Pathway to Japanese Literature

My master put me forward as his substitute, “This youth of twenty winters was raised at my knee since his bratling years. Though never formally instructed, he’s grasped my craft’s essence without significant flaw.” “Even if you train a man fifty years, a dud remains a dud.” “He may lack Aogasa or Furugama’s polish, but his work pulses with raw power.” “When raising shrines, he devises joints and fittings with ingenuity that escapes even my notice. Carve a Buddha statue, and he breathes such deep life into it you’d question an apprentice’s hand.” “Let it be known I send him not from illness’ compulsion, but from confidence he’ll hold his own when matching skills against Aogasa and Furugama.”

The words were so extravagantly excessive that I could only stare wide-eyed in astonishment as I listened. Until then, my master had never once praised me. To be fair, he’d never praised anyone at all—yet even so, these sudden words of commendation left me utterly dumbfounded. Given how shocked I myself felt, it wasn’t purely out of jealousy that the senior disciples spread rumors claiming Master had gone senile and blurted such outlandish things.

Yonaga’s lord’s envoy Anamaro also came to think that the senior disciples’ argument had some validity.

Thereupon, he secretly summoned me to a separate room, “Your master’s gone senile to spout such nonsense, but surely even you aren’t reckless enough to willingly accept the lord’s summons?” When he said this, a surge of anger welled up within me. Until that moment, I had doubted my master’s words and felt uncertain about my own skills—but all that vanished in an instant as blood rushed to my face. “Is the Lord of Yonaga so noble that my skills are inadequate?” “With all due respect, there shouldn’t be a single temple in all the land that lacks the Buddha statues I’ve carved.”

I was so dazzled and deafened that I thought my screaming figure resembled a rooster heralding dawn.

Anamaro gave a wry smile. “Building guardian shrines with your fellow apprentices is an entirely different matter.” “The ones you’ll be matching skills against are Aogasa and Furugama—hailed alongside your master as Hida’s Three Master Craftsmen.” “Would I ever find Aogasa, Furugama, or even my master frightening?” “If I devote myself wholeheartedly, my very life will dwell in the temples and Buddha statues I create.” Anamaro wore an expression of pitying resignation, but for some reason he reconsidered and took me to the lord’s manor in my master’s stead.

“You’re a lucky bastard. Though what you’ve crafted could never meet their standards, you’re blessed to dwell near Lady Yonaga’s very person—she for whom every man in Japan burns with longing for a love unseen. Do your damnedest to prolong the work and scheme to stretch your stay. Efforts toward an impossible task are wasted anyway.” Along the way, Anamaro kept saying such things to irritate me. “There’s no way you’d take along someone as hopeless as me anyway.”

“That’s precisely where your flaw lies. You’re a lucky bastard.” Several times during the journey, I thought of parting with Anamaro and turning back. However, the honor of competing in skill with Aogasa and Furugama tempted me. The thought that others might believe I fled in fear of them was mortifying. I told myself.

“If I complete this work—this work into which I’d poured my very life with single-minded focus—that’s all that matters.” Even if my work didn’t meet the standards of those hollow-eyed fools—so what? “I’ll enshrine the Buddha statue I carved in a roadside shrine, dig a hole beneath it, and let myself be buried in the earth to die—that’s all there is to it.” It was true—I had steeled myself with a resolve so agonizing that I would never return alive. In other words, it was due to 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 plump and rotund, his cheeks sagging, a man who resembled a god of fortune.

Beside him was Lady Yonaga. The Lord had fathered this only child when white strands first began to show in his hair—they said attendants wrung two fistfuls of gold each night for a hundred nights, gathering the dripping dew to bathe her at birth. Because that dew had seeped into her, they claimed Lady’s body shone with innate brilliance and exuded a golden scent.

I thought I must gaze at Lady Yonaga with unwavering focus. Because Master had always drilled this into me.

“When you encounter a rare person or thing, do not take your eyes off them. My master had said that. And my master had been told this by his own master, who in turn had been told by his own master—stretching back in unbroken succession to the primordial master of antiquity’s distant past. ‘Even if a giant serpent bites your leg, do not take your eyes off it.’ So I gazed at Lady Yonaga. Perhaps due to my timidity, I couldn’t look directly at people’s faces unless I steeled my resolve. Yet as I firmly suppressed my hesitation and kept gazing—gradually feeling the satisfaction of returning to calmness—that’s when I felt I had grasped the profound meaning of Master’s teachings. You must not stare down oppressively. You must become as clear and uniform as water, one with that person or object.

I gazed at Lady Yonaga. Lady Yonaga was still thirteen. Her body stood tall and supple, yet it was steeped in the scent of a child. She had dignity, but she wasn’t frightening. I actually felt as if the taut tension slackened—though perhaps that was because I lost. And yet, though I should have been gazing at Lady Yonaga, it was Mount Norikura—towering expansively behind her—that remained seared into my mind long afterward.

Anamaro presented me to the lord,

“This is Mimio.” “Though young, he has fully mastered his master’s techniques and even devised original innovations surpassing his teacher—a craftsman whom his master praised to the utmost, declaring he could never be bested by Aogasa or Furugama in skill.”

He had said something surprisingly commendable. Then the Lord nodded, but—

“Indeed, you have large ears.”

He gazed intently at my ears. And then he spoke again. “Large ears tend to droop downward, but these ears stand upright, stretching higher than the head.” “They’re like rabbit ears.” “But your face—that’s a horse’s.”

Blood surged to my head. There was nothing that enraged and confused me as much as when people mentioned my ears. No courage or resolve could prevent this chaos. All the blood rushed to my upper body, and immediately sweat began pouring out. This was nothing new, but the sweat that day was unlike any other. My forehead, around my ears, and the nape of my neck—all at once—sweat overflowed and streamed down like a waterfall.

The Lord watched this with a puzzled look. Then Lady Yonaga shouted. “You truly do resemble a horse.” “Your black face turns red—it’s exactly the color of a horse.” The maidservants burst into raucous laughter. I had become like a boiling cauldron itself. Steam seemed to rise from me; my face, neck, chest, back—my entire skin was a river of sweat. Yet I thought I must keep my eyes fixed solely on Lady’s face and not let my gaze waver. With single-minded focus, I willed this thought and strained every muscle to obey. But that effort ran parallel to the surging chaos within me until I stood frozen, helpless. A long time passed—a span where nothing could be done. I suddenly whirled around and ran. Even as I grasped for proper actions or dignified words to say, I committed the most unwanted and unforeseen act.

I ran all the way to my room. Then I ran out beyond the gate. Then I walked but broke into running again. I couldn't bear staying still. Following the river's flow into the mountain's mixed forest, I sat on a rock beneath a waterfall for a long time. Noon passed. I was hungry. Yet until dusk began to fall, I couldn't muster the strength to return to the lord's residence.

★

Five or six days after me, Aogasa arrived. Five or six days after that, Chīsagama arrived as Furugama’s replacement. When he saw that, Aogasa scoffed and said.

“I thought it was just Horse Ears’ master, but Furugama too? “Admirable that your masters realized they couldn’t beat this Aogasa—but pitiful to see two underlings sent as substitutes.” After Lady Yonaga likened me to a horse, people began calling me Horse Ears. I found Aogasa’s arrogance detestable, but kept silent. My resolve was already set. I would simply resolve to make this place my grave and devote myself single-mindedly to my work.

Chīsagama was my seventh brother. His father, Furugama, had also sent his son as a replacement under the pretense of illness, but it was rumored to have been feigned. It was said that Furugama had grown angry because the messenger Anamaro had gone to fetch him last of all. However, as Chīsagama’s reputation as a craftsman every bit his father’s equal was already well-known, it was not an unexpected substitution as in my case.

Whether it was due to his considerable confidence in his skills or sheer composure, Chīsagama listened to Aogasa’s arrogance without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. And then, he greeted both Aogasa and me with equal formality. I found his composure unsettling at first, but as I observed him over time, I realized the man never spoke to anyone beyond exchanging greetings like “Good morning,” “Good day,” or “Good evening.” The same thing I noticed, Aogasa also noticed. And then he said to Chīsagama.

“What’s with you spouting out nothing but formal greetings without missing a beat? It’s like you’ve decided flies on your forehead must be swatted away—you’re insufferably loud about it! A craftsman’s hands wield chisels—it’s not like your shoulder bones have stretched out from swatting every last fly. A person’s mouth has a hole to discern necessity, but for morning and evening greetings, sticking out your tongue or letting out a fart would suffice.” Hearing this, I found myself somehow taking a liking to Aogasa’s blunt way of speaking.

Since the three craftsmen had all gathered, they were formally summoned before the Lord and their current assignment was delivered. They had heard it was to create a personal Buddha statue for Lady Yonaga, but the details had not yet been disclosed. The Lord looked at Lady Yonaga beside him and said: “We would have you carve the august form of the noble Buddha who safeguards our Lady’s present life and hereafter.” “It is to be enshrined in the private Buddhist hall for Lady Yonaga to worship morning and evening—we require both Mihotoke’s sacred form and a pedestal to house it.” “Mihotoke is Miroku Bosatsu.” “The rest I leave to your individual ingenuity, but you must complete it by Lady Yonaga’s sixteenth New Year.”

When the three craftsmen formally accepted the commission and completed their greetings, food and drink were brought in. The Lord and Lady were seated on a raised platform at the front, while to their left were placed the three craftsmen’s dining trays, and to their right, three more trays. There were still no figures visible there, but I assumed they must be seats for Anamaro and two other prominent individuals. However, those whom Anamaro had led in were two women. The Lord introduced the two women to us and spoke thus.

“Cross the high mountain ahead, cross the lake beyond that, cross the vast field beyond that again, and there stands a tall mountain made solely of stone and rock.” “If you cross that mountain weeping, there lies another vast field, and beyond that, a mountain shrouded in deep mist.” “If you cross that mountain weeping, there lies a vast and sprawling forest through which a great river flows.” “If you pass through that forest while weeping for three days, you’ll find a village where thousands of springs gush forth.” “In that village—so they say—by every spring under every tree’s shade sat a girl weaving cloth.” “The most beautiful girl wove cloth by the fairest spring under the grandest tree in that village—and this young one here is that very girl.” “Before this daughter took up weaving, her mother wove there—and that mother is this aged woman here.” “From that village they crossed a rainbow bridge and journeyed far to Hida’s depths to weave garments for our Lady.” “The mother is called Tsukimachi; the daughter Enako.” “To whoever carves a Buddha statue that pleases Lady—to him I shall present fair Enako as reward.”

They were beautiful slaves who wove cloth, purchased by the Lord who had lavished gold. In the land of Hida where I was born, there are those who come from other countries to buy slaves—male slaves—and craftsmen like me get bought as slaves too. However, since those who come from distant lands to purchase them do so out of unavoidable necessity, slaves are treated with great care and receive hospitality equal to that of first-class guests—but this lasts only until their work is completed. Once their work is done and they’ve outlived their use, since they’re slaves bought with gold, it’s the master’s prerogative to give them to people or toss them to pythons. Therefore, no craftsmen would willingly be sold off to distant lands, but for women, this would be all the more true.

"Poor women," I thought. But the Lord’s words—that whoever crafted a Buddha statue to Lady Yonaga’s liking would receive Enako as a reward—left me utterly shocked.

I had no intention of creating a Buddha statue that would please Lady. When told my face resembled a horse's, I had fled frantically into the mountains and lingered by the waterfall basin until nearly sunset—there I had resolved to pour my soul into crafting not a Buddha statue but a terrifying horse-faced monster. Thus, the Lord's decree that Enako would be given as reward to whoever pleased Lady with their Buddha statue struck me with shock. I felt intense anger. Moreover, realizing this woman would never be mine, scorn surged within me.

To suppress those distractions, I resolved to fully embody Takumi’s spirit. I thought that this was the time to put into practice the craftsman’s mindset Master had instilled in me.

At that moment, I stared at Enako. Even if a giant snake were to bite my leg—I vowed to myself—I wouldn’t take my eyes off her.

“So this woman—who crossed mountains, crossed lakes, crossed fields, crossed mountains again, crossed fields again, crossed yet more mountains, crossed vast forests—is the cloth-weaving woman from the village of gushing springs?” “That’s a rare creature.” My eyes remained fixed on Enako’s face—but my focus wasn’t single-minded. Because in suppressing my shock and anger, scorn had taken root instead—and I could do nothing to restrain it.

I was aware that directing this scorn at Enako was unjust—but if I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, then the scorn dwelling in my gaze could do nothing but fix itself upon her face. Enako noticed my gaze. Gradually, Enako’s complexion changed. I thought I’d made a mistake, but seeing the flames of hatred blazing in Enako’s eyes, I too suddenly burned with hatred. Enako and I forgot everything else, glaring at each other with nothing but hatred.

Enako’s stern eyes shifted slightly. Enako wore a smile brimming with dark intent and said: “In my homeland, they say there are more horses than people—but horses are ridden to run across fields and used to plow soil.” “In your country, horses wear robes and grasp chisels in their hands to build temples and carve Buddha statues, I see.”

I shot back immediately. “In my country, women plow the fields, but since horses do that in yours, seems women weave cloth instead of horses.” “Our horses grasp chisels and work as carpenters—they don’t weave cloth.” “At best, I’ll have you weave some.” “Quite the hardship you’ve endured coming all this way.” Enako’s eyes snapped open. She rose quietly. With a slight eye-bow to the Lord, she marched straight toward me. Stopping, she looked down. Of course, my eyes never left her face.

Enako half-circled around the side of the meal trays and moved behind me. And then, she softly pinched my ear. "Is that all?!—" "Is that all?!—" I thought. In the end, I concluded it was your loss for looking away first. That was the moment. I was struck by a blow that seared my ear. The instant I realized I had lurched forward and plunged my hands into the dishes was the same instant I heard the crowd's murmurs echoing deep in my ears.

I turned around and looked at Enako. Enako’s right hand had drawn the dagger from its scabbard and gripped it, but that hand now hung quietly downward, not a trace of killing intent visible. Enako’s left hand hung suspended in midair with clumsy purposefulness, as if occupied by some task. I suddenly realized what was being pinched between those fingers. I turned my head and looked at my left shoulder. I had vaguely sensed something amiss there—the entire shoulder was drenched in blood. Blood dripped onto the collar too. As if remembering some long-forgotten thing, I noticed the pain in my ear.

“This is one of your horse ears.” “As for the other one—hack it off with your axe and at least make it resemble a human ear.”

Enako dropped the severed upper part of my ear into my sake cup and left.

★

Six days had passed since then.

We were each to build our own huts in a section of the estate and seclude ourselves there to work, so I too had gone to cut down trees from the mountain and began constructing my hut.

I chose a place behind the storehouse where people wouldn’t intrude and decided to build my hut there. The area was a tangled thicket of weeds, a den for snakes and spiders—a place people shunned in fearful avoidance.

“I see. “If you were to build a stable, this spot would be first—but isn’t the sunlight a bit lacking?” Anamaro sauntered into view and teased. “Horses are highly sensitive—they can’t focus on their work when people approach.” “Once I’ve finished building the hut and begun my work, I must ask that you refrain from entering the workspace entirely.” I had to devise double-layered high windows and install special mechanisms at the entrance to ensure no one could peer into my workspace. My work had to remain secret until it was completed.

“Now then, Horse Ears.” “The Lord and Lady Yonaga have summoned you. Take your axe and follow me.” Anamaro said this. “Is just the axe enough?” “Yeah.” “Are they ordering me to cut down garden trees or something?” “Using an axe is indeed part of a craftsman’s work, but a woodworker and a craftsman are different things.” “If it’s just about chopping wood, there are others better suited.” “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t distract me with trivial matters.”

Grumbling under my breath, I took up the axe and approached, whereupon Anamaro studied me up and down with a peculiar gaze before— “Alright, sit down.” He said this and, starting with himself, sat down on a piece of cut lumber. I also sat down facing him. “Horse Ears, listen well. Your determination to measure your skills against Aogasa and Chīsagama is commendable, but I doubt you’d want to work in a place like this.” “What reason?!”

“Hmm. Think carefully.” “Having your ear sliced off must’ve hurt.” “Compared to the ear canal, the flap seemed rather unnecessary. But after mixing chopped poison-neutralizing leaves—good for stanching blood—with pine resin and applying it, not only did the pain vanish cleanly, but it even serves decently as an ear now.” “Staying here won’t bring you anything good from now on.” “Losing just an ear would be lucky—something fatal might occur.” “I’m not deceiving you.” “Flee home right now, just as you are.” “Here’s a sack of gold.” “Even if you toiled three years finishing a magnificent Maitreya statue, you’d never obtain such an immense amount of gold.” “I’ll make sure matters are properly reported to the superiors. Leave now—while you still can.”

Anamaro’s face was unexpectedly serious. “Do you want to drive me out this badly?” “Am I such an unnecessary craftsman that you’d offer gold surpassing three years’ wages just to cast me aside?” As these thoughts came, anger welled up within me. I shouted. “Is that so? “In your esteemed opinion, my hands aren’t those of a craftsman wielding chisels and planes, but some woodcutter’s arms hacking trees with an axe—is that your judgment?” “Very well.” “I cease being your employed craftsman as of today.” “But let me keep working in this hut.” “I’ll feed myself—no provisions needed, not a single coin required.” “There should be no objection to me laboring here freely 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 you’re telling me to leave with just an axe, then I suppose there’s no other way to think about it.” “Right.” “That’s what I mean.”

Anamaro placed his hands on both my shoulders and stared at me with peculiar earnestness. Then he spoke.

“My wording was poor.” “The order to ‘come along with just an axe’ came from the lord himself.” “But telling you to flee this place now without bringing an axe—that’s my own advice.” “No—it’s not just me. The lord himself secretly wishes for this too.” “That’s why he entrusted me with this bag of gold and instructed me to let you escape.” “And I say this because if you were to appear before the lord with an axe alongside me, something terrible would happen to you.” “The lord has your best interests at heart.”

The cryptic words irritated me all the more.

“If you’re truly concerned for my well-being, then speak your reasons plainly.” “I’d tell you if I could, but some words can’t be spoken without consequences once uttered.” “But as I’ve been saying—this might cost you your life.” I made up my mind on the spot. I stood up with the axe slung at my side.

“I’ll accompany you.” “Here.”

“Ha ha ha. Don’t mock me. With all due respect, we craftsmen of Hida have been hammered since brat-hood to stake our lives on our work. I’ve no mind to throw my life away except through craftsmanship—but if forced to choose between that and being called a coward who fled from skill-testing, I’ll take the former, wouldn’t you agree?” “You’ve got the makings of a master craftsman sung across the realm—if you live long enough. But youth still grips you. A moment’s shame gets scrubbed clean by longevity.”

“Enough with the unnecessary talk already.” “From the moment I came here, I’d given up on returning alive.”

Anamaro relented. Then he abruptly turned cold. “Follow me.”

He took the lead and strode resolutely ahead.

★

He was led to the inner garden. A straw mat had been spread across the earthen ground before the veranda. That was my seat. Enako sat facing me. Restrained with her hands behind her back, she sat directly on the bare earth.

Hearing my footsteps, Enako raised her head. And if the restraints were removed, she glared at me like a dog about to pounce and didn’t take her eyes off me. You insolent little wretch, I thought. "If I, who’d had my ear severed, were to hate the woman, that would make sense—but her hating me? That made no sense at all."

As I thought this, I suddenly realized that since the pain in my ear had subsided, I hadn’t once recalled this woman.

When I thought about it, it was strange. For a hot-tempered fool like me not to curse the woman who'd sliced off my ear—how peculiar that was. Though I'd often pondered having my ear severed by someone, I'd scarcely ever considered that this woman had been the one to do it. What baffled me more was how that damned wretch glared at me with hatred fit for a blood enemy. Every ounce of my malice had been poured into carving this vengeful god—likely why I'd spared no thought for some insolent slip of a girl. At fifteen, a fellow apprentice had pushed me from a roof, shattering my limbs. He'd nursed some petty grudge over trifles. With bones broken, I couldn't work carpentry for three months—yet my master forbade even a day's rest. There I sat, chiseling transom panels with one working hand and leg. The agony of fractures keeps men awake through endless nights. Through tear-blurred eyes I'd swing my chisel, discovering that weeping through daylight labor proved more bearable than weeping through sleepless torment. By the full moon's grace I sometimes rose at midnight to carve—writhed and sobbed when pain overwhelmed me—once even stabbed my own thigh when my hand slipped. Never before had I understood so keenly how work alone could rise above suffering. That transom carved with half my limbs—when later inspected with hands restored—required not a single correction.

Because that experience had seared itself into me, the pain of having an ear severed merely became fuel for my work. I thought, I’ll make you realize it someday. And though I shuddered as I conjured up ever more terrifying visages of malevolent deities, it seems I never once considered that the one I’d make realize this would be this woman. “There’s some sense to why I don’t curse her, but her hating me like a sworn enemy makes no sense at all.” “Perhaps when the Lord said that sort of thing, she started thinking I desire her and began cursing me.”

As I thought this, it began to make sense. There, a seething anger welled up within me. You stupid woman! Do you think I work because I want you? Even if ordered to take her back, I’d simply brush her off like a caterpillar fallen on my shoulder and cast her aside. Having thought this through, my mind settled.

“I have brought Mimio.”

Anamaro shouted loudly toward the room. Then movement stirred beyond the bamboo screen, and the seated Lord spoke.

“Is Anamaro present?”

“I am here.” “Relay the verdict to Mimio.”

“Understood.” Anamaro glared at me and delivered the following verdict. “If word were to spread that our household’s slave girl severed one of Mimio’s ears, we could offer no justification to either the craftsmen of Hida or the people of Hida province.” “Therefore, Enako shall be executed by death; however, since Mimio is the aggrieved party, he shall behead her with his own axe.” “Mimio, strike.” Hearing this, I thought it made sense that Enako glared at me like a sworn enemy. Once this suspicion is cleared, I’ll have nothing left to worry about. I told them.

“I deeply appreciate your kindness, but that will not be necessary.”

“You refuse to strike?” I straightened up briskly. I grabbed the axe and stomped forward, shot a glare right into Enako’s face, and stared her down menacingly.

When I moved behind Enako, I pressed the axe against the ropes and chopped through them with dull thuds. And then, I hurried back to my original seat. I deliberately said nothing. Anamaro said with a laugh. “Do you want Enako’s living neck more than her dead one?” When I heard this, blood rushed to my face. “Nonsense! To a mere insect of a weaver woman, Hida’s Mimio doesn’t give a single damn. If you think I’ve just been bitten on the ear by some bug from the eastern forests, doesn’t that make it perfectly reasonable not to get angry? I don’t want that insect’s dead head or living head either.”

I had shouted these things, but my face turning crimson and sweat gushing forth all at once betrayed my heart. My face had flushed red and sweat had poured forth—this was not due to any ulterior motive of desiring this woman’s living head. Though I couldn’t fathom any 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 harbored some ulterior motive to claim her as my own. And what a fool you are. Even if ordered to take you back, I thought I’d simply brush you off like a caterpillar fallen on my shoulder and leave.

Hearing Anamaro unexpectedly voice the very thing I’d long feared—the nuisance of being suspected of harboring nonexistent ulterior motives—left me caught off guard and utterly flustered. Once I became flustered, it was always the same pattern—ashamed of it, brooding over it, my face would burn ever hotter, and sweat would gush forth like a waterfall.

"This is troublesome. What a shame. If I end up drenched in sweat and panicking like this, it’ll only make it seem like I’m openly admitting that my ulterior motives are exactly as suspected." Thinking this, I grew even more flustered. Beads of sweat plopped down from my forehead, showing no sign of ever stopping. I resigned myself and closed my eyes. For me, this blushing and sweat were formidable enemies I couldn’t properly resist. Closing my eyes in resignation and immersing myself in an emptied mind was the only way to stem the downpour of sweat.

At that moment, Lady Yonaga’s voice reached my ears.

“Raise the bamboo screen.” She commanded. There were probably maidservants present, but I kept my eyes closed and refrained from checking. To stem the downpour of sweat as soon as possible, I must not look even at what I wished to see. I wanted to gaze upon Lady’s face properly one more time.

“Mimio.” “Open your eyes.” “And answer my question.” “Mimio,” she commanded. I reluctantly opened my eyes. The bamboo screen had been rolled up, and Lady stood on the veranda. “You say that even after Enako sliced off your ear, it felt like being bitten by an insect?” “Is that truly so?” I thought it was an innocent, bright smile. I nodded vigorously, “It really is true,” I answered. “You mustn’t later say it was a lie.”

“I wouldn’t say such a thing. Because I think of her as a mere insect—whether her head’s dead or alive is utterly worthless.”

Lady Yonaga smiled and nodded.

Lady Yonaga said to Enako. “Enako, “Go ahead and bite Mimio’s other ear.” “Since he says being bitten by an insect doesn’t anger him, you should give him a good bite.” “I’ll lend you the insect’s fangs.” “It’s one of my dear departed mother’s mementos, but after you’ve bitten Mimio’s ear, I’ll give it to you.”

Lady Yonaga took the dagger and handed it to her maidservant. The maidservant reverently offered it and held it out before Enako.

I had never imagined Enako would actually accept it. Instead of using an axe to behead me, it was the dagger that had severed the binding rope and then sliced off my ear.

However, Enako accepted it. Admittedly, if it was a dagger from Lady Yonaga, she couldn’t refuse—but I thought surely she wouldn’t draw it from its sheath.

The lovely Lady was innocently enjoying her mischief. Her bright smile was something to behold. This was what they called a smile so innocent it wouldn’t harm a fly. There was neither the exhilaration of enjoying mischief nor any shadow of scheming. It was a smile that embodied the very essence of a young girl.

I thought this. The question was whether Enako could use her cunning words to return the dagger she’d accepted back to Lady. If she could devise words clever enough to secure the dagger outright, it would be all the more compelling. And if I could then counter with a matching quip of my own, nothing could surpass that. Lady would surely lower the bamboo screen in satisfaction.

That I had thought such things seemed strange to me in hindsight—for Lady Yonaga had given Enako the dagger and ordered her to slice off my ear, and when tracing back the root cause of my losing one ear, did it not originate from Lady herself? And my resolve to carve a terrifying demon god statue had been for Lady’s sake too—the first person who ought to be shocked by that statue would undoubtedly be Lady herself. That she had commanded Enako to sever my ear with a dagger while I idly considered it a blissful moment of play—when I reflected on this, it felt truly strange indeed. Was it due to Lady’s radiant smile and her round, clear eyes? I felt as though dreaming yet undeniably awake to this strangeness.

Because I thought Enako wouldn’t draw the dagger from its sheath, I fixed that conviction in my gaze and stared transfixed at Lady’s smiling face. Looking back, this was above all a fatal oversight—a lapse in vigilance. By the time I sensed the ferocious aura and turned my eyes, Enako was already stomping right up to me. Damn it! I thought. Enako drew the dagger from its sheath before my very nose and seized the tip of my ear. I forgot everything else and looked at Lady. There had to be words from Lady. Words Lady would give Enako. From that radiant, crystalline smile of a young girl should have naturally sprung a commanding voice—the cry of a crane.

I stared blankly at Lady’s face. Her clear, innocent smile. Her round, crystal-clear eyes. And I fell into a daze. Even as this unfolded, I knew full well that my ear was being sliced off step by step, yet my eyes remained fixed on Lady’s face—powerless to act—and my mind was wholly consumed by the daze that clouded my vision. Even after having my ear sliced off, I continued to gaze dimly up at Lady.

When my ear was severed, I saw Lady Yonaga's round eyes come alive - growing large and vivid with crystalline clarity. A faint flush rose to Lady Yonaga's cheeks. A fleeting satisfaction appeared, then vanished instantly. Then the laughter too vanished. Her face became terribly serious. Her face also bore a contemplative expression. "What? Is this all?" Lady Yonaga seemed angry. Then, turning around, Lady Yonaga left without saying a word.

When Lady Yonaga was about to leave, I noticed that one by one, large teardrops had pooled in my eyes.

★

The three full years that followed were the history of my battles.

I was merely holed up in my hut wielding my chisel, but the force with which I swung that chisel was continually driven by the image of Lady’s smile lingering in my eyes. I had to fight desperately to push it back.

That I had been naturally captivated by Lady seemed like a battle I couldn’t win no matter how I struggled, but I felt compelled by any means necessary to push it back and create a terrifying specter statue.

When a faltering heart arose within me, I came up with dousing myself in water. I doused myself ten times, twenty times—until my mind grew distant. Then, inspired by sesame-burning rituals, I smoked pine resin. I burned the calluses on my soles with fire. All this was to shake awake my spirit and attack my work like a rabid beast.

The area around my hut was a damp thicket crawling with countless snakes—their den—so they slithered inside without restraint, but I tore them open and drank their fresh blood. Then I hung the snake carcasses from the ceiling. I willed their vengeful spirits to possess me and seep into my work.

Whenever my heart faltered, I would venture into the thicket to catch snakes, tear them open to squeeze out their fresh blood, gulp it down in one breath, and drip the remainder onto the half-formed monstrosity statue. Since I was catching seven, sometimes ten snakes a day, the snakes in the thicket around my hut had been wiped out before summer’s end. I entered the mountains and caught a bag of snakes each day. The hut’s ceiling became completely filled with hanging snake corpses. Maggots swarmed, a thick stench hung heavy, they swayed in the wind, and when winter came, they rustled and creaked in the wind.

When visions of the hanging snakes all lunging at me arose, I instead felt strength surge through me. For the vengeful spirits of snakes had taken root within me—I felt reborn as their serpentine incarnation. And without this transformation, I could never have continued my work. I lacked confidence to craft a specter powerful enough to repel Lady’s smile. My own strength alone proved inadequate—this truth had seared itself into me. In my struggle’s torment, I nearly wished madness would claim me. I even entreated that my heart might become a vengeful spirit haunting Lady herself. Yet whenever my chisel touched the statue’s vital point, I’d find my trembling hands still subdued by her smile’s lingering force.

When the third spring arrived, as my statue stood seventy percent finished and I approached the critical final touches, I found myself ravenous for fresh snake blood. I ventured deep into the mountains, caught rabbits, raccoon dogs, and deer, ripped open their chests to squeeze out fresh blood, and scattered their entrails. I cut off their necks and dripped their blood onto the statue. “Drink blood. And by Lady Yonaga’s sixteenth New Year, take life into yourself and become a living thing. Become a demon that kills people and drinks their fresh blood.”

It was the face of some long-eared entity—whether specter, demon god, death god, oni, or vengeful spirit—whose true nature even I could not discern. I would have been satisfied had it merely been a terrifying thing imbued with enough power to repel Lady’s smile.

In mid-autumn, Chīsagama finished his work. By late autumn, Aogasa too had completed his work. When winter came, I finally finished creating the statue. However, I had not yet begun work on the pedestal that would enclose it. I decided the pedestal's shape and patterns must be limited to cute designs befitting Lady's furnishings. To accentuate the statue's ferocity when the door opened, it had to be framed in an utterly delicate style.

During the few short days remaining, I threw myself into the pedestal, often forgetting to eat or sleep. And so, taking until the very last moment of New Year’s Eve night, I managed to finish it somehow. I couldn’t manage elaborate carvings, but on the doors I lightly adorned them with flowers and birds. It was neither luxurious nor ornate, but I thought that in its simplicity, it rather exuded elegance. Late at night, I borrowed some hands to move it out and lined up my piece beside Chīsagama and Aogasa’s works. At any rate, I was satisfied. I returned to my hut, pulled the fur over my head, and sank into sleep as though being dragged down into the earth's depths.

★

I woke to the sound of knocking on the door. Dawn had broken. The sun was already quite high. I see. Today was Lady’s sixteenth New Year, I suddenly realized. The knocking at the door continued relentlessly. Because I thought it was the maid who had brought food, “Shut up!” “Just leave it outside quietly like you always do.” “I ain’t got no New Year or New Year’s Day.” “After three years, you still don’t get that this place ain’t part of the outside world—even though I’ve told you till my mouth went dry?”

“When you wake up, open the door.” “Don’t act so knowing.” “The time I open the door ain’t when I’ve just woken up.”

“Then when will you open it?” “When there’s no one outside.” “Is that really true?” When I heard that—catching the distinctive cadence of Lady’s voice I could never forget—I knew instinctively that none but Lady herself stood beyond my door. All at once my whole body froze solid with terror. Not knowing what else to do, I paced uselessly about my hut, wasting precious moments in futile circles.

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

A quiet voice said this. I had sensed that Lady Yonaga had ordered her maids to pile something outside the door, but at the sound of flint striking steel, I intuitively knew it was dried brushwood. I dashed to the doorway as though snapped by a spring, removed the latch, and threw open the door. As the door swung wide—letting in a gust of wind—Lady Yonaga entered the hut smiling brightly. She passed before me and took the lead in stepping inside. In those three years, Lady Yonaga’s body had transformed beyond recognition into adulthood. Her face too had matured, yet her innocent smile alone remained unchanged—as clear and childlike as it had been three years prior.

The maids recoiled at the sight inside the hut. Only Lady showed no sign of recoiling. Lady looked around the room with apparent curiosity, then surveyed the ceiling. The snakes hung as countless bones while below lay fallen fragments of countless others. “They’re all snakes,” she said with childlike wonder. Vivid fascination glowed through Lady’s smile. She stretched upward toward one of the bleached serpent bones dangling overhead. The skeletal remnant crumbled onto her shoulder. She brushed it away absently without glancing at what had fallen. Each object seemed too novel for sustained attention—her gaze danced restlessly between curiosities.

“Who thought up such a thing? “Are all Hida’s Takumi craftsmen’s workshops like this? “Or is this only your workshop?” “Probably just my hut.” Lady Yonaga did not nod, but soon her smile began to gleam with satisfaction. Three years ago, the face of Lady Yonaga that I had last seen had suddenly grown serious and taut with boredom—but in my hut, her smile never ceased.

“Good thing I didn’t light the fire, huh? If I’d burned it down, I wouldn’t have been able to see this, you know.” After taking in everything, Lady Yonaga muttered with satisfaction—but then declared: “Now you may burn it down.” She had her maids pile dried brushwood and set it ablaze. Once she saw the hut engulfed in smoke and erupting into a roaring blaze all at once, Lady Yonaga turned to me: “Thank you for this rare Maitreya statue. Compared to the other two, I like this one a hundredfold—no, a thousandfold more.” “I wish to grant you Gohōbi—go change into these robes.”

It was a bright and innocent smile. Leaving that in my eyes, Lady Yonaga departed. I was led by the maidservants to bathe and changed into the clothes Lady Yonaga had provided. And I was led to the inner chamber. Due to terror, I had been distracted since the bath. I thought that I was finally going to be killed by Lady Yonaga. I had come to fully understand the true nature of Lady Yonaga’s innocent smile. It was this smile that had watched Enako slice off my ear, and this same smile that had observed the countless snakes dangling from my hut's ceiling. It was this smile that had ordered Enako to cut off my ear, and it was undoubtedly this same smile that desired to see Enako’s neck severed by my axe when the decree was issued.

At that time, Anamaro had urged me to flee this place quickly, and the Lord had privately expressed his wish for me to escape from here—those words now struck me as precisely correct. Against this smile, even the Lord must have had no means to act. It was no wonder, I thought.

This smile—which had set fire to a corner of my home without a hint of hesitation on the New Year’s Day people celebrate—would neither fear hellfire nor quail before the Pool of Blood. As for the monster I had created—it must be akin to a plaything from when this smile belonged to a child of seven or eight. “Thank you for the rare Miroku statue. Compared to the others, I liked this one a hundredfold—no, a thousandfold more!”

Recalling Lady Yonaga’s words, I shuddered at their horror. What terrifying power could that monster I created possibly hold? Not an ounce of true force that could freeze the human heart to its core dwelled within it. What was truly terrifying was this smile. This smile alone must be the one truly dreadful thing that even living demon gods and vengeful spirits could never hope to rival. It was only now that I finally grasped the true nature of this smile, but during my three years of labor—striving to create something fearsome while perpetually being eclipsed by Lady Yonaga’s smile—perhaps some part of my heart had sensed it all along without understanding. If one sought to forge something truly terrifying, then being overshadowed by Lady Yonaga’s smile would be inevitable. For nothing more truly terrifying than this smile could exist.

As a final memento of this life, I thought I wanted to carve this smile into permanence before being killed. For me, there remained no doubt that Lady would kill me. And today—after being led to the inner chamber upon emerging from the bath—she would surely kill me in haste. I imagined she might tear me apart like a snake and hang me upside down. At this thought, terror nearly stole my breath, and I instinctively clasped my hands in desperate prayer—but even if I truly wailed and prayed until my palms fused, that smile would never deign to accept anything.

To escape this fate, I concluded there was after all only one way. That also fit with my desperate wish as a craftsman. Anyway, I thought I'd try asking Lady Yonaga. And once I had resolved myself in this way, I was finally able to get out of the bath. I was led to the inner chamber. The Lord appeared with Lady Yonaga in tow. Too impatient for greetings, I pressed my forehead to the floor and desperately shouted. I did not have the strength to lift my face.

“This is my final request in this life.” “Please allow me to carve Your Ladyship’s face and form.” “If I may carve and preserve that, then whenever death comes after, I shall have no regrets.”

To my surprise,the Lord's response came swiftly and without hesitation. "If HIME consents to that,nothing could be more welcome." "HIME." "HIME-do you have any objections?" The words with which HIME replied were succinct-and equally astonishing.

“I was just about to ask Mimio to do that myself.” “If Mimio desires it, I have no objections whatsoever.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The Lord was so overjoyed that he inadvertently shouted loudly but then addressed me gently. “Mimio, “Raise your head.” “You’ve endured much these three years.” “Your Miroku may be an ironic creation but its carving vigor shows no common handiwork.” “Since Lady Yonaga seems exceptionally pleased with it I’ve nothing more to add beyond satisfaction.” “Well done.”

The Lord and Lady Yonaga gave me numerous ceremonial gifts. At that moment, the Lord added and said.

“I promised to give Enako to whoever created a statue that pleased Lady Yonaga, but since Enako has died, it’s regrettable I cannot fulfill this particular promise.” Then Lady Yonaga took up the thread of conversation. “Enako had stabbed herself in the throat with the very dagger she used to cut off Mimio’s ear.” “The bloodstained kimono Enako wore is what Mimio has now made into undergarments clinging to his skin.” “I had it remade into men’s clothing so you could wear it as a substitute.”

I had already stopped being shocked by such things, but the Lord's face had paled. Lady Yonaga was beaming as she stared at me.

★

Around that time, the epidemic had spread even to these mountain depths; in that village and this hamlet alike, there was no end to those dying. The epidemic had finally swept into this village as well, so every household posted talismans to ward off plague, kept their doors tightly shut even in broad daylight, and gathered their families to pray day and night to the gods and Buddhas—but the devil must have been slipping through some crack or another, for each day saw more people dying than the last.

Even at the Lord’s mansion, with its vast estate, the family kept the storm shutters closed and held their breath throughout the day—but in Lady Yonaga’s chamber alone, she refused to let them lower the shutters.

“The monster statue Mimio created—the one he carved while drenched in fresh blood and curses after ripping apart countless snakes and hanging them upside down—seems to serve well enough as a talisman against epidemics.” “Since this monster doesn’t seem to serve any other purpose, go ahead and display it outside the gate.”

Lady Yonaga ordered people to place it with a heavy thud before the gate.

The Lord’s mansion had a tall tower. Lady Yonaga would occasionally climb the tall tower to gaze at the village, but whenever she saw people carrying corpses to discard in the woods on the village outskirts, she appeared satisfied for the day.

I was in the hut Aogasa had abandoned, pouring my entire soul this time into carving Lady’s personal Maitreya statue. To imprint Lady’s smile upon the Buddha’s face—that became my guiding principle.

Within this mansion, only Lady and I moved with anything resembling human vitality. Though Lady appeared superficially satisfied when hearing I was carving her personal Buddhist statue with her smile reflected on Maitreya’s face, she showed no genuine interest in my work. She never once came to inspect my progress. Her visits to the hut occurred exclusively when she spotted corpse-bearers heading for the woods. This wasn’t some special attention reserved for me—her true pleasure lay in systematically informing every last soul in the mansion whenever deaths occurred.

“There’s been another death today.” Even when delivering this news, she was beaming with delight. Nor did she ever come to check on the Buddha statue’s progress. She never so much as glanced at it. And she never stayed long.

I began to suspect Lady Yonaga was toying with me. Though she maintained an air of nonchalance, I often thought she must have been planning to kill me on New Year's Day. Because when Lady Yonaga had the monster I created placed before the gate as an epidemic ward,

“Since this monster was carved by Mimio—who slaughtered countless snakes, hung them upside down, drenched himself in their fresh blood while imbuing it with curses—it should at least serve as an epidemic talisman.” “Since it doesn’t seem to have any other use, go ahead and display it before the gate.” It’s said she declared. When I heard about this through others, I couldn’t help but freeze. That she had seen through even how I’d carved it with curses—that Lady Yonaga kept me alive despite knowing this—filled me with terror. What truly terrified me were the unfathomable depths of Lady’s intentions—how she had selected my work from those of the three craftsmen only to declare with derisive laughter that it seemed fit for nothing beyond being used as an epidemic talisman. On that New Year’s Day when they bestowed ceremonial gifts upon me, even the Lord paled at Lady’s words. The true depths of Lady’s intentions must have been beyond even her father the Lord’s comprehension. Until Lady Yonaga chose to act, her heart would remain an enigma no one could unravel. Even if killing me wasn’t her current aim, that intent might have existed on New Year’s Day—or might yet come tomorrow. That Lady Yonaga had taken some interest in me meant it would be no wonder if she killed me at any moment.

My Maitreya seemed to have finally drawn near to capturing Lady’s innocent smile. Round eyes. A nose swelling with dewy fullness as though cradling pearls at its tip. Yet such facial contours demanded no particular technical skill. What I had to wrestle with my entire soul was the secret behind that guileless smile. A smile innocent and bright, utterly unclouded. Not a single thread of bloodlust could be discerned there. No hue nor scent hinting at demonic communion revealed itself. It was simply that an innocent girl’s smile comprised everything—utterly artless, with no secrets concealed anywhere. That was the secret of Lady’s smile.

"There might be something more than form emanating from Lady Yonaga's face." They say her body has shone with a golden scent since birth from being bathed in dew pressed from gold—yet sometimes common eyes pierce secrets with startling clarity. This invisible scent veiling Lady's face—my chisel alone must carve it out." I dwelled on such thoughts. When I imagined this guileless smile might be the face that kills me someday, that very fear became the central pillar of my work. There were moments when, pausing mid-stroke, I'd realize this fear had seeped so deeply into my heart with nostalgic urgency that clutching it tighter could never be enough.

Lady Yonaga appeared at my hut,

“People died again today.” When she said this, I had nothing to say and could only stare fixedly at Lady’s smiling face.

I did not want to inquire about Lady's true intentions. Mundane concerns were futile. If Lady harbored any true intentions at all, her innocent smile and its scent comprised everything. At least for Takumi this was everything, and for my current existence too, this must be all there was. Three years prior, from the moment I became transfixed by Lady's face, it had been as though everything was preordained.

Apparently, the Pestilence God had passed through. One-fifth of this village had died. Despite the Lord’s mansion housing a great number of people, not a single person had fallen ill—and so the monster I had created suddenly became an object of worship among the villagers.

The Lord was the first to drive it in.

“Since this monster was crafted by Mimio—who ripped apart countless snakes alive, hung them upside down, and drenched himself in their fresh blood while imbuing it with curses—even the Pestilence God cannot approach due to its terror.”

He parroted Lady Yonaga’s words and proclaimed them.

The monster was carried down from the gate of the Lord’s mansion atop the mountain and enshrined within a hastily constructed small shrine at the three-way crossroads by the pond’s edge below. No small number of people came from distant villages to worship. And though I was swiftly hailed as a master craftsman, it was Lady Yonaga who claimed even greater renown. That the monster wrought by my hands had been completed in time to protect the Lord’s household was also attributed to Lady Yonaga’s power. They said a noble god dwelled within Lady Yonaga’s living flesh. The rumor that she embodied a divine incarnation spread instantly through every village.

Among those who came to worship my monster at the small shrine below the mountain, there were those who came to prostrate themselves in worship at the gate of the Lord’s mountain-top mansion before leaving, and others who left offerings at the gate. Lady showed me the turnips and leafy greens offered as tribute, saying: “This is what you’ve received—cook them well and eat up.”

Lady’s face was beaming radiantly. I saw that Lady had come to mock me and frowned in irritation. And I answered: “Many Hida craftsmen have created renowned Buddha statues, but I’ve never heard of any receiving offerings.” “Since these are clearly offerings for the living god, please cook them well and partake.” Lady’s smile did not respond to my words. Lady said: “Mimio.” “The monster you created truly glared back at the Pestilence God for me.” “I’ve been watching it every day from up in the tower.”

I stared at Lady Yonaga’s smile in astonishment. However, Lady Yonaga’s heart was ultimately impossible to gauge.

Lady Yonaga further said. “Mimio.” “Even if you had gone up to the tower and seen the same things as I did, you wouldn’t have been able to witness your monster glaring back at the Pestilence God for you.” “Because ever since your hut burned down, your eyes have gone blind.” “And the Maitreya you’re crafting now doesn’t even have the power to ease an old man’s or woman’s headaches.” Lady Yonaga stared sharply at me. And then she turned around and left. In my hands remained turnips and leafy greens.

I felt as though I had been ensnared by Lady’s magic. I thought she was a terrifying Lady. I thought she might indeed be a Lady transcending human power. However, what did it mean that the Maitreya I was crafting now didn’t even possess the power to ease old people’s headaches? “That monster doesn’t even have the power to make children cry, but Maitreya must possess something. At least the soul of this human called me must have been fully transferred into it.”

I thought I could declare this with conviction, but what shook and crumbled the very foundation of that conviction was Lady’s smile. It seemed as though what I had lost surely existed somewhere—yet rootless, I was suddenly overwhelmed by an unbearable ache of longing.

★

Before fifty days had even passed since the Pestilence God’s departure, a different epidemic swept through villages and towns. Summer came, and the scorching midday sun persisted day after day. Once again, people spent their days closing the rain shutters against the blazing sun and praying to gods and buddhas. But since they hadn’t cultivated their fields during the Pestilence God’s reign, if they didn’t till them now too, their food supplies would be exhausted. So the farmers went trembling into the fields, swinging their hoes up and down—yet though they set out vigorous each morning, many would writhe in agony under the midday sun, crawl about the soil awhile, then collapse lifeless.

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

“O Noble God of Lady Yonaga,

“Expel this evil disease.”

There were also those who came to the Lord’s gate and prayed in this manner.

The Lord’s mansion too once again closed its rain shutters against the midday sun, and people lived suppressing their breath. Lady alone kept her rain shutters open, occasionally gazing down at the village below from her tower. Each time she spotted a corpse, she would walk through the mansion ensuring all within heard of it. Lady came to my hut and said.

“Mimio.” “Do you think I saw something today?” Lady’s eyes seemed deeper than usual. She said: “I saw an old woman come to worship at that monster shrine—writhe in agony before it, cling to it, and die there.” I retorted.

“Couldn’t even that monster of yours glare back at this Pestilence God?”

Lady Yonaga ignored this and calmly issued her command.

“Mimio. “Fetch snakes from the back mountain.” “Fill a large bag to the brim.”

She had issued this command, but when ordered by Lady I had no choice but comply. I could only move silently according to her will. Not even a doubt about what she meant to do with those snakes arose until after she had left.

I ventured into the back mountain and captured numerous snakes. Last year around this time, and the year before that as well, I had caught snakes in this mountain and felt nostalgic for it—but at that moment, I suddenly realized. Last year around this time, and the year before that as well, I had wandered this mountain catching snakes—all while desperately struggling to rouse my faltering heart, crushed beneath the weight of Lady Yonaga’s smile. When crushed beneath the weight of Lady’s smile, my half-finished monster had looked gutless. Every mark of the chisel appeared utterly useless. And I had continued to fear that even if I drank dry every drop of fresh blood from this mountain’s snakes, it still might not be enough for the courage to properly reassess that gutless monster to well up within me.

Compared to those days，I was no longer crushed beneath Lady’s smile—or rather，even if still pressed by its weight，there existed no anxious struggle needing resistance．I merely dwelled within art’s essential trance，where my chisel needed only surrender to faithfully render that smiling force． In my then-unguarded sincerity，I ceaselessly lamented my ineptitude before the unfinished Maitreya—yet never endured such brazen despair as when that monster seemed gutless．Every chisel stroke carving its form—crushed beneath Lady’s smile—had appeared utterly futile．

At any rate, I now found peace of mind and wrestled sincerely with my art, so I had thought there was no difference between last year's me and this year's me—but suddenly it occurred to me that I must have changed quite significantly. And I thought that this year's me stood above in all respects.

I returned with a large bag stuffed full of snakes. At the size of the bulge, Lady Yonaga’s eyes shone innocently. Lady said.

“Take the bag and come to the tower.”

I climbed to the tower. Lady Yonaga pointed below and said.

“At Mitsumata Pond’s edge, there’s the monster’s small shrine, you see?” “You can see the figures of people clinging to the shrine and dying there, can’t you?” “Ah, the old woman.” “Just when you’d think she’d reached that spot and prayed a little, she suddenly stood up and began to writhe and spin.” “Then she staggered about crawling, and just when you’d think she’d finally managed to reach the shrine, she stopped moving altogether.”

Lady Yonaga's eyes remained fixed there, unmoving. Furthermore, she turned her gaze to various parts of the world below and continued gazing insatiably. And then she muttered: "There are so many people working in the fields." "During the epidemic, you never saw anyone out in the fields." "And yet while some come to worship at the monster's shrine only to die there, these field workers remain unharmed." I had been holed up in my hut engrossed in work alone, with almost no contact even within the estate—let alone dealings beyond it. So even when I occasionally heard terrifying rumors of epidemics ravaging villages, they struck me as occurrences from another world—never piercing me with visceral realization. Even hearing that my monster had been enshrined as a talisman god and that I was being praised as a master craftsman—those too remained occurrences from another world.

I gazed at the village from the high tower for the first time. It was merely a view that shortened the distance from overlooking the village from the back mountain, but seeing figures of people clinging to the monster’s small shrine in death—even as a detached spectacle unrelated to myself—the wretchedness of human settlement stung my eyes. It’s perfectly clear such a monster couldn’t possibly serve as a talisman, yet people dying while clinging to that shrine—what a sinful affair. I thought it would be better to just burn it all down. A hollow feeling seized me, as though I were committing a crime.

Lady Yonaga fixated her gaze on the view of the world below, then turned around. And then, she commanded me.

“Tear apart each snake in the bag alive, squeeze out their blood, and hand it over to me. “What did you do with the blood after squeezing it?” “I caught it in a cup and drank it.” “As many as ten? Even twenty?” “I can’t drink that much at once—if I didn’t want it, I’d just dump it around here.”

“And then you hung the snakes you tore apart from the ceiling, didn’t you?” “That’s right.”

“Do the same thing you did for me.” “I will drink the fresh blood myself. Hurry up.”

I had no choice but to obey Lady Yonaga’s commands. I carried up cups to catch fresh blood and tools for hanging snakes from the ceiling, tore open each serpent in the bag one by one to squeeze out their fresh blood, and hung them from the ceiling in sequence.

I had thought it impossible, but Lady Yonaga—without a trace of hesitation—smiled innocently and drank down the fresh blood in one gulp. Until I saw that, I hadn’t thought it such a significant matter—but from that moment on, the sheer terror was such that even my hands, so accustomed to tearing snakes, began to falter. For three years I too had torn apart countless snakes, drunk their fresh blood, and hung their corpses upside down from the ceiling—but since these were actions I performed myself, I never found them frightening or unnatural.

Lady Yonaga drank the fresh snake blood and hung the snake bodies upside down in the tower—what could she possibly be planning to do? Regardless of whether her aims were good or evil, Lady Yonaga—who climbed the tower and drank down the fresh snake blood without a hint of hesitation, smiling all the while—was too innocent, too terrifying.

Lady Yonaga drank down the fresh blood of up to the third snake in one gulp. From the fourth one onward, she scattered them across the roof and floor. When I finished tearing apart and hanging all the snakes in the bag, Lady Yonaga said. “Go to the mountains once more and fill the bag with snakes for me now.” “While the sun is up—as many times as needed now.” “Until this ceiling is full—today, tomorrow, and the day after.” “Hurry up.” When I went snake hunting just once more, the day had already turned to dusk. A shadow of resentment seemed to fall across Lady Yonaga’s smiling face. Lady Yonaga’s smile remained fixed for some time, gazing up at the high tower’s ceiling—at the hung snakes and the empty spaces between them—with an air of satisfaction yet simmering resentment.

“Tomorrow, set out early in the morning.” “As many times as needed.” “And bring back plenty for me.”

Lady Yonaga looked down at the twilight-shrouded village with lingering reluctance. And then she said to me: “Look. To clean up the old woman’s corpse, people are gathering in front of the small shrine. There are so many people...”

Lady Yonaga’s smile grew more radiant. “During funerals, it was always just two or three people gloomily carrying corpses at most, but this time the people are still so lively.” “I want all the villagers I can see to writhe in agony and die.” “Next, the people I can’t see too.” “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—everyone—to die.”

I froze as if doused with cold water and found myself unable to move. Because Lady Yonaga’s voice was crystal-clear and quiet yet brimming with innocence, it struck me as all the more utterly terrifying. The reason Lady Yonaga drank the fresh snake blood and hung the snake corpses in the tower was that she was praying for all the villagers to die. While I wanted to bolt away in desperation, my legs remained frozen and my heart froze as well. I had never once thought I hated Lady 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 awoke completely. Lady’s commands had seeped into my very being, my mind so bound that I awoke precisely at the appointed hour. I could not bear the weight of my heart, yet shouldering the bag, I could not help but plunge into the mountains where dawn had yet to break. And when I plunged into the mountains, I was desperate to catch snakes. I was frantic to do it as quickly as possible and gather as many as possible. The single-minded desire to fulfill Lady’s expectations drove me relentlessly.

When I returned carrying a large bag, Lady Yonaga was waiting in the tower. When I finished hanging all of them, Lady Yonaga’s face shone, “It’s still much too early.” “The people have only just begun heading out to the fields.” “Today, go catch them over and over again.” “Hurry—put your whole soul into it.”

I silently gripped the empty bag and hurried into the mountains. I had not spoken a single word to Lady since this morning. I had lacked the strength to speak to Lady. Before long, the tower’s ceiling would undoubtedly be filled with hanging snake corpses, but when I thought about what would happen then, I felt so tormented I could hardly bear it. What Lady was doing seemed nothing more than an imitation of what I had done in my workshop, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it was that simple. What I had done was driven by a small, unavoidable necessity, but what Lady was doing was something no human could conceive. She was merely imitating my hut because she happened to see it—if she hadn’t seen my hut, she’d be imitating something else to commit equally horrifying acts.

Moreover, even such things were likely merely the beginning for Lady. As for what Lady would conceive and what she would perform in her lifetime hereafter—such things lay far beyond what mortal minds could fathom. I could not help but keenly realize that Lady was far beyond my ability to handle, and that my chisel could never hope to capture her essence.

"Indeed. Just as Lady said—this Maitreya I'm making now was nothing but a paltry little human. Lady seemed as vast as this blue sky."

I thought I had seen something far too terrifying. Having seen such a thing, I could not help but lament—what could possibly sustain me to continue my work from now on? When I returned carrying the second bag, Lady Yonaga’s cheeks and eyes were ablaze with radiance as she welcomed me. Lady Yonaga smiled sweetly at me and let out a small cry.

“Wonderful!” Lady Yonaga pointed and said.

“Look, there’s one person dead in that field over there, don’t you see?” “Just now.” “The moment he raised his hoe high into the air, he dropped it and began that twisting dance of his.” “And the moment that person stopped moving, look—another one has collapsed in that field over there, don’t you see?” “That person began their twisting dance, you see.” “And yet, until just a moment ago, they were crawling and squirming about.”

Lady Yonaga’s eyes remained fixed there. Perhaps she still expected it to squirm again. As I listened to her words, sweat started oozing from my skin. A great surge—neither fear nor sorrow—welled up inside me, leaving me at a loss. A lump clogged my chest, and I could do nothing but gasp breathlessly.

At that moment, Lady Yonaga's piercing voice called out to me.

“Mimio. “Look!” “There, look!” “There’s someone starting to do the twisting dance, you see.” “Look, they’re doing that twisting dance, you see.” “As if dazzled by the sun.” “As if sun-drunk.” I ran up to the railing and looked where Lady was pointing. In the field right below the Lord’s mansion, a farmer spread his arms wide and staggered beneath the sky, swaying unsteadily like someone swimming through air. As if a scarecrow had grown legs, he traced small circles with angular steps that bent left and right. He collapsed suddenly and began crawling. I closed my eyes and stepped back. My face, chest, and back were soaked with sweat.

“Lady will slaughter every last person in the village.” I had become firmly convinced of this. By the time I finished hanging snake corpses across the tower’s ceiling, the village’s final inhabitant would undoubtedly have drawn their last breath.

When I looked up at the ceiling—for this was a windblown tower—dozens of snake corpses swayed in slow unison, and through the gaps between them, I saw a beautiful blue sky. In my tightly sealed hut, I’d never seen anything like this—yet that even these dangling snake corpses could look so beautiful made me think: What could this mean? This was no affair of the human world, I thought.

I thought I had no choice but to choose one of two options—either my own hands would cut down the snake corpses I’d hanged upside down, or I would flee this place. I gripped my chisel. And yet, I still wavered over which path to choose. At that moment, I heard Lady Yonaga’s voice.

“They’ve finally stopped moving. How utterly adorable.” “The sun—how enviable.” “In all the fields, villages, and towns across Japan—the sun must be watching everyone die like this, mustn’t it?” As I listened to this, my mind shifted. I thought that if I didn’t kill this Lady, the shoddy human world wouldn’t endure.

Lady Yonaga stared blankly at the fields. She might have been seeking another twisting dance. What an exquisite Lady she is, I thought. Once my resolve hardened, I found myself acting without a trace of hesitation. Rather, it felt as though some tremendous force were driving me forward. I stepped toward Lady Yonaga, laid my left hand upon her shoulder, pulled her close in an embrace, and plunged the chisel in my right hand into her chest. Though my shoulders heaved with ragged breaths, Lady Yonaga opened her eyes and smiled beatifically.

“You should bid farewell first before killing me, you see.” “I too bid farewell, yet you went and pierced my chest.”

Lady Yonaga’s innocent-seeming eyes kept smiling at me ceaselessly. I thought what Lady Yonaga said was true. I too had wanted to exchange farewells; I had intended to at least shout a word of apology before stabbing Lady Yonaga, but in my agitation, I ended up stabbing her before I could say anything. What could I possibly say now? Unbidden tears overflowed from my eyes.

Then Lady Yonaga took my hand and whispered with a sweet smile.

“What one loves must either be cursed, killed, or fought against, you see. That’s why your Maitreya was worthless, and that’s precisely why your monster was splendid, you see. Always hanging snakes from the ceiling, and now doing such splendid work as killing me...” Lady’s eyes smiled and closed.

Still holding Lady, I lost consciousness and collapsed.