Tsurubami

  “Sensei? What are you doing here…?

  Your eyes… they’re green?”

  The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was my homeroom teacher’s face.

  “Hmm?”

  That was all he said as he stared down at me.

  “Where… where am I?”

  “Welcome to the underground, child of Medicine.”

  He extended his hand toward me.

  Only then did I realize I was lying on my back.

  I’d never lost track of my body like that before.

  What happened to me?

  Was there… a fire here?

  Burnt wood and charred debris littered the ground.

  And yet, the air carried a strange scent—

  cool, warm, and clean.

  Like a forest I’d once walked through.

  “Sensei, what are you talking about? What happened?”

  “Head Pastor.”

  “…What?”

  “That’s what everyone calls me.

  If you don’t want to draw suspicion, you should too.”

  “Oh…”

  I took his hand.

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  He’d said “Welcome to the underground”…

  Did he mean this really is the underground?

  As I stood up, he added:

  “If anyone sees you, it’ll be hard to explain.

  Let’s go to my church.”

  He turned and began walking briskly.

  I followed, staring at the small mole on his neck.

  It was him.

  He had to be the same teacher—my current homeroom teacher—the one who teaches Dark Doctrine.

  Kind, devout, full of wisdom.

  I’d always looked up to him.

  If there was a difference, it was his skin and eyes.

  This man was unnaturally pale,

  and his eyes were a translucent green I’d never seen before.

  And “Head Pastor”…

  That’s like the Archpriest, isn’t it?

  But that can’t be.

  He looks way too young.

  To become Head Pastor, you have to climb the ranks slowly—years of devotion and trials.

  No one gets promoted overnight.

  Even my teacher, who entered the faith early in life,

  was still only a Sub-Priest.

  And yet, this man looked to be in his early thirties too—

  but he’d already attained the highest office?

  “It’s fortunate this happened early in the morning.

  There’s no one around.

  My church is just ahead—it survived the fire.”

  It didn’t seem like much time had passed

  since I’d been in the confessional.

  This morning, I’d slipped out before the other dorm students awoke,

  climbed the spiral staircase,

  and reached the place I secretly called the Lord’s Tears.

  As I touched the holy water…

  it reached back and grabbed my arm.

  Everything after that was a blank.

  “You’re rather quiet, child of Medicine.

  What’s your name?”

  There it was again—child of Medicine.

  “…Tsurubami.”

  “I see. You’d look better in dark gray—kuro-tsurubami—

  rather than that pure black formalwear.”

  He walked calmly through the charred ruins ahead of me,

  and I followed, still tense.

  Then I asked, trying to keep my voice steady:

  “What does ‘child of Medicine’ mean?”

  “I’ll explain when we reach my church.

  I don’t know why you came to the underground,

  but I do know this:

  There are those here who wish you harm.”

  I looked up.

  The sky—if you could call it that—had lightened slightly.

  It looked kuro-tsurubami to me—dark with a hint of blue.

  Is that what underground dawn always looked like?

  Being in an unknown place…

  Being targeted by someone I didn’t even know…

  It was terrifying.

  But I didn’t want this man—this Head Pastor—to think I was weak.

  I still dreamed of becoming Archpriest one day.

  I had to be brave.

  “We’re here.”

  “…Huh?”

  In the middle of the burnt wasteland—

  so small I hadn’t noticed it until now—

  a white stone chapel stood, alone.

  Unlike muddy blacks used for commoners' clothes, this rich shade was worn by nobility for mourning.

  In ancient Japan, it carried dignity, sorrow—and quiet strength.

  Even in the Manyoshu, garments of "tsurubami" were revered.