Demon Sword Dance
Book 2 of the Dororo Novel Series
Toriumi Jinzō
Part 1 - The Ruined Temple
Chapter 2
Hyakkimaru took the mountain road toward Imajō the next morning. He'd eaten nearly all his food when he'd rested two days before. He was urgently thirsty, so he descended into the river valley for a drink. The Hino River flowed upstream from here. The shadow of the mountains above fell across the water. Hyakkimaru cupped water from the river in both hands and brought it to his mouth. The water felt soothing and cold on his overheated skin.
He had left the village of the dead the night before, but dawn came slowly and his legs felt heavy as he walked. He stood up from the river and felt the oppressive weight of the mountains surrounding him. The flowering trees were finally in bloom and the spring air was full of life, but Hyakkimaru felt none of its invigorating effects. His movements were ragged and his psychokinetic control lapsed. When he slept, he felt entirely numb.
He was in the center of Ezichen Province. Snow fell thick on the mountains around even though it was spring. The Hino River flowed north from here through Takefu and Sabae.
Hyakkimaru was in the depths of despair.
Suddenly, Hyakkimaru heard the voice of a man singing, carried on the wind. "The wind blows to the east, and it rains in the west..." The man's voice had no accent. It was level and calm.
"If the fickle wind carries my scent..."
The man's voice echoed in Hyakkimaru's heart. He felt extreme irritation at having moped around for so long and climbed back up to the mountain road. The singer stood in the road in front of Hyakkimaru. He carried a lute on his back and was dressed like a monk. It was hard to guess his age, but he was probably past fifty. He was completely bald. His eyes were white-blind, but the expression on his face made Hyakkimaru feel like he was looking straight through him. Though blind, his eyes shone with a keen and piercing sort of light.
The monk's clothes were filthy and torn. He wore old wooden clogs on his feet and walked with a sturdy cane.
Hyakkimaru stared into the monk's white eyes. He had rushed so quickly up to the road that he was out of breath. The monk used his cane to find the edge of the road, then started walking toward Hyakkimaru. He stopped before he reached him and laughed disdainfully.
Why is he laughing?
Hyakkimaru's stare now expressed nothing but irritation.
The old monk extended his cane out in front of him. Hyakkimaru felt an overwhelming assault of spiritual energy and stood his ground.
"You look like a young samurai on the outside, but that energy you've got has changed you into something else," the blind monk said. His tone was as astringent as acid. His register of speech was polite enough, but his words were shaped to pierce and hurt.
Hyakkimaru wondered how he could see anything at all. Rage welled up inside him at being mocked for no reason.
The old monk leaned forward and said in a perfectly innocent tone, "Your entire body reeks of death."
Hyakkimaru's left hand went reflexively to the hilt of his Muramasa sword. "And what about you? Are you something else in the shape of a monk?"
The old monk chuckled. "I may not have eyes, but the wind tells me everything I need to know."
"The wind?" Hyakkimaru frowned in confusion, looking the old monk up and down. His lute was built in the Chinese style. Hyakkimaru recognized it from illustrations. Blind monks were often taught to play such lutes and tell stories. This tradition dated to the reign of Emperor Ninmyō, who lived from 808 to 850. His son, Prince Saneyasu, was blind because of an eye disease. He lived in seclusion in Yamashina and gathered the blind together to teach them the lute, dancing, and poetry. The resulting group of skilled musicians that resulted was known as Todōza, an autonomous support group for blind men. Emperor Daigo's fourth son Shigeakira continued and expanded this tradition as a great lover of music and a patron of the arts. The creation of the Todōza guild made the lives of many blind people much better, but their occupations were still severely restricted.
"You appear whole of body, but a bloodthirsty rage resides in your false limbs," the monk said.
"What?"
How could the old monk tell that Hyakkimaru's limbs were fake when no one else could? Jukai, Sakuzō and Dororo knew, as did the demons who had stolen his body, but aside from them, no one else knew.
"The wind told me that, too," the old monk said sagely. "Your body isn't the only thing that stinks."
Hyakkimaru's face felt hot. "And who are you, then? How can you tell what I really look like?"
"I am what you see: an old blind man. I travel through this dark and hellish world, following after yōkai and demons."
"Yōkai?" Hyakkimaru concentrated his psychokinetic energy and drew his sword. He was about to strike the old monk when he drew a thin sword out from the handle of his lute. There was a metallic clang as the blades connected.
The Muramasa sword fell from Hyakkimaru's hand into the dirt. Hyakkimaru gaped at it in astonishment.
The old monk laughed. "I remember Muramasa. Never draw that sword unless you intend to put your entire conviction behind it. It'll kill you as easily as anything else." He sheathed his sword.
Could the old monk really tell who had made his sword by crossing it with his own only once? Had the wind told him that, too?
Hyakkimaru stood frozen in front of the inscrutable, infuriating monk.
"You're so young. All that hatred you have will expend itself and come to nothing. May Manjushri, Bodhisattva1 of wisdom, guide your steps. Farewell."
The old monk spun on his heel and proceeded up the mountain path without saying another word to Hyakkimaru. He sang his same song again: "The wind blows to the east, and it rains in the west. If the fickle wind carries my scent..." His cane was out in front of him; his secret sword was hidden inside his lute. He wasn't a yōkai after all.
The old monk was far from a friend, but watching him go made Hyakkimaru feel isolated and alone again.
"Aniki," Dororo said from behind him.
Dororo was crouched down next to a pine tree near the road. He emerged from his hiding place slowly, laughing a little as he approached. "Hehehe..."
Hearing Dororo's voice snapped Hyakkimaru into focus. "Dororo?" Hyakkimaru asked. He couldn't believe that Dororo was actually here.
"I followed you to see what you would do," Dororo said with a shrug.
Dororo must have seen and overheard his encounter with the old monk, but he didn't remark on it. Dororo's fast-talking precociousness was something that Hyakkimaru had missed more than he cared to admit.
"How did you get here?" he asked.
"I was worried about you being alone," Dororo said. "Look what just happened, after all." He was as cheeky as ever.
Hyakkimaru had caught sight of Dororo following him after leaving Mount Kurama, but he hadn't expected Dororo to actually cross the mountains—or to intercept him. How on earth had he traveled so fast?
Hyakkimaru settled the Muramasa sword in its scabbard and looked down at Dororo with a severe expression. "Dororo, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to follow me?"
"I know it is," Dororo said. "Why else do you think I'm here? I can help you. And I never get in the way." He folded his arms.
"You..." Hyakkimaru shook his head in exasperation. No matter how mad he got and no matter how much he yelled, Dororo would never agree to turn tail and go home.
"We're wasting time," Dororo said. "Wanna make camp?"
"There are inns at Imajō. We'll stay at one tonight, and you'll go back to Mount Kurama tomorrow," Hyakkimaru said in a tone of command.
Dororo hung his head. "Um, uh..."
Imajō was on a fork of the Hokuriku Road that led west toward the Sea of Japan. It was an important crossroads that was equidistant from Nakayama Pass, Kinome Pass, and the Tochinoki Pass, so travelers passed through frequently and many types of accommodation were available.
"I told you already that it's dangerous," Hyakkimaru said.
"Why?" Dororo asked.
"I passed through a village of people who were slaughtered by bandits last night. And that's not all. The Western Army is patrolling this area. There are probably ashigaru at the inns we'll pass, so we'll have to be extra careful."
Dororo had guessed at Hyakkimaru's path and had planned to meet him in Imajō. There was a large store of army provisions there that he could easily use to replenish his own supplies. But Hyakkimaru had caught up to him before he could get to Imajō.
Dororo gave Hyakkimaru a mischievous sort of smile. "Are we breaking past enemy lines, then?"
"No," Hyakkimaru said. "We'll make camp and avoid them."
Dororo had no intention of returning to Mount Kurama. He would follow Hyakkimaru no matter what. All Hyakkimaru could do was try to avoid danger as much as possible.
"Where should we camp?" Hyakkimaru asked, looking around.
"You're hopeless without me, aniki," Dororo said. "I already found a place to sleep tonight."
"What?"
"There's an old temple over that mountain ridge," Dororo said. "I saw its roof before."
Hyakkimaru was astonished at Dororo's foresight.
"It's a little far," Dororo said, "but they'll give us food and shelter for the night for free."
Hyakkimaru and Dororo climbed up the steep mountain path as the sun started going down. There was an animal trail that led directly toward the temple.
"Ah! A butterfly!" Dororo said, pointing to a white moth emerging from a cocoon on the branch of a chestnut tree.
Hyakkimaru followed his finger to where it was pointing. He suddenly remembered the name of the sword of the wandering samurai he'd met, Nihil.2 It was probably just some strange sort of coincidence.
"I think it's a gypsy moth," Hyakkimaru said. The name of the moth actually came from its cocoon, which was suspended to a tree branch like a trapeze.3 The Japanese Emperor Saga wrote several poems about it that he'd heard from Jukai. The secondary meaning of the word "cocoon" was "purification" or "rebirth."
"People call it a maimai moth, too—the dancing moth, because when they first emerge and flutter around, they look like dancing children," Hyakkimaru said.
Dororo poked at the emerging gypsy moth. "Hey! You! Dance or something!"
"Don't bother it," Hyakkimaru said. "It's poisonous."
"I know," Dororo said. "Look at it! Its furry part looks so sharp!" Dororo withdrew his hand quickly from the moth.
Hyakkimaru remembered what Sakuzō had told him about maimai moths. "They're pests that eat grains and the leaves off of trees. A swarm of them could destroy an entire village's supply of food. They're considered very unlucky."
The moth continued to struggle out of its white cocoon, which shone like silver in the failing light. During the reign of Empress Jitō,4 this province's governor presented her with the gift of a beautifully preserved white moth. Such a splendid example of a rare species was kept as a treasured heirloom for many years.
The moon rose high in the sky as they came closer to the temple. It was a temple in name only; it was so old and poorly maintained that the roof was collapsing on one side and several dark shingles had fallen off. The walls were crumbling, too. It was amazing that the entire structure hadn't fallen to ruin already. The area surrounding the temple was overgrown with grass and weeds.
"It's so rundown," Dororo grumbled. "It doesn't look like any priests have lived here for a while."
"It's a ruin, but at least's it's got a roof to keep off the rain," Hyakkimaru said.
"Part of one, anyway," Dororo muttered.
Many temples had been built in Ezichen during the Nara Period, including the Todaiji Temple, Daian Temple, and the Saidai Temple. Though many of these temples still stood, many others had been destroyed by war.5
"Ah!" Dororo stared fixedly at the partially exposed main hall of the temple. Something was moving in the doorway. "A yōkai!" He pulled out his blowgun and darts from his sleeve.
Encountering a yōkai here wasn't impossible. Dororo had seen the demon woman fight Hyakkimaru at the Unryū Temple Complex in Fushimi, and there were lots of stories about monsters and demons haunting temple ruins. Dororo readied a dart and prepared to fire.
"Calm down, Dororo," Hyakkimaru said. "It's a child."
"Huh?" Dororo set aside his blowgun and squinted at the temple.
Hyakkimaru's eyesight was enhanced by psychokinesis, so he was very sure of what he was seeing. There were two children crouching down in the doorway of the temple with fearful expressions. When Dororo verified for himself that there was no danger, he smiled brightly and ran up the worn stone steps to the temple.
"Sorry, is this your house?" Dororo asked the two children. "I didn't mean to scare you, honest!"
Dororo had once lived in the basement of an abandoned temple in Kyōto. He grasped immediately that this ruined temple was some kind of refuge for orphans. The children cried out in alarm and slammed the temple doors shut.
"We're travelers!" Dororo called out. "Please let us stay, just for one night. And we're starving—couldn't you spare a bite to eat?"
The doors of the temple opened a crack. Dororo peeked inside and blinked in surprise. Inside the temple, there were ten children from the ages of three to seven gathered near the doors. A fire lit in the center of the temple's main hall illuminated their faces. They were all barefoot and appeared genuinely frightened. They wore stained and ill-fitting kosode; it was difficult to distinguish the girls from the boys.
Several of the children had severe injuries. Some were even missing arms and legs. Their faces and limbs were so pitifully thin that they appeared to be on the brink of starvation.
Hyakkimaru and Dororo gaped at the children in shock. A door leading deeper into the temple opened, revealing a young woman standing in the light of the fire. She carried a small lamp in her hand and held it up so that she could take a closer look at Dororo and Hyakkimaru.
The young woman appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen years old. She wore nothing but an unlined kimono and was barefoot, just like the children. Her expression was artless and unassuming, but she wasn't frightened.
Hyakkimaru lowered his head politely. "We apologize for startling you," he said. "We're travelers and have no place to stay. Might we trouble you to allow us to stay here for just one night?"
Hyakkimaru's polite tone seemed to put the woman at ease. She came closer to him with the lamp and bowed slightly. "No one ever comes to this ruined temple," she said. "You've startled the children." She smiled at the orphans, who had congregated in a corner of the room away from Dororo and Hyakkimaru.
Hyakkimaru saw something very beautiful in her smile. He had met a princess on the slopes of Mount Kurama as a boy, all dressed up in elaborate court clothing and makeup. The princess was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen up close, but he thought that the woman was just as beautiful in a completely different way. Perhaps because he'd grown up isolated on a mountain estate, he found her sun-browned skin and open honesty a refreshing reminder of the simple life he'd left behind.
Hyakkimaru bowed his head again. "We're very sorry to bother you," he said. "Please excuse us."
"But where will you go?" the woman asked, frowning.
"We'll manage," Hyakkimaru said.
"But..." The woman's eyes moved between Dororo and Hyakkimaru. Her frown deepened.
"I, uh..." Hyakkimaru hesitated, but he was concerned about leaving the woman and children alone here, so he gathered his courage and asked, "Are you the only one taking care of the children, miss?"
She faced Hyakkimaru a sorrowful look. "There's no one else to take care of them, aside from me. They have no other homes or families."
Hyakkimaru's throat felt tight. Words failed him. He was far from the only abandoned child in the world: the evidence of that was right before his eyes. Dororo was an orphan. He was certain that the woman who had chosen to care for these poor children had an unfortunate past, herself. Yet she had chosen to transcend her own tragic circumstances to protect these children as best she could.
Hyakkimaru didn't feel like he could stay here for one second longer. "Let's go, Dororo," he said.
"Yeah," Dororo said, more than a little sadly.
"Wait a moment," the young woman said. "Please stay here for the night. I'm sure the children would be happy to have you here with us."
Her words had a transformative effect on all the orphans: they walk-crawled over to Dororo and Hyakkimaru and gathered around them, looking at them with open curiosity.
"Hi, mister!" one of the girls called out to Dororo.
Dororo smiled before he realized it. He laughed, a little from nerves and a little from the open admiration that he saw on the other children's faces.
"I made stew for dinner," the young woman said. "It's right over there. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," Dororo said. "And it's rude to reject hospitality, aniki."
"Dororo," Hyakkimaru said reproachfully. He shook his head. Dororo was right: it would be rude to leave now that they'd been invited to stay. He smiled to put the others more at ease. His stomach growled; he was hungry, too.
The temple kitchen was behind the main hall. Like the rest of the structure, it was in ruins, but one corner was clean and scrupulously kept. There was fire set in one surviving stove. A pot of stew hung over the flames. The young woman removed the large pot from the fire and carried it back into the main hall.
The children scurried all around Dororo and Hyakkimaru when the young woman came back into the room. Having heard from her that Dororo and Hyakkimaru were guests, they relaxed their guard and welcomed them wholeheartedly. They'd never had guests in the temple before.
The smell of fresh wild vegetables wafted through the room as the young woman lifted the lid off the pot.
Dororo's eyes went huge and round. "It smells fantastic." The other children laughed happily at his strange expression.
The young woman ladled the stew into wooden bowls. The children were overjoyed to share their meal. They were very isolated in this temple and were excited to see and talk to people from the outside world.
The young woman introduced herself as Mio. She looked around at the children's bright faces and gave them all a gentle smile. The children called her their older sister, but she really acted more like their mother.6 Her love for them radiated around her like an aura for all to see.
Hyakkimaru was intensely moved by Mio's affection for the children. The meal was a simple one, but the children all seemed very excited about it. The experience was entirely different from his life on Mount Kurama, where there had always been plenty of food to eat—but the only ones to eat it were him, Jukai, Sakuzō, and (sometimes) Dororo. Here, he felt the warmth of a large, close family. Mio made him feel a sentimental attachment to a mother he had never met.
Dororo felt much the same way. He had lived on his own since his parents died and completely understood the lonesome and impoverished life of a war orphan. Mio reminded him of his own kind mother.
The temple had obviously been abandoned long ago. Scattered black roof tiles lay all over the exterior courtyard. There were no statues or iconography of the Buddha inside, or even any prayer bells or meditation mats. Torn and dirty sutras7 and prayer scrolls were piled in the main hall's corners. Most of the wooden floor had rotted away, revealing bare earth. The flooring that had survived creaked when weight was placed on it. It was likely that the temple had been attacked by bandits. Nothing of value remained inside the temple's walls.
The children took an immediate liking to Dororo, though this affection was, more often than not, pestering. Dororo was thrust into the role of babysitter before he realized what was happening. When the children lined themselves up and stretched out to sleep after dinner, Dororo told them an old story he'd heard from Sakuzō back on Mount Kurama. The children listened with interest for a long time before they finally drifted off to sleep.
Hyakkimaru ate thick, sweet-smelling arrowroot gruel with Mio and felt more at home than he had in weeks. Mio savored her portion slowly, eating with deliberate and delicate movements.
Gradually, Hyakkimaru's sense of comfort and ease soured toward suspicion. She only just met me and Dororo—shouldn't she be more guarded around us? he thought. Or is she just so naive that she doesn't know any better?
He sensed that she wasn't simply acting calm in front of Dororo and the children. Was her innocence and simplicity some kind of act to draw them in? Hyakkimaru's thoughts warred within him; he didn't know what to make of Mio at all.
Mio told Hyakkimaru that she came from a poor village located along the line of one of the Hino River's southern tributaries. She was the daughter of the village headman. In early spring, the Eastern Army had attacked her village and killed everyone who hadn't managed to flee. They had stolen all the food, money and supplies and burned many of the houses. Mio had been fast enough to successfully get away, but her entire family had been killed.
After that, Mio had found this old temple and made it a safe place for war orphans. She went to the surrounding villages to beg for food for herself and the children. She still had some status as the daughter of a village headman, but Hyakkimaru couldn't even imagine how much begging she would have to do to keep all of the children in the temple fed.
"In this season, it's easy for us to gather our own food from the wild plants that grow on the mountain," she said with a smile. "It saves us a lot of trouble."
Hyakkimaru found her smile dazzling.
***
Hyakkimaru stayed awake until late in the night, listening to the sound of the wind howling. He was stretched out alone on a platform that was slightly raised off the floor. His eyes were closed, but he couldn't sleep.
I may not have eyes, but the wind tells me everything I need to know.
Hyakkimaru kept remembering the blind monk who had mocked him on the road.
I'm sure he was human, but he had some kind of strange power. Where did it come from? No one should be able to tell that my limbs are fake, much less a blind man. And he stopped the Muramasa sword like it was the easiest thing in the world. He's not just human, but superhuman.
He also remembered the strange swordsman he'd met at the edge of the Arachi Mountain Pass. Hyakkimaru had only just started his journey on the Hokuriku Road, but he'd already had these two strange encounters.
It was probably just a coincidence that he'd met the swordsman and the monk, but some small part of him believed that they'd been placed in his path for a reason. Maybe he was meant to meet Mio, too, who had been so warm and kind.
Hyakkimaru glanced over at Mio and the children where they were sleeping. He could just barely make out faces in the dark. Mio's face in sleep recalled to him the image of Kannon, goddess of mercy.
1 In Buddhism, a Bodhisattva is any person who is on the path towards Buddhahood. The term refers to anyone who has made a resolution to become a Buddha and has also received a confirmation or prediction from a living Buddha that this will be so. If a Buddha is considered as a god, then a Bodhisattva can be considered as a lesser or demigod.↩
2 "Nihil" means "crimson leech" in Japanese. "Hihiru," which can also be romanized as "hihil," is an older term for "moth" or "butterfly."↩
3 Trapeze, in Japanese kanji, is 鞦韆, buranco. The name of the gypsy moth in Japanese is 鞦韆毛虫, burancokemushi, which means "trapeze caterpillar." ↩
4 Empress Jitō (645 – 13 January 703) was the 41st monarch of Japan, according to the traditional order of succession. Jitō's reign spanned the years from 686 through 697. In the history of Japan, Jitō was the third of eight women to take on the role of empress regnant. ↩
5 All three of the temples mentioned in this chapter (Todaiji Temple, Daian Temple, and the Saidai Temple) are among the seven great Buddhist temples that were historically powerful and influential. ↩
6 The children address Mio as oneechan (お姉ちゃん), the casual form of oneesan (お姉さん), which means "older sister."↩
7 A sutra, in Indian literary traditions, refers to an aphorism or a collection of aphorisms in the form of a manual or, more broadly, a condensed manual or text. Sutras are a genre of ancient and medieval Indian texts found in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism.↩
No comments:
Post a Comment