Shirayukihime

Chapter 1: May Our Lord’s Reign

“May Our Lord’s Reign

Continue for a thousand, eight thousand generations,

Until the pebbles

Grow into boulders

Lush with moss.”

Iwaizumi, Iwate, Empire of Japan

Empires rise and fall, but the Rising Sun shall forever be rising, a glowing bastion in the world of darkness. Never has the earth seen an empire lasting for two thousand and seven hundred years, and our faith in the Emperor will lead us to glory and victory. The Gods bless the Empire and all its loyal subjects. We all seek refuge in the greatness of Buddha.

Such was the eloquent speech of His Majesty, at his coronation in the Imperial Palace. The camera footage then zoomed out and panned the crowd surrounding the compound, cheering and waving the flag of the rising sun. Gone were the times of the old Emperor, and in came the reign of his son. With every new Emperor came a new era.

How I wish I could be in the capital to witness the magnificent event. Certainly there would be festivities in the temples and shrines, floating parades, and His Majesty would go around the metropolis to show his face to his beloved people.

At least that was what I knew from the Master. The Master was an aged man, and he said himself that he witnessed the coronation of the previous Emperor in the capital. He would sometimes proudly reminisce as he sat for dinner with his wife and I, and the coronation of the previous era was a rather common topic the elderly man brought up. He would speak of it with a glimmer in his eyes, the pride and love he had for our glorious nation.

He would laugh heartily as he reminisced how he walked the streets of old Asakusa, red lanterns hanging from every street corner, to the magnificent Senso-ji compound in the heart of the district. With pride he recalled how the Emperor blessed the temple himself. Not long after that, he said a giant earthquake rocked the capital, but the temple itself remained intact.

“His Majesty is divine for sure,” he said, his wrinkled face glowing with an unexplainable joy.

But whenever I tried to convince him to let me go to Tokyo to see how wondrous it is, he would not let me. No matter how many times I tried, his answer would always be no.

“Remember the vow your parents made,” he would say, when he ran out of ways he could deny me. “Didn’t they vow to the Gods in this very shrine, that if they were to have a child, that they would dedicate the life of their child to the Gods, in the path of purity? Heaven had fulfilled its side of the bargain, and your parents as well. Who are you to break a bond so sacred? It is not your choice, Shira-chan.”

It was then that I would ask from his wife, the Mistress, but she would not agree to it either.

“Tokyo, Nagoya, Osaka. . . All these are places filled to the brim with decadence and greed. They are certainly not places a girl like you should visit.”

Decadence, greed, those were just words to me. I had never really understood them, it was just that the Master and Mistress would keep repeating them, reminding me of how terrible those two terms were. But what was decadence? What was greed? Never have I experienced such things

“Dens of vice. . . Hellholes of those who lost their faith in the Gods and the Buddha.”

Answers like those used to scare me when I was a child, but now, at seventeen years of age, I began to silently question it. I have never before seen or experienced these ‘hellholes’ so how would I know? Everyone in Iwaizumi was so nice and respectful, we seemed like the perfect society. Closely-knitted, in the middle of the mountains. Everyone knew each other in a town like this.

“If only Tokyo was like us, then I might let you go,” the mistress said.

I have grown to accept the fact that I will never leave this town, but I supposed it wasn’t that bad. I had all I needed here. Nevertheless, deep in my heart, I started to question this decision of my two elders.

“Shira-chan!” the voice of the Mistress rang out.

“I’m coming!” I replied, neatly placing aside the clothes I was folding as I watched the coronation on television.

I quickly rushed to the kitchen, where the mistress was cooking lunch. The smell of freshly-cooked rice filled the air. The mistress was working to heat up the stone stove. The rice was spread out evenly in the wooden basin to cool. I quickly knelt at the parapet, my hands placed on my lap.

“Ah, Shira-chan,” she said, looking at me and nodding, acknowledging my presence. “Are you doing anything right now?” she asked as she squatted there.

“Well, I was just folding clothes,” I replied, “If you need anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

“I see,” she said, getting up and wiping her hands on her apron. “Could you go down to the market and get me the shishamo? I already ordered and paid it yesterday, so you just have to collect it. It’s at Takahashi-san’s store, I’m sure they recognise you.”

“Of course,” I said, lowering my head as a sign of respect.

“I was thinking of frying them in flour,” she said, using the wooden ladle to spread and cool the rice, “It’ll be such a treat in a cold winter like this.”

I only nodded, slowly getting up before leaving. I wrapped a woollen shawl over my head, to protect my head from the snow, before slipping out of the sliding door. I quickly slid it shut again to prevent a cold draft from entering the house. The Master’s house was at the back of the shrine complex, behind the main shrine building, where worshippers would gather at the veranda to offer respects, ringing the chimes after they tossed the coin into the wooden box. On days of major festivals like Obon and New Year, the air would be filled with the ringing of the chimes. That evening would be the same, where people would be gathering to pray for His Majesty.

I walked through the courtyard, where the Master was sweeping the stone floor.

“The Mistress sent me on an errand,” I told him as I walked past.

“Well, come back safe then,” he wished me.

I bid farewell to him, before walking underneath the red torii gate demarcating the street from the shrine grounds. Actually, there was another way out of the shrine complex, that being the back gate at the garden, but that lead to the trail leading through the mountains, and would make me go in a roundabout manner to get to town. Sometimes I wondered why the Master had a gate leading to the middle of the mountains in the first place.

I stepped out into the street, my boots crunching against the snow. The snow was light, and the sky was overcast, a typical winter afternoon in Iwaizumi. I walked past a row of houses, all caked in pure white snow. Outside, a few elderly women in winter kimono and woollen shawls were clearing the snow from their yards, shovelling the sleet into heaps. The scent of miso wafted into the air as I walked past one of the houses, a reminder that it was lunch time in the sleepy town. A lone pickup truck drove slowly past me, its engine rumbling, bringing with it the heavy smell of diesel. A flock of birds flew noisily above the town, appearing from behind the mountains in the north, before disappearing south.

Crossing the two-lane bridge over the stream, I reached the junction between the main street and the street leading to the shrine. It was over there where an open square was located, right in front of the municipal office. The square was rather empty today, probably because it was a weekday. On weekends there would usually be a farmer’s market there, where farmers downstream took their produce to town to sell.

I tugged at my shawl as another gust of wind blew in my direction, the cold biting my cheek. Mists of warm air appeared whenever I exhaled. I looked up to adjust the tautness of my shawl, tucking it at the back so that I needn’t need to clench it with my hands under my chin. It was then that I realised the large portrait of His Majesty hanging from the third story of the brown concrete building. The frame was new, painted in a shining gilt of gold. His Majesty looked striking in his military uniform, a maroon sash hanging over his right shoulder. Badges and military decorations were pinned on his left chest, the ribbons and metal a bold contrast to the black jacket he wore. An imposing impression.

I lowered my head down, bowing in respect at the portrait, just like I had did to the portrait of the previous Emperor, His Majesty’s father. With that, I then hurried off down the street to the fishmonger to collect the Mistress’s order of shishamo.

The elderly shopkeeper recognised me immediately, and with a friendly smile and a short exchange of words, handed me the box of fish I came there for. With her aged, but still sturdy hands, she sealed a wooden lid onto the wooden box. She also handed me a small box of sea cucumbers as a gift. I could only smile and thank her for the gift.

I carried the two boxes in front of me, stacked on top of each other, holding them against my chest. The smell of the fish quickly got to me. Nevertheless, I was rather used to it, having being brought up with the smell of fish, soy sauce and miso. The boxes were rather unstable, and I felt it quite a challenge to carry them, stacked on top of each other. I wondered how I would be able to make it all the way back to the Master’s house and the shrine with such a heavy load. My arms started to ache.

As I walked along the rows of shops along the river my arms screamed for me to take a breather. I ignored them, and walked ahead anyway. The water in the stream trickled against the raised stone foundations of the ancient wooden townhouses, lush with moss. My load in my arms in front of me, I looked to the left, over the railing and into the stream below. In the summer months, on afternoons like this, there would usually be groups of children playing in the cool water, splashing about to escape the heat. I wondered if there were any fish in there, swimming about. It made me ponder if there could be any fish in the water in a harsh winter like this.

My attention wandering from the stream to the rocks at the other side of the bank, I approached the bridge, where I was to turn left into the street that led into the shrine. The portrait of His Majesty was taken down for a moment, probably because of the cold weather. I found it rather unfair, since we all deserved the protection of His Majesty , no matter what the weather was. His Majesty watches over us, he takes care of us all. We, his subjects live contently with that.

It was then that I heard footsteps from behind me. Rushed footsteps, light and rapid. Whoever it was, he or she must have been in a rush to get to somewhere, which was rather rare in Iwaizumi. Over here, nobody really rushes through things. People rarely rush from one place to another, or from one task to the next. The snow, mountains and river, they all somehow gave a soothing effect the town that resonated through the entire valley.

Out of curiosity, I nearly turned around to see who it was, but as I was doing so, I felt something hit my shoulder from the back, with quite some force. The next thing I knew, I accidentally let go of the boxes, and they both fell onto the ground, the lids detaching themselves. I soon had shishamo, some still alive, flipping about on the snowy ground, flapping their tails and fins in the cold, desperate for their lives. I quickly knelt down to pick them up, my knees in the snow, grumbling to myself for being so careless and that I should’ve paid more attention any surroundings and not go about walking with my head up in the clouds. I wondered who was the one who had knocked into me so hard, he or she really owed me an apology. My palms coated with slime, I continued to pick up the struggling fish.

“I’m really sorry for that,” I heard a male voice from behind me. “Are you alright?”

I turned around to take a look at the culprit. My suspicions were true. Turns out, he was not from around here.

In front of me stood a young man, his fringe swept to the right. He wore a grey trench coat, and a maroon woollen scarf draped around his neck. On the snow a stone’s throw away from where he stood, a haversack, overstuffed by the looks of it, was slumped on the ground. He held two of the long, streamlined fish in his hands.

“These two nearly made it to the stream,” he said, laughing as he squatted down beside me. “These two were quite strong-willed don’t you think?”

Chuckling, he placed the two fish into the box I had in front of me, before quickly picking up the few other fish lying about near to him.

“Th-thank you,” I muttered under my breath, nodding shyly.

The young man then stood up, dusting his hands. The sky in the background was starting to be covered by a layer of grey clouds, casting shadows all over the valley.

He then looked up to the overcast sky and sighed. Looking down at me again, kneeling in the snow, he smiled.

“Well, since I was the one who knocked into you, why don’t you let me carry these for you?” he offered, kneeling down beside me, his palm in the frost.

I felt my cheeks turn red as he knelt there beside me, the faint scent of cologne reaching me. He must have been wearing it, although I wasn’t really too sure. I wanted to refuse his help, but I was too flustered and my words got stuck in my throat.

“N-no, it’s alright,” I finally manage to mutter, a little too late and a little to softly.

By the time those words left my lips, the stranger had already swooped the two boxes up in his arms, the haversack hanging from his right shoulder.

“So, where were you heading?” he asked me.

Blushing, I quickly got up to my feet.

“It’s alright,” I said, “You can just leave those here, you don’t have to carry them for me.”

He shook his head and looked at me rather disapprovingly.

“No,no,” he said, his expression serious. “That’s not right. I knocked you down, therefore I shall help you carry these boxes to make up for it. Got it?”

I hesitated, searching for the words to say. Nervously, I tugged at the cuff of my sleeve, not knowing whether to thank him or outright insisting that I carried it myself. I felt the man’s stare at me, perhaps waiting for me to answer him. Nevertheless, I just stood there in silence, fidgeting. The only sounds to be heard by the desolate streamside were the lonely howling of the winter winds through the valley, echoing against the mountainsides and the terracotta rooftops.

He soon got tired, and with a sigh, started to walk down the stream where I was heading earlier. It took me quite a while to realise that he was walking off with the Mistress’s fish, and when I did, he was already quite a few metres ahead of me, down the snow-covered path by the stream.

“W-wait,” I cried out nervously, as I took off to catch up to him.

As I walked beside me to catch my breath, he looked at me from the side, and the edges of his lips curled up into a mischievous smirk.

“Don’t be so stubborn, yeah?” he added, chuckling. “You might end up running out of breath.”

“That’s not really nice,” I playfully chided him, to which he laughed.

“So. . . Where are we headed?” he asked, the boxes in front of him nearly blocking his view of the ground in front of him.

“To the main shrine,” I replied, toying around with the edge of my shawl. “It’s on the street heading from the bridge after the municipal building.

“Alright,” he said as he walked, boots trudging in the snow.

We practically walked down the street in silence, but in my head, a thousand questions were flinging themselves at me. Who was this man? Where was he from? A soft wind blew and his maroon scarfed, wrapped around his neck fluttered, as well as his thick grey winter coat. The faint tinges of cologne slowly crept by to me. As if it was the most natural thing to happen, he ended up walking in front with my two boxes, while I lagged behind.

What really caught my attention was that when we walked past the portrait of His Majesty hanging outside the municipal building, he did not bow at all. Well, I guess it would’ve been alright, since he was carrying a load for me. Perhaps His Majesty, in all his benevolence forgives this man on this account. I, on the other hand, stopped for a while and faced the portrait. Curtly, I took a small bow, since I didn’t want to cause trouble for the man who was helping carry my things if I bowed for too long. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but wonder why he completely ignored the portrait altogether. It was rather strange, since I’ve seen the porters carrying boxes from the barges to the market, and they would still take the time to bow to the portrait. This man was certainly strange indeed.

When the both of us were walking on the bridge, I fastened my pace to catch up with him. As I walked beside him, I wanted to ask him all kinds of questions, but my lips clamped shut. He was an outsider, surely he would know what was happening outside Iwaizumi wouldn’t he? Nevertheless I still kept silent, telling myself that I should not bury strangers with questions, and that I would only make myself seem rude and imposing. We only talked after we both reached the bright red torii gate at the entrance of the shrine complex, its red paint a beautiful contrast to the surrounding white snow and grey stone. The both of us stopped to talk at the entrance, underneath the shadow of the red torii. Thankfully, the Master and Mistress seemed to be inside the main house somewhere, lest they did not see us. If I were caught talking to a man all alone, I would have been scolded and chastised.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be talking to a man all alone like that,” they would say disapprovingly.

I looked to the sides and behind me, just in case the Master and Mistress decided that that winter afternoon was a beautiful day to spend in the frozen grounds of the shrine courtyard. Thankfully, they weren’t anywhere

“Thank you,” I said, lowering my head down to bow, “I’m sorry if I was a bother.”

“No worries,” he said, dusting his hands together after he placed the boxes on the ground, crushing the pile of white flakes with a rather muffled crunch. “Just doing what I owe you.”

I shook my head.

“If there’s anything I could help you with,” I offered, my left palm on my chest. “I’d be glad to be of help.”

The man looked at me, his right eyebrow raised. He then shoved both his hands into his pockets and chuckled.

“Well. . .” he began, his eyes fleeting from one spot of the ground to another, “I was wondering if you knew any place that I could spend a night or two.”

I rubbed my chin as I thought of his question. I racked my mind thinking of places where this man could stay and rest for a while. I supposed his stay in Iwaizumi would be a short one, and I couldn’t help but wonder and speculate why he would bother visiting a small town like this even.

“If you go into town, past the municipal building you’d get to the inn at the end of the road,” I said, my arm out, pointing out the directions as we both stood there on the slightly hilly road, overlooking the entire town. “I can bring you there if you like,” I offered him.

“No thank you,” the man said, chuckling. “I don’t really frequent inns and hotels. I find them too expensive, and they can get pretty crowded.”

“Well, there are some people who might be willing to take you in,” I said. “Well, there’s an old widow down the street who might take you in for a short while. Well, her son was conscripted, so she has some extra space in her house. Besides, I’m sure the company would deal her some good as well.”

“The army eh?” the man asked me, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “I see.”

He then looked away into the far distance, to the peaks of the mountains scraping the fabric of the dull sky. His gaze seemed empty for a while, his eyes hollow.

“Anyway, no thanks,” he said after that, white mists dissipating into the cold air with each time he spoke. “Well, I’ll figure something out.”

He raised his hand in farewell, before turning around, his back facing me as he started to walk back towards the town centre. Slinging his haversack on his right shoulder he treaded in the white snow.

“Wait!” I called out, my voice penetrating the air of the empty street. “I-I do know a place.”

The man stopped and turned around. He looked at me with a questioning expression, eyebrow raised. His hands were still deeply buried in his pockets. He was probably cold I guess.

“Well, it’s quite far from here,” I said nervously, my fingers fidgeting. “But I’m sure it’s a rather suitable place for you.”

“Where specifically?” he asked.

“Up there,” I pointed in the direction of the mountains behind the shrine. “In the middle of the forest.”

“Well, sounds great,” he said, walking towards me with a smile. “Peace and quiet, in the middle of the mountains.”

At his behest, I led him through the shrine complex. The both of us snuck behind the shrine and the house, before we reached the back gate. My heart pounded with every step I took, careful not to step on anything loud enough to attract attention. Fortunately for us, neither the Master nor the Mistress seemed to have been alerted by our movement near the peripheral of the building.

Closing the creaking gate behind me, I let out a sigh of relief as the two of us climbed up the winding path. The trees on both sides of the trail were bare, with nothing but snow blanketing their branches devoid of leaves. The rocks were slippery, and the both of us were careful to watch where we treaded. A wrong step could mean a fall, ending up with a graze, or worse, a fracture. The view of the snow-covered town disappeared behind us as I led the man deeper and deeper into the forest, swallowed by the frosty foliage.

We soon reached a clearing in the forest, covered by thick, pure white snow, untouched. I smiled to myself, thinking of the times when I was a child. Such vivid memories I had of those fireflies glowing in the summer nights. Even I, alone, with no siblings for company, felt less lonely with the sight of the glowing fireflies in the bushes. Armed with just a torchlight, I would set off on many of those nights, under the dark sky to kill the loneliness of the childhood of a shrine girl. The Master and Mistress never knew about that of course, they had always thought I was in town, playing with the other children. It was then, those days as a lonely child did I discover the place I was about to lead the man to.

“The winters sure are pretty harsh here,” the man suddenly remarked, taking a glance at the layers of pure white around us.

“Well, we’re all pretty used to it,” I responded, giggling. “Snow and harsh winters are just part and parcel of our lives.”

“Down in the south,” he said, still looking around himself, “It rarely even snows.”

“You’re from the south?” I asked, trying to keep up with the conversation.

The south, a land that feels so far away from here. I’ve never been there, and I wondered what it was like. It must be a nice place dotted with neon-lit cities, and beautiful pagodas. I really hope I could visit the south one day, but I don’t think that’ll ever be possible. Yet, a girl can dream can’t she?

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding. “It’s pretty warm down there. In summer, it gets almost unbearable.”

It was then that I remembered something important. I stopped in my tracks, not sure whether I should lead him in further into the forest. I kept quiet to myself, my hands clutching onto my shawl. He seemed to have noticed my behaviour, glancing at me with a rather confused look on his face.

“Is there anything wrong?” he asked, straightening his coat.

I gulped.

“Actually. . .” I began, my heart beginning to fill with guilt. “I don’t think there’s any electricity there. Maybe we should turn back.”

The man looked at me, before turning away, laughing, the back of his knuckles over his lips. I looked down, my cheeks getting warm. Did I say something wrong?

“Well, I’m fine without electricity,” he said, turning to me. “Our ancestors lived for thousands of years without it, and they didn’t die out because of that did they?”

With that, we continued our trek in the forest. At long last, after much walking through the desolate woods, we reached a dilapidated structure amidst the tall pines.

It was an old house, made of wood. It was long abandoned, and its roof was caving in. Broken shoji panels lay about at awkward angles. The fenced-in yard was covered in snow, and the door to the small shed at the peripheral of the main house was broken. I suppose a hunter and his family might have lived there before, but when I found it about ten years ago, the inhabitants were already long gone. In the summer, the yard would be full of weeds and long, overgrown blades of grass. In the nooks of the wooden beams, birds would make nests and lay eggs, their chirps resonating against the empty wooden walls. I’ve been in there once or twice, and once I even explored the back of the shed. Although it seems like the house was built on flat and open ground, perhaps due to all the trees growing around it, there was actually a ravine behind the main building. When I was young, I once walked to the back of the building, after I grew bored of exploring the dusty interiors. Indeed, there was a ravine, with a sharp drop of about three to four metres between the house and the rocks below.

I led the man into the building, slowly pushing the rickety sliding door. The door creaked in reluctance to the two sudden visitors. As light entered the desolate building, it revealed to us what a sorry state it was in. The tatami was old and peeled, and some of the wood-and-paper walls have all but collapsed. Some of the wooden panels had caved in into the ground, and dust was everywhere. With every step we took, there seemed to be a cloud of dust sent into the air.

“I’m sorry,” I apologised to the man, bowing. “This is the only place I can think of.”

“Well,” he said, placing his haversack on the ground and examining his surroundings. “It’s not too bad, I’ve slept in worst places.”

The man started pacing around the entrance room, taking a look at the abandoned, broken furnishings, before stepping outside once again. Worried that he might’ve been disappointed, I went out after him. I found him looking into the shed at the edge of the compound.

“Ah, there’s even firewood in here!” he exclaimed in delight. “That’s great isn’t it?”

“I-if you don’t mind,” I muttered, “I’ll go and clean the house for you,” I offered, before turning around to quickly sort things out in the inside.

“You don’t have to,” he said, “You’ve already went through all the trouble of bringing me here.”

“I-it’s not that,” I muttered, clutching my shawl. “I just feel so bad for bringing you to a place like this.”

The man shook his head and sighed.

“I’ve already told you, there’s no need for that,” he said. “I’ll just get a fire going in the hearth, and that would be fine already.”

With that, he took a step back from the shed, and took another long look at the surrounding pines. The sky was getting slightly clearer, the dull, monotonous clouds clearing up. The man took a deep breath and exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Well,” he said, glancing at me, a smile etched on his lips. “You won’t get this back in Nagasaki.”

I could only nod my head in silence, not really knowing what to say.

“I-I’ll come back tomorrow then,” I said, breaking the silence.

As I turned around and slowly made my way to the small opening in the fence, I heard his voice cut through the cold, dry air once more.

“Wait,” he called out, “I’m sorry, you already did me a huge favour, yet I didn’t manage to catch your name.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “Fujiwara Shirayuki. I’ll be in your care,” I continued, bowing slightly.

“Well,” the man said, folding his arms, “Thank you so much for today, Fujiwara-san. I’m Miyazawa Hiroto, I hope I’ll be in your care as well,” he added, nodding.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll make something nice for you.”

“I look forward to it then,” he said with a laugh. “See you tomorrow.”

He walked with me to the opening in the fence, and watched me as I left. I turned around, intending to take a glance at him and the house again, and I saw him standing there, waving at me. His fringe fluttered in the wind, along with his maroon scarf.

As I made my way back to the shrine, thinking of alibis if the Master and Mistress were to notice my absence or the box of shishamo by the torii, I couldn’t help but think of the stranger by the name of Miyazawa Hiroto. He said he was from the south, Nagasaki. He must have travelled far to get here, and he must have been to a lot of places. With that, the seeds of curiosity began to bloom in my heart.

In an Empire of glory and veneration, there are hopes and dreams.

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Author's Note: Hello :) Once again, thank you for reading. I really appreciate it!!! :)

I'm really sorry it took me about a month to update this chapter, I've been pretty busy after the New Year's Holidays, with all the school work as well as updating Origami Girl. Sadly, my writing speed has been diminished to 1-2 chapters a month. But I do try my best though, up to the point where I literally fall asleep in front of my computer （＞。＜）

That being said, I hope you guys don't mind me asking some questions! Well, I've always wanted to gather feedback to know how to tweak my writing, so I hope you guys won't mind! I hope I don't make this is sound like a Literature question :3 (Also, most of this chapter was written when I was half-asleep, so all your feedback would really, really help me!)

Well, I do have my own targets and goals for each chapter, and if you guys could help me answer the following questions, I'll really appreciate it!

1) What do you think was the main thing I was trying to portray in this chapter?

2) What do you think of the society the protagonist lives in?

3) Now that you've read the prologue, and could somehow link the events of the prologue to that in Chapter 1, where do you think this story is heading? Does it still pique your interest?

Thank you! ! !