Six to eight

by 芥川龍之介

When I think of the folding screen of Hell, I feel as if that terrifying scene is unfolding right before my eyes.

Even though it is the same Hell, the one painted by Yoshihide is completely different from the works of other artists. In one corner of the screen, the Ten Kings and their retinue are depicted small, while the remaining part is swirling with crimson flames. The intensity of the fire is as if the trees of sword thorns and blades are being consumed. The costumes of the Tang-style underworld officials are adorned with splashes of yellow and indigo, but the surroundings are dyed in the color of fierce fire. Amidst this, the sparks of fire, swirling with black smoke like ink splattered, and gold dust are dancing madly.

This alone has a powerful strength that astonishes people's eyes, but the figures of the sinners being burned by the raging flames and suffering are completely different from typical depictions of Hell. Yoshihide has included people of all ranks among these many sinners, from the likes of Tsuki-kyou and Un-kaku to beggars and outcasts. There are solemn court nobles clad in formal attire, elegant young women in five-layered garments, Buddhist monks with prayer beads, samurai students wearing high wooden sandals, girls in long robes, and onmyouji holding offerings—there is no end to the list. Various people are being oppressed by the jailers of the Ox-Head and Horse-Head, fleeing in all directions like leaves scattered by a strong wind. A woman with her hair entangled in a steel fork, shrinking her limbs like a spider, might be a shaman. A man pierced in the chest by a halberd, turned upside down like a bat, is surely a soul condemned to hell. Additionally, there are those being beaten with iron rods, crushed by boulders, caught in the beaks of monstrous birds, and bitten by the jaws of poisonous dragons—each sinner suffers in various forms according to their number.

Among them, particularly striking is a single ox cart that grazes the top of the sword tree, resembling the fangs of a beast. Inside the curtains of that cart, which has been lifted by the winds of hell, there are courtiers and ladies-in-waiting dressed in splendid attire, their black hair billowing in the flames, twisting their white necks in agony. The figure of that lady and the blazing ox cart evoke no sense of the torments of the fiery hell. The terror of the vast scene seems to be condensed into this one character. Those who witness this sight will surely feel a tremendous scream echoing deep within their ears. It is truly a divine masterpiece.

Ah, it was for this to be depicted that the terrible event occurred. Yoshihide underwent a gruesome fate, willing to sacrifice even his life to complete the painting on this folding screen. The hell depicted in this painting was the very hell that Yoshihide himself would one day fall into.

I may have gotten the order of my story mixed up while talking about that unusual hell painting on the folding screen. However, let us now turn to Yoshihide, who was commanded by the lord to paint the hell scenes.

After that, for five or six months, Yoshihide did not show his face at the mansion at all, completely engrossed in the painting of the folding screen. It is strange that such a doting father would lose the desire to see his daughter's face when it came time to paint. According to the earlier-mentioned disciple, when Yoshihide begins his work, he becomes as if possessed by a fox. In fact, at that time, it was rumored that Yoshihide gained fame in the art world by offering prayers to the great deity of fortune, and as evidence, it was said that when one peeked from behind a shadow while he was painting, they could see the spirit foxes gathering around him in all directions. Therefore, once he picks up the brush, he becomes unable to think of anything other than completing the painting. He would shut himself in a room day and night, rarely going outside. Especially when painting the hell scenes, it seems that his obsession was particularly severe.

Ryōshū does not simply mix secret paints under the light of a lantern in his room day and night, nor does he dress his disciples in water-dried garments or hunting clothes and carefully paint each of them one by one. Such peculiarities are things he can do anytime when he starts working, even without painting the hellish folding screen. In fact, when he painted the Five Aspects of Life and Death at Ryūgai Temple, he calmly sat down in front of a corpse by the roadside, which ordinary people would avoid, and managed to depict the half-decayed face and limbs without missing a single hair. Now, some may wonder what his obsession really means. I don't have the time to go into details, but to summarize, it goes something like this.

One day, one of Ryōshū's disciples was mixing paints when suddenly the master came in and said, "I think I’ll take a short nap, but recently my dreams have been bad." Since this was not particularly unusual, the disciple continued working without stopping and replied, "Is that so?" as a standard greeting. However, Ryōshū looked unusually sad and politely requested, "During that time, I would like you to sit by my pillow." The disciple thought it was strange that the master was concerned about dreams, but he didn't think much of it.

"Alright," the disciple said, and the master, still looking worried,

said hesitantly, "Then, come to the back right away. However, if any of the outside disciples come later, make sure they cannot enter where you are sleeping." The back refers to the room where that man paints, and that day, just like at night, the door was completely shut, with a dim light flickering inside, and a folding screen was set up all around, on which only the outlines had been drawn with a burning brush.

Now, upon coming here, Yoshihide rested his elbows on the pillow and fell into a deep sleep, as if he were utterly exhausted. However, within no more than half an hour, an indescribably eerie voice began to be heard by the disciple at his bedside.

At first, it was merely a voice, but after a while, it gradually turned into fragmented words, as if a drowning person were murmuring in the water.

“What, do you want me to come? -- Where -- where do you want me to come? Come to the abyss. Come to the hell of scorching heat. -- Who are you? You who say such things. -- Who are you -- who do you think you are?”

The disciple involuntarily stopped mixing the paint and, trembling with fear, peered into his master's face, which had turned pale and was covered in wrinkles, beads of sweat oozing from it, as he gasped with his dry lips and sparse teeth wide open. And then, thinking there was something moving rapidly inside that mouth as if pulling on a thread, it turned out to be that man's tongue. The fragmented words, of course, were coming from that tongue.

“Who do you think you are -- hmm, it’s you, isn’t it? I thought you were me too. What, you came to fetch me? Then come. Come to the abyss. In the abyss -- my daughter is waiting.”

At that moment, the disciple felt an unsettling sensation, as if a hazy, monstrous shadow were swirling down and skimming the surface of the folding screen. Of course, the disciple immediately put his hands on Yoshihide and shook him with all his might, but the master continued to talk to himself in his dream, showing no signs of waking up easily. So, the disciple boldly splashed the water from the nearby brush washer onto that man's face.

“I’ll be waiting, so get in this car—get in this car and come to the abyss—” I thought the words had suddenly transformed into a strangled groan, and finally, Yoshihide opened his eyes and jumped up in a flurry, more hurriedly than if he had been pricked by a needle, but it seemed that the strange figure from the dream did not leave his side. For a while, he just stared at the sky with a terrifying expression, his mouth wide open, but eventually, he seemed to come to his senses,

“That’s enough, just go over there,” he said this time quite curtly. When the disciple defied him at such times, he would always receive scolding, so he hurriedly left the master’s room, but when he saw the bright sunlight outside, he said he felt a sense of relief as if he had awakened from a nightmare.

However, this was still the better part, and about a month later, another disciple was called deep inside, and Yoshihide was once again biting his paintbrush in the dim light of the oil lamp, but suddenly turned to face the disciple and,

“I appreciate your hard work, but I’ll need you to get naked again,” he said. This was something the master had instructed before, so the disciple immediately stripped off his clothes and became completely naked, but that man made a strange grimace while,

"I want to see a person bound by chains, but I feel sorry for you, so could you please do as I say for just a little while?" he said coldly, showing no sign of sympathy at all. Originally, this disciple was a robust young man who seemed more suited to wielding a sword than holding a paintbrush, but he appeared to be quite surprised by this, and later, when recounting that moment, he repeatedly said, "I thought my master had gone mad and was going to kill me." However, it seemed that Yoshihide was becoming irritated with his partner's hesitation. With a thin iron chain that he had somehow produced, he roughly pulled it while almost leaping onto the disciple's back, forcibly twisting both arms and wrapping them up tightly. Then, he jerked the end of the chain with a harsh motion, causing the disciple's body to bounce and crash loudly onto the floor, falling over sideways.