The Boy in the City of the Dead

by Kanata Yanagino

  “Uh, about Will’s hands... Think he’ll make a full recovery on his own?”

  “A tricky question. Fortunately, his fingers didn’t stick together, at least. If he got away without some degree of scarring, I for one would be very surprised.”

  I could hear a frightening conversation going on around me. Scarring? Yeah, I guess so. At the time, my hands had felt like I’d grabbed a lump of burning coal, and on top of that, I hadn’t let go. They were currently wrapped in clean cloth, but I could tell that some kind of fluid was oozing out of me and being soaked into it. I was certain that if I unwrapped it, the horror inside would make me want to cover my eyes.

  This might even interfere with my ability to properly open my hands or grip things. The thought was honestly scary. But for some reason, I felt strangely calm about it.

  “Will... I’m sorry, Will. I should have... I should have just...”

  “No. It’s my fault for lying and peeking.”

  The fact that Mary was back to normal probably meant that was a regular occurrence, and she had been keeping it hidden from me so that I wouldn’t worry. And I had gone and injured myself, badly enough to leave a scar, trying to help her when she didn’t even need it.

  “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  It was reckless behavior, borne of ignorance. I was sure that some people would have called me a fool for it. But all I felt was relief. What I did may have been completely pointless, but the fact remained that Mary was safe. The woman who had so kindly nurtured me in this world since birth was safe.

  And as for me, I had managed to take action. I had taken action for Mary’s sake, without ever looking back, without ever letting selfishness or self-preservation get in the way. I didn’t do what my past self would have done. I didn’t let fear get the better of me, and make any kind of excuse to stop in my tracks.

  So—

  “Don’t worry about it so much, okay?” I could smile at Mary from the bottom of my heart.

  You have nothing to apologize for, I thought. I’m so glad you’re safe.

  “Will...” Mary was looking at the ground and trembling. I wasn’t used to her looking like that, and found it hard to guess what she was thinking. “Thank you, Will... Thank you.”

  She held my head tightly as I lay flat on the bed. I could smell her smell, like fragrant wood burning. It was soothing and pleasant.

  “So.” Blood had clearly been waiting for Mary to calm down before questioning me. “You want to tell me why you went and faked an illness just so you could snoop on her in the middle of her act of worship?”

  It was his serious voice. Apparently, I was in for a lecture.

  I couldn’t blame him. It’s a bit weird for me to say this, I guess, but whatever the circumstances might have been, I’d gotten myself injured doing something I’d been prohibited from, so I deserved to receive a proper scolding for this.

  “I’ve always been curious why the three of you are here. And why I’m here—why I’m the only one alive here. And... I thought if I peeked on her worshipping, even though you told me not to... I might find some kind of clue...”

  It brought to mind the phenomenon of “reactance” in psychology, and what we in Japan called the “don’t look” taboo, which often appeared in folktales. There are times when something being forbidden is precisely what draws you to it. That being said, I had intended to just take a little peek and nothing more. If Mary hadn’t been in the state she was, I wouldn’t have—no, that was just an excuse.

  “Didn’t I tell you that I’d talk to you about it one day when you’re bigger?” Blood’s posture changed, as if he was sighing. “Do you think we’re the kind of people to ban you from doing something without a reason? Do you think we’re liars? Will, you’re a smart guy. You know that if we’re banning you from doing something, there’s a good reason why, right?”

  Yes, absolutely I did. I just lacked patience. There was no other way to put it.

  “U-Um, Blood, I don’t think you need to be quite so hard on Will. It was just his child-like curiosity.”

  “Mary, you keep quiet for a minute.” He stopped her hesitant attempts to cover for me, and asked me again as he looked down at me. “Will. Do you have any other reason or excuse?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  I had barely finished saying it before Blood raised his bony fist and slammed it powerfully onto my head. The blunt force of the impact shook me. My head swam. Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, but it happened by reflex.

  “Next time, you talk it over with me or Mary or something before you go thinking about doing something like that. I won’t stand for you randomly wandering off without telling us. There’s ruins around here, and... well... it’s just dangerous.”

  I nodded meekly. The thought crossed my mind that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been reprimanded this harshly. It must have been early in my past life. After all, everyone had given up on me by the end. They knew that lecturing me would achieve nothing, and were careful not to get involved.

  But here, Blood was making himself the bad guy to help me. By getting angry with me, he was doing what was best for me, while fully accepting the risk that I might develop a fear of him or want to stay away from him as a result. It felt kind of strange to be happy about being scolded.

  “Oh, and Will?” Blood unclenched his fist and ruffled my hair. “I’m proud of you for flying in there and helping Mary. That injury is a badge of honor.”

  I could feel the corners of my mouth curving upwards. “I am your apprentice...”

  “This little guy... C’mere, you!”

  Mary had a relieved smile on her face as she watched us laughing and playing together. Gus shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

  Once things had settled down a bit, Gus made a suggestion. “Incidentally, Mary. Perhaps it’s time we told Will about the worship? I’ll admit that it’s difficult to reveal things about our histories to this boy. Say the wrong thing, and he’ll connect the dots and have the full picture drawn on his own. That said, I would prefer not to have to endure this more than once.”

  “Yeah, I’m... Gotta say, I’m with Gus. Feels safest.”

  “Yes, all right,” Mary nodded. “This has taught me that keeping too many things secret can actually be more dangerous.”

  Gus turned to me with a solemn look on his face. “Will. This... may disturb you a little.”

  Disturb me?

  “It’s about your food. Mary has been using that act of worship to summon it all this time, and she burns during the act.”

  Wait, what?

  “You must have seen the silver tray? When her act of worship is over, the food appears upon that tray.”

  “Is this... a joke?”

  “Do you honestly think I would joke about this?”

  Wait. Slow down. This is too much to take in.

  “T-Tell me more,” I said, barely managing to get the words out. Gus explained for me.

  The art of “benediction,” sometimes called “divine protection” or simply “miracles,” was a method for borrowing the supernatural powers of the gods, who had lost their bodies in battle in the age of myth, disappearing beyond this dimension. Gus had touched upon benediction very briefly in one of his lessons, when he’d talked about the “protection” that the gods gave to their minions. But this was the first time he had called it by name.

  Benediction was the art of manifesting those gods’ powers into the world through one’s own body. It was the glorious work of the gods, which could heal illness and injury, create food and drink such as holy bread and wine, and carry out other feats that could not be performed by means of the ancient language of magic. The gods could deliver revelations to the people blessed with their divine protection, helping them in risky situations. When mastered, benediction could even bring the gods themselves down into one’s own earthly body.

  However, it also imposed
greater restrictions upon the user than magic, which used the Words of Creation. Since benediction involved borrowing the power of a god, it couldn’t be used unless the user and the god were on good terms. It required strong devotion, and the kind of spiritual nature that could find favor with that god. It also couldn’t be used to do anything the god disapproved of. For instance, benediction would not allow you to use highly aggressive attacks against the minions of another benevolent god, and if you were wicked and unrepentant, the god would withdraw benediction entirely.

  So that was benediction, a mystic art that could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with magic, and with its own advantages and disadvantages. As for why hadn’t I heard about it before that point...

  “I never told you,” Gus explained, “and I hid all the books relating to it. If you had heard about it and learned about it, you would have guessed that Mary could use it. You’re clever like that.”

  Mary was devout and virtuous, and now that I knew about benediction, she seemed exactly the kind of person to use it. Gus was right. I probably would have guessed.

  “Before long, you would have read my books and so on, connected the dots as you do, and discovered that Mary was bursting into flames. Then, you would have said that you didn’t want her making food for you if it meant her turning into a ball of fire. And I am sure that your mind would not have been changed, not even by us telling you that we are high-level undead, and our bodies recover easily from such a minor thing as being burned.”

  “Well, yeah, I wouldn’t like it, but... why does she set on fire in the first place?!”

  “Well, uh...”

  “Because I became undead,” Mary said. “Because I betrayed Mater our Earth-Mother.”

  “Mary...”

  Her eyes were lowered, and her head, too. Her expression was one of deep sorrow.

  “We became undead by entering into a contract with the unhallowed god of immortality, Stagnate,” she continued. “The god of undeath is a foe to Mater our Earth-Mother. The tainted undead burn at the slightest touch of her divine energy.”

  I remembered the sculpture in the temple. Mater, the Earth-Mother, was the woman with the loving smile, who was holding a baby in her arms, and standing in front of a background of growing rice plants.

  “What I did was beyond forgiveness. I betrayed her, and this is my punishment.”

  Then why did she keep praying? “For me?”

  Was she praying like that just to make bread for me to eat every day? Becoming consumed by flame every time? If that was the case...

  “I... I’ll work in the fields more! I’ll hunt! So—”

  Mary smiled gently. “It’s not like that, Will.” The soft embrace of her voice put my fears at ease. “Offering regular prayers to Mater has been a routine of mine since well before I met you.”

  She wasn’t lying. Mary couldn’t lie with a smile like this, with a voice like that. Seven years spent with her had taught me that.

  “Mater our Earth-Mother is the guardian deity of children. After meeting you, I also began to pray for a little food from her, but my habit of praying itself is no different now than it ever was.”

  “Mary speaks the truth,” Gus said. “I guarantee it myself.”

  “I told her a few times that maybe she should pack it in now, but she won’t have it,” Blood added, making an expression that I thought looked a little displeased.

  Gus, too, gently nodded.

  “Why?” I asked, confused. Not even my past memories were helping me to make sense of this. If what they were saying was true, then before I was around, Mary had been inflaming herself every day in return for absolutely nothing. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  “It does. I’d cry from the pain, if I still could.” She smiled.

  Her reason was simple. Even after betraying her, even if pain was her only reward—

  “I still revere Mater.”

  To be able to smile through all this... She’s beautiful, I thought.

  Mary was a mummy, and looked like a dead tree, or a monk who’d starved to death. Anyone’s first surface impression of her could only be to find her horrifying or grotesque. But to my eyes, she looked absolutely beautiful.

  She had betrayed the one she revered—probably not willingly—and was now rejected by her, roasted by flame every time she tried to come close. Undeterred, she kept trying again and again, and was rewarded every time with terrible pain.

  With my lack of religious faith and flimsy life experience, both in this life and my previous one, I couldn’t begin to understand her suffering, and could only imagine how difficult it must be for her. All I knew was that it had to be hard. It had to be painful. It wouldn’t have been any surprise if undirected feelings of hatred and resentment had built up within her. They would have in me. At least, the old me. I was sure of that.

  But Mary accepted her suffering calmly. I had never once seen her speak badly of anyone or show hatred toward anyone. That was what made her look so beautiful to me.

  “Even if my prayers aren’t accepted... Will...” She added my name softly. “I still believe that prayer has meaning.”

  I wondered if that was true. I hoped that it was.

  “And even though Mater doesn’t speak a word to me... since I met you, she has been blessing me with holy bread.” Mater the Earth-Mother was holding a baby in her sculpture, and Mary had mentioned that she was the guardian deity of children, too.

  “Even if I cannot receive her forgiveness... just that little bit of assistance has been a great salvation for me. That’s all thanks to you, Will!” she added in a mischievous tone. “I’m really sorry for keeping quiet about it. I hope you’ll still eat the bread I give you.”

  My arms were covered in burns, and Mary was regularly being set ablaze. That was more than enough to make that bread impossible to swallow. But I felt... I could still manage it.

  “Yeah... I will. But can you do something for me?”

  “What is it?”

  “Let me pray with you from now on.”

  If at all possible, I wanted to understand Mary even a little more.

  How things looked to her—and how things felt to her.

  A solemn silence that seemed as if it would reject even a single cough had spread through the chilly hall.

  I folded my legs into the lotus position, and rested the backs of my hands on my knees. I rocked my body a little to adjust my posture. Then I sat up absolutely straight, as if my spine was a pole connecting the earth to the heavens, and drew in my chin.

  I quietly closed my eyes to the temple’s large hall.

  My sight had been shut off. My senses of sound, touch, smell, and taste were also receiving very little stimulation.

  I breathed out slowly, and breathed in none too deeply. I counted that cycle as “one.”

  One, two, three, four, five... I concentrated solely on counting. Whenever an unnecessary thought entered my mind, I started over from the beginning.

  — The state of no-mindedness is not about not thinking. That will lead to a fruitless cycle of thinking about how not to think. You can’t achieve it by playing with words and abstract thoughts.

  — To achieve no-mindedness, to truly be without mind, is to focus intently on the “now” as it exists. Chase out your recollections of the past and your imaginations of the future. Think only of the now that exists before you.

  — Cast yourself down before God. Not your past self, nor your future self. Your present self, small and insignificant, as you exist, here in this moment. There are no hidden tricks to it. Just do that and that alone, in earnest. Think of the now, focus on it, and cast yourself down. That is all there is to “praying without mind.”

  Mary’s words crossed my mind. I counted breaths, and soon even those were gone.

  One, two, three, four, five... Over and over, I simply focused on counting.

  I thought of nothing else.

  I heard the wind. A bird chirped far away.

  I could feel the sensations
upon my skin as I sat upon the floor.

  Over and over, I counted.

  I felt the air being breathed out, the air being breathed in, the sound of my breathing, and the beating of my heart.

  Over and over, I counted.

  I counted.

  Counted.

  Deeper.

  Forever deeper.

  I felt like I was diving into the depths of the blue ocean.

  Down.

  Down.

  Forever down.

  How long had I spent “diving”?

  The clear, high-pitched ring of a bell brought me back to reality.

  I opened my eyelids after a long time of keeping them closed. The scenery of the temple returned. It looked incredibly vivid.

  Night had long since fallen, and my surroundings were lit by a lamp. The sculptures of the gods, lit by wavering flames in the cold darkness, were deeply fantastical and enchanting.

  We humans really do get used to things. Once we get used to seeing something, we don’t pay as much attention the next time we see it. Get used to hearing something, and we don’t pay as much attention the next time we hear it. Touch, smell, and taste all work the same.

  It’s the way we learn to respond to stimuli efficiently. But on the flip side, it also dulls our sensibilities and causes us to forget our feelings.

  That was why I loved these moments of awakening from deep prayer. Everything I saw and heard felt fresh, as if I had just been reborn. It was an exhilarating feeling, as if I had just wiped my body clean of a grime that adhered to all my senses.

  I basked in the feeling for a while, and then slowly moved my body out of the lotus position. I had been in the same pose for some time. My body ached all over.

  “Well done, Will.” Mary had waited for me to move before speaking. She was holding the bell she used to signal the end of worship.

  “This concludes the five-day rite of silent prayer.”

  “Th-Thanks...”

  I was thirteen by their reckoning now. Already five years had passed since I had burned my arms.