Moon of Sagano #44 Genjo

Sent to Tang 9 Genjo

Long ago, there was a young man who was enjoying a brief moment of freedom in a foreign market.


“Give me that, and that too,”

he said in clumsy Tang Chinese as he bought some jujube candies. He immediately popped them into his mouth, letting them dissolve slowly. As he enjoyed the sweet and sour taste spreading in his mouth, he walked through the bustling West Market, where various sounds echoed—the rhythmic, lighthearted Tang songs used by shopkeepers to call in customers, and the performances of street musicians playing the erhu. Suddenly, he spotted a schoolmate in the crowd.

“Hey, Kukai!”

he shouted. Tachibana no Hayanari started running like a puppy, but before he had taken even two or three steps, he tripped over a pebble, lost his balance, and fell backward.
At the same time, a thief who had been waiting for an opening snatched his purse,
and the impact of being shoved sent the cloth-wrapped instrument he was carrying on his back flying through the air.

The one who saved his friend from this triple disaster was Kukai, who had rushed over with agility that seemed beyond a normal person. He first twisted the wrist of the thief he had caught up to, snatched back the purse, turned around to grab Hayanari by the shoulder to pull him up, and then caught the falling cloth bundle with his free left hand with a soft thud.

The people in the market were initially stunned by the sight of the small monk kneeling on the ground with Hayanari in one hand and the instrument in the other. They watched in silence for a while, but eventually, they praised Kukai’s actions with loud cheers and thunderous applause.

“...We stand out too much here. Let’s go back,”
Kukai said, his face bright red with embarrassment, and he led Hayanari back to Ximing Temple as if fleeing.

“That is why, when a young nobleman from a foreign land wanders around the West Market carrying an instrument without any attendants, things like this happen!
In this country, that’s practically the same as saying, ‘Please, go ahead and steal from me!’ The common sense here is different from your homeland! Do you understand!?”

Dansho, a Tang monk who served as a caretaker for the Japanese envoys staying at Ximing Temple, pointed out Hayanari’s lack of crisis management and lectured him in fluent Japanese. Hayanari, who had been hanging his head and acting solemn at first, waited for the lecture to pause before looking up.

“Well, but Chang'an is a scary place, isn't it?”

Seeing him scratching his head in a truly laid-back tone, Dansho thought,

Ah, he doesn't get it at all.

Recalling that this was the fourth time he had given the same lecture, he sighed deeply.

Beside Hayanari, Kukai said,

“You need to bow your head lower and apologize properly, Hayanari-sama! I am so sorry, this gentleman is of noble blood and is quite detached from the real world...”

It was Kukai who apologized on his behalf.

Ever since they entered the temple, Hayanari had been sobbing, saying, “I don’t understand the language, so I don’t know what I should be studying at the school!”
(Dansho wondered, 'Then why didn't you learn Tang Chinese in your homeland?')

“In that case, why not study calligraphy or music, which can communicate with a master even without speaking? What instrument are you good at?”

“I like the koto... I see, then I will study calligraphy and the koto!”

Recalling how Kukai had been consulting with him and taking care of him every step of the way, he said,

“You really have it tough...” he said to Kukai, offering him heartfelt words of sympathy. Then, trying to change the subject,

“Is this the biwa you received as a reward for excellent grades from your music master? It is truly beautiful...”

he said, captivated by the black-lacquered biwa Hayanari had brought back from his master’s house. Hayanari nodded and said,

“Apparently, it’s a family heirloom of my master’s house and has a very rare pattern from the West.”

He held the biwa, which featured mother-of-pearl inlay of two white elephants lifting their trunks and one leg between the four strings, and showed a proud smile for the first time in a while.

“However, while I am happy to have received it, I am training in the koto, and it is customary for monks to play the biwa. So, Kukai,”

“Yes?”
“I will give you this biwa, called Genjo.”

“Yes?” Kukai’s voice went up at the end, and he was clearly flustered.

“Um, isn't music something for the nobility to enjoy... For someone like me who has only been chanting sutras and wandering in the mountains, music is...”

Kukai tried to gently decline, but Hayanari said,
“I will teach you how to play it myself,” and after half-forcing him to hold the Genjo, Hayanari turned to Dansho.

“...So, would you mind if this person made some noise with his clumsy biwa playing for a while after the evening services are over?”
His bow to ask for permission was such a graceful gesture that Dansho, who was deeply impressed in his heart, thinking, 'Ah, this man is indeed well-bred,'

“That will be fine. Music will be a comfort to those who live in this temple,”
he said with a broad smile, granting permission.
From then on, Hayanari’s twenty-day intensive training for Kukai started with the basics, like the structure of the biwa, how to hold the plectrum, and the musical scales, as if he were teaching a child. However, once Kukai was able to play simple pieces by the tenth day, Hayanari suddenly became strict.

“The tone of the biwa is the foundation of the orchestra, and if that sound is bad, it will ruin the performance of all the other players! What do you think you are doing!?”

He would shout so fiercely that his voice could be heard.

The monks of Ximing Temple and the envoys living under the same roof thought, 'Isn't this too harsh for Kukai, who comes home exhausted after studying Sanskrit at Lishan Temple during the day?' But as Kukai’s skills became more solid,

when it got dark, they would bring sake and snacks to enjoy the music, surrounding Kukai and Hayanari.
“We won’t get in the way of your practice, just let us listen. Somehow... while listening, I can forget the anxiety and impatience of life here.”

The envoys would say this and close their eyes tightly while listening, lost in their own thoughts, and sometimes even tearing up as they remembered their homelands.

When the practice ended, Hayanari would bring out two cups and say,

“I thought you wouldn't have any resistance to this sake,” and after pouring a little of the wine he bought at the market, he placed it on Kukai’s palm. Kukai said,

“It has a floral scent,” and after taking a lick, he said, “It’s sweet...! I feel like I’ll be fine with this sake,” and drank the cup in one go.
“Haha... you’ll get drunk if you rush like that,” Hayanari laughed and refilled the cups. Eventually, as the alcohol took effect, he said,
“From here on, this is a story I can only tell in a foreign land,” he emphasized, then said,

“You must have wondered why a nobleman’s son like me would risk his life to study in this Tang country, right? Haha... I understand.”

Nobles and officials do it for advancement, and monks do it to learn the latest Buddhism; the reasons are set.

“My great-grandfather was the imperial prince Katsuragi-o, also known as Tachibana no Moroe, but in my grandfather’s generation, we were falsely accused, and now the Tachibana house has fallen. My father, Iri-i, died five years ago.”

“The people around me probably think I volunteered for the mission to Tang with the ambition of reviving the Tachibana clan.”

“But that’s not it. The truth is... I am running away from my homeland, from the ugliness of aristocratic politics.”
“Kukai, I have grown up receiving contempt and ridicule that never surfaced since I was a child.”

“As a member of the imperial family by賜姓 (bestowed surname), I am treated politely on the surface because of my lineage, but once you are on the losing side of a political struggle, your life is lighter than paper.”
“My grandfather, Naramaro, was accused of treason,”

“and was beaten to death by Fujiwara no Nagate, Kudara no Konishikikyo, and Funa no O, who could not defy Fujiwara no Nakamaro. Of course, it was a false accusation.”
“I think now that it must have been painful for my father to live by fawning over such people.”

“I was born with a nature more sensitive to others' feelings than most, and whenever I returned from crowded places, I would invariably vomit and fall ill.”

“The Onmyoji consulted by my father replied, ‘Hayanari-sama has a constitution that easily absorbs people’s malice. If things continue like this, he will not live long among the deeply sinful nobles.’”

“When my father asked what he should do,”

“‘Music, especially stringed instruments, purifies the body of evil spirits. And raise him by letting him touch as many beautiful things as possible.’”

Just as the Onmyoji recommended, my father hired the best masters to teach me music. As my skills improved, I regained normal health.

However, as I grew older, I realized that my position was just that of a fallen noble with good blood, and I was struck by such melancholy that I didn't even want to be alive.

I avoided people more and more, immersing myself in the pursuit of beautiful things like books and paintings, and came to be called a young master who was bad at socializing.

Ah, how dirty this world is, created by people’s true intentions.

When I was 18, living while thinking, 'Is there nothing left to do but give up and wait for death?', a light shone into my life.

It was when I went to deliver food to the residence of my late uncle, Tachibana no Kiyotomo. The sun of the melting snow illuminated the corridor of the wing where the residence was, and a girl came out from inside.

I had never seen such a beautiful princess before... skin as white as snow and cool, refined features.

It was a beauty that could be described as pure and clear. Soon after, the princess was scolded by her mother, Taguchi-hime, for coming out into the corridor and was locked in her room.

I later learned from my father that the princess was my cousin, four years my junior, Kachiko,

“That princess is someone who will eventually be presented to the Imperial Prince. You must never do anything reckless like sneaking into her bedchamber!”

he warned me carefully.
A year later, I heard that Kachiko had been summoned by the Imperial Prince and was receiving special favor.
Hehe... it’s an outrageous story, isn't it? Kukai.

Indeed, Kukai thought, a confession of being in love with the Imperial Prince’s favorite concubine is something that can only be heard under the sky of this Tang country, in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep.

“Then, the reason Hayanari-sama crossed the sea was... for that princess.”

Hayanari nodded, and said,

“When the Imperial Prince, who is Kachiko’s husband, is decided as the heir to the throne,

I will protect that princess as her maternal relative.”

And for the first time, I had a goal in life. For that, I will do anything, even climb the social ladder. When the talk of the mission to Tang came up, I volunteered first, and now I am here drinking with you... Life is a strange thing.

“I truly think so.”

Hayanari, who was getting sleepy as the alcohol took effect, put away his cup and said,

“Hey Kukai, even if a person carries despair in their heart so deep that they don't even want to live for today, if they can find a glimmer of beauty in this world, they can somehow manage to live on...”

he said, and went back to his room.

The twentieth night was a beautiful night with a full moon. Hayanari decided to place his koto in the temple square and play music with Kukai’s biwa.
Not only the envoys and temple monks but also the local residents came to see this impromptu moon-viewing banquet out of curiosity.

“Well, the moon is clear and beautiful,” he greeted in clumsy Tang Chinese, and Hayanari signaled to Kukai, who had lowered his hips and prepared the biwa, and they matched their breathing.

Everyone listened, forgetting to breathe, to the melody created by the perfect harmony between the tone clearer than the moonlight falling and illuminating the night curtain white, and the sweet sound of the biwa strummed between the notes.

Ah, Hayanari-sama. There are things you only understand when you match sounds like this.

Those who play music or sing songs,
those who write waka or lyrics,
those who paint pictures or decorate with flowers...

Anyone who tries to embody beauty in this world

must be empty-hearted.

If there is even a shred of ambition in the heart of one who tries to decorate beauty, the moon of the heart will become clouded,

and eventually, that will easily be conveyed to others.

Hayanari-sama’s tone is truly the tone of an empty heart, well done to have reached this far!

When the performance, which lasted about a quarter of an hour (30 minutes), ended and Hayanari lifted his face with a sigh,

“Kukai, why are you crying?”
he asked in a puzzled voice. It wasn't just Kukai; all the listeners around were either wiping their eyes or even sobbing.

Wondering if he had done something, Hayanari tilted his head, then turned to Kukai and said admonishingly,

“I’m fine on my own now... so don’t worry, you should also go on your own for the important things in life. You’ll end up on bad terms if you try to force Reisen-dono to go to Qinglong Temple.”

Kukai, whose inner worries had been hit right on the mark, wiped his tears after putting away the Genjo,

“I’m going to apologize to Reisen-han now,” he said, and left the square.

Kukai found Reisen, the monk who was weeping the most at the sound of the music, with his forehead and hands pressed to the ground at the back entrance, but

“I’m sorry... Kukai, I’m sorry. It’s impossible for me to say I’ll return in two years! I don’t have your youth or ambition. I’ve found a reason to live in this country...”

Hearing this whisper, he couldn't help but hide in the shadows.

“It seems Reisen has been ‘enticed’ by the two Tripitaka masters,” whispered Shimei, a Tang monk from Ximing Temple, to Kukai from behind.

“To put it briefly, it’s like this...”
“Tripitaka Master Prajna thought of choosing a successor for his project, the translation of the Mahayana Mahaparinirvana Sutra, from the excellent monks attending Lishan Temple.”

Kukai and Reisen, you two were candidates.
However, Tripitaka Master Munishiri thought, 'That would be poaching a foreign student monk, wouldn't that anger Japan? If you’re going to invite someone, it’s better to choose one,' and he chose and persuaded Reisen, who was older. As a result, Reisen fell for it.

I see, Reisen-han’s somewhat distant attitude over the past month wasn't because I invited him to go to Qinglong Temple together, but...

It was because he had decided in his heart to stay with Tripitaka Master Prajna instead of returning home.

“Hey Kukai, you are still young, but Reisen is in his mid-forties. Even if he returns home and succeeds, how many more years can he live? If he is recognized by the leading expert in sutra translation and shown a glorious path, rather than returning home...”

He cut his words there, patted Kukai on the shoulder, and said,

“Well, even for someone as smart as you, there are people’s feelings that you won’t understand until you get older.”
After saying that, Shimei left the scene.

Kukai looked at Reisen’s shadow, which continued to weep under the moonlight,

Reisen-han, I am truly sorry for not knowing your feelings... he apologized from the bottom of his heart.

I will go to Qinglong Temple alone.

Postscript
Hayanari, who seems to be saying, “Man, NY is a really scary place.”
Hayanari, who seems to be saying, “The bass (biwa) sound tightens the entire band’s performance!”