19-21 (1)

by Mizukami Kyouka

Before the crossroads, I met a man selling Toyama's Hangontan, but I had already entered this path a step ahead.

"Oh, really?" The woman smiled and looked at the dappled horse. Her appearance was unbearably amusing.

She seemed so approachable that I couldn't help but ask, "Are you perhaps visiting this house?"

"No, I don't know it," she replied, and at that moment, her expression became solemn, as if she were a different person. I was speechless, and she sighed, finding a small old man under the horse's foreleg.

"It can't be helped," she said, beginning to untie her narrow sash. As one end threatened to drag on the ground, she paused briefly to gather it up.

"Ah, ah," the idiot said in a muffled voice, extending a lanky hand. The woman handed over the untied obi, and as if spreading a furoshiki cloth, placed the treasure on his weak knees as if protecting it.

The woman held her kimono collar, pressing it below her breasts, and quietly left the dirt floor, approaching the horse. As I watched in a daze, she reached out to the horse with her fingertips and stroked its mane two or three times.

She stood tall in front of the large nose, and her height seemed to have suddenly increased. The woman fixed her gaze, pursed her lips, and opened her brows, looking ecstatic. All her charm and coquetry were gone, and she had an aura that made one wonder if she was a god or a demon.

At that moment, the mountains behind and the peaks beyond, rising tall to the left, right, front, and back, each pointed their beaks and raised their heads, as if peering into the figure of the beautiful woman under the moon, who stood by the horse, with the old man waiting in this secluded world, and the somber air of the deep mountains enveloped them.

Feeling a lukewarm breeze, she bared her left shoulder, brought her right hand forward, held up the unlined kimono she was wearing around her swollen chest, and became a figure unentangled by mist.

The horse's skin on its back and belly slackened, sweat seemed about to pour down, and its stiff legs trembled limply. Just as I thought it had touched its muzzle to the ground and blown out a handful of white foam, it tried to fold its front legs.

At that moment, the woman placed her hand under her chin, and with the single garment she held in one hand, she lightly tossed it to cover the horse's eyes. The horse, startled, bucked and flipped onto its back. In the hazy moonlight, it seemed as if its skin was caught between its front legs, then it shed the garment and emerged from beneath its lower belly.

The old man did not miss that instant and pulled on the reins. The horse briskly ascended the mountain path with its strong legs, and with sounds of *shan, shan, shan, shanshan, shanshan*, it quickly receded from sight.

The woman had already pulled up her clothes and entered the veranda. Suddenly, as she reached for her obi, the idiot regretfully held her back, raising his hand as if to press against the woman's chest.

The woman roughly pushed him away and glared at him, causing the idiot to hang his head dejectedly. All the scenery appeared like a faint illusion in the dim light of the lantern, but as the firewood in the hearth flared up, the woman quickly ran inside. Just as I thought the moon was moving behind the clouds, I heard a horseman's song from afar.

Well, then, it was time for dinner. On the tray were mountain pickles, pickled ginger, boiled wakame, and miso soup with salted, unknown mushrooms. It was by no means luxurious, but it was quite a fine meal. I was hungry, and grateful for the extremely kind service, so I set the tray on my lap, propped my elbow, and happily watched while supporting my cheek.

The idiot on the veranda, ignored by everyone, perhaps could no longer bear it, and shuffled on his knees, bringing his bulging belly close to the woman. He sat cross-legged as if collapsing and repeatedly pointed at his own meal, staring at it.

“Uuuu, uuuu.”

“What is it? Eat later. Isn’t there a guest?”

The idiot made a pathetic face, twisted his mouth, and shook his head.

“No? Oh, well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Then, please eat together. Reverend, I beg your pardon.”

I instinctively put down my chopsticks and said, "Please don't trouble yourself, I'll gladly accept this wonderful meal."

"No, not at all, Reverend. You should eat with me later. You're such a difficult person," the woman said amiably, quickly preparing and setting out a similar meal.

Her way of serving rice was that of a splendid wife, yet there was a certain elegance about her, exuding the air of a noble household.

The idiot raised his dull eyes and stared at the meal, then looked around, muttering, "That, oh, oh, that."

The woman gazed at him intently and said, "Well, it's fine, isn't it? You can eat such things anytime. We have a guest tonight."

"Hmm, no, no," the idiot said, shaking his shoulders and looking as if he was about to burst into tears.

The woman looked utterly distressed, feeling pity for those around her. "Madam, I don't know what it is, but wouldn't it be better to do as he says? Your concern for me is rather distressing," she said politely.

The woman asked again, "Are you displeased? Is this bad?" As the idiot was about to cry, the woman, casting a resentful glance, took something in a bowl from a dilapidated cupboard and quickly placed it on the idiot's tray.

"Here," she said, deliberately feigning a pout, then forced a smile.

Now, I secretly watched, wondering if it would be a delicious stew of yellow snakes, or steamed gibbons, or even if the misfortune was light, a dried red frog that he would slurp with a wide mouth. What he grabbed, holding a bowl in one hand, was an old takuan radish.

And it wasn't chopped; it was a whole one cut into three pieces, which he held sideways in his mouth and softened.

Perhaps the woman found it difficult to handle him, for she looked at me furtively, her face reddening. Although it wasn't her nature, she shyly brought the corner of her knee towel to her mouth.

I see, this boy must be this. His body is plump and the color of takuan. Soon, he devoured his meal for no particular reason, and without saying it was hot, he exhaled with a heavy "huff, huff."

"What is it? I feel like it's stuck in my chest, and I don't want any at all, so I'll have it later," the woman said, clearing away the two trays without even picking up her chopsticks.