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

Hoichi and the priest wander the beach of Kehi, where grudges swirl—

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Chapter 3: "Moritsugu, the Crumbling Voice"

　Only the sound of the wind remained on the beach as the tide receded.
　The lightly clouded sky spread out, tinged with a faint yellow, blurring the boundary between sea and land.

　Hoichi stopped.
　He felt a presence deep within his ears. The back of his biwa creaked slightly.

　"...Priest."

　As he called out, he opened his left palm toward the sea. He felt as if someone's breath had touched him, carried on the wind.

　That was when it happened.

　"--Pick... it up..."

　A faint voice rose from between the sand and the waves. It was a layering of many voices—young, yet heavy and murky.

　Hoichi knelt quietly and listened intently.
　But even though the waves crashed nearby, there was no sign of the speaker.

◇

　Behind him, the priest spoke.

　"This is... a rift."

　"A rift... you say?"

　"When souls that have not attained enlightenment seek a voice and continue to pool together... the boundary between the sea and this world tears. The sound becomes a call, and eventually, it invites a gate."

　"A gate... is it?"

　The priest did not nod, but simply looked up at the sky.

　"It is not that far yet. But there are signs. If left alone... 'that thing' will eventually open."

　"By 'that thing'--"

　"Calling its name brings it closer, so for now, I shall only call it a 'gate'."

◇

　The air grew damp and slimy, and a ringing sound pierced his ears for an instant.
　And then--

　"...Who... who was I..."

　A low, raspy voice, yet eerily lingering in the ears, came from deep within the beach.

　Where the two turned their gaze, something like a human shape swayed in the shadow of a sand dune.
　The face could not be seen clearly. Its outline was vaguely blurred, swaying as if dissolving into the wind.

　That was Taira no Moritsugu, once known as the Guardian of Tales.

◇

　"...I can... no longer tell... there are too many within me... too many... 'that' is coming..."

　Moritsugu's voice was not one.
　A man's voice, a woman's voice, a child's voice—all of them echoed with a slight time lag.

　The priest started to step forward, but Hoichi stopped him.

　"Perhaps he... is not a vengeful spirit."

　"...Indeed. But he has become a 'vessel' that calls for vengeful spirits."

　As the priest spoke, the cry of a seabird in the distance dragged on strangely long.

◇

　Moritsugu took a step toward the sea.
　His footprints did not remain in the sand; only his shadow moved as if sliding across the ground.

　"...The hundred-handed... arrow... the seal... has come undone... inside me..."

　Hoichi lowered his eyes and quietly stroked the strings of his biwa. But he made no sound.
　Now was not the time to play.

　From the bottom of the sea, countless whispers were welling up as if swelling.
　It was not a tale, nor a groan, but a hollow call, merely repeating, "Pick it up..."

　And then, mixed into that voice, one phrase rang out clearly--

　"Mo... ther..."

　A small voice echoed.

◇

　The priest whispered quietly.

　"The rift is beginning to open..."


◇

　"Hoichi, the biwa--"

　At the priest's words, Hoichi nodded slowly.

　He took down the biwa from his back and gently placed his hands on the strings. The sound of a wooden fish (mokugyo) faintly mingled with the wind.
--Tap, tap.
　It was not from the priest's hands. The wooden fish was ringing on its own.

　"The... Hannya's wooden fish...?"

　"The power of the Buddha is trembling on its own. A spirit is near. No..."

　The priest's tone changed slightly.

　"The 'gate' is peering at us."

Gong--.

　A low, bell-like sound rang out from beyond the beach.
　It was not that someone had rung a bell. It was a sound that soaked deep into the ears, as if the atmosphere itself had resonated.

Gong.
　Gooong...


　The sky trembled, and "something" like a black rift emerged in the center of the beach.
　It looked like a giant gate standing in the air, yet it had no pillars or doors. Just a rift. A mere "mouth" connecting hell to this world.

◇

　"It is not a gate, it is a rift... it has not opened completely yet."

　The priest muttered.

　Hoichi gently played just one note on the biwa strings.
　--Pluck.
　That sound changed the flow of the wind and silenced the "voices" trying to crawl up from the sea.

　"Hoichi, with your voice... call the one who is here. Call the soul that has lost itself by its 'name'."

　"The name..."

　Hoichi lowered his eyes and slowly moved his lips.

　"...Moritsugu... Lord Moritsugu... you are the Guardian of Tales. Are you still... on the path of voices...?"

　There was no reply.

　But the shadow standing before the rift trembled slightly.
　And then--

　"...I had... forgotten... my name..."

　The voice said softly.

◇

　The shadow gradually crumbled and dissolved into the sea mist.
　The rift remained, but its expansion stopped. The sound of the bell also faded, and the air returned slightly.

　Hoichi stood still, holding the biwa to his chest.
　The priest gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

　"It is not... completely sealed yet."

　"Yes... I know."

　Hoichi whispered softly.

　"But--I felt like 'someone' was able to return."

　The priest nodded, and behind them, the wooden fish rang just once more.

　--Tap.

　That sound quietly closed the final lingering echo of the rift.

Chapter 4: "The Night Filling the Beach"

◇

　The sun had set.
　As night filled the beach of Kehi, the scent of the tide became much heavier. The wind stopped for a while, and there were no stars or moon in the sky; only a darkness like spilled ink spread across everything.

　Lights were lit in the village square, and the smoke from the bonfire drifted low.
　Matachiyo, holding a torch, looked around at the villagers through the flames.

　"This is the limit... isn't it, everyone?"

　His voice was quieter than expected, and even carried a hint of pain.
　No one answered. But deep within that silence, the same thought was smoldering.
　Since the night Orui disappeared, no one had been able to sleep soundly.
　The sound of the waves chased them to the depths of their sleep. Bringing small voices with it.

　"Moritsugu... that person brought everything here."

　Matachiyo's hand gripped the handle of the torch tightly.
　"I don't know if he's a Guardian of Tales or what, but right now he can't tell tales, he's just groaning. ...So, what do we do? What if he is 'inviting' them?"

　The elder, Kahei, stepped forward, leaning on his staff.
　His gaze was slightly murky, harboring something inexpressible deep within his old age.

　"Lord Moritsugu is not calling them..."
　His voice was raspy, but it had a clear outline.
　"Rather, he is holding them back. A tale is the power to close the gate. But for one who cannot tell tales, that gate..."

　"A gate? You mean the rift?"
　Before anyone knew it, the priest was standing behind them.
　From beneath his deep hat, only his voice dissolved into the night.
　"In a land that has lost its tales, a rift is born. It is the role of the tale to fill it. Moritsugu has become... a weir of voices."

　"A weir... of voices?"
　Matachiyo wavered slightly, but immediately twisted his face.
　"Then why hasn't he told any tales since that night? Do you know how much the village is suffering...!"

　The priest's wooden fish rang once,clack　It sank into the depths of everyone's hearts, quieter than the flickering of the fire, yet clearly.
◇

　On the night beach, the boundary between the black sea and the land was ambiguous.

　Matachiyo stood all alone at the water's edge. The torchlight was unreliable, and there was no wind, no sound.
　Only--

　The waves were filling in reverse.

　Not waves washing in, but a sound of water "lifting" from the bottom of the sea tickled his feet.

　It was cold. But not freezing. It was just as if something damp and wet was crawling on his skin.
　--I can see it.

　Offshore, a "light" was standing.

　It had a human shape, but its eyes and nose were not clear, and only the face was vaguely blurred.
　Matachiyo intuitively felt that the thing swaying dimly in the night air was Moritsugu.
　"You... Orui..."

　The voice he tried to shout dissolved like bubbles in the back of his throat.
　"That thing's" mouth opened slowly.

　"It is not... me... even though..."

　At those words, which sounded as if he were blaming himself, Matachiyo's feet suddenly gave way.

　It was not the waves or the sand; the voice had pulled him.
　The next moment--he knelt on the beach slowly, as if sinking.
　He collapsed. Slowly.

　The torchlight was sucked into the wet sand with a hiss.

◇

　Morning.

　When the villagers rushed to the beach, Matachiyo was lying quietly in a tide pool.
　He was breathing. But his eyes were wide open, looking at something far away.

　"Pick... up... the shell..."

　A seashell spilled from his mouth.

　A small, spiral shell. It was still wet.
　Kahei gently picked up the shell and whispered in a trembling voice.

　"Is Lord Moritsugu... sealing the children's voices inside the shells...?"

　In the palm of his hand, the spiral shell shone with an exceptionally cold, dull light.

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