去年のちょうど今頃に米国Strange Horizon誌に投稿しようと思ってDeepLとみらい翻訳を駆使して作成した拙作「丑の刻の平安京に羅城門が顕現し、下人が侍を鞭打ちしこと」の英訳です。「チャイコフスキーの亀頭」翻訳されたら面白かったのに……と言ってくださっているのを見て存在を思い出しました。
英訳の過程でちょこちょこと文の中身を変えたりした……記憶があるのですが、日本語の方は直さなかったしどこを変えたのかもう忘れました。1年前だから仕方ないですね。
SH誌にはRejectされ、そのままになっておりました。ご笑覧あれ。
Once upon a time, in Japan during the Heian era. There was a child, who would later become a servant in the Heian-kyō, in a hideout of thieves based in a mountain. It was a boy born to one of the women who surrounded the hideout. It was the rule that newly born children were to be discarded, but sometimes the chieftain would let the women raise them. So, to the servant, the women were mothers.
The mothers loved the servant. They milked the servant and gave him words.
Your real mother died shortly after giving birth. Poor thing.
The servant had no idea what the word "real mother" meant. There was always more than one mother.
The bandits attacked a group of merchants and officials passing through the mountain path and stripped them of their clothes. The men were killed all by thieves to prevent vengeance. The women were let go, or sometimes some of them were kidnapped and surrounded in the hideout. Instead, some of the original women were abandoned. The faces of the mothers changed frequently.
As the servant grew up, he was sent out to steal.
His first job was to help steal a temple bell.
First, an old thief dressed as an old priest went to the temple. He successfully got him to stay in the bell hall and then pretended to be dead. The servant went to the temple with one of his brothers, cried furiously for the old priest's death, and left, saying that he would come back in the evening to get the corpse. The monks of the temple were crying in sympathy.
The rest was the works of the older thieves. Some of them stole the bell pretending to carry a dead body. The companions of the secular priests banged the bells and raised the sutra. By the time the period of mourning expires and the monk opened the bell hall, the bells had been melted, cast, and sold at the market.
The mothers were saddened to see the servant become a full-fledged thief.
One day a mother was brought to the hideout and told him that she used to be a Nyōbō(女房, female servants in Heian era, who often have high education and sometimes became a tutor of the noble daughters) in the Heian-kyō.
She taught the servant how to read and write with a branch on the ground. The servant soon learned to read and write with both the Okotode(男手, the Chinese characters) and the On'nade(女手, Hiragana). She also taught him how to play the Koto(琴, a kind of Japanese harp).
The woman recited the tale of "Genji" to the mothers and the servant at nights, and everyone thought about noble people's lives and love affairs.
Eventually, the servant came of age, but his mothers were still his mothers. He loathed the thieves who would shake his mothers in their sleep and have sexual intercourse.
I had always wanted to have a romance with a man like "Hikaru Genji".
When he said this to the Nyōbō woman, she laughed at him, but when she saw that the servant was not laughing, she shut her mouth. She told him that he should go to the Heian-kyō, or else he should be a monk. She returned to the gathering of his mothers.
Soon after, an army of officials and nobles invaded the hideout.
When the Nyōbō heard the news, she beat the servant into sleep and forced him to put on Nyōbō-Shōzoku(装束, a formal dress), which she had secretly hidden from the stolen goods. When the servant awoke, all the men thieves were killed, even the boys, and the women and the servant were made to stand in front of the hideout.
One of the nobles, Who worked as a Zuryo(受領, the head of provincial governors who was sent to local provinces), wished to take some of them back as housemaids, and the Nyōbō woman stepped forward having the servant's hand.
This woman is a former Nyōbō who used to serve the court, and I beg you to treat her as such a person.
The Zuryo wondered if it was true or not, but once the servant recited the Chinese classics, they believed it. He was to be taken in as the Nyōbō of Zuryo's house in the capital.
Without saying a word, the mothers tearfully sent the servant off on his way to the capital.
The heads of the men carried with the plunder rotted day by day, and by the time they were exposed in the Heian-kyō, it was impossible to tell who belonged to whom.
The Heian-kyō was not at all the same as the impression the servant got from the tale of "Genji".
The Rashomon(羅生門), which was said to have been the main gate of the Heian-kyō, had long ago collapsed, leaving only what looked like the remains of a pillar. The servant shut down his mouth by the smells of corpses and fecal matter in the street. Between the curtain of the ox cart, the fattest flies the servant had seen were coming. When the ox carts entered a little less crowded area, they were attacked by starving dogs, and there was a great clamor for coachmen and bodyguards to beat the dogs to death with sticks and knives.
The Zuryo's residence was about two lots down from the intersection of Shichijo-Street and Higashitoin-Street. It was certainly not near the Imperial Palace, but it looked large compared to the surrounding houses. There were several buildings clustered within the wall, and there was even a pond or a warehouse of property. The servent was impressed, but he was told that very often this residence would be subjected to mass robberies or arson, so you would be living in another house a short distance away, and that we only came here to get our stuff.
The other house was a small mansion located much closer to the Imperial Palace. The daughter of the Zuryo lived here with a few servants.
The tutor, who had originally been there, had been discovered her talent at a Uta-Awase(歌合, a Waka contest), and worked as a Nyōbō in the Imperial Palace. Because the daughter had been taught by such a smart teacher, she was very clever, though still very young. The servant had nothing more to teach her about Waka or Chinese classics.
On the other hand, she was not very good at the Koto, and the servant was relieved that he had something left to teach her. They practiced the koto every day, and when they got bored, they spent time composing Waka, reading the scrolls of the tale of "Genji", and discuss them.
A few years later, just as the daughter received an offer to serve as Nyōbō in Imperial Palace, a plague began to spread in the Heian-kyō.
Those who got the plague firstly found red rashes appeared on the inner side of their arms, and soon they spread over the whole body with a high fever. When the faint smell of burning flesh began to appear, the patients vomited blood, turning pale, and died.
In the house of Zuryo, A few of the house-maids fell first, and the daughter was next. The servant watched in amazement as she died in agony.
A short time after sending the messenger, the Zuryo appeared in grief before the servant.
Such a mess is the Heian-kyō. Really bad. There are Onis (鬼, Japanese demons), running around with torn arms and heads of corpses.
The Zuryo told the servant that he was ready to adopt the servant as his daughter, in a voice with a faint tear in it. It was something the servant hadn't expected to hear. The servant thought for a moment, then smiled and shook his head, standing up and starting to undress his Nyōbō-Shōzoku. The Zuryo's face, which blushed a little each time the servant dropped his single robe to the floor, lost its blood again as the servant's naked upper-body was exposed. And by the time the servant became naked, the Zuryo fainted.
The servant changed into the clothes of a servant.
The servant, who seemed to be servant-like, left the house and wandered around, with a full set of Nyōbō-Shōzoku and daily necessities in a basket on his back.
The pestilence had produced mass deaths. The death of the common people was a mere tragedy, but that of noble people produced a large number of unemployed people, and there were more street people than usual. They all had the puffed-up bellies because of malnutrition, wore nothing, were soiled with dirt and grime that it was impossible to distinguish between young and old, male and female. They seemed to slump powerlessly but swarmed the corpses with surprising agility when they were thrown outside.
Okay, I am convinced why the Zuryo thinks them as Oni.
These people often had died of the plague, being attacked by dogs, or being beaten by thugs.
As the servant got closer to the Imperial Palace, he came across some of the people who were collecting the dismembered bodies for some reason. The servant spoke to one of the men, and he looked at the servant suspiciously but told thus.
The ravens and the black kites frequently would drop these things on the way to their nests. We make a living disposing of corpses. The Kebi'ishi(検非違使, the Japanese police department in Heian era) would give us money if we cleaned up them that occurred near the Imperial Palace or the houses of the nobility.
He said that several groups made a living doing that work and rewards vary so depending on the degree of defilement, that the issue of Which group picks up Which corpse from Where was a very sensitive matter. While they were talking, a skirmish broke out between some groups in the distance. The man left, saying he had to assist his group's side.
Night after night, the servant crept into the house of the bachelor, where its body was said to have been found. He carried the body out and dumped it in a vacant lot. Then he returned to the house, put on his Nyōbō-Shōzoku, and played the Koto.
After a while, the servant saw a man-shaped shadow behind the curtain and hear the voice of a man reciting a waka. The message included in waka was, "I glimpse a beautiful woman in this ruined hermitage that I have arrived at, drawn by the dreamy sound of the koto."
The servant thought for a moment and read a replying waka, meant "I have been playing the tune you taught me in my dream, remembering your figure in my dream."
A nobleman walked in through the curtain. The servant hid his face with an Ogi(扇, a Japanese foldable fan), and look at the nobleman. He was disappointed to see that the nobleman didn't look particularly glowing.
the nobleman talked to her.
I heard the one who lived in this house died.
I live, sir.
You? I heard you were an old man.
It happens sometimes. A metamorphosis.
The man stood and pulled out a katana, blocking the exit.
Are you a ghost? Or a robber?
I've never heard of a ghost or a robber who make a waka or play the Koto, sir.
The man seemed to understand and put his katana back in its scabbard. The servant thought, "I see that the noble people have a head as simple as a bug." The nobleman tried to push the servant down to the floor, but the servant dodged him lightly, saying something like "It's not tastefully to spend this marvelous night just sleeping," and gave him a drink of the liquor, which the servant had stolen from this house.
Have you killed a man before, sir?
Why do you ask me so?
I think men are great, those who have chivalry.
The man began to brag about slaying a rival nobleman with his katana, or about beating a clumsy cowherd to death. The servant thought that this guy was totally fucking, quite unlike "Hikaru Genji". "Hikaru Genji" was not a brutal murderer.
The servant knocked the man into a sleep with a blow, then stripped him, threw his garments in the back basket, and left the house.
The servant did the same thing over and over again after that, but each time he was disappointed -- he never met a splendid man like "Hikaru Genji". Any of the noblemen, whom he encountered, had committed a pleasure killing at least once. He thought that the beasts are walking around the Imperial Palace, with high-priced clothes.
Still, the servant was hoping that someday he would be glimpsed by someone as virtuous as "Hikaru Genji".
One night, the servant saw a high shadow looming in front of the curtain. He stopped playing the Koto and looked up, but the shadow stood there still and did not seem to move. The servant became impatient at its silence and read a song, meaning: "Why are you standing so still? you're able to see into my heart as well as this room, and you know you can come in."
The man looked like a samurai, silently walked through the curtain, and stood in front of the servant.
The servant asked the samurai what he wanted. The samurai become hesitate again but eventually spoke in a faint voice.
I have a favor.
The samurai looked down and handed the servant a wooden whip.
What is this?
A whip.
I know what it IS. I am asking you why you have given me such a thing.
The samurai didn't answer, and turned his back and peeled off his kimono, exposing his upper body. Thousands of old scars, ugly and raised, could be seen running diagonally across his hairy back.
The servant pointed to the exit with his hand.
Please leave.
The samurai crouched down in the servant's feet and tearfully told the story of what had happened to himself so far.
He used to serve in the Imperial Palace as a samurai, and he took a woman as his wife. One day, however, his wife beat him hundreds of times with a whip, and for some reason, he ended up working as the leader of a robbery gang.
A few years later, his beloved wife disappeared, along with all the household goods, and the man was taken by the Kebi'ishi and thrown into prison. Even though he had served his sentence and wandered around the palace, he was unable to find his wife and grieving.
Then he heard the sound of the Koto.
When I met my former wife for the first time, she was also playing that tune. There is no altering our destiny, you and me. Now, whip me.
I understand. May I ask you to leave?
The samurai began to cry miserably. His clothes became more and more loose and disheveled as his body trembled, and the servant could see that his buttocks and even his thighs were covered with similar scars.
The servant made up his mind that he would tell him the truth, and peeled off his clothes to reveal his upper body.
Are you satisfied now? You must understand I can't be the alternative of your wife.
That's not a problem. My wife was dressed as a man when she whipped me.
Sorrowfully weeping, the samurai showed the Suikan-Bakama(水干袴, a trouser that Japanese man used to wear in Heian-era) and an Eboshi(烏帽子, a hat that Japanese man used to wear in Heian-era), which his ex-wife had left behind.
The servant thought that he had no choice, so he decided to give the samurai a whipping.
The servant lashes the samurai once to see how the whip felt. A whip was a whip, a light strike left a sharp gash on the samurai's thick hardened back, and blood seeped out. The servant didn't like the fact that the samurai let out a voice sounded like he was gingerly enduring, because that was truly imminent. The servant thought it should be a bit of fun at least, that is, "Ouch!❤︎"or something like that.
The servant changed his mind and asked how many times he should flog. The samurai replied in a strangely clear voice: Eighty times, please.
By the time the servant finished the eighty times whipping, the samurai's back was covered in blood, but he just said he was fine. As dressing his wound, the servant felt inexplicable unreasonableness, and tears streamed down his face.
As the servant was to leave, the samurai took the servant's hands in him and asked to wait.
Please allow me to thank you. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you.
For some reason, the servant couldn't take his eyes off of that sincere gaze, and unconsciously asked his usual question.
Have you ever killed someone for no reason?
The samurai thought for a moment and then assured him that he hadn't. The servant left the house, not knowing why he had asked such a question.
The servant stopped waiting for a glimpse of noblemen after that day. He was afraid that the samurai would come again. Then the servant had to join a bandit gang to earn a living.
If only you had been born in the Heian-kyō. You would never have had to be a thief. You could have become anything, you know.
The mothers of the servant used to say that to him. He became anything. After acting like a Nyōbō, he'd disguise himself as a peddler to sell the possessions he'd extorted from the nobility. That's how he managed to make a living. And now he is in a robbery gang again.
Not all members of Robbery gangs in the Heian-kyō only lived off of robbery. There were even merchants, priests, officials, and Nyōbō. Those who worked in the homes of the nobility often sold information and even set fire to the houses themselves. They were truly the merchants, priests or so, but simultaneously they were a robber.
The servant went to work as a servant in the houses of the nobility with the help of his fellow robbers, and when they would carry out a robbery, he scouted around the targeted house and assassinated the noblemen.
When he saw a troupe of traveling entertainers coming to the main street of the Heian-kyō, he couldn't help but remember his origins. Someone scouted in the street and asked merchants to open the place. Some speak aloud to get people's attention. Some perform, sing, and dance. Some carry and assemble tools. Some collect money. They must be good at robbery too, the servant thought.
The servant hadn't given up on "Hikaru Genji". As a real servant, he began to go to the Imperial Palace. But no matter how many times he peeked at the noble banquet, none of the men was glowing as "Genji", and he mostly despaired.
Just as the servant began to wonder if he should go to Uji or somewhere, a red rash appeared on the inside of his arm. The fever rose incredibly quickly, and he, being unable to move, was dragged out from the Inner Palace and dumped it in an alley.
The servant couldn't even keep his eyes open, but he could still feel the hungry dogs and the starving street people approaching. Just as he was ready to be attacked, someone carried him upon its back.
Would I be dumped on the riverbank, despite not being dead yet? How my defilement was deemed worth... How much this carrier will be paid for dumping me?
The servant's consciousness darkened.
The servant woke up in a small room. It seemed like a strange room or any of the rooms where he had spent a night so far and met the noblemen.
The sound of a curtain fluttering in the wind caught his ears, and when he turned his eyes, he saw the shadow of a man reflected in the curtain. It was slender and tall, with a faint glow.
When the servant stepped out of the curtain, there was no man in sight, only being left his traces, a faint light, behind. He followed the light and came to the Suzaku-street.
He could see the glow with gold in the far south end. He did not notice that there were no dead bodies and no wild dogs in the street.
As the servant passed Shichijo street, an unfamiliar building came into view. When he reached the southern end of the capital, he found that a huge building stood on the location where the ruins of the Rashomon Gate was. He seemed that it resembled the Suzaku Gate.
He opened the gate. The light was leaking out of the upper floor. He climbed the ladder and set his foot on the upper floor. He came across an old woman picking the hair of a corpse, but he walked past her. At the end of the corridor, he found the golden glow. As he got closer, he saw that samurai sitting upright and glowing.
As the servant was about to leave, regretting that he had followed after the light, the samurai handed him the whip again.
Now, please whip me.
No. Definitely not.
Whip me. You must.
Why.
Whatever.
The servant was just about to leave when he heard a voice behind mumbling, "This woman, whose beautiful black hair I was pulling, used to sell cut and dried snake flesh at the guard barracks, saying that it was dried fish… ,” and he lost any intension to leave this place passing beside the woman. -- I don't want to move here until that old woman is done picking and leaving.
The servant thought that he had no choice, so he decided to give the samurai a whipping.
He asked the samurai how many times he should lash today, but again, without hesitation, the man said this: eighty times, please. The samurai was hung up on that number.
The servant started whipping the samurai reluctantly and got fed up with the samurai's muddy, unbearable voice again. If you're going to make me lash you anyway, it would have still been worth it if you feel more good feeling... that is, ecstasy or so.
The samurai suddenly turned around.
You're going easy on me.
What?
You don't have guts, huh?
The servant pretended not to have heard the words and flogged the samurai eighty times without thinking. The samurai's back was as hard and sturdy as an oak trunk, and the servant's hands went numb. He thought the samurai must have been very fine until he learned to take pleasure in being whipped like this.... the servant became vain.
It's done.
the samurai turned to the servant.
Thank you for whipping. Now, please whip my belly eighty times this time.
You're kidding, the servant shouted. The samurai's back was already shredded with lacerations, and what he should need was first aid, not a whip. No wicked man would whip him anymore.
You'll die.
This is nothing. Can't you see these old scars?
The samurai showed him his chest and belly. The servant could see the many scars there.
The servant could say nothing. The old woman's voice echoed again. "...What she did couldn't be wrong, because if she hadn't, she would have starved to death. There was no other choice. If she knew I had to do this in order to live, she probably wouldn't care."
The servant sympathized. He wondered if he could go with her to pluck the body's hair. The servant could not understand the laws. The servant was a robber. The servant killed people and stole things for a living.
The moment the servant was about to turn around, he was stopped by a strong grab on his shoulder.
You must not go that way.
Why?
Because you must not.
It seems to me that it would be more inappropriate to whip you than to take the property or lives of those who are guilty.
When the samurai heard this, he asked curiously why this was so. The servant was at a loss for an answer.
It is... because I am afraid that you are going to die.
I will not die. And if I die, what does it matter to you?
It's not... good.
Why do you think it's not good?
Because it is needless death, needless violence. This is not the same as robbery. Robbery is a way of life.
I'm in need. For me, being whipped is necessary to live.
I don't need whipping.
That's why it's GOOD. Now, would you kindly use me the whip?
That logic was completely unconvincing for the servant. He hesitated, but the samurai said loudly, "You shall whip me!". He pressed his body against the servant, and there was no room for escape.
The servant thought that he had no choice, so he decided to give the samurai a whipping.
The servant asked if it was okay to do it eighty times. The samurai nodded in condescension as if to say, "You don't have to ask.” The servant got irritated and unintentionally whip as hard as he could.
Ouch... Good whipping. Keep lashing me like that.
The servant felt really sick at heart. He pretended that he hadn't heard anything, and tried to flog the samurai mindlessly.
But unlike a whipping on the back, the servant could tell how the samurai's reacted by his expression now. He saw the samurai look like the pain was not enough when he whipped with his normal strength. He felt very uncomfortable and turned his face away.
Why...? Why do I have to whip such a freak...? O Buddha, is this my retribution for the sins I have committed so far...? Was it wrong for me to be born...?
The samurai's belly was as hard and sturdy as an oak trunk. By the time the servant finished whipping eighty times, his hands were numb.
Okay? This is the last time. I won't ever whip you again.
The servant looked up. The samurai was observing him while dripping blood from his entire body. He seemed like an Oni.
Did you enjoy whipping?
No.
You lashed me two hundred and forty times, and you didn't enjoy it at all.
I feel so bad.
So you hate violence, then.
What?
In truth, you don't like killing or stealing things from people. You understand the on'nade and is skilled with the koto. You can't like those brutal things.
Some thieves know how to read, write, and play the koto.
And that outfit. Why were you wearing your Nyōbō-Shōzoku?
I was just dressed as a woman, just as your wife was dressed as a man!
Then why did you ask such a question... "Have you ever killed a man for no reason?"
The servant couldn't answer.
The samurai embraced him. He found himself trembling. He didn't know why he was trembling. The smell of blood was thick and fragrant, and he could feel it hot and wet against his kimono, and he shuddered even louder.
Which is the core identity of you? You, the robber, or you, the Nyōbō? Which figure is your true wish?
The servant was about to answer when he woke up.
He was lying in a strange room. His cheeks were wet with tears, probably because of that obscure dream. He hadn't heard about the rebuilding of the Rashomon gate. Beyond that...
I'm alive...
He lifted his arm, which feels heavy and weak, and confirmed that there was no rash anymore. He couldn't believe it. He had never heard of anyone who had survived that disease. Was it the blessing of the Buddha? On me?
A stranger from outside, who he assumed was a nobleman, came in.
You're awake.
Yes...
This is my house. One of my men brought you here.
The servant surprised to the fact that the stranger decided to enter a dying patient in his house. If the servant had died in this house, it would have been a disaster for the stranger (for example, he would not able to serve in the Imperial Palace for a while). He smiled at the servant, saying that he has no one to blame for his actions.
The one who brought me here... could it be the samurai with scars all over his body?
That's right.
I would like to thank him.
He's dead.
Dead?
As soon as you were brought here, you began to vomit blood, and you could have died out at any moment. The man was nursing you intently, but by the time you became pale, he was crying in silence. Then, when it was almost the witching hour, he suddenly said he had to go, and left. This morning, he was found dead at the ruins of the Rashomon. In addition to being stripped clothes of his body, his hair had been plucked out completely, and with newly whip wounds all over his body...Are you OK?
I... I'm sorry for your loss.
The scene of the dream the servant had seen was rapidly coming back to his mind.
The stranger said that the servant could rest here as long as wanted. He left somewhere else, and never appeared again. He was a beautiful man, with an unreliable, willowy neck that left a strange impression.
The servant was lying down and thinking about the last question he couldn't answer.
I may not have wanted to see "Hikaru Genji". Maybe I just longed to see the lives of the people in the tale of "Genji". It seemed like a beautiful world with no violence and no robbery. And it seemed to me that it was something that I could only be obtained through being "glimpsed" by the noblemen from a slit of curtains. I'm sure that my mothers thought so too, listening to the tale of "Genji".
I became many things. I've been a man. I've been a woman. I've stolen, I've killed, I've impersonated people in all walks of life. But I could not be a woman of "Genji". I'm sure my mothers looked the other way from the truth. But they dressed me the Nyōbō-Shōzoku and I survived.
There was nothing I could do about it. I can't help it. Although, I brought death to that strange and honest samurai...
The servant trembled on his pillow and spilled tears. He felt as if he wanted to scream out loud and run around the streets, but his body was still not moving well.
One night the servant woke up in the middle of the night.
The sound of a curtain fluttering in the wind caught his ears, and when he turned his eyes, he saw the shadow of a man reflected in the curtain. It was slender and tall, with a faint glow.
When the servant stepped out of the curtain, there was no man in sight, only being left his traces, a faint light, behind. The servant began to walk after the light. He did not feel any weight of his body.
No one knows where the servant had gone.
