3-re

Rites without the soul will remain as habitual series of events.

Until you have experienced hardships, will you then appreciate peace.

===

The sky had just began to brighten. There was a noticeable amount of light shining through the window, onto the straw matted flooring.

He was lying in a futon, motionless and asleep. The next moment, he sprang up frantically. Panicking, he looked around the room, as if searching for something. Then, yesterday’s memories crept up to him.

Mosirihi.

Calming down, he got up and walked slowly towards the window. There were some other houses quite far away from where he was. They were all built simply, with wood and stone, just like Nissui’s house.

There were also a few trees right next to the window. Light enveloped these trees from behind, giving them a magnificent aura.

The sound of crickets. The occasional bird call.

Suddenly, he was touched, as he suddenly had a feeling that he had not observed such things for a long time. The reason for this eluded him, however.

He then turned, and walked out of the room.

Walking on the wooden corridor, he saw Nissui. She seemed to be busy, carrying various ceremonial items out from a room.

He walked closer to her, with slow, steady footsteps, and greeted her enthusiastically.

She paused, and turned to look at him. She then returned the greeting with a bright, cheerful tone. She then remarked about how he was up so early in the morning. He scratched his head, and said that he did not know why, either.

Nissui smiled and said nothing. She continued to carry the bronze vessel she was holding towards the porch. Asking him to wait a bit, she said that they would have breakfast after she had set the vessel properly.

===

It was a pile of plain steamed buns, but he relished it. Nissui makes excellent food, he thought.

He asked Nissui about the items she was moving out of the room that morning.

Nissui explained that it was for the village’s autumn festival, which would take place in a few days’ time.

The festival, named the Umusa-iwai, was in memorial of the village’s ancestors, originally a group of nomads who found Mosirihi as a place to settle. The land had been kind to them, and blessed them with abundant resources. Thus, this festival was to give thanks to the land as well.

He listened through Nissui’s expository with interest, but then sighed afterwards.

He then remarked that he had to go back to where he came from, and could not stay for the festival.

Just then, Nissui asked him a question.

“Where are you from?”

===

The steamed bun he was holding dropped on the table.

He was stunned for quite some time.

He tried to recall, but the mind was blank. Opening his mouth, he tried to say something. Nothing came out.

He thought he had another place he belonged to, but it was naught.

“I have no past,” he finally said. Feeling despaired, he tilted his head down, and his hands rested onto the table.

Nissui gazed at him for a while, then leaned over and patted his head, comforting him.

“I will take you in,” she said, “The village will readily accept you as well.”

He looked up, face brightened.

Daybreak. The world was just awakening. Sunlight shone in through the front door into the house.

Just like the nomads of the past, he had also settled into Mosirihi.