“The Vessel of the Goddess”
That phrase has two anings.
A woman who bears the vessel of the goddess, and a woman who becos the vessel for the goddess.
In our case, the forr refers to Shizuyo, and the latter refers to the daughter Shizuyo was supposed to bear.
Hearing this, any normal person would wonder. Why did it have to be
and Shizuyo, my sister?
…Right, if it’s just about making a child, it doesn’t have to be . Rather, it should be with a man not related by blood. But all the villagers, including our parents, wanted us siblings to beco husband and wife. Because for the ritual of the Descent of the Deity, twins must beco one.
Originally, twins were thought to be a single person who split into two in the womb. Twins are connected by soul.
Twins like us, a brother and a sister, are believed to possess the properties of yin and yang alongside the connection of souls.
The male embodies yang and governs life, while the female embodies yin and governs death. By twins becoming one, they connect life and death, and hence, the present world with the eternal world. Only then can we invite an otherworldly entity into reality and descend into the vessel.
And conveniently, or unfortunately, the Ando family is a lineage where twins are born easily.
It wasn’t by my own desire.
It wasn’t my own wish.
It wasn’t my own prayer.
Regardless of my will, everyone with clouded eyes declares, “Fulfill your duty.” That’s why I betrayed them. Surely, the villagers must have lanted. They must have been angry. They must have resented.
—But you were the ones who made
do it.
The villagers’ miscalculation was thinking that I would never abandon my duty. That blind faith saved . Oh, how ironic. Laughter wells up from the depths of my heart.
Serves you right. That’s all I thought.
These villagers, who harbor no doubt about committing taboo and conceiving madness. They’ve degenerated into beings who’ve forgotten to think for themselves, clinging to a deity for peace.
Clang.
A dry sound echoes in my mind.
Clang.
One step, then another.
Clang.
The sound rings out.
Clang.
The sound of geta striking the ground.
Clang.
The sound of hooves striking the ground.
Forgotten primordial mories. Writhing shadows. Whispers in my ear. A world red like blood. Stirring—…
“…”
Called, I lift my face.
“…”
Called, I look at her.
“…”
Her eyes capture .
“—Uh, aah…ugh, ha.”
Noise runs through .
Who is she?
Her face wavers, indistinguishable. Is she Shizuyo, Amal, or soone else? I don’t know. I can’t tell.
The vessel of the goddess.
The womb that bears the goddess.
The vessel for the goddess.
What is inside that vessel? A human? A dead soul? A deity?
…Who are you?
***
“Ku, do…dono! Kuro, dono, Kuro-dono!”
“Ah.”
Before I knew it, Johanna’s face filled my vision. I almost scread, but quickly covered my mouth with my palm. The trembling won’t stop. My heart throbs heavily.
“Hu, mmm, haa haa.”
“Kuro-dono, it’s okay. Calm down. It’s okay, I will never harm you. So, please don’t cry.”
With Johanna’s words, I realize for the first ti that I’m shedding tears.
“Johanna, I… I am”
“Ah, Kuro-dono.”
It’s okay, Johanna repeats over and over. With a slightly stiff but warm palm, she wipes my eyes. I pull her hand and bury my head in her shoulder. She doesn’t reprimand
for my actions, just gently strokes my back.
After a while, I beco acutely aware that I’m being comforted by a younger girl. It’s embarrassing as an adult. I hastily pull away. My cheeks are hot.
“Jo, Johanna, sorry. I caused you trouble.”
“I don’t think it’s trouble.”
Johanna answers, briefly. Then, she grabs my right hand as if to envelop it. Gradually, warmth transfers from Johanna’s hand to mine.
She asks nothing. Not why I snuck into the library, not why I was crying—nothing at all.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
At my question, Johanna narrows her eyes for a mont. Then, her lips relax faintly. There’s no trace of negative emotions like suffering or anger, just an expression as if she’s cherishing her own child.
“…Do you want
to ask?”
She asks in return. Surely, even if I told her everything, Johanna would accept it. That was not a guess but a conviction. However, instinctively, sothing tells
I shouldn’t. Once I speak, Johanna will cross a line, and…
“No.”
By pressing my heart over my clothes, I suppress the feelings that seem about to vanish. Otherwise, I’d want to confess everything.
“Then, I won’t ask.”
“Yeah.”
“…You are a strong person. That’s why you are the weakest of all. To , that is unbearably dear and unbearably sad.”
“Johanna?”
“Kuro-dono, this…”
Johanna takes out a wooden cross from her bosom. She offers the worn, rounded cross to . This cross is always worn by Johanna. She has a habit of touching it whenever she ponders sothing. It must be precious to her.
“This is my rosary. I want to give it to you.”
“…But isn’t this important to you?”
“It might be for Scotus. But I, Johanna, don’t need it. So, please accept it.”
Johanna offers the rosary again, insisting I take it and refusing to back down until I do. There’s nothing I can do when she says that. Reluctantly, I accept the rosary.
“—Ah, I’m relieved.”
Seeing
put the rosary around my neck, Johanna smiles fleetingly. My heart is inexplicably restless.
As if to hide it, I touch the rosary. And, even though I think it’s a foolish question, I ask Johanna.
“Do you believe in God?”
She smiles quietly.
“…Yes, of course.”
Johanna nods and makes the sign of the cross. To , it looks like she’s slashing a throat and passing judgnt.
—Kyrie Eleison
Lord, have rcy.
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