Chapter 43

Prologue, The God of Abundant Fruit

Did you hear the sound of a bell?

That's wonderful. It's actually a very good sign.

Is this your first time here, student?

Traveling? Ah, for a university seminar. What are you studying? Folklore! Then I suppose this is what you'd call fieldwork.

I see, then this land is perfect for that.

When you came here, you saw a big bridge, didn't you?

Yes, a big, beautiful red bridge. Like something out of the Dragon Palace.

It's been there since the Edo period, and it has historical value just for that, but it's not a cultural property.

It's been repaired many times from long ago to now. It used to be a much simpler bridge, but over time, it was expanded and became so lavish.

If it had been preserved in its original state, it might have become a World Heritage Site, but there's something more important than that.

Yes, we wanted to make it especially beautiful so that people watching from under the bridge could enjoy it.

Not the ones crossing it, but the ones below.

As a student, you might know this from your field.

Do you know about human pillars?

Ah, don't make that face. It's not something scary. It's actually a good story.

That river is calm now, but in the past, it flowed more violently, and every time a storm came, the bridge and embankments would break, and the village would suffer greatly.

Especially around where that big bridge is now—it's a corner of the embankment, so no matter how many times they built a bridge, it kept getting destroyed.

After discussing that perhaps it was the river god's anger, they decided to erect a human pillar.

They would bury someone in the embankment and ask the god to protect the village by delivering their prayer.

By today's standards, it's frightening, but back then, it was considered an honor.

When the question came up of who would take on that great role, the choice fell on a girl from a poor family living on the outskirts of the village.

The family had drifted in from elsewhere and were like traveling shamans, offering prayers during plagues and such.

When the father became ill and they could no longer travel, they happened to settle in this village, and it seems the landowner's son helped them out a lot.

Perhaps out of gratitude, the girl said, "If I can be of help to the village that so warmly welcomed drifters like us," and willingly accepted.

The villagers immediately dug a hole in the embankment, built a small shrine, and buried the girl inside.

According to tradition, the human pillar's limbs had to be bound, but the girl said, "It's fine to tie me up, but please let me hold the bells my parents used for prayer."

As long as I live, I'll keep ringing the bells in prayer. When the sound stops, take it as a sign I've gone to the god, and then build the bridge.

She must have been a girl with a pure heart until the very end.

After that, the sound of bells echoed through the village for seven days and seven nights.

On the eighth night, when the sound finally stopped—no matter how honorable it was—the girl's parents must have been heartbroken at the loss of their child.

The couple jumped into the river to follow their daughter and were never seen again.

The villagers held a proper memorial for the three of them and then built the bridge.

Perhaps their prayers were answered, because ever since then, neither the embankment nor the bridge has broken, and the river has become unbelievably calm.

It's truly a blessing.

Some time later, people in the village began to say they heard the sound of bells.

At first they were scared, but when no storms came, they began to think the girl was still praying for them.

When the landowner's son was nearing death, he left a will saying they should enshrine the girl as a god to express gratitude to the three and beautify the bridge and river.

Even now, with the landowner's family gone, only that legend remains.

What's wrong, student? You look frightened.

You're wondering if the sound of the bell is creepy?

Not at all. It's something to be grateful for.

You're asking if she didn't resent the village even though she was made a sacrifice?

That's right.

It's because she didn't feel that way that she became a god.