The high-pitched voices of the children who had entered ahead of us echoed off the walls, filling the
"Watch your step. There's a ledge."
"Yeah."
After a few careful steps with my eyes on the floor, a heavy, creaking groan sounded from behind us as the door swung shut.
Startled by the sudden darkness at my feet, I turned around to see a Gray Priest closing the door.
"Oh, right. We were the last ones…"
A Blue Priest walked toward the sealed door with an unhurried gait. He shook a wind-chime-like bell adorned with a strangely colored stone, and it jingled with a bright, crystalline ring.
The next instant, the clamor of children's voices—amplified by the Temple's acoustics—vanished, leaving nothing but the echo fading into silence.
"What was that?"
Lutz's voice hadn't come out. To be precise, nothing louder than a whisper had come out. Judging from his expression and gestures, he would normally have spoken much louder. He touched his throat with a surprised look, as if bewildered by his own silence.
"A Magical Tool, maybe? It happened right when the Blue Priest rang the bell."
I tried to raise my voice too, but like Lutz, I could manage no more than a murmur. However, since I had seen the priest shake the bell, understanding the reason helped me stay calm.
My words seemed to ease the tension out of Lutz's body. Knowing it wasn't just him—that there was a reason—apparently put him at ease.
Standing at the very end of the long, orderly line, I let out an awed sigh and looked upward.
Inside, the Temple soared with a vaulted ceiling of impressive height and depth. On both sides, thick columns carved with intricate designs stood in neat rows. Windows were set at equal intervals about four stories up, and shafts of light poured straight through.
Aside from touches of gold in the decorations here and there on the walls and columns, everything was white, giving the interior a bright appearance even in dim light. The only part with vivid color was the far end.
Unlike the Christian churches I had seen in photo books and museums, there were no murals or stained glass. Being built of pure white stone, the atmosphere was entirely different from Japanese shrines or temples, and equally unlike the riot of color found in Southeast Asian architecture.
The farthest wall was covered floor to ceiling with multicolored mosaic in elaborate patterns, and the parts illuminated by light streaming in from the side gave a vaguely mosque-like impression. But about forty steps led up from the bottom to the height of the windows, with stone statues placed at intervals along the way, so the resemblance was only superficial.
Could those stairs be meant to evoke a path reaching up to heaven or the gods? The statues lined up on the various steps did give the whole thing a hina doll arrangement, though.
At the very top stood two statues, one male and one female. Judging from how they were placed together, they appeared to be a divine couple, and being at the summit, they were likely the supreme gods.
Though carved from pure white stone, the male god wore a black mantle draped from his shoulders, scattered with gold that caught the light like stars. The female god wore a golden crown with slender, pointed rods radiating outward, as if to represent rays of light.
The
A few steps below them was a statue of a slightly plump woman with a gentle aura, cradling a gleaming golden Holy Cup studded with jewels in her arm.
Below that stood a procession of statues: a woman with a staff, a man with a spear, a woman with a shield, and a man with a sword. Each statue was white, yet each held a single object with color—an odd sight. Since they had gone to the trouble of placing real items, there had to be some meaning.
A Holy Cup, a Holy Sword—that sort of thing?
On the steps below that, offerings of flowers, fruit, and cloth were displayed. The more I looked, the more it resembled a hina doll set.
"Mine, stop spacing out and keep moving."
"Huh? Oh, sorry, sorry."
Lutz tugged my hand firmly, and I quickened my pace to follow the line.
A wide path had been left clear in the middle for the procession, with thick red carpeting laid along both sides, roughly a meter wide.
At the front, several tables were arranged, and Blue Priests stood in a row behind them, apparently processing some kind of paperwork. Children who finished their procedures were guided by Gray Priests to separate into lines heading left and right.
I could see them walking from the wall toward the center, removing their shoes, and sitting down on the carpet.
The line inched forward, and whatever they were doing up ahead gradually came into Lutz's view. I heard him let out a small "Ugh."
"What is it, Lutz? Can you see what they're doing up front?"
"…Ah…"
He glanced around awkwardly, then sighed in resignation and looked back at me.
"The Blood Seal you hate, Mine."
"Huh? …What?"
"Must be a Magical Tool. Everyone's pressing their finger on it."
I wanted to pretend I hadn't heard. I wanted to do an about-face and run. But Lutz's grip on my hand was iron-tight, and he refused to let go.
"Just accept it. Looks like they're registering us for something. Isn't this what leads to Citizenship?"
"Ugh… Yeah, you're probably right."
"…Why do Magical Tools love blood so much, anyway?"
"Who knows."
Every single time I had anything to do with a Magical Tool, it meant cutting my finger and drawing blood. Having been through it a few times now, I could say that the pain never got any easier to bear.
Peeking ahead with trepidation, I watched a curt Blue Priest prick a child's fingertip with a needle-like object, then press it firmly onto a flat, medal-like white stone.
The child's mouth opened in the shape of a scream, but no scream came. Seeing the child clutch a painful fingertip while being led away to a seat made me shudder.
"Next. Over here."
The number of children ahead had dwindled, so a call rang out from an open table. Lutz pushed me forward, and I headed toward where I'd been called.
The Blue Priest narrowed his eyes slightly, looked me up and down, then extended a hand.
"Palm up, please. It'll sting a moment, but it shouldn't be too painful."
Every time someone told me it wouldn't hurt, it invariably did. The instant the needle pricked me, a sharp pain lanced through, as though something searing had been pressed against my skin, and a bead of red blood welled up. The pain and the sight of my own blood made the color drain from my face.
"Get some blood on this."
Unlike the rough priest I had just watched, this one handed me a small, medal-like object rather than pressing my finger down by force. A light dab was apparently all it took, and I felt a wave of relief that it hadn't been as painful as I'd feared.
At least he wasn't rough about it, but my fingertip was still tingling.
Maybe the Magical Tool that suppressed our voices wasn't just meant to prevent the echo of chitchat—it could also have been to keep our screams from reverberating through the Temple.
"You two are the last ones. Come this way."
A Gray Priest who still looked barely older than a child called to us, and Lutz and I headed for the carpet.
We were told to remove our shoes and step up, so we did and sat down on the carpet. While many of the other kids sat cross-legged or sprawled out, I was the only one sitting in a tight huddle with my knees drawn up. In a space as wide as a gymnasium, with children our age gathered all around, it just felt like the most proper way to sit.
"Mine, why are you all curled up like that?"
"It's not a curl—it's a triangle. They call it triangle-sitting too."
"Huh? Triangle? Where?"
"Here."
While we chatted, the Blue Priests finished registering everyone and filed away from their tables one by one. They carried off the boxes holding the medals they'd just used, then the Gray Priests bustled in to prepare for the next stage. The tables were removed and, in their place, a grander altar was set up before the base of the stairs.
The Blue Priests who had temporarily withdrawn now lined up on either side of the altar, while the Gray Priests took up positions at roughly equal intervals along the wall near where we were sitting. The arrangement reminded me of teachers stationed around a school assembly to keep students from making noise, and I unconsciously straightened my back from my huddled posture.
"The High Priest enters."
With those words, a Blue Priest waved a staff in his hand. The sound of many bells ringing together echoed through the hall, and in walked an old man in flowing white robes with a golden sash draped diagonally across his chest, carrying something in his hands.
The High Priest approached the altar at a measured pace and gently, carefully set down what he was carrying.
Wait—could that be a book?!
I rubbed my eyes several times, then squinted and stared as hard as I could. When the High Priest leisurely began to turn pages, I was certain. It was a book, no question. Something like a scripture or a Holy Book.
"Lutz, a book! There's a book!"
I slapped Lutz's shoulder excitedly and pointed at the altar. Lutz leaned forward slightly to see.
"Where? Which one is a book?"
"Right there—the one the High Priest is holding. That!"
It appeared to be bound in leather, with the vulnerable corners reinforced and decorated with gold filigree. Tiny gems seemed to be embedded in it as well.
"That's a book? Looks expensive as anything. Nothing like the ones you were making."
"Don't lump together an artistically priceless tome with my practical books. It's like comparing that sword those statues are holding to your knife."
"Oh, yeah, fair point. Still, can you believe there's a book in a place like this?"
"…It's not surprising, really. When you think about it properly, it's obvious."
Because I was a typical Japanese person with no interest in religion, I had never gone out of my way to approach the Temple. But religious institutions generally had scriptures, sutras, holy books—compiled teachings of every kind. They had books.
Even without a functioning body, even without a single coin to my name, I didn't have to have struggled and scraped to make books. Books already existed.
If the commercial guild stood at the cutting edge of information, then the Temple stood at the cutting edge of theology, mathematics, music, art—the learning and disciplines for drawing closer to the gods.
Christianity had developed scholarship in much the same way, and in
"Wahhhh! I should have come to the Temple sooner! Why didn't I think of it? How stupid I am! If I had, I could have been reading books without all that suffering!"
At least the suppression on our voices meant I could scream my heart out without anyone hearing. As I howled internally, Lutz shrugged beside me in exasperation.
"Hey, Mine, you seem to have completely forgotten, but kids aren't allowed inside the Temple until their Baptism Ceremony. Even if you'd thought of it sooner and come all the way here, you'd just have been turned away at the Gate."
Oh. Right.
Only children who had completed their Baptism Ceremony could enter the Temple.
"But still, meeting books for the first time at the very first Temple I ever visited—that has to be fate."
"Everyone comes to the Temple when they turn seven. It's not fate or anything."
"Geez, Lutz. Don't shoot down every little thing."
"I know you're excited about the books, so calm down. It'd be a problem if you collapsed right here."
Lutz was trying to rein in my excitement.
"Huh? But how can I not get excited when there are books right here, this close?"
"Whether you can or can't, calm down. Those aren't the kind of books they'd let you read anyway."
"…Yeah, you're right."
Books or not, these were not books I would ever be allowed to touch. A leather-bound, jewel-encrusted book would never be handed to me to read.
Understanding the situation drained my excitement in a rush, and I slumped back into my huddled seat, deflated.
"Today you turn seven, and are hereby formally recognized as residents of this city. Congratulations."
Though he was an old man, the High Priest's voice was resonant and carried well through the Temple. Starting with his words of congratulation, he began to read aloud from what appeared to be the Holy Book in a sonorous, commanding voice. Utterly captivated by the book, I leaned forward and strained to listen.
The story matched what Benno had once described—creation myths and the changing of the seasons. He spoke in simple language so children could follow.
"The God of Darkness lived alone for eons upon eons, in a solitude so vast it defied all reckoning."
That was how it began. He met the Sun Goddess, various things happened, they married, were blessed with children, and the Water Goddess, Fire God, Wind Goddess, and
The "various things" part had been tastefully wrapped up for a younger audience, but it smelled strongly of an adult drama.
Then again, that was how myths went. Every mythology I knew was pure chaos. Dig too deep and you'd lose.
Simply hearing a new story was entertaining enough on its own, but because I compared it against the myths I already knew, it was even more enjoyable.
Lutz, who seemed to have little interest and no idea what was fun about it, swayed his body listlessly and looked at me with envy.
"You seem to be having fun, Mine."
"Mm, definitely."
"What's so fun about it?"
"Everything. From start to finish."
When I answered with a beaming smile, Lutz let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head.
"…I see. Good for you."
"Mm!"
After the creation story came the myths about the turning of the seasons.
I had heard from Benno that "spring is the season of the Water Goddess, when snow melts and buds sprout; summer is the season of the Fire God, when the sun is nearest and leaves flourish; autumn is the season of the Wind Goddess, when the air turns crisp and fruits ripen; winter is the season of the Earth Goddess, when life slumbers." But the actual myths sounded quite different.
"The Earth Goddess is the youngest daughter of the Sun Goddess and the God of Darkness. One day, the Life God caught sight of the Earth Goddess and fell in love at first sight. He went to the God of Darkness, her father, and asked for her hand in marriage. Delighted by the prospect of many grandchildren, the God of Darkness granted their union."
That was the opening of the seasonal myths, but Lutz was dozing off through it, so I'll deliver the digest version as I interpreted it.
To put it simply: the Life God turned out to be a yandere who imprisoned and assaulted the Earth Goddess in ice and snow until she conceived, then grew jealous of their children who hadn't even been born yet, stealing their power so they could never come into the world. That was winter.
Worried about the Earth Goddess, who never appeared after the marriage, the Sun Goddess melted the ice, and the Water Goddess washed away the frozen prison along with the weakened yandere god. Together with her fellow goddesses, she infused power into the seeds called "children," and they sprouted. That was spring.
The Fire God bestowed power upon his friends, and the life that had sprouted grew in the blink of an eye. That was summer, leading swiftly to the season of harvest.
By then, his strength restored, the yandere god came seeking the Earth Goddess once more. The Wind Goddess fought to keep the stalker away from her sister, and while she struggled, the sibling gods combined their power to bring the harvest to a close. That was autumn.
And when the elder gods' strength waned, the yandere's turn came again. Imprisonment, assault. The sibling gods wished they could just kill the yandere, but if life could never be born again in the future, that would be a problem—so they couldn't. Frustrated and caught in a dilemma, they waited for their power to rebuild. That was winter.
This eternal loop of give-and-take supposedly cycled through the seasons. Every mythology was packed with things to nitpick.
For the record, the Fire God—guardian deity of summer-born children like us—was hot-blooded and passionate, and apparently granted particular blessings in guidance and nurturing.
The High Priest closed the book and concluded his story.
"Now, I shall teach you the proper way to worship. By offering prayers and gratitude to the gods, you shall receive their blessings."
With a solemn expression, he stepped forward from the altar in a measured stride. Meanwhile, Gray Priests unfurled rolled-up carpets and laid them before the Blue Priests.
The High Priest took his position at the center of roughly ten Blue Priests.
"Now, watch carefully as I demonstrate. …Pray to the gods!"
With that, he swept both arms wide, raised his left knee, and cast his gaze upward toward heaven.
"Pff—!"
I barely managed to stifle my laughter by clamping both hands over my mouth. In a sacred ceremony like this, bursting out laughing was absolutely forbidden. I knew that.
But the overwhelming urge to laugh—out loud, as loud as I could—surged up inside me, and my stomach lurched and contracted.
Because it was the Gl*co pose! He was striking the Gl*co running-man pose with a perfectly straight face!? Why the Gl*co pose!? Raising the knee is completely unnecessary! He was an old man—standing on one leg was dangerous!
What made it even funnier was that he held the pose without the slightest wobble, perfectly balanced. I had probably hit some bizarre pressure point of comedy. From this point on, I was confident I could laugh at anything the High Priest did.
When he lowered his arms and legs with slow, tai-chi-like movements, I had just managed to contain my laughter—so why did the High Priest, as if he bore some personal grudge against my abdominal muscles, continue?
"Give thanks to the gods!"
Watching him transition from the Gl*co pose into a full prostration with one fluid, elegant motion, I could no longer hold back. A strange burst of air escaped my lips.
"Pffhf!"
"Mine, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"
"N-no, I'm fine… Still fine. I can hold on. This is a trial the gods have given me."
I covered my mouth and pressed my face down against my knees, answering Lutz's worried look.
Trying to explain that the worship poses were so absurdly funny I had hit a comedic pressure point would never get through. This wave of laughter was something only those who knew the Gl*co pose could understand.
This is a religion. This is a religion. They're being sincere. Laughing would be rude.
I thought back to the classmate I'd once seen praying to Allah when I opened the classroom door, and did my best to quell my churning abs. Religious prayers must look strange from the outside. It was just a coincidence that the poses resembled Gl*co. Must not laugh.
After several controlled breaths, I managed to compose my face into something normal. I raised my head just as the High Priest signaled for everyone to stand.
"Now, rise. Follow along with me."
Follow along? Follow along?! No way!
Everyone around me stood, so I rose too, but my mouth kept twitching, my stomach kept clenching, and all the signs of an imminent breakdown were visible.
Don't laugh. Don't laugh—the more I told myself that, the more laughter surged up.
"Pray to the gods!"
The High Priest struck the Gl*co pose.
It's fine.
Second time. The shock was less.
I successfully rode out the wave of laughter and was confident in my abs' victory.
The next instant, all the Blue Priests raised their arms and legs in perfect unison.
"Pray to the gods!"
Ten Blue Priests lined up before me, executing a magnificent, synchronized Gl*co pose in perfect seriousness.
The flawless angles of their hands, the identical height of their raised legs, their perfectly blank expressions—my abdominal muscles suffered a catastrophic collapse. I could no longer stay standing and crumpled to the floor.
"Hh—! …Ff… nnh…"
My stomach hurt! Somebody help!
Even with both hands clamped over my mouth, tears welled up in my eyes and laughter leaked through. If only I could just roll on the floor and pound the carpet and laugh my heart out—I couldn't, and the frustration only made it worse.
"Mine, I knew you weren't actually fine!"
Worried by my writhing, Lutz came hopping over on one foot, still holding the Gl*co pose himself. His approach felt like a finishing blow, and I pounded the floor in desperation.
"S-sorry… can't… breathe…"
"Mine! Why did you stay quiet until it got this bad!?"
"Wh—I'm… I'm okay…"
Huddled on the floor, waving my hands weakly at Lutz, I felt a Gray Priest approach us.
"What happened here?"
"Um, Mine seems to have taken a sudden turn for the worse and collapsed. She's always been frail and sickly, and with the excitement of the Baptism Ceremony…"
I had indeed been excited, but I hadn't actually fallen ill. I had simply laughed too hard. It was not an occasion to summon a priest.
"I-I'm fine! It'll pass right away! See?"
I tried to scramble up, but either my body couldn't keep up with the sudden movement or I was oxygen-deprived from laughing so hard—my arms gave out, and I collapsed limply in front of Lutz and the priest.
"That's not 'fine' at all! Where exactly is this fine!?"
"I just… made a little mistake… I'm really okay, honestly…"
Even if I said so while lying in a heap, there could be no less convincing "I'm fine" in the world. I knew it myself, so it was only natural that Lutz's assessment carried more weight.
"Take her to the recovery room. She should rest until the Baptism Ceremony is over."
The Gray Priest seemed to find my words equally unconvincing, and picking me up while I lay boneless on the floor, he carried me away.
Abdominal collapse resulted in my withdrawal from the Baptism Ceremony.
This was sure to become a bitter memory I could never tell anyone about.
Mine was carried to the recovery room, but the Baptism Ceremony continued.
Next time: the paradise you can't enter.