Pathway to Japanese Literature

Ah, May—when first our ship was blessed with journey's fortune.

I Staff                                50 yen Sedge hat                            330 yen Bentō trunk                            55 yen Luggage trunk (Ohizuru)        300 yen Neck pouch                            80 yen Bell                                250 yen Prayer beads                            250 yen Amulet box                            50 yen Amulet                            20 yen Sutra-stamping book                            100 yen Gaiters                            150 yen White vestments                            450 yen

White vestments                            450 yen All of the above pilgrim attire and implements were things we were able to procure at Asano Buddhist Goods Store before Ryōzenji Temple—the first pilgrimage site in Shikoku’s Awa Province.

The previous afternoon, the moment we disembarked from the Akitsumaru—which we had boarded in Kobe—at Komatsushima, we spotted an advertisement in that steamship terminal’s waiting room… It was through this that we came to know of the existence of Asano Buddhist Goods Store—that unexpectedly resourceful establishment. That is to say, we naturally came to understand that if we simply went there, all pilgrim attire would be readily available—straightforwardly and without delay.

In other words,

“You’ll be fine.” ……There had been nothing to worry about…… With that, I turned to look at my traveling companion, Ikeda Yoshinosuke. “That’s how it is…” “I’m relieved… now that this is settled…” And Ikeda Yoshinosuke—who since our departure from Tokyo had done nothing but agonize over how to procure them—now quite honestly and unreservedly relaxed his lips into a smile. Yet afterward, the notices posted near that advertisement—from the Komatsushima Security Department, Komatsushima Police Substation, and Kansai Steamship Co., Ltd., addressed to passengers—delighted us even more greatly.

Why? "Please refrain from participating in fraudulent gambling onboard." "Not only will you absolutely not win—it will also result in criminal charges..."

because we had found that particular passage within them.

“Not only will you absolutely not win…” Truth be told, I couldn’t have stated it so bluntly myself… Ah, splendid Shikoku… I whispered secretly to myself.

II

That evening, we checked into an inn called Seifūsō along the banks of the Shinmachi River flowing through Tokushima City, and gathered various informative accounts about Tokushima from Mr. Matsumoto and Mr. Fukushima of the Tokushima News along with local historian Mr. Hayashi Korō—but prior to this, "I am from Bungeishunjū Shinsha—"

With that, Ikeda-kun introduced himself while presenting his business card to Mr. Hayashi.

And—

“Are you Mr. Ikeda Yoshinosuke?”

Upon seeing this, Mr. Hayashi suddenly let out a voice tinged with surprise. “Huh?… Haa…”

Ike da-kun looked momentarily bewildered. And blinked his large eyes rapidly. “Speaking of Ike da Yo shi no suke—you were one of the key members when Sudō Sadanori first launched his political agitation plays...”

“When it comes to Ikeda Yoshinosuke, you know, he was one of the key members when Sudō Sadanori first launched his political agitation plays...” said Mr. Hayashi. “Was that so?” I echoed back, though truthfully that name had left no trace in my memory. “I’m familiar with names like Yokota Kinma and Kasai Eijirō, but...” “He was among them,” he replied. “...At first he went by Yoshizō, but later changed it to Yoshinosuke.” “This is absurd,” Ikeda protested, clutching his head. “My name is...”

With that, Ikeda-kun clutched his head. “This and that… I’m always being turned into some sort of fish…”

But thanks to Yoshinosuke, I gained new knowledge about Sudō Sadanori. …That is to say, we were able to hear in detail from Mr. Hayashi about how in December of Meiji 21 (1888), Sudō Sadanori—a native of Okayama Prefecture—formed an organization called the “Great Japan Patriotic Reform Theater Association,” secured support from figures like Nakae Chōmin, launched it at Osaka’s Shinmachi-za Theater, then toured regions from Kinki to Kyushu only to meet with repeated failures until finally reaching Tokushima—where he instigated an assault incident resulting in over a month’s detention by police. ……When I returned, I thought, I must immediately relay this to Yanagihara Ryūji—author of Sixty Years of Shingeki.

Even so, Mr. Hayashi’s eloquence in storytelling gave me the feeling that he himself had once been among their ranks. Given that there was no more than a year or two’s difference in age between Mr. Hayashi and myself, such a thing should have been impossible—and yet, so vividly did all those figures dance upon his tongue. ……There, I discovered a case where the fantasy behind a certain method of “research” could be made reality with utmost ease.

Moreover, it seems the Ikeda Yoshinosuke of old was a female-role actor.……The present Ikeda Yoshinosuke—who had embarked on this pilgrimage with me—was a University of Tokyo graduate and scholar specializing in early modern German history.

However, Sudō had died in January of Meiji 40 at age forty-two. If that were the case, then at the time of Shinmachi-za’s founding—when he was only twenty-three even as their leader—the troupe members must have been younger still. Given that he was a female-role actor, the former Ikeda Yoshinosuke must necessarily have been seven or eight years younger at that time than the present Ikeda Yoshinosuke was now.……Moreover, this present Ikeda Yoshinosuke—a fair-faced, pure-hearted youth sporting a respectable butterfly tie—no sooner had he clad himself in pilgrim’s garb than…

“Well now—you, a student on pilgrimage…” At Muroto Misaki, passing girls whispered about him… This was a story from three days after that…

III

The next day—though we should have refrained… Pilgrims do not lie; I truly came to think so afterward… Along the way, we saw trifling sights—Yoshino River Bridge here, the ruins of Awa Jūrōbei’s residence there, whirlpools coiling around Naruto off Ōge Island… No, that phrasing rings hollow—having been shown these things and made to take unexpected detours, by the time we reached Ryōzenji Temple, our crucial destination, sunlight already slanting westward dyed the sagging eaves of two or three pilgrim lodges lining the gatefront—pale and forlorn—as if chasing spring’s lingering departure.

The moment I passed through the great gate guarded by Niō statues, I understood: calling this place “Shikoku’s First Numbered Temple” felt inadequate—the term “sacred site” resonated deeper, carrying a weight of solemnity no ordinal could convey. Within the spacious temple grounds, the air of years upon years lay cold and damp. There was a bell tower, a Tahōtō pagoda, and facing front, the main hall—reached by stone steps at a fitting height—bore a plaque inscribed “Jakkōden,” beneath which hung a pale yellow curtain emblazoned with a circled swastika.

Was it how that pale yellow hue faded, or how it aged? Either way—in its fading, in its aging—I sensed a world I had never known until now... ...the sorrow of this Buddhist realm I had never known... I bought incense and lit it myself. Smoke flowed from my hand.

Having completed my worship, I descended the stone steps. Ikeda-kun’s figure was nowhere to be seen.

Hey, where could you have gone, Ikeda-kun?…

I asked and looked around. “Well…” Neither Mr. Matsumoto nor Mr. Fukushima—who had also come today to take my photos—knew either. In any case, we decided to exit through the temple gate and return to where the car was waiting. ……And lo—before we had gone far, there he was, spotted at the raised entranceway of a shop: wide-fronted, desolate, its purpose unguessable at first glance—perched solemnly upright……

—Ikeda-kun…

And there I stood, brought to an involuntary halt.

—Sensei… With that, Ikeda-kun immediately stood up.

“Here it is, here it is…” With that, he pointed inside the shop.

That is to say, this shop was the "Asano Buddhist Goods Store" that had been advertised in the waiting room of Komatsushima’s steamship terminal. And so, the moment we arrived at Ryōzenji Temple, while I wandered about the grounds—pausing before the Tahōtō pagoda or gazing up at the bell tower—Ikeda-kun had already located the shop and dutifully ordered two full sets of pilgrim’s attire along with all necessary implements. However, since we couldn’t possibly change into them there immediately, we decided to bundle everything together and take it back to our lodgings. While they prepared the packages, I—holding one of our newly acquired items, the sutra-stamping book—entered through the temple gate once more with Ikeda-kun. This was to have the seal stamped on its pages at the sutra office as proof of our visit.

The sutra office was located on the path that branched right immediately after entering the temple gate. A fiftyish old monk—likely the abbot—with an unkempt beard stood by. At the second page—the first having been left untouched—he placed our proffered sutra book, Dedicated Sutra: Principal Image Shakyamuni Buddha, Ryōzenji Temple

wrote and stamped a bold seal for us. ……The first page upon opening, it seemed, was being reserved for when we would go to Kōyasan.……As a handling fee, we each paid ten yen—twenty yen in total. The second numbered temple, Gokurakuji, was in the same Itano District of Itano Town—I heard it was about ten chō from there—but based on information I had heard the previous night, I expressed my desire to visit Kokubunji Temple in Myōdō District’s Kōfu Village, the fifteenth numbered temple which, despite lacking any particular historical significance, was said to be greatly dilapidated now, and had the car take us in that direction.

Passing through several towns, skirting villages, through wheat fields beginning to tinge with yellow—we spent over an hour traversing those wheat fields. ... This was partly because we had lingered too long at Ryōzenji Temple, and by the time we reached our destination, a faint evening dusk had already suffused Kokubunji’s temple gate, bell tower, main hall, and other small structures—quiet as water, serene as mist. Moreover, not a single glimmer of lamplight yet shone anywhere.

I stood there amidst it all, fixing my gaze upon the plaque hanging in the main hall... With effort, I could make out the characters: "Ryūriden." _I understood._ "...This way..."

Then Ikeda-kun, who had gone to search for the sutra office, returned and said. “Where?” And I followed after Ikeda-kun. But where Ikeda-kun led me was not to the sutra office, but before a room facing a wide garden—what was likely the abbot’s living quarters. And without a doubt, that person was the abbot—a gentle-browed, serene-cheeked old monk of sixty-one or sixty-two—who, “Come now... Come now, please...” He amiably brought floor cushions to the veranda for us.

IV The 1934 Ministry of Railways-compiled *Japan Guide: Shikoku Edition* states about this temple: “Founded during the Nara period as Kokubunji Temple, it was destroyed by wartime fires in the Tenshō era but rebuilt in the first year of Kampō.” “The temple grounds preserve foundation stones from its heyday.” So it is written.… Those very foundation stones I discovered not far from the veranda where I had settled myself. I had been informed by Mr. Fukushima. But for me, rather than paying attention to those partial—and indeed unimaginably ancient—stone indentations left by pillars of a distant era, the garden’s entirety—

—Indeed, this is rundown…

Though I sighed deeply at the sight, I also sensed how those trees and branches must have been arranged with such care in days past—their every gesture once praised for that very "wabi-sabi" elegance. [...] Far more piercing to the heart was observing this sorrow: a dignity ingrained to the marrow, refusing to fade even as twilight tenderly enveloped it—already fallen into tonight's tranquil slumber.

Before long, the abbot— Dedicated Sutra; Principal Deity Yakushi Nyorai; Kokubunji Temple Having received the sutra-stamping book inscribed as such, we took our leave and exited through the nearest back gate. There too lay another expanse of wheat fields—and above them in the sky hung the light of a crescent moon… —What do you make of that?… I found myself involuntarily halting. Just then, somewhere, a dog was barking incessantly.

V

Can there really be such disparity within the same pilgrimage site?…

And then—on the afternoon following our visit to Kokubunji Temple—after passing through the cherry-tree-lined approach of Yakuōji Temple (the twenty-third pilgrimage site) in Kaifu District’s Hiwasa Town, threading beneath its Niō Gate, and climbing the thirty-three steps of Women’s Calamity Slope and forty-nine steps of Men’s Calamity Slope—eighty-two stone steps in total—I found myself murmuring involuntarily. Even just the paving stones of the cherry-tree-lined avenue revealed the temple grounds’ entire orderly layout and facilities. ……To put it another way—rather than there being an “ema hall” at the top of Women’s Calamity Slope, it would be more accurate to say that the space between Women’s Calamity Slope and Men’s Calamity Slope had become the ema hall, or perhaps that this gap had been ingeniously arranged as the ema hall. At this construction plan—which permitted not a single wasted gap—I found myself considerably impressed. Moreover, this immediately extended to managerial aspects—for instance, stone steps carved with women’s calamitous thirty-third year and men’s forty-ninth year were created, and through these, methods for “evil-year purification prayers” such as the following came to be devised.

“First, they obtain new sandals and proceed to the base of the calamity slope (Men’s Calamity Slope for men, Women’s Calamity Slope for women), put on the sandals, ascend while offering coins at each stone step, and upon reaching the top, remove them.” At the base of Calamity Slope’s stone steps, they enshrine one thousand copies of the Yakushi Hongan-kyō Sutra—one character per stone—possessing efficacy to ward off calamities for both men and women. Next, they take the pestle from the mortar for powdered incense in the ema hall and pound it the number of times corresponding to their age. Next, they visit the various halls, then strike the gong placed before Zuikyūtō Pagoda as many times as one’s age. “Furthermore, at the main hall, they dedicate the evil-dispelling ten thousand lights and receive the evil-dispelling talisman; then, at the temple office, they must apply for the evil-dispelling prayer.”

This prayer service—I had thought it was held once a year, but apparently that was not the case; it seemed to be conducted frequently during the first, fifth, ninth, and twelfth months of the old calendar. Not only that—the *Yakuōji Guide* booklet showed—in addition to these, they had arranged to hold some event every month without fail: a Nirvana Ceremony in February, a Shōgoeiku Ceremony in March, a Flower Festival for Śākyamuni in April, a Great Prajñāpāramitā Assembly in May, a Kōbō Daishi Birth Celebration in June, and an Urabon Festival in July. And indeed, these events demonstrated how prosperous this temple had become—take for instance the First Assembly Ceremony on the twelfth day of the old New Year, which drew tens of thousands of visitors, filling Hiwasa Port with vessels large and small under fluttering banners and flags—truly making it “the foremost grand market in southern Tokushima Prefecture,” as recorded in the *Yakuōji Guide*. This must indeed be true. I took it at face value.... This temple had burned down in Meiji 31 (1898) and been rebuilt in Meiji 41 (1908). The newness of the container had naturally renewed its contents, and with the Osaka Hygiene Laboratory having proven the radium content in the “spiritual water” that had welled up near the temple, they had even witnessed the founding of Hiwasa Mineral Springs Co., Ltd. Now then—if I were to appear in this temple precinct as a pilgrim, staff in one hand and bell in the other, would that be a tragedy or a comedy? With these thoughts lingering, standing atop the eighty-two stone steps I had climbed, I cast my gaze upon Hiwasa Bay floating in the evening sun—the bright, crisp towns of Hiwasa, yet within them a distant view where “indigo” and “green” blended in perfect measure.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Just then, Ikeda-kun returned from the sutra office. “Is Yakushi Nyorai also the principal deity here?” Opening the sutra-stamping book I had received from Ikeda-kun, I said— “Yes, it’s the same as Kokubunji Temple.”

And Ikeda-kun answered.

—Ah, Kokubunji... …Crescent moonlight…

And once more, I murmured quietly to myself.

VI

We departed Hiwasa at 4:50 PM…

When we passed through Mugi, Yasaka Yahama, and Shishikui and arrived at Kōnoura, the sun had completely set. The reason for this became clear—coincidentally, it was near the bus company’s garage where the last buses bound for Tokushima and Muroto Misaki converged, and even without that, the narrow road had grown narrower still, leaving our car unable to move. And then, at that moment, the fishing village scenery—where rows of pachinko parlors spilled their evening lamplight toward the dark sea—came into our view. ……I felt a touch of travel melancholy.

After about ten minutes, the car started moving. Kōnoura… None… Sakihama…

The car simply... persistently, simply... plunged through the darkness as it raced onward.

We who rode along could not make out at all where we were being carried through, or what sort of place it was. We could not even tell whether we were indeed heading correctly toward Muroto Misaki.

For that very reason, whenever we occasionally encountered the headlights of lumber-laden trucks barreling toward us through the darkness, we felt inexplicably relieved. But even then, once they had passed, that was all there was. After that, it was once again the primal darkness where not even irises could be discerned. And then, in the distance, one or two lights began to appear.

“That’s the town of Muroto Misaki… those lights…” said the driver. But those lights soon disappeared. They were fishing fires out at sea.

But those lights soon disappeared. They were fishing fires out at sea. “To be honest, I’ve only driven this road once before.” “…And it being a night road and all, I’m rather…”

And the driver confessed. In that case, the anxiety did not belong to us alone. The driver, too, was one who wanted his share of it. I had already entrusted my fate to heaven and closed my eyes. Suddenly a wind surged violently through the trees. What I had mistaken for [...] was in fact a chorus of frogs spreading across the paddies.

Oh... Ah... I, Ikeda-kun, and the driver all continued our silence.

Thus, we arrived at Muroto Misaki’s Misaki Hotel at 10:00 PM. The Kochi News people had apparently come since evening while it was still light out and were waiting… However, I was immediately permitted to bathe. It was a cast-iron tub heated from below.

Muroto Misaki suffered from water shortages; a notice instructed guests to conserve water and avoid using towels in the bathtub. When I emerged from the bath and entered the tatami room, an array of dishes had already spread across the large dining table. The vivid crimson of an enormous spiny lobster seared into my vision. Come to think of it, we had eaten breakfast in Tokushima before departing and hadn't consumed even half a slice of bread since then.

It’s remarkable we managed to endure that. And so, once again, I greeted the Kochi News people—Mr. Matsuda and Mr. Hamada.

In that case, well—

The fire moths are gone—2 AM at Misaki Hotel.

There would be nothing strange in it having come to this……

VII

What follows are two or three pages from my notebook...

May 17th, 10:00 AM. Having clad ourselves in pilgrim's attire, we departed Misaki Hotel and made for Hotsumisakiji Temple, the Twenty-Fourth Sacred Site...

The sky: slightly cloudy; the wind: utterly absent; the sea of Cape Muroto: utterly calm, shining vainly ash-white—no wonder at all. (Two verses) Rocks cluster and cluster in ceaseless throngs—a mild summer’s warmth. Balmy breeze—a single immense rock. Having reached that rock, we opened our lunchbox. Neither morning nor noon… (Two verses) Balmy breeze—staff and sedge hat left by the rock. Mild summer’s warmth—udo simmered in the lunchbox. The beach lily has yet to bloom; by yellow irises, a butterfly flutters quietly. (Two verses)

The beach lily remains unbloomed—yet the wind carries its fragrance. In this town—yellow irises thirsting for water. In Awa, the wheat had only just begun to yellow; in Tosa, it already burned vivid gold. Where expectations falter—there alone does wheat reach harvest time. Awa lingered in late spring, Tosa in early summer… Late spring, early summer—still persisted fields of Chinese milk vetch.

Mr. Hayashi from Tokushima spoke of Sudō Sadanori and made fantasy a reality. By donning pilgrim's attire, I transformed reality into fantasy... Of the pilgrim's attire we had prepared at Asano Buddhist Goods Store, only the hand guards hadn't been ready in time; these were easily sewn for us at our Tokushima inn. The tabi socks were purchased for us at Misaki Hotel at Muroto Misaki. However, as for straw sandals—there were none sold anywhere. Reluctantly we resorted to fastened sandals; it seems most pilgrims these days wear rubber-soled tabi...

When leaving home, I had instructed that a new hand towel be placed in my bag. This was because I had reasoned that should we become proper pilgrims, even when wearing sedge hats, using regular towels would prove inadequate. At Misaki Hotel, having gotten ready, I then took out that hand towel from my bag. “Ah!” I let out an involuntary cry. Because that hand towel was one that rakugo performer Saraku had distributed at his retirement ceremony. No, if that were all, it would be nothing special—but whether he distributed those towels or not, he had abruptly retired, not just from the stage but from this world itself.

Precisely because I had no connection with him during his lifetime—never having met him even once—it felt strange. ……Once I returned, I would immediately tell his beloved disciple Bunraku about this.

Hotsumisakiji Temple, also known as "Tō-ji," stood atop a mountain. Tree roots and rocky edges—climbing them, we ascended over forty-five minutes. The staff and the fastened sandals—how useful they must have been. Having donned our pilgrim’s attire—this was by no means in vain…

Under the Niō Gate, a small cat was crying. I went immediately to its side and picked it up. ……For the first time since crossing over to Shikoku, I thought of home.

Pilgrim and cat.

If I were a painter, I would paint this…

This temple, to put it simply, was rustic. And modest.

But Abbot Shimada Nobuyasu was around forty and still young; besides his temple duties, he served roles such as vice-chairman of the tourism association, chairman of the child welfare council, and probation officer. To bring this temple—said to have been in such disrepair that it seemed beyond saving—to at least its current settled state must have required considerable effort. I should have asked more about that...

□ Nobe Manju. ...thumb-sized and rare for their stone-like coating...

Eight Earlier, at Ryōzenji Temple’s sutra-stamping office, I bought a book titled *Seiseki o Shitau* (Longing for Sacred Sites) the moment it caught my eye, without much thought. Having bought it without much thought, I read it without much thought either… And upon reading it, I felt ashamed of my own ignorance—why hadn’t I known about such a fine book sooner? *Seiseki o Shitau*—that is, a work providing a detailed account of over seventy days in Meiji 39 (1906), when the author, then twenty-eight years old, undertook a pilgrimage to the eighty-eight sacred sites of Shikoku alongside a senior whom he revered as an elder brother. But I shall write of this later. For now, first and foremost, following what is indicated in the essay titled *“The Significance of Pilgrimage”* appended to its main text, I shall answer your fundamental question: *“What is pilgrimage?”*

“When we speak of *junrei*, it refers to worshippers of Kannon undertaking the Saigoku Thirty-three Sacred Sites; when we speak of *henro*, it denotes pilgrims venerating Kōbō Daishi along the Shikoku Eighty-eight Temples.” “In Buddhism today, these two have become the most prominent groups among the masses of practitioners undertaking pilgrimages.” Beginning with this statement, the article listed the following five points regarding the religious significance of *junrei* and *henro*. 1. Returning to nature. 2. To always abide with Buddha.

3. To devote oneself thoroughly to human love. 4. To rid oneself of physical and mental afflictions. 5. To experience the significance of religious life.

All of these points become understandable if explained—or even without explanation—but regarding particularly “2. To abide with Buddha,” through the explication of *dōgyō ninin* (“two traveling together”), invariably inscribed on pilgrims’ sedge hats, and the verse *“Deluded, one dwells in the triple-world fortress; awakened, the ten directions are void. Originally there is no east or west—where could north or south exist?”* I was able to receive living knowledge springing from the author’s very soul. In order to convey the author’s literary style as well, I shall excerpt that passage here.

“Pilgrims of Shikoku and Saigoku abide daily with Buddha.” The fact that “two traveling together” is inscribed on their sedge hats serves as evidence of this. They receive sutra-stamping at each sacred site, place those principal images into their pilgrim’s pack, and carry them on their backs—this signifies Buddha abiding together with us. “Deluded, one dwells in the triple-world fortress; awakened, the ten directions are void. Originally there is no east or west—where could north or south exist?” These phrases inscribed on sedge hats and vajra staffs serve as a warning: realize that by transcending the human world’s delusions—where one suffers over gains and losses—and abiding in Buddha’s realm to attain joy unhindered in all directions, you free yourself from all social evils and dwell in a world where every day is auspicious.

We are already children of Buddha who abide with Buddha; people too are children of Buddha who abide with Buddha; thus, the companions who journey together are human and yet Buddha. The pilgrims approaching from afar are also Buddha in human form. Therefore, they regard all people encountered along the way as Buddha and always join their hands in worship. To their companions who journey together, they too join their hands morning and evening and worship one another. Here, both people and we escape from yesterday’s streets of struggle and, like bodhisattvas and holy beings, stroll serenely; thus we manifest the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss before our very eyes.

By day they chanted mantras while traversing mountains and rivers; entering villages to recite hymns and receive hospitality; visiting each sacred site as though returning to their parents’ home, worshiping the principal image with religious ecstasy. Come evening at their lodgings, they first purified in clean water the vajra staff that had steadied them on steep paths and guided them all day—pressing it reverently to their foreheads as Buddha’s feet before placing it in a corner. Regarding the sedge hat as a canopy bestowed by Buddha to shelter them, they carefully set it beside the staff. Retrieving their sutra-stamping book from their pack to settle it upon the floor, they earnestly gave thanks for the day’s divine protection, chanted sutras to their heart’s content to temper their innate souls, and entered samadhi where Buddha and self become one.

While attending Tokyo Philosophy Hall—where he joined Sakaino Kōyō and Takashima Beihō’s New Buddhist Fellowship and studied the socialist thought then gaining momentum—the author also entered Masaoka Shiki’s school to devote himself to waka and haiku. In Meiji 36 (1903), at twenty-five, he became abbot of his hometown temple. Yet he found himself utterly dissatisfied with the “temple life” enmeshed in old conventions’ spiderwebs layered tenfold, twentyfold—so much so that he resolved even to renounce his priesthood. Aware of the author’s anguish, a senior from his hometown recommended a pilgrimage to Shikoku’s sacred sites, and together they continued their journey for over seventy days across hundreds of miles of mountains and rivers. And during that time, he sometimes met a man who had abandoned his home and family to become a pilgrim himself while searching for his father—a pilgrim who had vanished without trace; sometimes heard the desperate voice of a mother praying to Buddha all night long on the veranda of the Daishi Hall, chanting the sacred mantra “Namu Daishi Henjō Kongō” amid howling mountain winds for her two unfortunate children showing signs of leprosy; and sometimes encountered on the road an aged pilgrim—hair fallen out, face swollen, one eye gone, nose shapeless—only to be so startled by his ugliness that he tried to avert his face and pass by, whereupon that pilgrim would join his palms reverently before the author, chant the mantra, and begin bowing fervently. The author, unexpectedly struck by his sincerity, immediately knelt before that pilgrim, pressed his palms together in prayer, chanted “Namu Daishi Henjō Kongō” in unison, and shed tears he could not wipe away.

Thus were the author’s eyes of faith opened. ...Gradually he forgot all matters of home and society; beyond seeking each day’s sustenance and lodging, he came to think solely of the Daishi’s benevolence. “...They say one must become as an infant to seek faith—and indeed, my own mind had begun to detach from worldly affairs, growing so clear that not a single mote of dust remained; that pleasure was beyond all telling. That these many days spent detached from worldly concerns, traversing hundreds of miles while single-mindedly contemplating the Daishi’s benevolence and savoring profound religious significance through pilgrimage to sacred sites had been bequeathed to us was truly a precious expedient means for practitioners.”

Thus teaches the author. That this author—Wada Fukatoku—was none other than Venerable Wada Seikai, the former administrator of Kōyasan, was something I, of course, did not yet know at the time.

Nine

The idealization of reality must not be prolonged. ...having thought this, I boarded a car at the foot of Hotsumisakiji Temple headed straight for Kochi, and inside that automobile, I removed my gaiters, took off my arm covers, shed my white vestments, and changed into Western clothes. Therefore, over three hours later, when we entered Kochi and arrived at Chikurinji Temple—the thirty-first sacred site in Godaisan Village, Nagaoka District—I was not using my vajra staff.

However, that was for the best. I managed to avoid having ill thoughts about the conventions. ...such was Chikurinji Temple—perched atop Mount Godai, whose height surpassed Tokyo’s Atagoyama by seven or eightfold. Moreover, a fully paved automobile road accompanied it, so even the largest tour buses could park nonchalantly right up to the temple gate. As for the modest automobile we rode in... Yet we showed not a trace of surprise, even offering smiles as we passed through the temple gate.... The mountain air—thick with towering trees, somehow shadowed, damp, and chill—abruptly enveloped us.

Long ago, Emperor Shōmu dreamed he encountered Manjusri Bodhisattva at Mount Wutai in Tang China. Summoning Monk Gyōki, he commanded: "Determine whether there exists within our realm a sacred site resembling Mount Wutai. Should there be one, construct a temple complex modeled upon that mountain." To this, Gyōki responded:

"This humble monk, having traveled widely to spread teachings across the provinces, found in Tosa’s Nagaoka District a wondrous sacred isle whose form differs not from China’s Mount Wutai—its five peaks towering high like Manjusri’s five topknots, its three deep pools holding water as though manifesting the Dharma gate of the three liberations," he reported. "It is said that in ancient times, it emerged overnight from the foundation of the earth; thus this mountain remains unshaken by earthquakes. Truly, this must be the pure land of Manjusri Bodhisattva. I beseech you to establish a temple complex upon this ground." The *Chikurinji Engi* records that the Emperor, profoundly moved by this divine revelation, immediately issued an imperial decree in the first year of the Jinki era (724) to construct the temple complex. Since then, successive repairs across various epochs rescued it from ruin; spared from any catastrophic fires, it even survived the anti-Buddhist policies of the Meiji Restoration. The Manjusri Hall of the main temple, designated a Specially Protected Structure by the Home Ministry in 1904, endures to this day—so it is said……

More than anything, how the temple grounds stretched to every corner… and how slopes and stone steps lent fitting variation to that expanse truly evoked the sense of a “sacred site”… It projected something—an unfathomable depth, a hushed solemnity—a sacred site that felt quintessentially sacred.

I met Abbot Ebizuka Yoshitaka. He was a large-framed, thick-browed man who visibly exuded an innate wisdom and courage. Indeed, I thought, if anyone could plan that automobile road, it would be him. “All the temples we’ve visited until now had empty bell towers...” And so I questioned Mr. Ebizuka about my discovery. “No—this temple too was ordered to contribute ours, so we lowered it to be ready for removal at any time... Yet no matter how much time passed, they never came to collect it.” “...Then came the war’s end.”

Suddenly, Mr. Ebizuka laughed, “Then American soldiers came and said, ‘Why have you left the bell dumped in a place like this?’ We weren’t exactly abandoning it there—but when we explained we couldn’t just get rid of it so easily, they muttered something like ‘bullshit’ and eventually brought a whole crowd of their buddies to put it back where it belonged…”

The low fence before the entrance, covered all over with red katsura's fine leaves, was bright, serene, and beautiful.

Ten

From here, a page or two from my notebook...

Having left Chikurinji Temple, we entered Godaisan Lodge at the foot of Mount Godai... The proprietor, being one versed in such customs, purified with sacred water the vajra staff unloaded from the automobile and brought it to our room along with the sedge hat.

Departing spring— the staff and sedge hat whispering to each other

Urado Bay. The crescent moon we saw in Awa had already, swiftly become a five-day moon. The boat's wake glimmers—May's light too.

In Takamatsu. (Two verses)

To Shidoji Temple—three *ri* heard, a thistle. Today again—ill-advised weather’s thistle.

After completing the seven-day journey, we returned to Kyoto.

…At Daimonjiya.

Spring thunder—having reached the Kyoto inn