Pathway to Japanese Literature

Time.

Modern times.

Location.

The underwater Palace of Langgan.

Characters.

Prince.
Monk Oki.
(Aged sea monk) Beauty.
Scholar.

Lady-in-waiting.
Maidservants.
(Seven) Kuroshio Knights.
(Numerous)

In the solemn azure depths of the Palace of Langgan.
A black shadow loomed.
—Monk Oki.

Monk Oki. Maidservants.

First Maidservant (exiting through the door in pale Western-style clothing): “Yes, yes. This is our Venerable Monk.”

Monk Oki: “Ah—you’ve come in remarkably beautiful and unusual attire.”

First Maidservant: “It is our ceremonial greeting. I cannot say whether it’s beautiful or not, but there’s no doubt it’s a different kind of preparation.” She turned to address another presence: “Young Lord—your long-held wish has been fulfilled. The bridal procession will take place tonight.” Her voice grew formal again: “Since we learned Her Young Mistress would wear Shimada-style coiffure and long-sleeved kimono, we all agreed—to ensure her figure stands out all the more splendidly—to arrange ourselves thus.”

Monk Oki: “Ah, you’ve dressed most fittingly—but I wonder which shore’s custom this could be.”

First Maidservant: “Since you so often visit the sea’s surface, you should be well acquainted with such matters.”

Monk Oki: “No—one only reveals their form by cleaving through raging seas during storms. By custom, it’s mostly dark nights—so all one sees are ships of the dead and naked corpses squirming. Colorful women’s garments never so much as grazed my eyelashes. Verily, when young acolytes blew azure-flamed breaths seeking plain white robes or scarlet sleeves—probing between hull planks, through hawseholes, beneath masts’ roots and anchor cables—they found naught. But this monk long ceased minding such trifles, remaining ever unfamiliar.”

First Maidservant (Laughing): “How devout you remain.”
“Now imagine this—using cherry shells, suō shells, and all manner of seashells as stamens, waves of flowers bloomed white across the shore enveloped by blue mountains and green pines. There, the continent’s women in summer donned attire snowy with lilies, bellflowers, moonflowers, and evening faces—their figures cast afar in dawn’s light and moonbeams (lustrous hair upturned toward the vast lapis lazuli ceiling).”
“Ah, how poetic!”
“Since we deemed it beautiful, we all aligned our attire for tonight.”

“Even more splendid indeed,” said Monk Oki. “But when you paid your respects this morning, both the palace and the maidservants wore their usual attire.”
“At that time,” he continued, “tonight’s bridal procession ceremony for that beauty had not yet been finalized.”
“Humans being slow to decide… That’s precisely why you made preparations well in advance?”
“You completed these adornments with remarkable swiftness.”

“Oh, Venerable One,” said the First Maidservant. “Our jewel-like complexions—like autumn brocade across mountains strewn with white pampas plumes reflected in water—naturally manifest attire as we desire through mere thought. Have you forgotten?”
She pressed further: “As for the Venerable One... Even you would be no different. Were you to envision donning scarlet priest robes, you’d find—to left and right—peaks ablaze like solitary flames.”

Monk Oki: “W-well, enough—I understand.”
(Bending at the waist while raising his palm as if to restrain) “This is an inexcusable affair.”
Having grown accustomed to the hardships of dwelling beneath the sea—like shadows and sunlight, the passage of clouds, the shifting hues of the tide—
Freely as their hearts desired—he had forgotten their attire could form instantly through will alone.

Yet for this monk’s person, such ink-black nights proved fitting enough—had he rashly donned scarlet priestly robes, he would have resembled a sodden lantern or some befuddled ray fish floundering ashore.
Neither pressure nor stone held sway here.
(Carrying a long slender iron anchor inverted as a staff, he lightly thrust it upright.)

"No—I must not forget again," he thought. "I have come forth to present this matter before I forget." Raising his voice to the maidservants, he declared: "I shall request an audience with the Young Lord."

“Understood.”
“At once.”
“…Ah, this seems precisely the opportune moment.”

She pushed aside the right-hand door and proceeded.

Monk Oki peered into the chamber with reverent posture.

"Ah," he murmured, "there was no denying it."
Spring rustled through priestly robe sleeves.

Clutching his anchor-shaped staff, he walked slowly.

The Prince pushed forcefully, threw open the doors, and appeared hastily.
His stature flowed long like his countenance.
He swept his black hair down his back.
He wore a blue damask hitatare and a golden sword.
He stood composedly at the edge of the upper platform, one step higher than the main floor.

“Old man, did you see?”

The five maidservants, with the previous one at the forefront, smoothly followed and emerged.
All were in Western attire.
The fifth maidservant was the slightest in years.
Two remained on the platform behind the Prince.
The two descended from the platform to stand before Monk Oki.
The First Maidservant stood at his back.

Monk Oki: "Ah."
(He knelt upon the dais.)
(First Maidservant, having received the anchor-shaped staff) "Oh my, we most humbly beg pardon for intruding upon your rest."

Prince (affectionately): "Old man, business?"

Monk Oki: "From the treasure vaults of navy blue, ultramarine, pale blue, vermilion, and jade green—concerning this ceremony—I wish to report for confirmation the various items and quantities that were sent to the other party."

Prince (still standing): “Ah—those things sent to that woman’s father? This land-dwellers’ business they call *betrothal gifts*?”

Monk Oki: “Ah, no—most wise Young Lord.”
“There has been a misunderstanding on your part, Young Lord.”
“Among their kind, what they call ‘betrothal gifts’ involves parents forming marital bonds through the services of a matchmaker, presenting ceremonial offerings and an inventory list.”
“However, this time, the father of the other party hungered for the treasures of the marine realm under Your Lordship’s dominion. Should this desire be fulfilled, he most solemnly pledged to offer up to the seabed a daughter of peerless beauty—unrivaled in countenance and form.”
“That is to say, as you had sent him the treasures he desired, he had no choice but to fulfill his vow by sinking his daughter into the waves, as solemnly pledged.”
“Therefore, the vast quantity of treasures you deigned to send constitutes not what they term betrothal gifts, but rather what is commonly called a woman’s price.”

Prince (nodding lightly): “Fine. Regardless, it’s but a trifling matter—hardly worth reporting separately.”

Monk Oki: “Ah, but—though one might speak of mere scales and seagrass shells—since this humble monk has taken charge, most astute Young Lord, you may deign to find such matters troublesome... yet this old monk’s duty compels me to bring them to your ears.”
The ladies-in-waiting also attended to their duties.
(Casting a glance at the five maidservants) “I humbly request your attentive hearing.”

Third Maidservant: “Young Lord, your seat awaits.”

Prince glanced back: “Bring the chair here.”

The Third and Fourth Maidservants carried a white branch coral chair together and placed it near the platform’s edge. At the center of the upper platform stood a circular white Langgan table from Great Sui, bearing sunken luster. Two magnificent coral chairs—crimson as blossoms and white as mist—faced each other in their natural branching forms. The maidservants repositioned a single white chair.

Monk Oki: Red sea bream—8,000 large and small specimens.
Yellowtail and tuna—20,000 fish each.
Bonito and manabonito—10,000 fish each.
Halibut—5,000 fish.
Whiting, gurnard, flathead, minnows, goggle-eyed fish, kelpfish—combined, 700 baskets.
Wakame seaweed—those measuring six jō in width and fifteen hiro in length: 100 sheets per roll, 9,000 rolls.
Anglerfish—50 bags.
Tiger pufferfish—one specimen.
Giant octopus—one specimen.
Now then: pink branch coral from the Moonlit Shallows—one specimen measuring eight shaku in height.
(measured by hand)—Circumference: three arm spans.
Moon pearls, Flower pearls, Snow pearls—each comprising thirty-three one-inch grains and one hundred five eight-tenths-inch grains; thirty ruby gems uniform in grain, each matching a crane’s egg in size—these mounted upon a blue agate basin; three hundred emerald gems arranged to mirror the whorls of a peacock’s tail; a purple lapis lazuli stand; thirty-six crocodile skins glowing translucent through five colors; seventy pouches of placer gold.
Total weight approximately one million ryō.
Jambunada gold—ten kin.
Damask, crepe, twill, brocade; tree peonies, herbaceous peonies, chrysanthemum blossoms; golden bells; silver-edged moonflowers, dayflowers.

First Maidservant: “Excuse me—all those items just now—are they entirely the portion sent as ransom for the young lady?”

Monk Oki: “All as ransom? Hah—how preposterous.”
(Realizing) “Such wastefulness!”
“Ah—I merely inscribed these in Mirusu Fusa’s ledger-sleeve from memory and recited them swiftly with the tide’s flow.”
“Now then—where did I begin? With such numerous items—and their sheer quantity—”
“Ahem—red sea bream: eight thousand large and small specimens.”

First Maidservant: “Yellowtail and tuna—20,000 fish each. Bonito and manabonito—10,000 fish each.”

Second Maidservant (positioned before Monk Oki): “Halibut—5,000 fish.” Whiting, gurnard, flathead, greenling, rockfish, kelpfish—combined, 700 baskets.

Third Maidservant (positioned behind the Prince): “Wakame seaweed—those measuring 6 jō in width and 15 hiro in length: 100 sheets per roll, 9,000 rolls.”

Fourth Maidservant (similarly positioned behind the Prince): “Anglerfish—50 bags. Tiger pufferfish—one specimen. Giant octopus—one specimen.” Oh... (laughs).
All maidservants laughed.

Monk Oki (wiping sweat from his brow): “There, there—precisely, precisely.”

Prince (smiling): “Do not laugh—the old man is being serious.”

Fifth Maidservant (ever so slightly):
In unison, they took their positions behind the Prince.
(In a resplendently beautiful voice) "Pink branch coral from the Moonlit Shallows—one paired specimen: eight shaku in height, circumference three arm spans. Thirty-three one-inch pearls... Snow pearls, Flower pearls."

First Maidservant: "Moon pearls."

Monk Oki: "Just a moment."
"Enough, enough—that will suffice!"
"...the pink branch coral tree—eight shaku in height, circumference three arm spans—had been accounted for."
(To the Prince) "Ruby gems the size of crane eggs, emerald gems arranged in peacock-tail whorls, a blue agate basin, a purple lapis lazuli stand."
"This portion had been tributes to the celestial Moon Palace" (looking up in worship).

Prince: I too had thought as much while listening.
Monk Oki—regarding those golden bells and dayflowers you mentioned afterward; needless to speak of the gold, silver, and precious stones—I hear humans prize them no more than fish.
Yet were those same sent to that person?

Monk Oki: “Damask, brocade, peonies, herbaceous peonies—there was neither tangling nor scattering in these items, yet this old monk’s recitation has already become disordered like tangled seaweed.”
“Now then—those golden bells and dayflowers, Young Lord—were obtained during your recent journey when you rode your snow-white dragon-steed along the shores from inlet to inlet at dawn and dusk, diving through clouds dyed crimson and violet over mountain peaks—these rare finds were presented as gifts to your elder sister, Princess Otohime.”
The Princess had arranged pearl dew within a Jambunada gold vase and—it was said—did not part from it even at hand.

“Such things cannot be obtained often,” mused the Prince. “I too thought it must have been those very items presented to my elder sister.”

Monk Oki bowed deeply. “As you command.” His sleeves rustled like seaweed as he continued: “What we sent to the girl’s parents commenced with red sea bream and concluded at paired coral branches…”

The Second Maidservant interjected with practiced diplomacy: “To our realm these mean little, but for land folk receiving them—be it sea bream or halibut by thousands upon tens of thousands—it scarce counts as meager. Yet within scant days, such meticulous arrangements were made and dispatched.”

Monk Oki: “Indeed, that matter. Even if landfolk were to cast a single net across every nation, island, and farthest inlet—all they could harvest from the open seas would amount to no more than a dewdrop cupped in a shell. You ladies-in-waiting could scarcely imagine it—this immortal’s craft of baiting a hook’s tip to catch but one minnow.”
“The father of this bride, though not to such an extent, casts a net from a single small boat—spreading it as limply as a jellyfish—to scoop up minnows not even worth their weight in bubbles.”
“Because the yield is meager, satisfying their hopes with it requires such painstaking effort—truly tedious.”
“A maddening dead end—more vexing than trying to turn minnows into whales.”
(Addressing the Prince) “Young Lord, you are too hasty.”
“Your Highness decrees that he quickly fulfill his wish so you may claim the pledged beauty.”
“Therefore, we have slightly mobilized the Kuroshio and Akashio royal forces.”
The Akashio’s swords became flaming lightning; the Kuroshio’s black flags built peaks of black clouds that poured forth from the open sea with such force that they formed a tsunami engulfing the cove—sweeping away fields, homes, even mountains.
“To the beauty’s house in the corner—barring its gates and back doors, tatami-lined ceiling and all—they transported everything in unison up to the hillside behind the roof, in such a manner it became a ceremonial event.”

Third Maidservant: “My, how valiant!”

Prince (slightly lowering his gaze): “Not valiant.”
“Having swept away houses and fields—are the people of the cove not troubled?”

Monk Oki: “Nay, nay—the Kuroshio and Akashio did but flick them aside with a fingertip.”
“They stayed their hand from taking human lives.”
“Though were they inconvenienced? Hark—even amongst their own kind, that girl’s father alone grasped an unlooked-for bounty from our seas like mountains of gold, caring not a whit for others’ plight—how much less should you, Young Lord, our sea’s royal heir.”
“The human world’s troubles merit not even a hair’s breadth of concern in your noble heart.”

Prince (nodding): “Then it is acceptable—Monk Oki.”

Monk Oki: “Haha.” (Adjusted his posture ceremonially.)

Prince: “Did that parent find satisfaction in what we sent—this so-called compensation for their daughter’s life?”

Monk Oki: “Your Highness—precisely *because* he was satisfied did this palace perform the ceremony of submerging the beauty per your request. To be sure, red sea bream, bonito, yellowfin—those gilded fish alone left him wanting. But when they set upon the night shore a pair of branch corals spanning three arm spans’ girth, and he beheld their violet radiance beneath moonlit mountain ridges as if cradling a dream—that father prostrated upon white sand and drank from the waves’ hem. Ah, pitiful dragon god—though he would have laid down his very life, thus did he voice gratitude for your benevolence.”

Prince (smiling): “I’ll have none of that man’s life.”
“Taking in such souls would only multiply jellyfish and bring nuisance.”

Fifth Maidservant: “The Young Lord says such outrageous things!”

Everyone laughed.

Prince: “Yet Monk Oki—to be content with such trifles. Human desires are shallow indeed.”

Monk Oki: “Still, that runs quite deep.”
“To trade his only daughter’s life for marine treasures—this springs from greed’s very vigor.”
“…mere humans—in their swarms—wrap tender white flesh in flaming silk, steam it while hawking it off, as if manning a mountain checkpoint.”

Prince: "How foolish."
(Rising smoothly from his coral chair) "Beloved woman!"
"If you but wish it, I would give even my life."
"...Ha ha."

He smiled.

“The young mistress whom you have cherished traverses heaven and earth, crosses waves—she arrives blessed with good fortune.”

First Maidservant: “It would be well if she were to arrive soon.”
“We too are most eagerly awaiting.”

Prince: "I shall observe the journey's progress—inspect the state of her travels."
(Calling toward the door beyond the threshold) "You there! Bring forth the parlor mirror."
(The door opened.)
The Sixth and Seventh Maidservants reverently carried out a large full-length mirror draped in crimson brocade.

"Monk Oki—you shall behold this too."

Monk Oki: "By your leave."
(He advanced on his knees.
The maidservants positioned the mirror upon the table and unfolded its brocade covering.
The maidservants clustered at one edge of the table.)

Prince (pointing at the mirror’s surface, turning back to Monk Oki): “There it is, there it is.”
“That glimmer of light—that’s the one.”
“Will you not look too?”

The stage shifts.

For a moment, there was darkness; desolate, the surge of waves was heard.

Soon, a single lotus lantern—white-flowered and blue-leaved—appeared as if floating and swaying upon the waves.
Next, a red-flowered lantern of the same kind emerged at a height like midair.
Another emerged, slightly lower.
Another appeared, slightly higher.
When their number reached five, they revealed the stage of layered waves.

A beauty.
Her hair was arranged in a Kegashima Shimada.
She wore a white long-sleeved kimono with a figured satin obi and crimson underrobe, crystal prayer beads draped across her chest, her collar and sleeves dominating the space as she was mounted upon a snow-white dragon-horse above the waves.
About a rein’s length away stood a lady-in-waiting with her hair unbound.
Travel attire.
Barefoot, her kosode hem tucked up, she carried an ichimegasa in one hand and held a lotus lantern in the other.
The first point of lantern light was this.
The Kuroshio knights pressed in tightly around the beauty’s white dragon-horse, forming two lines on either side.
About ten.
All bore the features of Kunlun slaves.
In each hand they held spears tall and straight.
The spear tips gleamed white, sewing through black hair like inverted icicles.
Some had tied lanterns to their spears—this was why the lights stood so tall.
Some held them in hand; others tucked them at their waists.

“You must be weary,” said the lady-in-waiting. “Would you care to pause for a moment’s rest?”

The bride opened her eyes dreamily. “Ah...” She sighed. “Who... are you?” Her fingers tightened on the horse’s back through her skirts. “Is my body—feet to the sky—falling headfirst, falling and falling, sinking into the waves?”

“No,” replied the lady-in-waiting. “Your beautiful hair remains untangled by wind or wave.” Her voice softened with practiced reassurance. “How could your body possibly be falling? Such a thing could never be.”

The Bride: “When was it—when? Last night? Tonight? A past life? When I—alone—was placed on a boat without oar or rudder, set adrift upon a mat to be carried by the waves, when through my father’s pact I was being taken into the sea’s depths, lotus lanterns… said to be offerings for my memorial… scattered and floated at the waves’ whim around the boat’s sides, before and behind.”

Lady-in-waiting: “Since your eyes remain unacquainted with water, considering this lantern would serve both as your guide and memento—here—” (raising it) “—lies that very lantern.”

“Oh! The lantern hasn’t gone out…”

“The extinguishing of burning flames occurs only on land—where oil runs dry, where winds blow.”
“Once you are received into this realm, there is no wind here.”
“There is only the faint fragrance of flowers drifting through.”
“The paper crafts too have been replaced with jewels—the blue leaves with jade langgan, the red and white petals with true jade, white pearls, and ruby treasures.”
“The burning lanterns too are stars that flicker yet never extinguish.”
“Look upon this—you.”
“Did your garments get wet?”
“Your hair too has not become disarrayed.”
“How could your body possibly be falling?”

The Bride thought she saw the moon on a nearby peak of her homeland’s bay with one last glance. After that, the ship sank as if being dragged to the depths, and I fell into the waves. In that phantom vision, seeing that lantern-like blue shadow—whether my own soul departing from my chest into the distance or some guiding will-o’-the-wisp—I thought, but when I suddenly looked ahead, there too, ah! At what seemed the distant depths, a single moon shone with the same light.

“Ah,” said the lady-in-waiting, gazing at the light. “No. That is not the moon’s reflection.”

“But you—” The bride’s voice trembled. “I can see clouds like snow; I can see a lapis lazuli sky. And a pure white light shines through like silk threads.”

“Those clouds are waves; that sky is water,” corrected the lady-in-waiting. “What appears as a single moon is the marine palace where you shall soon make your entrance. There—that is where we welcome you.”

The Bride: “And then.”
“Having come this far... what will become of my body?”

“Ohoho,” (laughs) “I shall say nothing of such matters.”
“It is simply a joyous occasion.”
“I offer my heartfelt congratulations.”

“That…being cast adrift on an abandoned boat, being taken as a sacrifice to the sea—(peering) is this truly a joyous occasion?”
“Can this truly be called a celebratory occasion?”

“And how would it be in your homeland?”
“In our homeland, this is considered the most joyous and auspicious of occasions, you see.”

“How much farther is it to that place?”

“Comparisons to your homeland are tedious.”
“Ah—if measured by the Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō—making ten round trips each time, repeating three hundred circuits—it would amount to three thousand such journeys.”

“Oh… That much?”

“The dragon-steeds beneath you outrace the wind. Your path—a golden balustrade, a corridor of silver waves—will soon bring you through nothing but flower fragrance to your arrival.”

“The sea breeze, scent of the shore, sea pine and seaweed—beyond what I’d imagined as sulfurous stings in my throat—were truly crisp, exquisite fragrances...” (She fluttered her sleeve softly.) “...Yet why does this chilling, fishy stench sometimes linger?”

“Human souls yearn for you,” replied the lady-in-waiting. “Jellyfish draw near.”

“Human souls... you say they become jellyfish?”

“All ugly human souls that enter the sea turn into jellyfish,” she explained, “drifting about aimlessly in their wandering.”

“—Quiet.” The Kuroshio Knights hissed in unison.
“Shh! Shh!”—they scolded the air around their soundless dragon steeds.

“Oh! How pitiful... how shameful.”
(Covering her face with her sleeve.)

“No—you are the new bride of that palace’s Young Lord. You are no longer human.”

“Ah.”
(She drops her sleeve.—The scene shifts.)
(The stage turns pitch black.)—

“Let us hurry,” urged the Lady-in-waiting, her voice disembodied in the dark. “Should beauty catch their eye, black crocodiles and crimson sharks will strike.” The mounted guard shielded them fore and aft. “No cause for alarm—yet once we advance, you must witness that avenue of slaughter where blades cross and onslaughts collide.”

“Kuroshio Knights, please make haste.”

A lantern went, then another followed.
Drifting languidly, rising and falling as they proceeded deeper into the abyss.

The stage blazed with light; before them, the Palace of Langgan materialized.

The Prince adjusted the chair's position properly at the table and took his place beside the full-length mirror. To the right (when facing forward) was the seat of honor. To the left sat a crimson branch-coral chair, unoccupied. Having descended diagonally from that chair, Monk Oki now sat in attendance. He used a small chair of black coral. On another small chair facing directly forward sat a man dressed in nearly Tang-style Confucian attire with a jet-black beard—the Scholar.

Seven maidservants stood arrayed like blossoms amidst them.

“Scholar, I have summoned you.”

Scholar (bows respectfully).

Prince: “Look upon this.”
(He indicated the surface of the full-length mirror.)

“Through waves like lacquer between cliffs piled a thousand fathoms high—faintly illuminated by pale blue lanterns—guided a white horse by its reins: this is the precious one we now go to welcome.
On land where lions and tigers lie in wait, so too in these waters do giant monk crocodiles and bald-headed sharks—creatures that, upon spying a beauty, will attack mid-journey to suck jet-black hair, tear pale breasts, and drink exquisite blood. Thus for defense along the travel route, we have attached what few Kuroshio Knights were readily at hand.
They have their blades drawn.”

Scholar: “I fully comprehend Your Excellency’s most prudent strategy, yet—”

Prince: “Yet Monk Oki contends that emptying this fortress’s defenses—prepared against enemies—renders us vulnerable… But there’s no need for fear. While I remain here, no harm shall come to pass.
‘Moreover,’ he argues thus—‘A woman robed in white over scarlet, mounted horseback with jet-black hair stitched by spearpoints—this mirrors those parading criminals they called *hikimawashi* in that surface realm.’ He declares it ill-omened and abhorrent—this bride I welcome into my keeping.”

“Since it is indeed inauspicious, there are countless other means of protection along the way.”
“That matters not—I find it neither inauspicious nor abhorrent in the least.”

“Do you not see?
The face of the woman who entered my domain grows ever purer, like white jade wrapped in moonlight.”
“Her brows are beautiful; her eyes clear; her lips’ crimson vivid—not a trace of pallor.”
“She does not fret.”
“Clad in pristine robes, freshly combed, adorned like blossoms dripping dew—her figure astride that horse surpasses even flower fields drawn from embroidered mountains’ embrace... More resplendent than walking, than carriage, than palanquin—this I declare.”
“Moreover, I have our handpicked fiercest Kuroshio Knights—their very elite—clear the path with long spears as they advance.”
“Should this not be deemed a point of pride?”

Monk Oki nodded repeatedly.

Prince: “When I hear ‘parading,’ it must involve displaying shame—inflicting pain. They surround them with spears, raise banners, parade a figure proudly adorned in pale purity on horseback through town streets only to deliver them to the execution grounds and kill them—yet being slain thus would surely prove more pleasurable than perishing mundanely from illness. What manner of punishment is that? Even accounting for differences between land and sea, nations and sentiments—I cannot fathom such a penalty existing.”
“Monk Oki maintains that while his memory is vague, the recollection remains etched firm.”
“...Which is why I summoned you.”
“Shall I have you perform a brief verification?”

“I too retain some memory of this matter being mentioned,”
“Yet for prudence’ sake, I shall conduct verification.”
“Ah—would this encompass all terrestrial penal records? Or perhaps…”

“It’s too tedious—you may handle the remainder as you see fit. Simply verify whether there existed such a practice as parading women mounted on horses with spears raised. That is all.”

Scholar: “Rather than official histories, let us examine novels and Jōruri plays. For capturing the human sentiments and customs of an era, these sources are better suited than official historical records.”
(He opened a Western-bound book ablaze with golden light.)

Prince (sitting on the table): “This is quite an ingenious book.”

Scholar: “This is a work commissioned by Emperor Napoleon of France—long counted among the world’s foremost bibliophiles—when he embarked on his Spanish campaign in the year 1808. Commissioned by necessity through then-librarian Barbier, newly bound in cases—1,000 volumes total per shelf: forty on religion, forty epic poems, forty plays, and sixty other poetic works. Regarding the renowned duodecimo edition—sixty volumes of history, a hundred of novels—which you have heard tell of… Her Royal Highness Princess Otohime devised this through her ingenuity. A single strand of lotus thread was spread-woven into sheets each containing thousands of pages—ten thousand sheets forming one gathering, one hundred twenty gatherings bound into a single volume. When unfolded under this kingdom’s subtle light, all phenomena—humanity foremost among them, followed by flora, fauna, minerals, every elemental substance—manifest as minuscule typefaces. Each radiates five-colored brilliance: nouns, pronouns, verbs, auxiliary verbs, subjects and objects, punctuation marks—all individually illuminated in seven hues, naturally imprinting themselves upon these pristine opened sheets.”

“Her Royal Highness devised this.”
“—It must indeed be a most cherished treasure.”

Scholar: “Though cherished, Her Royal Highness has methodically arranged it within your library as well, Young Lord.”

Prince: “Then does it belong to me?”

Scholar: “Young Lord, you possess five hundred bookshelves of agate with mother-of-pearl inlay—each holding volumes identical to this booklet.”

Prince: “How fortunate I am to have such a sister.” He took up the volume and opened it. “This... it’s nothing but blank pages.”

Scholar: “With due respect, lacking the requisite preparatory knowledge, those naturally colored typefaces cannot manifest upon the page.”

Prince: “How mortifying.”

Scholar: “Not at all—Your Valor remains undiminished, Young Lord. When giant monk crocodiles and black sharks assail us, even your trained Kuroshio and Akashio Knights—nay, your own blade—would not suffice to repel them.” He inclined his head. “Yet considering Her Royal Highness Princess Otohime’s meticulous preparations, I must humbly recommend observing the ceremonial reading at each prescribed juncture.”

“Together with him, I too do humbly recommend this course of action.”

Prince (nodding): “Now observe this parade.”

Scholar: “Indeed.”
(Opening the book) “It was noted in a nearby Jōruri text.”
“Ah, here.”
“Young Lord—this concerns O-san, a famed beauty and young wife of Daikyōji Iharu, a townsman of Naniwa in Great Japan.”
“It records how her illicit affair with clerk Shigemono was exposed, leading to her being paraded and stoned.”

Prince: “Read it.”

Scholar recited: “—Crimson Lotus Well, Scorching Heat Hell’s cauldron-glaze—yet unwittingly upon this unhurried path crosses my form Death’s Departure Mountain; Death’s Field Overseer’s tillage lies ahead. Peering beyond wild margins—through winter solstice’s withered trees flicker naked spear-blades dreadful—”

Prince peered into the mirror while listening. “Ah... There lies some resemblance.”

Scholar continued: “——Again evening storms chill anew; snow-laden pines in grove stand firm. From this world she meets death amid such suffering—Shimada chignon loosened, tresses cascading down; face pale as bog rush; bound hands’ chill marks winter’s onset in my flesh alone. Tears become nails to pluck; sleeves frost-bound with ice.”
……

The maidservants listened intently.

Prince: “She has a fine figure—a beautiful form. Do you suppose society truly condemned that woman’s crimes for that?”

Scholar: “Firstly, it appears that—”

Monk Oki: “That is indeed so.”

Prince: “The woman on horseback—even if killed, her love fulfilled and feelings conveyed—must have found it her heart’s desire, I suppose.”

Monk Oki—ice had formed upon his sleeves. He appeared to grieve and mourn, with tears and such.

Prince: “Isn’t that the spectators’ heart—the act of watching this very procession? I don’t understand.”
(Shakes his head.) “Scholar—do you have any other examples?”

Scholar (reciting): “…has become the sorrows of the world.”
“Today she was paraded in disgrace at Kanda’s Collapsed Bridge; then at Yotsuya, Shiba, Asakusa, and Nihonbashi—crowds gathered without sparing their gaze.”
“Reflecting on this—even fleetingly—people ought not commit evil deeds.”
“Heaven does not permit this…”

Prince frowned.
——The maidservants all wore expressions of bewilderment.

Scholar: "...Since this woman was resolute in her convictions, her form did not waste away; each day as in times of old, her black hair was bound in a beautiful style."
“……”

Prince relaxed his expression.
The maidservants relaxed their brows.

Scholar: “I shall omit certain passages... Those who heard her tale were deeply moved, and as they watched her form—within life’s finite span, when the vesper bell tolled—by the roadside grasses of shifting station, her body became but bitter smoke.
“All people, no matter their path, could not escape the smoke—particularly the inconvenience that lay therein.
“—Thus, I understand they paraded her throughout Edo with spears planted in wanted notices until she was executed by fire at Suzugamori.”

“I understand.”
“That would be the girl named Oshichi, wouldn’t it?”
“She’s a woman I love dearly.”

“Look here.”
“Where exactly did she herself lament or grieve?”
Pitied and mourned by people, the woman remained utterly content—composed as she burned.
“Shouldn’t this be considered triumphant?”
“Why call this punishment?”
“If punishment it must be—then it’s mercy’s staff and passion’s whip.”
“To truly punish such crimes, one should leave them unharmed—let them muddle through foolish lives until wrinkled crones, ending their tales... Especially now—in Oshichi’s case—Her Majesty took her into the sea.”
The Suzugamori execution grounds neighbored the natural sea.
Her Majesty witnessed it.
Iron chains bound limbs; burning grasses left evening frost clinging to shoulders.
Smoke singed snow-white long sleeves.
Flames consumed scarlet-dappled silk.
More splendid than crumbling peonies—more vivid than blazing rainbows.
Love’s white-hot flame coalesced into jade, skin swathed in frozen celandine blooms.
Nectar from my sister’s hand poured forth, shadowing the offing.
Thus did Her Majesty draw her into ocean depths—does she not still bloom at seventeen amidst crimson coral in Her Majesty’s palace, hair adorned with floral pins?

The man did not die. Having survived, he took monastic vows and withered with age. For the daughter’s sake, Her Majesty had even accepted this outcome. Yet his soul transformed into a male jellyfish mid-journey—lingering with attachment at times to gaze upon the daughter, only to be repelled by red tides; ugly, swaying unsteadily through pallid ripples before dissipating. A pitiful thing indeed.

“Is the girl not happy? Both fire and water—fire becoming rainbow, water turning waterfall—embellished his life.”
“The punishment of unsheathed spears flanking that horse served no differently than to illuminate its honor.”
“—What say you, Scholar? Monk Oki?”

“But… but Young Lord,” said the Scholar, choosing his words with care, “though I hold this office, in truth I comprehend not a whit of human hearts or sentiments.” He pressed his palms together in formal deference. “Your recent words—they must remain confined to these marine depths alone.”

Prince (nodding calmly): "Even Her Majesty once said she did not understand."
"Moreover, if you do not comprehend this, then none can."
"I myself do not understand."
"Yet the circumstances differ."
"I see no ill omen in this equestrian figure welcoming him along the journey"—he pointed again at the mirror-like form—"that accompanies our procession."

Monk Oki: "Though in receiving your august command at this very moment, I discern no logic—nay, these matters surpass even this monk's understanding—still, regarding the encirclement by Kuroshio's unsheathed blades, it appears to this old monk no inauspicious thing."

Prince: "Granted, Monk Oki—but here I’ve grasped the meaning of the lotus lanterns too. Yet there’s one unfamiliar thing I spy." He pointed between the woman’s black hair and snow-white collar. "That bead hung at her chest—what is it?"

Monk Oki: "Ah." Leaning over the table with a chuckle, he corrected himself, "No, Young Lord—that is a crystal prayer bead strand. Prepared for her resolve to sink into the sea and knowledge of journeying to the underworld, it was bestowed by the temple priest."

Prince: "'Underworld'?" His voice sharpened. "...That notion itself is outrageous." A dangerous glint mirrored the beads’ sheen. "And that ominous gleam—is it... crystal?"

Scholar: “When we speak of crystal, these days we primarily use glass.”

Prince (with a scornful laugh): “For one who purports to be my lover, such trinkets are unnecessary.”
“But glass? What absurdity is this?”
“A matched set of diamonds and pearls would be fitting.”
“…Scholar, examine the choker worthy of presentation.”

“Understood.”

“And the color of the ring’s gemstone seems dubious—what do you all make of it?”

“Recently, at Kanterra lantern stalls, I have heard they peddle shells under the names Red Jewel and Green Jewel.”

“Are those shells—the ones from the foam of your makeup that flowed with the waves and scattered on the shore—supposed to be jewels?”

“The jewel merchants wear brocade robes and blue hoods—yet even what those splendid merchants sell is said to be rife with imitations.”

“Scholar—while you’re at it—we shall present a ring.”
“Monk Oki, go at once—though the journey be long—and along the way, promptly discard the glass and its counterfeit beads.”
“To our venerable elder—your efforts are acknowledged.”

Monk Oki (with a wry smile): “Young Lord remains solely concerned about Her New Ladyship’s delayed arrival—still unaccustomed to the sea—while forgetting that should this old monk vanish here, through divine power I could instantly manifest before the steed within that mirror. To receive such unexpected words about imposing labors upon your venerable elder...”

“Ha ha ha,” he laughed innocently, “I was rude.”

The Scholar and Monk Oki bowed once and withdrew via the corridor.
The maidservants courteously saw them off.

It was slightly awkward.

The maidservants all amiably gathered close around him, front and back.

"How impatient I am.
—I want to make this a distraction while waiting for the woman.
Does anyone know a song from that country?"

“I know of it,” said the Third Maidservant.
“At Naniwazu Port blooms this flower in winter’s seclusion; now into spring blooms this flower.”

The Fourth Maidservant added, “Young Lord, I know it as well.”
“Asakayama...”

“No—that’s not it,” said the Prince.
(As the Scholar opened a particular book) “The Tōkaidō travel song from the Land of Women.”
He had mentioned its name—something like that.
This book, it was said, could not reveal its text without some prior knowledge.
(Muttering) “Her Majesty has crafted a valuable—yet slightly deceptive—book.”
“Ah, what was it called...the Tōkaidō one.”

“It must be the Fifty-three Stations one. I know a little of it.”

“Why don’t you sing it?”

Fifth Maidservant: “Yes.”
(She sings cheerfully, gently, and sorrowfully.)

"The capital road’s three lodgings past fifty-odd…"

Prince: “Ah, there it is! The heading ‘Capital Road’ emerged in Edo’s bluish purple, arranged like dictionary entries.”
(He unfurled it further) “Continue.”

Fifth Maidservant: “...When time permits Edo’s blooms to flower—Shinagawa where waves grow calm—soon crossing Kawasaki’s bounds, Kanagawa’s eaves aligned in rows—Hodogaya nears without delay, dusk finds rest at Totsuka’s brow.”
“Fujisawa where violet perfumes linger—Hiratsuka stretching o’er wild fields—and Ōiso, source of ancient sorrow?”
“Odawara where frogs chorus—... (with mock villainy) ...I’ve forgotten what follows.”

Prince: “Look—green type now appears upon this cloud-white page.”
“‘Cross Hakone’s pass to Izu’s sea—Mishima’s shrine-fenced village—’ Come, I’ll fill the gaps you missed.”
“With this song to memorize the Fifty-three Stations—why not play that Tōkaidō sugoroku?”
“The upward path starts in Kyoto.”
“Near my sister’s residence.”
“Let one ascend—when the game concludes, this woman (gazing into the mirror) should arrive precisely.”
“To whoever reaches the summit first—that artificial auspicious fruit we’ll grant: ruby fruits cradled in agate pods.”
“The illustrations won’t be ready yet.”
“We’ll partition this hall into fifty-three spaces matching the game board—each advancing their piece accordingly.”
“...Dice are needed—fetch them.”

(Sixth and Seventh Maidservants bowed their heads and smiled together.) “What’s wrong?”

Maidservant 6: “At the time you had us procure the full-length mirror.”
Maidservant 7: “As we were playing sugoroku on the board together, we do possess the dice.”

“Interesting.”

“Gather at the end of the opposite corridor.”
“Then you may begin in sequence.”

Seventh Maidservant: “Shall we cast them upon the floor?”

Prince: “You came unbidden despite my purposeless summons. Even dice harbor spirits—yield them.”
(He received them) “I shall throw them onto the table.”
“You all—from first to seventh—shall move in sequence according to the dice.”
“Come now, gather round.”

(The seven maidservants eagerly gathered one after another at the far end of the corridor—the first one being you.
“I am second.”
Thus chattering in unison as they settled their order, they waited eagerly for the dice.)

"Ready?" he said, holding a book in one hand and casting dice with the other. "First moves three spaces to Kana River."
(One maidservant advanced.) "Second moves one space to Shinagawa."
(Another maidservant advanced.) "Three rolls five—proceed to Totsuka."

(Thus they progressed in turn through repeated cycles.)
The fifth maidservant—the youngest—broke from the group, rode the dice’s tally forward, advanced to the window at the corridor’s end, and distanced herself from the others.

Prince.
Prior to this, he had been staring into the full-length mirror, calculating the dice’s tally against the number of lodgings yet hesitating.
(...At this moment, he dropped his book in a moment of distraction.)
“Has no one reached the top yet?”

“I’ve finally reached Tenryū River alone.”

Prince: “How tedious.”
“Shall I roll two dice at once?”
(While holding them, he gazed into the mirror.)
The maidservants all fixed their gaze in that direction.

Fifth Maidservant: "Aah!"
(She screams.
Without pause.
Her figure—trailing robes—vanishes swiftly through the window.)
"Ahh!"

The maidservants cried out in unison—"Look! Look! A shark! A shark! The monkfish shark!"—their voices rising in chaotic uproar as they scrambled in disarray.

Prince: “The monkfish shark—what—” (He charged toward the window.)

First Maidservant: “Ah! About three hundred black sharks!”

Second Maidservant: “Surrounding her—swarming in.”

Third Maidservant: “Ah! The monkfish shark has it in its mouth.”

Prince: “You fiend! You fiend! Return that woman, fiend!”
(Scolding vehemently, he attempted to exit through the window.)

The maidservants clung to stop him.

Fourth Maidservant: “You’re being rash, Young Lord.”

Prince: “Release me.”
“Look at that!”
From between the fiend’s jaws, strands of the woman’s hair spilled forth and tumbled down.
Ah! Into her chest, into her breast—the fangs sank deep.
Oh—she’d let her guard down.
……Her bones and tendons must be snapping.
Ah, her hands writhed, her robes fluttered.

Sixth Maidservant: “No, Young Lord, we palace women—our bodies are softer than cotton.”

Seventh Maidservant: “Since we’ve bound lotus threads, even if the shark’s fangs clamp onto her spine and solar plexus—so long as they merely pierce through a single layer of tissue paper—they won’t draw blood or tear flesh.”

Third Maidservant: “The monkfish shark and its ilk prey upon beauty.”
“Her life will be spared for now.”

Fourth Maidservant: “In there—in there!”
“Oh my—do compose yourself.”

Prince: “No—my power exists to protect the weak.”
“I’ll reclaim her with my life on the line.”
“—Hand me the armor.”

Two maidservants rushed out, turned back, and together presented a suit of armor before swiftly casting it over his shoulders from behind.

The Prince pulled upward and donned the helmet that cascaded from his neck—a horned poison dragon’s head now crowned his form.
As he settled the fearsome visage, the maidservants arranged the armor’s hem.
Like a cloak it hung from his back, purple scales and golden spots shimmering in succession.

The prince took the sleeve once more, drawing it over his shoulder to fasten at his throat—this knot formed twin poison dragon claws flanking either side.
He tightened it swiftly.
The instant he stood upright, he drew his sword, raised it overhead, and snapped his gaze toward the window.

Six maidservants knelt in unison at his left and right, each drawing daggers in their hands and taking gleaming stance against the enemy.

“Fiend, do not retreat!”
(Staring fixedly and pulling his sword’s blade downward) He forced it to release the captive.
“Catch her.”

First Maidservant: “They retreated in awe of Your Majesty’s authority—you’d only just donned your armor.”

Second Maidservant: “That massive column—hundreds of sharks stacked like a centipede—ah! Scattering apart, scattering away!”

Third Maidservant: “Now they flee like minnows.”

“Oh! The Kuroshio knights have returned—they’ve returned!”

Fourth Maidservant: “Truly! The elder sister returning from her errand seized the captive and brought her down.”

Prince: “Tend to her. You all—go welcome them.”

Three maidservants each—one group proceeded inside the doors.
The other group withdrew to the corridor.

The Prince stood upright in the center, quietly sheathed his sword, and leaned against the white coral chair at his right.
Five knights made their entrance up to the corridor.

The knights all lowered their spears, knelt, and called in unison—"Young Lord."

“Ah! You’ve returned?”

“Unthinkable—especially at this hour.”

“It’s nothing. I remain unharmed. You’ve all done well.”

“Sir!”

“You must have gone partway—what of Monk Oki?”

“We led the remaining contingent and pursued the monkfish shark.”

“A worthy opponent. The battle must have been a spectacle.”
“All of you may rest.”

“We shall not sheathe our spears—we’ll secure the gates as they stand.”

“There’s no need for such measures—all is secure. Rest.”

The knights paid homage and withdrew.

First Maidservant made her entrance.

“Please set your mind at ease, Your Highness—her injuries are not severe.”
“However, she was terribly frightened.”
“Tend to her tenderly.”

“Two are attending to her,” (peering down the corridor) “Ah—she’s already reached the main corridor.”
(By the prince’s command, they draped a brocade cover over the mirror and entered the chamber.)

The Bride.
Led by the hand of the chief lady-in-waiting, she makes her entrance.
Her form solemnly bowed deep at the waist—features slightly drawn yet undaunted in bearing—she slowly advances along the corridor and ascends to the upper dais.
Even while climbing, her hem remains composed in its drapery.

Three maidservants emerged in attendance—two carrying two lanterns each, one carrying a single lantern, five in total—each hung them along the corridor’s eaves, then retreated just as they had come.
By the time the maidservants finished placing the lanterns, the lady-in-waiting proceeded to guide the Bride up to the upper dais—to the crimson-branched coral chair.
The lady-in-waiting bowed respectfully to the Prince and indicated the chair to the Bride.

“Please take your seat.”

The Bride settled herself into the chair as though being placed there.
The lady-in-waiting kneeled at the robe.

The Bride kept her head bowed in prolonged silence.
She finally raised her face and looked squarely at the Prince.
Her unblinking gaze held steady—a charged pause.

Prince: "You saw everything."
(He casually rose from his seat, approached the table's edge, and thrust out an arm to grab her hand.)
The Bride slipped from the chair like crumbling sand and pressed herself flat against the floor.

“What has happened? You—what has happened?”
(In a soft yet distinct voice) “Yes... I did come resolved, but to call this excessive—it’s truly dreadful.”

Lady-in-waiting (realizing): “Oh, Young Lord. Kindly remove your armor. It is only natural that you would be startled.”

Prince: “I could remove it—” (placing hand on the fastening, considering) “—or perhaps I need not. …The first impression will cling regardless.”
(To the Bride) “You there—you must not fear this armor. It is precisely because I wear it that I am strong.
It is through this armor that I wield power and authority.
Even now, it was by this means that I saved one of my maidservants from being bitten by a monkfish shark.”

The Bride (slightly raising her face): “So even your maidservants end up in sharks’ mouths… Is this truly such a terrifying place?”

Prince: “Ha ha ha! (laughs) You—where in this world does a land without enemies exist? Enemies fill every corner—those who offer up a single daughter… receive the sea’s bounty—are not your own parents already your enemies? You need only defeat them. I win through this strength, power, and authority. Even when we lie alone in our chamber, I shall not remove this armor. My heart loves you; my armor shields you from enemies, from foes, from the world itself. I am strong for the weak’s sake. Let poison dragon scales entwine you, claws embrace you, horns pillow your head—yet no harm shall touch you. While wrapped in this armor with me, you reign as the sea’s queen. Act with abandon—boldly, unbridled, imperious—follow your heart’s desire. Cloaked in scales and claws against your bare flesh, stroll Watatsumi’s breadth fearing no worldly gaze. No eyes will see you. None will point fingers. What some glimpse offshore they’ll mistake for pearl-light; what they gesture toward becomes Kiken Castle’s mirage.”

“As a woman—to be adored by gentle things, charming things, obedient things—what ultimate purpose does that serve? I love through scales, through horns, through claws. …I think I shall not remove this armor.”
(He returned to his chair with composure.)

The Bride straightened up and bowed. “…To my father you granted the sea’s bounty—the tsunami’s might that capsized our boat, the power that brought me here into these distant depths. Along the way came your envoys too—this diamond collar, this jeweled ring—” (her expression brightened) “—I have come to fully comprehend your august virtue.”

“A mere tsunami—such trifles are beneath my servants,” said the Prince. “Now then, take your seat there.”

The lady-in-waiting tended to her; the Bride straightened in the chair.

"What's a mere collar? What's a jewel?"
"That chair you're sitting on—that's coral."

"My, this is many times more than the branch my father received."

"That is grass."
"Compared to that, what's here is a great tree."
"The chair's height surpasses even land's mountains."
"The sight of you there must resemble lingering snow upon a sunset-drenched peak."
"The dragon head upon my helmet—set slightly apart—I imagine it appears akin to the golden shachi adorning the castle keep's ridge."

“Um... In human eyes... is that... you?”

“It’s a metaphor—to human eyes, nothing would be visible.”

“Ah, I suppose it would not be visible,” she said. “How embarrassing—to my human mind’s meager capacity, even this floor where I trail my robes appears but a single slab of Langgan jade. That such palaces exist—I never even dreamed of them, and I find myself quite ashamed.”

“Now—there’s no need for such humility,” he replied. “On land there are famous mountains and fine waters. There are steep peaks and great rivers.”

“But there are no such palaces on land.”

“You simply don’t know of their existence,” said the Prince. “Though the treasures of pearls, jewels, gold, and silver in the undersea Palace of Langgan shimmer through rainbows, Sarashina’s autumn moon and Kiso’s brocade-dyed mountains are in no way inferior.”
“…Upon those peaks dwells Tatsuta-hime, she who weaves the brocade leaves.”
“Do humans not know? Or do they feign ignorance even when they do?”
“They feign ignorance and refuse to see—the land is noble; its vistas are rare treasures.”
“Even now, when amusing themselves with backgammon during their journey, they didn’t even have a single sheet depicting the Fifty-three Stations.”
“Pictures too are precious.”

“You make such claims—yet do no living beings dwell within paintings?”

“No—they do reside there,” said the Prince. “The colors are all alive and moving. Yet people do not know. People do not see. Since they see yet pretend not to see, I will never say all humans are noble, nor will I call them beautiful. But the land is noble. But our sea—this very water—can raise a single surge of waves and drown that land. Noble and beautiful things alone do not perish… Among them all, you are beautiful. That is why I destroyed a coastal village and brought you here. Those who possess the power to destroy welcome what does not perish, and both love and protect it. You must rejoice, you must be delighted, you must not grieve.”

“You are exactly right,” said the Lady-in-waiting. “Even during our journey, I called this a joyous and auspicious ceremony. You must never grieve.”

“No, I will not lament.”
“I will not feel sorrow.”
“I only wish to show this state of mine to those who weep, to those who mourn.”

“Human eyes cannot see it.”

“And those from my hometown…”

“Could they possibly see you?”

The Bride (with some spirit): “Well... What about my parents?”

“Do you think they can see you?”

Thus, I am alive.

Prince (in a resolute tone): “Naturally, you are alive. However—when you sank from the ship, what resolve led you to come here?”

The Bride believed that meant death.
Everyone in my hometown thought the same, and my parents grieved most of all.

Prince: "Your parents would not feel any sorrow.
From the very beginning, they intended this outcome and obtained the promised wealth.
Moreover, they said they were satisfied.
In exchange for sinking their daughter into the waves, do they not grieve at all?"

The Bride: “But this is the affection between parent and child.”

Prince: “Such selfish affection.”
“This human affection—I cannot fathom it.”
(Shaking his head) “But very well. Let us name it affection then.”

“Father was overcome with tears,”
“When the small boat was cast into the waves, the spot on the shore’s sand where Father collapsed was precisely where the evening moon had once cradled purple branch coral.”
“And compared to the previous joy, the later lamentations must have been dozens of layers greater.”

“Then he should have returned that branch coral to the waves and undone the pact.”

The Bride: “No—but already, the marine bounty and branch coral had been exchanged for gold and silver, stored away in the family coffers.”

Prince: “Then he should have scattered that gold and silver—distributed it, discarded it, destroyed the storehouse, burned down his home—returned to being a fisherman with one tattered raincoat and one set of nets, and pleaded for his daughter’s life.”

The Bride: “Even so—‘Hand over the promised woman!’—a black figure resembling an umibōzu peered at the ceiling night after night, looked beyond the screens, stood before the wall panels, reproached us relentlessly, and insistently demanded.”
“He must have thought—‘It’s too late to say we’ve converted everything into the family coffers now.’”

Prince: “Did your father attempt to negotiate with that umibōzu—‘Please spare my daughter because I’ll revert to being a pauper’—?”
“He didn’t even try.”
“And yet—when sending you off on the boat—even if he collapsed on the shore in grief—was he not being tended by that young concubine he recently took in, surrounded by multitudes of servants, his new white walls and glossy roof tiles illuminated by the moon along the mountain’s edge?”
“How can that be called affection?”

“Yes...” (bows her head in shame.)

“I do not blame you.”
“If that’s human affection, let it be affection—it holds no relation to me.”
“I care not in the slightest.”
“But you—whom I love, dwelling in this palace—must not think of that homeland and grieve.”
“You must not feel sorrow—this I declare.”

“You.”

(Turns to face him squarely.)
(Her voice gaining strength) “I have not mourned—not once—from the very beginning.”
“Father grieved.”
“The villagers pitied me.”
“But I—if giving treasures to fulfill a pact and then taking the woman by upholding that pact—if that were merely a dream, then even boarding the ship would not make it sink.”
“If something truly draws others into the waves, it must be a living being with form—needless to say—possessing heart, soul, and voice.”
“Moreover, I believed it must wield authority and power, surely crowned with glory and light.”
Thus, even as others lamented so, I—cast adrift in that small boat—neither panicked excessively, nor wept in sorrow, nor maintained excessive composure.
If by chance the ship didn’t sink, all would be well.
There was life here after all.
If a rescuing hand existed, then that was a living hand.
I thought I could cling to that hand and live beneath the sea.

Prince (listening while smiling faintly): “Ah—” (to the Lady-in-waiting) “...This woman is remarkable!”
“From the start she hasn’t grieved—there’s no need to coax comfort.”
“I’m being gracious.”
“I thought to contemplate these pitiful blossoms I’d hand-arranged.”
“No!”
“This is a joyfully singing bird—amusing.”
“That too is delightful.”
“Hey—bring the wine.”

He raised his hand.
Suddenly the doors swung open, and three maidservants emerged bearing two jars of wine and a pair of jade cups upon platinum plates.
The lady-in-waiting took the cups and placed them before the Prince and the bride.
The maidservants withdrew.
The lady-in-waiting poured wine into both cups.

Lady-in-waiting: “Please partake.”

The Bride (demurring): “I don’t want any at all.”

Prince (gracefully sipping from his cup): “You—it’s not the least bit harsh.”

Lady-in-waiting: “Your pale pink drink is peach dew; that one is chrysanthemum droplets. In your homeland, were you not acquainted with these? In the sea, these are the finest beverages. It will purify your spirit—please partake.”

“That...peach dew,” said the Bride, turning toward the observation seats as she half-covered her face with one sleeve and drank while looking down.
(Taking a small breath) “What coolness—what refreshment—it feels as though I’ve been reborn.”

Prince: “It’s not that you’ve been revived.”
“You’ve obtained an entirely new life.”

The Bride: “Happy, happy, happy—you!”
“I want them to see that I’m alive like this.”

Prince: “There’s no particular need to show them.”

The Bride: “But people think I’m dead.”

“Isn’t it perfectly acceptable to let them indulge their assumptions?”

“But... but...”

“Is it with that affection—or whatever you call it—that you wish to show your parent?”

“Yes—it would be a pity not to let Father know first, then the villagers, and everyone else.”

Prince (leaning against the low table): “Do you wish to return to your homeland?”

The Bride: “No—this palace, these jewels, these rings, this wine, this splendor—I’ve no desire ever to return to my homeland.”

Prince: “Then what would you have them know?”

“But you—if I live unknown to others, that isn’t living at all!”

Prince (beginning to flush and grow sullen): "Hmm."

The Bride (with eyelids slightly flushed from intoxication blooming brightly): "A life unknown to anyone is not true life. These jewels too, these rings too—if people don’t see them, they hold no value whatsoever."

“That is unacceptable.”
(Tapping the low table lightly and standing) “You want to flaunt this splendor, do you?”
“That’s out of the question.”
“People must find satisfaction in themselves—in their own selves.”
“You mustn’t let others assign value and then conform to it.”
(Approaching) “People should live by themselves; preserving life is enough.”
“And if one lives alongside those they love, I believe there would be no deficiency whatsoever.”
“Even jewels are just as I said—if stored in a handbox, they retain only their intrinsic value as jewels.”
“When given to people, they radiate tenfold brilliance.”
“However, when flaunting them before people, their luster darkens and their essence turns ugly.”

“Yes, precisely… Even one of those jewels that were laid out in the forthcoming garden—if Your Highness would grant me this further permission—I shall most certainly devote to charitable works.”

“Here lies a prepared treasure vault,” said the Prince.
“All belongs to you.”
“Charitable giving is permitted.”
“But it must be done in secrecy—you shall neither reveal your name nor show yourself when bestowing alms.”

The Bride: “Then it would amount to nothing.”
“It holds no efficacy whatsoever.”

Prince (his countenance sharpening slightly): “You speak with remarkable presumption.”
“Yet by virtue of your loveliness, I shall allow it.”
“Songbirds must trill—the lark surpasses the stars.”
“The stars remain uncast.”
“This stems from the voice’s endearing quality.”
(to Lady-in-waiting) “You—pour.”

The lady-in-waiting poured.

The Bride (with a timid, reserved demeanor): "No, no—I would never think to display ostentation or splendor."
"Um, I only wish to inform them of the fact that I am alive."

Prince (coldly): “It would be better to stop this.”

The Bride: “No—as I’ve said all along, I haven’t a shred of intention to return to my homeland and remain there.”
“If I might just receive your permission—only to let them know I’m alive.”

The Prince silently shook his head.
The Bride clung as though desperate.

“Might I ask for your permission?”
“Might I not even go out for a little while?”

The Prince (cheerfully): “This is no prison—it’s a domain of absolute freedom and autonomy.”
“Those who lament or grieve go without saying—even those harboring the slightest sorrow or whisper of discontent aren’t kept here for a single day.”
“But I’ve already opened my heart to you and let you drink the sacred wine.”
“The farthest reaches of the sea, the outermost limits of the land—there’s nowhere you cannot go if you wish.”
“Your homeland? A single flight would take you there—you’d arrive in the blink of an eye.”
(looking at her with compassionate intensity) “But how pitiable.”

“Had you lacked that pride and vanity, this would have been something you need never have heard—something I never wished you to hear.”
“You—this.”

(The Bride raises her face.)
(Placing his hand on her shoulder) “You’ve come here—you are no longer human.”

“Yes.”
(She startles.)

“You’ve taken on a serpent’s form—you’ve become a beautiful snake.”

The Bride’s eyes snapped open.

The jewels adorning your form—the rings too—even the crimson and violet gleam of scales only shine through human eyes.

The Bride: “What—”
(She fell into a chair.)
On the maidservant’s lap, she inspected her sleeves, her back, her hands—each trembling with convulsive shivers.
(With snow-pale fingertips clawing at her temple hair as she jerked upright.) No—no—no.
No part of her had turned serpentine.
Not one scale marred her skin—none whatsoever.

Prince: “Not a single scale—and certainly no part of you has turned serpentine.”
“You are a beautiful woman.”
“But those are human eyes.”
“It’s how they see.”
“When you appear in your homeland, your father’s eyes, your friends’ eyes, your village’s eyes, your harbor’s eyes—every eye in your entire nation that beholds you—all without exception will see a great serpent.”
“The voice that speaks shows only tongues of flame flashing.”
“Your exhaled breath swirls with smoke.”
“Tears of grief stream sulfur that rots the grass.”
“Long sleeves stir up a foul wind that withers trees.”
Agonized skin clattered with scales as it writhed and coiled.
Through mortal eyes they saw—between strands of black hair longer than her stature—three strands, five strands streaking black along the great serpent’s back; this was to be taken as the lingering trace.

The Bride shook her head wildly until her hair disheveled. “Lies! All lies! You’re the one cursing people—hexing them! You’re the poisonous serpent here! This body that sank for my parents could never become some snake’s form! Let me go! Let me return home! Let me borrow my parents’ eyes—others’ eyes—friends’ eyes—to prove this body has no tail or scales! Let me go! Let me return to my homeland!”

The Prince answered, “This is a realm of absolute autonomy. Go freely if you must. Test it as you will.”

“Where… where is the shore of my homeland?”

Lady-in-waiting: “There—over there.”
(Points at the corridor’s lanterns.)

The Bride: “Oh—” (shudders) “I can see the shore where the ship sank.”
(She leaps up suddenly.
...Her disheveled crimson form like flames—thudding down from the floor—whooshing through the corridor.
The moment she moved, the five lanterns extinguished in unison.
The corridor plunged into darkness.
The Bride vanished into that blackness—only the stage’s upper tier remained faintly illuminated.)

“Hey—remove the cover from that standing mirror.”
“Let’s view the surface.”

Lady-in-waiting: “She’s such a troublesome lady.”
“However, she is such a pitiful thing.”
(Stands.
The stage darkens.—When it brightens again, all the maidservants are there in full splendor.)

Prince.
The Prince leaned back in the chair.
--At his feet lay the Bride collapsed prostrate--the bearing of one who had long since returned.
Hair disheveled; sleeves torn; obi undone.

Prince (calmly sipping from a jade cup): "How was your homeland?"
"...What troubles you? It unfolded exactly as I foretold."
"Your father's young concubine swooned at the sight of your dreadful serpent form."
"Did not your father and his manservant level firearms at that very serpent?"
"To begin with, even were they to see me, they would perceive a serpentine body."
"Such is the nature of human vision."
"There exists no purpose in such a place."
"You must not weep thus."

The Bride wept bitterly.

"Stop that—hey—stop crying."
(The Prince frowned.)

Lady-in-waiting (rubbing a back): “The Young Lord detests expressions of grief.”
“Since you’re being hasty—it would be ill-advised to upset his temper.”
“This is a place for joy, a place for song, a place for dance, a place for delight, a place for revelry.”

The Bride: “Oh yes—you must be so comfortable, so delighted—go on and dance, go on and sing! I—I will weep myself to death.”

“How could I endure being subjected to your weeping until death? What attachment could you possibly have to such a homeland? Fix your mood now. I will not permit sorrow here!”

“If you won’t permit it, then so be it. Yes—my homeland, my very body—all are your magic.”

“To what depths must you doubt?” roared the Prince, his face contorted with fury. “That they see you as a serpent comes from human eyes—I tell you this! My... magic...” He spat the word like venom. “I won’t allow it! Any woman who grieves dies!”

“Yes—yes—kill me then,” the Bride retorted, her voice cracking like thin ice. “This flesh wasn’t made for living.”

The Prince surged to his feet, chair scraping against jade tiles. “Where are my Kuroshio Knights?” His golden sword gleamed as he pointed at her trembling form. “Remove this wretch.”

Instantly, they kicked open the floorboards, and from that hole emerged the Kuroshio Knights shouldering a massive anchor.
Two or three knights emerged in succession.
They led the Bride away as one knight bound her to an overturned anchor.
Over the anchor’s blade, grabbing the disheveled black hair, they forced her head back.
The spear's blade pressed sharply against her chin.

“Ah, Young Lord.”

Prince: “Are you stopping me?”

Lady-in-waiting: “My lord—will the floor not be stained with blood?”

Prince: “A beautiful woman.”
“Plucking a flower amounts to the same—it merely scatters into petals and stamens.”
“I’ll store the rest in a handbox.—Kill her.”
(The knight adjusts his spear.)

Bride: “You—these vile fish fangs are detestable.”
“How cowardly of you!”
“Don’t just watch—kill me yourself!”

(The Prince nods, strides briskly forward in silence, draws his sword without hesitation, swiftly raises it before his eyes, pulls back sharply to assume a slanting stance.)
(They face each other.)

“Ah, you.”
“You who cut me—you who kill me—that face’s loveliness, nobility, beauty; those eyes’ clarity; those brows’ valor.”
“I saw for the first time—the loftiness of station—the grace of bearing.”
“I’ve already forgotten my homeland—forgotten everything.”
“Kill me quickly.”
Ah, how happy.
(The Bride smiled gently.)

Prince: “Release her.”

The knights rescued the Bride and withdrew to a corner.

Prince, still holding his sword,

“Come here.”
(The Bride’s hand was pulled.
Together they ascended the platform.
The Prince lightly took his sword.) He swore a lifelong pledge.
“Hold out your hand.”
(Taking her wrist, he drew the blade across her arm—a crimson line of blood dripped into the jeweled chalice.)
(The Prince drew his own arm across the returning blade’s edge—purple blood dripped into the jeweled chalice.) “Drink. Let us drink.”

They exchanged the chalice and tilted it back to drink.
The corridor’s lanterns all ignited and blazed simultaneously.

Look there—no sooner had they exchanged and drunk blood than purple and crimson flowers bloomed upon the rocks of your homeland’s shore.
Or are they stars?

(All present gazed intently.)
"What was that?"

“It’s a flower I once recognized... but I’ve already forgotten.”

Prince (examining the document): “Doctor. Doctor.”

Scholar (entering): “...You summoned me.”

Prince (pointing): “What is that flower?”
(He tried to pass the document.)

Scholar: “I am well versed.”
“They are gentians and pinks, Your Highness.”
“Through Her Ladyship’s heartfelt influence, their colors grew particularly vivid under this season’s frost.”
“They embody traces of Your Lordship’s and Her Ladyship’s blood.”

Prince: “Could mere humans grasp such matters?”

Scholar: “The insensitive would remain oblivious.”
“Yet poets and painters might perceive it, I should think.”

“You’ve realized now—this was no malicious curse of mine.”
The Bride bowed her head. “Cast me away... for eternity.”

All present: “――Long live their union!――”

Prince: “All of you, take your rest.”
(All exited.)

The Prince and the Bride took a step hand in hand.
Beautiful flowers fell.
They took two steps—then halted abruptly.
When they moved three steps, music was heard.

“With one step flowers fell; with two steps came a delicate fragrance; now at the third step, joyful music arose of its own accord,” said the Bride. “Is this paradise?”

The Prince laughed sharply. “Ha ha ha! How could I endure being equated with such a place? Listen—there are no men in the paradise where women dwell.”

(He began loosening his armor’s fastenings, moving gradually with the music as he stood slightly askew, concealing the dragon’s claw against her back. Her snow-patterned sleeves glimmered faintly against purple scales.) “Nor do women exist in the paradise where men go.”

――CURTAIN――

Taishō 2 (1913), December