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Tahomaru was walking through the wooden walkways of his house, feeling his steps so light that he almost felt as he was walking on clouds. He was walking and walking and walking, the corridors seemingly endless even though by this point he should have logically have reached the other end of the house. It didn’t bother him though, he did not even have a particular destination in mind, he just wanted to keep walking.
His house quickly became a maze of wooden walls, paper sliding doors, tatami mats and polished floors and occasionally an elegant and sedately adorned alcove with a delicate lacquer vase on it with an even more delicate single camellia flower. He looked at the flower and it slowly began to morph into its character tsubaki 椿. It is made up for the character ki 木and haru 春 and they make a harmonious feminine pair. Tahomaru shook his head until the voice of his calligraphy tutor stopped echoing around the room. By now he was quite sure this was a dream and he’d rather not dream about boring lessons.
That’s an interesting character . Tahomaru turned around and saw his older brother standing there, wearing slightly frayed dark blue hakama pants and a short kosode shirt both with an white anchor pattern dyed into the cotton. In his dream logic, Tahomaru first questioned why his older brother would be wearing clothes with dyed patterns instead of embroidered ones before he realized he should be questioning how this person was his older brother.
How was it even possible? He was an only child! But the universe only made sense if the person standing in front of him was his older brother so Tahomaru was forced to accept it.
My name has three characters: 百鬼丸 and I quite like it . His brother said without moving his lips, tracing the characters in the air with his finger. The characters floated in front Tahomaru, as solid and visible as puffs of thick smoke. Tahomaru ran his fingers through the characters of 100 demons.
“Hyakkimaru?” even though he phrased it as a question, speaking the word seemed to breathe life into the person in front of him and suddenly he came into clear view, as if he had been shrouded in shadows before. A pale lanky boy was standing before him, his own height or perhaps even shorter, with his long black hair covering more than half his face and the rest of it tied in a ponytail.
Tahomaru knew simultaneously that he had never seen this person before in his life and that this was the older brother that he had grown up with. Trying to puzzle the logic of what was real and what were fake memories made up by this dream made him so agitated that he almost woke up. In the end, he did not want to wake up, this dream was far too interesting. Hyakkimaru regarded him curiously, though he seemed to be both staring at Tahomaru and looking past him at the same time.
One of the sliding doors suddenly opened by an unseen force and sunlight flooded into the tatami room. Tahomaru recognized the garden of his family’s mansion. He was now holding a bow and wearing his hunting raiments; and he got excited. He was going hunting with his brother! He started to head outside but noticed that Hyakkimaru was not following him. He turned around and walked back to him, wondering what the holdup was. Hyakkimaru’s expression had barely changed, but Tahomaru could tell the difference because his dream self had known him so long. It had been serene and curious before, it was now melancholy.
“Let’s go, Aniue! We’ll bag something good!” Tahomaru grabbed the edge of his brother’s sleeve, which he noticed was more frayed and dull than ever before. He almost feared he might tear it if he pulled too hard. Why was the first born son of a samurai lord wearing such shabby clothes?
Hyakkimaru gave his brother a small sad smile to acknowledge the invitation, but he shook his head.
“Hmph, suit yourself.” Tahomaru felt that he should be more annoyed at his brother’s recalcitrance, but in his heart he knew that this happened every time and it wasn’t Hyakkimaru’s fault. Every time, Hyakkimaru had not been able to join. Or was it that he was not allowed?
He stepped out into the garden and the warm summer breeze blew in his face, lifting his spirits again. He then saw his parents standing next to each other, which filled him with equal parts happiness and unease. This feeling was one he was used to in the waking world. He ran up to them and was about to tell them about his proposed hunting outing when his mother held out a platter for him.
It held three anko-filled daifuku, his favourite dessert! He immediately popped one into his mouth whole, enjoying the chewiness of the mochi and the sweetness of the beans, what a treat! He saw his father take the second one and eat with more grace, though he did not leave a single crumb behind. Tahomaru then looked expectantly at his mother for her to eat the third, but she gave him a tiny smile, shook her head and offered it to him again.
It always made Tahomaru feel weird when his mother sacrificed herself for him like this. He almost wished she was a little more selfish, that she would eat the daifuku whole and smile at him and be done with it. But her expression made it quite clear she would not eat the sweet, and she kept offering it to Tahomaru. The boy was quite torn between exercising the virtue of restraint and giving in to the vice of gluttony. Did dreams always make him pious?
He took the third daifuku and was about to pop it in his mouth with as much joy as the first one when he remembered someone.
“What about Hyakkimaru?” He cried. “There was none of him to begin with!”
Suddenly everything became grey: the sky, the clouds and his parents’ faces. The light summer afternoon had turned chilly in a second. His mother’s gentle smile turned into a tight-lipped frown and his father’s face was an outright scowl. Tahomaru could not tell why they were so upset, but he knew this had happened before.
He did not relent. “It’s not fair to him! He deserves one too!” His parents began saying things, but it only sounded like discordant noise. There were shouts and admonishments, but Tahomaru could not grasp the words as much as he tried. He looked at the daifuku in his hand as if it was the source to all this trouble.
He hesitated, but then became resolute. He turned back on his parents, which increased their reproaching screams. He dared a small look over his shoulder and his parents were looking less like people and more like yokai: their skin grey and unnaturally elongated. What was going on?
He still remembered his mission, and he was determined to make it back to the house, back to the room were Hyakkimaru was sitting. Crossing the garden back to the house had felt like crossing an entire swampy battlefield, and he was protecting the daifuku from rain and mud like it was the most important message in the world. He eventually made it back, out of breath and he kicked off his sandals to enter the threshold.
It was the same room, but different. It seemed murkier and stuffy, despite it being clean. Hyakkimaru was now leaning against one of the walls, his clothes shabbier than ever and his hakama pants gone. His pale legs stuck out from under him as if he had just slumped over. Tahomaru approached him cautiously, like he was a stray cat that he wanted to befriend.
“Aniue? I brought you a daifuku.”
Hyakkimaru looked up and Tahomaru could tell from his salt-stained cheeks that he had been crying. He pretended not to notice and offered his brother the confectionary.
“Eat it, it’s yours.”
Hyakkimaru took one look at the daifuku and gave Tahomaru the exact same tiny smile and head shake that his mother had give him.
Tahomaru could not take it any longer. “You and mother, you’re too alike! Always giving up bits of yourselves to others! Generosity is a virtue, but there’s such a thing as too much! You’ll give up too much and there will be nothing left!” He thrust the daifuku at Hyakkimaru, barely resisting the urge to stuff it directly in his mouth. Hyakkimaru turned his face away.
You have it, you like it more.
“I will not! I want you to eat it, nii-san!”
Our parents chose you to have it.
“I didn’t ask for it! I don’t want this, Hyakkimaru! I don’t want us to be fighting over it, or feeling bad that our honoured father chose me over you! I’m sick of it!” Tahomaru knew that if he kept going, he might start to cry. His dream self must have this argument quite often.
Hyakkimaru was still not moving to take the daifuku, so Tahomaru pulled his hand back. He looked it at, the white rice flour crumbling off the round shape.
His mind had a flash of clarity and he twisted the rice sweet in his hand, until it was split in two. It wasn’t an even split and some of the anko filling had fallen out, but when Tahomaru offered one half to Hyakkimaru, the older boy actually took it. For the first time, Hyakkimaru looked properly into Tahomaru’s eyes, and smiled.
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