Twelve to fourteen

by 芥川龍之介

I don't have anything particularly to say about the events during that time. However, if I had to mention something, it would be the story of that stubborn old man who, for some reason, became unusually emotional and would sometimes cry alone in places where no one was around. One day in particular, when one of his disciples came to the garden, it seems that the master's eyes, while he stood in the hallway absentmindedly gazing at the approaching spring sky, were filled with tears. Seeing this, the disciple felt embarrassed instead and silently turned back. Isn’t it quite strange that that arrogant man, who even painted the corpses on the roadside to depict the five aspects of life and death, would cry like a child because he couldn't paint the folding screen as he wished?

On the other hand, while Ryo-shu was engrossed in painting the folding screen, that girl gradually became melancholic for some reason, and we could see her holding back tears even in front of us. Given that she was originally a pale and modest girl with a hint of sorrow, this made her eyelashes seem heavy, and dark circles formed around her eyes, giving her an even more lonely impression. At first, we speculated that it was due to her feelings for her father or that she was lovesick, but gradually rumors began to spread that "the lord is trying to take her for himself," and from that point on, no one spoke about her anymore.

It was just around that time. One night, late in the evening, as I was passing through the hallway alone, that monkey, Yoshihide, suddenly jumped out from somewhere and tugged at the hem of my hakama. Indeed, it was a warm night with a faint moonlight that seemed to carry the scent of plum blossoms, but in that light, the monkey bared its pure white teeth, wrinkled its nose, and cried out loudly as if it had gone mad. I felt three parts of unease and seven parts of annoyance at having my new hakama pulled, and at first, I thought about kicking the monkey and just passing by. However, upon reflection, there was also the samurai who had fallen out of favor with the young lord for scolding this monkey before. Moreover, the monkey's behavior seemed rather unusual. So, I decided to boldly walk five or six steps toward where it was pulling.

As I reached the point where the hallway turned and the pale water of the pond spread out elegantly beyond the pines, I heard a commotion from a nearby room that sounded like people arguing, hurried and strangely quiet, echoing in my ears. Everything around was silent like a forest, and in the midst of something that was neither moonlight nor mist, I could hear nothing but the sound of fish jumping. Given this noise in such a setting, I instinctively stopped and quietly leaned toward the door, thinking that if there were any intruders, they would surely show themselves.

However, the monkey, perhaps because my movements were slow, seemed to dash around my feet two or three times in frustration, and then, with a voice that sounded as if it were being choked, suddenly jumped onto my shoulder. I instinctively tilted my neck to avoid being caught by its claws, and the monkey clung desperately to the sleeve of my water-drying robe, trying not to slip off my body. In the process, I unknowingly staggered two or three steps and bumped my body against the door. At this point, there was no time to hesitate any longer. I hurriedly flung open the door and tried to leap into the depths where the moonlight did not reach. However, what blocked my eyes at that moment was—no, more than that, I was startled by the woman who seemed to be trying to dash out of the room at the same time. The woman almost collided with me as we met, and she tumbled outside, but for some reason, she knelt there, breathless, looking up at my face as if she were seeing something terrifying, trembling.

It goes without saying that she was Yoshihide's daughter. However, that night, she appeared to me as if she had completely transformed. Her eyes were large and shining, and her cheeks were flushed with color. Moreover, her disheveled hakama and kimono added a vividness that was a stark contrast to her usual youthful appearance. Could this really be the frail, modest daughter of Yoshihide? I leaned against the door, gazing at the beautiful figure of the girl in the moonlight, and pointed to the sound of another person hurriedly retreating, asking quietly with my eyes, "Who is it?"

Then the girl bit her lip and silently shook her head. That expression also seemed to show her frustration.

So I bent down and leaned closer to my daughter's ear, this time whispering, "Who is it?" However, my daughter merely shook her head and did not respond at all. No, at the same time, tears were welling up at the tips of her long eyelashes, and she was biting her lips tighter than before.

For foolish me, unfortunately, I could not grasp anything other than what I understood all too well. Therefore, I stood there frozen for a while, feeling as if I were just listening to my daughter's heartbeat, not knowing what words to say. Moreover, part of the reason was that for some reason, it felt wrong to press further, which made my heart ache.

I did not know how long that lasted. However, eventually, while closing the open sliding door, I turned back to my daughter, who seemed a bit flushed, and said as gently as I could, "It's time to go back to the kitchen." I myself was also overcome with an uneasy feeling as if I had seen something I shouldn't have, feeling embarrassed for no one in particular, and quietly began to walk back the way I came.

However, before I had taken ten steps, someone timidly pulled on the hem of my hakama from behind. Startled, I turned around to find that at my feet, that monkey, Yoshihide, was kneeling like a human, ringing a golden bell, and bowing his head politely again and again.

About half a month later, one day, Yoshihide suddenly came to the mansion and requested an audience with the lord directly. He was of lowly status, but because he had been particularly attentive to the lord's mood, the lord, who rarely met anyone, graciously agreed that day and summoned him immediately. As usual, Yoshihide wore a fragrant-dyed hunting outfit and a wilted eboshi, and with an even more difficult expression than usual, he bowed respectfully before the lord. Then, in a hoarse voice, he said this.

"This is the folding screen of Hell that I have mentioned before, and I have been diligently working on it day and night, and it has now been roughly completed."

"That is indeed a cause for celebration. I am also satisfied," said the lord, but there was an oddly weak tone in his voice, lacking in vigor.

"No, it is not a cause for celebration at all." Yoshihide said with a slightly irritated expression, keeping his eyes downcast. "While it has been roughly completed, there is one part that I still cannot depict."

"What, is there a part you cannot depict?" the lord was surprised.

"That is correct. Generally speaking, I cannot depict what I have not seen. Even if I could depict it, if I am not convinced, it is the same as being unable to depict it at all, isn't it?"

Upon hearing this, a mocking smile appeared on the lord's face.

"Then, if you are to paint the folding screen of Hell, you must see Hell."

"That is correct. However, during the great fire of the previous year, I witnessed the fierce flames of the hell of blazing heat. The flames of 'Yojiri Fudo' that I painted were actually inspired by that fire. You are familiar with that painting, aren't you?"

"But what about the sinners? The prison guards have never seen it, right?" The lord asked further, as if he did not hear Yoshihide's words at all.

“I have seen those bound by iron chains. I have also captured the figure of those tormented by the monstrous bird. Therefore, I will not let you say that I do not know the suffering of the sinners. And the jailers—” Yoshihide continued with a creepy smile. “The jailers have appeared in my dreams countless times. Sometimes as a bull-headed figure, sometimes as a horse-headed figure, or sometimes as a three-faced, six-armed demon, silently clapping their hands and coming to torment me, almost every day and night. —What I am trying to draw and cannot is not something like that.”

Even the lord must have been quite surprised by that. For a while, he simply glared at Yoshihide's face with irritation, but eventually, he furrowed his brow and said.

“Then, what is it that you cannot draw?”