Dororo: A Novel
Tsuji Masaki
Part Four
The Tale of Nihil, the Demon Sword
Chapter 3
The sun set swiftly, plunging the ruined temple into darkness. There were no lights inside the temple. Laughter echoed from within. Dororo gathered up the children inside the temple and gave them a stern talking-to.
“Look, now. I know we only just met, but you guys could have killed me, doing what you did. Me, Dororo, the world’s greatest thief! If you try that again, I’ll kill you! Just you watch! I was worried about this place from the start. It looked like a good place to hide and spring and ambush, and that’s exactly what you did! But that’s not honorable, is it? I guess it doesn’t matter how storied and fabled and honored a sword is; if it doesn’t cut, it’s not worth anything. But, y’know, I’m so good at what I do that I can steal a sword right out of its sheath! There’s nothing I can’t do!”
Dororo laughed and puffed up his chest as he spoke, glancing at Hyakkimaru out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to make sure that Hyakkimaru was paying attention to him when he boasted about his sword-stealing prowess. Hyakkimaru wasn’t paying attention, though. He was facing away from Dororo toward the wall, and his eyes were firmly shut.
A woman’s voice broke through Hyakkimaru’s passivity like the clarion call of an angel’s voice from the heavens. She was singing a lullaby to the children to help them get to sleep.
Mio…
Mio was the name of the young woman that Dororo and Hyakkimaru had encountered outside the temple. They’d put aside their differences, at least for the night. Dororo and Hyakkimaru were allowed to stay in the temple as long as they didn’t cause trouble.
Mio…
Hyakkimaru repeated her name within the confines of his mind. Something about it soothed him. She kept singing her song. Hyakkimaru had never heard any song before. Mio’s singing voice was much different from her speaking voice. The song soared high and piercing through the temple.
Singing… is an incredible thing. Hyakkimaru tilted his ear to listen better. His prosthetic fingers tapped out the rhythm of the song as he learned it on the rough wooden floor.
Mio knelt down in front of a fretful child and smoothed his hair softly with one hand, still singing. The song was to soothe the children’s pain and sadness and loss. Clear and clean and high, Mio’s melody washed over the children like a prayer.
“Mio.” Hyakkimaru finally said her name aloud.
Mio turned to face him. The child she knelt in front of was breathing deeply, fast asleep.
“Your song… it’s beautiful,” Hyakkimaru said.
“Thank you,” Mio said, keeping her voice quiet. She grinned. Hyakkimaru couldn’t see with his eyes in the usual way, but his telepathy was still in play. The mental sight of Mio’s white, even teeth favoring him with that smile made a blush creep into his cheeks.
“Is there more of the song? I’d like to hear it.” Hyakkimaru’s voice sounded awkward to himself.
“Sure,” Mio said. She stood up slowly, then whispered, “Not here. We don’t want to wake the children.”
Mio turned toward the temple’s back garden. Hyakkimaru followed as silently as he could.
The temple garden was a garden in name only. Most of it was overrun with grass and weeds and brambles. Half of it was littered with large stones that made it difficult for anything to grow there. Like the temple itself, the garden had definitely seen better days. Clouds drifted across the sky, partly obscuring a crescent moon. A gentle evening breeze whistled through the tall grass.
“I heard about you from Dororo,” Mio said. “He said you’ve never been able to hear before, and that you’re still getting used to voices. I suppose I should congratulate you for getting your hearing back.”
“What? Oh, yes, that’s right.” The word ‘congratulate’ was confusing to Hyakkimaru. He knew that people used it to celebrate good things. Aside from Jukai on his birthdays, no one had congratulated him before. He wasn’t sure what to say in response and felt his pulse quicken from nerves.
“I’ll sing a celebration song,” Mio said. “Though I’m not a very good singer, I’m afraid.”
Hyakkimaru sat on a stone and looked up at the sky as he listened to the song. It enveloped him in a cocoon of sound, soft and kind. He felt like his body was getting lighter, like he was being enfolded in a pair of wings and flown away. The clouds in the night sky seemed like dancers to him, moving along to the song. The moon was so bright, as if it were high noon and not early nightfall. Moonlight spilled over the temple garden and the road leading into it like a shining white ribbon. Hyakkimaru felt like if he followed it, that ribbon of light would lead him all the way to heaven.
The song flowed out of Mio more slowly as it ended. Her voice shook. Silence fell, seeming sudden like the snapping of a thread. Hyakkimaru felt shaken. If he wasn’t sitting down, he might have fallen over.
The wind ghosted over the garden, bringing with it the sound of waves lapping against the shore of a river. Hyakkimaru remained still for a while, lost in a trance. When he finally recovered himself, he saw the river in the distance, not too far away, and the bright moon overhead. Somehow, he’d found himself in Mio’s embrace. Perhaps she’d caught him so that he wouldn’t fall. He tore his gaze away from the sky and looked at her.
Hyakkimaru’s eyes didn’t work in the usual way, but he knew that Mio was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He wanted to see her the way that other people could see, even though that was impossible.
Mio and Hyakkimaru stared at one another in silence for a moment. Hyakkimaru broke the silence, saying, “I… it’s… painful.”
“What’s painful? Are you hurt?” Mio asked.
Hyakkimaru shook his head. “No. Until today, I never wanted my eyes back so badly. I always thought that if I had them, all I would see would be terrible things. I can navigate the world without sight—I’m lucky that way—but now, I curse my luck. I want eyes! I’d settle for just the one, so that I could see you.”
Mio’s song still had a hold over him. Over and over, he said, “Mio… I want to see you!”
Such outbursts of emotion were rare for Hyakkimaru. He’d never been so overcome by his own feelings in his life. He considered himself a luckless boy—a traveler on a journey that would never end.
Mio remained silent. After a time that could have been measured in moments or minutes, she took Hyakkimaru’s hand in hers. Then she brought it up to her face. With smooth movements, as if she were tucking one of the children into bed for the night, she settled Hyakkimaru’s palm on her cheek.
“If you want to see me so badly… I guess this is the closest thing,” she said. She started drawing his hand over her features, but he pulled away.
Hyakkimaru’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. “No. It’s not… I’m sorry. It’s impossible.” He hadn’t meant to reject her so forcefully. He felt a surge of hatred for his cursed, false body that couldn’t truly feel much of anything. “My hands… they’re not real.”
Mio was briefly speechless. She trembled finely.
Hyakkimaru’s arms were weapons. They concealed swords meant to kill demons—and other things.
“I don’t even know what kind of a monster I am,” Hyakkimaru said. “I look human, but that doesn’t mean I am one. Or could ever befriend a pretty girl…” His voice shook, but he had no tears; his artificial eyes couldn’t cry. No matter how sad he was, Hyakkimaru could never actually cry.
“Hyakkimaru…” Mio was crying. Maybe on Hyakkimaru’s behalf, or maybe for her own reasons. “I feel sorry for you, but… well, you are human. And you’re our friend, all of ours. Okay?”
“I appreciate you saying that,” Hyakkimaru said quietly. “But I have no friends.”
Mio squeezed his hands in both hers, then shifted her grip to his shoulders. “Your arms are artificial, but your shoulders are real enough,” she said. “Your chest, neck and face are all your own, too. No one had to remake them; they’re yours.” Mio’s hands moved up to cup his face. “Yeah?”
Mio’s face was in front of his—Hyakkimaru could sense it even if he couldn’t see it—and now it was moving closer. He felt heat like the summer sun rising along the back of his neck.
“This is my face,” Mio said, brushing her cheek against Hyakkimaru’s.
Hyakkimaru rubbed his ear and looked down. He was breathing faster now, and instinct or some other impulse made him reach out for Mio. She pulled him into a gentle hug.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re you’re friends. You’re our friend. Remember that.”
Hyakkimaru felt Mio’s breath ghosting over the shell of his real ear. “Mio.” He buried his face in her shoulder and let himself be supported for a few moments as he swayed gently on his feet. She was softer than anything he’d ever felt before.
The moment stretched between them, sad and dreamlike, but then Mio seemed happy again. She said, “I’ll prove to you that we’re friends. Here.” She rolled her sleeves back, revealing a long scar that stretched from her arm to her chest. It looked like a sword wound. The scar was raised and thick.
“A samurai did this,” Mio said. “His name was Hirukawa Tanosuke.” She guided Hyakkimaru’s hand along the scar.
“A terrible wound,” he said.
“Yes,” Mio said. “But I don’t think the man who made it was evil. It was his sword.”
“His sword?”
“Yes. It was forged by a master smith, but his lord tested the sword’s sharpness by ordering the death of its creator. It’s said that the smith’s spirit haunts the blade, howling for blood and vengeance.”
“A demon,” Hyakkimaru said in a tone of realization. “That blade is possessed. Mio, where is that samurai now? Do you know?”
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