Twenty-five to Twenty-six (1)

by Mizukami Kyouka · 2026-04-01

A single stream of water, struggling to cling to the male waterfall as it flowed over the rocks, seemed to be experiencing the agony of being unable to exchange even a single drop in a world separated from it. Her form was emaciated, her appearance thin, and even the sound of her flowing water seemed different. Whether weeping or resentful, she was a pitifully gentle female waterfall.

Meanwhile, the male waterfall proudly displayed its power, crashing down majestically with the force to shatter stones and pierce the earth. The two waterfalls struck the rocks and split to the left and right, and the way the female waterfall's heart seemed to break was like a beautiful woman clinging to a man's knee, trembling and weeping. Just standing on the bank made my body tremble with such power that my flesh seemed to jump. Moreover, remembering that I had bathed with the woman from the isolated house yesterday, her figure emerged within the female waterfall, getting caught and sinking, then rising again. In the thousand tangled streams of water, her skin shattered into fragments, scattering like flower petals. Ah, I thought, and then her original face, chest, hands, and feet appeared in their complete form, floating and sinking, instantly carved, and then reappearing in a flash. Unable to bear it, I felt as if I had plunged headfirst into the waterfall and embraced the female waterfall tightly. However, when I came to my senses, the male waterfall continued to flow majestically, rumbling the earth. Ah, why does it not save her with that power? How heartless!

Rather than throwing myself into the waterfall and dying, I should return to the old isolated house. I hesitated, thinking that it was because of my impure desires that things had come to this. If I saw her face and heard her voice, there would be no problem, even if she and her husband slept in the same futon. Still, I decided to go back, thinking it was much better than sweating through ascetic training or ending up as a monk. As I released the stone and stood up, I felt a tap on my back from behind.

"Hey, Reverend," a voice called out. Given the time and my state of mind, I was startled and turned around, feeling guilty, only to find it was not an envoy of Yama but the old man.

When asked, "Did you sell the horse?" I was lightened, with a small bundle on my shoulder and a golden carp, about three shaku long, hanging from my hand. Its scales gleamed, and its tail looked as if it might move, suspended by a straw threaded through its jaw. As I stared silently, the old man fixed his gaze on my face and, with a creepy, knowing smirk, said,

"What are you doing? For a man of修行 (religious training) to be resting on the bank in this heat, isn't that a bit much? If you don't walk diligently, it's only five ri from last night's lodging to here. It's already time to go to the village and worship Jizo-sama. Did some worldly desire arise because you're infatuated with the young lady? No, you don't have to hide it. Even if my eyes are red, I can clearly see what's white or black. A normal human, after having the young lady's hand touch them and being offered that water, shouldn't still be human. They should have turned into a cow or a horse, a monkey or a toad, a bat, or something that flies or jumps. When you came up from the valley stream, your limbs and face were still human, which truly startled me. You, however, were saved because your resolve was so firm, which is admirable."

"What? You saw the horse I led away, didn't you? And then you met a peddler of Toyama's Hangontan on the mountain path to the isolated house, didn't you? That lecherous fellow long ago turned into a horse, and that horse became money at the horse market, and that money, yes, that transformed into this carp. It's my favorite, and it will be dinner. What do you take the young lady for?"

I interrupted him involuntarily.

"O-shonin?"

The shonin nodded and murmured.

“No, first I want you to listen. That lady in the isolated house, she was an old acquaintance, and I had some kind of connection with her. On the overflowing street at the crossroads where I was about to enter that dreadful demonic place, a farmer told me that it used to be a doctor's house. She was the daughter of that house. They say that at the time, there was nothing particularly unusual or rare in the entire Hida region, but the only strange thing worth mentioning was this doctor's daughter, who had been beautiful as a jewel since birth.

Her mother had puffy cheeks, droopy eyes, and a low nose, and possessed those venomous, sagging breasts commonly known as "sashi-chichi," yet how she grew up to be so beautiful was a mystery. As stories have told since ancient times, it was rumored that she was the type who would either have a white-feathered arrow pierce the ridge of her house, or catch the eye of a nobleman during a hunting expedition and be summoned to the palace.

Her father, the doctor, was a vain and arrogant man with sharp cheekbones and a beard, yet despite this, in the countryside, he would often suffer from eye irritation when rice husks got into his eyes during harvest. Since there were many cases of inflamed eyes, red eyes, and epidemic conjunctivitis, the doctor specialized a little in eye diseases, but he was completely useless when it came to internal medicine. When it came to surgery, he would merely dab water on his temples and coolly apply it to the wound.

Even a sardine's skylight comes from faith, and those whose lifespans were not yet exhausted would recover, so in a land where there was no Takean, Yosen, or Mokuzai, he prospered accordingly. Especially when his daughter was sixteen or seventeen, in the prime of her womanhood, it was said that the Yakushi-sama (Medicine Buddha) had been born into the doctor's house to help people, and devout men and women, sick men and women, flocked to him one after another.

The story goes that it all started when the young lady, who met her regular patients every day, would offer a kind word, asking, "Does your hand hurt, sir? How are you feeling?" and touch their hands with her soft palms. At first, it only worked for young men, but gradually it extended to the elderly, and later, even women patients recovered or at least found their pain lessened. Even when cutting out pus from a boil, the doctor would use a rusty scalpel, and the patients would writhe in agony and scream. But when the young lady came and pressed her chest tightly against their back, holding their shoulders, they were able to endure it.

Once, a hornet came and built a terrifyingly large nest on the old loquat tree in front of that thicket. At that time, there was a man named Kumazo, an apprentice to the doctor, who helped in the pharmacy, did cleaning, dug up potatoes in the vegetable garden, and even worked as a rickshaw puller in nearby areas, serving as a general handyman. He was about twenty-four or twenty-five years old then. He had stolen a bottle of a mixture of rare salt powder and single sarira, knowing that his master was stingy and he would be scolded if caught. He kept this on top of the cupboard with his leggings and hakama, and would secretly drink it little by little whenever he had a chance. It was he who discovered the beehive while cleaning the garden.

She came to the veranda and said with a cheerful voice, "Young lady, let me show you something interesting. I know it's rude to ask, but would you mind holding my hand? If you do, I'll plunge into that swarm of bees and actually grab them. Even if I get stung only where my hand touches, there won't be any pain. If I brush them away with a bamboo broom, the bees will scatter in all directions, but then they'll be out of control. I'd die instantly, you see."

She smiled and tried to force me to hold her hand. I was a little hesitant, but I was drawn in by her words and decided to follow her. Then, I heard a tremendous buzzing sound of insects. Soon, she returned, holding seven or eight hornets in her left hand. I could see the flapping of their wings and the movement of their legs. Among them, some bees were crawling out from between her grasping fingers.

"Well, if that god's hand touches it, even a bullet won't pass through," she said with full confidence. Her reputation spread in all directions, like a spider's web.

From that time on, perhaps sensing something, she often entrusted herself to a being that appeared idiotic and secluded herself in the mountains. Then, a mysterious change occurred, and as she aged, her divine powers became freely controllable. At first, it was a sensation of her entire body being pressed down, but gradually it spread to her feet and fingertips, and eventually, even at a distance, she no longer lost her way.