The In-Between

【Episode 5: The Bond of Kamuinupuri】

The morning after the typhoon passed, in the autumn of 1954.

The sky of Hidaka was wrapped in an unbelievably translucent, deep blue.

Yet, the scene spreading beneath their feet was utterly devastating.

The slopes of Kamuinupuri—the sacred mountain where deities dwell—having lost their capacity to hold water, had collapsed, and a dark torrent of mud had mercilessly swallowed part of the settlement.

But not a single life was lost.

For Yosuke and Ekashimatsu had run through the storm, completely covered in mud, to warn the adults of the impending danger.

At the mud-spattered ruins of the cabin, Yosuke's father, Genzo, and the people of the Kotan, including Ekashimatsu’s father, stood side-by-side in silence.

Genzo picked up his battered iron saw from the mud and stared at it quietly.

"It wasn't that the mountain was angry..."

Genzo muttered softly.

"We just underestimated the core of this mountain for too long."

Beside him, the Ainu hunter nodded in quiet agreement.

The thorn-like hostility that had once existed between the two fathers had quietly vanished, dissolved by the shared survival of that catastrophic night.

However, because the landslide had heavily damaged a portion of the Kotan, Ekashimatsu’s family was forced to relocate to another land.

It was a sudden, and far too abrupt, parting.

On the morning of their departure, Yosuke and Ekashimatsu stood side-by-side by the banks of the foothill stream.

"Yosuke, take this with you."

Ekashimatsu pulled a hand-carved wood knife—a Makiri—from his sheath and offered it.

Ekashimatsu had shaved the wood himself, deeply carving the traditional Ainu spiral patterns known as Moreunoka.

"This is a protective knife passed down in our Kotan. You are a full-fledged hunter now."

Deeply moved, Yosuke pulled the brass-sheathed folding knife—the Higonokami—from his own pocket.

"Then, take this. It's my partner. Please keep it."

In silence, the two boys exchanged their prized tools.

The cold, metallic touch of the folding knife met the rough, hand-carved warmth of the wood.

"Never forget, Yosuke. We ran through the storm of Kamuinupuri together."

"Yeah. I will never forget. You'll be my best partner for life."

The two boys clasped their hands in a firm, tight handshake.

In their palms were mud, tears, and a distinct, indelible friction of their bond.

――Summer, 2026. In the living room.

"...And that was our final parting, Ekashimatsu and I."

Eighty-three-year-old Yosuke quietly brought his story to a close.

The gentle breeze of the air conditioner swayed the curtains of the living room.

Sitting on the sofa, Takumi had, without realizing it, turned off his smartphone screen.

The blue light of the screen had vanished, leaving only his own anxious reflection on the dark glass.

"Grandpa... Did you ever see Ekashimatsu again after that?"

"No. It was an era when we didn't even know where to mail a letter. But strangely, I never felt lonely."

Yosuke smiled softly and stood up slowly from his floor chair.

"We settlers were desperate to protect our houses and fields by sheer force, while Ekashimatsu and his people read the mountain cries through their wild instincts and withdrew to the high ground. Both sides were desperately trying to survive, and it wasn't about whose wisdom was correct. What remained after we survived was nothing but a deep respect for each other’s wisdom to live."

Yosuke stood up slowly from his floor chair, and retrieved a small bundle from the back of an old drawer.

Unwrapping the cloth, he revealed a blackened, hand-carved wooden knife.

Though its surface was worn by the passage of decades, the beautiful spiral patterns remained clearly visible.

"This is Ekashimatsu's Makiri. Takumi, hold it."

Takumi received the small knife with both hands from Yosuke.

At that moment, a distinct, rough friction resistance ran through his fingertips.

It was the absolute polar opposite of the smooth, frictionless, cold glass of his smartphone screen.

The deeply carved grooves, the weight of the aged wood, and the very breath of an ancestor who had survived ninety years of history flowed directly through his skin and into his heart.

An overwhelming "touch of reality" that could never be obtained no matter how many times he scrolled through his phone screen.

(Grandpa and Ekashimatsu survived that collapsing mountain with nothing but this single knife and their bare hands...)

Compared to them, how was he living?

Had he been so obsessed with "efficiency" and "optimal solutions," so afraid of getting hurt, that he had locked himself away in a flat, frictionless world?

Takumi’s soft fingers gripped the warm wood of the Makiri tightly.

Sweat beaded on his palms, and a solid, unmistakable sensation of being alive spread through his chest.

"Thank you, Grandpa. I feel like I've finally woke up."

Takumi slipped his smartphone deep into his pocket and looked straight into his grandfather’s eyes.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to my job interview. I'll go on my own two feet. I won't use some polished, empty words—I'll speak with my own raw, muddy voice."

"Haha, that's the spirit. Reality is always full of mud and friction. But remember, my blood flows through your veins. You will overcome it."

Yosuke patted Takumi's shoulder with his deeply wrinkled, yet powerful hand.

Outside the living room window, far beyond the northern sky, the majestic ridge of Kamuinupuri shone under the summer sun, as if it still stood towering there, unchanged from the day the two boys looked up at it together.

It was a sacred promise of the soul, passed down across generations.

The End of 'The Bond of Kamuinupuri'

📖Previous Chapter:https://note.com/ttukumoo/n/n865b046b5605
🌐OriginalJapanesehere:https://note.com/juicy_laelia8513/n/n7575099e7ffa

"Thank you so much for reading to the very end!"💗