Island of the Corpse-Eating Butterflies, March 22nd, Part 2

And yet, memories of being with Katano keep popping up. I am not even sure if he was really by my side at that time. Why do I see hallucinations of Katano when I am the one who did that to him? Is it guilt or regret?

Thinking back on it now, no one else spoke to Katano. Katano only spoke to me. Yasu did not see him buying the ferry ticket or having it punched, either. How many cups of tea were served at Jogan-ji Temple or Shijiki Shrine, and what about the cushions? Was Katano really there?

No, I haven't confirmed Katano's existence with anyone else. Since I told him to go home, could it be that Katano, being foolishly obedient, has just been hiding and refusing to come out? If that were the case, is there any need for him to leave the Soryo mansion? It is his own home, so he should just go back there.

Hiding and refusing to come out is far too eccentric. If I wander around like this, it wouldn't be strange for Katano to suddenly appear. And, as always, he would apologize, saying he was sorry. Surely, Katano disappeared just to irritate Yasu.

The presence of the woman and the baby also weighs on my mind. Yasu tries to recall Ageha's appearance. The jet-black hair that seemed to ripple over her shoulders and face. The red clothes, of which only the knees were visible. The baby held in her arms. Did a woman named Ageha really exist?

In the eerie Soryo mansion, I would occasionally get chills when my name was called. Was that just tinnitus, or the noise of some beast or something else?

“Ridiculous...”

I said it out loud because I wanted to believe it was ridiculous.

I do not want to believe in paranormal phenomena. There must be other reasons or causes for such things. I just happened to be in conditions where I mistakenly identified them as paranormal.

While lost in thought, I arrived at Jogan-ji Temple, which lies beyond the stone steps.

I went around to the priest's living quarters built behind the main hall, called the temple keeper, and told her that I had received a call from the head priest.

The head priest came out at a trot immediately.

“Well now, I’ve been waiting for you. This is it, this is it.”

He said, holding up an old, gray booklet he was carrying.

I was shown into the tatami room and received the diary. It is an old, Japanese-bound book. The cover has “Wadatsu Diary” written in brush calligraphy. The paper is riddled with holes eaten by silverfish, and it is so deteriorated that it feels like it might tear if I open it too wide.

“The thing is, I can’t read the old cursive script. I thought you might be able to read it.”

Since I am good at reading hentaigana, I flip through the pages. There are no dates written, and it seems to be a collection of memos and random thoughts. However, since books from the Edo period do not have tables of contents, I have no choice but to read through the whole thing. I cannot just pick out the parts I want to read.

At a glance, there is nothing specifically written about the Shijiki butterfly.

However, the Wadatsu Diary contained quite a lot of folklore passed down in Wadatsu. It denies the legend of the Heike refugees—which Grandma Kanbe stubbornly believes in—as a falsified history, but instead, it records anecdotes that seem to have credibility.

It also described how a Heike princess who fled toward the end of the Yowa famine was treated cruelly by the people of Wadatsu and eventually became a guardian spirit. It was recorded in more detail than the story of the illegitimate child that Grandma Kanbe had told me.

The moment I recalled the dream that had sunk to the depths of Yasu's memory and congealed, a chill ran from my tailbone to the nape of my neck.

At the same time, I remembered the procession I had encountered in Wadatsu. The woman in the ichime-gasa hat and red uchigi robe, the baby, the Buddhist painter, the two fugitives, and finally the two islanders, all written about in the Wadatsu Diary. Exactly seven people. Yasu associated them with the 'Seven Misaki' he had researched.

The Seven Misaki are terrifying vengeful spirits, with similar entities derived from them in Shikoku, Kyushu, and the Chubu region, starting with Kochi Prefecture. While their names vary by region, I suspect 'Misaki' is the original term. If you are struck by a Misaki wind, you will develop a fever and fall ill. If you encounter them at a river, they are called River Misaki. Some regions consider them synonymous with ship ghosts. They are also thought of as 'encounter gods,' and it is said that misfortune occurs if you meet them. The number of people involved varies, such as the Seven Misaki, the Seven Pilgrims, or the Seven Children. Their origins differ, but the disasters they cause after an encounter are much the same.

If such things are what are called 'Osaki-sama,' then was it an Osaki-sama that I encountered in Wadatsu? The Osaki-sama had not noticed me. If they don't notice you, can you really say you've 'encountered' them?

Yasu shook his head slightly. He denied it so many times that even the head priest didn't notice.

As I continued reading the anecdotes in the Wadatsu Diary, I found a story about a Buddhist painter named Tehu and Sojun. 'Tehu' is an archaic word, pronounced 'cho' in modern Japanese. Somehow, it reminded me of a woman named Butterfly, and a woman who possessed the name of a butterfly. Ageha always wore red clothes and held a baby. Kano said she was her younger sister, but was that really true...? Could it be that she didn't exist from the beginning, and it was a preconceived notion that influenced Yasu's perception and vision when Kano called her Ageha? In fact, Yasu didn't even know Ageha's face, nor had he ever heard her voice.

Yasu carefully turned the pages of the diary. It was written that Himaro and Tsuneyo were his ancestors, that they had managed Wadatsu as the heads of the family, that they had been killed by vengeful spirits and joined that procession, and furthermore, that they had willingly offered human sacrifices to the sea goddess, which brought about a good catch every time.

That small shrine was dedicated to a goddess who demanded sacrifices. I scanned the Wadatsu Diary with intense focus, looking for any mention of the Shijiki butterfly, the goddess's divine messenger.

On one page, Yasu stopped turning. Even though the previous entries had been written in a detached, matter-of-fact manner, suddenly, in messy, cursive script, it read: 'Thou shalt offer a sacrifice to the goddess of the shrine. If thou dost not, disaster shall befall thee.'

Wondering what on earth this meant, I looked at the next page, but nothing was written; it was blank.

What is a sacrifice...? Yasu pondered. What does the goddess want? This Wadatsu Diary stated that Himaro had offered humans to the goddess. It said the goddess accepted the drowned humans and brought forth a bountiful catch.

What kind of disaster was written about in the Wadatsu Diary? I could find no mention of it. Does a disaster even occur? After all, ever since the whale washed ashore to Himaro and the people of Wadatsu, Himaro had continued to offer humans, and it was even written that he went so far as to kidnap people to satisfy his desire for a good catch. Therefore, the sacrifices should never have ceased.

They should never have ceased?

Then, a doubt arose. The era in which Himaro and the others lived was likely around the Genpei War, the late Heian period. The Kusozu (Nine Phases of Death) paintings mentioned the second year of Juei, around 1183. The whale washed ashore around 1181, during the Yowa famine, and Tehu likely fled long before the Battle of Dan-no-ura. Perhaps erasing the year on the neck was related to that. Could it be that Himaro and the others intentionally falsified the time when Tehu and the others fled to the beginning of the Yowa famine? Did the islanders feel guilty for killing Tehu for some reason, and did they hide the truth by falsifying the dates and mixing it with other legends?

Surely, that reason must be related to the goddess's sacrifice.

From that time on, Himaro and the others offered humans to the goddess, and Wadatsu had prospered in a small way without any disasters. Originally, the number of islanders in Wadatsu must have been small. Therefore, one day, they finally reached a breaking point within the island, and Wadatsu itself fell into a crisis of disappearing. Thus, the choice Himaro and the others made was to kidnap people.

What if nothing has changed between those days and now?

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