Pathway to Japanese Literature

Location: Echizen Province, Ōno District, Kashima Village, Kotohiki Valley

Time: Modern.

――Midsummer

Name: Hagiwara Akira (Bell Tower Keeper)

Yuri (Maiden)

Yamazawa Gakuen (Literary Scholar)

Shirayukihime (Deity of Yashagaike Pond)

Mannen Uba of Yuo Pass (Retainer)

Shirao no Koishichi (Anthropomorphic Carp Spirit)

Ōkani Gorō (Giant Crab Spirit)

Kinome Pass's Yamatsubaki (Mountain Camellia Spirit)

Sabae Tarō

Sabanami Jirō

Itadori no Nyūdō

Bones of the Thirteen Mounds

Numerous Shadow Figures

Kuro Bōzu Namazuiri (Messenger of Ken-ga-mine)

Yojū (Peasant of Kashima Village)

Various Others

Kashima Takazane (Shinto priest)

Gondō Kanpachi (Village Council Member)

Saita Hatsuo (Elementary School Teacher)

Hatenoue Kadenji (Village Head)

Dengiku (Gambler)

Kogarasu Burosuuke (Junior Sumo Wrestler)

Anakuma Kōzō (Prefectural Assemblyman)

Names mentioned in the play: — (Shirayama Ken-ga-mine, Prince of Senjagaike)

At the village beneath Mount Mikuni, the Dusk Six Bells were heard.

――The curtain rises.

Hagiwara Akira, now wearing a white wig, stood atop the bell tower gazing out at the sunset.
The bell tower had ivy-entwined pillars, moss-covered high stone steps, and grass sprouted on its ridgepole.
Akira gradually descended the steps and went behind Yuri, who was washing rice in the clear stream.

Akira: “The water is beautiful.”
Akira: “Whenever I look… it’s beautiful.”

Yuri: Yes.

On the water’s edge grew irises, two or three small blooms opened.

Akira: It’s beautiful water. (Smiles.)

Yuri (touching the white hair at her temples): “But it’s white, you see.”

Akira: “That’s from rinsing the rice.”
...(sitting on the frame’s edge) “You’ve toiled hard in the kitchen. Such lovely hands shouldn’t be worn by chores—perhaps I ought to help.”

Yuri: “That’s quite unnecessary.”

Akira: “Well... Though I meant helping, even so you look beautiful—like late-blooming irises seen through their reflection in water.”

Yuri: “I wouldn’t know about that.”

Akira: “Who would get angry at being praised?”

Yuri: “You’re just teasing me, you see.”
“And Master shouldn’t be coming out to a kitchen like this.”
“Please come quickly to your desk.”

Akira: “A master ringing the bell is absurd.”
“Actually, I’ll just rename myself Gonkichi and get straight to dinner.”
“I’m so terribly hungry that I thought if the mallet I just used to ring the bell could become a walking stick, that’d be just fine.”
“Then again, there’s also the seated variety of pestering.”

“Hohoho, there you go again... I’ll have dinner ready soon, all right?”

“It’s not magic—the rice you’re washing isn’t going to instantly turn into a meal, I tell you.”

“Oh my, such things— This is for preparing the next morning’s portion, you see.”

“The next morning’s portion— Ah, running a household—that’s as it should be.”
“No—hearing that should’ve put me at ease, but now I’m just disappointed and even hungrier.”

“What are you talking about… I’ll make your favorite snipe stew for the side dish too, so please stay put.”
“Even if you say you’re hungry, people will laugh when they hear it.”

(Climbing onto the veranda) “Who do I need to hold back for? The one people will laugh at is you, you know.”

“Yes.”

“When we both sleep in—”

“I don’t know.”
(She smiled gently and looked down.)

Akira: “Those bush mosquitoes have swarmed in annoyingly.”
“I’ll smoke them out at the back veranda.”
(Storehouse, facing away to look up at the mountains)...The cloud peaks had burned away—Mt. Mikuni blazed like fire.
To the west lay Ōmi, to the north Kaga, and faintly beyond, the mountains and peaks of Mino—all encircled by drought’s flames as if lined with tens of thousands of torches.
The flames seemed reflected in Yashagaike Pond as well.
Right above that water, even the Evening Star glowed red...There was still no sign of rain whatsoever.

Yuri: “...They say the water connects here from Yashagaike—where that dragon dwells.”
“Whether it’s my imagination or not—the clear stream here has grown terribly thin.”
“These days, there’s been such uproar in the village.”
“...This dreadful heat...I fear it might harm your health—in this remote mountain village where even food grows scarce, it weighs so heavily.”
“I can’t stop worrying about it.”

“What do I care if the flow’s thinned?”
“You’re the one who shouldn’t waste away this summer on top of it all.”
“Yuri—why not touch that evening glory flower?”

“Yes? What would you have me do?”

“There should be dew on both the flowers and leaves, don’t you think?”

“Ah, cold,” she said. “The flowers are damp with dew—as cool as the water’s edge.”

“People may need money, need fields, need rain—but for us two to live, we wouldn’t dry up even after a hundred days of sun. If there’s dew, that’s enough.”
(He closed the shoji screens facing outdoors.)

“You must be feeling the heat. Even if you leave them open, people likely won’t pass by here anymore.”
“Why on earth would you worry about that? …If you close up in the evening and smoke them out properly, the mosquitoes become much less of a problem.”

The smoke from the mosquito coil wafted,

Gakuen.

A sun-bleached Panama hat，a Western suit，a composed figure．
Carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle slung over his shoulder，wearing gaiters and straw sandals，and using a cane-style Western umbrella as a staff，he emerged beneath the bell tower．
He looked up and gazed at the bell．

“This morning I crossed Dawn Six Bells Bridge and heard Dusk Six Bells toll here…”

Yuri transferred rice into a basket.

Yamazawa: “Well, you’re quite diligent.”
(He called out.)

Yuri: “Yes.”
(She turned to look.)

Yamazawa: “On the way—when I came out to the bamboo thicket at Nawate... In that darkened area, I heard it just now.
The one that tolled the hour must be this bell, I presume.”

Yuri: “That is correct.”

Yamazawa: “The sound is noble as well!
……That’s a splendid bell.
Would it be all right if I were to go up and take a look at the bell tower?”

Yuri (holding a basket): “Yes, it’s no trouble at all.
However, honored guest, you must not strike it playfully with your cane or such.”

Yamazawa: “I’m not here to buy watermelons.”
“I would never dream of striking it.”
(He laughed.)

Yuri: “You jest…… No, I would never presume you to be the sort to play pranks. However, that bell is not to be rung except thrice daily—at Dawn Six Bells, Dusk Six Bells, and once at the Midnight Hour. Forgive my forwardness, but I felt compelled to mention it.”
“Well then, please feel free to go up and take a look.”
(Approached the evening glory hedge.)

“Ah, wait a moment… Please wait.”
“I do intend to view the bell, but since we’ve exchanged words by chance—though this may seem terribly presumptuous—might I trouble you for a cup of tea or hot water?”

“It’s a simple matter.”
“Now then, honored guest, please have a seat here.”

Yamazawa: Please excuse me.
Yuri: How utterly unseemly this must appear.

“This—it doesn’t look like a temple kitchen either. Is the main hall located separately?”

Yuri: No—it burned down long ago. There has been no temple here since before that time.

Gakuen: Only the bell…

Yuri: Yes.

Gakuen: Only the bell… I see. Now about that watermelon matter.
(He removed his hat and stroked his nearly shaven close-cropped forehead.) "Ah—speaking of watermelons—you wouldn’t happen to have any melons inside? Though this hardly seems like a tea shop—" (He glanced around.)

The Katayama household’s fading evening scene; lamplight glowed on the low storehouse’s shoji screens of the thatched cottage.

“I won’t trouble you further with dinner requests, but I’m quite famished.”

Yuri: Hoho.
(With a light laugh) “There are pears cooling under the bamboo pipe. I’ll bring you some.”
(and moved around the shade of the evening glories.)

Yamazawa (gulped down tea, took a folding fan from his clothing pocket, fanned himself, then shaded his eyes to look): Oh, they’ve bloomed.
“As if gazing upon your face.”

Yuri: Pardon? (she asked in return.)

Yamazawa: No—rather, as if gazing at the color of your hair.

Yuri: Once one grows old, they’re past the age for flowers.
“If only I could quickly become dried gourd shavings... That’s all I wait for now.”

“Please pass the penknife here... I’ll peel it.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose and make you uneasy.”
“Well then… As a traveler roughing it—and though clumsy—I can at least peel a pear’s skin skillfully.”
“Ohhh… It’s chilled even more thoroughly than ice.”
“This must be what they mean by carving jade.”

“You appear to be journeying… Honored guest, from where to where might you have traveled?”

Yamazawa: “Well, I’ve announced my name, but there’s no particular mountain pass I claim to cross. As you see, I work at a school—wandering about on what one might call scholarly sightseeing during my summer recess… though now I’m returning home. Should Kizume Pass prove cool, or famed Nakano Kawachi… (glancing at mountain ridges beyond the eaves) If it’s true that a teahouse girl in a red apron dwells at that peak’s shop, even the smallpox god’s station would pose no hindrance. I may yet cross Yunoo Pass. Before settling on that—I was in Kyoto.”

“Where will you be staying tonight?”
“Honored guest… tonight’s lodging.”

“You really shouldn’t ask about lodging so carelessly,” Yamazawa cautioned. “If I take your words at face value, I might end up shamelessly begging for a place to stay.” He chuckled dryly. “Hahaha—no, that’s a mere jest. But tell me truthfully—do those tea girls at Yunoo Pass still tie red aprons around their waists?”

“You may think it unbelievable amidst these mountains upon mountains,” Yuri replied, “but I swear it’s true.”

“If valley princess lilies bloom crimson,” Yamazawa mused, “there’s nothing strange about red aprons.” His gaze drifted across the peaks. “But look how these mountains pile upon themselves—when I consider those summits... the sunset clouds seem to scorch the very crags.” He fanned himself absently. “Compared to aprons, even fearsome snow women might make Nakano Kawachi preferable... who can say? At any rate—this heat! I’ve only just caught my breath here.”

“In the village… people are dying… This dreadful drought…”

“Since dawn I’ve trudged through ascetic trials—eight or nine ri beneath this scorching sun—yet what chills me most… Only here have I found what might truly be called water.”
“This… this appears to be living springwater.”

“It wells from the cliff behind us—channeled through bamboo pipes to cascade down… A slender stream indeed… Yet when it strikes these rocks…”
*Rin-rin*… Such pure ringing tones… Hence we name this place Kotohiki Valley.”
“Honored guest… This cold springwater tastes sweeter than any jewel.”
“…Might I draw you a cup?”

“How could I have endured until now? Before even the bell tower knew—when I saw this beautiful water—I bent over like a dragonfly, pressed my mouth to it, grabbed it with my hands, and gulped greedily.”

“Oh dear—what should I do? I polished the rice without realizing it.”

“No—it seems the rinsing water became iris dye and evening glories’ adornment instead. Yet the downstream water remained crystal clear—not even slightly clouded. But though the entire village seemed desperate for drinking water—and while their avoiding this source is understandable—I don’t recall seeing anyone drawing from the stream either... Might there be some particular reason for that?”

“Um, it wells up from the cliff behind us, though.”

Yamazawa: "Haa, haa…"

Yuri: "The water's source lies deep in these mountains—it's called Yashagaike, Demon Pond. A massive pond it is. They say a dragon dwells in its depths—that approaching it brings fears of poison.—Though it's grown too dim for you to see now, Honored guest, the stones in the stream where water splashes—streaked with purples and greens, mingling pebbles small as lip rouge—are truly beautiful. Yet villagers claim they're scales shed by the pond master's retinue... that's why they call them eerie."

“Beautiful stones as venomous snake scales?” Yamazawa exclaimed. “Oh! Gulped greedily—I’ve gone and done something rather excessive.” He struck his chest with a folding fan.

“Oh,” (smiling) “we’ve been drinking it morning and evening all these years without issue, yet people still doubt it.”

“Quite so, quite so,” said Yamazawa. “To doubt things is human nature. With your assurance now, I shall have no cause for concern whatsoever. You’ve been drinking it morning and evening yourself—reaching this age—” He looked up pensively. “How old might you be?”

Yuri fell silent.

“Well now—forgive my bluntness—but how old might you be?”

“I beg your pardon... I’ve quite forgotten...”

“Ha! They say one may ask a lady when she’ll die,” he laughed, fingers drumming his fan’s ribs. “But never when she was born—so goes the country proverb. How dreadfully forward of me.” His eyes narrowed in mock penitence. “I shan’t phrase it as ‘how old are you?’ Let us instead say... how many years might grace your countenance?”

“How many years... did you say?”

“The required payment.”

Yuri: “Um... The price—for what?”
“Treasure… Oh, that’s absurd!”
“We do not accept payment for tea or such things.”

Yamazawa: “Tea is tea, but no—this sounds as bushy as a beard—how odd.”
“Of course I’ve had tea—and plenty of pears as well.”
“Even in trade, receiving no compensation weighs on one’s conscience.”
“If my bluntness is unwelcome, I’ll hold my tongue—but as you see, this traveler’s life leaves one rather disheveled.”
“Please state the fee properly and accept it.”

Yuri: “If you insist to that extent, I shall accept some payment.”

“Of course.”

“But—even if we speak of payment—it need not be confined to treasures. Instead—even a brief one would suffice—pray grant me a story.”

“Proceed with this ‘story’… What manner of tale do you mean?”

“Tales from your travels to various places—interesting and rare ones.”

Yamazawa: “That story?”

Yuri: “Yes, I will accept it in place of payment. Not limited to distinguished guests—be they medicine peddlers, ascetics, pilgrims, or even the people of this village—when those who ask for payment come, I ask each and every one of them for a single tale. If you kindly share many tales, I shall also offer lodging.”

Yamazawa: “Hmm, this is indeed a tale.”
(Patting his knee) “Fascinating.”
“Let us proceed with the tale.”
“…But now, speaking of tales as payment—it’s not like we’re receiving ceremonial rice from Nagasaki or anything of that sort. Ah, I just remembered.”
“And this is in Echizen.”

Akira opened the shoji slightly and peered through.

At that moment, he turned toward the small desk. He opened the storybook, took up the brush, and was about to record the guest’s tale when he and Gakuen suddenly met eyes—and for some reason, blew out the lamp with a puff.

“What kind of story might it be, honored guest?”
“…By the way, aside from you, is there anyone else here who might hear what I’m about to say?”

Yuri: “No, there is nothing but Lady Moon outside.”

Yamazawa: “No wonder the lamp went out... Ah, this mosquito-repellent smoke—I can hardly see... Yet moonlight streams into the storehouse.—Wait now.
“The Echizen tale I began earlier concerns a rice cake that transformed beneath the floorboards.
“For instance—when I speak here, something under the veranda mimics my words exactly.
“The whole village gathers round—‘What creature does this mimicking?’
“If they ask ‘A fox?’—it answers ‘No.’
“‘A tanuki?’ No. ‘An otter?’ No. ‘A demon? A tengu?’ No, no... At last when they ask ‘A rice cake?’—it cries ‘Yes!’ and vanishes.
“I meant to tell that tale... but since they say Moon hears us outside, I’ll begin anew with another story.
“Listen well—
“This was in the summer before last—”

“A certain person—my close friend—had long aspired... to gather strange and wondrous tales passed down through various lands.”
“Though he never expected to cover all Japan, that summer he left Tokyo on holiday, determined to cross valleys and trace mountain ridges through the remote northern provinces.”
“And from that moment—he vanished without a trace. No letters, no news.”
“A man with living parents and siblings—they searched every means possible, but finding not a single clue, even we friends finally abandoned hope, concluding he no longer existed in this world—that he’d died—until we settled on marking the day he departed the capital as his death anniversary.”
“No—for a time it became a newspaper sensation, stirring up tremendous scandal across society…”

“Suicide? An accident? An unnatural death? Over such futile matters they gathered and whispered, wringing their sleeves as they exchanged theories! A man with no reason to hide his tracks or die—you see, the world is full of strange happenings, isn’t it?……”

“Ah, honored guest, honored guest—I am deeply grateful.”
“……I am truly deeply grateful.”
(she said bluntly.)

“Is expressing such gratitude meant to substitute for the tea fee?”

“That’s quite enough.”

“Then that was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“…What was interesting was the previous tale about the transformed rice cake. The latter is quite enough.”

Yamazawa: “Now, the tale proper begins—what I related earlier was but the premise.”

Yuri: “That will suffice… And honored guest—the night deepens. Securing lodging will grow troublesome for you ere long…”

Yamazawa: “Nay, your own terms state lodging may be granted in exchange for tales. ‘I too would claim this boon—for my story bears true substance.’”

Yuri: “Honored guest—’tis unseemly to hear lodging pleas from a woman’s lips… What mean you by such words? Were you to beg shelter here…”
“I had thought you a man of cool purity… Yet to seek lodging where only women dwell… Such things… They unsettle me.”

Yamazawa: “Does it unsettle you? This isn’t some shape-shifting rice cake.”

“In such a mountain dwelling, city folk are more dreadful than phantoms… Now then, honored guest.”

Yamazawa: “This—to be pushed out so cruelly...”
(He rose reluctantly.)

YURI: (following him out, as if to shoo him away) Please take your leave.

Yamazawa: It’s just women here—am I not even permitted that much?
"This isn’t the Potted Trees story, but we’ve firewood to smoke out mosquitoes... Had this been an inn in Tokoyo, they’d not treat guests so coldly."
"...At least the snow spares us."

YURI: Even were snow to fall during this hundred-day drought of midsummer... (Standing erect, she fixes her gaze on the storeroom before turning eyes back to Gakuen.) Fare you well.

“Excuse me.”

Akira (appearing from between the threshold and mosquito-repellent smoke): “Yamazawa. Yamazawa.”
(calling curtly)

Yamazawa: “Hey—Hagiwara? Hagiwara?”

Yuri: “Oh—you.”
(She runs up to him and, as if to halt his advance, drops to one knee and presses her hand against Akira’s chest.)

Akira: “I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay—it’s okay.”
(saying in a low voice) “There’s no way to put it into words—Yamazawa—well… well—this way.”

Yamazawa: “I’ve no words either.”
“Nine times out of ten I thought it might be you—and seeing your face now, or even judging by your earlier manner—I thought so again—but I never imagined—” (returns to the threshold) “First off—what’s with that head of yours?”

“I know my head’s a bit off—well, forgive me and come up.”

“Nothing but dust here—pardon the intrusion.” (He enters the seating area after wiping his feet.) “But that head aside—what of the white hair? The white hair, eh?…”

“This? Just because I dwell in the valley doesn’t mean a serpent devoured me—this is a wig.”
(He removes and discards it.)

“Ah…” (stealing a glance at Yuri) “Naturally, that… well…”

“This is Yuri.”

Yuri clung prostrate to Akira’s knee as he straightened his seated posture.

Yamazawa: “Ms. Yuri? Your wife… no—your Madam…”

Akira: “Who here is crying? Wipe your tears, compose yourself properly, and greet him.”

As he spoke these words, Yuri—looking thoroughly abashed—hid herself between the threshold and storeroom.

Akira: “Now that you’ve roused me from my dream by patting my back, I’m tormented over whether to return to Tokyo.”

Yamazawa: (voice trembling with emotion at Yuri’s kindness) “No—merely seeing my face won’t wake you from this dream, Hagiwara. If it’s a pleasant dream, there’s no need to force yourself awake… But Hagiwara—even within this dream, you mustn’t forget—back in your Tokyo home, your parents and…”

“Hmm.”

“As for your situation—it’s unclear whether their lifespans were shortened somewhat—but everyone is safe for now.”

“Ah, I see.”
“Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me.”

“I’m truly sorry!”

“Well, what’s the reason for this?”

“Please listen as if it were a dream.”

“Of course, I think of it as a dream.”
“...”

“As for the details—we’ll talk through the night—but as you know... I set out to travel northern provinces seeking tales from various lands.”
“Yet I myself... became a tale entire. A sorcerer moves mountains to seas, turns men to trees or stones, transforms stones into leaves—”
“Changes leaves to frogs, they say... You’ve just arrived here to become someone within a tale... I’ve gone beyond—I’ve become the tale itself.”

Yamazawa: “Don’t say such eerie things.” He hesitated before continuing: “Then… your wife…”

Akira turned toward the storeroom—she was likely changing clothes or smoothing her hair… With only a single sliding door separating them, he had gone out through the rear entrance…

Yamazawa (straining to peer through the storeroom): “Hey—is there water? Before the reed leaves… Moonlight glinted on the comb too. The luster of hair freed from the wig—perhaps because this was called snow country—still lingered white. The nape and spine showed through the garments… Breathtakingly beautiful… Is your wife… some kind of sorceress?”

Akira: “Don’t say such pitiful things—absurd.”

Yamazawa: Hmph.

“This land, this village—the Kotohiki Valley itself—is what I call a single sorcerer.”

“Yamazawa, have you heard of what they call Yashagaike Pond in these mountain depths?”

“I have heard of it.”
“Moreover, I came all this way—some five ri from Imajo Station—specifically to see that pond.”

Akira: “Two years ago, I too thought to see that pond and entered this valley alone—that’s how I ended up like this.”
“—Here lies the bell—”

Yamazawa: “There it is!”
“They say it must be rung thrice daily—Dawn Six Bells, Dusk Six Bells… Midnight Hour.”
“I heard it’s ordained that no other sounds are permitted.”

Akira: “That’s right.”
“As ordained—strictly—no other sounds may be made, and we must ring it three times each day and night without fail.”

“What is that?”

Akira: “There is a legend here.”
“Long ago when humans warred against water and this village neared ruin—Great Monk Taichō of Echizen sealed the dragon god within Yashagaike Pond through ascetic power.”
“The dragon god declared: ‘To rescue drowning folk and sinking lands—though my freedom be stripped—this necessity I cannot refuse.’”
“‘In exchange—forge a bell! Hang it at the mountain’s base! Ring it thrice daily and nightly—startling me awake—that covenant ever remembered… My essence craves freedom.’”
“‘Autonomy I covet.’”
“‘Unfettered will I seek.’”
“‘Oft forgetting oaths—I’d swell these cramped pond waters across Hokuriku’s seven provinces.’”
“‘For liberty’s sake—mortals’ lives and beasts’ I count as naught!’”
“‘Yet covenant I’ll keep—oath never break—but let none forget that pact!’”
“‘Lest they forget—never neglect that bell! Yamazawa—for this purpose was it cast!’”
“‘Thus—forget but once—at once! Torrents! Thunder! Tempests! From Yashagaike surges tsunami—villages drowned beneath waves—while I course through heaven and earth at whim… So this land’s tale tells… Hence Dawn Six Bells—Dusk Six Bells—Midnight Hour we strike…’”

Yamazawa (leaning forward): "Fascinating."

Akira: "No—this isn’t merely fascinating. It’s a matter of grave importance."

“It is indeed an important matter.”

“By the way—who do you think the man who rings the bell—the bell ringer—is?”

“You?”

“It’s me.
In other words, Hagiwara Akira is that bell ringer.”

“How curious.”

“There is a hut there…”

Yamazawa: “Hmm.”

Akira: “In the hut where the bell ringer lives—until I came two summers ago to take over—there was a seventy-nine-year-old man named Yatahachi who, for fifty years, had never missed a single day of striking this bell three times each day and night.”

“Yamazawa, flowers lure human eyes; water tugs at human hearts. You said you came to see Yashagaike Pond too. When I likewise came to this village to see the pond, the Dusk Six Bells rang. While hearing Old Man Yatahachi explain about the bell, I made a promise to have him guide me to the pond at dawn—and was granted lodging in his hut.”

That night, after ringing the Midnight Hour bell and descending the high steps of the bell tower, the old man collapsed on this veranda—a sudden illness.
While enduring the agony of dying, he writhed, saying he couldn’t die.
“In this world—the entire village’s faith in the bell vanished long ago… Once the old man dies, there will be no one left to ring the bell.
“If they forget even once—without a moment’s delay—the fields and paddies, the dry land becomes water, becomes marshes, becomes abysses.
“Tens of thousands—thousands—of lives… Tormented by that thought, he writhed, unable to die even as he wished to die.—Though his voice was thinner than a cicada’s whisper, this old man—a mere skeleton clinging to skin—who had devoted fifty years of dawns and dusks to guarding the bell tower with such fervent faith, spoke on… His words resounded in my ears as though the bell itself were tolling.—And then, pitying his deathbed anguish, I said clearly to reassure him: ‘Don’t worry, old man—I’ll ring the bell for you.’ At that, he grinned with unparalleled joy, pressed his hands together in prayer… and died.”
“I still haven’t forgotten that face from that moment.”

But I never imagined I would end up ringing the bell there for the rest of my life.
As for the Midnight Hour, the old man had taken care of it; I had only thought of substituting to ring the Dawn Six Bells occasionally.
But with the old man dead—and even if I tried calling the villagers—the neighboring houses were this far away.
Under the covenant requiring three tollings, beyond those times—even in fire or flood—the bell must not be struck.

Yamazawa: “How does this ‘must not ring’ come about?”

Akira: “The bell stands high here—its shadow is said to pierce deep into Yashagaike Pond’s azure depths… When struck with the clapper, they say even winter winds cannot stir that water—yet ripples form, whispering faintly.
Since we ring it originally to startle the dragon god, disturbing it beyond those three times would amount to discourtesy…”

Yamazawa: “That is logical—hmm.”

Akira: “I couldn’t even ring the bell… Then I rushed around this unfamiliar village to gather people—well, Yatahachi’s affairs were settled, but no one agreed to ring the bell. First of all, when I earnestly explained that such-and-such was the case and solemnly recounted the legend I’d heard from the old man as if it were our ancestors’ dying wish, the villagers roared with laughter. …The young ones can’t be blamed. The old folks act true to their nature—even the temple priest remains unconcerned—saying if we’re telling old tales, we’d be better off fetching Momotarō’s treasure. It grated on my nerves—‘Do as you please!’ I said then (pointing to the threshold), put on my straw sandals, and strode briskly out of this valley to return home. When I was leaving, standing forlornly under the enoki tree at the edge of the earthen bridge on the outskirts of Kashima Village to see me off was (lowering his tone) that woman.”

Even the Dawn Six Bells that day—amidst the pointing and laughter of schoolchildren among others—I rang them myself. Given this situation, from today onward, the Dusk Six Bells would likely never ring!... If by some chance—whether landslide, mountain tsunami, or even a great storm—the village were destroyed... If I confessed everything... I wouldn’t care about the rest... This girl’s life would surely be lost—Wait—For two or three days, I’d guard the bell tower myself. Before I knew it—four or five days more, then half a month, then a month passing by—how swiftly time flew. Nearly three years had passed. Until I met you, I’d even forgotten that.... Moreover—to forget further—having aged and withdrawn from the world, I myself had resigned as well.... It wasn’t just that… To distract even a little from the eyes passing by—wild geese and swallows coming and going under eaves and across sky—I wore a white wig during daylight.

Yamazawa silently gazes at his face.
Akira (speech faltering): “Don’t look at me like that—I’m embarrassed.”

Yamazawa (after a thoughtful pause): "So... it was for Ms. Yuri's sake that you decided to hide here, is that what you're saying?"

Akira: "...I'm even more embarrassed now."

Yamazawa: "There's no need to feel ashamed. But how about it—can't you take your wife and return to Tokyo?"

Akira: "There's no need to speak of three provinces.
"I wouldn't even call it Echizen Province alone.
"If we two were to abandon them and leave, what would become of the lives in this village, this hamlet, and those dwelling at the foothills?"

Yamazawa: “Hagiwara—” (calling out as he approaches) “Do you truly believe that?”

Akira: “I believe—I’ve come to believe.
As for Hagiwara Akira—who can say? But the second Yatahachi, bell keeper of Kotohiki Valley in Kashima Village at the foot of Mount Mikuni in Echizen Province and husband of Yuri—he truly believes.”

Yamazawa (placing his hands firmly on his knees in his Western-style cross-legged posture): “I’ve nothing to say.
Believe it so.
Proceed resolutely.
When one beholds Madam’s beauty that transcends mortal bounds, one might say heaven fashioned Ms. Yuri for this village’s sake and installed the bell keeper here.
You two are the twin deities of this village.
And Ms. Yuri in particular—she is a goddess.”

Yuri (With a lamp in hand, her black hair gleaming, she steps forward): "What am I to do?"

Yamazawa: “Oh, this is…”

Yuri: “Honored guest, regarding your earlier words…”

Yamazawa: “Well—our first meeting… Ha ha ha ha—Madam.”

Yuri: "Oh my..." (blushing).

Akira: "Now, this isn't... Never mind—give your proper greetings. He's like a brother to me."

Yuri silently placed her hands together in a bow.

Yamazawa: “Yes, yes.”
“Our greetings have already been exchanged.”
“You didn’t sneeze now, did you?”

Akira: “If I carelessly sneeze or something, mosquitoes will come flying out.”

Yuri: “Oh now, that’s quite enough of your teasing.”

Akira: “You’re wearing so much white powder.”

Yuri: “You always say such things.”
(She glares at him gently and hides her face.)

Yamazawa: “In any case, my dear… hahahaha—I’ve been rambling on about whatever comes to mind—but what of your family back home? Your parents? Siblings?”

Akira: Yamazawa, she’s an orphan with nothing.
"She was the only daughter of the Hachiman Shrine’s priest, and that priestly father of hers has also passed away."
"There’s an uncle who’s now serving as the substitute priest."
"But before all this—that uncle was a man of unsavory character."

Yamazawa: That is... most unfortunate.

Akira: “It was a great ordeal he put this niece through.”

Yuri: “Truly, this body of mine is so unreliable.
I know nothing and am quite unworthy, but honored guest, I beg you to take pity on me.”
(She spoke earnestly to Yamazawa, raising three fingers.)

Yamazawa (drawn in despite himself, tears welling up): “That shows remarkable virtue.
I could never think of you as a stranger.”

Akira (similarly feeling an inexplicable tightness in his chest)
Akira (wiping away tears): “Now now—your kind words about being family.”
“No need for formalities here—we don’t need any of that.”
“Have a drink with the snipe dish we’ve been discussing.”
“We’ll talk at leisure now.”
“Yamazawa, I want to feed you vegetables—they’re sweet.”

Yamazawa: “Madam, do not rise.”
“Indeed, Hagiwara—as I have resolved, I intend to spend this night going to see Yashagaike Pond.”
“Having heard all sorts of mysterious stories, I’ve grown even more eager to see it.”
“I’ll gladly accept a meal of your homemade cooking, but I must decline the sake. First of all, as you know, I can’t drink a drop.”

“I see. So that’s it—you came to see Yashagaike Pond.”
“You say tomorrow would be better, but the road’s over a *ri* long—and the climb’s steep.”
“In this heat, night would be better.”
“But since you can’t stay four or five days—how about tomorrow evening instead?”

“No—I have school.”
“After all, I’m no longer a student who can take time off as he pleases.”
“To begin with, I’ve indulged too much in leisure and must now economize.”

“That’s a problem. What about school? … Earlier, you mentioned that your final destination was Kyoto, didn’t you?”

Yamazawa: “Mmm, since last year.”
“…The heartlessness of court service.”
“In any case, I must make haste.”

Akira: “Understood. Then I’ll accompany you as your guide.”

Yamazawa: “You too.”

“...Let’s leave immediately.”

Yamazawa: “If that’s the case, it won’t sit well with Madam.”

Akira: “What’s all the fuss?”

Yuri: “No…” (she faltered) “You said immediately… The preparations…”

Akira: “We’ll get bamboo-leaf wraps from Tsuchibashi’s stew shop—that’s quicker.
Herring simmered in broth, grilled tofu—that’ll do, Yamazawa.”

“Very well.”

“Once matters are settled, swift action is best. Genzaemon may wear zōri, but Saimeiji-dono needs waraji—waraji!”

“Ah, fascinating,” said Yamazawa. “Madam, I shall stop by on my return trip someday. I adore miso soup. Please let me have it with some side dishes before I depart.” He then turned to Akira. “By the way—when might our return be?…”

Akira: “Come on—the night’s short. It might be dawn soon.”

Yamazawa: “Dawn… would be fine, but—” *(putting on his waraji)* “Wait! If we rashly rush out together, what of tonight’s midnight bell?”

Akira: “Yuri has it in hand. I’m different from the previous Yatahachi—no sage, just flesh and blood. I fall ill sometimes; Yuri substitutes for me then.”

Yamazawa: “Then we shall listen near the pond.—Madam—” *(turning to Yuri)* “Stay strong.”

Yuri: “Yes—please don’t forget our home.” *(in a tearful voice)* “I’ll strive with all my might.”

“...Hey—bring out that gourd from Yatahachi’s legacy, the family treasure, and get sake.”
“Then hand me the sickle. Even if there’s a path through that seldom-trodden place, we’ll need to cut through bamboo grass.”
“...Hurry.”

“Yes, yes.”

Yamazawa: "Ah, wickedly sharp."
*(inspects the sickle.)*

Akira: "In moonlight..." *(raises it skyward)* "Still gleams."
"I did learn to whet a sickle.—This way, come."

(He takes the lead.)

Yuri: “Please take care.”
(In a choked voice, as she saw them off—a darling doll tucked in her sleeve.)

Akira: “What’s this thing?” (He glanced back.)

Yuri: “Taro’s just seeing you off for a moment.”
(Dabbing her sleeve) “Please come back quickly too, dear. The little one is lonely.”
(While saying this, she gazed at Yamazawa’s face, pointed toward the small house, then looked down and teared up.)

Yamazawa: (raising his hand protectively, tearing up again) “You speak true—but fear not. My worry is this: that even in dreams—[to Yuri] you—[turning to Akira] meeting me might stir homesickness, and you might not return as you are now.”

Yuri (awkwardly turned her back abruptly.)

“Ah, so that’s why earlier… You fool—still playing with dolls,” Akira scoffed.

“Must you really exchange kisses when we’re about to depart?” Yamazawa interjected.

“I’m no city gentleman—just plain Yatahachi the Bell Ringer,” Akira retorted, his rustic dialect thickening.

The two men strode off together.

Yuri: *(after a long pause)* I can hardly believe it... but tell me, darling—he *will* come back safely, won't he?
"Closing those big eyes and nodding—oh, how precious."
(rubbing cheeks) "Darling, have some milk."
"Mama doesn't want to eat supper all alone."
"Let's finish tidying up and mind the house."
Seeing she was alone—and since the villagers would make trouble—she deemed the moonlight sufficient, putting out the lamp and closing the door.
——

She slid the shutters firmly against the frame.
When she finished closing them, the lock clicked firmly into place.
Before long, the storeroom lamp suddenly went out.

~ The array of emerging monsters: Hitotsume-kozō, Mikoshi-nyūdō, Kawatarō, otter spirits, Umibōzu, Osakabe in the castle keep; a bakeneko with a red hand towel, Kuzunoha in the bamboo fields, Yakanhī; an elder tanuki’s belly drum—thump-thump, thump-thump, hey! pom-poko-pom—a flute summoning rain; a sake-buying imp; an ohaguro-stained woman’s cackling laugh; village men transformed into noppera-bō.

And so the song——

Yojū, having turned his bamboo hat upside down, looked at a single carp with a delighted face, grinned slyly, and left.

Yojū: “I’ve done a grand thing!”
“Heard snow means good harvests—drought’s when fish bite, I reckon.”
“Big ponds n’ small both dried up—scooped this’un from puddles where they were splashin’.”
...(Carp leaps) “Whoa!”
“Silver scales.”
“Thumpin’ heavy.”
“Must be four kan at least.”
“Bigger’n the Honorable Village Head’s waterfall-climber over his hearth!”
“Rather’n eatin’ it myself, I’ll sell it to the Bearded Councilman.”
“There ya go, carp.”
“Sell yerself proper to that Bearded One.”
“Be worth somethin’, worth somethin’.”
...(Carp leaps) “Hah! Them scales glitter—”
“Gold-like glitter... scales glitter... right here—(looks at hut) Bell Ringer forged ’em! Back when the priest’s girl lived shrine-side, folks said she had eight scales on her serpent back…… Then nights came—peepers’d spy her bed—always some white snake twistin’ round! Even saw one rollin’ fire-eyes n’ spittin’, they did……”

“Looks like nothin’s happened to the Bell Ringer.”
“He’s still alive and kickin’, and they ain’t even tried to kill ’im.”
“Lookee here! Even though I caught ya without even tryin’, these silver scales glintin’ in the moonlight—if I’d thought you were some monster or serpent form and kept my hands off, I’d’ve never got my hands on good sake, they say.—Miss’s the proof of that!”
“Well then, it’s pitch black out now.”
“They ain’t gonna finish me off—hold on.”
(He stealthily approached and peered through the gap in the hut’s door.)

Kani Gorō.

A ruddy face, wild red hair like tangled mugwort, and the crimson robes of a mountain ascetic’s attire.
With a cigarette rolled in burdock leaves held sideways in a sharp grip, puffing out smoke in rapid bursts, he stretched both arms overhead, crouched into pincer-like posture, and sidled sideways with crunching steps to clamp down on Yojū’s peeping shin with a decisive pinch.

Yojū: “Oww!”
(With a yelp) “Whoa!” As he recoiled, he hurled the bamboo hat—carp still inside—into the evening glory’s shadow. “Yikes! The marsh’s giant crab!”
“Murderer!”

With a panicked leap, he fled.—Kani Gorō scuttled sideways in pursuit.

Koishichi.
Carp spirit.
From the shade of the evening glory, he manifested smoothly.
A black-and-white scaled underrobe, a sash of the same scale pattern, and fin-like fluttering tabi.
While covering his face with the aforementioned bamboo hat, he came and abruptly cast it down.
His face was pale; around his mouth clung a thick black beard.
The crab, seeing this, turned back.

Koishichi: (opening his mouth wide and letting out a sudden sigh) Ah... So humans have finally realized the desperation of this drought.
"It seems someone has been cut off from water... Oh, Great Crab! Your assistance just now was most welcome. I am grateful."

“It’s give and take—no need for thanks. Still, though—even a waterfall-climber like you ended up dumped on a hat stand, spoutin’, ‘What’s this?’”

Koishichi: “Took a shortcut to the village—thought I could muscle through the current.”
“My fin snagged on a rock, right where my scales couldn’t twist free—then they chomped clean through.”

Kani Gorō: “This one here?”
(He clamped the fallen hat between his pincers and squeezed.)

Koishichi: “Haven’t had such grief since Oniwakamaru’s day!”
“Damn you, farmer!”
(He stomped on the hat.)

Hat: “Wasn’t me! Wasn’t me!”
(Only its voice cried out from the shadows.)

“Well… I suppose it’s not your doing either.”
“I’ll help you out—now scram!”
“Hey! When the rice ripens, turn yourself into a scarecrow!”

(He released it.)
At that moment, the bamboo hat fluttered noisily and fled.

“Ha ha ha ha! Fly it does, fly it does—diving into the pumpkin field!”

Kani Gorō: “Look at that human head go flying! Good riddance, good riddance.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
(laughing) “Koishichi, where to now?”

Koishichi: “Hmm... I’ve business in the village.”
“Having come down the waterfall.”
“What’s this? Lately with this drought—‘Give us rain!’ ‘Bring us water!’—the farmers swarm like flies to Her Highness’s residence at Demon Pond’s edge.”
“That much I could stomach.”
“But now they bring iron nails, fire tongs, rusty swords—even broken pot shards—as if under some cursed prohibition!”
“Worse still—in their deranged zeal for offerings—they present dog heads and cat skulls! Eyes bulging, whiskers twitching, tongues lolling!”
“Were they cucumbers, the kappa of Hinogawa River might bite them—but this? Disgusting! Utterly disgusting! The maidservants struggle to clean this filth—a wretched nuisance!”

By the way, Her Highness’s nursemaid—Mannen Uba of Yuo Pass—had conveyed a private message to someone: “If rain does not fall, it shall not fall until it does. Should you scatter filth hereafter, we shall not overlook it.” She had gone down to the village to proclaim this.
All to trouble this fin—you troublesome humans.

“Is that all? Much obliged, much obliged.” Kani Gorō scuttled sideways, his claws clicking against stone. “But tell me—does Her Highness of the Great Pond show any inclination to send rain soon?”

Koishichi’s gills flared as he sighed. “Who can say? This drought means nothing to Her Highness.” His scaled fingers brushed algae from his robe. “You know this as well as I—she’s utterly consumed by longing for her betrothed, the young master of Senjakugaike Pond on Mount Hakusan’s Ken-ga-mine.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “What time has she for mortal droughts when love devours her every thought?”

Kani Gorō: Vast supernatural powers—I, for one, will consider it!
“Your Highness need not torment Herself so—why not take flight with both sleeves billowing and swiftly make for Ken-ga-mine?”

Koishichi: That’s precisely it—if Her Highness deigns to move her seat, then, in that instant, a dreadful tsunami will arise, and this village—people and horses alike—will sink to the depths…

Kani Gorō: What’s this “what”? First off, my dwelling would expand… Why show restraint if the village turns to mud?
“Urge her! Urge her!”

“Have you forgotten? The bell remains here... So long as those wretches keep remembering this ironclad covenant with humanity—to strike the bell thrice daily without fail—the village shall never perish, bound by the heaven-and-earth oath sworn since our ancestors’ time.”
“Even Her Highness cannot act freely.”
“That’s exactly why they’ve forgotten her anguished heart—her pitiable plight and endearing nature.”

Kani Gorō: “By THE Three Treasures—forgetting HIS oath beneath THE HALL...” etc.

“I ask for your company—Koishichi.”

“Hmm, I’ve got that matter sorted,” said Koishichi. “But in return… the road’s lonely. Let’s go together to the village.”

Kani Gorō: “On the return trip, we’ll keep each other company to the pond.”

Koishichi: “Let’s sing our way along the moonlit ridge path.”

Kani Gorō: “What shall we sing?”

Koishichi: “Let’s sing ‘Turn mountains into rivers!’”

Kani Gorō: “Amusing.”

In perfect unison with their song’s rhythm, Koishichi swayed his sleeves languidly while Kani Gorō puffed intermittent smoke clouds, singing onward together: “Turn mountains into rivers! Turn mountains into rivers!” Setting out and pausing, they gazed at the path ahead.

Koishichi: “Wait! Something unfamiliar creeps along the rice field ridges.”

“Hah! Hah! That’s suspicious,” said Kani Gorō. “Let’s duck into the shadows and see what’s up.”

The two concealed themselves.

YURI (holding a doll, exits through the door with coquettish grace): How long this night stretches...how long... What summer dawn could break so easily?
"You can't sleep either, little one?—Dear Moon—how old might you be? Thirteen?... Seven?—Did you hear someone singing earlier? 'Let mountains become rivers'—Ah...these days our villagers might truly have turned mountains into rivers themselves... How pitiful... Well... What clear moonlight—you could count every blade on yonder peaks."
"Mr. Akira—since even our guest's shadow might show itself near those pines—let us ascend to bell tower."
"...If our sleeves should chance brush something and ring out—that would prove ill-omened... Let us instead venture toward open paddy fields."
(Circled around to back of hut and entered.)

Namazuiri.

From the hanamichi emerged a figure in a deep mouse-gray sheer hood, their entire face shrouded in black.
Two white whiskers split left and right from beneath the nose, hanging long enough to reach the hem.
Wearing ink-black priestly robes and mouse-gray tabi socks shaped like fins,
leaning on a single reed cane and holding in one hand a beautiful lacquered writing box tied with a crimson cord, he emerged unsteadily.

Namazuiri: “I have come from afar.”
“Since this drought defies all reason, the journey proved more trying than I had imagined.”
(Gazing into the distance) “Ah, undeniable—moisture gathers in the skies above the peaks.”
“How joyous… Yashagaike lies near that.”
(He approaches.)

The Carp and Crab appeared ahead.

Koishichi: “Who’s there?”
“What are you that has come here?”

Kani Gorō: “The first checkpoint of the mountain pond—the Yabusawa guardian lies in wait. State your name to pass!”

Namazuiri (winding his cane into his sleeve and scrutinizing them): “Ah, you are no ordinary beings… This one comes as a messenger from Hokurikudō’s peerless sacred peak—the Prince of Hakusan’s Ken-ga-mine Senjagaike—to Her Highness the Princess of Mikuniga-take Yashagaike in this land.”

Koishichi: “Oh! So you’re the Black Monk I’ve heard tales of.”

Kani Gorō: “Is Namazuiri a holy man?”

Namazuiri: “These must all be Her Highness’s kin. Are you the honorable retainers of Yashagaike? What fortune to meet here—I shall entreat you for guidance.”

Kani Gorō: “Honorable messenger, you’ve had quite the journey.”

Koishichi: “Though I have pressing business that calls me to the village, as the young lord’s envoy, I shall accompany you without fail. Her Highness’s delighted face appears before my eyes. We too bring honor under your protection. Come now, Reverend.”

Kani Gorō: “Come now, Reverend.”

Namazuiri (suddenly stiffened, unable to proceed.) A pause.
First, a pause...

Koishichi: “Reverend, if you’re weary, let me take your hand.”

Kani Gorō: “How about we push your back?”

Namazuiri: “No, no—I am not weary.”
“Though my tail fin sways idly, here I’ve suddenly found myself with a most worrisome matter.”

Koishichi: “What concern?”
“Reverend.”

Namazuiri: Having made my way this far—just when I thought we’d reach the pond—suddenly this writing box grew heavy upon me.
“That’s the thing.”

Koishichi: They call it love’s burden.
“Since it’s a letter steeped in heartfelt sentiments, as we approach the pond, have your mutual affections resonated, naturally infusing themselves into the writing box?”

Kani Gorō: “Again? Her Highness bestows a gift from her treasury... But does that millstone’s weight truly register—overflowing with gold, silver, rice, and millet?”

Namazuiri (despondently): “No—it seems even the insects foresaw where I’d be exposed. The stone mortar sent as reward would suffice—but I dread it might instead read: ‘Slice this monk into rounds! Simmer him in turtle stew to rouse Her Highness from her nap!’”
“Ah! How dreadful!”
(He trembles violently, his reed cane shaking in tandem.)

Koishichi: “Why would you imagine such a far-fetched thing? Reverend…”

Namazuiri: “No no—this sudden heaviness of the writing box made me recall my own transgressions. Though it shames me to say it, I’ll come clean.” (Hunching his neck and stroking his head) “Lately… there was a middle-aged mountain woman who came riding a bear to Ken-ga-mine Senjagaike Manor—to wash her black hair.”

“Entranced by her pale nakedness, I—shameless wretch—found myself slyly sliding my fins about her. But when this was noticed, our young lord flew into an extraordinary rage.”

“And now during this messenger duty—while confined in mud during my punishment—I carelessly ventured out, overjoyed by the summons… only to find the undersides of my fins already caked with grime.” (He trembles again.)

Kani Gorō: “Ha! Ha! Ha!” (laughing) “Reverend, what an eager beaver you are.”
“I should take notes.”

Namazuiri: “Are you mocking me? How pathetic.”
“Though it may not cost my life, no doubt the young lord’s decree orders me to cast off my fins and tail and pluck out my whiskers.”
“This is my end… What shall I do?”
(He wept desolately.)

Koishichi and Kani Gorō saw this, whispered, and nodded.

Koishichi: “Now Reverend, this cannot be dismissed as baseless.
“Long ago, a horse guard traveling along the Ōmi Highway was entrusted by an unknown woman on a bridge to deliver a letter to another woman beneath a milestone pine ten ri ahead.
“Growing suspicious along the way, he secretly broke the seal—only to find it written: *‘To my dear sister: I hereby present this horse guard’s intestines.’* Had he delivered it unaware, his belly would have been split open.”

Namazuiri: “Haah!” (He fell with a thud, landing flat on his rear.)

Kani Gorō: “How pathetic.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Koishichi: “Fortunately, Gorō has scissors... Let us secretly cut the seal and take a look.”

Kani Gorō: “Namazuiri! Well now... Such pitiful ramblings you’ve exposed—all because you wished to rely on that?”
Namazuiri: “……How delightful—perhaps they’ll show you mercy.”

Kani Gorō: Quite right, quite right.

Koishichi: "Moreover..." (lowering his voice) "Since it's a letter steeped in longing and intimacy, well now—we too would wish to see it."

Namazuiri (trembling, holds up the writing box reverently and unties the cord.)

The carp and crab pressed close.
They released the lid and looked in unison.

Namazuiri!

Koishichi: “Wh—what?!”

Kani Gorō: "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

Namazuiri: "The writing box contains nothing but water!"

As he said this, clear water suddenly flowed forth and overflowed.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! The Princess—!”

Startled, they flung themselves prone together with Namazuiri in a swimming posture.
The crab knelt and braced himself on his hands.

[At the Upper Ravine]

Shirayukihime of Yashagaike.
Her snow-layered gauze overrobe, dyed with crimson flames upon a pale blue ground; black lacquer with silver-painted scale patterns for an obi, no under-sash, her trailing skirt flowing smoothly, black hair spilling past her height.
She wore silver boots and held an iron staff radiant as jade at her waist.
She swiftly let the jade-like letter she had spread in both hands fall and caught it at the hem of her robe.

To the right stood Mannen Uba of Yuo Pass. Needle-like white hair; a decayed-leaf-colored kimono; a red apron.

To the left stood a lady-in-waiting—Okuyama Tsubaki of Kinome Pass’s deep mountains—wearing a light-green crested kimono, her hair in an elaborate coiffure adorned with a scarlet maiden camellia flower. Supporting both sides with her hands, she attended.

The harvest moon rose.

“Reading this letter... The moonlight is vexingly dim.”

“Your Highness, you may view it by the light of your own form.”

Shirayukihime (pulling up her under-robe, shielding the flame at her sleeve cuff, finally finishes reading and falls into a trance.)

Tsubaki: “Your Highness.”

Mannen Uba: “Your Highness—”

Shirayukihime: “I have heard a message—dear, gentle, joyful, intimate.”
“……Nurse, I shall go.”

Mannen Uba: “Your Highness merely took a stroll to the foothills.”

Tsubaki: “Will Your Highness be returning now?”

Shirayukihime: “Where to?”
(…she retorted.)

Mannen Uba: To your residence, Your Highness.

Shirayukihime: "What?"
Mannen Uba: "To Yashagaike, it would be, Your Highness."
Shirayukihime: "What are you saying... My destination is Mt. Senjaku."
Everyone: "You say... to Mt. Senjaku?"
Shirayukihime: "You needn't hear such grave matters—Senjakugaike is but a trifle—I go to where this letter awaits."
(She rolled it up, tucked it into her bosom, and cradled it.)

Mannen Uba (straightening up): "Again... Your Highness persists in willfulness."
"Your Highness, there is a bell here."

Shirayukihime: "Hmph," raising the corners of her eyes and gazing sharply at the bell tower.

Mannen Uba: "You have not forgotten, have you?"
"If Your Highness were to relocate your seat through mountains and rivers, tens of thousands—nay, thousands upon thousands—of living creatures' lives would have to be extinguished."
"The same would apply even to His Lordship of Senjakugaike at Mt. Senjaku—were he brought here, Shiraya Valley would become a lake. Thus, even from yonder, the act of crossing would be impossible."
"—Starting with this old one, our hearts ache."
"……Though it is dear to us, it cannot be helped."

“Spouting such logic... Nurse, are you siding with the humans?”

“Heh heh,” Mannen Uba mocked. “Tailless monkeys—who’d bother shielding them? Whether loathed, wretched, or insufferable—nay, even sworn foes—the pact stays unchanged. Shattering the vow is inconceivable.”

“Who made this oath?”

“Across generations of ancestors—down to your own parents in recent times—was it not foremost to Your Highness that they left their dying injunction?”

“I am aware.”
(With a thud, she recoiled.)

“Your Highness—even those despicable humans have strictly kept their promise, not forgetting the covenant for five hundred, seven hundred years—is this not so? It is precisely because they do not forget the covenant that they have not ceased ringing the bell thrice daily—at Dawn Six Bells, Dusk Six Bells, and the Midnight Hour. As long as this bell rings, they cannot sink the village to the water’s depths.”

Shirayukihime: “Yes, how hateful... If only this bell weren’t here.” She gazed intently at it and smoothly straightened up. “Tell the subjects to come here.”

Tsubaki stood and called to one side. “Her Highness summons you.”

Koishichi rose and addressed the group. “Hey, all of you—quickly!” he called out.

The retainers scrambled to take positions left and right. The assembly held their acquired implements—some wore armor, others bore skulls upon their heads—their forms resembling a veritable night parade of demons.

Torikabuto: Torikabuto Nyūdō.

Sabae: Sabae no Tarō.

Sabanami: Sabanami no Jirō.

These two declared in unison, “Brothers.”

Tsuka: The Bone-Gathering Demon of Thirteen Mounds.

Kani Gorō: The Barrier Keeper of Yabusawa has already been here since earlier.

Tsubaki and the rest—a multitude of road deities, kodama spirits, mountain demons, and water sprites.

Shadow figures—countless entities of identical form existed.
They had neither eyes nor noses, their heads entirely shrouded in gray cloth.

The shadow figures too have joined in.

As they declare their names, will-o’-the-wisps flicker near and far.
Henceforth, they flicker.

Koishichi: All members of our kind have assembled, Your Highness.

Namazuiri: With all due respect, this humble monk also joins them…

Shirayukihime: Oh, such a long journey—what an arduous task.
“Let’s send our reply soon—that’s why I called everyone here.”

Mannen Uba: Oh—regarding the reply to yonder—have you summoned them all?
“What task would you have us perform?”

Shirayukihime: Nurse, no matter what you think, I will go.
“I must go to Mt. Senjaku.”
"If only that bell were gone, the covenant would mean nothing... Let everyone tear down that bell and smash it to dust!"

Mannen Uba: “Eeeh... If that is your command, they will surely stir into motion—but wait!”
(Her eyes gleaming as she gazes at the Princess) “You still utter such chaotic words… Having summoned our subjects with your decree, should such speech continue, disorder will become true catastrophe.”
“The heavenly gods—how fearsome their hearing!”
“Taking countless human lives—this you must not do.”

Shirayukihime: “What care I for human lives!... In love, even my own life holds no worth.”
“……Nurse, show mercy and let me go.”

Nurse: “Ah, how pitiable… But this cannot be.”
“You have borne this patiently for years untold—I dare not speak of thirty or fifty.”
“This age is the Latter Days of Buddha’s Law and the Sages’ Decline—they’ve forgotten both covenants and promises.”
“Their fragile grasp on faith hangs like a bell suspended by vines gnawed through by birds—the snapping of every chain lies plain before us.”
“You must endure until that hour comes.”

Shirayukihime: “Nothing but endless waiting!”
“Would a heart aflame with longing pause before Hell’s own gates to await dawn’s breaking?”
“Enough! If my subjects refuse, I shall act alone.”
(Her resolve hardens.)

Tsubaki: “Hmm? Your Highness.”

Nurse: “What is this you intend?... If that bell holds no worth to be discarded, our kind need not await Your Highness’s command—no order required.
What—eight thousand kan of bronze? Even with these withered arms of mine, I could pinch it between my fingers and cast it aside! But its weight lies in obligation.”

Shirayukihime: “Obligations and rules are ropes humans fashion to bind themselves—ropes that chastise me and my own being!... To this body they call demon, beast, yaksha, fiend, and venomous serpent—neither sleeve hems nor robe hems bar love’s path! Not one wisp of cloud obstructs it!... Ancestors remain ancestors! Parents remain parents! Promises and covenants—they were mere conveniences you toyed with!
Even humans let promises rot with time—why should I hesitate to break them a breath sooner!
Ah—having embraced my beloved’s footsteps, my heart lies in torment—Nurse, forgive me!”

“Indeed, your mind is in disarray,” said the Nurse.
“Should humans neglect even once—whether Dawn Six Bells, Dusk Six Bells, or even this single Midnight Hour tonight—then at that very moment, not an instant’s delay shall there be.”
“Your Highness, this old one shall carry you on her back and not let even a wisp of cloud touch your shoes.”
“Let them try to die or drown—let the peaks crumble and foothills be buried.”
“To Mt. Senjaku in a single leap.”
“...If you dare break the covenant while ringing that bell, the gods and buddhas will unleash immediate divine retribution—how will you answer for that?!”

Koishichi: “In this province, the Itadori, Kaeri, and Kuzuryū flows converge into the great Hino River.”

Kani Gorō: “In Mino Province lies the renowned Ibi River.”

Nurse: “Her Highness deigns to reign over two rivers.”

Tsubaki: “A million-koku princess.”

Nurse: “Your willfulness…”

All: “It cannot be done.”

Nurse: “Your body…”

All: “It is of great importance.”

Shirayukihime: “Ugh, how noisy you all are.
If you understand duty and honor and wish to live long, then go ahead and do as you please… But I will not abandon love for the sake of life.
Step back, step back!”

The retainers swarmed in chaotic disarray, trying to block and restrain her, but she shook them off and slipped through—only to end up surrounded at the center.

Even though I told you to step back… Eh…

When she wrenched free and drew the iron staff, its silver gleam shimmered in the moonlight—the retainers recoiled with a collective gasp.
The Princess smoothly approached, swiftly ascended the stone steps, clung to a pillar, and resolutely reached for the bell—

Though the gods and buddhas remained unaware—even if I incurred divine punishment—O this body of Shirayukihime! How joyous it was to melt into the morning sunlight, into waters of passion.
Even if my body were crushed to dust, even if I were torn asunder eight ways—so long as I stained my beloved with blood, this burning soul of mine would become but a dim glow of fireflies and fly to Mt. Senjaku.

The iron staff she brandished shone with a dazzling gleam... At that moment, across the distant moonlit night, a song sounded.

＝＝Lulla-lulla-lullaby, rock-a-bye— / Where did the sleep guardian go? / Over the mountain to the village below. / What souvenir did they bring from there? / A spinning drum and a reed flute fair.＝＝

Shirayukihime listened intently, captivated, her flame-patterned sleeves billowing. Eventually calling down the stone steps: “Nurse! Nurse! What is that voice?…”

“It is Yuri of the shrine,” replied the Nurse.

“Oh, the beautiful Miss Yuri…” Shirayukihime mused aloud. “I wonder what she’s doing.”

Nurse: “While lover Akira is away，she holds a doll and sings a lullaby with tender care.”

“When parted from one’s beloved, does singing a song truly ease the pain?”

Nurse: It is exactly as you say.

All: “Your Highness, won’t you deign to amuse yourself?”

Shirayukihime: “Overwhelmed, I forgot... Should I sink this village, that beautiful life would cease to be.”
“Though ringing the bell would make me their foe...” (descending the stone steps quietly) “How I envy—yet admire—this household’s pair.”
“Nurse, keep silent and let us emulate them.”

Nurse (tears streaming down her face): “This brings me deepest joy.”

Shirayukihime (to Tsubaki): “Will you sing too?”

Tsubaki: Yes, I know many.

Koishichi: Well now, ladies-in-waiting—it’s all well and good that you know many songs, but lately you’ve been singing things like _“Hey carp of the pond, scarlet carp—hurry out and eat your wheat gluten!”_ in such a mocking tone. Refrain from such discourteous ditties—you’ll offend Her Highness’s sensibilities!

Tsubaki: "Well... You're the selfish one."

All (burst into laughter)—

Shirayukihime, holding a doll: “I too shall sing… The Messenger of Senjakugaike.”

Namazuiri panted heavily.

Shirayukihime: “I shall send my reply… Together—Tsubaki, take charge of the missive box.—You retainers have served well.”

The retainers bowed. As they listened to the song—“Spinning drums and reed pipes, tumbler dolls and pinwheels”—they divided left and right, gradually filing inward.
The will-o’-the-wisps vanished completely.

Only moonlight.
In the distance, dogs bark; nearby, a night heron cries.

Yuri held her breath, the hem of her kimono fluttering as she fled back, rushed into a small house, and hid.
From behind came Village Chief Hatagami Kadenji; Gondō Kanpachi, a village council member; Saita Hatsuo, the elementary school teacher; and other villagers giving chase.
From another direction emerged Kashima Takazane, acting as substitute priest; Korikishi the wrestler; Kogarasu Burosu; and about five villagers before and behind them—dressed in court caps, white robes, miscellaneous styles, and servant attire—leading a jet-black bull.
Korikishi took hold of the bull’s reins.

Villager 1: “She’s inside! Inside!”

“It’s pitch-black in here!”

“Even if she snuffed out the lamp—there’s still summer insects.”

Gondō Kanpachi: “Stormed in and dragged her out!”

Four or five villagers jumped in haphazardly.
From within came voices shouting, “Hey! Hey!”
They removed the storm shutters haphazardly.

Yuri stood firm at the center—supporting both sides,

Yuri: “What do you think you’re doing, forcing your way into someone’s house?”

Gondō: “What’s this ‘someone’s house’ or ‘my house’ nonsense?”

Kashima District’s Six Villages.

“This is a situation where we’d turn to scorched earth—where the plains would char,” said Hatsuo.

Kashima Takazane (emerging fully): “This is unsightly, Miss Yuri. What are you making a fuss about? As I told you on the way just now. The white arrow has been loosed upon you—there’s no refusing. It’s a water shortage across six villages. If it were fifty thousand koku of rice—for eight thousand people—you must become the rain prayer’s sacrificial offering! You should have known since childhood—when faced with a drought of direst straits, they take the village’s foremost beauty and strip her naked…”

Yuri: “Y-yes.”
(She trembled.)

Kashima Takazane placed no saddle on the black bull’s back, binding it with rough rope.
“Well now—if you resolve yourself solemnly to ride along, there would be no need to bind you.”
“…That is to say—parting through the grasses and leading up to the mountainside—to offer this sacrifice to Yashagaike’s dragon deity.”
“But we won’t take your life.”
“Instead—leaving you, a beautiful woman in your nakedness, upon its back—they will slaughter the bull by the pond’s edge and offer it up with its horned head and tail attached.”
“If they take the meat and the entire village drinks cold sake while partaking of it—the sky will instantly pour down ink-black rain—three days of it drenching the land.”
“The rice fields and dry fields will be revived—so they say.”
“Since ancient times—there has never been a time when it hasn’t worked.”
“Miss Yuri—that’s all there is to it.”
“Endure this—and perform your duty before His Excellency the Village Mayor.”
“Come now—let us stand. Let us stand.”

“Uncle—I won’t say a word—please—just—wait until Mr. Akira—until Master returns—I beg you.”
“If… everyone… please show mercy.”
“……I clasped my hands in prayer.”
“S-such a thing… to me—I—”

Gondō: “What’s this now?”

Hatsuo: “You—Ms. Yuri—what is this?”

Yuri: “Uncle… I implore you… until Mr. Akira returns.”

Kashima Takazane: “Master again, is it?”
“Akira this, Akira that—what a hopeless fool!”
“Now then—the tide’s ebb and flow, the moon’s phases… We cannot let tonight’s midnight hour pass.”
“Up now—up with you.”

“If you won’t obey, we’ll truss you up!”

Kadenji: “It’s for the village and district—there’s no choice.”
“Well now—a pitiful thing indeed.”

Gondō Kanpachi: “Reverend—isn’t this improper?”

Kashima Takazane: “You may remove her.”

Gondō Kanpachi: “Come! Seize it!”

The villagers grabbed her.
Yuri stumbled away in panic.

Furosu-ke: “This ain’t gettin’ us nowhere.”
“Leave it to me.”

They shoved through the crowd and lifted her effortlessly.
The attendants laid her face-up on the bull’s back.

Yuri: “Aah—!”
(She twisted violently.)

They wrapped it around her torso, coiling the rope tightly.
Yuri twisted her back and bowed her face.
Black hair disheveled swiftly fell long across the bull's hooves.

“Mr. Takazane—is she allowed to keep wearing the kimono?”

“Ah—in due time, we shall proceed to the shrine forest and attend to the formal preparations as per the ritual,” said Kashima Takazane. “At the shrine office, His Excellency the Diet member—who has recently become a major landowner in these parts—alongside esteemed individuals and all the villagers who had graciously concerned themselves with the matter now await to observe the rain prayer proceedings.”

“That’s how it stands then,” replied Kadenji.

“Everyone, hurry,” said Hatsuo.

“You all must strive harder now—hahahaha!” Gondō Kanpachi jeered.

The whole group began moving in a clamorous rush.

Akira—(rushes forward, stands blocking the path ahead—no sooner does he glare fiercely than he shoves the attendants aside left and right, fixes a piercing glare, seizes the bull’s nose ring and turns it, yanks the lead rope taut—stomping up to the front of his house). Drawing the sickle at his waist in one motion, without a word, he swiftly severs Yuri’s binding ropes.

YURI: (Upon seeing him) “Oh, Mr. Akira!” (Stumbling down, she hid behind Akira and clung to his obi) “Master, you’ve come at just the right time! You… Why—how—you’ve returned so quickly!”

AKIRA: (Shielding Yuri behind him, gripping the sickle backward while glaring at the crowd in a composed voice) “Ah—to Yashagaike… On the mountain path, about a third of the way up—dimly behind the peaks, near where I thought the distant pond lay—I heard a lullaby soothing a child… The song’s voice under this moon strung pearl-like dewdrops—the mugwort wove patterns too—and it all seemed to gleam blue to my eyes… My companion was deeply moved—Yamazawa has a three-year-old child… Homesickness welled up until one couldn’t bear it… As for wandering through unknown lands under these moonlit mountain paths—let us set that journey for the coming year… A gust blew,” he said, “and my body grew cold.”

“I too feel this constant foreboding.”

“I turned back immediately and came home.”

(Having calmly finished speaking to Yuri, he stood up abruptly, turned the gourd upside down, gazed at the moon, and gulped it down.)

Yuri stretched up, took the small sedge hat whose cord Akira had pressed down around his neck, and pulled the gourd.
Akira received the eggplant and placed it on the ledge.
Immediately he tried to take the sickle.
Akira shook his hand but would not release it; Yuri clung firmly to that hand of his gripping the sickle.

“Go home. What are you all doing here?”
“I must refuse you once more. Though it pains me to say, you must now depart from this village.”

“You mean to drive me from this village?”

“Precisely.—You must know—or if not, we’d have to deem you a fool—this drought…this calamity. A single raindrop now holds the worth of a thousand gold coins—nay, ten thousand! That bell of yours, dismissed as superstition—they say if left silent even once, this village becomes a lake. Become a lake…Splendid! For that is our very wish—indeed, by that logic—hence our decree. From tonight onward, you shall cease ringing that bell. Once we resolve to silence it—well then, you bell-clanging fool—be you Gonsuke or another nameless wretch—begone!”

A few villagers gasped nervously.
(They said.)

Villagers 4–5: “Clapper bastard! Log club!”
(they roared.)

Hatsuo: “Ahem. In this village, you’re not even fit to be fertilizer dregs—nay, I dare say—nay more—a person of utterly no worth.”
“Therefore—yes, therefore—our assembly hereby forbids your bell-ringing and simultaneously pronounces your banishment from this village.”

Villagers 2–3: “That’s right! Absolutely!”

“That’s precisely what I want.”
“Since I was told to do as I pleased—whether protecting the bell or not—I had a promise… I upheld it out of duty.”
“If you order me not to ring it, who would willingly strike this bell?”
“Of course, I’ll leave this place at once.”

Villagers 4–5: “Get out! Get out!”
(In unison.)

Akira: “Yuri, let’s go.—(Seeing her hurriedly preparing) Do you need to get ready? Come barefoot.”
“We’ll bear the thorny path.”
(He pulled her hand.)

Sheltered by his sleeve, Yuri walked before the crowd.—Gakuen, who had been stealthily observing the situation, now quietly revealed himself.

Gondō Kanpachi (in a low, ominous voice): “Hey—hey—wait.”

Akira ignored them and stomped off.

Kanpachi: “Wait—hey!”

Akira: "What?"
(snaps back sharply)

Kanpachi: "You! Leave the villagers behind."

“I won’t take even a speck of dust from here.”

Gondō Kanpachi: “That woman belongs to the village.”
“You cannot take her along.”

Akira: “No—this Yuri is my wife.”

Kadenji: “Be silent.”
“She belongs to the village!”

Akira: “It doesn’t matter where she belongs—Yuri comes along because she wants to… She would stay if she wished.”
“Look at that—she clings to Hagiwara and won’t let go.”
(Smiling) “If we leave her behind, Yuri will die… People must live as their hearts dictate.”
“What would you lot possibly understand?”
“Let’s go.”

Kashima Takazane (pushing through): “Now, now, young ones—recklessness will gain you nothing!”
“...My niece does not belong solely to this village.”
“The lives of eight thousand people across six districts—they must not become sacrifices for rain prayers.”
“In that case... taking that sacrificial woman away would be no different from you stealing eight thousand lives.”
“Unless you leave Yuri behind, not a single step shall you take here.”
“Yuri embodies eight thousand lives.”
“...Well? What say you?”

Gakuen pauses for a moment (calls out and stands between Yuri and Akira). That response would be difficult for Hagiwara to make.
I will say it in his place.
“Indeed, Miss Yuri is the life of the village.”
“Precisely because of this, does not Count Hagiwara—a scion of nobility, albeit a third son—guard this bell for his lifetime solely for the sake of one woman’s beauty? Though I deem it futile to reason with you all, who have already taken this lady captive and subjected her to the shame of rope marks on an ox’s back—when you strip a gentlewoman of her garments and parade her under the moon before a crowd of onlookers, even in condemning evildoers guilty of the Five Deadly Sins like slaying their lord or parents, neither East nor West has ever witnessed such depravity!”

“Perhaps rain may fall and black clouds may billow up, but that is because the Heavenly Way cannot bear to witness the wretched sacrifice upon the black ox’s back and weeps.”
“The moon shall veil its face.”
“By making heaven weep and hiding the light—can you all truly live on like this?”
“Even if the rice thrives, people starve; even if water gushes forth, people thirst.”
“...If you all commit lawless acts, chase the Hagiwara couple, neglect your promise to ring the bell—what will you do if the land becomes a muddy sea?!”
“Though it may be called eight thousand across six villages—those many lives are ones you all will lose by your own hands.”
“If you insist on calling it superstition, then call it so.”
“Even if the couple lives harmoniously yet unfulfilled their whole lives in guarding the bell tower, they do not wound their own hearts, nor does it bring any harm to society.”

“Shut up! You’re insufferable!”
“Don’t you spout such selfish nonsense!”

“Just what are you?”

“Me? I am Hagiwara’s dear friend.”

“What nonsense is this monk spouting from the thickets?”

“I am indeed a monk—of the Honganji sect—and a literary scholar, a professor at Kyoto University.”
“My name is Yamazawa Gakuen.”
“Though it shames me to proclaim myself thus, this land is the wellspring of Shinshū devotion.”
“I dare say there may be those among you who, bound by our shared faith, might show compassion.”
(To the teacher) “Are you not an instructor? A fellow traveler in education.”
“Treat me not as a stranger.”
(To the priest) “You too walk the path of spiritual guidance.”
(To the mayor) “I implore you by your honorable standing.”
“……(To the sumo wrestler) Great wrestlers are chivalrous outlaws—yet I see in them models of masculinity.”
“……With utmost urgency—I beg you to abandon this rain prayer sacrifice.”

Because of this, everyone hesitated for a moment.……Diet Member Anakuma Kōzō, while leisurely smoking a cigar, calmly stepped forward.

Kōzō: “Those scoundrels are swindlers! So what if they’re frauds? What good are nobles? What use are scholars? What about our provisions! —What about your lives? —I’ll handle everything. Go on! Strip her bare or break her bones—who’d quibble over a cauldron’s weight when it’s one whore versus eight thousand lives? Carry out the rain prayer!”

The sumo wrestler led the charge as the whole mob surged forward.

“Tie me up,” (he discarded his outer garment) “If even after all I’ve said you still refuse to yield, then I must resign myself—bind me and load me onto the ox.”

Akira (discarded the sickle with a clatter): “No—if you want a substitute, tie me up instead.”
“Go on, tear me to pieces—I won’t refuse.”
“Load me onto an ox and take me to Yashagaike Pond.”
“If rain requires sacrifice through this method, I’ll parley directly with the dragon god.”

Yuri: “Oh, Mr. Akira, honored guest—I will go. Please send me.”

Akira: “No! Even if it costs my life, I won’t barter my wife! What is a dragon god? What are eight thousand people?!”
“Not to gods nor Buddhas will I sell this love.”
“Even if you claim understanding, even if you consent and say you go willingly—I will stop you.”

Kōzō (floating forward lightly while tapping his cane): “Don’t lose your wits!”
“Enough of this foolishness! And the woman—she’s merely a woman.”
“How does one enter a bathhouse?... Hah, you imbecile!”
(With a booming laugh) “You all—listen! If you are men of the nation, you must stab your wives and children and march to war—that is a man’s duty!”
“Moreover—it is our nation’s spirit! That is to say, Bushido!”
“To save people and save the village is to serve the state!”
“To devote oneself to our nation!”
“Is it so cruel to place some mother upon an ox’s back for one night in service to the nation?”
“You sniveling fool—I may be magnanimous enough to allow this, but know this: those who act rashly are traitors to the nation!”
“As for myself—Kōzō—for the village’s sake and above all for you common folk here—I would cast away my life at any moment!”

At this moment, the villagers saluted; the village mayor stroked his chin; the enthusiasts displayed satisfaction.

Akira: “Die!”
(With those words, he picked up the dropped sharp sickle and thrust it firmly.)

Kōzō: “Agh!”
(He involuntarily stepped back.)

“Die! Die! Die—you die for the people!” Akira roared. “If you perish honorably, I’ll follow suit—then I’ll surrender Yuri!” He thrust forward with each word. “Die! Why won’t you die?!”

With every grinding step Akira took, Kōzō skittered backward like a startled crab. Yuri seized her husband’s wrist—the same hand that now quivered beneath her grip even as it brandished the sickle—

"If not... then duel!"
The crowd pressed forward only to be blocked and halted amid a raucous uproar.

“Don’t come near! Your breath reeks—you lot too! You’ve been bought by that upstart nouveau riche. This same thing happened before—Shirayuki, a maiden of this village called Shirayuki. Through authority and persecution, they seized those who resisted, bound their naked bodies to oxen, and drove them to Yashagaike Pond... The maiden, consumed by indignation, shame, and despair, refused to return alive to the village. You too... you too... will meet slaughter. They stroked the ox’s muzzle, whispering ‘Grant us your life,’ cut grass through the night, heaped it high on the beast’s back, struck flint to spark flames—no whip needed then! The moment she raised her pale hand pointing toward the foothill village, that ox charged down like thunderfire, burning every last hut to cinders... Have you not heard? How Shirayuki glimpsed those crimson flames rising like dust from the valley, smiled faintly, and sank into Yashagaike’s depths? Have you forgotten? You! Dare point fingers at us—no rain will fall! Kashima Village shall become flame! You impudent curs!”

Kōzō: “Quit spouting nonsense, you brat! The village already burns beneath drought’s flames! That’s why we’re holding this rain prayer! Men! Quit dawdling—do it! Do it!” (Seeing their hesitation) “This farce ends now! Dengiku—get your men here!” he bellowed.

The gambler Dengiku brandished his menacing long dagger while Kenji swung his weapon and charged forth.

Dengiku: “Take them down! Wipe them out!”

Kenji: “Understood.”

“Yamazawa, it’s dangerous!”

Holding Yuri close, the three of them raced up to the Bell Tower.
Yamazawa positioned himself at the rear while Akira and Yuri vied to shield each other at the stairway entrance.
Forcing his way through at last, Akira stood tall and brandished his sickle.
Gamblers and the mob closed in from below together.
Yuri clung to Akira’s upraised hand.

The crowd: “Do it! Do it! Get ’em! Get ’em!”

Yamazawa: "Inconceivable! Never have I encountered such obstinate and barbaric folk! Heaven—O heaven, let the Milky Way shine white and come crashing down as a waterfall!"
(He clasped his hands in prayer.)

“Your body is precious! Yamazawa—escape! Escape!” shouted Akira.

Even as he cried out, Dengiku—who had climbed the stone steps directly in front—exchanged two or three lightning-swift blows with him, their weapons clashing with a metallic ring.

Dengiku retreated.
At that moment, someone hurled a stone.

Akira pressed blood from the wound on his forehead. "Agh!"
He dropped the sickle.

Yuri swiftly picked it up. "Everyone, I will die. You can have no objections."
Before the words left her lips—slash!—she cut into her chest.

“Damn it!” Akira cried out as he twisted the sickle from her grasp.

“Akira... You’re unhurt... Akira,” Yuri gasped before crumpling to the ground.

The crowd paled and stood frozen in shock.

“I won’t let even one pass!” Akira declared. “I will bear this thorny path through to the end.” His voice softened as he turned toward Yuri’s collapsed form. “Wait for me in the world beyond—I’ll join you soon.” He straightened up abruptly, still cradling Yuri while locking eyes with Yamazawa. “What time is it?” he asked with unnerving calmness.

Yamazawa (calmly checking his watch): "Two-oh-three."

Akira: "Hmm... If you look at the stars every night, you'd know... It's exactly the midnight hour... That's right."
(Proudly staring at the bell) "Yamazawa, I won't strike this bell."
"What do you say?"

Yamazawa (after deep thought): "Hmm... Don't strike it. For Ms. Yuri's sake—don't strike it."

Akira raised his sickle and—swish!—cut.
With a boom, the bell striker fell.

At that instant，there was a terrifying sound.—An earthquake.—A mountain roar.—
Look—at Yashagaike Pond above.—
Look—at Yashagaike Pond above.—
Look—at Yashagaike Pond above.—
Pitch-black clouds appeared，—so sudden that one might have cried out in alarm—as lightning came，not ceasing for even an instant.—
The crowd panicked，unable to keep their footing；a frenzied cow charged through with a single kick，scattering them as it galloped away.—

“The bell—the bell—”

Kadenji: “Please help! Please ring the bell, I beg you!”

Takazane: “Save me, I beg! Save me, I beseech you!”

They screamed while scrambling to escape.
Heaven and earth were obscured in darkness.
Two or three people staggered up, clinging to the stone steps.

Akira cut down, drove them off, and—calmly facing the peak—stood with Yamazawa, the two of them like statues.

Akira: “A wave.”

At that moment, as Yamazawa suddenly prostrated himself, Akira—his throat slashed—collapsed face down.

Shirayukihime.

In an especially intense flash of light, she appeared momentarily upon the hut's roof before vanishing into utter darkness. Amid another fearsome lightning strike, she came to the bell tower, stood tall, swung her iron staff with precision, and reached upward from below to grasp the bell. The bell swayed unsteadily and tilted.

As the entire village fell unconscious and descended into chaos, Mannen Uba and her vassals set upon them, slaughtering every last soul without exception.—

Shirayukihime: “Nurse, how happy I am.”

All: “Your Highness.”
(Their voices rose in a terrifying chorus.)

Shirayukihime: “And what of the humans?”

Mannen Uba: “All transformed into fish.”
“Already swimming about.”
“Pond snails and loaches too—all clearly visible.”

All roared with laughter: “Hahahahaha!”

Shirayukihime declared: “This new Kane-ga-fuchi shall become the dwelling for this wedded pair.”
“Come—all of you.”
“I go now to Kengamine... My passage flows unbound.”
“Ms. Yuri—dear Ms. Yuri—let us sing together.”

Suddenly, darkness returned.
Already, the giant bell lay submerged.
Akira and Yuri—the two of them—Akira leaned his cheek against the dragon-headed bell while Yuri below trailed skirts in the water, arched backward with hands braced, looked up, gazed intently into each other’s faces, and smiled serenely.

At that moment, the moonlight blazed resplendently.

Yamazawa stood alone high in the bell tower, faced the water, bowed once, and pressed his hands together in prayer.

The moon grew ever brighter.

(Curtain)

Taishō 2 (1913), March