[Digital Night Tales] Mio Chapter #2: A Letter to a Creator Who Has Lost Their Peace of Mind

Mio walks through the residential area while looking at a map.

My heart is racing.
Is it always this exciting to show a mentor how much you have grown?

Though I call them a mentor, it is not because they were my teacher in a classroom.
When I was a child, I was sent into service, and things were not going well for me.

No one understood me.

I didn't know what I was doing, or what I was capable of.
I gradually began to close myself off.

But that night on the train, my teacher opened my heart.
And, at their suggestion, I decided to become a teacher myself.

*

I climb the dark stairs.
A single bare lightbulb with a dim glow hangs from the high ceiling.
The wooden stairs creak with every step I take.

--Teacher, it's Mio.

"Come in."

--Excuse me.

My teacher was at a desk placed on the tatami mats.
They did not turn around.

I sit in the corner near the entrance.
I sit in seiza and place my hands on my knees.

I hear the sound of a G-pen gliding over manuscript paper.

"Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch."

The room is permeated with the scent of tobacco.
It is a smell I should dislike, but knowing it is my teacher's scent makes me want to take a deep breath.
......But the air is not good.

--'I should open a window.'

I think to myself.

The bookshelves are overflowing with books.
The low table for guests is also piled high with books laid flat.

"What is it? Say something."

My teacher's words broke the silence.

My teacher still has their back turned to me.

--Sensei, it has been a long time.

...
The sound of the G-pen does not stop.

After a few seconds of silence, a reply comes.

"Ah, it has been a while."

The sound of the G-pen does not stop.
Occasionally, ink is added from the inkwell.

"I am listening."

That is the kind of person he is.
Just from this, one can tell he is a person who carries loneliness on his back.

--Sensei, I am going to school.
I am studying education and classical literature.

"Education, is it?
...I, too, once taught English at the Naval Engineering College. As a contract instructor."

Sensei answers while keeping his back turned.

"Classical literature... Why do you study that?"

--Sensei, your works sometimes use classical literature as a subject, and even when they don't, they somehow harbor the atmosphere of classical literature.

...

--Sensei, I love your works.

I love the writing style of your works.
Your novels are very short, but they are meticulously calculated.
An overflowing vocabulary that few novelists could ever hope to reach.
A worldview that feels somewhat detached.
And even in works where no women appear, there is a woman somewhere.

"You observe well."

"You like classical literature.

...Then, what do you think of hell or the Sanzu River?"

--Hell or the Sanzu River!?

"In classical literature, they are often used as motifs. Let me narrow the question; the Sanzu River will suffice."

—The Sanzu River.
In Buddhism, it is the river that separates this world from the afterlife.
I recall it got its name because there are three places to cross, depending on one's karma from their previous life.
That is how I remember it.

Good people cross by a bridge, those with minor sins cross at the shallows, and those with grave sins cross at the deeps...
And they say there is an old woman by the riverbank who strips the clothes off the dead.

“That is a textbook answer; I am not asking about that.

What I am asking about is the 'depth' of that river.”

—The depth, you say?

The classics state that the deeps where the grave sinners cross have high waves and are so deep that one cannot reach the bottom, but...

“That is not the depth of the water, but the depth of human 'karma'.

The Sanzu River is not something the dead cross.
The living make the dead cross it.

Those left behind think of the deceased.

That person was a good soul, so they must have crossed the bridge.
That person was sinful, so they might be swallowed by the muddy torrent right now.

The murmuring of the river is the sound of the living's 'guilt' and 'lingering attachment'.
The hells and afterlives depicted in the classics are all surprisingly human.

Those are not worlds after death.
They are mirrors that reflect the hearts of humans in this world exactly as they are.

Read the 'Konjaku Monogatarishu'.

It is overflowing with the earthy egoism of people standing still, unable to cross the river.”

—I believe classical literature views human 'karma' through stereotypes.

Classical literature harbors the shadows of Buddhist tales.
Its worldview seems to look down upon this world from somewhere on the other side.

Though I study classical literature, I believe people live beautifully in their own respective worlds.

In the real world, I think one does not need to feel 'karma' so deeply. At least, that is what I think.

“Beautiful? No.
Human beings are foolish to the core.
Someone like me is the height of human folly. I am just a fool.”

—Teacher.
They say there are three ways to go: the deeps, the shallows, and the bridge.
I interpret these 'ways to go' as 'ways of life'.

Crossing the depths is certainly dangerous. But if you overcome it, you become stronger.
The easy path is safe. However, those who take it may be weak when faced with hardship.
Yet, there is no high or low status in how one chooses to live.
Rather, aren't the people who look at others' ways of life and mock them the ones who are truly full of ego?

“...So you interpret the three 'ways of going' as human 'ways of living.' Interesting. That is one way to think about it.”

The teacher stopped writing and finally turned to look at me.
‘Eyes that see through the human heart’
The teacher's gaze was sharp.

“Then, what do you think of the width of the Sanzu River?
The width of the river in Buddhism that those burdened with karma must cross. It is by no means narrow.”

—The width of the river, you say?
...In legends and the like, it is said to be hundreds of ri, or perhaps a distance so vast it boggles the mind.

So shrouded in mist that the other shore is impossible to see...

But, if one does not view 'karma' as something so heavy,
I think that width is not meant to drive people to despair.

It feels like a gentle distance,
a kind of 'grace period' to allow one to slowly forget the memories of this world.

“Your words are like white lilies.

A purity so precarious that if the stem were to break, it would easily be stained with mud.

The reason the river is so wide is because it is so difficult for humans to cross over into the 'world of another.'

You said that people live beautifully in their own respective worlds.

That is correct.
Everyone is locked away in their own beautiful castle of subjectivity.
But, conversely, that means we are all cold egoists who only want to see the world that is convenient for us.

The moment you step out of that castle and try to truly understand another, what lies there is an unfathomable chasm of the spirit.

The width of the Sanzu River is the 'absolute distance' that lies between one human and another.

We cannot leave our own worlds to reach the other's shore.
We simply watch the phantom-like other from beyond the swirling mist.

To live beautifully is to be lonely forever.”

—*

—‘...The teacher is in hell right now.’

That is what I felt.

Just as an actor can be consumed by their role, this person has begun to live within the hell they are depicting.
There is no sense of ease in their expressions or words.

--Sensei... is your writing going well?

"Why do you ask so suddenly... My mind is overflowing with things I want to write. I can't write them all. I have a pile of unfinished manuscripts."

...A pile of unfinished manuscripts.
Looking around the room again, I see manuscript paper everywhere, with large X's drawn over them after only a few lines were written.

A moment ago, they called themselves a fool.
Now, they say they are overflowing with things they want to write.

Self-denial and self-affirmation are switching in short cycles.
I can feel that they are in a very dangerous state.

Taking up the pen for self-expression is fine, but being driven by the pen is never a good state to be in.

*

"Now, at last, let us talk about hell..."

--Sensei!

I interrupted Sensei.

Sensei's words hung in the air.

They turned a stern gaze toward me.

"...Oh?"

A brief silence flowed between us.

"To interrupt me... Speak, tell me what you wish to say."

--Sensei?

Are you not exhausted?
It is easy to imagine that you have a nature that pursues the truth to the very end.

However... that is not good for your mental state.

The air in this room seems stale.
Let's open a window.

I open the shoji screen and the storm shutters of the study.

Light from outside pours into the room, which until now had been lit only by the lamp on the desk.
The damp air of the room is replaced by fresh air illuminated by the sunlight.

“...It’s bright.”

—I shall go brew some tea.

I head to the kitchen.

The old kitchen.

I strike a match and light the gas stove.
I boil water and return with a tray holding the hot water, tea leaves, a teapot, and teacups.

Sensei is leaning against the frame of the open window, arms crossed. He is gazing at the scenery outside out of the corner of his eye.

I sit on the tatami mat and place the tray beside me.

A quiet moment passes.

“...”

Sensei turns his gaze toward me.

“...What are you doing? Just smiling won't brew the tea.”

—I am waiting for the right moment.

“...The right moment?”

—Yes, Sensei. This tea in your house is a rather high-grade sencha, isn't it?

It tastes best when brewed at about 50 to 60 degrees Celsius.

Tea that is too hot loses its umami.

Waiting for the right moment and intentionally spending time in silence calms the heart.

Please rest your hands, Sensei.

A quiet moment passes.

The chirping of birds, the sound of fresh green leaves rustling, the scent of the wind.

I hope your heart can find some relief as well...

--Now, let's pour.

I pour a little bit into each of the two teacups, alternating between them. I do not fill one cup completely before moving on to the next.

"If it were me, I would fill one, then the other."

--That is exactly what you shouldn't do.

If you fill only one side, you might find yourself running short on what you need to pour into the other.

Isn't consideration for others much the same?

Besides...

"Besides?"

--Seeing such care taken, the heart of the person waiting also finds peace.

Now, please.

I place the tea poured into the cups onto the table.

*

--Now, please.

At Mio's invitation, I leave the window. I sit down across from Mio, with the guest table between us.

Both teacups are filled with the exact same amount of tea.

I enjoy the aroma of the tea offered to me and take a sip. I close my eyes and savor the sweetness and the bitterness.

"......Mio is right."

I think to myself.

Mio places the teacup in her left palm and holds it with her right hand as she drinks the tea.
The girl's beautiful figure was precious.

Mio stands up and heads toward the window.

—It is a nice breeze.

Mio's hair sways in the soft wind.
Mio's voice is pleasant.

"It's dazzling."

Mio turns around.

—Is it dazzling?

"Yes, it is dazzling."

What was dazzling was not just the light outside.

…Mio, a gentle light.

[Digital Night Tales] #2 A Letter to Creators Who Have Lost Their Peace of Mind - End

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