Watchnight Bells by Incomprehensible

Joya-no-Kane

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Watchnight Bells

Kagome knows that the world is unfair. She has seen many injustices performed by the most hallowed of men and the prejudice and discriminatory treatments of others.

Kagome has seen a woman beaten by the hand of her husband and a child broken by his mother’s harsh words. She has seen the after effect of rape and the devastation of death – has felt the burn of fire and the sting of rain and watched the inequities of many.

Kagome knows the world is unfair, but she can’t help but feel that there is a sense of disproportion. Where a rapist will get off free, the raped will forever carry around the psychological baggage of so brutally being broken down and forced into submission.

The light suddenly goes out as the candle is snuffed out, the flame finally eating up the last of the candid white wick and Kagome rises from her position at the altar.

The white obelisk, rising from the centre of the shrine, is a symbol of hope she does not feel. The brazier is to her front, the licking flames low, no more than spluttering, cherry-red hot coals ready to die while the wind is at her back; cold and unforgiving, greeting her and ravaging her with its bitter chill.

It is an acrimonious night and the countryside is lit aglow with many moving spits of flame: eager participants out to greet the New Year. There are to be fireworks, she has heard. Kagome doesn’t like fireworks – too loud and bright and obnoxious. Her heart can’t take the excitement anymore.

Kagome leaves the temple, her gate unhurried – paced – as she moves along through the forest outside the heavenly sanctuary, her feet, unguided by any source of light, finding their way: each footfall sure and steady.

They have walked this path many times before, and her eyes are not needed.

Kagome is old. She can feel it in her bones, the brittle maturity settling, just waiting to send her to pieces the first chance it gets. She isn’t getting any younger. Kagome knows this.

It’s been many years since she has last visited this place Kagome thinks as she breaks through the tree line, the sloped valley before her overlooking the vast jungle of concrete and steel. Five graves adorn the hill, the granite markers keeping silent watch over the glowing, fluttering, changing lights of Tokyo City; of her.

In the distance, the first of many tolls ring through the air, strong and steady like the heart that beats in her chest. The sound is hollow and sad. There will be many more to come.

Hyakuhachinokane has already sung its tale to the world, wishing away the old year and now Joya-no-Kane will echo the requiem.

At last, it’s midnight.

Kagome sits by the grave and listens to the bell ring. Over and over again it resonates, and with each long vowel the metal contraption bellows, Kagome can feel tugging at her sins.

It’s a bittersweet feeling that Kagome can’t decide if she likes or not. These days it seems that she can’t decide on anything. Kagome has heard that age makes one picky, but she can’t tell if what she has is actually indecision or simply the cantankerous attitude she’s adopted over the years.

Her age is apparent, set and framed by the wrinkles that line her face and the many peach-and-brown splotches that dot her skin, making her seem older than she really is.

At last, she will be with her love again.

The last of the 108 bell-rings sounds and Kagome closes her eyes.

This year she will not celebrate the New Year.

This is the last time she will come.

This is the end.

(Hyakuhachinokane roughly translates to ‘bells tolling out the new year’. Joya-no-Kane is a tradition practiced in Japan where Buddhist shrines will ring the temple bells 108 times. It’s believed that the sound of the bell has the power to clean man of his 108 sins. If you squint, you can see the pairing. Maybe...? – Incomprehensible)