My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me: Forty New Fairy Tales

HIROMI ITŌ. I Am Anjuhimeko

I AM ANJUHIMEKO, THREE YEARS OLD.

In stories, it seems to me the person they refer to as father usually wasn’t around or was absence itself, no matter what story I happened to hear, the person called father would be dead in the house or out somewhere traveling or listening to whatever the stepmother was telling him to do, but in my house, there is someone called father, and he is intent on killing me, he is always doing his best to do so, but I don’t know what to do, I’ve had nothing but hardship since I was born.

My father said this baby’s mouth is so monstrously big it seems to stretch all the way to her ears, her eyelids have folds in them, her face is flat, she’s got moles and birthmarks all over, her ears are big, big, big, something is wrong with her, it’s like she’s the freakish baby of some old priest, no way she’s mine, no way, I’ll call her Anjuhimeko, after those Anju — those lowly priests living in little cells for hermits — that’s what I’ll call her, and I’ll bury her in the sand, and if she can survive for three years then she can be my child.

Something’s the matter with me, he says, look, I was born and here I am now, who cares if I’ve got one or two heads, who cares if I’ve got one or two hands, one too few or one too many? none of that really matters anyway, but that’s not what father says, he says let’s try burying her in the sand and waiting for three years, mother was willing to just go along with that, that was a big disappointment, but, well, here’s the problem, I’m just a newborn who can’t even see, and I can’t even utter a word to talk back, so I was wrapped in my mother’s silk underclothes and buried in a sandy spot near a river.

Speaking of which, the sandy place near the river is the place where everybody buries their babies.

To both the right and left of the place I was buried, there were so many buried babies that they jostled against one another, some were breathing, some weren’t, some had struggled partway out of the sand and then dried up, some had managed to escape all the way out of the sand and crawl away.

Just crawl a little bit and there is a big bush, mosquitoes and flies sting any baby who tries to get there, but if they are able to escape from the fierce sun and take shelter from the rain and wind, they can pluck grass or leaves to eat, and if they manage to make it to the river, they can just go right in and live in the water, even though I was still buried in the sand, I watched the others around me, I watched the babies as they died, the ones who were already dead, and the ones who managed to survive and get away.

That’s right, how could anyone possibly have karma as bad as mine?

In only three years I gave birth to three children, but my husband buried one of the babies I’d gone to all the trouble to bear, he buried her in the sand, and now my swollen breasts are too much to bear, the holes in my breast where the milk should come out are plugged up, feverish, and swollen, just a simple touch and my breasts hurt so badly I think they’ll rip open, but between the pain in my breast and the sorrow at having my child buried, I spend every day weeping from dawn to dusk, and in the process of all this weeping, I have ruined my eyes, when that happened my husband said to me he didn’t want me in the house any longer because I’d gone blind, you’re the one who gave birth to the baby that wasn’t fit for anything except burial, no doubt you’ve got something deep and dark in your karmic past that made you give birth to that child and made you go blind, if you stay here, your deep, dark karma will rub off on me, so before that happens, do me the favor of dying or at least getting the hell out of the house, shit, I wish I could have buried you in the sand, too, that’s what he said.

Then, the next day, I check that the two children on my right and my left are still asleep, and I hold my breath as I quietly sneak out, I creep out of the house as quietly as I can, I’m going to dig a hole in the sand and hide myself in it, where was it that baby was buried? every day more and more people come to bury their babies so I don’t have any idea where mine is, I have no idea, but I dig a hole in the sand and bury myself in it anyway, and as I do so, the cries of the children reach my ears, I feel the faint warmth of the bodies of the buried babies, as long as I stay buried here in the sun, I can’t forget what has happened to me, if I’d known this was what fate had in store for me, I wouldn’t have obeyed my husband and buried the baby, that wasn’t a good idea, if things were all that bad, there must have been some other way, there must have been something I could’ve done, but no matter how much I regret it, no matter how much, no matter how much, no matter how much, it still isn’t enough, and I weep hysterically.

When I look around, I see footprints in the sand, handprints in the sand, what are those? in them, I see the outlines of five toes and even the swirls of the prints of the individual toes, they’re the size of an adult’s feet — no, wait, here and there among the big prints are a couple of prints from a child’s foot, but there are only one or two of them, maybe those prints are Anjuhimeko’s, I see the patterns of fingers, several strands of hair, dried bloodstains, wet patches, many, many bodies of all different sorts, which of them belongs to her? I can’t say, does that handprint belong to her? could that footprint be hers? what about that fingerprint? is that strand of hair one of hers? when she was buried, the last thing I saw was her ear, a big, big, big ear, I could see the sand pouring into it so I took the hollow stalk of a reed and stuck it in the hole in her ear, and that was the last I saw of her, the hole was all filled in.

Will my husband change his mind and come get me? what if he doesn’t? I don’t know, meanwhile, it seems as if I can hear the cries of the buried babies emerging here and there from the sandy patch of land, I don’t know, I feel what seems like the weight of a baby or something on my shoulders and on my back, it’s on my hands and arms, I feel as if I’m touching the children’s corpses, will my husband come or not? the stench of the babies reaches me every time the wind blows, I feel like the stench is accusing me every time the wind blows, if I’d known how things would work out, I would’ve gotten rid of the baby a long time ago when I was pregnant, that’s what I keep thinking to myself, but I didn’t and so that’s why these horrible things are happening to me, will my husband come or not? will he or won’t he? maybe he will and maybe he won’t, maybe he won’t, as I think these things to myself, the children accuse me and I feel their reproaches sink deep into my skin.

And then I think that even if one was buried, two of my babies still remain, people keep telling me I should give up on her, I should give up on her, but even if I’ve given up on my buried baby, I still can’t give up on the husband who threw me out, buried here in the sand, all I can think about is whether or not he’ll suddenly change his mind and come take me away, that’s the only thing on my mind, dead child, go ahead and die, die, don’t look back, I want to live.

Then go ahead and get out of the sand, you can’t really do anything, you should go and chase sparrows out of the millet fields for a living, that’s what people tell me so that’s what I do, I climb out of the sand, and here I am.

No matter where I go, the sun beats down on me, the rain has stopped so the sun beats down, I keep walking, and with each passing minute the burning sun roasts me a little more, I keep walking, just a look and you can see how burned I am, as I walk, the steam rises from my burned body yet I keep walking the country roads, this is the fate that has befallen me, I cry out, excuse me please, excuse me, and in response, a master of a nearby house emerges, without saying anything, I clasp my hands, begin weeping, and explain I can chase the sparrows from his millet fields, he asks me why I’ve come, I tell him my baby was buried alive in the sand by my husband, my breasts were swollen, I missed my buried baby, I wept so much I went blind, my husband threw me out when I went blind, I could feel the buried children reproaching me when I tried burying myself in the sand, and that was more than I could bear, but then someone came and told me to chase sparrows so I came here intending to do just that.

He says my story is a heart-wrenching one, and so he’ll hire me, I can work for him chasing sparrows, perhaps then my spirits might lift a little, that’s what he says to me, and so from that day forth, I have chased the sparrows from his millet fields Tsusōmaru, my son, how I miss you! — hoy! hoy! — Anjuhimeko, my daughter, how I miss you! As I chase the sparrows with my cries — hoy! hoy! — the little children surround me and stick their fingers in my face saying, Auntie! here’s your Anjuhimeko! Auntie! I’m your Tsusōmaru, I’m blind so they tease me in unspeakable ways, I’m miserable, and still the children tease me in unspeakable ways.

Stories go fast in the telling, three years later, my father says, it’s the third anniversary of the day I buried Anjuhimeko, why don’t I try digging her up to see if she’s dead or alive?

And when he digs me up, here I am, I’m not dead, I haven’t dried up, I just warmed myself in the sand, a growing, a laughing, living body.

Mother stuck the hollow stalk of a reed in the hole in my ear to mark where I was, so morning and night, I would suck the dew through the tiny, tiny, tiny hole in the stalk, and so I grew, a laughing, living body.

That’s right, they dig me up and here I am, I’m not dead, I haven’t dried up, I just warmed myself in the sand, a growing, laughing, living body, mother stuck a stalk in the hole in my ear to mark me, morning and night I would suck the dew through the tiny, tiny, tiny hole, and here I am, a growing, laughing, living body, a growing, laughing living body, a growing, laughing, living body, that is what I am, that is who I am!

Father says, it is outrageous that this child was buried three years and didn’t die, this won’t do, let’s send her into exile on another island, he gazes across the sea and sees a boat out where the water is deep, he says, I’m going to put you on that boat and send you away, but you’re still my own child so I’ll call out to Amida Buddha once before I send you away, and as he is calling out to Amida Buddha, the boat disappears off the far edge of the sea, he says, since the boat has disappeared, I’ll put you on a boat of mud or planks and get rid of you, with this, he puts me on a nearby raft, and I’m sent into exile adrift on the water, thank goodness the wind and the tides send me in a good direction, I pray three times, oh raft, here I am, send me home, send me home, send me home just as I am! with me on it, just as I am, the raft smashes into my house, the raft smashes into my father, and as it smashes into him, he says, this is a strange raft, with the waves so high it should be all wet, with the wreck it should be damaged, but without getting wet or getting damaged the raft has come back all the way to the house, what a strange raft, she is probably on it somewhere, what a strange raft, he looks everywhere to see if I, Anjuhimeko, am on it somewhere, but I’m not there for him to see, I’ve climbed ashore already, after tearing off the silk undergarments in which my mother wrapped me, I make my way into the grassy fields and woods, I have no destination in mind, I just make my way deep into the forest, there the ivy is all tangled, and it is like dusk even in the middle of day, I have no destination, I have no home, I hear the faint, faint, faint sound of a drum and samisen, I wonder if these sounds are made by human beings, I hurry to the spot, and there I see a man who is pounding on a drum and plucking the strings of a samisen, he is in the middle of a performance of sacred music and dance, he asks why I’m here so I answer, when I explain to him all that has befallen me, the man tells me to come with him and he’ll hire me, that’s how I decide to get a job, he says he’ll give me pleasant thoughts, he’ll raise me well, that’s how I decide to get a job even though I don’t know the first thing about the man.

When I get a job from the man about whom I know nothing, for two or three days he pampers me with sweet talk, calling me his butterfly and his flower, but when ten days go by, he torments me, saying, Anjuhimeko, go pound the millet, go pound the rice, here I am, three years old, I can’t possibly hold a pestle with this little body of mine, so he hangs me upside down over a pile of burning cattails and he begins roasting me, I’m helpless, I just keep roasting, there is nothing I can do but hang there and roast, do men always say such unreasonable things?

Just as I’m wondering what he’s going to say next, he torments me, telling me there are pebbles scattered all over the field in front of me, he tells me to pick them all up before the sun sets, I hurry as much as I can to pick up the pebbles, but mine are the fingers of a three-year-old, the skin on all ten finger pads wears thin, and red blood begins to trickle out, there is no way I can finish so he ends up hanging me upside down and roasting me with the cattails, that’s why even now the sight of a cattail makes me sick.

Just as I’m wondering what he’s going to say next, the man saunters over nonchalantly and torments me, telling me I need to go break apart the stones on the mountain in the distance, he tells me to dig up the dirt and haul it here, he tells me to haul seven cauldrons’ worth in seven days, here I am, three years old, if I try breaking apart the stones, digging the dirt and hauling it here, wouldn’t I be crushed under all its weight? do men always say such unreasonable things? I hate this man who says such unreasonable things, but if after he says these unreasonable things he roasts me over the cattails and I lose my life, then I don’t know what the purpose of having survived all this time will have been, in the end, I don’t go to sleep, instead I break apart the stones, dig up the dirt, and haul seven full cauldrons’ worth in seven days, that’s what I did, I showed them, and here I am.

Just as I’m wondering what he’s going to say next, the man saunters over nonchalantly and torments me, telling me I need to scoop up some water, just as I’m wondering what he’s going to give me to do it with, he hands me a bamboo basket, I look at it and see there are holes in it so big that fish, big and little ones, could slip right through, as I stare at it wondering how on earth to keep water in it, tears well up in my eyes, the tears well up as fast as I wipe them away, I go to the riverbank as I weep, and there the water flows steadily along, I don’t know how deep it is, I look and see myself reflected once, twice upon the water, there I am, if I had a regular life I could live to be more than a hundred years old, but can I make it that far? what would my mother, who wrapped me in silk underclothes and stuck a stalk in the hole in my ear, think if she knew about this? but there’s no way I can scoop up water in a bamboo basket with holes, maybe if I ask the spirit-child who lives in this abundant river that flows along so steadily, he might give me divine aid and help me scoop up the water, so here I am standing on the railing on the bridge and praying, oh, Spirit-Child of the River! I want to scoop up the water from this river but I can’t, I want to but I can’t, I want to but I can’t, when I stand up straight and intone this three times with tears falling, an oil vendor comes from the far side of the bridge.

Is this child weeping because she can’t scoop up water? look, I’ll give you this oil paper, paste it on your basket then scoop up the water, with this the oil vendor takes a piece of oiled paper in his big hands and gives it to me, when I paste it on my basket, I scoop up the water and my task is complete.

Now, just as I’m wondering what he’s going to say next, the man saunters nonchalantly over and torments me again, telling me to use my fingernails to cut down ten reeds and bring them to him, how can my fingernails possibly cut down reeds? my fingernails are the thin, thin nails of a three-year-old child, thinner than even the reeds, they are soft, soft, so very soft, but if I don’t cut them I’ll get roasted again in the cattails, do men always say such unreasonable things? tears well up at the question, but then a man in black comes toward me, he says, is this child weeping because she can’t cut down reeds? with this, he takes out a knife, the knife the man in black has shines in the sun, the blade is big, and it cuts down ten reeds right before my very eyes, how terribly grateful I am!

Then the man saunters nonchalantly over and torments me, telling me, Anjuhimeko, suck on this, so I suck on it hating it the whole time, next he torments me, telling me to hold it in my mouth, I think how much I hate this, but I think how awful it is to be roasted by cattails so I hold it in my mouth hating it the whole time, next he torments me, telling me, Anjuhimeko, put this down there, here I am, a three-year-old child, if I put that thing down there my body will split wide open and that’ll be the end of me, I beg him with tears, no, not that, anything but that, but the man makes scary faces at me, it’ll be the cattails for me, the cattails for me, do men always say such unreasonable things? I don’t want to be broiled over the cattails anymore, even if I die I’ll be none the worse for it, so I stick that thing down there, to my surprise it isn’t all that I thought it would be, but I do feel like my guts are being all stirred up and popping out, I pick up my guts one by one and put them back into my body, my guts and my flesh spring out and slide around so it is really hard to put them back in, however I am happy because my guts are such pretty colors, I’m happy because they are bright blue and bright red, colors that really wake you up.

Next he lights fires under the seven cauldrons, then torments me again, telling me, now Anjuhimeko, I’ve taken the water you scooped up and poured it over the cauldrons of soil you dug and lit fires underneath with the reeds you cut, now walk over here with no clothes and no shoes, the cauldrons are boiling hot and making bubbling noises, I stand on the edge, do men always keep saying such unreasonable things one after another? I cry out loudly, here I’m in tears when a sparrow comes flying by, the man is looking the other way when it chirps to me, now is the time to run, oh Anjuhimeko, three years old, now is the time to run, so with no clothes and no shoes, I escape following the sparrow, finally, I arrive at an unfamiliar house standing in the middle of a field.

Excuse me, excuse me, I call out, and a man comes from deep inside the house, he asks me, where’ve you come from with no clothes and no shoes? just looking at you, I can see you’re still only a child of three years old, I want to give you shelter, but if that man chases you here then he’ll torment me, too, he’ll broil me with cattails and kill me too, please, get out of here quickly, when I go outside, the day is rapidly drawing to a close, a heavy rain is beginning to fall, what shall I do? the man is chasing after me, if he catches me this time I really will die, what shall I do? then I hear a voice saying, little girl, little girl, come back, there’s no doubt the voice is calling me, it is a man’s voice, I return along the path and dash into the unfamiliar house in the middle of the field.

Little girl, little girl, you’ve come back? here, quick, have some rice to eat, then get into this bag and I’ll hang you from the rafters, you’ve come to me asking for help because of some karmic connection, I’ve decided to save you no matter how much he torments me or roasts me with cattails, here, quick, have some rice to eat, then get into the bag, once you’re in the bag hanging from the rafters, you mustn’t scratch your ears or even break wind, and with this he picks me up and the bag, too, he is so powerful, so stalwart, so strong, the man who was chasing me arrives at the house, he reproaches the man in the house, asking if Anjuhimeko hasn’t come here, Anjuhimeko who is three years old, every time I tell her to do something, she plays tricks on me like a good-for-nothing and slips away, she’s a cunning little brat, there’s no place other than here for her to go, look, that bag hanging over there just swung a little, get it down and show me what’s inside.

I’m resigned that once I’m down, I’m going to die, I’m resigned that both I and the man who has given me shelter will die, roasted over cattails, but the man who has given me shelter says to the man who was chasing me, I’ll lower the bag if you repent for what you’ve done, then the man who was chasing me says, I’ll cut it down with a saw, then the man who has given me shelter scoops some water into a basin and shoves it in front of the man who was chasing me, when he saw his reflection in the water, his mouth was ripped open so wide his lips extended to the back of his neck and his teeth jutted out in every direction, the man who’d given me shelter jeered at him, saying, so you’re really a demon at heart? repent, repent, we don’t need any demons here, repent, repent, no demons here, repent, repent, and finally, the man who was chasing me disappears, he is gone, nowhere to be seen.

Here I am, clad in dyed-black clothes, indigo leggings, cotton tabi and belt of straw, ready to set out to see my mother, but nowhere do I see the woman called mother, I travel around these sixty-some provinces to find her, but nowhere do I see the woman whom I call mother, I sleep in both fields and mountains, I sleep upon my folding fan as a pillow, and I use my straw hat as a screen to stop the wind, the rain falls on me, the wind blows at me, dogs bark and bite at me, I’m afraid of the laughter of the crows and the loud rustling of the trees so I cover my ears and run past, but I don’t see my mother anywhere, my mother was the one who gave birth to me so long ago, but she has disappeared, and I can’t find her anywhere, still her child has grown up like this even without a mother, her child has grown even though she didn’t suckle at her mother’s breast, I wish my mother would just die prematurely, die and show me her body just as it is, that way I wouldn’t have to go see her, but since that doesn’t happen, she must be living somewhere, and so I have to go see her.

I’m seven years old, and it is spring, around the month of April, I walk on and on, the days grow dark and draw to a close, I make my way into mountains so deep that one can’t tell forward from backward, I want to stay in an inn but there are no villages, finally, as the day is drawing to a close, I look and see a hut of grassy bamboo in the distance, there is a light, I try to go there in search of lodgings, but I can’t get there, in front of the hut is a big river, I look both upstream and downstream, but there is no bridge, I’ve come this far but I can’t cross, I can’t cross, how sad I am! I try to pray to the spirit-child of this rapidly flowing river, thinking that perhaps his divine grace will help me cross, oh, Spirit-Child of the River! I want to cross this river but can’t, I want to cross but can’t, I want to cross but can’t, I intone this request three times, and then a dead tree falls down all by itself, then a second dead tree falls down all by itself, and then a third dead tree falls down all by itself, forming a bridge over the river, how terribly grateful I am, this is all thanks to the divine child of the river!

Excuse me, excuse me, I call out, going into the bamboo hut, and there is a young woman, her voice makes her sound so young, she invites me in, and with this I’m let into the hut, finally, after something to eat, I heave a big sigh, thinking I’ll try having a conversation about this and that with the young woman, and so I ask her, young lady, have you been blind since birth?

She says, oh child, you ask questions without any reserve, how could anyone possibly have karma as bad as mine? I’ve not been blind since birth, in only three years I gave birth to three children, but my husband buried in the sand one of the babies I’d gone to all the trouble to bear, the milk welled up in my breast, my breasts swelled, and because I missed the child buried in the sand so much, I wept until my eyes went bad, when I went blind, my husband sent me away, I tried burying myself in the sand because I wanted to die, but as I was looking at the traces of the children buried there in the sand, I thought I would try living by chasing away sparrows so I crawled out of the sand, now here I am chasing away sparrows by crying out, Tsusōmaru, my beloved son, how I miss you! — hoy! hoy! — Anjuhimeko, my daughter, how I miss you! — hoy! hoy!

I am Anjuhimeko, mother! I am Anjuhimeko, and I’m alive, I’m here in this world!

Astonished, mother says, how could my Anjuhimeko have come here? the dead shouldn’t come back, some kind of changeling must’ve come to me from some mysterious place this evening, no, my Anjuhimeko has a large mole on her right ankle and a red birthmark on her left shoulder, this year would have been her seventh year, every day I light my lantern and pray for her, there’s no way she would appear here lost, mother says this through tears of astonishment.

Hearing this much, I know we are mother and child, but if she can’t see, then she can’t see I have a mole, she can’t see I have a birthmark, the tears well up in my eyes as I think nothing could be more terrible than this, but then I hear her asking me to rub her right eye, so I do as she asks and rub her right eye, as her eye rubs against the palm of my hand, discharge and tears spill forth, and her eye suddenly pops open, mother! I am Anjuhimeko, and I’m alive, I’m here in this world!

Mother and I weep and laugh all night, our reunion lasts all night.

Ten days later, I ask mother for some time alone because I want to visit my father, Anjuhimeko! you say such foolish things, where is the man called father? what fatherly thing has he ever done for you? if your father was really your father, why would he put you in the sand, Anjuhimeko? why would he hate you so much he’d cast you out to sea, he bids you to complete unreasonable and difficult hardships, he has roasted you with cattails and made you suffer every kind of cruelty imaginable.

That isn’t true, mother! I’m here in this world because I have my father, if I had no father I would never have been buried in the sand but I also never would have been able to emerge again, if I had no father, I never would have been cast to sea but I also never would have been able to return to land again, if I had no father, I never would have undergone such unreasonable and difficult hardships but I also never would have been able to scoop up water in a bamboo basket full of holes or cut down ten reeds, if I had no father, I wouldn’t have been hung from the rafters but I never would have been here doing the things I’m doing now, that is why I have to go see father, I want to go see him, I want to go see him, I want to go see him, I say this like it was the greatest dream in my whole life.

I don’t remember the man called father, there was a man out there who had the face of a demon and who ran off, he was definitely my father, but the only thing I remember about him is his demonic face, there was a man who chased off the father with the face of the demon for me, he was definitely my father, too, but the only thing I remember about him is that he had such strong arms when he hung me from the rafters, that’s all, there was a man who took out a knife and cut down some reeds for me, he was definitely my father, too, but the only thing I remember about him is that his shiny knife was so sharp, that’s all, there was a man who gave me a piece of oil paper when I was on the riverbank looking bewildered, I only remember how big his hands were but he was definitely my father, too, but that’s all I remember.

Mother, what you say is right, my father buried me in sand, he dug me out and set me adrift on the sea, then he tormented me by telling me to pound the millet and pound the rice and dig up dirt and scoop up water, he turned me upside down and roasted me with cattails, there are many scars left on my body, there are many scars left on my body, my skin got burned when he roasted me, I got calluses when I picked up pebbles and the calluses split and broke and blood ran forth, my fingers got broken when I broke the stones apart, how many trembling fingers did I have that were held together by nothing but a single thin layer of skin? surely the man they call my father is nowhere to be found.

Getting roasted, getting beaten, getting killed, getting stuck through the genitals — these things are all the same to me, but the father who is really called father believed I was happy with him sticking himself through my genitals, that is a grave mistake, however, even though I understand that, I have to believe that my father did it because he loved me, because he loved me, because he loved me, I have to believe that even if I was roasted with cattails, even if I underwent such unreasonable and difficult hardships, even if I was chased around with him wearing his demonic face, even if he did stick himself through my genitals, I have to believe that all this happened because father loved me, if even terrible things and painful things befall me, I’ll quickly forget them, I believe it’s all because father loves me.

With a face stained by tears, mother says, this is what they are talking about when they say parting is like a live tree splitting apart, this is the child for whom my womb ached, the child to whom I gave birth, the child who fattened while suckling at my breast, the child whose dirty bottom I would lick clean, the child who flustered me so much as I held her trying to comfort her tears, the child whose sleeping face I would gaze at untiringly all day and all night, my mother said these things as she pulled out her shriveled breasts, this is what they are talking about when they say parting is like a live tree splitting apart, the live tree that split when you were buried in the sand is once again splitting, but blood will pour out instead of sap.

Not necessarily, mother! I’ll cut off the little finger of my right hand and leave it for you, no matter how many years it takes me before I return, all you have to do is lick it and you won’t go hungry, you’ll be fine even without chasing the sparrows away, please live here in comfort as you grow old, please wait until I return, for the first time my mother gives me a smile, if you cut off your little finger, it’ll hurt, but I say, look mother! it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a little blood coming out, just blood coming out, just blood trickling out, and blood that trickles will stop soon.

And so at last, here I am, clad in dyed-black clothes, indigo leggings, cotton tabi, ready to set out to see my father, I meet many different kinds of fathers during my search for my father, I meet fathers with whiskers and fathers without whiskers, the smell of fathers exudes from their pores, I meet fathers with stuffed-up noses and fathers without stuffed-up noses, I meet fathers with bald heads and fathers with full heads of hair, I meet fathers as skinny as bags of bones and fathers so big they jiggle with fat, fathers covered with freckles, fathers covered with body hair, fathers with small hands, fathers with big hands, fathers with bent fingers, fathers with straight fingers, I meet fathers with skin diseases and fathers without skin diseases, one father has eczema that has turned into wet and running sores, one father who is seated under the scattering cherry blossoms has a body colored brilliant hues of red and blue, one father in front of the chrysanthemums who has a body colored gold and silver, one father who is so short I could crush him underfoot, one father who has hair so long it hangs all the way to his hips and he has to untangle it constantly with a comb, one father who has strong underarm odor, I put my head under his arm and take a deep, deep, deep breath, where was it that I met that father?

I am Anjuhimeko, I am Anjuhimeko, the girl who was sexually molested by her father but who still grew up, I’m that wretched girl Anjuhimeko whose father tried to kill her, I am Anjuhimeko, the girl whose was sexually molested by, almost killed by, and now abandoned by her father, I’m that wretched, wretched, wretched girl Anjuhimeko who once died, that’s who I am, I try to run away but my father appears to me in many different forms and tries to kill me, and it’s such a hardship every time he does.

It’s such a hardship every time he does, will I survive this time? no, I won’t survive this time, will I? I’ve thought this so many, many, many times, when I think I won’t survive, I hold my hand into the sky and I stare hard at it, I stare hard, so hard at it, with my hand in the air I can see right through it, each time I think this time I might not make it, I can see right through my hand, I feel like I can see the bones, the blood vessels, the flow of blood, and even the fate that will carry me to my death, it’s such a hardship.

It’s always such a hardship.

I am Anjuhimeko, I am Anjuhimeko who was unable to survive and who died as a result, I have to bring Anjuhimeko back to life again, I’m Anjuhimeko, the one who died thinking I must bring Anjuhimeko back to life and take her to Tennoji, or maybe if I can just take her to Tennoji then I, Anjuhimeko who is dead, will be able to come back to life, I’ll take myself to Tennoji, that’s a good idea, but I don’t have any idea what Tennoji is or where I could possibly find it, that child will help me out, I should go see the child and ask, the child will surely know what Tennoji is and where I could find it, I’ll know if I meet the child, I’ll know all about Tennoji, that’s all I can think of, the child is all that I can think of, is there any way other than asking the child? I don’t know, asking the child is all that I can think of, maybe I’ll never meet the child again, but that’s all that I can think of.

One day I get word from the child.

He says to me, for some reason I’ve also been thinking of you often, I’m certain that’s the name of a place and I’m certain I know the way there, I think it would be wonderful if I were able to take you to Tennoji, but I’m sick, you’re sick, I’m no less sick than you, you’re no less sick than I, it is strange, did we call to each other because we’re both sick? ages ago you forgot me, I forgot you, and we both went to live among other people, but still I heard you, how many years has it been since we have talked? the last time we met, you were still a small, small, small child, yes and I was also a small, small, small child, didn’t we often hide from adults, show each other our naked bodies and urinate together? didn’t we also take fruits from the trees and eat them? didn’t we pickle the fruits and bugs we caught in our own urine? I’m certain I know the way to Tennoji, but I’m sick, I no longer have the energy to walk all the way there.

He says, when I remember you, those memories come flooding back, in those days I was also a young child, almost a baby, never since have I ever thought about things so much as I did then, I used to think, I used to think about everything I could see, about the grass, the trees, the wind, and the clouds, and you were always also there, one day I took a cookie in one hand and I suddenly became aware of the concept of nothingness, I tried to tell mother about this, but she didn’t understand so I told you about it instead, you were a small, small, small child back then, you used to wear red clothes, you used to always be at my side, you used to wear red clothes, I told you about it, about the concept of nothingness I’d grasped, one child little more than an infant told another child little more than an infant about nothingness in the words of a child little more than an infant, I think you understood, but now there is nothing I can do for you, I don’t have the strength to walk.

He says, you weren’t able to pronounce more than a few sounds in those days, the words you said sounded like mush in your mouth, back in those days and back when you were a small, small, small child, did you have a voice as lovely as yours is now? your voice now is so lovely, I hear the child say these things, now his voice sounds like that of an old, old, old man and I hear it across the distance, while I’m looking lost, not knowing what to do next, a yamanba, one of those old trickster witches from the mountains, comes up to me, she says, this is my dying wish, please carry me on your back to that place, that place in the mountains, the yamanba says, this is my dying wish, I want to have intercourse, I say to her, what is this? before today you’ve grabbed so many people and gobbled them up, what, now you have a request? come on! when I confront her like this, the yamanba laughs scornfully at me and says, what? when I’ve eaten you, haven’t you always come back to life without any problem? I wanted to bring you back to life, that’s why I’m always eating, as long as I leave your navel or your clitoris, you’ll come back to life, even if I grind you to dust in my teeth, even if I burn you black, even if I mash you to bits, or even if I pound you to smithereens.

She says this is her dying wish, but this isn’t a trifling thing she asks, my heart feels heavy as I ask, if I carry you on my back into the mountains, you’ll probably start gnawing at me from where you sit on my back, you’ll grind me to dust in your teeth, you’ll burn me black, you’ll mash me to bits, you’ll pound me up and swallow me, and after that you’ll no doubt turn me into shit and squeeze me out, then if I come back to life, you’ll once again pretend to be a praiseworthy person and come trick me again.

The yamanba laughs and says, and then you’ll come back to life, it is precisely because I squeeze you from the hole in my backside that you come back to life.

The yamanba says, but I want to have intercourse, I want to have intercourse, I really want to, when you get to be my age you’ll understand, at that time, who is going to carry you on their back into the mountains?

So with that, I carry her on my back into the mountains.

It was a hardship, she doesn’t just allow herself to be carried quietly along, she undoes my hair, she pulls out my hair, she rubs her feces and urine into my back, she gouges out my moles with her fingernails and eats them, the yamanba does every bad thing she can possibly do while I’m carrying her, when I stop and give her a fierce look like I’m going to let her go and take off, I see the woman on my back is just a tiny, tiny, tiny, regular old woman, she says to me, please, please, please take pity on me, and she begins crying, she says in a heart-wrenching voice, because here are the breasts that once nursed you, the breasts she shows me are very, very, very shriveled.

I walk into the mountains, once there, the yamanba rediscovers a huge, huge, huge phallus she’d located in the past, and she has intercourse with it.

The yamanba says, just watch me! listen to what kind of voices I make! watch what kind of expressions I make! Anjuhimeko, your job is to bear witness! so I say I’ll watch her, the yamanba shouts out in a loud voice, this is how you came out, too! as she speaks, she makes sure I can see her and gives her hips a strong shake, and with this, she gives birth to something I can’t make heads or tails of, she says, Anjuhimeko! this is quite a godsend! I give it to you, here, take it, I listen to her and take it but I can’t make heads or tails of it so I don’t know what to name it, I ask, what should I call it? the yamanba answers, you should call it Hiruko, “the Leech-Child.”

I put the leech-child on my back, and as I do so, I hear a voice telling me the way to Tennoji.

Without thinking I look at the yamanba, but she is so wrapped up in having intercourse that she doesn’t even cast a single glance back at me, I watch her from a little ways away, and I see her give birth to slippery slimy things one after another, I can’t make heads or tails of them but I know they are also leech-children, they are less well formed than the leech-child on my back, but the yamanba doesn’t tell me to take them, she is just completely wrapped up in having intercourse.

Again I hear the voice tell me the way to Tennoji.

I say, oh, Leech-Child! Leech-Child! will you please tell me once more? in response to my question, the leech-child points in the direction of Tennoji, it points with something hardly worth calling a finger but that reminded me of a finger anyway.

The leech-child asks me why I’m going to Tennoji, what do I want to do there? do you even need to ask? I repeat, I am Anjuhimeko, the girl who was sexually molested by her father, I am Anjuhimeko, the girl who was sexually molested over and over by her father, Anjuhimeko, the girl who was sexually molested over and over by her father, is I, I’m that wretched, wretched, wretched girl Anjuhimeko, but each time I say these words, they seem to slide right off the slippery surface of the understanding between the leech-child and me, either that or they are absorbed right into its surface, but in any case, I suddenly realize the leech-child has no language.

A leech-child which has no language shouldn’t be able to tell me the way to Tennoji, but there is no doubt it was the leech-child that told me the way to go, the leech-child was also the one who asked me what I’m going to do there, yes, it is the leech-child I’m carrying on my back, then the leech-child asks me all sorts of questions, I respond with all sorts of answers, but the leech-child has no language so the meanings of all the words I say just slide over the slippery surface of the intention of what I am trying to convey, or perhaps they are absorbed directly into the intention, I don’t know what to say, but the leech-child’s desire to know conveys itself to me, and I respond with language, I don’t know if this is good or not, but all I have is language, the only way I have to respond is language, all I have is language, I respond with language, I respond, and as I respond, I sense the desire of the leech-child I carry on my back slowly being satisfied.

— Translated from the Japanese by Jeffrey Angles