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Section 1
## Illustrations
## A Prologue Written for the Gods
Taiwan edition. Transcribed from the Neglected Dog Novel Group. Image source / transcription: Xue Mingcan ※ In the year 20XX, a great quantity of parchment was discovered in a certain stone cave scattered across the vast wilderness of a certain country. The discoverer was Dr. Sanae R. Ueshima, a woman archaeologist renowned throughout the world. From the results of her long years of research into the history of this land, she was deeply convinced that an advanced civilization, and traces of human life, had existed in the region even in prehistoric times. For more than three years she had led a survey team in excavation. "She is a very strange person." "Does she mean to die for love of archaeology?" "A foolish dreamer." Though she was a well-known scholar, three years of digging had produced nothing, and slander of every kind spread about her. Dr. Ueshima swallowed her anger. Fretting over how the funds ought to be used, she kept on digging. Then, at last, in a stone cave at the northernmost edge of the wilderness, she found several hundred sheets of parchment, together with an astonishing number of relics—wine cups, ornaments, and the like. Judging from the patterns and forms carved upon the objects, it became clear that the civilization which had left them behind was a domain unknown to humankind. "What an astonishing discovery. Sanae, you are truly magnificent!" Dr. J. K. Mill, Dr. Ueshima's excellent partner in both public and private life, spoke with joy. But Dr. Ueshima did not answer him. She only stared, wholly absorbed, at the parchment. "Sanae, what's wrong? Your hands are shaking." "J… what is written on it…" "Eh? What does it say?" "This is the history of the gods and humankind. A detailed chronicle of humans and gods living together upon this land…"
## The Story of Rui and Shimuchaka
※ That day, the rain had not ceased since morning. It was a fine rain, like threads of silk. "Why did you make the heavens rain?" Rui clicked his tongue softly and glared at his elder sister, Shimuchaka. "I told you long ago that today I was going to hunt light-foxes. Did you forget?" Shimuchaka shrugged with great exaggeration and turned her head away. "I had no choice. This is the season of sprouting. If I do not let the heavens rain, the forest and the fields cannot be watered. If the plants do not sprout, the flowers do not bloom, the fruit does not set… everyone will be in trouble. I am the goddess of rain. I cannot become a burden to everyone." Shimuchaka's nose twitched. Whether on purpose or without thinking, a smug smile showed in her eyes. When the cat she kept—Rez—caught a field mouse, the look in its eyes seemed exactly the same as hers. The thought flashed through Rui's mind and nearly made him laugh. If he truly laughed, his sister would certainly be furious. He bit his lip and forced down the laughter rising in him. Rui did not care in the least whether his sister's mood was good or bad, but if she took to sulking, she might make it rain all through tomorrow as well, and that would be bad. Rui lowered his voice. "I know very well that Shimu throws herself into her work. But the rain could have fallen yesterday, or tomorrow. Why must it fall on the day we are going to hunt light-foxes? When you do this, I can only feel that you are deliberately making things hard for me. I hate it!" "I'm sorry. I am under no obligation to fit myself to the play schedules of you stinking brats. Heh heh—let me say this first…"
## The Story of Gudomiano and the Clay Frog
※ Gudomiano's eyes were the color of grapes fully ripe, inherited from the mother-goddess who governed night and silence. Neither blue nor purple, and not black either—the three colors mingled together. Depending on the angle of the light, they sometimes looked blue-violet, sometimes pitch-black, sometimes ultramarine, and now and then they flashed with a hue that could not be named. Everyone praised his eyes as rare gems. But there were also those who feared them deeply. "If you ever meet the god Gudomiano, you must never look directly into His eyes. You will be taken captive, and you will never be able to return to this world." Mothers who had daughters repeated this warning again and again, once their daughters were old enough to understand. To keep their daughters from being bewitched by the beauty of a god. And to keep their hearts from being stolen by Gudomiano, so that they would not become inhabitants of the land of the dead that Gudomiano ruled. They would urge and urge their daughters, with patient earnestness. "If you ever meet the god Gudomiano, you must never look directly into its eyes." One girl asked: "But, Mother, what do I have to do so I won't see the god Gudomiano? Close my own eyes?" "You must pray." Her mother answered. "You must kneel, bow your head, and pray with your whole heart. If you do that, you will not see his eyes—you will not even see His form." "Pray for what?" "Pray for your own future. Pray that tomorrow you may find happiness. Wish that tomorrow your life may be lengthened. The god of death does not take away those who still have hopes for tomorrow." The daughter nodded, but after nodding she was still a little puzzled. "But, Mother…" "Wh…"
## The Flute of Kasfania
※ A flute came drifting from somewhere. It was a tone finer than the wind that passed, and its lingering echo lasted longer. "Who is playing the flute?" The General of the Mounted Host asked the soldier kneeling beside him. "I do not know." The soldier was puzzled. Moonlight lay on the armor he wore and gave off a blue gleam. The point of his spear also reflected the dim moonlight. "This humble one believes it is coming from the enemy." "I think so too. There should be no precious, bookish sort in our camp who would play a flute on a battlefield." "The General speaks truly." The soldier answered with his head lowered. The armor flashed blue. The wind grew stronger, and the flute grew clearer. The General of the Mounted Host folded his arms and pricked up his ears to listen. What a moving tone. The sound wrapped the body gently, and before one knew it, it had seeped into the heart. It unsettled the heart, and it brought calm; now it disturbed the spirit, now it soothed it… a most uncanny tone. He was hearing a flute like this for the first time. The general murmured to himself. Could this be… He held his breath. Could this be the sound of the Flute of Kasfania? "I will have them serve as the princess's maids." The father had seen through his son's nature early on, and through his connections entrusted the son to the realm's foremost general. "These words of yours leave me both grateful and honored. But a great general is like the wall that guards the royal city, and must remain brave and imposing at every moment. If this station were to become hereditary, there might appear idleness, a forgetting of one's mission, a contempt for duty, a laziness that does not train, a caring only for pleasure, and the letting of the great…"
## The Thieves' Supper
※ The tavern was stifling. Merely standing there left one streaming with sweat. The tavern called The Hollow was, true to its name, a cavern dug out of a rocky hill… no—there was a rumor that this was a natural cave, and had not been dug at all. Either way, the place was very narrow, dim, and damp. There was only a single wooden door with rusted hinges, and near the ceiling a round window. The air hardly moved. The room was filled with the smoke of the cigarettes and cigars the customers drew, and a moment's carelessness would leave one choking. There was none of the fashionable furnishing of chairs inside. Only a dozen or so wine casks turned upside down, with coarse cloth spread over them, pressed into service as tables and scattered here and there. Customers drank around these casks. On the shelves there was nothing at all like costly purple-peach wine. There was only Kapita, giving off a sharp smell of herbs, and cheap drinks such as Raguni and moss-wine. Wine and the smell of men's bodies, tobacco smoke and sighs—tonight The Hollow was filled with these once again. In a corner deep inside the shop, three men had gathered. One was named Jiaolian. He claimed he had once been a wandering pit-fighter, and his frame was tall and large. His arms were as thick as round logs, the muscle of his chest stood out, and a slanting scar ran across his right cheek. Even a lion, glared at by him, would shrink back at once. "A wandering pit-fighter's work is a trade that sells your life. Whenever there is a festival, you have to fight for the prize money on a stage set up in the square. A coward could never do this work." Because he had been drinking moss-wine, Jiaolian's face was flushed, and he…
## The Sword of Derepeuto
※ White snow covered the forest. Not only the forest—the footpaths, the riverbanks, the fields, the roads, and the houses of the village were all brushed over in white, and turned into a world sealed in ice. The snow had stopped for now, but a great sheet of thick snow-cloud still hung in the sky, and a gale beat upon the earth. Before morning, perhaps, another snow would fall. The forest was utterly still. The birds that in autumn had called noisily and pecked at the fruit of the trees had vanished somewhere. The squirrels that ran back and forth between tree and ground, between ground and branch, and the field mice that showed and hid in the grass—they too had gone somewhere, no one knew where. "It seems the goddess of winter is in a far worse mood this year than anyone expected." The tallest tree in the forest—Grandfather Beech—murmured. "Truly. The birds and the beasts are all hiding in their nests. I really don't know why. Even the greedy ghost-foxes and the martens have not come out." A young tree, born a hundred years after Grandfather, answered. Another young tree—an elm born only a little more than thirty years ago—shivered with cold. "Because the blizzard fell for three days and three nights running. Look at me—my little branches were nearly snapped off. Ah—it frightened me to death." "Your little branches are too frail. A breeze could break them, couldn't it? Heh heh heh." "Saying that makes me so angry! You were born only a little earlier than I was, and yet you talk so meanly. You haven't already been eaten hollow by worms, have you?" "Hush!" Grandfather Beech stopped the young trees from going on with their pointless quarrel. "There are footsteps. Someone is coming." "Foot…"
## Ending and Beginning
※ Rui let his line down into the pond. He waited like that for a good while, but the line did not stir at all. "This is infuriating!" He clicked his tongue and drew the line up onto the bank. On the hook hung the silence-bug he was using as bait. "Rui, you are far too impatient." Yongfen laughed. Like Rui, he held a rod made of slender bamboo. "I can't catch a single fish!" "The problem is that you're so restless. How would a fish dare eat your bait?" "You haven't caught half a fish yourself. You've no right to criticize me." "I'm not like the Kong. I'm a very patient human being. I'm waiting slowly for the fish to bite." "You've got some nerve saying that! Everyone knows how impatient you are, Yongfen. I hear you couldn't wait for the purple-peach fruit to ripen, picked it and ate it, ended up with a stomachache, and in the end went to the apothecary for help, didn't you?" Yongfen tucked in his chin. Shame reddened him all the way to the roots of his coarse black hair. "N-nonsense! Who did you hear that from?" "Oh? So it isn't true?" "…No. It is true." Rui burst out laughing. Kotar, sitting beside him, laughed so hard his body kept shaking. "Ah! Kotar, it was you, wasn't it? How could you tell Rui something so pointless!" "Because it's the truth. I warned you several times not to eat it. You said it was fine to eat, and you ate three or four. After that you suddenly started yelling that your stomach hurt. It was awful then." "B-back then I was only five! It's already been ten years!" "No, no. The Yongfen of now and the Yong of five…"
## An Epilogue Written for the Gods
"Rui." Gudomiano called Rui's name. Rui lifted his head and looked at the god of death and sighs, seated by the window. "What are you doing? You look so absorbed." "I am recording." "Recording? Recording what?" "Recording our affairs. Writing down, in full, the matters of humans, of gods, and of the Kong." "Why would you want to do that?" "I don't know either. Why? Perhaps because… I want to tell someone how foolish the gods, the humans, and the Kong are, how lovable, how great, how pitiful…" "You want to tell someone." Gudomiano walked to Rui's side, brushed the parchment lightly with his index finger, and then broke into a roguish smile. "That will do." "What did you do?" "I have given your record eternal life. Once someone appears who is fit to read the record, whoever it is will be able to read it with ease. Not bad, is it?" "Wonderful! So you do have a sense of romance." "I was only acting on a whim." Gudomiano laughed softly, and then he was gone. "Gudo—your deeds, too, I will set down in detail." Rui nodded to himself, then turned and faced the parchment once more. Outside, rain was falling. Beneath the window, the flower of Shimuchaka was slowly opening its petals.