Teito Monogatari:
The Tale of the Imperial Capital
Part 1: Great Spirit of Tokyo
Author: Hiroshi Aramata
Part 4: The Imperial Capital Renovation Plan
Chapter 18: The Sumida River
Evening sunlight briefly brightened the riverbank. The low-hanging sun seemed to be trying to make up for the dark, oppressive day in its final hour. The rain had stopped at about four o'clock in the afternoon.
Kōda Shigeyuki, a writer by profession, was seeking a distraction. He shouldered his fishing rod and headed towards the shore of the Sumida River. He often went fishing in the evenings when he was restless.
He reached the riverbank. As he walked towards the river mouth, a lush green thicket of grass came into view. Reeds swayed in the wind.
Descending the embankment, Kōda made his way towards the water's edge, pushing through the tall grass. The rain had stopped today, but it was still the middle of the rainy season, so he didn't expect sunny weather. The ground wouldn't dry quickly. The riverbed was unusually muddy this evening. Water oozed from beneath Kōda's feet with every step.
Tokyo’s downtown—especially the eastern side centered around the Asakusa district—seeped with moisture. The struggle to create Edo city was a generalized war against dampness. Edo’s citizens had long regarded the undertaking of transforming this land as their destiny.
Beginning with land reclamation and the digging of canals, Edo was constantly in a state of rebuilding and remodeling. In other words, this place was fated to be hopelessly artificial. Eight years ago, Kōda Shigeyuki had wounded the sentiments of men of letters who loved cities by pointing out this artifice. He published a long treatise titled “The Capital of a Nation,” which only made matters worse. The reception of this treatise was cold, asking how a mere man of letters could presume to levy such criticisms against Tokyo. In the Meiji literary world, naturalism in the Western style was popular. A devoted fan of Kyokutei Bakin’s The Legend of the Eight Dog-Warriors of the Satomi, Kōda's premodern ideas often clashed with Western-tinged thinking. His treatise was dismissed as quaint and old-fashioned.
Even so, there was one person who enthusiastically supported Kōda's ideas for Tokyo’s reconstruction: Mori Rintarō. Using his army connections, Mr. Mori took charge of central municipal district reform. He spoke to everyone he could about “The Capital of a Nation,” loudly publicizing the proposal laid out in the treatise. Other renovations were being funded by Baron Shibusawa Eiichi. There was a secret meeting taking place at the baron's estate. Mr. Mori had promised to put forward Kōda's ideas, but Kōda wasn't sure that would really accomplish anything. The proposal would be submitted as the opinions of the General Staff Office of the army. Kōda's name wouldn't be on it anywhere.
Hmph. They will twist my plan in a military fashion, Kōda thought glumly. He found a vacant lot that was somewhat dry. Muttering to himself, he prepared to fish. My plan's main focus isn't on the conspicuous parts people see, like roads, buildings, or stations. It's the underground infrastructure: how to achieve proper drainage and sewage treatment.
Kōda stepped toward the riverbank where the rising, muddy water lapped against the shore. He stood in the tall, obscuring grass, thinking dark thoughts. He shifted his footing a second and third time, mindful of the wet ground where water oozed up beneath his feet.
Then the fishing rod slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. Kōda cried out and froze, paralyzed, as a girl appeared before him in the river.
Is this a hallucination? An illusion? No.
In the river about ten feet from where Kōda stood, the girl lay immersed in the water. There she was, frozen to the spot. Her face was deathly pale like a wax sculpture's. Her disheveled black hair accentuated her pallor. The belt around her waist had soaked up water and hung heavily down. The white layered cloth of her kimono was like a burial shroud.
Had she floated up from the water? Was she drowning? If she noticed Kōda standing there, she gave no sign of it. Water dripped from her hair and clothes.
For a brief, panicked moment, Kōda feared that the girl was dead.
But then her eyes opened. Her chest rose and fell. She shifted her face toward him.
She was alive.
Kōda stood up straighter, but otherwise stayed absolutely motionless. Terrified by the girl's bizarre appearance, he remained still like a panicking animal.
The girl didn't rise from the water. Her belt was soaked, holding her down like a thick rope. Kōda took a closer look at the blue-black belt that was holding her beneath the surface. He'd mistaken it for fabric, but its length and thickness more closely resembled a snake.
Splash. The girl struggled, thrashing in the water. After her third splash, the snake uncoiled from around her waist and moved away. Kōda thought it looked like an evil spirit leaving her body.
The girl slowly stood up, testing her footing in the shallow river. Her half-open eyes drifted away from her waist. Two pale feet appeared above the water.
Pitch-black muddy water surged to the river's surface, disturbed by her footprints.
Kōda sprinted forward to assist her. He lifted her up onto the riverbank with one strong pull.
She crawled up the shore through the marsh like a dying Ophelia. The girl writhed like a caterpillar, grimacing and shivering.
Kōda tried to help her up, but she twisted away from him. "Hey, what's wrong? Miss, are you all right?" He pinned her shoulders down gently in an attempt to prevent her from injuring herself with all her violent thrashing. She struggled and didn't seem to see him. He struck her once across the cheek, not very hard, trying to return her to her senses.
The girl curled in around herself and made a piteous sound. Then she flicked her wet hair upward and arched her body back. She curled forward again, vomiting into the marsh. An orange-colored lump fell from her mouth onto the oozing ground. The sticky lump rolled into the reeds, spinning like a top. It concealed itself in the grass with the swiftness of a mouse.
White steam rose out of the grass.
What is that? Kōda entered the steam but had to retreat, coughing painfully. He returned to the girl, helping her to her feet and supporting her so that she wouldn't fall. He had to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible.
White steam enveloped them both. Kōda ran up the embankment with the girl, fleeing like his life depended on it.
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