Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Master put me forward as his replacement, “Though he’s but twenty years old, this lad grew up at my knee since childhood. While I never gave him formal training, he’s absorbed the marrow of my techniques without significant error.” “Even fifty years of training won’t make something of a hopeless case.” “He may lack the finesse of Aogasa or Furugama, but his work pulses with raw power.” “When constructing shrines, he’s devised joinery methods at the seams and joints that escaped even my notice. Carve a Buddha statue, and he breathes such profound life into it that you’d doubt this whelp could be its maker.” “Understand this—I don’t send this one as substitute out of sickbed necessity, but because I stake my reputation that he’ll hold his own when matching skills against Aogasa and Furugama.”

Hearing this, I was so astonished I couldn’t help but widen my eyes—such was the extravagance of his words.

Until then, I had never once been praised by the master. Admittedly, this was a master who had never praised anyone, but even so, this sudden praise left me utterly stunned. Since even I—the one being praised—was so confounded, the many senior disciples who spread word that the Master had gone senile and was spouting absurdities weren’t acting purely out of jealousy. Anamaro, Lord Yonaga’s envoy, likewise found merit in the senior disciples’ claims. Thus he secretly summoned me to a separate chamber,

“Your master’s gone senile and spouted such nonsense, but surely you’re not reckless enough to willingly accept the Lord’s summons?”

When he said this, anger surged through me. Until that moment, I had doubted the Master’s words and felt uncertain of my own skills—but all that vanished in an instant as blood flooded my face. “Is the Lord of Yonaga so noble that my skill would prove inadequate?” “With all due respect, there isn’t a single temple across this land that’d call the Buddha statues I’ve carved lacking!” My vision swam and ears rang until I thought my screaming form resembled a rooster crowing at dawn. Anamaro responded with a wry smile.

“Building tutelary shrines with your fellow apprentices is an entirely different matter. The ones you’ll be competing against are Aogasa and Furugama—who alongside your master are hailed as Hida’s Three Masters.”

“Do you think I’d be scared of Aogasa, Furugama, or even the Master? If I pour my whole being into this work, my very life will dwell in the temples and Buddha statues I create.” Anamaro wore a pitying look tinged with a sigh, yet for some reason reconsidered and took me to the Lord’s manor in the Master’s stead.

“You’re a lucky one, aren’t you. The items you’ve crafted may not meet Their Excellencies’ standards, but you get to live near Her Highness Princess Yonaga—she for whom every man in Japan yearns with unseen love. So there’s that. You’d best prolong your work and devise ways to extend your stay as long as possible—even if just by a moment. No need to devise plans for a task you’ll never accomplish anyway.” Throughout the journey, Anamaro kept saying such things and irritated me.

“You wouldn’t actually take someone as hopeless as me along.” “That’s where your bug shows its limits.” “You’re one lucky bastard.”

Several times during the journey, I considered parting ways with Anamaro and turning back. Yet the honor of competing in skill with Aogasa and Furugama tempted me. The thought that others might believe I had fled out of fear of them was unbearable. I told myself. If I single-mindedly complete the work into which I've poured my very life, that's all that matters. Even if my work doesn't meet the standards of those hollow-eyed bastards, so what? I'll just enshrine the Buddha statue I carved in a wayside shrine, dig a hole beneath it, and let myself be buried in the earth to die.

It was true—I had steeled myself with a resolve so grievous it felt as if I’d never return alive. In other words, it must have stemmed from my fear of Aogasa and Furugama. To be honest, I had no confidence.

The day after arriving at the Lord’s manor, I was led by Anamaro to the inner garden where I met and greeted the Lord. The Lord was round and plump, his cheeks sagging like a god of good fortune. Beside him sat Princess Yonaga. It was said she had finally been born as his sole heir when white hairs first began appearing on the Lord’s head—that for a hundred nights they had wrung out two handfuls of gold each night, gathering the dripping dew to bathe her at birth. Because that dew had permeated her being, Princess Yonaga’s body shone with innate radiance from birth, and carried what was said to be the fragrance of gold.

I thought I had to stare single-mindedly at Princess Yonaga. Because the Master had always been telling me this.

“When you encounter a rare person or object, never look away.” My master had said so. And he had been told this by his own master, who in turn had been told by his master before him—each generation passing it down in succession from the grand ancestral masters of antiquity. “Even if a giant serpent bites your leg, do not look away.” Therefore, I stared at Princess Yonaga. Perhaps due to my timidity, I couldn’t look people in the face unless I steeled my resolve. But as I steadfastly suppressed my trepidation and began feeling satisfaction in gradually regaining composure through staring, I felt I had come to grasp the profound significance of the Master’s teaching. You mustn’t stare down as though looming over them. Together with the person or object, you must become as transparent as water of a single hue.

I stared at Princess Yonaga. Hime was still thirteen. Her frame stood tall and supple, yet a childlike fragrance permeated the air. There was dignity about her, but nothing fearsome. I rather felt my strained resolve loosen—perhaps because I had already lost. And though I should have been staring at Hime, it was Mount Norikura looming vast behind her that burned itself indelibly into my memory.

Anamaro brought me before the Lord, “This is Mimio.” “Despite his youth, he had fully mastered his Master’s techniques and even devised original methods of his own—a craftsman so superior to his teacher that the Master himself had extolled him to the utmost, declaring he could not possibly be bested by Aogasa or Furugama in a contest of skill.”

He said something unexpectedly commendable. Then the Lord nodded, but “Indeed—large ears.”

He stared intently at my ears. And then, he spoke again. “Large ears tend to droop downward, but these ones stand upright, stretching higher than the head.” “Like rabbit ears.” “But your face—it’s a horse’s.” Blood surged to my head. There was nothing that made me as enraged and confused as when people mentioned my ears. No amount of courage or resolve could quell this turmoil. All the blood rushed to my upper body, and immediately sweat began pouring out. Though this was a usual occurrence, the sweat on this day was unlike any other. My forehead, the area around my ears, and the nape of my neck—all at once, sweat gushed forth and streamed down like a waterfall.

The Lord watched this with a look of bewilderment. Then Princess Yonaga shouted. "You really do look just like a horse." "Your black face turned red, just like a horse’s color." The maidservants burst into laughter. I was like a boiling cauldron itself. Steam overflowed visibly, and his face, neck, chest, back—every inch of his skin was a deep river of sweat.

But I thought I had to keep staring at Hime’s face and must not look away. With single-minded determination, I clung to that thought and poured all my strength into acting on it. However, that effort and the seething, overflowing chaos separated and proceeded in parallel, and I found myself at a loss, frozen in place. A long time passed—a time in which nothing could be done. I suddenly turned around and started running. While thinking I should come up with some proper action or composed words to say instead, I ended up taking the most unwanted and unexpected action.

I ran to the front of my room. Then he ran out beyond the gate. Then he walked but soon broke into a run again. He couldn’t bear to stay put. I followed the river’s flow into the mountain’s mixed woods and sat on a rock beneath a waterfall for a long time. Noon passed. I was hungry. However, until dusk began to fall, he couldn’t muster the strength to return to the Lord’s residence.

★

Five or six days after I arrived, Aogasa showed up. Another five or six days later, in place of Furugama, his son Chiisagama arrived. When he saw that, Aogasa scoffed and said: “So it’s not just Horse-Ears’ Master—Furugama too? It’s commendable they recognized they couldn’t beat me, Aogasa—but I do pity those two substitutes they sent in their place.” After Princess Yonaga likened me to a horse, people began calling me Horse-Ears. I found Aogasa’s arrogance detestable, but I kept silent. My resolve was set. I would simply resolve to make this place my deathbed and devote myself wholeheartedly to my work.

Chiisagama was my seventh brother. His father, Furugama, had also sent his son as a replacement under the pretext of illness, though rumors claimed it was merely feigned illness. It was said he had become angry because the messenger Anamaro went to fetch him last. However, since Chiisagama already had a reputation as a craftsman no less skilled than his father, his substitution did not come as an unexpected replacement like mine had. Perhaps due to his considerable confidence in his skills, Chiisagama listened to Aogasa’s arrogance without so much as twitching a single eyebrow hair. And then he greeted both Aogasa and me with equal formality. I found him disturbingly composed at first and felt uneasy, but as I continued observing him over time, I realized he never spoke to anyone beyond greetings like “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” or “Good evening.”

Aogasa had noticed the same thing I had. And then he said to Chiisagama.

“What’s with you spouting off nothing but perfectly rehearsed greetings? It’s like you’ve decided flies on your forehead need swatting—you’re so damn noisy! A craftsman’s hands are for using chisels—it’s not as if their shoulder bones have stretched out from swatting every last fly. The human mouth has a hole to discern necessity, but for morning and evening greetings, sticking out your tongue or even farting would suffice.” Hearing this, I found myself somewhat liking Aogasa’s blunt way of speaking.

When all three craftsmen had assembled, they were formally summoned before the Lord and given their commission. They had heard it involved creating Princess Yonaga’s personal Buddha statue, but precise details remained undisclosed.

The Lord looked at Princess Yonaga beside him and said.

“I wish for you to carve the august form of a noble Buddha who will protect this Princess’s present and future lives.” “It will be enshrined in the private Buddhist altar where Princess Yonaga will worship it morning and evening—I require both Miroku Bodhisattva’s sacred form and its pedestal.” “Mihotoke means Miroku Bodhisattva.” “Other details I leave to your individual ingenuity, but you must complete it by Princess Yonaga’s sixteenth New Year.” When the three craftsmen formally accepted the commission and finished their greetings, food and drink were served. The Lord and Princess Yonaga sat elevated at the front, three meal trays for the craftsmen arranged to their left and three more to their right. Though no one occupied those seats yet, I thought they must be meant for Anamaro and two other prominent figures. Yet what Anamaro led in were two women.

The Lord introduced the two women to us and said this.

“Cross the high mountain ahead, cross the lake beyond it, and cross the vast plain beyond that—there stands a tall mountain made only of stone and rock.” “When you cross that mountain weeping, there lies another vast plain, and beyond that, a mountain shrouded in thick mist.” “And when you cross that mountain weeping, there lies a vast, vast forest, and through it flows a great river.” “When you cross that forest weeping for three days, there lies a village where thousands of springs gush forth.” “In that village, they say for every spring in the shade of a tree, there’s a girl weaving cloth.” “The most beautiful girl wove cloth by the most beautiful spring under the largest tree in that village—the younger one here is that girl.” “Before this daughter began weaving cloth, her mother was the one who wove it—now this elderly woman here.” “They crossed a rainbow bridge from that village and came all the way to Hida’s depths to weave Princess Yonaga’s garments.” “The mother is called Tsukimachi, and the daughter Enako.” “To whoever carves a Mihotoke that pleases Princess Yonaga—I shall present this beautiful Enako as your reward.”

She was a beautiful slave weaver whom the Lord had purchased at great expense. In the Hida country where I was born, there were those who came from other lands to buy slaves—but those were male slaves, and craftsmen like me were bought into slavery. However, since those who came from distant lands to purchase them did so out of unavoidable necessity, slaves were treated with care and said to receive hospitality akin to first-class guests—but that was only until their work was completed. Since slaves bought with money became useless once their work was done, it was the master’s prerogative to give them away to people or toss them to giant snakes. Therefore, no craftsman would willingly be bought and taken to distant lands, and for women, this must have been all the more true.

Poor women, I thought. But the Lord’s words—that he would give Enako as a reward to whoever crafted a Buddha statue that pleased Princess Yonaga—shocked me.

I had no intention of crafting a Buddha statue that would please Princess Yonaga. When they said my face looked just like a horse’s and I frantically ran deep into the mountains, I remained by the waterfall basin until nearly sunset—and there I resolved to pour my entire soul into creating not a Buddha statue she would favor, but a terrifying monster with the face of a horse. Therefore, the Lord’s words—that he would give Enako as a reward to whoever crafted a Buddha statue that pleased Princess Yonaga—struck me with great shock. And I felt a surge of fury. Moreover, realizing this woman was not one I would receive, a surge of scorn welled up.

To suppress those distracting thoughts, I resolved to become one with the craftsman's heart. I thought this was precisely when to employ the craftsman's mindset the Master had instilled in me.

So I stared at Enako. Even if a giant snake bit my leg, I wouldn't take my eyes off her—I told myself this while steeling my resolve.

“This woman crossed mountains, crossed lakes, crossed plains, crossed mountains again, crossed plains again, crossed yet more mountains, crossed a vast forest—all to come here as a weaver from the village of gushing springs?” “That’s a rare animal.”

My eyes remained fixed on Enako’s face, but my focus was not unwavering. Because in suppressing my astonishment and rage, scorn had taken root—and I could do nothing to counter it. I realized it was unjust to direct this scorn at Enako—but if I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, then the contempt dwelling in my gaze had no choice but to fix itself upon her face.

Enako noticed my gaze. Gradually, her expression changed. I thought I’d messed up, but seeing hatred ignite in her eyes, I too burned with fury. We forgot everything and glared at each other with pure loathing. Her stern eyes shifted slightly. Wearing a smile thick with malice, she said: “In my homeland—where horses outnumber people—they’re used for riding and plowing fields.” “But here in your country, horses wear robes and grip chisels to build temples and carve Buddhas.”

I shot back immediately.

“In my country, women plow the fields—but in your country, horses plow the fields. So instead of horses, women weave cloth.” “The horses in my country grip chisels in their hands and do carpentry, but they don’t weave cloth.” “At least let me have you weave cloth.” “You’ve had quite the arduous journey.” Enako’s eyes snapped open. And then, she quietly stood up. She gave a slight bow to the Lord and stomped right up to me. She stopped and looked down at me. Of course, my eyes never left Enako’s face.

Enako moved halfway around the side of the dining area and circled behind me. And then, she gently pinched my ear.

"That’s all?……" I thought. I concluded it was your loss for looking away first. It was in that instant. I received a searing blow as if branded on my ear. I realized I had lurched forward and thrust my hands into the dining set at the very moment I perceived the people’s commotion echoing deep in my ears.

I turned around and looked at Enako. Enako’s right hand had drawn her dagger’s sheath and gripped it, but that hand now hung quietly downward with no trace of killing intent visible. It was Enako’s left hand that hung there—clumsily suspended in midair as if it had some vague purpose. I suddenly realized what the thing being pinched by those fingers was.

I turned my neck and looked at my left shoulder. I’d vaguely sensed something was off about that spot—now my entire shoulder was drenched in blood. Blood was also dripping from the rim of my ear. As if recalling some long-forgotten memory, I noticed the pain in my ear. “This is one of the horse ears.” “The other one—use your axe to slice it off and make it at least resemble a human ear.” Enako dropped the severed upper part of my ear into my sake cup and left.

★

Six days passed after that.

Because we were to each build our own huts in a section of the estate and seclude ourselves there to work, I too had gone to cut trees from the mountain and was now building my hut.

I decided to build my hut behind the storehouse—a place where people wouldn’t intrude. The area was overgrown with weeds and served as a dwelling place for snakes and spiders, so people avoided it out of fear.

“I see. If you’re building a horse stable, this spot would do—though the sunlight’s a bit poor, don’t you think?”

Anamaro appeared nonchalantly and mocked me.

“Horses are sensitive creatures—they can’t focus on their work when people come near. Once I finish building the hut and begin my work, I ask that you do not enter the workshop under any circumstances.” I had to devise double-layered high windows and install special mechanisms on the entrance to ensure no one could peer into the workshop. My work had to remain secret until completion. “Now then, Horse-Ears. Since the Lord and Princess summon you, take an axe and follow me.”

Anamaro said this. “Is just the axe enough?”

“Yeah.” “You want me chopping garden trees now, is that it?” “Using an axe might be part of a craftsman’s work, but woodworkers and craftsmen ain’t the same breed.” “If all you need’s rough chopping, there’s others better suited.” “I’d thank you not to bother me with this trifling crap.”

Muttering to himself, Anamaro came over with an axe in hand, then scrutinized me from head to toe with a strange look before—

“Now, sit.”

He said this and sat down first on a scrap of lumber. I sat facing him. “Horse-Ears.” “Listen well.” “That stubborn drive to outdo Aogasa and Chiisagama’s craftsmanship is admirable enough—but you wouldn’t truly wish to work in a place like this.” “What’s that supposed to mean?!” “Hmm. Think on it.” “Having your ear sliced off—that must’ve hurt.”

“Compared to the ear canal, the ear flap seemed like dead weight. When I mixed shredded poison dami leaves with pine resin as a coagulant and smeared it on, the pain vanished clean—and truth be told, it even serves quite well as an ear now.” “Even if you stay here from now on, nothing good will come to you.” “Losing just an ear would be mercy—next time it might cost your life.” “I’m not lying to you.” “Get out. Go home.” “Here’s a bag of gold.” “Three years carving some Miroku statue won’t earn you half this much.” “I’ll make sure things are settled with the higher-ups. Leave now—while you still can.”

Anamaro’s face was unexpectedly serious. Did he want me gone this badly? Was I such a worthless craftsman that they’d give me gold surpassing three years’ wages just to drive me out? Thinking this, anger welled up inside me. I shouted. “Is that so. “So according to you people, my hands aren’t those of a craftsman who wields chisels and planes, but the arms of a woodcutter hacking at trees with an axe—is that your estimation?” “Fine then.” “I am no longer a craftsman hired here as of today.” “But allow me at least to work in this hut.” “I can manage to feed myself, so I won’t require any assistance, nor do I need a single coin.” “There should be no issue with me working independently for three years.”

“Wait.” “Wait.” “You seem to be misunderstanding.” “No one’s saying they want to drive you out because you’re inexperienced.”

“If I’m being told to leave with nothing but an axe, then I suppose there’s no other way to take it.”

“Well.” “That’s what I’m talking about.” Anamaro placed his hands on both my shoulders and stared at me with peculiar intensity. Then he said: “I phrased that poorly.” “The order to come along with nothing but an axe was the master’s command.” “But telling you to flee this place right now without bringing the axe—those words are mine alone.” “No, not just mine—in truth, the Lord himself privately desires this outcome.” “That’s why I’ve been instructed to hand over this bag of gold and let you escape.” “Because if you were to appear before the Lord with me, axe in hand, something ill would befall you.” “The Lord has your best interests at heart.”

The cryptic remarks irritated me all the more. "If you're truly concerned for my sake, then lay out the reason plain instead of dancing around it."

“I’d like to tell you, but some words can’t be spoken without consequences once said.” “But, as I’ve been saying from the start, something life-threatening might happen to you.”

I immediately made up my mind. I slung the axe and stood up.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Look,”

“Ha ha ha! Don’t go jesting now. Though it pains me to boast, we Hida craftsmen get hammered into pouring our very lives into our work since we’re snot-nosed brats. I’ve got no mind to throw my life away except through my craft—but if the choice is between that and being branded a coward who ran from a test of skill, I’ll take the blade over the shame any day.”

“If you live long enough, you could become a master craftsman renowned across the land. But you’re still young.” “A moment’s shame will wash away if you live long enough.”

“Enough with the unnecessary talk already. Cut it out.” “I’d stopped expecting to return alive from the moment I came here.”

Anamaro gave up. Then he abruptly turned cold.

“Follow me.”

He took the lead and strode off resolutely.

★

He was led to the inner garden. A straw mat had been spread on the earthen ground by the veranda. That was my seat.

Opposite me, Enako was stationed. Restrained with her hands behind her back, she sat directly on the earthen ground. Hearing my footsteps, Enako raised her head. And, as if she were a dog about to leap if her restraints were removed, she glared at me without releasing her gaze. Insolent wretch, I thought. "If I, who had my ear cut off, were to hate the woman, that I could understand—but why the woman would hate me makes no sense at all." As I thought this, it suddenly struck me—since the pain in my ear had faded, I hadn’t once recalled this woman.

"When I think about it, it’s strange," I thought. "Someone with a temper like mine not cursing the woman who cut off my ear—that’s odd. I’d thought about having my ear cut off by someone, but rarely considered it was this woman who’d done it. On the contrary, I can’t fathom why that wench hates me like I’m her sworn enemy." My entire cursed resolve had been poured into carving demon gods—likely why I’d had no time to spare for some insignificant woman. When I was fifteen, one of my comrades pushed me off a roof and broke my arms and legs. This comrade had nursed a grudge over something trivial. With broken bones, I couldn’t work as a carpenter for three months, yet the Master refused to let me take even a single day off. I’d had to carve transom panels with one hand and one leg. Bone fractures torment you with pain that steals sleep at night. I’d swung my chisel through tears, but came to realize working tearfully by day was easier to bear than endless sleepless nights spent weeping. Sometimes I rose at midnight under the full moon to chisel, writhing when agony overwhelmed me—once even slipping to stab my own thigh. Never had I understood so viscerally that nothing surpassed suffering except work. The transom I carved crippled? When I later inspected it whole-bodied, no adjustments were needed.

Because that experience had seared itself into my being, the pain of having one ear severed only served to fuel my work. I thought, I’ll make you realize soon enough. And though I shuddered as I conjured up visions of an ever more terrifying demon god, it seems I never once considered that this woman would be the one to force me to understand. “I can almost grasp why I don’t curse her,” I thought, “but why she hates me like a sworn enemy makes no sense. Maybe when the lord said those things, she started believing I wanted her—that’s why she’s hexing me like this.”

As I thought this, it began to make sense. At that moment, seething anger welled up. Stupid wench. Do you think I work because I want you? Even if told to take her back, I'd just brush her off like a caterpillar fallen on my shoulder and discard her as I walked away. Having thought this through, my mind settled.

“I have brought Mimio.”

Anamaro shouted loudly toward the interior of the room. Then, there was a stirring beyond the reed screen, and the seated Lord spoke.

“Is Anamaro present?” “I am here.” “Inform Mimio of the verdict.” “Understood.” Anamaro glared at me and delivered the following verdict. “If it were known that our household’s female slave cut off one of Mimio’s ears, there would be no justification before all Hida’s craftsmen or all Hida’s people.” “Therefore, Enako is sentenced to death. However, as Mimio is the aggrieved party, he shall have her beheaded with his own axe.” “Mimio, strike.”

Hearing this, I thought Enako glaring at me like a sworn enemy was only natural. Once this suspicion was cleared, there would be nothing left for me to concern myself with. I said.

“Your kindness cuts deep, but I’ll have no part in it.”

“Won’t you strike?” I straightened up defiantly. I grabbed the axe， stomped forward， glared at Enako from right in front of her， and stared her down with a menacing look.

He circled behind Enako, pressed the axe against them, and briskly severed the ropes. And he briskly returned to his original seat. I deliberately said nothing.

Anamaro laughed and said.

“Do you want Enako’s living neck more than her dead one?” When I heard this, blood rushed to my face. “What nonsense! Hida’s Mimio wouldn’t give a damn about some weaver wench who’s no better than an insect! If you think I just had my ear bitten by some bug from the eastern woods, isn’t it only natural I wouldn’t get angry? I don’t want the bug’s dead head or living head either!” I had shouted those words defiantly, but my face flushing crimson and sweat bursting forth betrayed what I truly felt.

My face flushed crimson and sweat poured out—not because of any ulterior desire for this woman’s living head. Though there seemed no reason for her to hate me, since she glared at me like a sworn enemy, I concluded she must be cursing me under the assumption that I wanted her for myself. And, you stupid woman. Even if someone told me to take you back, I’d just brush you off like a caterpillar that fell on my shoulder and walk away.

The very thing I’d been so concerned about—that being suspected of having ulterior motives I didn’t possess would be troublesome—was now being voiced by Anamaro himself out of nowhere. Caught off guard, I panicked. Once I panicked, ashamed and tormented by it, my face would burn even hotter, and sweat would gush forth like a waterfall—this was always how it went for me. What a mess. How regrettable. “If I’m drenched in sweat and panicking like this, it’ll only make it seem like I’m confessing that my ulterior motives are exactly as suspected.”

As I thought this, I grew even more flustered. Beads of sweat dripped steadily from my forehead, showing no sign of abating. I resigned myself and closed my eyes. For me, this blushing and sweat were formidable enemies I couldn’t properly resist. There was no way to stop the rain of sweat except by closing my eyes in resignation and striving to empty my mind.

At that moment，Hime’s voice was heard. “Raise the reed screen.”

she ordered. There were probably maids present too, but I kept my eyes closed and refrained from checking. To stop this rain of sweat even a moment sooner, I mustn’t look at what I want to see. I wanted to see Princess Yonaga’s face intently one more time.

“Mimio.” “Open your eyes.” “And answer my questions.”

Princess Yonaga commanded. I reluctantly opened my eyes. The reed screen had been rolled up, and the Princess stood at the edge. “You said even after Enako hacked off your ear, it felt like being bitten by a bug?” “Is that truly so?”

I thought it was an innocent，bright smile． I nodded emphatically， “That’s exactly right，” I answered． “You mustn’t later claim it was a lie．”

“I won’t say any such thing.” “Since I think they’re just bugs, I don’t give a damn about their dead heads or living heads.” Princess Yonaga nodded with a smile. Princess Yonaga said to Enako:

“Enako.” “Go on and bite one of Mimio’s ears.” “Since being gnawed by bugs doesn’t seem to anger him, you should bite to your heart’s content.” “I’ll lend you the bug’s teeth.” “It’s one keepsake from my departed mother—I’ll give it to you after you’ve bitten Mimio’s ear.”

Princess Yonaga took the dagger and handed it to her maid. The maid offered it up and presented it before Enako. I never imagined Enako would actually accept it. Instead of cutting off a neck with an axe, it was the dagger that severed my ear after slicing through the restraining rope.

However, Enako accepted it. Of course, if it was the dagger Princess Yonaga had given, she couldn’t very well refuse—but I thought there was no way she’d actually unsheathe it.

The lovely Hime was innocently enjoying her mischief. Behold her bright smile. This was the very picture of a smile so innocent it wouldn’t hurt a fly. There was no exhilaration in her mischief, nor any shadow of plotting. Her smile was that of a young girl through and through.

This is what I thought. The problem was whether Enako could return the dagger she'd deftly accepted through clever words to Princess Yonaga. If she could devise words cunning enough to successfully retain possession of the dagger, it would be all the more amusing. If I could then cleverly counter with a witty retort of my own, nothing could surpass that. Princess Yonaga would undoubtedly lower the reed screen in satisfaction.

That I had thought this way was something strange when I later reflected on it. For Hime had given Enako the dagger and ordered her to cut off my ear, and when it came down to it, wasn’t the fundamental cause of me losing one ear none other than Hime herself? And the reason I had resolved to carve a terrifying demon god statue was for Hime’s sake. The first person to see that statue and be shocked would have to be Hime herself. That Hime had given Enako the dagger and ordered her to cut off my ear, yet I had fleetingly considered it a blissful moment of play—this was indeed a strange thing when I reflected upon it. Was it because of Hime’s vivid smile and her clear, round eyes? I felt no strangeness, as though in a dream.

Because I thought Enako wouldn’t draw the blade from its sheath**,** I poured that conviction into my gaze and stared entranced at Hime’s smiling face**.** Looking back**,** this was my greatest oversight—a lapse in vigilance**.**

When I noticed the ferocious determination and turned my gaze, Enako was already stomping forward right in front of me.

Shit! I thought. Enako drew the dagger from its sheath right before my nose and pinched the tip of my ear. I forgot everything else and looked at Hime. There had to be words from Hime. Hime's words for Enako. From that vivid, clear young girl's smile should have naturally burst forth her decisive command. I stared blankly at Hime's face. Her vivid, innocent smile. Her round, crystal-clear eyes. And I sank into a daze. Even as this unfolded, I knew full well that my ear was being severed step by step, but my eyes remained fixed on Hime's face, powerless to act, and my mind was wholly consumed by the daze clouding my vision. Even after my ear had been sliced off, I kept vacantly gazing up at Hime.

When my ear was severed, I saw Hime's round eyes grow vividly large and clear. Her cheeks flushed faintly. A flicker of satisfaction surfaced only to disappear instantly. Then her laughter vanished too. Her face turned deathly serious. It also bore a contemplative look. "What? Is this all?" she seemed to be demanding in anger. Then she turned and left without a word.

As Hime turned to leave, I noticed large teardrops welling up in my eyes, each one forming distinctly.

★

The next three full years became the chronicle of my battle.

I had simply shut myself away in the hut and swung my chisel, but Hime’s smile lingering in my eyes kept pressing down on every strike I made. To push back against it all—that became my desperate battle.

The fact that I had naturally become captivated by Hime made it seem like no matter how I struggled, I stood no chance of prevailing; yet I grew frantic, determined to push back at all costs and create a terrifying monstrosity of a statue.

When a faltering heart arose within me, I hit upon the idea of dousing myself with water. I doused myself ten times, twenty times—until I felt faint. Then, inspired by how one burns sesame seeds, I smoked pine resin. I burned the soles of my feet by applying fire to them. All these things were to rouse my heart and drive me to work as if launching an assault.

The area around my hut was a damp thicket teeming with countless snakes, so they slithered into the hut without hesitation, but I tore them apart and drank their living blood. And then I hung the snake corpses from the ceiling. I willed the vengeful snake spirits to possess me and seep into my work. Whenever my resolve wavered, I would venture into the thicket to catch snakes, rip them apart to extract their living blood, swallow it in one gulp, and let the remnants drip onto the half-formed monstrosity statue I was carving.

Since I was catching seven or ten snakes a day, before a single summer had ended, the snakes in the thickets around my hut had been wiped out. I entered the mountains and caught a bagful of snakes each day. The ceiling of the hut was filled with hung snake corpses. Maggots swarmed, a thick cloying stench hung heavy, they swayed in the wind, and when winter came, they rustled dryly in the gusts.

When I saw illusions of the hung snakes attacking all at once, I conversely felt strength well up. Because the vengeful spirits of snakes had taken residence within me, I felt as though I had been reborn as a serpent incarnate. And if I didn’t do this, I couldn’t have continued my work. I lacked the confidence to craft a monstrosity imbued with enough power to push back against Hime’s smile. I had realized my own strength alone wasn’t sufficient. In the torment of fighting it, I even thought it would be better if I just went mad. I even prayed that my heart would become a vengeful spirit possessing Hime. However, whenever I began carving the crucial part of the work, I would inevitably notice that my chisel was being pressed down by Hime’s smile.

When the third spring arrived, the statue was about seventy percent complete and approaching the critical stage of finishing, so I thirsted for live snake blood. I plunged into the mountains and caught rabbits, raccoon dogs, and deer, ripped open their chests to squeeze out their living blood, and scattered their entrails. I cut off their necks and let the blood drip onto the statue.

“Drink the blood. And let life dwell within Hime’s sixteenth New Year to become a living being. Become a demon that kills people and drinks their live blood.”

It was the face of some long-eared entity—whether a monstrosity, a demon god, a death god, an oni, or a vengeful spirit—even I couldn’t discern its true nature. I would have been satisfied if it were merely a terrifying thing imbued with enough power to push back against Hime’s smile.

In mid-autumn, Chiisagama finished his work. By the end of autumn, Aogasa had also finished his work. When winter came, I finally finished carving the statue. However, I had not yet begun work on the pedestal meant to enshrine it. I decided the pedestal’s shape and patterns must be exclusively cute—suitable for Hime’s furnishings. To make the statue’s dreadfulness manifest upon opening the doors, its style had to remain utterly delicate.

During the few remaining days, I threw myself into the pedestal work, often forgetting to eat or sleep. Working right up until the final moments of New Year's Eve night, I somehow managed to complete it. Though I couldn't achieve elaborate carvings, I lightly adorned the door with flowers and birds. It was neither extravagant nor ornate, but in its simplicity, I felt a quiet dignity had settled within it.

Late at night, I enlisted help to haul it out and placed my piece beside the works of Chiisagama and Aogasa. In any case, I was satisfied. I returned to the hut, threw the fur over myself, and collapsed into sleep as though being dragged down into the earth's depths.

★

I woke to the sound of knocking on the door. Day had broken. The sun seemed quite high. Oh. It suddenly occurred to me—today was Hime’s sixteenth New Year. The sound of knocking persisted obstinately. I thought it was the maid bringing food, so

“Shut up. Leave it outside quiet like always. I ain’t got no New Year or First Day here. After three years, you still don’t get I’ve been hammerin’ it through your thick skull till my tongue went raw—this place plays by different rules than the outside world?”

“When you wake up, open the door.” “Don’t talk like you know everything.” “I don’t open doors just ’cause I’ve woken up.”

“Then when will you open it?” “When there’s no one outside.” “Is that so?” When I heard that voice—recognizing Hime’s unforgettable cadence—I instinctively knew it was her. My entire body froze with terror. Not knowing what to do, I paced aimlessly, squandering time in vain.

“Come out while I’m still here.” “If you don’t come out, I’ll make sure you do.”

A quiet voice said this. I had sensed that Hime had ordered her maids to pile something outside the door, but at the sound of flint striking, I intuitively knew it was dry firewood. I sprang toward the doorway as if propelled, removed the latch, and threw open the door. As the door opened, Hime entered the hut with a smile, like a gust of wind rushing in. She passed before me and took the lead in entering. In three years, Hime’s body had grown unrecognizably into that of an adult. Her face had matured into an adult’s, but her innocent, bright smile alone remained as clear and pure as a young girl’s from three years prior.

The maidservants recoiled at the hut's interior. Princess Yonaga alone betrayed no hesitation. Hime curiously scanned the room before tilting her head upward. Snakes hung as countless bones from above while others lay shattered below. "They're all snakes." Vitality sparkled through Hime's smiling features. She stretched toward a dangling serpent bone overhead. The skeletal fragment disintegrated upon her shoulder. With an absent swipe she dismissed the debris. Each crumbling relic proved too novel to hold her fleeting attention.

“Who came up with this idea?” “Are all of Hida’s craftsmen’s workshops like this?” “Or is it only your workshop?” “Probably just my hut.” Princess Yonaga did not so much as nod, but soon her smile gleamed with icy brilliance in satisfaction. Three years ago, the face of Hime I had last seen had suddenly become serious, tense, and utterly bored, but in my hut, smiles never ceased.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t light the fire—if I’d burned it down, I wouldn’t have been able to see this.”

After surveying everything, Hime muttered in satisfaction—and “But now, go ahead and burn it down.”

She had the maidservants pile dry firewood and set it ablaze. After confirming that the hut was engulfed in smoke and had burst into flames all at once, Hime said to me. “Thank you for the unusual Miroku statue.” “Compared to the other two, I’ve come to like this one a hundred times over—no, a thousand times over.” “I want to give you Gohōbi, so go change into clothes.” It was a bright, innocent smile. Leaving that in my eyes, Hime departed.

I was led by the maidservant to bathe and changed into the clothes Hime had provided. And then, I was led to the inner chamber.

Due to terror, I had been distracted since bathing. I thought, Now, at last, Hime is going to kill me. I was able to fully realize what Hime's innocent smile truly was. This was the same smile that had watched Enako cut off my ear, and the same smile that had gazed at the countless snakes hanging from my hut’s ceiling. It was this smile that ordered Enako to cut off my ear, and it was this same smile that decreed Enako’s neck be severed by my axe—for in truth, this smile desired nothing but to witness those very acts.

Back then, when Anamaro had urged me to flee that place quickly and said that even the Lord privately wished for me to escape from there, those words now struck me as precisely true. Against this smile, even the Lord must have found himself powerless. It’s no wonder, I thought. This smile—the one that had set fire to a corner of my home without hesitation on the New Year’s Day people celebrated—would neither fear hellfire nor dread the pool of blood. As for the monster I had created, it would be nothing more than a plaything from when this smile belonged to a child of seven or eight.

“Thank you for the unusual Miroku statue.” “I’ve come to like it a hundredfold—no, a thousandfold—more than the others.” Recalling Hime’s words, I shuddered and cowered at their terror. What fearsome power could that monster I created possibly hold? The true force that freezes hearts to the core resides not within it at all. What is truly terrifying is this smile. This smile alone must be the one truly dreadful thing that even living demon gods and vengeful spirits could never hope to equal.

It was only now that I finally understood the true nature of this smile, but during my three years of labor—I who had always been pressed down by Hime’s smile while striving to create something terrifying—perhaps some part of my heart had sensed it all along, even without comprehension. If one is to create something truly terrifying, then being pressed down by this smile would only be natural. For what is truly terrifying cannot surpass this smile.

As a memento of this life, I resolved to carve this smile into permanence before being killed. For me, there remained no doubt that Hime would kill me—indeed today, after being hastily led from the bath to the inner chamber, she would surely end me. I thought she might rend me like a snake and hang me inverted. At that vision, terror nearly stilled my breath; I reflexively pressed desperate hands in prayer—yet even were I to wail until my soul shattered, that smile would grant no mercy.

To escape this fate, I concluded there was only this one way. That aligned perfectly with my desperate wish as a craftsman. Anyway, I'll try asking Hime, I thought. And when my mind was made up like this, I was finally able to get out of the bath.

I was led to the inner chamber. The Lord appeared with Princess Yonaga in tow. Too frantic for formal greetings, I pressed my forehead to the floor and cried out desperately. I lacked the strength to raise my face.

“This is my final request.” “I humbly beseech you—allow me to carve Princess’s face and figure.” “If I can carve that into permanence, then whenever I die after that, I will have no regrets.” Unexpectedly, the Lord’s reply came with surprising straightforwardness. “If Princess Yonaga consents to that, it would be an unexpected boon.” “Princess Yonaga,” “Do you have any objections?”

Princess Yonaga’s reply was also straightforward—this too was utterly unexpected.

“I was going to ask Mimio to do that.” “If Mimio desires it, I have no objections.”

“That is good.” The Lord was so delighted that he inadvertently shouted aloud, but then he spoke gently to me.

“Mimio. Raise your face. For three years, you have endured much. Your Miroku may be an ironic creation, but the vigor of its carving—this is no common craftsman’s work. Since Hime seems particularly pleased with it, I have nothing more to add beyond satisfaction. Well done.”

The Lord and Hime gave me various gifts. At that moment, the Lord added: "I promised to give Enako to whoever crafted a statue that pleased Hime, but since Enako has died, it’s regrettable this particular promise can no longer be fulfilled."

Then, interjecting, Princess Yonaga said: “Enako had pierced her throat with the same dagger that severed Mimio’s ears.” “The blood-soaked kimono Enako wore—that very one is what Mimio has now made into undergarments and wears on his body.” “I had it remade into men’s clothing so he could wear it as a substitute.”

I had long since stopped being shocked by something like this, but the Lord’s face turned pale. Princess Yonaga was beaming and staring at me.

★

Around that time, the epidemic had spread even to these remote mountains, and there was no end to those dying in that village and this hamlet. The epidemic had finally swept into this village as well—house by house they pasted talismans to ward off the plague, kept their doors tightly shut even in broad daylight, and gathered their families to pray day and night to the gods and buddhas—yet the devil—slipping in through some unseen crack—only made the number of dead multiply by the day.

Even in the Lord’s mansion—where the family kept the wide estate’s shutters closed and held their breath throughout the day—in Princess Yonaga’s room alone, she would not permit the shutters to be shut. “The monster statue Mimio carved—since it’s a monster he created by slaughtering countless snakes, hanging them upside down, and chiseling while drenched in their living blood imbued with curses—seems to at least function as a talisman against epidemics.” “Since this monster seems to have no other purpose, go ahead and display it outside the gate.”

Princess Yonaga ordered people to place it with a heavy thud before the gate. The Lord’s mansion had a tower. Princess Yonaga would sometimes climb this tower to gaze at the village, and whenever she saw those transporting corpses to be discarded in the forest at the village outskirts, she seemed content for the day.

In the hut Aogasa had left behind, I poured my entire being into carving Princess Yonaga’s Miroku Bodhisattva statue for her private altar. To imprint Princess Yonaga’s smile upon the Buddha’s face—that was my intent. Within these mansion walls, only Princess Yonaga and I still moved like living beings. When she heard I was engraving her smile into Miroku’s visage for her altar, Princess Yonaga wore an air of satisfaction—yet showed no true interest in my work’s progress. Never once did she visit to inspect how my chisel advanced. Her appearances at the hut came only when she spied processions bearing corpses to the forest—not to seek me out specifically, but to methodically inform every soul in the mansion without exception. This ritual seemed her peculiar delight.

“There’s been another death today.”

Even when telling them this, she would beam with apparent delight. She never took the opportunity to check on the Buddha statue’s progress. She did not so much as glance at it. And she did not stay long.

I began to suspect Princess Yonaga was toying with me. She maintained a casual demeanor, but I often thought she must have truly intended to kill me on New Year’s Day after all—because when she had them place the monster I’d created before the gate as a plague ward, “Since it’s a monster Mimio carved after slaughtering countless snakes, hanging them upside down, and drenching himself in their living blood while chanting curses,” she declared, “it should at least serve as a talisman against epidemics. Since it seems to have no other purpose, display it outside the gate.”

They said she had declared. I heard this through others and couldn’t help but freeze. The terror of Hime keeping me alive—that she had even discerned I’d carved it while casting curses—struck me. What terrified me were the true depths of Hime’s intentions: how she’d selected my work from the three craftsmen’s pieces only to sneer that it seemed fit for nothing but warding off plague. On that New Year’s Day when they gave me gifts, even the Lord turned pale at her words. The true depths of Hime’s heart likely eluded even her father the Lord. Until Hime acted, her mind would remain an inscrutable enigma to all. Even if killing me wasn’t on her mind now, it might have been come New Year’s—or tomorrow. That Hime had taken interest in me meant being killed by her anytime would be no wonder.

My Miroku had apparently drawn closer to Princess Yonaga’s innocent smile. Round eyes. A dewy-fresh, rounded nose with jewels cradled at its tip. But such facial contours required no particular technical skill. What demanded my entire soul’s devotion was unraveling the secret behind that guileless smile—a lucid, radiantly bright expression without a trace of shadow. No hint of bloodlust lingered there. Not a shade of color nor whiff of scent suggestive of a demon god could be detected. It was wholly the smile of an innocent girl, utterly devoid of secrets. That itself was the secret of Princess Yonaga’s smile.

"There might be something emanating from Princess Yonaga’s face beyond its form," I mused. They said her body had glowed with a golden aura since birth—her first bath drawn from dew pressed from gold—yet sometimes the eyes of common folk could pierce secrets with startling clarity. That invisible essence shrouding her face—it was my chisel that had to carve it out. I thought these things.

And when I considered that this innocent smile might be the face that would kill me someday, that very fear became the core of my work. There were moments when, pausing my hands, I would notice that this fear had seeped into my heart with such nostalgia that even embracing it felt insufficient.

Princess Yonaga appeared at my hut,

“More people died today.” When she said this, I had nothing to say and could only stare at Princess Yonaga’s smiling face.

I never felt compelled to ask Princess Yonaga about her true intentions. Worldly thoughts are futile. If Princess Yonaga had any true nature, her innocent smile—and her scent—were all there was to it. At least for craftsmen, that was all there was—and for my present self, that must be all there was. From the moment three years ago when I became captivated by Princess Yonaga’s face, it was as though everything had already been decided.

Apparently, Hōsō神 had passed by. A fifth of the village had died. Even though many people lived in the Lord’s mansion, not a single person had fallen ill, so the monster I had created suddenly became revered by the villagers. The Lord was the first to devote himself wholeheartedly.

“Since it’s a monster Mimio carved—after ripping apart countless snakes alive, hanging them upside down, and drenching himself in their living blood while imbuing it with curses—even Hōsō神 can’t approach due to its terror.”

The Lord parroted Princess Yonaga’s words and proclaimed them far and wide.

The monster was transported down from the gatefront of the Lord’s mansion on the mountaintop and enshrined within a makeshift shrine at a three-way fork by the pond at the mountain’s base. People from distant villages came to worship it in no small numbers. And I was suddenly hailed as a master craftsman, but it was Princess Yonaga who gained even greater renown. They claimed that even the monster I created being completed in time to protect the Lord’s household was due to Princess Yonaga’s power. A noble god resides within Princess Yonaga’s living body. The reputation that she was the incarnation of a noble god instantly spread to the villages.

Among the people who came to worship the monster I created at the shrine below the mountain, some would visit the gatefront of the Lord’s mansion atop the hill to prostrate themselves in prayer before returning, while others left offerings at the gate.

Princess Yonaga showed me the offerings of turnips and leafy greens and said. “This is what you’ve received.” “Cook them well and eat up.”

Princess Yonaga’s face beamed with a radiant smile. I took Princess Yonaga’s visit as mockery and grew irritated. And I answered. “Many Hida craftsmen have created renowned Buddha statues, but I have never heard of them receiving offerings.” “Since it must be an offering to the living god, please boil it well and eat up.”

Princess Yonaga’s smile did not respond to my words. Princess Yonaga said. “Mimio, “The monster you created truly glared back at Hōsō神 for me.” “I watched it every day from the tower.”

I stared dumbfounded at Princess Yonaga’s smiling face. Yet Princess Yonaga’s heart was impossible to fathom.

Princess Yonaga said further.

“Mimio.” “Even if you had climbed the tower and seen the same things as I, you wouldn’t have been able to see your monster glaring back at Hōsō神.” “Because ever since your hut burned down, your eyes have been blind.” “And the Miroku you’re carving now doesn’t even have the power to ease old men’s and women’s headaches.”

Princess Yonaga gazed piercingly at me. And then, she turned around and walked away. In my hands remained the turnips and leafy greens. I felt as though I had fallen under Princess Yonaga’s spell and become utterly enthralled. I thought she was a terrifying princess. I thought she might indeed be a princess beyond human power. But what did it mean that the Miroku I was carving now didn’t even have the power to ease old men’s and women’s headaches? "That monster has no power to make children cry, but Miroku should have something." "At least, the soul of the person called me has probably been transferred entirely into it."

I thought I could declare this with conviction, but what shook and crumbled the very root of that conviction was Princess Yonaga’s smile. It seemed that what I had let slip away must surely exist somewhere, yet I felt adrift, and suddenly, an unbearable, heartrending sorrow welled up within me.

★

Before fifty days had even passed since Hōsō神 had swept through, a different epidemic now crossed over villages and hamlets.

Summer had come, and the scorching midday sun persisted. Again, people lowered their shutters against the midday sun and spent their days praying to gods and Buddhas. However, because they hadn’t cultivated their fields during Hōsō神’s passing, this time too, if they didn’t till the fields, their food supplies would run out. So the farmers went out to the fields trembling and swung their hoes up and down, but even those who had left in high spirits in the morning would end up writhing in agony under the midday sun, crawl around the fields for a while, and perish—and such cases were not few.

There were also those who had come to worship at the monster’s shrine at Mitsumata below the mountain and died before it.

“O noble divinity of Princess Yonaga.” “Cast out this pestilence.”

There were also those who came to the Lord’s gatefront and prayed thus. The Lord’s mansion too had once again closed its shutters against the midday sun, and people lived holding their breath. Princess Yonaga alone opened the shutters, occasionally gazing down at the village below from the tower, and each time she spotted a dead person, she would make sure to inform everyone in the mansion. Princess Yonaga came to my hut and said. “Mimio, what do you think I saw today?” Princess Yonaga’s eyes seemed to shine with a deeper brilliance than usual. Princess Yonaga said.

“I saw an old woman who came to worship at the monster’s shrine, writhed in convulsions before it, clung to it, and died.” I told her.

“That monster of yours couldn’t even glare back at this plague god either, could it?”

Princess Yonaga ignored that and calmly issued this command.

“Mimio,” “Fetch snakes from the back mountain.” “Fill a large bag to the brim.” She had given this command, but I had no choice but to obey Princess Yonaga’s orders. I could only move in silence, acting exactly as she willed. Not even a doubt about what she intended to do with those snakes occurred to me until after Princess Yonaga had left.

I ventured into the back mountain and caught countless snakes. Last year around this time, and even the year before that, I had caught snakes in this mountain and felt nostalgic about it, but it was then that I suddenly realized.

Last year around this time, and even the year before that, when I had wandered this mountain catching snakes, it had been while desperately struggling to rouse a heart that faltered under the weight of Princess Yonaga’s smile. When pressed by Princess Yonaga’s smile, the half-carved monster before me looked utterly gutless. Every single chisel mark looked utterly futile. And I had kept trembling with fear that even if I drank every last drop of this mountain’s living snake blood, it still wouldn’t be enough to summon the courage to look upon that gutless monster again with clear eyes.

Compared to back then, I was no longer pressed by Princess Yonaga’s smile. No—perhaps I was still being pressed, but there was no anxious battle of needing to push back. It was simply that I dwelled in art’s true samadhi realm, where all that mattered was whether my chisel could faithfully express the force of that smile pressing upon me. Now that I stood with an honest heart, I ceaselessly lamented my own clumsiness in the half-carved Miroku before me—yet never did I feel such shameless despair as when that monster had appeared gutless to my eyes. The chisel marks carving that monster, whenever pressed by Princess Yonaga’s smile, had looked like nothing but utter waste.

At any rate, now that I’d found peace of mind and was fighting straightforwardly with my art, I had thought there was no difference between last year’s me and this year’s me—but then it suddenly struck me that I must have changed quite significantly. And I thought that this year’s me surpassed last year’s me in every way.

I stuffed a large bag full of snakes and returned. Princess Yonaga’s eyes sparkled innocently at the size of its bulge. Princess Yonaga said. “Bring the bag and come to the tower.”

I climbed to the tower. Princess Yonaga pointed below and said. “There’s a monster’s shrine by Mitsumata Pond, right?” “You can see people clinging to the shrine and dying, can’t you?” “An old woman.” “No sooner had she reached there and prayed a little than she suddenly stood up and began a writhing dance.” “Then she staggered around crawling, and just when I thought she’d finally grabbed the shrine, she stopped moving, you know.”

Princess Yonaga's eyes remained fixed there without moving. Princess Yonaga then turned her gaze to various parts of the world below and stared hungrily. And she murmured: "There are so many people working in the fields." "During Hōsō, you couldn't see anyone working in the fields at all." "Even though some come to worship at the monster's shrine and die, the field workers remain unharmed, don't they?"

Since I was holed up in my workshop engrossed in work, I had almost no interaction with the people within the estate, let alone those outside. So even when I occasionally heard terrifying rumors of the epidemic ravaging the villages, to me they were affairs of another realm, and I was never pierced by any profound feeling. Even when I heard that my monster had been enshrined as a talismanic deity and I was being hailed as a master craftsman, even that remained an affair of another realm.

I gazed down at the village from the tower for the first time. It was merely a view that shortened the distance compared to looking down from the back mountain, but when I saw people clinging to the monster's shrine in death, even that detached spectacle—having nothing to do with myself—stung my eyes with the wretchedness of human habitation. That such a monster couldn't possibly work as a talisman was perfectly clear, yet the fact that people died clinging to that shrine made for a sinful tale. I thought it would be better to just burn it all down. I was also seized by a bleak sense that I might be committing some crime.

Princess Yonaga remained engrossed in the view below before turning around. Then she commanded me: "Tear apart each snake in that bag alive one by one and squeeze out their blood for me. What did you do with the blood after squeezing it out?" "I caught it in Choko and drank it." "Ten? Twenty?" "I can't drink that much all at once. If you don't want to drink it, you can just splash it around there." "And then you hung the torn snakes from the ceiling, right?"

“That’s right.” “Do for me exactly what you did.” “I’ll drink the living blood myself. Hurry up.” I had no choice but to obey Princess Yonaga’s commands. I carried up the Choko to catch the living blood and tools for hanging snakes from the ceiling, tore apart each snake in the bag one by one to squeeze out their living blood, and hung them in order from the ceiling. I had doubted it possible, but Princess Yonaga showed no sign of hesitation—she smiled innocently and drank the living blood in one gulp. Until I saw that, I hadn’t thought it such a terrible thing—but from that moment on, the sheer horror was so overwhelming that even my hands, so accustomed to tearing snakes, began to falter.

Over three years, I had torn apart countless snakes, drunk their living blood, and hung their corpses upside down from the ceiling—but since these were my own actions, I never found them frightening or strange. Princess Yonaga drank the snakes’ living blood and hung their bodies upside down from the tower—what could she possibly intend to do? Regardless of whether her purpose was good or evil, Princess Yonaga—who climbed the tower and, without a hint of hesitation, smiled innocently as she drank down the snakes’ living blood—was both so innocent and so terrifying.

Princess Yonaga drank down the third snake’s living blood in one gulp. From the fourth one onward, she scattered it across the roof and floor.

When I finished tearing apart and hanging up all the snakes in the bag, Princess Yonaga said.

“Go back to the mountains one more time and fill the bag with snakes.” “As long as there’s sun, do it again and again.” “Until this ceiling’s full—today, tomorrow, and the day after too.” “Hurry.”

When I went to catch snakes just one more time, the day had already turned to dusk. A shadow of frustration cast over Princess Yonaga’s smile. Princess Yonaga's smile remained fixed on the tower ceiling for some time, gazing at the hung snakes and the empty spaces with apparent satisfaction yet underlying frustration, never moving.

“Tomorrow, set out early in the morning.” “Over and over.” “And fetch me a whole bunch.”

Princess Yonaga gazed down at the dusk-draped village with lingering reluctance. Then she spoke to me.

“Look.” “People are gathering in front of the shrine to clear away the old woman’s corpse.” “There are so many people.”

Princess Yonaga's smile grew more radiant. “During Hōsō, they’d always had at most two or three people gloomily hauling corpses, but this time the people are still so lively, aren’t they?” “I want all the villagers I can see to writhe and dance in agony until they die.” “And next, those beyond my sight as well.” “I want the people in the fields, the people on the plains, the people in the mountains, the people in the forests, and the people inside their homes—every single one of them—to die.”

As if doused with cold water, I froze and couldn't move. Princess Yonaga's voice was so crystal-clear and innocently quiet that it only made her seem all the more utterly terrifying. She drank the snakes' living blood and hung their corpses from the tower because she was praying for every last villager to die.

While I wanted to bolt away in a panic, my legs were frozen, and my heart was frozen too. I had never once thought I hated Princess Yonaga, but at that moment, I realized for the first time how terrifying it was that she was alive.

★

In the pale light of dawn, I woke up properly. Princess Yonaga’s orders had seeped into my bones—so much so that my heart was bound to wake precisely at that hour.

The weight on my heart was unbearable, but I couldn’t help but shoulder the sack and enter the mountains before dawn had fully broken. When I pushed into the mountains, I became desperate to catch snakes. I rushed to gather them as quickly as possible, as many as possible. Nothing but the single-minded desire to meet Princess Yonaga’s expectations drove me onward without respite.

When he returned carrying a large sack, Princess Yonaga was waiting in the tower. When he finished hanging all of them, Princess Yonaga’s face shone,

“It’s still much too early.” “People have only just started coming out to the fields.” “Today, fetch them over and over, over and over for me.” “Hurry up, and give it your all.”

I silently gripped the empty sack and hurried back to the mountains. I hadn’t spoken a single word to Princess Yonaga since that morning. I didn’t have the strength to speak to her. Before long, the tower’s ceiling would surely be hung full of snake corpses—but when I thought of what would happen then, I was overcome with unbearable anguish.

What Princess Yonaga was doing seemed like mere mimicry of what I’d done in my workshop—but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it was that simple. The reason I had done such things was out of a small, unavoidable necessity, but what Princess Yonaga was doing defied all human imagination. She was only mimicking my workshop because she happened to see it—if she hadn’t seen my workshop, she’d be imitating something else to do equally horrifying things.

Moreover, even something of this magnitude was likely merely the start for Princess Yonaga. What Princess Yonaga would conceive and do next in her lifetime—that was something no mortal could possibly fathom. I couldn’t help but bitterly realize that Princess Yonaga was neither someone I could handle nor someone my chisel could ever capture.

I see. Exactly as Princess Yonaga said, this Miroku I was carving now was merely a puny human. Princess Yonaga seemed as vast as this blue sky, I couldn’t help but feel.

I thought I had seen something too terrifying. How could I possibly continue my work after seeing such things? I couldn't help but lament.

When I returned shouldering the second sack, Princess Yonaga greeted me with cheeks and eyes ablaze with radiance. Princess Yonaga beamed at me and cried out in a small voice.

“Wonderful!”

Princess Yonaga pointed and said: “Look, there’s someone lying dead over there in that field.” “It was just moments ago.” “The moment they raised a hoe high into the air, they dropped it and began to writhe and dance in agony.” “And just when you think that person has stopped moving, look—there’s another one collapsed over there in that field.” “That person has started writhing and dancing in agony.” “And even though they were crawling and squirming until just moments ago.”

Princess Yonaga’s eyes were fixed intently there. Perhaps she was still expecting them to writhe again. As I listened to Princess Yonaga’s words, sweat began to ooze from my skin. An immense feeling that was neither fear nor sorrow welled up, and I no longer knew what to do. A lump rose in my chest, and I could only pant hoarsely.

At that moment, Princess Yonaga’s crystalline voice called out to me. “Mimio, “Look!” “Over there—look!” “Someone’s started twisting and thrashing about.” “Look how they twist and thrash.” “Like they’re dazzled by the sun.” “Like they’re drunk on sunlight.”

I rushed to Rankan and looked in the direction Princess Yonaga indicated. In the field right below the Lord’s mansion, a farmer had spread both arms and was swaying unsteadily as if swimming beneath the sky. It looked as if legs had sprouted from a scarecrow; swaying unsteadily, he seemed to trace small circles, stepping left and right in angular k-shaped patterns. He collapsed suddenly and began to crawl. I closed my eyes and stepped back. My face, my chest, my back—all were drenched in sweat.

"Princess Yonaga will exterminate every last villager." I believed this with absolute certainty. When I finally hung the tower’s ceiling full of snake corpses, the village’s final survivor would surely breathe their last.

When I looked up at the ceiling—since it was a wind-swept tower—dozens of snake corpses swayed in slow unison, and through the gaps I could see a beautiful blue sky. In my tightly shut hut, I had never witnessed such a sight, but that even the dangling snake corpses could be so beautiful—what could this mean? I wondered. This was not something of the human world, I thought.

I thought there was no choice but to decide between one of two options: either my hands would cut down the snake corpses I’d hung upside down, or I would flee from here. I gripped my chisel. And still, I hesitated over which to choose. At that moment, I heard Princess Yonaga’s voice.

“Finally, they’ve stopped moving. How utterly adorable they are.” “The Sun is envious.” “In all the fields, villages, and towns across Japan—The Sun watches everyone dying in this manner.”

As I listened to this, my heart changed. I thought that unless I killed Princess Yonaga, this shabby human world could not endure.

Princess Yonaga was gazing vacantly at the fields. She might have been searching for a new contorted dance of agony. What a lovely Princess Yonaga she was, I thought. And once my resolve hardened, I found myself not hesitating at all—strangely. Rather, it felt as if some immense force were propelling me forward.

When I approached Hime, I placed my left hand on Hime’s left shoulder, embraced her tightly, and drove the chisel in my right hand into her chest. My shoulders heaved in great panting waves, but Hime opened her eyes and smiled sweetly.

“You should have bid farewell first, and then kindly killed me.” “I, too, bid farewell and then had you kindly pierce my chest.”

Hime’s round eyes kept smiling at me.

I thought Hime was right. I had wanted to exchange farewells and intended to at least shout an apology before stabbing Hime, but in the end, I got too flustered and ended up stabbing her before I could say anything. What could I possibly say now? Unbidden tears overflowed from my eyes.

Then Princess Yonaga took my hand and whispered with a smile.

“The things you love—you must curse them, kill them, or struggle against them. Your Miroku fell short because of this, and your monstrosity became something wondrous for the same reason. Always hanging snakes from the ceiling… Now you’ve done magnificent work by killing me…” Princess Yonaga’s eyes smiled and closed with a smile.

I collapsed unconscious while still holding Hime.