Chapter 18
2. The God of Making Ends et
Just like switching off a radio, the festival music suddenly stopped.
"Katagishi, what should we do?"
Miyaki lowered her brows and looked at .
"For now, shall we head to the shrine? There are so things I want to ask about that god."
Even if I strained my ears, there wasn't even an echo, and the dead branches of a plum tree spread across the pale, washed-out sky.
"What was that, anyway?"
As we walked along the asphalt path that cut through a vast field where only a nursing ho and so kind of factory could be seen here and there, Miyaki spoke.
It's the kind of rural scenery you find anywhere. In cases like this, as always, it takes on the appearance of just another ordinary countryside.
"Probably the god of this village..."
"Do you think those white figures carrying the portable shrine were also part of the god?"
"Who knows? Even if it looks like the shrine and the carriers are separate, we can't really be sure. Or maybe, well, since it's a portable shrine, the one on top was the god."
"Did you see it, Katagishi? That shrine didn't have any decorations like a phoenix on its top."
I fell silent.
Transmission towers stood at regular intervals, and power lines stretched out as if enclosing the distant thickets. They looked like sacred ropes, or like the tangled strings of the lanterns hanging in the shopping district.
"Now I get why the old lady at the souvenir shop said sothing strange."
Miyaki turned around at my words.
"It's not that they set a date for the festival. When they hear the festival music, that day becos the festival. They can't accept the idea of so incomprehensible monster carrying the shrine down, so they convince themselves it's a festival."
"A way to make sense of things, just to accept it..."
As we walked on, the color of the trees lining the road deepened, and they began to grow thickly, almost leaning over the guardrails.
A red torii gate, buried in a forest of deep green like cumulonimbus clouds, ca into view.
Climbing the cracked stone steps and reaching the shrine grounds at the top of the slope, we found it unexpectedly spacious, with bright sunlight pouring down.
I looked around the shrine.
Surrounded by oak trees, the grounds, which also had a small park with only a swing and a slide, were quiet.
"There's no sign of a festival..."
Miyaki murmured.
I heard n's laughter, and when I turned around, I saw three middle-aged n in work clothes chatting with cigarettes in hand behind the purification fountain.
While I hesitated to call out, Miyaki briskly approached the three.
"Excuse , it seed like there was a festival today?"
The n looked a little surprised, then smiled awkwardly and wiped their sweat with towels.
"Ah, the portable shrine passed through again, huh."
"People who don't know about it always find it strange."
"That kind of thing happens a lot around here. Where are you from?"
They were standing around a drum can, probably burning fallen leaves they had gathered. The three of them shifted to the side to make room for Miyaki and .
When I peeked into the green painted tin can with chipped paint, the charred leaves gave off thin smoke, and red, tongue-like flas flickered.
"We're from Tokyo. I'm studying folklore in graduate school and ca here for fieldwork."
Miyaki said it without hesitation. I envied how confidently she could lie, but because of that, all three of them turned their attention to .
"He's the associate professor I'm studying under."
"Oh, so young..."
The n in work clothes all nodded in understanding. I clicked my tongue quietly so they wouldn't hear.
"We heard that there's an interesting belief in this village. Sothing about a god who rewards good people and punishes bad ones..."
"Yeah, sounds like an old folktale, doesn't it? Like the Straw Hat Jizo."
"It's not such a cute story, though."
One of the n laughed and tossed his cigarette butt into the drum can. The flas flared up slightly.
"Our god's a bit stricter, you see. Doesn't overlook bad deeds. The portable shrine is like a surprise inspection sent by the god."
One of the n showed a missing front tooth.
"It's a strange question, but has anyone among you actually seen or heard of such divine judgnt?"
I asked while holding a cigarette between my teeth. The youngest of the three n tilted his head.
"I didn't see it myself, but... when my grandpa had just gotten married, he was suddenly hit from behind while walking at night and needed four stitches. They never found the culprit, but soti later, a letter of apology ca from his wife's cousin, who had opposed the marriage. The next day, that man hanged himself from a persimmon tree. I also heard the branch of the persimmon tree at grandpa's house broke at that ti."
"Was that cousin really the culprit?"
When Miyaki casually asked, the man nodded calmly.
"Well, if the god says so, then I guess it's true."
The other two nodded in agreent.
I flicked ash into the drum can, feeling a chill inside. There was no proof that man was the culprit, but the villagers didn't doubt it. If he was just a convenient scapegoat to make everyone feel better...
"Is everyone gathered?"
A voice descended from above, and when I looked up, I saw an elderly man coming down a simple staircase embedded in the slope, hidden among the trees.
The three n suddenly straightened up, so I instinctively tossed my cigarette into the can.
"I'm the chief priest here."
The man wore a gentle smile. His cal-colored jacket and flannel shirt didn't exude any authority, but judging from the three n's reactions, he seed genuine.
Before we could explain, the n in work clothes quickly told him that a professor and a student from a university in Tokyo had co to investigate.
The chief priest smiled, turned his back to us, and began walking toward the stairs he had co from, as if telling us to follow.
Unlike the shrine grounds filled with natural light, the narrow path leading into the forest was dim, with shadows cast by the leaves.
The steps poking out of the muddy ground looked like they were rotting and would collapse if stepped on.
"The portable shrine cos down this mountain path."
The chief priest said in a calm voice, still facing away.
"The portable shrine is, um, carried by the villagers..."
I deliberately asked, and the chief priest's thinning head gave a slight shake.
"Those n earlier said the portable shrine is the god coming to see everyone in the village."
Perhaps unable to bear the silence, Miyaki spoke up, and a soft laugh returned, blending with the rustling of the trees.
"It seems the villagers slightly misunderstand our god. Though expecting more than its original power is also part of a god's job, I suppose."
The chief priest stopped and looked toward the bushes. Amid the dark leaves stood sothing like a storehouse, its white paint peeling.
"Originally, our god wasn't anything grand. There used to be a large shrine farther away, and the villagers would go there when they needed help. They only prayed to the god here when they lost sothing."
The wrinkles around the chief priest's eyes deepened.
"Lost sothing..."
"Yes. When they prayed for lost things to be returned, they would mysteriously be found quickly. That's the kind of god it was. Do you see that storehouse over there?"
The door of the storehouse, which should have been white, was half open.
"The portable shrine also cos out from there, makes a round through the village, and returns. It was ant as a prayer for things to return to where they belong. That's what it used to an."
The inside of the storehouse looked like a gaping mouth, completely dark.
"So how did it beco a god with such power to punish sins?"
Miyaki stared at the storehouse as if confronting sothing inside.
"Well... from what I've heard, it gradually changed around the ti of the World War."
"Do you an the first, second, or third?"
"There's no way there was a third."
I cut in, and Miyaki looked startled. The chief priest couldn't hold back a laugh, then cleared his throat.
"The second one. As you probably know, back then, all the young n in the village were drafted. Outwardly, they celebrated for the country, but as parents, they just wanted their children to co back safely. So, the parents in the village all did the hundred-shrine pilgrimage. They prayed to the god that returns lost things: 'Please bring back our taken children.'"
Did the god, who only returned lost things, beco an overwhelmingly powerful being that tried to restore even causality itself, simply by listening to the villagers' prayers?
"So, the conscripted n..."
"They all ca back. Every single one."
Miyaki and I gasped at the sa ti.
"That's incredible..."
The sound of rustling leaves echoed, and despite the strong sunlight, the wind brushing my neck wasn't warm at all.
The chief priest hesitated, as if rolling words in his mouth, then finally squeezed out his voice.
"At first, the villagers were happy. But then, one by one, the parents began saying, 'That's not my son.' It gradually spread."
The wind died down, and everything around us fell silent like water had been poured over it.
"The villagers confronted the shrine. 'What is that thing that looks like my son you sent back? Return our real sons,' they said."
The chief priest turned back and gave a lonely smile.
"By the will of the villagers, it was decided to return them to the shrine. The n who ca back from the war climbed this mountain path without any resistance."
"And then what happened..."
At that mont, a grand bell sound rang out, as if echoing from inside my eardrum.
The portable shrine ca charging up the stairs we had descended with incredible speed.
Festival music and the sound of bells, as if gone mad. Human voices made no sound.
The n in white robes, carrying a portable shrine without its symbol, hid their faces with hoods and silently marched toward the storehouse in perfect unison.
The festival group rushed between Miyaki and as we stepped aside. The wind swirled, lifting one of the hoods up to the mouth.
At the corner of the tightly pressed lips was a thin sword scar.
The festival music suddenly stopped, and the portable shrine vanished without a trace.
As we stood there in stunned silence, the chief priest murmured in a quiet voice.
"That's probably how the young n of the village used to carry the portable shrine."
Miyaki looked at . This, too, was part of the narrative alignnt.
If carrying the portable shrine was a custom for the village youth, then anyone carrying it would undoubtedly be considered a villager.
Could those n in white robes be the young soldiers returned from the battlefield via the shrine?
"Are you saying the young n who returned to the shrine beca the ones who carry the portable shrine?"
The chief priest neither confird nor denied Miyaki's question.
"I don't know. I only heard rumors that strange things began happening in the village around that ti. Just rumors. They say it's all handled internally..."
I recalled the terrified Tomoi family.
When villagers are struck by such inexplicable incidents, what do they do?
They probably try to resolve it, but if the god of narrative alignnt could fix it, they wouldn't be that scared.
Maybe they find a compromise among themselves. Like pretending they found the culprit, for example.
"Katagishi, let's go back to Tomoi's house."
I nodded in response.
The storehouse door was tightly shut.
Is this a trial from the god, or worse, a form of retaliation?
If they complain even after getting back what they wished for, then they should try to create a better narrative alignnt themselves.
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