Dororo: A Novel
Tsuji Masaki
Part One:
The Tale of the
Hall of Hell Demons
Chapter 3
The voice of a man drifted out of the darkness and into the Hall of Hell. “You demons! Monsters! Evil beings! I come to you as a believer. I know you to be truly powerful.”
It was midnight in the Hall of Hell. No one sane would stand there alone even in broad daylight, but the man who had spoken was bold and fearless. He wore an eboshi and kariginu,[1] so it was obvious that he was a person of some standing, perhaps even a nobleman.
The man was indeed high-ranked, but perhaps not so high as his clothing would suggest. The kariginu was formerly a hunting outfit worn only by nobility, but its use had spread to other classes in recent years, and every samurai house--even those of the sixth rank[2]--were permitted to wear them. This man had clawed his way from the lower ranks to reach the sixth, but he could climb no higher without a miracle. It was rare for any sixth-ranked samurai to reach the fifth rank based on merit.
The man knelt on the dusty, cobwebbed floor of the Hall of Hell and bowed his head in prayer. “I have no friend in this world that can help me, and so I turn to the world that you demons inhabit.” As he spoke, his own voice echoed back at him in the stillness, though the echoes were imperfect. Some words he heard clearly while the rest of what he said was muddled: drowned in darkness.
Reddish light sparked from the corners of the man’s vision as if his mind were playing tricks on him. He hadn’t gotten much sleep recently. The veins at the corners of his eyes pulsed as if he’d gone mad.
The final worship service that the
temple held that day ended. Priests, worshipers and visitors left the
main temple and returned to their residences. It was raining heavily.
The sound of the rain plunked on the roof and drowned out most other
sounds. Because so much of the roof was damaged, the wind and rain
caused the whole structure of the Hall of Hell to creak and sway like
an animal gnawing on the bones of its prey and tearing its skeleton
apart. From far away, garbled and faint, came a roar of thunder.
It was a late summer storm, though the weather today was far too cold for the season.
“I will worship you demons as your power deserves,” the man said, head still bowed. “In exchange, I ask you to hear my plea.”
The answer, when it came, was from the temple, not an single demon statue. “Your plea?” the voice of the temple asked. The voice was loud enough to shake the damp ground.
When the man said nothing in reply, the eyes of one of the demon statues glowed red and swiveled to focus on him.
“I desire the world,” the man said to the demon statue with the glowing eyes.
Laughter rumbled through the hall. There was a sound like fluttering wings from above. It was probably a bird trying to take shelter from the storm.
“Is that your answer, you great and powerful demons?” the man asked. His face went pale as he listened to the demon statues laugh at him, but he kept it upraised, as if he had the authority to speak to the demon statues on equal terms. As the ground became soaked from rain and the structure around him creaked in the wind, he sat silent and didn’t falter.
“My name is Daigo Kagemitsu,” the man said. “I have no assets and no fortune. My family name is not distinguished and my lineage is unimportant. I have no means of improving my position in this world, where money and pedigree mean everything. The world is like that, now: even a noble name means nothing. Men who were once great samurai generals in go begging, trying to earn enough to feed their families. Many wind up dead on the side of the road for their trouble. Peasants and farmers have risen up in revolt, stolen property and taken over the capital.
“A man like me, with great ambitions for himself and for the world around, has no way of changing anything at all. But what about you demons? I must believe that you are powerful enough to change whatever you desire. It is only that you are trapped here. If I release you, will you help me?”
There was a sound like a hammer coming down hard from above. The thunder was getting closer.
Kagemitsu didn’t move from his spot on the floor of the Hall of Hell. He didn’t react to the storm at all. He focused on the demon statues in front of him and waited patiently for their reply.
Suddenly, the Hall of Hell was flooded with white light like the flash of a camera, only many times brighter. Shadows had nowhere to hide. The demon statues were illumined in all their glory.
And then, there was a sound like tearing and splintering as the roof caved in. Lightning had struck the bamboo grove and the Hall of Hell. The Temple of the Demon King rocked from the aftershock of thunder.
Kagemitsu was unhurt, though stunned.
“Daigo Kagemitsu.” The demon statue in front of Kagemitsu spoke in a voice like the thunderstorm, deep and resonant. It was like the lightning strike had granted the demon statue its full voice; Kagemitsu could hear it more clearly now.
“Who are you?” Kagemitsu asked. He’d been temporarily blinded by the flash of lightning. He stumbled to his feet, spinning in a circle and trying to find the demon that had spoken. “Where are you?”
Kagemitsu heard mocking laughter again, though it was fainter.
“Kagemitsu, we have heard your plea.”
This time, when Kagemitsu heard the voice, he wasn’t hearing it with his ears. Instead, the demon statue seemed to speak inside his mind.
Kagemitsu trembled with fear. “Are you a demon?” he asked.
The demon chuckled. “I am. You called us that, and yet you seem surprised. What a strange human you are.” The demon’s laugh echoed cavernously off the walls.
Kagemitsu’s mouth was open in shock. Sweat poured down his forehead. “Did you... is this your answer? Did you demons hear my words?”
“That seems fairly obvious; we are here.”
“What?!”
“You are impolite,” the demon said. “Where are your manners? We didn’t have to appear. You should thank us.”
“What are you? Who am I thanking?”
“We are demons.”
“We need no money or worldly wealth.”
“But we desire respect.”
“We are demons...”
Voices whispered in the hall all around Kagemitsu. He felt surrounded. He tried to identify which demons were speaking, but that proved difficult. He heard their words, but no statue moved.
Kagemitsu put up his hands in supplication and let out a low cry. “I’m just an ordinary man, but I will do my best to give you what you ask for. What is it that you want?”
“And what should we ask for?” a demon asked.
“It seems to me that you care more about what you want than what you can do for us,” another demon said.
“He wants everything,” another demon said in a quieter voice.
“We have been together for too long,” yet another demon said. “We should leave this place. That is what I desire.”
There were murmurs of agreement to the demon’s statement.
“Is that your wish? To leave?” Kagemitsu asked. He looked around, then said, “If it is within my power, I will help you to leave this hall.”
A demon laughed. “To think that this human believes himself powerful. He is not capable of the great sacrifice needed to free us.”
“Great sacrifice?” Kagemitsu asked. “What great sacrifice?”
“That is for you to decide,” a demon said. “It must be more important to you than anything.”
Kagemitsu wracked his brain, trying to think of a suitable sacrifice. Should he offer his house? His fields? His social position? What was more important to him than anything else?
He dismissed giving up his social position outright; if the demons gave him the world in exchange, that sacrifice would be meaningless. He considered offering his cows and menial servants--he was willing to give up any or all of them, aside from his wife, as cold-hearted as that seemed.
“Look what we have here!” a demon jeered. “It’s a man who doesn’t know what’s important to him!”
“His choices are shallow and selfish.”
“We should choose for him.”
The demons whispered among themselves again.
“We cannot choose for him,” a demon said in a tone of finality. “Think, Kagemitsu.”
“Think...?” Kagemitsu asked. The voices of the demons around him made him feel dizzy. They kept speaking. He spun around the room, getting even dizzier, feeling the oppressive weight of all the demons’ eyes on him.
“What is truly important to you?”
“We heard your plea.”
“We are here.”
“We are listening.”
“What do you value?”
“Think it over carefully.”
“What is it?”
“What is important to you?”
“What?”
“Look into your heart and choose.”
“We are waiting.”
“We are patient.”
Kagemitsu felt like his world had split in two. There was a bright light--brighter than golden sunshine--from directly above. Lightning struck the roof of the Hall of Hell, landing very near the place where Kagemitsu stood.
Kagemitsu screamed, then lost consciousness.
Thunder echoed from far away to echo the lightning strike. It was strange that there was no thunder close to the Hall of Hell. The storm died down. The roar of the sea was a distant sound, seeming louder in the stillness that followed the rain.
Translator's Notes
[1] An eboshi (Japanese: 烏帽子) is a type of hat worn throughout historical Japan which was uniformly black in color. The name translates to “bird hat” because it resembles the feathers of a black bird. Over time, the style and shape of the eboshi developed to show one’s rank within Japanese society. Eboshi were commonly worn by samurai during the time period when this story takes place. A kariginu (Japanese: 狩衣) is a silk or linen garment that was originally used as a hunting outfit. Compared to the multi-layered formal wear that provided limited mobility, the kariginu was very long and loose. The garment is created from a single length of cloth for the body, and double for the sleeves. The garment is only partially attached, and contains strings within the sleeves to tie the fabric. Based on this design, the garment provided great mobility and became the casual wear of the noble class (including the samurai class) during the Warring States period, when this story takes place.↩
[2] The Japanese imperial court has maintained a ranking system with nine different ranking levels for much of its history. These nine levels were further subdivided into thirty different ranks in total. The significance of this samurai being sixth-ranked is that promotion in ranks was often a very gradual, bureaucratic process. A person could not advance beyond sixth rank except by rare exception, thus causing a natural cut-off point between the aristocrats (fifth-rank and above) and the menials (sixth-rank and below). Additionally, income in the form of bushels of rice from the provinces increased dramatically as one advanced in rank. The average sixth-rank official might earn 22 bushels of rice a year, but a fifth-rank official might earn 225 bushels of rice that same year. ↩
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