Chapter 18: Hell Goes On Forever
His foot swung through empty air, tracing an arc, and unable
to hold his balance on just his supporting leg, Ichijo tumbled to the ground.
"Ow! What the—?!"
He struck his temple against the earth's surface, seeing
stars.
He writhed for a moment, clutching his head.
And what entered his blurred vision was countless trees.
Blinking rapidly, he looked up at the sky there was blue sky
visible between the densely spreading branches and leaves.
"N-no way. I... I died, didn't I...?"
Just moments ago, he should have slammed his entire body
against a trunk.
He was certain he had heard the sound of bones shattering.
Remembering that unprecedented agony, his pulse began
racing. His breathing became labored and his body wouldn't stop shaking.
After experiencing such pain, there was no way he could
still be alive.
If this were reality.
His left side, which had just been slammed against the
ground, throbbed with dull pain. As the trembling man struggled to make sense
of it all, another blow struck him.
Tears streaming endlessly, he noticed the thick root that
had been forcibly torn from the soil and severed.
The shape and color of the dirt, and the thick earthy smell
that assaulted his nose, all testified that it had just been brutally dragged
from the earth moments ago.
His face turned the same earthen color as he fearfully moved
his gaze.
Near the trunk, fragments of root lay scattered on the
ground.
Everything had returned to normal.
He had been returned to the starting point. Both time and
his physical condition.
Clutching his frantically beating heart, he curled up and
wept bitterly.
After crying continuously for several hours and growing
tired of weeping, Ichijo descended the slope with rough steps. Batting away
vines that hung in front of his nose and cursing "These vines are so damn
annoying," his foul language unchanged.
After pouring out all his tears in grief, anger had surged
up in reaction.
"Why the hell do I have to go through this?! I'm
definitely gonna make it down to the bottom!"
His swollen eyes were completely wild, his breathing rough
and agitated as he burned with rage.
"Is it him? Is this his fault? That's right, it has to
be! Always putting on that smug face it pisses me off! Everything's your fault,
Harima! This is because of you!"
No answer came back to his cracking voice echoing through
the mountains.
Swept up in his fury, he grabbed a branch and snapped it
off.
—...rin.
"What? What was that sound...?"
He heard something faint.
But Ichijo, emboldened by his own shouting, dismissed it as
his imagination.
"Or maybe it's that guy from the house—"
—Chirin!
The sound rang clearly near his ear, and he jumped in fear.
He remembered.
The last time this sound had rung out, a sudden wind had
pushed his back and sent him tumbling down the slope.
Right after he sucked in a sharp breath, violent winds
struck from behind once again.
Without time to cry out, he tumbled down the steep slope
along with the branch he'd grabbed, bouncing as he fell.
◇
Among the trees, Ichijo sat cross-legged, spinning a torn
root between his fingers.
He no longer remembered how many times he'd returned to the
starting point.
He'd stopped counting after it exceeded ten times.
He didn't know how many times he'd died either.
His lifeless face let out a dry laugh.
"Well, I guess I haven't actually died. I'm breathing
and moving properly right now."
He let out a deep, deep sigh and slumped his shoulders.
No matter how much he descended, he could never truly
descend this mountain.
How many more death loops would he have to repeat? Surely
not forever?
He shuddered violently and shook his head hard.
He had to be able to get out. He was definitely going to
escape from here.
Inadvertently tensing up, he slowly released his grip on the
root he was about to crush and gently placed it on the ground.
He held his breath and listened carefully. From nowhere, not
even near his ear, could he hear that wind chime's melody.
He relaxed his body, which had tensed up from conditioned
reflex.
After taking several deep breaths, he stared at the pathetic
root lying on the ground, its bark stripped bare.
The man who had died and returned thirty-three times was
finally beginning to think properly.
Through endless repetition, he had figured something out.
When he cursed and damaged things in the mountain, the wind
chime would ring.
Then wind would blow, giant trees would fall, massive rocks
would rain from the sky—he would be forcibly terminated.
The man who had stubbornly refused to change his attitude
finally decided to reform.
Among the roots sprawling in all directions across the
ground, he somehow managed to sit in proper seiza position on a relatively flat
spot, facing the root before him.
"I sincerely apologize."
He bowed deeply.
With his head still lowered, biting his lower lip hard,
putting all his strength into his clenched fists on his knees.
It was humiliating.
But it was definitely worth trying.
Wind blew, making his hanging bangs sway.
His head shot up as if it might fly off.
The root was spinning round and round.
Watching with sweaty palms, he saw it gradually slow its
rotation until it finally stopped.
The pointed tip was pointing upward on the mountain.
He quickly stood up.
As he began climbing the slope, the mountain's character
gradually changed.
Unlike the descent with its infinite conifers, deciduous
trees continued here. He proceeded between the familiar giant trees with their
broad swaying leaves. Passing through the forest belt, he climbed while pushing
through thickets.
The climb was incomparably more tiring on his legs than the
descent.
Nevertheless, drenched in sweat all over and dragging his
heavy feet, he aimed for the summit.
If going down was no good, then he'd go up.
That was the only option.
Why hadn't he realized this sooner?
The instant he was about to click his tongue at his own
stupidity, his face contorting in displeasure, rustling sounds came from
overhead.
A massive amount of leaves fell from the sky like snow.
His vision completely obscured, he hurriedly composed his
expression while shielding his face with both arms.
When the rain of leaves subsided, he breathed a deep sigh of
relief and hurried onward.
Within the gently sloping green tunnel, only his own
breathing and the sound of grass being trampled underfoot echoed.
Eventually, a flat path became visible ahead in the tunnel.
For the first time here, he encountered something with human
traces.
Unable to contain himself, he broke into a run.
Making wheezing sounds, he stepped out of the mixed forest,
and what his scratched leather shoe soles touched was a leveled mountain path.
Though barely wide enough for two people to pass each other,
a path was a path.
It was clearly not naturally formed, but artificial.
Joy temporarily made him forget the pain in his legs and
lungs, and he smiled.
Looking to the left, it curved gently downward, becoming log
stairs partway along.
Then, to the right.
In stark contrast to the descending path, a steep slope
stretched upward.
Ichijo's face clouded. Several massive boulders lay
scattered along that steep incline, as if blocking the way.
"...Which way?"
He bent his knees and sat down on the mountain path.
Until his ragged breathing calmed, he continued pondering
which direction to take.
◇
Eating alone is a terribly bland affair.
Minato stood up from his chair after finishing his lonely
lunch in the dining room.
Since childhood, it had been his habit not to turn on the TV
during meals, and this continued to the present day.
He headed from the dining room where only the sounds he made
could be heard toward the kitchen.
Thinking of his family home, which had always been bright
and lively with unbroken conversation even without the TV's help, he let out a
small sigh.
Eating silently alone in a quiet room was still something he
wasn't used to.
Standing before the sink, he finished washing the dishes in
just a few minutes.
For just one person, it didn't take much time and was over
quite simply.
He carefully wiped away the water droplets scattered around
the sink.
The high sink, which didn't require much bending, had been
installed to accommodate the late owner who had been particular about such
things and quite tall.
It was extremely easy to use and he liked it.
Finally washing his hands and drying them with a towel, he
glanced toward the veranda. Near the window was the mountain god's back as he
lay sprawled.
His body didn't move a muscle.
Lately, the mountain god had been sleeping constantly.
His familiars hadn't visited in quite some time either.
When he'd asked if something was wrong during one of the
rare times the god was awake, he was told there were no problems.
So he didn't do anything like forcibly wake him.
But.
Taking out an after-meal snack from the refrigerator and
arranging it on a plate, he opened the window and went to the veranda.
Clink. He placed it near the long muzzle.
Immediately the nostrils twitched. The chest rose and fell
greatly. The tail began wagging.
He's sniffing, he's sniffing. As Minato crouched with his
chin in his hand and watched with amusement, the god's eyes snapped wide open.
"Black sugar manjū!"
He cried out with conviction and lifted his head with a
start.
On the plate near his nose was an offering of black sugar
manjū arranged in a pyramid. His golden eyes narrowed as he nodded deeply.
"...As I thought."
"Want to share some? Mountain God-san?"
"Mm. Let us partake."
He had been making such invitations from time to time.
The success rate was seventy percent. Not bad, all things
considered.
After they both savored the manjū together, the mountain god
closed his eyelids once again.
He didn't seem particularly exhausted, so with a "Well,
whatever," Minato picked up both plates and stood, looking out at the
garden.
His gaze fell on a single camphor tree.
Though it had grown rapidly from seed to match Minato's
height, there had been no growth whatsoever since then.
Though sparse, its green leaves showed it was healthy, and
the mountain god said it was fine, so there seemed to be no need for worry.
But as he gazed at it with lingering concern, he suddenly
noticed something.
"...I haven't seen it moving lately..."
It used to sway in the wind frequently, playfully rustling
its branches and leaves.
"...Maybe because there's no wind blowing."
On top of that, he realized he hadn't heard the sound of
wind chimes in quite some time either.
For a while, he stood motionless on the windless veranda, gazing at the wind chimes hanging from the eaves.
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