Hoichi the Earless [Episode 2] The Voice Picking Up Shells (4)

Hoichi and the monk wander the Keta beach, where grudges swirl—

Click here for the beginning

Click here for the previous episode

Chapter 7: "The Fraying of Voices"

The night at Keta beach was wrapped in a silence so profound that even the sound of the waves seemed to be swallowed up.
Hoichi sat down near the shadow of a rock, resting his biwa on his knees.
With his face cast downward, he looked like a memorial tower gazing at the moon, and his mere presence made the atmosphere tense.

—The wind had stopped.
—The tide had receded.
—The time to speak the voice had come.

Hoichi's fingers slowly touched the strings.

Ben—

A low, murky resonance echoed as if sinking to the bottom of the earth.
Then, a quiet voice leaked out as if breathing.

“The sound of the Gion Shoja bells—”

Ben, porororon...

“Echoes the impermanence of all things—”

Poro... poron...

“The color of the Sala flowers reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline—”

The narration and the sound overlapped, soaking into the night.
Hoichi's "The Tale of the Heike" was not merely a war chronicle.
It was a requiem containing the sorrow and regret of nameless souls that must be passed on.

“The proud do not last long—”

“Like a dream on a spring night—”

“Even the fierce will eventually perish—”

“Just like dust before the wind—”

The sound of the biwa enveloped the beach like ripples.
Under a sky where even the moonlight could not reach, Hoichi's eyes stared into the void.

Poro poro...
Ben, pon...

Then—the monk,
Wearing a sedge hat, his ink-dyed robes melting into the night. In his hand, a wooden fish of Hannya.

The monk speaks.

“To narrate is to awaken sunken souls.
But when voices that sink without being told pile up... they become a fraying in this world.”

“A fraying... you say?”

Hoichi's voice overlapped as if stroking the lingering sound of the biwa.

“A tear... or sometimes called the ‘Gate of Hell.’
When voices and souls overflow with resentment—that gate tears open.”

◇

At that moment, far across the sea, in the distant offing—

Goooooon...
Goooooon...
Goooooon...

A heavy, dull sound that seemed to crawl from the bottom of the earth echoed.

“...This is...”

Hoichi stiffened.

“...It is still just a sign. The gate will not open after three tolls. But if the sound grows higher...”

The monk quietly repositioned the wooden fish to his chest.

“If the gate opens, the demons of hell will appear.
They are different from the ‘demons’ possessed by vengeful spirits. They are close to gods or Buddhas... they are messengers of judgment.”

Beyond the sea, the waves churned.
The moon hid behind the clouds, and the night grew one degree deeper.

◇

The night tide was coming in from afar.
The sound of the waves gradually changed, becoming faster and more intense, like a pounding heartbeat.

Hoichi gently placed his fingers on the strings of the biwa.
A cold sea breeze stroked his cheek.

“—Ben”

The first note rang out as if tearing through the night.
The silence was drawn into that sound.

Hoichi's lips trembled.

“The sound of the Gion Shoja bells, echoes the impermanence of all things...”

His clear voice melted into the night as if overlapping with the sound of the biwa.
The sound of the tide faded away, and the surroundings became a world of only the biwa and the narration.

“The color of the Sala flowers reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline...”

The monk slowly took out his wooden fish.
“Poku... poku...” As he struck it quietly, he closed his eyes and began to chant a sutra.

“Kanji zai bosatsu, gyo jin hannya haramita ji...”

The low, overlapping voice of the Heart Sutra intersected with the wooden fish.
The biwa, the sutra, and the narration. They were being woven into the night beach.

At that moment—
Someone crawled out from the edge of the tide.

It was Moritsugu.
However, his figure was somewhat hazy, almost like a shadow.

“I am... who was I... where did my... voice... go...”

His voice was multi-layered; it was not just one.
It was as if many memories were melting together, overlapping and echoing.

Behind him, another thin shadow stood.

It was Ofuku.

She reached out, dragging her wave-drenched feet as she approached Moritsugu.

“...Moritsugu-san... please return Orui...”
“...I can still hear that child's voice...”

At those words, Moritsugu's body stopped dead.
Eventually, he turned his face slowly.

That face still retained the traces of the warrior he once was.
It was a gaze that mixed strength and fragility, as if tracing a bloodline.

“...Orui...”
“That name... indeed... Taira no Moritsugu, within... me...”

Moritsugu's voice trembled.
It was proof that he had finally begun to realize the name “Taira no Moritsugu.”

Hoichi's biwa, as if responding to that—

“Ben...”

Once again, a single note echoed in the night sky.

And the monk's voice quietly overlapped.

“When souls that cannot speak gather, a tear opens. The Gate of Hell, you must not forget...”

The waves swelled, and seashells scattered on the sandy beach, trembling as if trying to say something.

Chapter 8: "A Hundred Mouths, A Thousand Whispers"

◇

The sea was—groaning.

It was not just the sound of waves.
The swelling of the water resonated heavily, like a distant earthquake.
Even though the wind had stopped, the waves neither receded nor approached; they simply continued to groan in place.

Hoichi stood in the middle of the beach.
Holding his biwa to his back, he closed his eyes quietly and listened intently.

There was a whispering.
A thousand whispers. A hundred mouths.
The voices of people who should have vanished were mingling with the tide, seeping out from under the sand, from within the wind, and from the beach itself.

The priest stood beside him.
In his hand was the Hannya wooden fish.

“...It is coming.”

With those words, the air tore open.

The color of the sky bled as if deep ink had been dripped into it, and far out on the open sea, a black “fissure” appeared.
The boundary between sky and sea twisted unnaturally, and the rift gradually began to take the shape of a “gate”.

GONG
GONG
GOOOONG...
KIIIIIIIIIIIIIN
The sound of the bell and a high-pitched ringing like tinnitus resonated in the pit of his stomach.

“It is the gate of hell.”

The priest placed the wooden fish quietly on the ground.
A mask detached from the wooden fish.

It was a Hannya mask.

A woman’s mask filled with anger, sorrow, and pity.
The priest smoothly placed the mask over his face.

The wind wailed.
The sky trembled.

Hoichi raised his voice.

“Priest...?”

The next moment,
The ground shook, the sand danced, and against the backdrop of the night sea—

The priest danced.

With his right hand held high to the heavens and his left hand hanging toward the earth,
Every time he took a quiet step, the sand drew white ripples.

““Gate, gate...””

The voice leaking from behind the Hannya mask was a layering of low tones like an earthquake and high tones like the gongs of a festival, becoming a resonance that seemed to shake the mountains and the sea as it dissolved into the night sky.
It was not words, nor was it a voice—it was the voice of the gods and Buddhas themselves.

““Para gate, parasamgate...””

His figure as he chanted while dancing was like a manifestation of a deity.

Hoichi’s eyes looked as if they were open.
His face tilted slightly upward, as if feeling a dazzling light.

“I can... see the light...?”

There was no light. But it was certainly “there”.

◇

The gate of hell was about to open.

From that rift, a dark red hand peeked out, and the shadow of twisted horns emerged.

Ofuku was trembling at the edge of the beach.

“Moritsugu-san... stop... please... please...”

That voice, too, was drowned out by the wind.
The sky cracked.

The demon’s hand was trying to grab Moritsugu’s soul.

“Ooooooh...”
A thousand groans surged from deep within the gate.
The lingering attachments of the dead remaining on the beach floated up like bubbles.

Hoichi clutched his biwa.

“Ben”
“Ben, ben...”

“The sound of the Gion Shoja bells echoes the impermanence of all things...”

As if responding to that recitation, the priest’s dance grew more intense.

The Hannya mask caught the moonlight and burned divinely.

““Gate, gate...!””

The sutra that should have been coming from the priest’s mouth was being chanted by the mask’s mouth moving on its own, sending the chant to the sky, the earth, and the underworld.
With the“ben”sound of the biwa, light swirled, and the mudra of the Buddha emerged within the wind.
As if the sky were tearing and the earth were shaking, the sutra transcended dimensions to become a prayer, pouring into the gate of hell that had begun to open.

When the dance reached its climax—

Pok
Pok
The wooden fish sounded on its own.
Even though no one was touching it, it was as if the Buddha were there.

At that moment, the gate of hell—shook.

The demon’s hand was pulled back.
The rift creaked harshly and slowly began to close.

“...N-not yet...”

Ofuku reached out while crying.

Just before the gate closed completely,
Moritsugu’s soul fluttered back onto the sandy beach.

The priest removed the mask.
Beads of sweat stood on his face, and his breathing was ragged.
But his eyes were fixed firmly on Hoichi.

“...Tonight... that is all.”

Hoichi simply pressed his hands together.

“Thank you... Priest...”

The night had regained its silence.
The stars had returned to the sky.

But on the sandy beach, traces that would not yet fade were deeply carved.

◇

The sound of the rising tide slowly receded.
The wind blowing from the sea caressed the beach, and there was a presence beyond where no one should have been.

A single shadow stood in the shade of a rock.

White robes. Waving hair. As if dissolving into the wind, the physical form was becoming faint.

It was Moritsugu.

Hoichi listened to the presence and raised his face slightly.
Even without sight, he certainly felt that something was there.

The wind blew.

Within that wind, there was a voice.
Low, raspy, and with a distant resonance that felt somewhat nostalgic.

“...Your recitation reached me.”

It was Moritsugu’s voice.
But it was not a human voice.
The words themselves were a bundle of sounds trembling like a wind chime, as if they had leaked out from the space between this world and the next.

Hoichi’s gaze wavered ever so slightly.
The biwa in his hands creaked quietly.

Moritsugu’s shadow slowly turned toward the sea,
And eventually dissolved like a heat haze, absorbed into the sea mist.

The priest approached and looked up at the sky.
The gate of hell was closed, and there were no longer any rifts or echoes in the sky.

Hoichi muttered softly.

“...I heard Moritsugu-dono’s voice.”

The priest said nothing and nodded quietly.

The sea was already shrouded in the veil of night.
Only in Hoichi’s hands, which gripped the neck of the biwa, did a faint warmth remain.

◇

After a while, a shadow crouching at the water’s edge was found.

It was a young girl in thin clothes.
Her hair was plastered down by seawater and her lips were pale, but her chest was rising and falling faintly.

“...O-Orui! It’s Orui...!”

Ofuku rushed over as if tumbling and called the girl’s name. The girl’s eyelids fluttered slowly.

“...Mo...ther...?”

The voice was certainly Orui’s. But it was somewhat uncertain. It was a soft resonance, as if she were between dreams and reality.

“Orui, you’ve come back to me...!”

When Ofuku hugged her daughter, the girl’s hands slowly wrapped around her mother’s back.
Her small fingertips trembled as they gripped Ofuku’s clothes.

Hoichi listened to the scene quietly and placed the biwa on his lap.
The priest continued to strike the wooden fish quietly.

──Pok, pok, pok.

The wind calmed, and only the sound of the receding tide remained on the beach.

◇

That night, Orui was laid down on the floor of the village house.
Every time Ofuku touched her forehead and gave her water, the girl’s eyelids opened slightly.

“Mother... I, at that sea...”

Orui muttered.

“...I heard so many voices. ...Voices picking up shells... so many...”

When she finished speaking, she fell into a deep sleep again.

The priest and Hoichi listened to that voice in silence.
Hoichi suddenly looked up and said,

“Priest, those voices... they must still be remaining on the beach.”

The priest nodded.

“The gate of hell has retreated, but that does not mean everything is over.”

At that moment, Orui muttered as if delirious.

“...I, you know... beyond that door...
I saw a straight path... so much light...
...But, I was scared. I was very, very scared...”

Ofuku stroked her daughter’s cheek with trembling hands.

“It’s alright now. You’ve come home...”

──Even as she said that, her hand was tracing Orui’s cheek as if to confirm she was there.

The night was quiet.
However, Hoichi could hear it.
Mingling within the faint sound of the waves that reached no one else... the girl’s voice, picking up shells──.

Click here for the continuation

Please take a look at this as well if you like

※Feel free to leave your thoughts as well