Sinnesspiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sinnesspiel) wrote2022-12-25 08:27 pm
sinnesspiel) wrote2022-12-25 08:27 pm
Entry tags:
Shiki Novel Translations 3.18.3
3
The call to the temple was short, quickly falling silent. Mitsuo rose to answer at the ringing sound but he couldn't get to the receiver within the two short rings. Mitsuo wondered who it had been, but of course he had no way of knowing. He blamed himself for not getting to it in time but he then also thought that had he got to it in time it might not have meant much.
Seishin, Miwako, Katsue and himself. They were all who were left now at the temple. Seishin could chant the sutras but Mitsuo could not. That wasn't to say that he couldn't imitate what he'd seen but nobody wanted Mitsuo to chant their sutras, and that would go against Mitsuo's own conscience.
(In the first place, there's no need...)
The deaths had continued ever rising. But lately announcements of those deaths hadn't been coming in. No contact had come to the temple about the dead. When contact did come, the only one who could chant the sutras was Seishin, and if they were to request a funeral service, they couldn't very well have only one monk, and they no longer had Tsurumi nor Ikebe nor Sumi. There was always the possibility of contacting an outside temple for help, but that was no longer necessary either.
(What on earth...) Mitsuo thought looking out the window as dusk fell.
What was happening to those who died. Even at this very moment, some household must have had someone within drawing their last breath. Somewhere that Mitsuo couldn't see, such a scene was occurring, and they were being drawn away into a darkness which again Mitsuo could not see.
Mitsuo exhaled, dusting a desk that no longer served a purpose. The temple was a part of Mitsuo after all--or maybe it was because Mitsuo was a part of the temple that he couldn't leave it to fall to ruin like this. Rather, he couldn't stand to see decay slowly settle in over it the way everything else was slowly dying off. Deliberately, morning and evening, he cleaned. Try as he might to polish up every nook and cranny, a desolate color rose up upon it all.
Becoming frantic, he finished up his cleaning, and while despondent that he couldn't wipe away the tint of wasting away, Mitsuo reported to Miwako that he was returning home. With the lights to the office still lit he went out to the entryway. He sorted the entryway pit, and despite no need of it he arranged the shoes and headed out where he closed the main gate and left through the side door. The steps down from the main gate, as well as the small village area that had been built up around the temple was deserted. The shops that lined it were now closed but lately half of them hadn't been seen open at all. The lights were also lacking. It was because the entryway and street lamps were broken. The night road which was already dark to begin with was now coiled in deep darkness.
Mitsuo hurried to the road to his house feeling as if he were being stabbed by something. Face down, he hurried earnestly onward. It was once he came to the road to his house that he at last lifted his face. The houses that lined the pathway on the left and right were as expected dim. Like missing teeth, there were windows with no lights. Deep along the roadway the yellow light he could see was the one where Katsue was waiting, and while it was normal enough, Mitsuo sighed at the fact that it was lit. As he grew closer, the scent of dinner being prepared wafted. Just as the faint normalcy had settled his nerves, a sound arose from beyond the thicket at his side.
A narrow ditch was the marker between Mitsuo's house and the one before him then. It wasn't so much a fence as an overlap between the garden trees from both sides. There was a figure seen through that underbrush. Just as he was about to bow his head in greeting, Mitsuo realized that it was not somebody from within that household. Mitsuo turned to look at the figure that had been at the back door. And then they were flying over the ditch, coming to meet him. Mitsuo couldn't move. A shiver rose up from the bottom of his feet but whether that was simple terror, or whether it was a more profound awe, Mitsuo himself didn't know. He only thought: 'So that's what it was.'
Since summer, the continuing deaths. The strange affair rampant in the village. Somewhere in his heart, he'd thought, he'd kown it. Looking back, Mitsuo wondered when he had known that it was something like this.
That man came towards him with broad strides and grabbed Mitsuo's arm.
"Mitsuo-san, you can't tell anyone we met."
"Tsurumi-san... You." What Mitsuo intended to say beyond that, he himself didn't know.
"You didn't see anything. Alright?"
"You, it can't be."
Tsurumi hadn't changed, but he gave a dejected nod. What he was affirming, Mitsuo didn't know, after all.
"Your mother's precious to you, right?" Tsurumi said lowly, with a darkened expression. "Then you didn't see anything."
"If I keep quiet, my mother'll be safe?"
Who knows, Tsurumi said lowly.
"You're not going to do anything to the temple are you?"
"I can't go into the temple anymore. It's chilling." Tsurumi's voice was hoarse and low. "......Yeah, if I were you, I'd have your mom live in the temple."
Mitsuo nodded. Tsurumi turned on his heels. Seeing those shoulders slump from behind, Mitsuo called out.
"What about the Head Monk? Ikebe-kun and Sumi-kun?"
Who knows, Tsurumi answered without turning back around. "I haven't seen 'em. ...... I'm sure they went on."
That right, Mitsuo answered, running into his house without seeing Tsurumi off. He wanted to cry but strangely the tears wouldn't come. Maybe it was because he didn't know what he was supposed to grieve.
In the bright living room his mother Katsue was preparing dinner and waiting. He ate the steaming meal together with his mother, and then Mitsuo gathered their luggage. Hurrying his mother, they went to the temple.
There were already only Seishin and Miwako at the temple. And Mitsuo as a part of the temple himself would see to its maintenance. ---He had decided to maintain it, from the age of fifteen.
The call to the temple was short, quickly falling silent. Mitsuo rose to answer at the ringing sound but he couldn't get to the receiver within the two short rings. Mitsuo wondered who it had been, but of course he had no way of knowing. He blamed himself for not getting to it in time but he then also thought that had he got to it in time it might not have meant much.
Seishin, Miwako, Katsue and himself. They were all who were left now at the temple. Seishin could chant the sutras but Mitsuo could not. That wasn't to say that he couldn't imitate what he'd seen but nobody wanted Mitsuo to chant their sutras, and that would go against Mitsuo's own conscience.
(In the first place, there's no need...)
The deaths had continued ever rising. But lately announcements of those deaths hadn't been coming in. No contact had come to the temple about the dead. When contact did come, the only one who could chant the sutras was Seishin, and if they were to request a funeral service, they couldn't very well have only one monk, and they no longer had Tsurumi nor Ikebe nor Sumi. There was always the possibility of contacting an outside temple for help, but that was no longer necessary either.
(What on earth...) Mitsuo thought looking out the window as dusk fell.
What was happening to those who died. Even at this very moment, some household must have had someone within drawing their last breath. Somewhere that Mitsuo couldn't see, such a scene was occurring, and they were being drawn away into a darkness which again Mitsuo could not see.
Mitsuo exhaled, dusting a desk that no longer served a purpose. The temple was a part of Mitsuo after all--or maybe it was because Mitsuo was a part of the temple that he couldn't leave it to fall to ruin like this. Rather, he couldn't stand to see decay slowly settle in over it the way everything else was slowly dying off. Deliberately, morning and evening, he cleaned. Try as he might to polish up every nook and cranny, a desolate color rose up upon it all.
Becoming frantic, he finished up his cleaning, and while despondent that he couldn't wipe away the tint of wasting away, Mitsuo reported to Miwako that he was returning home. With the lights to the office still lit he went out to the entryway. He sorted the entryway pit, and despite no need of it he arranged the shoes and headed out where he closed the main gate and left through the side door. The steps down from the main gate, as well as the small village area that had been built up around the temple was deserted. The shops that lined it were now closed but lately half of them hadn't been seen open at all. The lights were also lacking. It was because the entryway and street lamps were broken. The night road which was already dark to begin with was now coiled in deep darkness.
Mitsuo hurried to the road to his house feeling as if he were being stabbed by something. Face down, he hurried earnestly onward. It was once he came to the road to his house that he at last lifted his face. The houses that lined the pathway on the left and right were as expected dim. Like missing teeth, there were windows with no lights. Deep along the roadway the yellow light he could see was the one where Katsue was waiting, and while it was normal enough, Mitsuo sighed at the fact that it was lit. As he grew closer, the scent of dinner being prepared wafted. Just as the faint normalcy had settled his nerves, a sound arose from beyond the thicket at his side.
A narrow ditch was the marker between Mitsuo's house and the one before him then. It wasn't so much a fence as an overlap between the garden trees from both sides. There was a figure seen through that underbrush. Just as he was about to bow his head in greeting, Mitsuo realized that it was not somebody from within that household. Mitsuo turned to look at the figure that had been at the back door. And then they were flying over the ditch, coming to meet him. Mitsuo couldn't move. A shiver rose up from the bottom of his feet but whether that was simple terror, or whether it was a more profound awe, Mitsuo himself didn't know. He only thought: 'So that's what it was.'
Since summer, the continuing deaths. The strange affair rampant in the village. Somewhere in his heart, he'd thought, he'd kown it. Looking back, Mitsuo wondered when he had known that it was something like this.
That man came towards him with broad strides and grabbed Mitsuo's arm.
"Mitsuo-san, you can't tell anyone we met."
"Tsurumi-san... You." What Mitsuo intended to say beyond that, he himself didn't know.
"You didn't see anything. Alright?"
"You, it can't be."
Tsurumi hadn't changed, but he gave a dejected nod. What he was affirming, Mitsuo didn't know, after all.
"Your mother's precious to you, right?" Tsurumi said lowly, with a darkened expression. "Then you didn't see anything."
"If I keep quiet, my mother'll be safe?"
Who knows, Tsurumi said lowly.
"You're not going to do anything to the temple are you?"
"I can't go into the temple anymore. It's chilling." Tsurumi's voice was hoarse and low. "......Yeah, if I were you, I'd have your mom live in the temple."
Mitsuo nodded. Tsurumi turned on his heels. Seeing those shoulders slump from behind, Mitsuo called out.
"What about the Head Monk? Ikebe-kun and Sumi-kun?"
Who knows, Tsurumi answered without turning back around. "I haven't seen 'em. ...... I'm sure they went on."
That right, Mitsuo answered, running into his house without seeing Tsurumi off. He wanted to cry but strangely the tears wouldn't come. Maybe it was because he didn't know what he was supposed to grieve.
In the bright living room his mother Katsue was preparing dinner and waiting. He ate the steaming meal together with his mother, and then Mitsuo gathered their luggage. Hurrying his mother, they went to the temple.
There were already only Seishin and Miwako at the temple. And Mitsuo as a part of the temple himself would see to its maintenance. ---He had decided to maintain it, from the age of fifteen.