Free to Read: "Records of Modern Matters"
It’s a fact of life as a writer that not all short stories find a home. Some passion projects never make a dime or see the light of day on a major website. That’s the game we play, and I’m grateful I have a blog to share my work with an audience.
My latest Free to Read is “Records of Modern Matters,” an addendum to the Japanese Kojiki. It may be a tad sacrilegious to meddle with the Shinto faith’s foundational text, but I felt compelled to tell the story to honor someone and the place he loved so much. That said, I hope you enjoy it.
Records of Modern Matters
By Thomas Broderick
Translator’s Introduction
The Kojiki (Records of Ancient Matters) is an approximately 1,300-year-old Japanese text that laid the literary foundation for the Shinto faith. Its myths and legends tell stories of the creation of Heaven and Earth, the birth of the gods, and the gods’ connections to the Japanese imperial throne.
The text presented here is a purported sequel, the Shinjiki (Records of Modern Matters). It was discovered in September 1986 by an elementary school girl. She claimed to have found it at a cave entrance on Mount Takamagahara, near where Japan Airlines Flight 123 crashed just over one year prior.
The Shinjiki’s use of ancient grammatical structures and ornate calligraphy suggest something far beyond what a child could produce. Also, her family members had no formal education in this writing style. As of 2022, no one has come forward to claim authorship. The original text, written on traditional Japanese washi paper and bound with hemp twine, remains on display at the Ueno Village municipal office.
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The Destruction of the Floating Bridge of Heaven
The gods had found peace among the clouds in the Plain of High Heaven. Below them, the Central Land of Reed Plains and the Land of the Roots were connected to the heavenly realm by the Floating Bridge of Heaven. Since time immemorial, the gods had used it to visit the human world and converse with the gods of nature who lived there.
The Floating Bridge had existed for so long that its destruction came as a total shock. It happened in summer, just after the Sun Goddess Amaterasu had extinguished the day. Without warning, the Plain of High Heaven erupted with light and sound brighter and louder than creation.
Amaterasu’s brother, the storm god Susanoo, threw up his hands. “I did nothing,” he called out to some of the assembled gods who eyed him with suspicion.
Amaterasu quickly came to her brother’s defense. “It was not him,” she proclaimed. “No one here would disrupt the Plain of High Heaven with such trickery.”
It was at that moment that the gods discovered that their sole link to the lands of the living and dead had been reduced to rubble. It was as if some great force, perhaps a meteor or comet, had smashed it beyond recognition. The gods, although all powerful, could do little more than stare at the destruction with their mouths agape.
Amaterasu was the first to approach the wreckage. She touched one of the hundreds of misplaced stones. From it came an impression left behind, one of pain and fear. The gods felt these things, of course, but not like this. No, these were human emotions. Pausing at one, her face changed.
Amaterasu raised the stone above her head as the other gods looked on. She closed her eyes, and soon, the stone was glowing as hot as molten iron and growing to an immense size.
The Sun Goddess dropped the stone, whereupon it broke in two. As the light faded, the gods peered inside to find a naked figure, Waraku.
The Gods’ Conversation
The destruction of the Floating Bridge of Heaven did not excuse Amaterasu from her duties the following day. Before ascending to light the world, she instructed the other gods to care for the still unconscious Waraku. Since his birth from the stone hours before, the young man had not yet awoken. However, even asleep, he gladly sipped the water the gods offered him.
“He looks strange,” Susanoo said in a low voice as he inspected the sleeping figure. “Nothing like those I’ve seen below.” He poked Waraku’s foot with a dull stick. The man groaned slightly but stayed asleep.
“But he is a man,” Fujin, the god of the wind, replied before narrowing his eyes. “Or, at least mostly a man.”
Susanoo looked over to the ruins that had once been the Floating Bridge of Heaven. Like his sister, he had touched the stones shortly after Waraku’s birth. However, whatever impressions or presence left behind had already faded away.
“There must be a way to send word to the Central Land of Reed Plains,” Fujin commented, frowning. “We must let Ebisu, Suijin, and the others know we have not forsaken them.”
Susanoo nodded. For all the tricks he had played on his sister and the other gods, even he would have never destroyed the Floating Bridge. He shuttered to think what might happen if they could not repair it.
Susanoo did not muddle over this thought for long, for at that moment, Waraku’s eyes opened. Staring up at the two old gods, he spoke.
“Where am I?”
Waraku and the Sun Goddess
The gods clothed Waraku in fine drapery to prepare him for Amaterasu’s return that evening. When the time came, they formed a semicircle around Amaterasu, their attention fixed on the newcomer. His eyes darting back and forth, he felt grateful that the thick robes hid his small and weak body.
“Waraku,” Amaterasu called out, her voice silencing the gods’ chatter. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine, Sun Goddess. But, but how do you know my name?”
“I felt it in the stone from where you were born. That and fear.”
“Fear.” He searched his feelings. Like a small candle flame within an otherwise empty void, that sense of fear remained.
“Yes.” Amaterasu continued. “I felt it in many stones that were once the Floating Bridge of Heaven. I believe that our two worlds, the Plain of High Heaven and the Central Land of Reed Plains, collided momentarily.”
“Am I dead?”
Amaterasu sat unmoving for a moment before replying. “No human spirit can exist in the Plain of High Heaven. I gave birth to you using the fading impression of a human named Waraku.”
He cast his eyes downward, his lips trembling as he spoke. “But why, Sun Goddess, why?”
“Because while I felt fear in that stone, I also felt love. Love for the Plain of High Heaven, love for the Central Land of Reed Plains, love for the Land of the Roots.” She paused to smile. “It will take the dedication that blooms from such love to rebuild the Floating Bridge of Heaven.”
Amaterasu continued before Waraku had the chance to speak. “As the Floating Bridge connects our worlds, I made you a bridge, as well. One part human. One part god. With this balance, you can make what has broken whole again.”
Hushed whispers rushed through the assembled gods. Waraku was glad he could not understand them. Amaterasu tolerated the sounds for only a moment before clearing her throat. “So, what say you, demigod? Will you help us?”
Inspecting the Ruins
The next day, Susanoo and Fujin accompanied Waraku to inspect the ruins of the Floating Bridge of Heaven. The stones lay scattered over the clouds. The demigod peered below, where he saw what appeared to be other remains on a mountain top.
“Where is that?” He asked.
“Mount Takamagahara,” Susanoo replied. “It is where the bridge ended in the Central Land of Reed Plains.”
“Put your arm over the edge,” Fujin instructed. Waraku hesitated briefly before doing so. Nothing seemed to happen as he waved his hand in the air beyond the cloud’s boundary.
“Now watch as I do the same.” Fujin extended his thick arm alongside Waraku’s. As if by magic, the divine flesh melted into nothing. Just as miraculously, it reappeared as Fujin pulled back.
“We cannot travel beyond without the bridge,” Fujin explained, his face a frown. “There are parts of this task when we cannot assist you. But today is not that day.”
“Yes,” Susanoo added, straightening his back. “Let us three repair the foundation together.”
Amaterasu returned that evening to find the end of the Floating Bridge repaired. However, much work remained. The task that would define Waraku’s existence was just beginning.
The Demigod’s Task
“It’s not much.” Susanoo sighed as he showed Waraku the length of thick hemp rope. At the end, the rope split in two to connect to both sides of a crude wooden seat. “We’ll only be able to get you down a few feet today, but the others are hard at work weaving more. That, and a second rope to lower each stone down to you.”
Waraku nodded before sitting in the crude swing. Of the task, he was not worried. When repairing the foundation the other day, the stones seemed to snap back into place without the need for mortar.
Susanoo wrapped the rope’s end around his left arm before lowering Waraku over the edge. The seat swung wildly back and forth in the wind, causing the demigod to hold on tightly. Susanoo paused as the rope settled.
Fujin appeared at the edge and lowered a basket with the first stone. It, too, waved in the wind for a moment before Waraku caught it in his hands. The stone was surprisingly light and did not resist as he set it in its place.
The two gods above cheered as Fujin raised the basket to ready another stone.
This process went on all day, every day, and soon became a pattern that made Waraku forget about the normal flow of time. When the Floating Bridge of Heaven was nearly three-fourths repaired, Fujin announced that there was now enough rope to send the demigod and the bucket to the Central Land of Reed Plains.
“That is where the remainder of the bridge’s stones rest,” he told Waraku as he readied the rope, its span coiled up into a small mountain. “We need each one, so the work may be slower than before. You must find them all.”
“I will find every one,” Waraku promised as Fujin began to lower him. “But wait,” he called out. “What if someone sees me?”
“They will not,” Fujin promised. “You are half-god, after all.”
The trip was so quick that the day had barely changed when the demigod set foot on the Central Land of Reed Plains. His wooden sandals made a crunching sound against the scattered leaves and twigs.
Waraku did not have time to ponder where to begin his search when two figures approached. The one on the left was a tall slim figure in a blue robe. The one on the right was shorter and wore the worn clothes of a fisherman. On his back was a woven basket for the day’s catch. Waraku did not have to ask if they were gods.
Other Gods Assist
“Finally,” the taller god said as they bowed to the demigod. “A messenger from the Plain of High Heaven. Susanoo sent word that a new child of Amaterasu was leading the effort to rebuild the Floating Bridge.” He produced a stone from his pocket. On its surface was a message in small calligraphy. “I am Suijin, god of the waters. And my companion is Ebisu, god of good fortunes.”
“A pleasure to finally meet you,” Ebisu said while reaching into his basket for a piece of dried salmon. “Here. You must be hungry.”
“New child,” Waraku muttered while taking the fish. Between bites, he told the two gods the story of his birth.
“Well, that confirms it!” Ebisu exclaimed at the story’s end, clapping his hand together. “We were right, Suijin!”
“Right about what?”
“What happened to the Floating Bridge! Suijin and I were on the other side of Mount Takamagahara when it happened. We, too, thought that rascal Susanoo had caused it, but when we saw the devastation, we knew that even he was not capable of such chaos. You see, there was a ferocious battle here. That has to be why Amaterasu felt fear in the stones.
“Not long after, Suijin and I found metal remains, likely a shield, bearing the image of a red crane within a circle. For centuries, the people here have fought under such banners. The battle must have been brief, as hundreds were already dead or dying by the time we arrived.”
“Did you see one who looked like me?” Waraku could not hide his voice’s unsteadiness.
“No,” Suijin said while shaking his head. “Even though half the forest was ablaze, it was still too dark, and we had to flee before other human beings arrived. Although they cannot see us, we gods tend to avoid such solemn places. We have spent the last year spreading word of the bridge’s destruction to the others who are stranded.”
“A year,” the demigod muttered. “I did not know it was that long.”
“Yes,” Ebisu replied, offering another piece of dried fish. “Bridge building is slow work. But not anymore. Suijin and I have collected the remaining stones for safekeeping.”
“Thank you.” A great weight lifted from Waraku’s heart. His task was nearly complete. “Then, let us finish it, so we can all go home.”
Suijin grinned. “We were waiting for you to ask.”
Over the next fortnight, the demigod hoisted the remaining stones into the sky and fixed them into place. The last stone was small, no bigger than a plum. He slid it into a small gap, whereupon the Floating Bridge of Heaven glimmered in the welcoming afternoon sunlight.
Waraku led the procession as Ebisu, Suijin, and the other gods made their long-awaited journey to the Plain of High Heaven.
The Demigod’s Request
That night, Amaterasu welcomed her brothers and sisters with open arms. Sake flowed like water, and a banquet the likes of which the Plain of High Heaven had never before seen filled their bellies.
Sitting in the place of honor to Amaterasu’s right was Waraku. Many times, the other gods had refilled his cup, but, for some reason, he did not share their joy. It was impossible for Amaterasu to ignore the demigod’s mood.
The celebration lasted the entire night. Near dawn, as the other gods slept, Amaterasu took Waraku aside. Her smile was resplendent glory. “You have done so much for us, my child. What blessings can I bestow upon you?”
He did not hesitate in his reply. “Oh, Sun Goddess Amaterasu, mother, please let me travel to the Central Land of Reed Plains, where I will remain at Mount Takamagahara forever.”
“Is that all?”
“No.” He breathed deeply before revealing his true wish. “There, and only there, please let me have Fujin’s control of the winds, Suijin’s control of the waters, Ebisu’s control of good fortunes, and Susanoo’s control of storms.”
Amaterasu nodded and, touching Waraku’s forehead, gave him the so little he desired.
No further words were shared between them. As dawn broke, Amaterasu ascended into the sky as the demigod descended the Floating Bridge of Heaven. As his feet touched the Central Land of Reed Plains, he no longer felt her gaze upon him but the warmth of the Sun.
Waraku remains on Mount Takamagahara, his voice the rustling leaves and babbling brooks. All who ascend the mountain from now on will use those sounds to find their way home safely, and always in good weather.
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This story is dedicated to the memory of Ward Wallach (Waraku), who loved Japan, and the other victims of Japan Airlines Flight 123.
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