Teito Monogatari:
The Tale of the Imperial Capital
Part 2: Supernatural Babylon
Author: Hiroshi Aramata
Part 3: Solvers of Mysteries
Chapter 16: Twilight Time
July 30, 1912 (Meiji 45). The imperial capital, Tōkyō, was on shaky ground. How to express how strange this earthquake was? The whole earth groaned in pain, the sound making the street cats hiss and run with their hackles up. People everywhere sobbed and every road that led to the Imperial Palace was clogged with aggrieved mourners.
The emperor was dead.
Tōkyō’s citizens chanted Buddhist prayers for the emperor’s rest to the night wind. The streets were lit by paper lanterns.
The sad news of His Majesty’s demise had reached the Ministries of the government only five hours earlier. All the officials were stunned, witnessing before their eyes the end of the Meiji era. No one uttered a single word.
And the instant that frozen moment passed, sobs rose all at once from every government building. The tragic news of the emperor’s passing spread throughout the nation like wildfire.
The emperor’s death was certainly devastating, but was not a terrible surprise. He was almost sixty years old and did not enjoy the benefits of good health.
Thousands of mourners crowded before the Imperial Palace and sat formally on the gravel to offer prayers. Monks entered the moat around the Imperial Palace to perform purification rites while chanting blessings with single-minded devotion. Though their methods varied, they were all united in their desperate wish for His Majesty’s well-being.
Their prayers and rituals were in vain. When the news of His Majesty’s passing reached the area in front of the Imperial Palace, the monks were overcome by disappointment and powerlessness. Many collapsed in tears. A wave of grief ran through the crowds packed around the Nijūbashi Bridge. More people immersed themselves in the moat, weeping loudly; others pressed their faces into the gravel and sobbed. Several monks and priests had exhausted their strength were and unable to move; they were carried out of the moat by their companions.
Leaving the Ministry of Finance, Yōichirō hurried toward Nijūbashi. The distance from Ōtemachi to the Imperial Palace was about twenty minutes at a run. Going against the flow of people made the journey take far longer than expected. He passed several monks drenched with water, carried on others’ shoulders. Everyone writhed as if possessed by evil spirits, screaming in anguish.
They were all soaked through, no doubt from entering the moat. Yōichirō slipped past the crowd of those offering prayers and pushed his way through the sea of people like an Edo period courier. Indeed, since he was entering the palace as a representative of the Ministry of Finance to receive instructions, his role was literally that of a courier. He ran as fast as he could.
On the way, near Wadakura Gate, he encountered ascetics of the Tsuchimikado family. He caught a glimpse of the emaciated figure of Kamo, who had also participated in the Imperial Capital Renovation Plan as the Tsuchimikado family’s representative. In stark contrast to the other people weeping and wailing on their way home, the entire Tsuchimikado group was pale-faced and silent.
The Tsuchimikado family had reigned for a thousand years as the supreme authority of Eastern sorcery, repelling misfortune and inviting good fortune. News of the emperor’s passing was a bitter blow that also signified the end of their own office. Since the Halley’s Comet incident in May of Meiji 43, criticism of the Tsuchimikado family had only intensified. This sudden opportunity to undertake prayers for His Majesty’s recovery had been a last-ditch effort for a comeback on which the very survival of the family depended.
Yet now they had been defeated. The coming era would have no need for sorcerers.
Kamo didn’t even notice Yōichirō passing by. Exhausted from days of continuous prayer and ritual in front of Nijūbashi and crushed by disappointment, he drifted back toward the Tōkyō Main Institute like a ghost. He couldn’t have prepared himself for what he would find when he arrived there.
Hirai Yasumasa, proud leader and teacher of the Tsuchimikado family’s Shinto traditions, took his own life when he learned of the emperor’s passing. He had remained at the Tōkyō Main Institute since he’d been injured by Lieutenant Katō, His act was deliberate and purposeful. It was like he wanted to wipe clean every glory and sorrow of his entire existence.
Hirai Yasumasa was haunted by his own failures. He had failed to protect Tatsumiya Yukari from Lieutenant Katō. He had failed, by means of sorcery, to prevent the approach of Halley’s Comet. On the morning of his death, he had seen a red star streak across the ashen sky before dawn, and received it as an ominous portent of His Majesty’s impending demise.
At six o’clock in the morning, Hirai Yasumasa performed a purification to cleanse his body, then sat before his writing desk and composed two long letters. One was a farewell letter entrusting the future affairs of the Tsuchimikado family to all the members of the Institute. The other was a lengthy missive addressed to his revered friend, Kōda Shigeyuki.
It was a faithful fair copy of the accumulation of facts concerning Army Lieutenant Katō that Yasumasa had obtained over the past two years by combing through every old record and dispatching people to relevant sites.
After completing those two letters, Hirai Yasumasa, the Meiji era sorcerer, straightened his white ceremonial robes, tucked a small sword into his sash at his waist, and disappeared into the depths of the Tōkyō Main Institute.
Hirai Yasumasa was seventy-two years old at the time of his death.
After the day that Lieutenant Katō took Yukari away, he never smiled once.
No comments:
Post a Comment