by Yuya Sato
“I’m ready to carve out the meat,” Hikari Asami said, out of breath. “Does anyone want to help?”
The women pushed themselves forward and crowded around. Hikari Asami made several incisions in the animal’s back and instructed the others to follow the cuts and remove the limbs, and the women eagerly got to work. Gripping their daggers with hunger and rage, these drinkers of blood picked at the carcass with more efficiency than a flock of starving birds, and the cub had soon been dismantled, no longer a figure of dignity and awe, but just meat now.
“It’s time! It’s time!” Mei Mitsuya shouted, blood smeared on the edges of her mouth. “Let’s eat. Let’s eat it all. Let us starving women consume this bear. It cannot stop us now!”
The women tossed the meat chunks into several stone pots that had been brought to a boil over the bonfire. They stirred in potatoes and other vegetable scraps from their storehouse, and soon steam rose, giving off a fatty aroma. In another pot they simmered cut-up offal in blood for more flavor, and in yet another, they boiled Kyu Hoshina’s blood sausage. The smell of cooking meat entranced the women, and their throats trembled in rapture, and their stomachs rumbled. Kayu Saitoh was no exception. Her stomach pulsated and her mouth overflowed with saliva.
The food was ready a little after midday. “Line up!” Mei Mitsuya ordered. “I’ll divide up the meal.” The women had been watching the meat get tender and smelling its aroma, and when the chief gave the order, they lined up like intelligent dogs. Kayu Saitoh joined the line.
Some hadn’t.
Six women refrained: Hono Ishizuka, Naki Sokabe, Masari Shiina, Hotori Oze, Ire Tachibana, and Kushi Tachibana.
Normally, Kayu Saitoh might have wondered why, but hunger ruled her thoughts now. The moment the bear broth hit her bowl, she forgot all else. Mei Mitsuya smiled, told her she had done a great service, and gave her an exceptionally large piece of meat.
The women formed a circle around the cub’s severed head. As they watched over what remained of the bear while eating of its flesh, the head sat there in what seemed like humiliated silence.
When her teeth sank into the meat, Kayu Saitoh’s mouth filled with grease. As she swallowed the mixture of fatty juices and saliva, the hot broth passed down her throat and into her stomach. She eagerly chewed the tender meat, and the taste of it, so strong as to be nearly overwhelming, filled her mouth and her nose. Not even in the Village had she ever eaten so much meat. The Village had bear and deer hunters, but most of the meat and offal ended up elsewhere, and what remained was usually claimed by the hunter’s family. Having married into the house of a paper-miller, Kayu Saitoh wasn’t sure how to manage more meat than she could fit in a single mouthful, but she polished it off and moved on to the offal stew. Her tongue rejoiced at this new texture, and as she chewed, the grease coated her mouth. Much in this same way, the women all emptied their bowls.
After the meal was finished, the ring of women around the cub’s head raised a victorious shout. Some danced, some sang, some laughed, and some cried. As the festivities continued, Mei Mitsuya raised her cane, called Kayu Saitoh and Makura Katsuragawa over, and said she would bestow them each with part of the pelt and a bowl of stew with the bear’s genitals. Kayu Saitoh forced down the bitter soup, and her insides felt feverish, and sweat formed all over her body. Makura Katsuragawa seemed to have trouble as well, following the stew with a coughing fit that continued until tears had begun to form in her eyes. Sharing a dose of ribald humor long absent from Dendera, the other women joked about how she was probably just upset because the food had gotten her libido going again while she was stuck with only old women around.
“The sun has set,” Mei Mitsuya announced. “It’s time to bring this celebration to a close. The funerals will be held tomorrow morning. Sleep well, and don’t be late! Sleep while the bear is in your bellies.”
With the daylong festivities at an end, Kayu Saitoh dragged her feverish body back to her hut. Ate Amami and Inui Makabe came home in high spirits, while Shigi Yamamoto sat, as she always did, in front of the hearth in mute disinterest for the lingering revelry—or for that matter, for the party itself. After a little while, Hikari Asami arrived carrying a piece of the cub’s pelt, which she gave to Kayu Saitoh. When Kayu Saitoh wrapped herself in the fur and lay in the straw, she was able, for the first time since she’d arrived in Dendera, to sleep without feeling the cold.
She awoke the next morning and felt refreshed. Between the nourishment and fat of the bear’s meat and genitals, and the deep sleep granted her by the fur’s warmth, Kayu Saitoh was stronger than ever. Her arms moved freely and with vigor, her joints didn’t hurt, and even her skin had regained its luster.
“Good morning, Kayu,” Ate Amami said, emerging from the straw beside her. “How was it, the fur?”
“Warm,” Kayu Saitoh replied frankly.
“The straw was terrible, as you know.” Ate Amami’s tone carried no bitterness, only the truth. “I hope you’ll let me use it sometime.”
“Sure. Anytime.”
“Kayu, your face is so bright and cheerful now. You look like you’ve found acceptance.”
After a moment, Kayu Saitoh responded, “I haven’t accepted the way of life in Dendera.”
“I know,” Ate Amami said. “That’s not what I meant.” She brushed the straw off the back of her head. “If you don’t care for that word—acceptance—let me rephrase it. You’ve found resolve.”
“Resolve,” Kayu Saitoh said softly. “I still haven’t figured out how to live in Dendera. Now that the bear has stopped coming, I’ll be thinking it over every day.”
“Today is the funeral. Maybe you should think about everyone who died in this fight, and everyone in Dendera who has died before, as you make up your mind.”
Ate Amami went to the water jug. Half watching her, Kayu Saitoh realized that the woman’s advice was sound, and even though Ate Amami wasn’t watching her, she nodded. But then she felt that someone was watching her, and she looked around. Shigi Yamamoto’s eyes were open. The woman wasn’t looking directly at Kayu Saitoh, but her head was turned in that direction. Her eyes had been full of life back in the Village, but not anymore.
“Shigi Yamamoto,” Kayu Saitoh said, “what are you thinking about all the time? You move hardly at all. You didn’t care when the bear came. You’re always thinking.”
Shigi Yamamoto didn’t answer.
“You … were always so good to me,” Kayu Saitoh continued regardless, “all the way from when I was a little girl. You were kind. All the women liked you. And envied you. You married into that herb garden. You weren’t stuck with some lousy husband who couldn’t feed you. You know, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve wondered if maybe you wanted to die on the Mountain. I wonder if life in Dendera is just unbearable for you. I wonder if you wish you were dead.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say to her,” Ate Amami said, having finished her water. “Shigi won’t respond to anything. You really should know that by now, Kayu.”
“Even so, I wanted to ask. I was curious if she had thought about everything and made up her mind, and that this was the result.”
“Yeah, I understand. She used to be so lively and cheerful.”
Ate Amami and Kayu Saitoh held their eyes on Shigi Yamamoto. Even under their combined stares, her mud-smeared face showed no reaction at all, and she merely kept on with her unintelligible mumblings.
Kayu Saitoh wrapped the fur around her shoulders and stepped outside. The bright and clear morning sunlight announced a new day for Dendera, but to Kayu Saitoh, who had only just recovered from the celebration’s fever, the glare was blinding and painful. She scooped up a handful of snow and washed her face with it, but the snow only left a lingering coldness on her skin. She set forth for the western end of the settlement.
As she walked, enjoying the fur’s warmth, she saw Ire Tachibana and Kushi Tachibana leavin
g their hut. The twins had Climbed the Mountain seventeen years ago. Here in Dendera, as in the Village, the two lived inseparably, never interposing themselves into the world around them. Here, as in the Village, they looked only to each other, sharing their laughter.
They gave Kayu Saitoh the creeps. She swore to herself that she would never let herself behave as they did, and she scurried away.
Kayu Saitoh arrived at the burial grounds.
The graves were still in disarray. Beneath a thin layer of snow, the wooden markers and gravestones were scattered about, and the unearthed remains remained unearthed. The chief had delayed the cleanup, having decided either through pragmatism or compassion not to spoil the celebration by reviving memories of the horrific events. Kayu Saitoh brushed away some of the snow and revealed bones just as white. She didn’t know to whom they had belonged, but seeing the remains, she came upon a cruel truth that seemed to dwell within the bones. The dead could do nothing for the living, and the living did not live in service of the dead. She continued into the desecrated cemetery and focused on clearing snow from the bleached skeletons and the rotting deceased. As she worked, she realized that the dead no longer had any responsibilities. The thought warmed her heart, but she disregarded the sentiment, judging the sympathy an indulgence she mustn’t allow.
Beside one of the splintered markers, she found another set of bones, a ribcage with backbone intact. Seeing the nearly complete ribcage, Kayu Saitoh again felt that tenderhearted sympathy, and again she ignored it, concentrating solely on cleaning away the snow.
But then her fingertips felt something abnormal.
It had been only the slightest feeling; had her bare fingertips been even a little colder, she might not have noticed. She ran her finger over the place she’d felt the minute anomaly, and finding it again, she looked down. On one of the ribs was an unusual flaw. She held the bone in the light and inspected it closely. What she had felt wasn’t a dent or a chip, but was as if something sharp had scraped the bone. It was so incredibly tiny, that had Kayu Saitoh not taken interest, nothing would ever have come of it. But the crack nagged at her thoughts. She doggedly pursued any theory that would explain its existence but came to no conclusions. She did, however, manage to put together a supposition. Carrying the ribcage, she left the cemetery.
She came to the manor. As she entered, she heard what sounded like an argument, but she considered it no concern of hers as she crossed the earthen entryway. Nokobi Hidaka and Itsuru Obuchi, who shared the manor with the chief, lifted their heads, noticing Kayu Saitoh carrying the ribcage, but the two women said nothing. Kayu Saitoh climbed the stairs to the second floor, which wasn’t an easy task with the bones cradled in her arms.
Upstairs she saw Mei Mitsuya flanked by two women whose backs were turned to the staircase. On the left was Hono Ishizuka, and on the right, Naki Sokabe.
“Come now, Mei,” Hono Ishizuka was saying, disappointment in her tone. “It’s too early for that. You hold Dendera together, so please, use your head.”
“The women are energized from our victory,” the chief said, confidence presiding in her voice. “It’s the perfect time! We will attack the Village. It’s the right move. Why can’t you see that?”
“But look,” a flustered Naki Sokabe interjected, “so many have died. The Hawks—no, Dendera as a whole—we’ve lost so many. We had fifty, but now only thirty-six are left. We can’t hope to attack like this—”
The chief laughed. “So that’s why you interfere. You’ve been a Hawk for a long time now, but you’ve given in to defeatist delusions. You’ve lost your spine.”
“But, Mei Mitsuya,” Naki Sokabe pressed, “think about it, please. We just don’t have enough people. Why don’t we take a few more years, rebuild our numbers, and—”
“And wait?”
“What?”
“Are you telling me to wait?” The chief’s face turned red, and her voice rose to a fierce roar. “I’ve waited for thirty years! I’m one hundred years old! I’m at the end. I can wait no longer.”
With great patience, Hono Ishizuka said, “Mei, I understand how you must feel, but you’re our leader, and right now, your duty is to rebuild Dendera. We need to rebuild from the bear’s destruction.”
“No. We need to attack the Village with what strength we have left.”
“Then Dendera will be destroyed.”
“You don’t know that,” the chief said. “And frankly, it doesn’t matter. I built this place for my own reasons. Dendera is mine. You have no right to tell me what to do.”
“Is that how you truly feel?” Hono Ishizuka asked.
“You must not be taking me seriously,” the chief said, looking up at Hono Ishizuka. “It’s not my ‘true feelings’ or any such rubbish—it’s what I set out to do from the beginning.”
“Why do you spurn peaceful life in Dendera and instead seek war? We have no connection with the Village anymore. At the very least, they’ve forgotten about us all.”
“It’s not over until I say it’s over. There’s your connection. As if you know what the Village thinks.” Undeterred, the chief smiled with only her mouth.
Having observed the scene in silence, Kayu Saitoh spoke up. “Mei Mitsuya, I found these at the burial grounds. They’re cracked. It’s not the work of a bear’s claws or fangs, but rather something with a sharp edge. What is this? How did this person die? Or should I say, why was she killed? Who killed her?”
2
Mei Mitsuya didn’t speak. Kayu Saitoh asked the same of Hono Ishizuka and Naki Sokabe, but they didn’t speak either. Their silent reactions caused Kayu Saitoh to begin doubting her theory as a product of pure fantasy. But the bones cradled in her arms gave her a feeling akin to courage, though harder to describe, and she managed to retain confidence in her intuition.
“You won’t fool me,” she said. “I believe the crack in these bones more than I believe you. If you won’t talk, I’ll take matters into my own hands. I’ll show these ribs around until I find someone who will tell me what happened.”
“Don’t,” Hono Ishizuka said sharply. “Any actions that would bring further disorder upon Dendera will not be permitted.”
Kayu Saitoh didn’t yield. “Who won’t permit it? You? I’m not afraid of you one bit. You know, Hono Ishizuka, I’ve been in Dendera for sixteen days now, and I haven’t seen you do even one bit of work. You only complain.”
“I won’t respond to your provocations.”
“I’m only stating the truth,” Kayu Saitoh said.
“In that case,” Hono Ishizuka said, “you’re worse than me. You complain about every single thing. Really, you should be ashamed.”
“Trying to nitpick your way out of a losing argument, are you?”
“Kayu Saitoh,” the chief said, looking straight at her, “nobody knows about that crack. If you forget about it, it’ll be as if the crack never existed. It’ll be like nothing happened.”
“Enough,” Kayu Saitoh said. “I don’t need your help.”
When she turned to leave, she heard the scrambling footsteps of Hono Ishizuka and Naki Sokabe running after her with violent intentions. Quickly, they restrained her and pinned her to the floor.
“You bastards!” Kayu Saitoh shouted. “The moment the bear goes away, you act in arrogance! The moment we feel safe, you make your big move! I was right about you people who didn’t go to the Mountain—you’re all a bunch of feckless good-for-nothings!”
Kayu Saitoh tried to struggle free, but the women had her arms and legs and even her back pinned firmly. She was helpless.
The chief sat down on the floor, looked Kayu Saitoh in the eyes, and said, her voice low, “We gave you a chance, you fool. Shall we put you in the jail again?”
“If you’re going to kill me, hurry up and do it. Stab me in the ribs and do it.”
“The more you fuss you make, the more y
ou isolate yourself. You must understand that by now.”
“I’m not afraid of being isolated,” Kayu Saitoh said.
The chief stood in resignation, then kicked Kayu Saitoh down the stairs. Reflexively, Kayu Saitoh grabbed for one of the steps, then pulled herself up to run away, but Nokobi Hidaka and Itsuru Obuchi surrounded her, and when she saw Hono Ishizuka and Naki Sokabe coming down the stairs, she knew she had lost any chance of escape.
For the second time, she was led belowground and tossed into the jail cell.
“Kayu,” Hono Ishizuka said, her face expressionless, “you’ve put yourself in the worst possible situation.”
“What is that crack in the bone?” Kayu Saitoh asked, beating at the wooden bars. “What has you all in such a panic?”
Hono Ishizuka didn’t respond. Neither did Nokobi Hidaka, Itsuru Obuchi, or Naki Sokabe, who disappeared up the stairs.
Not threatening, but only stating the truth, Hono Ishizuka said, “You might be killed. You really might be killed.” Then she departed, leaving Kayu Saitoh alone in silence and gloom.
As before, Kayu Saitoh didn’t feel like escaping into slumber. This time, she had the fur to help her endure the cold, and she quietly waited, left without an outlet for her energy. The air cooled further, and the gloom settled into utter darkness, and she knew that night had come. Yet no one had delivered her dinner. As her head wound ached, she grew angry at having missed the funeral and having been unable to pray before Kura Kuroi, instead being abandoned in this cold cage. She stewed in the intolerable irrationality of being locked away like some villain when she had only done what she felt was right. She lost all sense of pity and sympathy for Dendera, instead blaming the settlement for all her ills. Wrestling with a sea of emotions, she put her hand to the bandage she had made from Kura Kuroi’s white robes.