July-September (2)

by Mizukami Kyouka · 2026-03-31

The reason humanity perishes is not because the thin skin of the earth breaks and fire rains from the sky, nor because a great ocean surges forth. It begins with the Hida forest being covered in leeches, and ultimately, everyone will swim like black insects in blood and mud. That, I vaguely thought, is the world of generational change.

This forest, too, was unremarkable at the entrance, but once inside, its appearance completely changed. Further in, the trees must already be rotting from their roots, turning into mountain leeches. There's no hope of survival; this is where I'm destined to die, I realized, and the useless thought that came to mind was because I was nearing my end.

If I'm going to die anyway, I decided to take one more step forward and at least glimpse a corner of the great swamp of blood and mud that the world's people never even dream of. I had no room to feel any revulsion. My whole body itched, and sweating like pearls, I scratched and pulled at myself indiscriminately, walking as if in a frenzied dance.

At first, I felt as if my body had grown a size thicker, and the itching was unbearable, but gradually I felt myself growing gaunt, and the pain intensified. Moreover, the relentless leeches attacking me had already made me dizzy, and I was on the verge of collapsing. It was at the exit of the leech forest that I saw a faint moon in the far distance, as if I had just emerged from a tunnel.

No, when I went out under the blue sky, I forgot everything and threw my body onto the mountain path as if to say, "Break, shatter into dust." From then on, I rubbed myself against the ground with anything—gravel, needles, whatever—and, dragging the corpses of a dozen leeches, I leaped five or six yards ahead and stood still.

Are they making a fool of me? In the surrounding mountains, cicadas chirped, and the forest, poised to become a great swamp of blood and mud, loomed. The sun was setting diagonally, and the bottom of the valley was already dark.

If it came to this, he would surely die instantly even if he became a wolf's prey, and the path sloped gently downwards. The boy, out of tune, shouldered his bamboo staff and scurried away.

If it weren't for the indescribable suffering of being tormented by leeches—whether it was pain, itchiness, or ticklishness—he might have been so happy that he would have walked alone through the mountain pass of Hida, chanting sutras and performing a heretical dance. He began to realize a lot about the world, wondering if he should crush some Seishintan and apply it to the wounds. Although scratching certainly brought him back to life, what had become of the medicine seller from Toyama? From the looks of it, he must have long since turned into blood and sunk into the mud. On a day when a mere skin-and-bones corpse lay in a dark spot in the forest, and hundreds of greedy, base animals swarmed to gnaw even the bones, pouring vinegar would be a futile gesture of concern.

While he was thinking such thoughts, the gentle slope proved to be quite long.

After descending it completely, he heard the sound of a river and saw an earthen bridge, about one ken in length, spanning it.

Hearing the sound of the stream in the valley, I thought it would feel good to invert the leeches I had too many of and throw them in, letting them soak in the water, but then I considered that if they were to break while crossing, it would be what it would be.

Without thinking it dangerous, he crossed the bridge. It wobbled a little, but he got over it without difficulty. Another slope awaited him on the other side. This time, it was an uphill climb. What a tremendous effort.