Yamiyo no Hotaru

Chapter 47

In the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the light from the Gomafueki[1] flames, the voices of sutra chanting were echoing endlessly. So long that the boy did not know how many hundreds or thousands of times the sutras had been read, and he did not even have a sense of time anymore.

　The room was filled with the smell of incense and opium that obscured his thoughts... and there was also the smell of alcohol, sweat, and a stench of a man that was so strong that it almost choked him out.

　But how many hours had passed since he had been stripped of his clothes and laid on the bed? He didn't care about that and no longer thought about the sounds of flesh rubbing against the flesh, the sound of running water, and the muffled screams... He simply closed his mind, emotionless, expressionless, waiting for it all to pass.

　For him, this sacred ritual was a lie and the miracle was just a deception. All that existed was a torrent of desire, and he was just a pathetic sacrifice.

　After a while and the deed is done, the lump of flesh that had been covering him retreats. The boy thought he was finally released, but he was wrong, and the next guest arrives as if he had been waiting for him. And the boy cannot refuse them.

　As an incarnation of Buddha, the boy must accept and forgive all the sins and desires of the world in this ritual, and more practically, he has nowhere to return to even if he escapes from this place. No matter how painful it was, he had no choice. He would be doomed to be a beggar or a thief or some other job similar to the one here, and in any case, he would not be able to live for very long. No, in the first place, he may not even make it out of here alive...

　(Ha, what am I thinking. Me...)

　The boy thinks and smiles. He smiles without any effort. He realizes that thinking about trivial things is itself a kind of escape from reality. Normally he would be mindlessly counting stains on the ceiling, but it seems that he has finally lost the ability to do even that.

　...In other words, he was tired of all the circumstances surrounding him.

　And because of that.

　(Better still....)

　The boy's eyes take on a weird color as the shadows overtaking him howl like beasts, and the reality of his own existence is being smothered by the shadows. The boy thinks somewhat inertially, with a fixed look in his eyes, perhaps intoxicated by the vaporized essence of alcohol.

　It's a life that can't be helped, a helpless life, a life that can't be saved. If there is no saint in this world, there is no paradise and no salvation for the weak who are only being exploited. The world is a harsh place, and the weak are simply exploited like livestock. This is what the boy has come to know to the point of disgust since his parents sent him to this temple as a ransom in exchange for a little money.

　Or is this enlightenment? If so, the boy laughs scornfully at the very funny thing. This is what hell is really like.

　"It's really a funny story."

　Then he has no more regrets for this world. There's no hope for the rest of his life, and it will be nothing but pain and suffering. Then... let's just do it...!

　As he is being devoured, the boy suddenly sees a vajra pestle[2] in his field of vision, which has been... discarded. He squints slightly and slowly reaches for it on the floor. With a suspicious glint in his eyes, his mouth twisted into a miserable smile, he grabs it, and the next moment, he raises it...

　"Ha!?"

　Shirowakamaru woke up with palpitations. His nightclothes is soaked with sweat, and he feels uncomfortable. He had unconsciously flailed about in the heat and humidity and had pulled it open a little. After hurriedly fixing it, the boy realized. He noticed that there was no lingering scent of alcohol, incense, or male odor, which usually stimulated his nostrils when he woke up.