night, Koushio was carried by his family members and taken back to his own home, but even after being laid in his usual bed with a severe fever, he continued groaning deliriously. That night, he did nothing but utter delirious ravings all night long, but whenever he opened his eyes and saw the faces of his parents and sisters, he would immediately begin making a frenzied commotion— “Don’t come into this room… Not Father… Not Mother… Not my sisters… None of you retainers either…” “Listen... Listen... I am cursed by a demon.” “Demon’s fruit.” “Demon’s Mikure.” “And then the demon’s ‘Shun’… The seven fruits were the demon’s number… I was cursed by the number seven.” “I was deceived by the demon Mikure.” “I was trampled by the Demon’s ‘Shun’.” “Ah, terrifying… Ah, agonizing.” “Father… Mother… Sisters… It’s dangerous! So dangerous!” “It’s dangerous to stay by my side.” “The Demon has taken the form of our daughter Mikure!” “And if that Demon-possessed ‘Shun’ comes charging in through this window any moment now… Dangerous! Dangerous!” “Please get out!” “Sisters, get out.” “Not a single one of you can stay by my side.” “Hurry! Hurry!”

No sooner had he shouted than he plopped his head back onto the pillow and drifted into a fitful sleep. Such occurrences happened two or three times throughout the night, but the people by his side could make no sense of what was happening and could only panic in confusion. In any case, for safety’s sake, they moved Mother and the sisters away from this room, leaving Father and one other—a strong-willed, powerful retainer named Kurogo—to keep watch by the bedside. Meanwhile, they ordered the stablehand to tightly bind Shun to a pillar so he couldn’t move, even stationing two guards on top of that.

When dawn broke but light still lingered dimly, the Blue-Eyed Old Man came to visit. Koushio’s parents and household members had piled worry upon worry since the previous night, staying wide awake as they desperately awaited his arrival. Upon seeing him, they swarmed around him from all sides as though a deity had descended and recounted everything that had transpired since dusk. Then—for reasons unclear—the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s complexion shifted rapidly, his lips trembling violently until at last he involuntarily—

“Seven demons… Seven demons… That cannot be… That cannot be,” he blurted out. But when pressed by everyone—“Surely there must be some way to cure Koushio’s mysterious illness?”—he seemed to become unbearably terrified, clenching his teeth, widening his eyes, and standing there fixedly glaring at the ceiling. However, before long, the Blue-Eyed Old Man let out a deep sigh of relief, looked around at everyone, and said—

“Understood,” “If this were a demon I know, I would surely vanquish it for you.” “Yet in my judgment, this bears no mark of a demon’s work.” “For I know well where demons dwell.” “Then what manner of demon is this?” Duke Kouki pressed with hurried words. When faced with this question, the Blue-Eyed Old Man started once more—yet soon answered with feigned innocence—

“Yes. This demon is a most fearsome demon—anyone who merely hears its name will immediately be possessed by it, becoming a demon themselves. Therefore, I cannot divulge that name.” “Then how do *you* know its name?” When Duchess Kouki posed this question, the Blue-Eyed Old Man was at a complete loss. And then, as if in pain, he responded— “As for that... even were I to hear its name or behold its form, it would not affect me in the slightest.”

“Oh! “How curious.” “Do you have some clever method to avoid being possessed by demons?”

“Yes. That does exist. However, that is a secret passed down through generations in my family, and I cannot disclose it at present. My family has guarded this secret for generations, and his ancient edicts—those who steal human forms. Those who steal human voices. Those who steal human lifeblood. These three are demons. Kill them on sight. It is our duty to spread throughout the land the command: ‘Destroy them—’” “That’s right! Everyone had heard that such edicts existed. That’s what reminded me—the one currently stealing Mikure’s form must be a demon! I implore you, Blue-Eyed Old Man—you must subjugate that demon! You are well versed not only in matters of illness but even demons in detail! Please—I beg of you!”

Duke Kouki grasped the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s hands, tears streaming down his face as he pleaded, but the others who heard this turned deathly pale, trembling in terror at the realization that a true demon was now targeting Lord Koushio. The Blue-Eyed Old Man placed a hand on his chest as a sign of acknowledgment and bowed respectfully. Then he quietly entered Koushio’s room and observed the patient’s condition. After completing his examination, he turned to everyone with a relieved expression and—

“Please rest assured, everyone,” “Lord Koushio’s illness is, as I expected, an ordinary injury—it is certainly not a demon targeting him.” “The injury itself has now greatly improved, and I believe he will rise and walk ere long.” “Nevertheless, for prudence’s sake, you should all remain as vigilant as before and continue tending to him with utmost care.” he said. Then, after bidding farewell to all, he departed for home at a leisurely pace.

However, immediately after exiting Duke Kouki’s gate, the Blue-Eyed Old Man crossed his arms, hung his head, and began walking while deep in thought. And then, constantly under his breath— “Demon. Demon.” he continued to repeat. When he eventually arrived at his own house’s gate, the Blue-Eyed Old Man came to a halt and, still with his arms crossed, stared up intently at the ginkgo tree before the entrance.

The ginkgo tree had long since lost all its leaves, its branches spreading high into the clear sky like clouds. The Blue-Eyed Old Man gazed up at its crown for a while before lowering his eyes to its roots. Yellow leaves still lay piled at the base without decaying. Staring intently at the spot, the Blue-Eyed Old Man seemed to reach a decision as he gave a firm nod and scanned his surroundings—no one passed by, not even a cat—leaving only the soft murmur of the river flowing ahead. Having confirmed this, he nodded again and hurried through the gate. When he reappeared moments later, he carried a single hoe on his shoulder.

Wondering what he would do next, the Blue-Eyed Old Man surveyed his surroundings once more, confirmed no one was passing by, approached the base of the ginkgo tree, brushed aside the piled leaves, and began digging methodically at the spot. And then, when he had dug four or five feet, a single iron plate appeared. When the Blue-Eyed Old Man finally pried up the edge of the plate with the tip of his hoe, beneath it lay a stone box. Inside sat a single copper urn—sealed tightly with a brass band—that seemed to contain something of great and secret importance. However, around it lay thick, stubborn ginkgo roots coiled in multiple tight layers; even with one or two hoes at hand, digging them out seemed nigh impossible. It was as if the ginkgo tree were proclaiming, "This is mine!" It seemed to be clutching it tightly, as though declaring, "This cannot be given to anyone." The Blue-Eyed Old Man stared at this for a while, but soon let out a sigh of relief with a reassured expression,

“First, all is well,” he muttered. Given this state of affairs, the remaining four demons were still trapped inside that urn. For now he only needed to subjugate three—the mirror、the parrot、and the Treasure Snake that had yet to appear. Nevertheless、where was the Treasure Snake hiding? And from where would it emerge? It was indeed a cause for concern. If events had unfolded thus、could it be… "If that’s true、then I must be even more vigilant."

He muttered to himself while glaring fixedly toward the palace, but soon regained his composure and hurriedly covered the urn with soil, scattered ginkgo leaves about, and ensured no traces remained.

Eighteen: Ice and Iron

When that day too passed uneventfully and the next morning arrived, yet another urgent messenger came from Koushio’s house, requesting that the Blue-Eyed Old Man come with all haste. When the Blue-Eyed Old Man rushed over immediately without taking anything, Koushio’s father and Kurogo—who had kept watch all through the previous night without sleeping—were waiting at the entrance. Taking him by both hands, they guided him to Koushio’s sickbed. And then they had him sit on the chair there and requested that he silently observe Koushio’s condition for a while. The Blue-Eyed Old Man, growing increasingly suspicious and wondering what in the world was happening, stared fixedly at Koushio’s sleeping face as requested—when suddenly Koushio’s cheeks turned deathly pale, and both eyes, bloodshot like fire, flew wide open. And then, glaring at the ceiling, he writhed in agony,

“Last night it came—the demon came.” “A demon that looked just like Princess Mikure—wearing men’s clothing… purple hair… a silver sword… a diamond-fastened collar… reached a white hand out from the window… in its hand was a beautiful jeweled cord… and it threw that cord.” Father was also asleep. Kurogo was also asleep.

“I’m the only one who knows. Demon. Demon. The demon from before. Damn you, demon. Come again. I won’t let you escape again. Untie these bandages for me. Take this quilt for me. Hurry! Hurry!” he shouted, but soon appeared exhausted, slumped down sideways, and began to drift into a fitful sleep. Upon seeing this state of affairs, the Blue-Eyed Old Man seemed so startled he nearly lost his footing, involuntarily—

“Mmm... Demon...”

he shouted, but then plopped down onto a nearby chair, closed his eyes, pursed his lips tightly in evident frustration—

“It’s the Treasure Snake.” “It’s the Treasure Snake.” “Well then—had it gone exactly as I’d thought?”

he muttered to himself.

The people nearby, starting with his parents, were all increasingly astonished by the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s strange words and actions, wondering what in the world could be the reason for this. And they stared with such intensity at the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s fearsome expression—silent and deep in thought—that it seemed their gazes might bore holes through him. Then, before long, the Blue-Eyed Old Man seemed to have hit upon an idea, and he opened his eyes sharply— “Alright. I’ve made up my mind. I absolutely must witness the true form of that demon.”

he declared.

Then, the Blue-Eyed Old Man earnestly entreated Duke Kouki and his wife: from tonight onward, he wished to keep solitary vigil to witness the demon’s true form, and thus implored them to entrust the matter solely to him. When the parents heard these resolute words from the Blue-Eyed Old Man, how could they possibly refuse? They promptly consented, left the Blue-Eyed Old Man alone in the chamber and withdrew, yet as added precaution stationed numerous stout-hearted retainers around the residence to maintain ceaseless watch.

When the Blue-Eyed Old Man found himself alone in the room, he deliberately stood up and surveyed his surroundings. Since this chamber had only a single window once the door was shut, with no other means of entry or exit, he concluded that the demon must have undoubtedly entered through that window. Having ascertained this, the Blue-Eyed Old Man still wanted to get a better look outside the window. When he suddenly placed his hand on the window frame, he discovered something peculiar in its corner. They were three beautiful crimson jewels.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man knew everything there was to know in this world, and was particularly knowledgeable about gemstones. Upon catching sight of these three crimson jewels, he immediately recognized them as exceedingly rare and of the highest quality—not something an ordinary person would possess. Yet, he could not fathom who had placed them there or for what purpose. Perhaps this was some mischief the demon had wrought. Therefore, thinking it best not to meddle with them, he left them exactly as they were.

As the night deepened within, the Blue-Eyed Old Man drank a drug to stay awake, pulled a chair to Koushio’s bedside, and sat down alone. In his pocket, he had prepared another poison bottle to pour over the demon immediately upon seeing it, and thus he spent that entire night without a moment’s sleep. This poison was a terrifying one that would instantly turn all the blood in one’s body to ice if even a single drop touched them. However, that night passed without incident. The next night and the night after that also passed without incident. When the evening before the audience ceremony at the royal court finally arrived, the entire household was in an uproar preparing Princess Koukouhime’s attire during that time. Once the preparations were fully complete, the princess was made to lie down on a bed placed in the center of the grand hall—where the Stone Deity was enshrined in the innermost part of the estate—with four retainers keeping watch in shifts around her without sleeping. This was a precaution to ensure nothing happened to the princess’s body.

The parents, seeing this situation and feeling reassured, withdrew to their own room. Princess Mikure also came to her bedside— “Sister, please rest.”

With that, she left, glancing back again and again, her face filled with an indescribable sadness. When Princess Koukouhime saw this— "Ah, sleeping together with Princess Mikure in this house might come to an end. Mikure must be crying because of that. What a sad thing this must be." As she thought this, she gazed at the magnificent coffered ceiling made of fragrant wood, but scalding hot tears welled up in her eyes of their own accord, streaming down both sides of her face. At that moment, the vast royal court fell into a hushed silence, so profound that one could have heard a pin drop.

At this time, the Blue-Eyed Old Man sat alone by Koushio’s bedside, the poison bottle still tucked in his breast pocket, waiting intently for the demon to arrive at any moment. But until past midnight, nothing happened; only Koushio’s labored breathing grew quieter along with the deepening night.

However, once midnight had passed and the time came when dawn seemed about to break, a woman’s beautiful voice singing a song could be heard from somewhere in the garden.

“Koushio saw a face.” “He saw the demon’s face.” “Those who saw the demon’s face—” “—were fated to die.”

I am the demon. I am the demon.

“I will surely kill Koushio!”

The voice seemed like one the Blue-Eyed Old Man had heard somewhere before, but at this moment he simply couldn't recall it. When he heard this voice, Koushio suddenly opened his eyes wide and raised his head— "That voice!" "That voice!" "The demon's voice!" "Younger sister Mikure's voice!"

he shouted.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man immediately sprang out the window and dashed toward where the voice was coming from. With one hand on the stopper of his poison bottle, he ran around frantically, ready to drench the demon at first encounter—but mysteriously, the fiend had vanished without a trace. Only the frost-laden wind bit into his flesh, while starlight showered down from the vast sky like radiant rain. The Blue-Eyed Old Man stood dumbfounded, feeling as though a fox had tricked him. But mid-stupor, he suddenly grasped this was the demon’s ploy and rushed back to Koushio’s chamber—only to discover: Koushio had half-wriggled free from his bedding, wheezing violently, eyes blazing and teeth gritted as he glared through the window. In his left hand, he clutched something hard and unyielding. The Blue-Eyed Old Man gasped—realizing the demon had lured him away only to torment Koushio anew—and hurried to the young man’s side—

“Lord Koushio! Young Master! What have you done? Has the demon come here? And where did it flee?”

he asked. But Koushio did not respond to that and— “Demon.” “Damn demon!” “Did you let Mikure’s demon bastard get away?”

he shouted. And then when he slumped back once more—what do you think happened? Crimson Jewels—as beautiful and large as those placed by the window earlier—came clattering down from the bed in a scattered handful, emitting a blood-like glow as they rolled across the floor. Judging by this state of affairs, these Crimson Jewels were clearly not something Koushio’s sisters had left behind by accident—they must have been placed here by the demon for some purpose. The Blue-Eyed Old Man called Koushio’s parents without a moment’s delay and had them keep watch over him. Then he lit a nearby lantern, went outside, and upon carefully examining the area, found that one or two Crimson Jewels had fallen here and there on the stone pavement. Thinking he had cornered it, the Blue-Eyed Old Man continued pressing the lantern to the ground while searching for Crimson Jewels, and as he gradually followed the trail, it came to a stop one ken away beneath the window of the neighboring room. And from between those window hangings, a pale yellow light was seeping through.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man had long since heard this room was Mikure's. But he had never once looked inside. Therefore, he immediately blew out the lantern's flame and stealthily peered inside through that window. As soon as he glimpsed the scene within, he stood frozen like a stick. On the bed right beside the window lay a beautiful girl. That face. That figure. From the color of hair spilling over both sides of the bed to the precise curl pattern—was there not a single discrepancy between this girl and the one who had cut open the ginkgo leaf bag on his back in that dream?

For a while, the Blue-Eyed Old Man stood dumbfounded by the sheer strangeness of it all, gazing blankly at the sleeping girl’s face. Then, after heaving a deep sigh, he gave a firm nod of resolve. With trembling hands, he gingerly pushed against the window—and without resistance, it swung open smoothly to both sides. Having crawled in slowly and quietly from there, the Blue-Eyed Old Man stepped onto the floor, immediately uncorked the poison bottle, gripped it in his right hand, assumed a defensive stance, and once again stared intently at the sleeping girl’s face illuminated by the pale yellow light of the round glass lantern.

The more he looked, the more beautiful the girl’s figure appeared. Long hair swirled purple like evening clouds. Long eyebrows and long eyelashes. Lips like a flower. With her eyes and mouth quietly closed, she lay sleeping so soundly that not even her breathing could be heard. As he watched, she grew increasingly beautiful and alluring until she no longer seemed like a being of this world. However, when he looked around carefully once more, were there not Crimson Jewels—each about the same size as those that had been beside Koushio’s pillow—scattered here and there among her hair and around her pillow?

When the Blue-Eyed Old Man saw this, he involuntarily let out a sound—

“Demon!”

he called out. The moment she heard this voice, the girl immediately bolted upright, shot a fleeting glance at the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s face, and then—assumed a terrifying visage—

“Huh?! Blue-Eyed Old Man… I am Mikure. I am this household’s daughter. I am not a demon!” While shouting this, she disheveled her purple hair, scattered Crimson Jewels like rain, and tried to flee through the window without another word—but it was already too late. The moment the medicine poured by the Blue-Eyed Old Man touched some part of her body, all the blood within her turned to ice—she collapsed onto the bed with a thud and froze solid before his eyes.

When the Blue-Eyed Old Man saw this, he let out a relieved breath and placed a hand on his chest—but then steadied his nerves, calmed his racing heart, and approached the corpse to thoroughly examine the surroundings. After confirming she was truly dead, he disposed of the poison bottle, tucked it into his robe, and stealthily slipped out through the window—though not without anxiously wondering if her scream had been heard—then hurried back to Koushio’s chamber, only to find…! Koushio’s condition had suddenly taken a turn for the worse in the brief time he was away, and he now appeared on the verge of drawing his last breath. And then, he swung his tightly clenched left fist as if to tear it off, muttering in fragmented bursts like delirious ramblings—

“How frustrating. “How frustrating.” “Demon.” “Mikure.” he was saying. Koushio’s parents, who had been gathered at his bedside crying and worrying about what would happen, rushed over all at once when they saw the Blue-Eyed Old Man return—

“Please help.” “Please help.” “Please save Koushio.”

they pleaded in unison while clinging to his sleeves. Even the Blue-Eyed Old Man—accustomed as he was to patients—found himself shocked and flustered by this. He lunged at Koushio’s left hand, desperately trying to pry it open, but no lever could budge it. Instead, as his hand clenched tighter and tighter, the fist began changing from purple to black. The Blue-Eyed Old Man grew increasingly shocked and flustered—

“A terrible mistake—a terrible mistake!” he shouted while taking out a sharp dagger from his breast pocket and trying to cut off the arm at the blackened part. Seeing this, the parents suddenly grabbed the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s arm and pulled him away— “Wh-what are you doing?!” “What are you doing?!” they shouted. “Ah— “Release me.” “If I don’t cut it now, he’ll turn to iron!” “Lord Koushio will turn into iron!” “Ha... Release me!” “What?! Turn into iron…” “Turn into iron…”

The parents, utterly terrified, released the Blue-Eyed Old Man. The Blue-Eyed Old Man immediately latched onto Koushio’s arm, thrust his dagger into the upper arm, and twisted it with a grating motion—but it proved utterly futile. Even a sharp dagger that could slice through bone and flesh as easily as tofu now bent and snapped like soft lead or silver, unable to leave so much as a scratch. All the while, before their eyes, a dull purple seeped across Koushio’s body—from arm to shoulder, shoulder to arm—until his eyes glared wide, his teeth clenched tight, and with hands still clawing at empty air, his entire form turned into a pitch-black mass of iron.

Upon witnessing this terrifyingly bizarre manner of death, Koushio’s parents stood as if the soles of their feet were glued to the floorboards—unable to move a muscle, not even shedding a single tear.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man could do nothing more; he stood dumbfounded, staring fixedly at Koushio’s corpse. And then, as if muttering to himself—

"The body turns into iron."

“The body turns into iron.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ve never heard of anything like this. Is this a demon’s doing? A demon’s prank?”

“Strange.” “Strange.” “I’m shocked… Shocked.”

he had been saying.

Meanwhile, the eastern sky faintly brightened, and through the withered trees in the distant garden, the dazzling light of the morning sun flooded all at once into this room. Then it swept over the faces of the three people standing frozen like marble, drained of color. Yet they did not blink once, could not move a muscle, and stood staring—with such intensity that their eyes might bore holes—at the terrifying form of the black-glinting iron corpse, its hands clawing at empty air.

Then, from the royal palace atop the distant hill, the sound of beautiful music came blowing in on a frost-laden wind that cut to the bone. It was the advance notice of the commencement of a ceremony rare even in the world—one where the most beautiful and wise girls selected from across the land would be presented at the royal court today.

At that moment, two maids came and bowed politely at the entrance to the room. One of them spoke in a quiet, low voice— “Princess Koukouhime’s preparations are complete.” “She is currently awaiting most eagerly in the dining hall.” she announced. However, the other maid now spoke in a trembling voice that set her teeth chattering— “Prin... Princess Mikure... sh-she’s... in her everyday clothes... in her bed... c-c-cold as ice...”

“P-P-Princess Mikure… sh-she… in her everyday clothes… in her bed… c-c-cold as i-i-ice…”

As she spoke, she sank to the floor and burst into tears.

Part Three: Treasure Snake

19. The Yellow Rose Basket

Princess Koukouhime did not sleep a wink the entire previous night. She spent the night awake thinking about the strange and terrifying events that had occurred around her lately. However, having slept deep within the inner chambers, she remained completely unaware of what had transpired with her elder brother and younger sister that night. When dawn finally broke, her attendants assisted her into the bath, where she purified her body and applied her makeup. First she poured oil from the flowers of a tree called Kouunboku onto her hair, then washed her face using dew collected from white lilies. She donned a white silk kimono with wide sleeves and a long hem, layered a black fox fur coat over it, placed an agate crown upon her head, and took up a basket of yellow roses. Then she slipped her feet into narrow shoes of tanned deer hide. With her preparations now complete, all that remained was to share a farewell meal in the dining hall before boarding the carriage with her attendants and departing for the royal court.

At that very moment, someone suddenly flung open the door to the dressing room, rushed inside, and before anyone could react, embraced Princess Koukouhime— “I won’t send you anywhere! I won’t send you anywhere! I’ll hold you like this until I die!” Someone cried out. That was Princess Koukouhime’s mother. Her mother had gone mad after witnessing her two children die in a terrifyingly bizarre manner this very morning. And so—with Koukouhime now the only one left behind—she resolved not to send her anywhere; this was why she had embraced her so tightly. However, Princess Koukouhime knew nothing of such matters and so was startled—

“Huh? Mother, what are you doing?” She tried to cry out—but her moment came too late, his all too swift—when immediately afterward, this time her father came rushing in. And without saying a word, he forcibly took Princess Koukouhime from her mother, dragging her hand as he led her outside, put her into the prepared carriage—adorned with flowers and drawn by three white horses—then immediately turned to the coachman—

“Go. Go to the royal palace without a moment’s delay. Koukouhime. Don’t be alarmed. The reason will become clear later. All the more reason to go to the palace immediately. You are Duke Kouki’s daughter. Never show a spineless expression. Don’t make a sad face.” he shouted. The coachman, understanding, raised his whip in salute while taking the reins and giving them a shake, whereupon the carriage immediately dashed off toward the royal palace.

At that moment, her mother, who had gone mad, came rushing over—

“Oh, Princess Koukouhime. You mustn’t go!”

She tried to cling to it. From the carriage window, Princess Koukouhime leaned out her face— “Father! Mother!” She cried out, but Duke Kouki restrained her mother... Princess Koukouhime’s figure—pulled by three white horses—grew smaller and smaller in the blink of an eye, soon hidden by the cloud of sand that billowed up behind the carriage. Duke Kouki had the maids who arrived afterward tend to the unconscious Duchess and take her to her room, but he himself entered Koushio’s chamber alone. There stood the Blue-Eyed Old Man, rigid as a withered tree, having lined up the two corpses—Koushio turned to iron and Princess Mikure turned to ice—and staring fixedly at them.

Duke Kouki quietly approached their side and stared fixedly at the two wretched corpses, but before long, the tears he had been holding back until now suddenly overflowed from his eyes, streaming down both cheeks in an unending flow— “Koushio, Mikure… why have you ended up like this? What crime did you commit to receive such punishment? Your father wanted to let Princess Koukouhime meet you two just once this morning when she left home.” He thought of how terribly shocked she would have been had she seen their forms—and how he had forced himself to endure it. Yet this heart of his felt as though it would burst. Forgive me, Princess Koukouhime. Ah, my wife—you must have suffered as well. What you said was entirely right. Koushio had become iron. Mikure had become ice. Only Koukouhime remained. It was only natural not to want to send her anywhere. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. But I must send her. Had we been able to send her off properly, we parents would have accompanied her with ladies-in-waiting in attendance—a splendid, joyous procession. But even that proved impossible. When a family member dies, our country’s edict forbids those of their bloodline from appearing at the royal court for one full day and night. Therefore we decided to pretend Koushio and Mikure still lived so we could send you there—only to startle you instead, making you grieve as we sent you off in tears.

Alas, my brother became iron. My sister became ice. The sole remaining one rode to the royal palace in a flower-decked carriage, weeping to become queen. What joy could there be in becoming queen? What joy could there be in the royal palace?

Ah. Ah. I'm going mad.

The voice gradually rose in pitch and grew increasingly incoherent. Finally unable to remain standing, he collapsed onto the floor in tears with both hands pressed to his face, but soon staggered back to his feet,

"Let us pray to the Stone Deity. Let us pray to the Stone Deity. Let us pray for Princess Koukouhime’s safety." With these words he staggered out of the room.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man who remained behind likewise stood staring fixedly at the two corpses. However, shortly after Duke Kouki left the room, he plopped down onto a nearby chair, crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and sank into deep thought. And then, as if deeply saddened, he muttered to himself: —

“Alas. I finally understand. I’ve finally discovered the demon’s escape route. The demon fled from that ginkgo tree. That recent dream was indeed prophetic. Princess Mikure must have seen that vision without doubt. And His Majesty must have witnessed it too. Yes.”

"The King and Princess Mikure had been possessed by demons together. No. 'Depending on how things stood... the remaining four demons... stole His Majesty's form...' When the Blue-Eyed Old Man had spoken this far, he suddenly shuddered violently and stood rigidly, gazing toward the royal palace. His face turned visibly pale, eyebrows arching upward and lips clamping tightly together."

But then, as if he had realized something, he heaved a deep sigh, lowered his head, tightly clenched both fists, and declared—

“That’s it. I must absolutely uncover the true identity of the King. Though it is most presumptuous of me... if the current Lord King Aimaru is not the true Lord King Aimaru... I must by all means seek out the true Lord King Aimaru, protect and uphold him, and depose the current Lord King Aimaru. I must exterminate the demons. I cannot leave without reducing them to Princess Mikure’s state. Even so, the Treasure Snake... Where could that Treasure Snake that cursed this house have gone? For now, I must first begin by tracking this down.

The ones to be pitied were the people of this household. The entire household had been completely cursed by the demon entranced with Princess Mikure. And I could not save them. Even as I claimed my power was insufficient, I still ended up causing two deaths. The people of this household must surely resent me now. They must surely think me a hopelessly unreliable wretch now. But there was no help for it. If I were to explain myself, I would have to fully reveal this country’s secrets. Alas, this secret… this secret that cannot be told to anyone. The secret that I burned to ashes and placed in that copper urn. And my secret duty of guarding it—a duty of such worldly solemnity. Even if every last person in the country were slaughtered, this secret duty I must protect. What a strange and solemn duty this is. Alas, why was I born with blue eyes? Why was I born as a man with blue hair and a blue beard? I wonder if there’s not a single other man with blue hair and blue eyes left anymore. If there were such a man, I would want to hand over this crucial secret duty immediately.

And then I want to drink poison or something and die.

Alas. The secret of Aimaru Country turned to ash. Princess Mikure’s secret of the heart turned to ice. Koushio’s secret of the clenched fist turned to iron. What would the secret of my duty turn into? Stone? Wood? Water? Earth? It mattered not. "I must meet a man with blue eyes and blue hair—hand over this secret—forget this dreadful duty."

Within the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s soliloquy, strange words gradually began to emerge—one after another after another. But when he had spoken this far, the Blue-Eyed Old Man closed his lips and stared fixedly at a distant point outside the window. There appeared King Aimaru’s palace as beautiful as a painting, and from there once again came the sound of music far livelier than before. This seemed to be a sign that the audience ceremony was finally about to begin.

Twenty: Queen of the Sea

On this day, six women in total had come for the audience. Of these, four were women selected one each from the four countries of the east, west, south, and north, all dressed in their respective homelands’ proud winter attire. The woman from the northern country was wearing a splendid otter fur coat. The woman from the southern country was wearing a jacket woven from waterfowl feathers. The woman from the eastern country was trailing a long sky-blue silk hem. And the woman from the western country was letting her crimson shawl—shining like the sunset—undulate down to the floor. These four were all the most intelligent and beautiful princesses in their respective four countries, but compared to the other two’s beauty, they were as different as the moon and a turtle.

The other two were Princess Koukouhime and Mirumo. Princess Koukouhime was dressed just as when she had left home—layering a black fox coat over her white kimono and holding a basket of yellow roses—but her somehow sorrowful, noble, and gentle figure seemed almost too precious to be placed alongside the other four women. However, the other one was different—wearing a purple man’s outfit adorned with large diamond buttons, suspending a delicate silver-made sword, and in the purple hat crowning her head, she had inserted but a single swan feather. And somehow, the first button on her coat—unlike the other diamonds—bore a single large white rose, which suited her so perfectly that it appeared dazzlingly majestic and brilliant.

The noble people from various countries who had come to witness this extraordinary audience ceremony were all astonished by the beauty of the two women, wondering whether they were gods or mortals, and marveling at where such exquisite princesses could have possibly originated. Yet among them stood one who—far more astounded than all others who had marveled and wondered—doubted their own eyes, questioning whether such a wondrous phenomenon could ever recur in this world. That person was none other than Princess Koukouhime.

Princess Koukouhime had been in a complete daze until this moment. She had been embraced by her dear mother, pulled away by her dear father, brought to the royal palace without understanding anything at all—standing there dazedly, unable to even cry—but when she caught sight of this girl dressed in male attire, she gasped in shock and nearly let out a cry. Could this truly not be a dream? Why would Mikure be here? What had happened to her appearance? I thought it might be an illusion of my eyes, but it was no illusion at all. Her complexion was flushed redder than usual; though clad in men’s clothing, that hair of hers—purple and coiled. Her gaze fixed unwaveringly upon the king. Her lips pressed tightly together. No matter how she looked, it was exactly like Mikure... What could this mean? The resemblance was far too striking to be mere coincidence, and she stared at that profile with such intensity it might have burned holes through the air. Then, at that moment, the girl boldly stepped forward from among the six and approached the king without a trace of timidity. After removing her hat and bowing deeply, she addressed him in a voice like the chime of silver bells.

“Your Majesty. “I am the Queen of the undersea kingdom at the bottom of this country’s southern sea. “Having received Your Majesty’s proclamation through my servant Crab Servant, I have—though it shames me—journeyed all the way from the seafloor to present myself before you. “As I had no attendants to accompany me here, I adopted this male guise for ease of travel. “For appearing before Your Majesty, the Great King of the Land, in such an unseemly manner, I humbly beg your forgiveness. “Should Your Majesty graciously accept this token of audience—these few jewels I have brought—then I and all my undersea subjects shall offer our deepest gratitude for Your Majesty’s boundless magnanimity.”

As she said this, she took out a handful of seaweed from her pocket and held it aloft—but from within it, a large purple diamond’s light began to shine like a rainbow, illuminating every corner of the vast hall.

All the gathered people were captivated by this spectacle, their eyes and hearts ensnared as if intoxicated. And so, on the spot, that girl was chosen as queen—but Princess Koukouhime’s elegant beauty had also caught King Aimaru’s discerning eye, and she was appointed as the highest-ranking court lady among his attendants. Furthermore, the other four women became his personal attendants, remaining in the palace from that very day onward.

But Princess Koukouhime had not a moment to spare to concern herself with what role she had been given or how people were speaking of her. She was utterly absorbed in gazing at the figure of the girl who called herself the Queen of the Sea, so astonished she could barely comprehend. But in the midst of this, Princess Koukouhime suddenly recalled something terrifying and involuntarily shuddered. Could this girl be that... Demon they speak of? When Lord Koushio was ill, he stated that a demon had disguised itself as Mikure. Could that Demon be this Queen? If this were indeed Mikure, she would never be able to stand before me with such composure. And if she were neither Mikure nor the Demon, there was no reason for her to resemble Mikure so completely—from her appearance and voice down to the very curl of her hair. Demon. Demon. It must be the Demon. Did it disguise itself as Mikure to inflict grave injuries upon Lord Brother and now come transformed into the Queen of the Sea to become this country’s queen? Perhaps it cursed me and came to interfere with my becoming queen. It must be so. It must be so. Ah. Why is my family so deeply entwined with Demons? What a tenacious Demon.

As she thought this, Princess Koukouhime saw the Queen of the Sea—who until now had appeared as a beautiful girl in male attire resembling her sister—transform into a horned demon with a mouth slit to her ears. The terror of it nearly made her lose consciousness. And when she saw that Queen of the Sea approach near the King and don her queenly crown, even that vast hall seemed to spin round and round along with the multitude of people. And then, before long, all the people raised their hands and stamped their feet in unison—

“Long live the Great King of the Land!” “Long live Her Majesty the Queen of the Sea!”

As they shouted with a deafening roar, Princess Koukouhime involuntarily raised her voice—

“The Queen of the Sea is a demon!” she shouted, but pitifully, her voice was drowned out by the multitude’s voices, and at the same time, Princess Koukouhime—overwhelmed by terror—fainted and collapsed onto the floor.

Twenty-One: Dream of Death

How many days had passed since then, or how many hours—she could not tell—but when Princess Koukouhime suddenly came to her senses and opened her eyes, she found herself lying on a bed placed in the center of a beautiful room she had never seen before, wrapped in a white quilt. When she looked by the pallid light emanating from the silk-covered lantern lit above her head, she saw that on both her sides were the four women who had been present at the audience—now appearing as court ladies—leaning against the edges of her bed while tending to her, all four slovenly asleep.

Princess Koukouhime, still feeling as though she were dreaming, closed her eyes once more and drifted into a sound sleep.

Then, at that moment, a snake crawled slickly up from the shadow of the bed, glistening with jewel-like scales. It crept into the bosom of the soundly sleeping princess and quietly began sucking beneath her jewel-like rounded breasts. Before long, when the snake had sucked its belly full of blood, it began spitting it out drop by drop from its mouth—but all that blood turned into blazing crimson jewels that scattered down from Princess Koukouhime’s chest onto her bed and the floor. Sucking and spitting, repeating this process over and over, Princess Koukouhime’s body became as though buried in jewels.

At this moment, Princess Koukouhime was sound asleep, having a strange dream.

In that dream—unaware of when it had begun—as Princess Koukouhime slept, the sound of singing came drifting to her from some far distant place. The voice was so pure and beautiful, so closely resembling that of her younger sister Princess Mikure, that Princess Koukouhime wondered in astonishment where this singing could be coming from. As she strained her ears to listen, the voice gradually drew nearer until it seemed to be singing right in the adjacent room—yet she realized this song was not Princess Mikure's doing, but rather the handiwork of that red bird Lord Koushio had recently presented to the royal palace. The song went like this.

“Alas, pitiable Princess Koukouhime.” “Alas, sorrowful Princess Koukouhime.” “Parted from parents and siblings in life,” “Parted in death, parted in tears.” “Wearing a crown of flowers,” “Holding a bouquet of flowers in hand,” “Decorated with flowers, inside the carriage,” “Her body, buried alive,”

Princess Koukouhime became but a hollow semblance. The King of Aimaru Country, In the solitary strand of an aching heart,

Having come to today’s audience, The Queen of King Aimaru, Not herself, but her younger sister— Mikure? A demon? A demon of the sea? Now, deep within the royal palace, When she sleeps quietly alone, Hot tears welled up in her eyes, To the right and left, falling in streams, Streaming down as a dream, Proof that this is no dream. Seeing a dream within a dream, In a reality unaware it’s a dream, This painful, sorrowful feeling. The path of a self lost from its own— The one who knows in all the world, None other than the Red Parrot. In the world, she who is beautiful and obedient,

The woman among women, Why does Koukouhime, she who is seen,

"Why can she not become the king's queen? Mikure or demon or sovereign's— Who became queen? None else know. In black seas waves surge, In blue skies clouds swell, The world's eternal mysteries, Now manifest before your eyes— None but the Crimson Parrot." As Princess Koukouhime rose slowly while hearing this song, came to the adjacent room's doorway, and kept listening intently—the parrot's chant that had sounded until moments before ceased abruptly, leaving no hint of human presence in the chamber.

And then, from behind her where she least expected, someone gently placed a hand on the princess's shoulder. Startled, she whirled around—and there stood King Aimaru, her long-missed sovereign. The king tenderly took the princess's hand—

“Are you feeling completely better now? “When you fainted yesterday morning, I was quite worried, but have you completely recovered now? “That is the most joyful news. “Since night has already ended, why don’t the two of us go for a stroll in the flower garden?” Thus spoke His Majesty. Princess Koukouhime found this strange and remarked that since it was winter, there surely could be no flowers. His Majesty laughed warmly, then insisted, “Well, come and see for yourself,” before leading the princess to the flower garden.

When they arrived, they found something wondrous—flowers of spring and autumn blooming all at once, glistening with dew in the morning sun. Princess Koukouhime stood dumbfounded, entranced by the sight, while His Majesty smiled warmly— “What do you think, Princess Koukouhime? If I wish to make them bloom, the flowers will always blossom like this. But let me ask you this: among all these flowers here, which one do you like best? Red? Blue? Yellow? Or white? Black?”

Thus he inquired.

Princess Koukouhime was troubled for a response and pondered awhile, but eventually lowered her head sorrowfully— "I originally loved peach-colored flowers most dearly, but now I have come to adore blue ones." Thus she answered. Then, as the king remained utterly silent, standing rigid as a post, Princess Koukouhime found this strangeness so perplexing that she abruptly glanced up at his face—and what in the world? The king’s face had transformed into a terrifying blue demon’s visage.

Princess Koukouhime was so shocked she nearly fainted; without so much as a backward glance, she frantically fled the royal palace and returned home. Yet the moment she passed through the gate and breathed a sigh of relief in that very spot, she suddenly felt intensely lonely and sorrowful. And thinking to quickly see her dear father and mother, she searched throughout the house—but though it had been left unattended for merely a day, the house now stood completely empty. The garden lay thickly overgrown with weeds, the pond’s water had dried up, as though everything had utterly transformed. Princess Koukouhime, seeing this state of affairs, became so unbearably sad that she was about to collapse there in tears when suddenly, from behind, her brother Koushio came and caught her, asking, “Why are you crying so much?” Overcome with joy, the princess clung fiercely to Koushio—

“Ah...” “Brother!” “Father and Mother and that Mikure—where are they?”

she asked. Then Koushio, grinning all the while— "My younger sister has gone elsewhere briefly on an errand for her brother." "As for Father and Mother, they are now in a distant place, but the only one who knows where that is is ‘Shun’." "Right now, ‘Shun’ is hitched to the carriage in front of the gate—if you ride it, you should be able to meet them." he said. The princess immediately resolved to do so. When she hurried back to the gate to check, just as her brother had said, “Shun” stood there properly waiting with the carriage. She promptly leapt aboard, seized the reins, and cracked the whip high.

The carriage crossed fields and forded rivers, climbed over mountains and leapt across valleys as it raced northward like a shooting star, but when it eventually came to an endlessly vast sandy plain, the wheels sank into the sand, rendering it unable to move even an inch forward. This time, they abandoned the carriage and proceeded on foot. At last, they arrived at a place where nothing was visible in any direction except mountains of sand and peaks of clouds. There lay a man made of stone as large as a mountain, who—upon seeing Princess Koukouhime—heaved himself upright and spoke in a slender, gentle voice ill-suited to his appearance:

“What brings you to a place like this?” “Where did you come from, and where are you going?” he asked. The princess was so startled by the Stone Man’s immense size that for a time she could neither reply nor do anything else. However, as he did not seem ill-intentioned, she told him everything about her circumstances and earnestly pleaded, “Please let me meet my father and mother.” When the Stone Man heard Princess Koukouhime’s tale, he grieved deeply for reasons beyond his understanding. And then tore at his own hair—

“Alas.” “It’s all my fault.”

While crying and letting crystal beads fall profusely from his eyes, he soon regained his composure and turned kindly toward Princess Koukouhime—

“Ah, young lady. “That you have suffered such cruel hardships is entirely my fault. “I beg you to forgive me. “But since nothing can be done now, I shall instead tell you where your parents dwell. “Go there, forget all your past sorrows, and sleep peacefully. “You must never awaken. “For if you wake, you shall return to that dreadful King Aimaru and the Queen of the Sea, forced to endure fresh sorrows—prepare yourself accordingly. “You must walk straight northward now, as far as your feet can carry you. “If you do so, you shall surely meet your parents there. “Farewell. “Go with fortune. “Dear, dear Princess Koukouhime.”

No sooner had he spoken than he rolled over onto his back with a thud and fell fast asleep.

After parting from the Stone Man, the princess continued resolutely northward as instructed, and when dusk began to fall, she saw ahead a rocky mountain spewing pillars of fire and a lake glittering in the light of those fiery columns. The beauty of those pillars of fire. It was as though thousands upon thousands of fireworks had been launched all at once—crimson, azure, golden, and countless other sparks scattered chaotically as they danced upward into the vast sky. Yet strangely, when she listened intently to their roaring reverberations, did they not seem to resemble Father’s voice? Princess Koukouhime, overwhelmed with joy and forgetting her weary legs, pressed onward still—until this time, from somewhere unseen, Mother’s dearly missed voice reached her ears. Unconsciously drawn by that voice, the princess wandered in its direction until she eventually came to the lake’s shore—but the voice seemed to emanate from somewhere around the lake’s center.

The princess immediately waded into the lake with a splash, but the water gradually deepened, rising from her knees to her waist and then up to her chest. Undeterred, she pressed onward until finally, the princess sank completely to the water’s depths. However, it was not suffocating in the least; all around had turned green, within which the light from the fiery mountain shone down, taking the shape of numerous flowers floating about, until it had become exactly like a flower garden. As she made her way through them, parting and pushing through, she soon reached the very center of that flower garden, where her dear Mother stood clad in white garments. When Mother saw the princess, she smiled gently, then lightly lifted her up, and with tender hands began to stroke her hair while—

“Oh, where have you been all this time?” “From now on, you must not go out to play without telling Mother.” “You must be quite hungry.” “Here, drink your milk.”

As she said this, she opened her robe and let her suckle at her breast. The princess found both body and mind had somehow become those of an infant, leaving her with a feeling both sorrowful and joyous. Tears streamed unrestrained from her eyes, but soon, listening to her mother’s softly sung lullaby while suckling at the warm breast, she fell into a docile sleep. “The peony flower bloomed wide.”

The cherry blossoms bloomed wide. From within the dream bloomed wide. Adorable eyes bloomed wide. Mr. Sun beaming brightly, Mr. Moon beaming brightly, Adorable eyes and lips, All together laughing, beaming brightly, The lily flower closed. Mr. Sun sank. Adorable eyes growing drowsy, “Closed into dreams.”

Twenty-Two: The Unpainted Wooden Bed

The next morning, before night had fully given way to day, the royal palace’s front gates opened wide to both sides as two cavalrymen rushed out. Upon exiting the gate, they split into two—one galloped toward the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s residence, while the other raced off toward Duke Kouki’s home. After sending Princess Koukouhime off yesterday, Duke Kouki had immediately locked the gates tightly, moved the two children’s corpses to the Stone Deity’s chamber, and there wept through a full day and night with the Duchess—yet all the while, he remained deeply worried and anxious about Princess Koukouhime. Had word arrived yet that she had become queen? He had waited for congratulatory gifts to come from the royal palace at any moment, but throughout that entire day, no news arrived at all. In his extreme worry, Duke Kouki sent his retainer into town to gather rumors from the townspeople, learning that all six women who had come for the royal audience remained in the court—though details were unclear. When dawn finally broke the next morning, Duke Kouki opened his chamber window and gazed toward the royal palace. Then came the loud clattering of horseshoes from the palace’s direction—one set heading toward the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s residence, while another charged through his own estate’s gate before halting abruptly at the entrance. Duke Kouki, certain this must be news of Princess Koukouhime’s coronation as queen, hurried to the entrance without waiting for an attendant—and there indeed stood a tall cavalryman holding a magnificent, sturdy horse.

The cavalryman stiffened abruptly upon seeing Duke Kouki and saluted. And then, in clear tones— “By Her Majesty the Queen’s words, it is requested that Duke Kouki come to the royal court immediately.”

he said. “What? Did Her Majesty Queen Koukouhime command me to come immediately?” Hearing this, the cavalryman looked utterly bewildered, his face twisting into an odd expression. “Yes. Her Majesty the Queen does not go by the name Koukouhime.” “Wh—? Wh-what... What are you saying?” The cavalryman, startled by Duke Kouki’s voice and fierce demeanor, trembled violently. As his large frame—over six feet tall—quaked uncontrollably, leaving him unable to respond, Duke Kouki stomped down the entrance stone steps and seized the cavalryman by the collar—

“Wh-what… Her Majesty’s name—?” “U-… Queen of the Sea.” “What kind of person is she?” “A beautiful… woman.” “Fool… I already know that. What does she look like?”

“With purple hair hanging down…” “What?!” “A s-silver sword and… d-diamonds…” “What?!” “Sh-she’s… wearing a man’s robe…” “Demon—!”

“Demon—!” he shouted, pushing aside the cavalryman and rushing deeper inside. Without saying a word to his astonished household, he hastily belted on his sword, threw on his coat, and donned his hat; then he rushed to the stable, pulled out a horse, and leapt onto its back without even placing a saddle—kicking the beast’s flank so fiercely it seemed its side might split open. The beast, startled into madness, bolted out in a single leap—but as it kept circling the same spot without ever reaching the main road, Duke Kouki’s fury reached its peak—

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

he shouted, but when he looked, the horse had somehow already charged into the large circular paddock within Duke Kouki’s mansion and was running about in a desperate frenzy. Duke Kouki ground his teeth— “Hey! You damn beast! Head to the front gate!” Cursing all the while, Duke Kouki yanked the horse’s reins sharply and burst out through the front gate—leaping over flower gardens and lawns in a single bound—but by that time, the first cavalryman had long since returned to the royal palace.

Duke Kouki entered through the royal palace’s front gate, rode straight up to the entrance, and nimbly dismounted from his horse—though his hat had already blown off somewhere along the way. Then, without waiting for an attendant to receive him, he resolutely pressed onward into the familiar inner areas—but today, unlike usual, every corridor of the royal palace was lined with armored soldiers standing guard, all holding drawn spears and swords while staring fixedly toward the inner chambers as if ready to charge forth like covert agents. However, Duke Kouki paid no heed to such things and resolutely proceeded further inside, arriving at His Majesty’s private chambers—but there was only the throne remaining, with neither the King nor the Queen in attendance. And then, from the attendants’ room far beyond, came the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s voice in an unexpected panic—

“Your Majesty. “Calm yourself. “Calm yourself.”

When he heard this, he thought Now! and hurried in that direction. However, the moment Duke Kouki arrived at the entrance to the attendants' room and glanced inside, every muscle in his body stiffened at once, leaving him standing rigid as a stone statue rooted to the floor while glaring fixedly at the scene within. In the center of the room stood a beautiful unfinished-wood bed with a silk-covered paper lantern hanging above it. Upon the bed lay what appeared to be a corpse draped in white cloth, while at each bedpost four women resembling palace maids—their hair disheveled and having fainted—remained tightly bound. Across from the bed sat King Aimaru on a chair facing this direction, arms crossed and eyes closed, while before the bed stood the Blue-Eyed Old Man with hands outstretched. When Duke Kouki saw the face of this queen-shaped figure clinging to those hands while gazing up at the Blue-Eyed Old Man—what a revelation! There stood Princess Mikure herself, identical in every detail to the ice-encased figure that had until moments ago been enshrined before the Stone Deity since freezing solid overnight.

Even Duke Kouki—who had been utterly convinced of demons, demons everywhere—now found himself doubting both himself and his own eyes at this sight, turned so rigid he could scarcely breathe. He stared at the Queen with eyes wide as saucers. The Queen’s hair hung disheveled like seaweed, her face deathly pale, biting down on her trembling lips again and again, making no move to wipe the tears streaming down her face as she stared up at the Blue-Eyed Old Man—when suddenly, with a voice like she was coughing up blood, she screamed—

“Blue-Eyed Old Man.” “Please tell me.” “Is this a dream?” “Is this real?” Then, while staring at the Queen’s face as if to bore holes through it, the Blue-Eyed Old Man answered in a calm, powerful voice— “Whether this is a dream or reality is determined by Your Majesty’s own words.” “I earnestly beseech you—conceal nothing and tell me everything.” “I have just now received a messenger from His Majesty informing me that upon Your Majesty viewing Princess Koukouhime’s departed form this morning—though it pains me to say—you lost your composure and began uttering strange things beyond all reason.” “Therefore, having received His Majesty’s gracious command to pardon my past sins and attend immediately to Your Majesty’s illness, I came here without delay.” “However, upon beholding Your Majesty’s form just now, you have not succumbed to any such dreadful malady.” “What surprised me far more was how Your Majesty remains alive here before me.” “What could I possibly conceal?” “Yesterday morning—when Your Majesty still entered these halls as Princess Mikure—I most certainly killed you.” “That you would be alive here now—I had never even dreamed such a thing possible.” “By all means—there must be some profound reason behind this.” “I would never dare doubt Your Majesty’s words.” “Now then, Your Majesty.” “You need not worry in the slightest.” “After Your Majesty beheld the Stone Deity’s dream—what transpired? Pray recount it to me in detail.” “The tale of the Stone Deity is our nation’s secret—since ancient times it has been told that those who hear it become possessed by the demon dwelling within that very story.”

“Until today, I had kept that demon firmly sealed away, but it appears to have somehow escaped and taken possession of Your Majesty.” “In that case, there remains no need to keep secrets from His Majesty the King and Your Majesty the Queen.” “On the contrary, disclosing that secret and telling me everything without reserve would be far more advantageous for exorcising the demon.” “Here, there are none listening besides Your Majesty, His Majesty, and myself.” “Please speak without reserve, Your Majesty.” “I will clear away the confusion in Your Majesty’s heart and exorcise the demon for you.”

Even as he said this, he tightly gripped the Queen’s hand. The Queen no longer had the strength to stand and collapsed onto the floor. And then—

“Yes. Please, I implore you to listen. Then, consider well and save me.”

While saying this, she continued her words, wiping away tears—

“After I saw that dream, I shut myself away in my room day and night, pondering whether my past as Princess Mirume was real or my current life as Mikure was true—but I simply couldn’t tell.” “And as long as this remained unclear, nothing I did felt worthwhile—no matter what anyone said to me, I couldn’t bring myself to act.” “Koushio… dear Brother’s injury… dear Sister Koukouhime’s fate… all of it… somehow… felt like a dream.”

“Now, on the very day dear Brother sustained his injury—when I heard the Blue-Eyed Old Man was coming—I stealthily peeked through a gap in the door. But the moment I caught sight of his figure passing before me, I firmly shut the door… and fainted dead away. For the Blue-Eyed Old Man was indeed—just as I had imagined—the one who tried to kill me in that dream, calling me a demon, and so I thought if he found me, what would become of me.”

How long I had remained unconscious after that, I cannot say—but when I suddenly came to my senses, it was exactly midnight, and I found myself standing inside a cupboard. And there before my eyes was the bird-shaped latticework of the cupboard door.

For a while, I stood motionless, vacantly staring at the lamplight filtering through the bird-shaped latticework, unable to comprehend what was happening. I wondered if perhaps I was still not truly awake and seeing this all in a dream. Therefore, I steadied my mind, opened my eyes wide, and peered through the bird-shaped latticework. And when I looked across the room by the pale yellow light of the round glass lamp burning there, I could not help but doubt my own eyes. For there upon my bed lay a woman who looked exactly like me, wearing my nightclothes, her hair spread to either side of the bed just as I always did—sleeping soundly, no less… With a gasp of shock, I frantically checked my own garments—and what do you think I found? "My clothes had, before I knew it, changed into a strange man’s garments."

"A woman who looked exactly like you. And then you were in men’s garments…" the Blue-Eyed Old Man said in a haunted voice.

Twenty-Three: One's Own Sleeping Form

Outside, Duke Kouki, who stood there, clenched both fists as though to crush them, while the Queen too—shaking uncontrollably with unbearable terror—answered:

“Yes. It was the same man’s garments as when I came for my audience yesterday after declaring myself the Queen of the Sea.” “And then what did you do next?” “I was so astonished by the strangeness that I couldn’t move a muscle and simply stared at my own sleeping form.” “And in that moment, I could no longer tell which one was me.” “Am I Mikure? Is the other one Mikure?” If I am Mikure, then who is that sleeping one? If the one sleeping is Mikure, then what am I—this one who is awake? Could it be that I have been split into two by some magic? Otherwise, there’s no way they could resemble each other so perfectly. Or could it be that my body remains over there while my mind is here? Then whose body is this? Or has my heart become a ghost that escaped and manifested over there? Then whose heart could this heart belong to? Which one was real? Which one was a lie? Could both be real? Could both be lies? Are the one over there and the one here separate entities or one and the same? Could this be a trick of the eyes?

Could this be a delusion of the mind? Or perhaps it was a dream or illusion—I became utterly lost in such thoughts, thinking that if sunlight were to pour in at any moment, I might vanish and disappear. Even without that, as I stood frozen in place—wavering, fearing, trembling at the thought that stepping out of the cupboard might make me awaken immediately—I suddenly sensed someone approaching outside the window. At that moment, I felt something terrible was about to befall me—so terrified I couldn't even breathe out. Then as I stared intently from inside the cupboard toward the window, before long a person appeared—peering through it to look inside. "That was the Blue-Eyed Old Man—you."

“Ah—” “Then at that time—were you watching from inside the cupboard?”

the Blue-Eyed Old Man asked, holding his breath. “But how terrifying that moment was— “Now that you had finally realized I was in this house, you must have come to kill me, just as you did in that recent dream when you slashed open the ginkgo-leaf pouch—once again believing me to be a demon.” *Even so—does he think that Mikure lying in that bed is me?* *Or could it be that he knows I am hiding here?* “Whichever you might kill, I watched while holding my breath and trembling.”

“Alas! I was the one who killed the woman in that bed at the time, convinced she was a demon. To protect the secrets of this country. For the king’s sake. For the country’s sake.”

the Blue-Eyed Old Man shouted, forgetting himself.

“Yes. However, that was indeed a grave mistake. The woman you thought was a demon and killed was none other than Princess Mikure—no demon at all—and I, who speak these words, am indeed the true demon. From that moment on, I was no longer Princess Mikure.” “Eh. Eh—” The Blue-Eyed Old Man staggered backward, then assumed a defensive stance and stared at the Queen’s face as though to bore holes through it— “Your Majesty. Have you truly taken leave of your senses?”

“No, no. Not in the least am I mad. Nor do I tell lies. It was I who was the demon. It was I who was the demon—one who bore the exact same appearance as Princess Mikure.” “Hmm.” As the Blue-Eyed Old Man clenched both hands like stone and stared intently at the Queen’s face, Duke Kouki outside the room also involuntarily gripped his sword hilt and took a defensive stance. However, the Queen did not make a commotion. Remaining seated calmly on the floor, she continued speaking while looking up at the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s face—

“Your doubts are entirely understandable,” she said. “In truth, even I have not yet had those doubts dispelled. That is why I am confessing and speaking to you in this manner.” Her voice grew colder. “To tell the truth, it would have been a blessing had I turned into ice when you poured that poison on me back then. Because I survived against all odds, I became a woman possessed by a demon.” “At that time,” she continued, “when that girl was called a demon and came to her senses—‘I am Princess Mikure! I am the daughter of this house!’—she had barely cried out before you doused her with poison, causing her to collapse.” The Queen’s fingers tightened around her sleeves. “In that moment, I felt as though the blood in my body had frozen, and I thought both my mind and body had vanished together.” She leaned forward slightly. “But when I soon came to my senses again—strange to say—my heart at that moment had completely changed, swapped with that of a woman more terrifying than any in this world.” Her gaze grew distant as she recited her transformation like a memorized scripture: “From that moment until this morning, I was neither Princess Mikure nor anything else—I had become Mirumo, the daughter of a fisherman named Motori who lived near Lake Tarumi—a woman who, just like Princess Mikure, became Princess Mirume in her dreams and read the Stone Deity’s story written on ginkgo leaves alongside the White-Haired Boy—Mirumo herself, who vanished without a trace after diving to retrieve the mirror from the lake’s depths.” The Queen’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile as she recounted her next actions with clinical detachment: And along with that, I had completely forgotten that until just moments ago, I had been Princess Mikure—and as soon as you left Princess Mikure’s corpse behind and exited through the window, I opened the cupboard door and stepped out. Upon seeing Princess Mikure’s icy corpse lying on the bed before my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile faintly. And now, with this, Mikure was dead. After that, I thought that as long as I could just defeat Princess Koukouhime at tomorrow’s audience ceremony, I would undoubtedly become queen.

“Blue-Eyed Old Man.”

“I was indeed a terrifying woman.” “I was a woman even more merciless than a demon.” “When I first found myself as Princess Mirume in a dream and saw an illustration in a book I discovered at the ginkgo tree’s roots—one showing me becoming queen—I suddenly burned with desire to claim that throne.” “And with that, I yearned to learn how the Stone Deity’s story would continue.” “In truth, even after waking, I could not shake off Princess Mirume’s heart that I had glimpsed in that dream.” “Then when I awoke and beheld the Red Parrot, the Treasure Snake, and the mirror lying in watery depths, I became utterly convinced that dream held truth—and resolved to shape my destiny accordingly, no matter what atrocities it required.” “Thus I abandoned my parents, cast aside my husband, and journeyed alone to the capital to seize queenship.”

“After that, I committed all sorts of wicked deeds to become queen.”

“Blue-Eyed Old Man.” “When Lord Koushio sustained that severe injury some time ago, the Lord Koushio you initially saw was not the real Lord Koushio.” “I fraudulently took Lord Koushio’s horse and garments and came here disguised as Lord Koushio.” “Then, the second time—I rode upon Shun, ambushed Lord Koushio on his return path, and caused injury by colliding our horses head-on. Thus I brought his corpse to your gate, discarded it, and fled.”

“After that, once again I slipped into Duke Kouki’s mansion amidst the commotion and entered Princess Mikure’s chamber. When I looked, Princess Mikure had for some reason fainted and collapsed on the floor, yet no one noticed. Rejoicing at this favorable opportunity, I pushed the Treasure Snake—which I had hidden in my hair all along—into Princess Mikure’s bosom. That this marked the beginning of Mikure and Mirumo becoming so intertwined as to be indistinguishable—I could not have even dreamed of such a thing at the time.”

As the Treasure Snake began sucking blood from Princess Mikure’s chest, strange to say, I felt as though the blood in my own body were vanishing—and suddenly, my vision swam. Unable to remain standing, I collapsed onto the floor. At that moment, I thrashed wildly. And believing myself bitten by the Treasure Snake and drained of blood, I desperately clawed at my chest—until suddenly, the suffocating pain lifted, letting me heave a sigh of relief. But as I finally regained my senses, I opened my eyes and looked around... and what do you think? Contrary to my earlier account, I found myself somehow changed into Princess Mikure’s nightclothes, lying on the floor with the Treasure Snake clutched tightly in one hand. And right beside me—was there not a woman bearing my exact likeness in male form, collapsed on her back? I sprang up in sheer astonishment. Then, along with that movement, a handful of crimson jewel granules scattered from my bosom across the floor.

My state of mind at that time—it was not different in the least from when I had previously related my tale as Mikure. Truly, I could no longer tell whether I was Mikure or Mirumo. I could no longer even discern whom I had intended to kill by making the Treasure Snake suck their blood. Given the current circumstances, I could only think that I had pressed the Treasure Snake’s fang against my own chest to kill myself. I stood there dazedly, overwhelmed by the sheer strangeness, staring fixedly at the girl who lay before me—a girl who bore my exact likeness in the form of a man.

However, after some time had passed, I was finally able to calm myself and think. This was undoubtedly the work of a demon. The reason was that both Princess Mikure and I must have seen the same dream and heard the same demon’s tale—so it was certain we were both possessed by a demon. And since I had been the first to see things like the mirror, the snake, and the parrot, it was certain the demon was supporting me and imparting wisdom to me. It must have been instructing me to transform into Princess Mikure. When I thought it must certainly be so, all my doubts were completely dispelled. I was Mirumo after all. What lay ahead was Mirumo becoming the queen of this country. Thinking this, I rejoiced and took heart as if I had already become queen. Then I immediately searched the bosom of the collapsed Princess Mikure, retrieved the sleeping drug I had hidden earlier from the Blue-Eyed Old Man, made her inhale it, and hid her inside the cupboard. Thus, when the morning of the audience ceremony finally arrived, I intended to change clothes, lay the real Princess Mikure on the bed in my place, and make my escape. During the day, I would shut myself in my room and avoid showing myself to the household as much as possible, then rise at midnight to change into the clothes of Princess Mikure—who lay asleep from the drug—and leap out the window to commit misdeeds.

At this time, I was deeply impressed by my own cleverness. By doing this, even if the household were to discover me, I would appear as none other than Mikure. But on the very last night, I was finally discovered by you—the Blue-Eyed Old Man. At that time, I had gone to torment Lord Koushio, but when I saw that you—whom I had painstakingly lured out with a song—were returning, I hurried to return to my room. However, in my haste to remove the snake from Lord Koushio’s body, I caused him to awaken, and upon seeing me, he suddenly lunged and seized the clasp at my chest with his left hand. Even now, without a doubt, Lord Koushio holds one large diamond in his palm. I shook it off, fled back, and pretended ignorance as I lay sleeping. That was how I was discovered by you. When you poured the freezing poison over me, I thought I was beyond saving. “But once I fainted and collapsed, then regained consciousness—what do you think? Unbeknownst to me, I was standing inside a cupboard, dressed in men’s clothing.”

At that time, had even a trace of Mikure’s heart remained within me, I would not have become queen. I would have been spared from experiencing such terrifying, sorrowful feelings. But at this time, as I had completely become Mirumo in heart, I continued Mirumo’s work just as she was, without a shred of doubt or fear. At this time, having seen that Princess Mikure and Lord Koushio had become two corpses of iron and ice, I felt completely relieved. With matters in this state, Duke Kouki and the rest of the household would surely not come to tomorrow’s audience. In that case, there would be no one left to accuse me, so I could become queen without worry. After that—if I could somehow frame you, Blue-Eyed Old Man, into a crime and eliminate you, then forcibly confine Princess Koukouhime in the palace and kill her—I would be safe for life. Thinking this, I slipped out of Duke Kouki’s mansion. And then, in great haste, I hurried to the palace and made it in time for the audience ceremony. After that, as you know, I successfully became queen and made Princess Koukouhime a palace maid. “And then… and then…”

As she spoke these words, the Queen suddenly collapsed onto the floor and burst into tears. The Blue-Eyed Old Man, who had until now been stiffly bracing himself, upon seeing this, hurriedly knelt and took the Queen’s hand to pull her up. And while his voice trembled— “Your Majesty must not weep so—I cannot understand you.” “And then… and then what did you do?” he peered into the Queen’s face and inquired. At that moment, the Queen staggered abruptly to her feet, only to immediately throw herself onto the bed and wail—

“Please forgive me, Elder Sister.” “The one who killed you was not four women.” “It was I.” “I am Mirumo’s Mikure.” “Until last night I was Mirumo, and I could not bear my hatred for you, so I made the Treasure Snake suck your blood.” “And then… and then… this morning… when I saw you encrusted in crimson jewels… that sadness… that terror…” “Alas.” “Am I Mirumo?” “Am I Mikure?” “Alas.” “Father.” “Mother.” “Please forgive me.” “I killed Elder Brother… I killed Elder Sister.” “And yet… why… why won’t I die?” “Alas, how terrifying.” “Pathetic.” “I want to die. I want to die.” “I want to die together with you, Elder Sister.”

She clung to the corpse and cried and screamed as if she might vanish away. Tears immediately streamed down from the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s eyes as he witnessed this. Then, in a fluster, he rushed over and tried to pull the Queen away— “Your Majesty.” “Calm yourself, Your Majesty.” “Calm yourself.” “Your Majesty is indeed Princess Mikure.” “Now, both your heart and body are indeed Princess Mikure.” “The one who brought calamity upon your household… who killed Elder Brother and Elder Sister… was that Mirumo’s soul—now turned to ice—possessing you…”

He had just said this when—before his words could fully end—someone burst into the room with a thunderous roar and shoved the two aside. It was Duke Kouki. As soon as she saw this, the Queen raised her staggered and fallen body—— “Huh? Father.” Shouting in a loud voice, she tried to rush over, but Duke Kouki’s furious demeanor was so terrifying that she instinctively halted in her tracks with a gasp. And then, trembling uncontrollably——

“F-Fa...ther... Fa...ther...”

As she spoke these words, she gradually stepped backward and leaned against a wall to support herself. The Blue-Eyed Old Man too was startled by Duke Kouki's furious demeanor and remained sitting on the floor where he had fallen, staring dumbfounded at the minister's face. Duke Kouki strode briskly to the bed during that time and removed the white cloth. Beneath it lay Princess Koukouhime's corpse—from her hairline down to her neck, from chest to toes—completely encased in crimson jewels, her waxen form drained of all blood's vitality, lying supine upon the bed.

As Duke Kouki stared intently at it, his hair stood on end in an instant. His complexion turned deathly pale, and his eyes became bloodshot like fire. Then he gnashed his teeth with a grinding sound, trembling uncontrollably as he gripped his sword hilt with such force it might shatter, and glared fiercely at the Queen’s face—before finally roaring in a voice like spitting fire.

“Demon! Demon! You’re not Mikure! You’re not the queen! Nor are you even someone called Mirumo! You demon who used Mikure as a decoy and had the Blue-Eyed Old Man kill her, then killed Koushio, and now have murdered this Koukouhime to seize this country’s throne! Demon! You’re a great demon! Even if you spin baseless lies and try to deceive by impersonating Mikure, this Duke Kouki won’t be fooled! Strip off that disguise! Prepare yourself for vengeance against my child!”

The voice swirled through the room like a tempest. No sooner had he stepped back and drawn his glinting sword than he lunged at the Queen—his timing too swift yet this moment too late—but the Blue-Eyed Old Man seized him from behind in an iron grip. Then Duke Kouki ground his teeth—

“Hah! Let go. “You won’t let go?!” “You’re another one of the demon’s accomplices?!” “Have you been colluding with the demon all this time?” “Let go!” “Let go!” “You bastard!” The Queen rushed over and clung to the hand that was writhing in struggle. And then, while looking up at his face, she shouted—

“Please kill me.” “Father.” “I… can no longer… endure any more suffering.” “I cannot... I cannot go on living.” “With this sword… please, kill me resolutely.” “Please let me die together with Elder Sister.” “Blue-Eyed Old Man, please let go.” “These hands… Please release Father.”

She desperately grabbed the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s hands trying to pry them loose. Duke Kouki summoned every ounce of his strength— “Grah!” With that roar, he violently flung both figures away in opposite directions. As they still tried to cling to him, he kicked them down to either side once more, leaving both collapsed unconscious on the floor. At this moment, King Aimaru—who had been seated all along observing the scene with a cold smile—abruptly rose. Raising his right hand high, a fearsome serpent coiled around it, its jewel-like scales blazing brilliantly as its crimson tongue flickered incessantly. The King then proclaimed in a booming voice—

“Duke Kouki. “Look well. Listen well. “This snake is this country’s precious treasure. “Whoever brings this snake becomes this country’s queen. “Be it Mikure or Mirumo—such things matter not. “And slaughtering all who would harm the queen—this is the snake’s role. “I’ll show you no mercy!”

“What... What are you—?!”

Duke Kouki glared at the King with bloodshot eyes and shouted—

“Then you’re a demon too! If you were the true King Aimaru, you would never deign to possess such an abominable thing. You would never commit such a merciless act. You’re also a demon in disguise. The Queen is also a demon. You’re also a demon. Demon. Demon. You’re an archdemon! Damn, I didn’t know. I didn’t notice. If I’d known that… I would’ve had them exterminated sooner. There can be no mercy now. Behold—this Duke Kouki shall receive the blade of loyalty!” No sooner had he said this than he tried to leap at the King—but the moment they saw the King raise his right hand, the many soldiers who swarmed in all at once split into two groups: one surrounded the King to protect him, while the other encircled Duke Kouki, pressing spears against every inch of his body so that he couldn’t move. In that interval, the remaining soldiers picked up the unconscious Queen and Blue-Eyed Old Man and hurriedly carried them off to some chamber.

Surrounded by spearpoints, Duke Kouki became unable to move—standing rigid as a pole while gnashing his teeth and glaring around at the soldiers' faces—but soon clattered the sword he held onto the floor, then looked up at the high dark ceiling, each strand of his hair quivering as he—

“Aaaahahahaha!”

He burst into resounding laughter. The eeriness of it. The terror of it. The surrounding soldiers instinctively pulled back their spears and falteringly retreated. But Duke Kouki’s laughter continued resoundingly—

“Ahahaha!” “Ridiculous, ridiculous!” “Could there possibly be something this absurd again?” “What an utterly absurd thing!” “Ahahaha! I’ve finally remembered now.” “I remembered my old name.” “My name was Duke Miruro.” “What is this? Ridiculous, ridiculous!” “Ridiculous.” “Ahahaha!”

Mirume was reading a book. The White-Haired Boy was dozing. "Ah... Ah ha!" "What is this?" I thought this story was real.

"This, Mirume—" "Stop it." "Stop it." "Stop reading that book." "Isn't this too cruel?" "Isn’t this too pitiful?" "How can you read that so calmly?" Father could no longer bear to listen. "This." "Stop it." "Stop it, I say!"

While saying this, he staggered forward unsteadily, but upon colliding with Princess Koukouhime’s bed, he suddenly came to his senses. And so, leaning against the bed, he stared fixedly at Princess Koukouhime’s corpse—but in the blink of an eye, his eyes once again upturned to their former state. “Wha— “So it was true after all? “So Princess Koukouhime was dead? “Very well. If that’s how it is, then like this…” In the midst of saying this, he took off his own coat, swiftly wrapped Princess Koukouhime’s corpse in it, and no sooner had he shouldered the bundle than he dashed out of the room. Upon seeing this, King Aimaru—who had flared up in anger like fire—shouted from behind:

“There! Annihilate everyone in that house. Then set it on fire and burn everything to ashes.”

Twenty-Four: The Words of the Severed Heads

Meanwhile, the Blue-Eyed Old Man had completely lost consciousness and become unaware of anything, but when he naturally came to his senses—what did he find? Earlier, he should have fainted after being kicked by Duke Kouki before King Aimaru’s very eyes, yet now he lay upon a magnificent bed in some chamber of the royal palace, with four palace maids—previously bound—waiting nearby in attendance. And when he looked around more carefully, there stood King Aimaru by his pillow grinning away, while behind him all the palace officials were arrayed like stars bowing in his direction. Startled by this spectacle, the Blue-Eyed Old Man hurriedly slid down from the bed and prostrated himself on the floor—whereupon the King placed a hand on his shoulder,

“Oh, there’s no need for such deference.” “I’ve already forgiven all your past sins.” Upon hearing this, the Blue-Eyed Old Man prostrated himself on the floor and humbly declared—

“Yes. “I am deeply grateful, Your Majesty. “Having received Your Majesty’s words, I would face tomorrow’s death without regret. “If Your Majesty discerns my heart, how could I ever defy Your will? “I earnestly beseech Your Majesty to pardon all my discourtesies committed until this day.” He declared with heartfelt sincerity. King Aimaru appeared thoroughly pleased—

“Hmm. Your crimes have been completely forgiven by the Queen’s words, so rest assured. The Queen is now recuperating in the parlor. And she is crying tears of joy, knowing that you are the only one in the entire world who truly knows her. And so, as a reward for the loyalty you have shown your Queen today, the Queen has declared that from this moment onward, she will appoint you as Prime Minister of this country.”

These were words beyond all expectation. The Blue-Eyed Old Man, startled by the utterly unexpected words, cried out as if dreaming within a dream— “Wh— Me? As that Prime Minister— Th-that… Your Majesty, for someone like me—”

“Silence! Didn’t you just declare you wouldn’t defy my words? You misguided fool! Do you wish to share Duke Kouki’s fate?” In that instant, the King’s face contorted into the same terrifying visage as before.

“Wh— “And what has become of Duke Kouki?”

“Ha ha ha ha ha. Do you wish to see what has become of Duke Kouki? Very well. In that case, you shall go immediately to Duke Kouki’s residence and see what has become of it. And remember this well—anyone who dares show disrespect to the Queen, be they parent, sibling, or anyone else, shall meet such a fate.” He commanded in a stern voice.

When he heard these words, the Blue-Eyed Old Man recalled when the King had shown him the snake and couldn't help but shudder. And so he immediately left the palace alone and hurried to Duke Kouki’s residence to see for himself—but what did he find? There, in what had once been a deeply overgrown forest of towering evergreen trees facing the royal palace, Duke Kouki’s residence now stood reduced entirely to charred ruins—its buildings, floors, and standing trees all blackened—amidst countless rows of burnt wooden stakes from between which white smoke rose. And near the entrance lay Duke Kouki and his wife, their arms and legs severed, their bodies scorched all over, collapsed in a state too horrifying to behold.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man gathered their limbs with trembling hands, but they were already of no use. The corpses of the minister and his wife were by now torn apart and burned beyond recognition—even the Blue-Eyed Old Man’s efforts were powerless to save them.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man burst into loud sobs, overwhelmed by the horror. Hoping against hope that even one corpse might still be salvageable, he examined each of the bodies scattered in the darkness one by one as he moved deeper inside—when suddenly, in the center of the mansion, his hand brushed against something piercingly cold, making him recoil with a start. They were two corpses of iron and ice; the pale moonlight illuminated their terrifying white and black forms, somehow making it seem as though both were glaring at the Blue-Eyed Old Man.

The Blue-Eyed Old Man involuntarily staggered back falteringly. And then he stared intently at the two corpses. Then, wonder of wonders—a single severed head lying right behind the Blue-Eyed Old Man opened its white eyes, gazed at the moonlight, and began to twitch its lips—when suddenly—

“Liar.” The Blue-Eyed Old Man gasped and whirled around—but behind him lay only the groom’s corpse he had just examined, its limbs torn asunder beyond any capacity for speech. Thinking it must have been a trick of his ears, he turned to leave when—this time—a severed head from another corpse, separated from its body and lying on the ground, snapped its eyes wide open and fixed him with an unblinking stare in the moonlight—

“Disloyal wretch.”

they cried out. When the Blue-Eyed Old Man stood frozen stiff—his entire body numb with shock—the severed heads surrounding him all snapped open their eyes as one. From every direction they glared while beginning to hurl curses— “Disloyal wretch.” “Killed Koushio.” “Killed Koukouhime.” “Killed Mikure.”

“You flattered the Queen.” “You had Duke Kouki killed.”

“You stole Duke Kouki’s position!” “You became the demon king’s servant!” “You had even all of us slaughtered!” “And now you alone remain alive!” “You’re serving the demon!” “A traitor disguised as loyal!” “A villain masquerading as virtuous!” “Cowardly and shallow!” “You quack doctor Blue-Eyed Old Man!” “We were killed because of you!”

“Look at the multitude of corpses.” “We will return this grudge—” “We’ll repay this grudge upon you tenfold!” “We’ll make you suffer worse than death!” “If you can live, then live and see!” “If you can die, then die and see!” “Remember this.”

“Remember this.” As they hurled these curses in unison, their voices grew steadily louder until they reached such violence that eardrums threatened to rupture. The Blue-Eyed Old Man shuddered as though entombed in ice—his entire body trembling, vision blurring until he nearly collapsed—yet through desperate resolve, he rallied his courage— “You are all mistaken. “I have killed no one. “I became Prime Minister to safeguard this nation’s secrets… to infiltrate the imperial court and expose the demon’s true form… That alone is why I assumed this position. “And even that was not my choice. “The King compelled me. “It was neither I who brought Duke Kouki to such ruin… nor the King…”

When he said this, the multitude of severed heads all spoke in unison—

“Then who was it?” they said. The Blue-Eyed Old Man tried to speak but found himself unable, shuddering uncontrollably as he looked around—only to find the multitude of severed heads all staring fixedly at him, now about to lunge. And there, right at his feet, lay two corpses—one of iron and one of ice—still grasping at the void where they had fallen, these too glaring at him. The Blue-Eyed Old Man pointed at the ice corpse— “K-k-k-k... This... this thing!”

As he shouted this, his strength gave out all at once, and with a groan, he collapsed unconscious.

Then once more—suddenly near his ear— “We offer our congratulations to Your Excellency Prime Minister Blue-Eyed.” Hearing this voice, he opened his eyes with a start—only to realize in astonishment that everything he had witnessed until now had been nothing but a dream, and he still lay properly upon his old bed. And around the bed—just as before—a great many palace officials had gathered. The moment these officials saw the Blue-Eyed Old Man awaken, they all at once raised their hands and bowed their heads—

“Prime Minister Duke Blue-Eyed Your Excellency, we offer our congratulations,” they said in unison. When he saw this, the Blue-Eyed Old Man stood utterly dumbfounded, and no matter how much he thought about it, he could not discern where the dream ended and reality began. Then he wondered whether his mind had become unhinged from all these ceaseless worries. Yet seeing so many officials gathered like this, each voicing their congratulations, he could not deny—no matter how he reasoned—that he had indeed become this country’s Prime Minister.

Twenty-Five: The Unstoppable Flower Carriage

Meanwhile, Duke Kouki—now gone mad—sprinted through the corridor in one breath, carrying Princess Koukouhime’s corpse, and without mounting a horse, reached his own home straight as an arrow. The moment he passed through the gate, he threw Princess Koukouhime’s corpse—still wrapped in his coat—into yesterday’s flower carriage parked beside the entrance. Then he went to the stable, led out the prized horse Shun, hitched it to the carriage, and suddenly raised his whip—

“Return to the original world!” While shouting this, he struck its hindquarters so hard they might tear off. The horse, startled, reared up and abruptly charged out the front gate—just as soldiers from the palace pursuing Duke Kouki swarmed the thoroughfare in full force and let out a unified war cry. The horse grew increasingly panicked and charged into the midst of the soldiers while still pulling the carriage bearing Princess Koukouhime’s corpse, scattering and trampling those who fled in confusion as it raced down the thoroughfare like a gust of wind amid the commotion.

“There! There was someone riding in that carriage! Kill every last one of them! Don’t let them escape! Don’t let any escape! Chase them down!” Four or five soldiers shouted this, but with Shun—the finest horse in the land—now galloping madly, there was no hope of catching up through human effort alone. Raising a cloud of dust and thunderous hoofbeats, they plunged into the greens market at the capital’s southern edge like a bolt from the blue. Before the panicked crowds could scatter, they trampled through baskets of vegetables and fruits piled along the street, showering the carriage like hail, then charged into the neighboring meat market—tearing down hanging birds and beasts as they raced through—before leaping into the fabric market, scattering silk and cotton that snagged on windows and shafts. In the grain market, they were drenched in cascades of rice and wheat; in the pottery market, they shattered bowls to pieces; in the flower market, they trampled blossoms; in the fish market, they flung fish about—and after wreaking havoc everywhere, they careened down the broad southern thoroughfare.

In that time how many people were run over and how much merchandise was smashed—it was impossible totell. Even so Shuns’s carriagemaddened beyond madnessabsolutely would not stop. Still raising hishooveshighintotheair hechargedonwardandonwardwitharelentlessmomentumthatrefusedtostopevenindeath.

Just then, around dusk, from the direction Shun’s carriage was charging came Koushio—his face and body completely wrapped in tattered rags with only his eyes exposed—leading the White-Haired Boy by the hand. Seeing Shun’s carriage approaching with thunderous noise, he frantically tried to pull the White-Haired Boy aside to safety—but his timing proved too late. Like a gale, Shun’s rapidly nearing carriage grazed the boy’s back, caught the moon lute he carried on his shoulders onto its shaft, and went thundering away until it vanished amid cries of astonishment.