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Seiju's eyes flew open in the darkness. He got up slowly, stepped onto the dirt floor, and moistened his throat with what water remained in the jar.

It was no use. His thirst was not the sort that could be quenched by water.

Seiju had no family. Three years earlier, he had been formally wed to Osayo of Abiko Village, his second cousin. Though they had been delighted by the arrival of their child, she had suffered from ill health following the birth and died soon after. Omiyo, the child left behind, had died of measles sixth months ago. Neither of these were rare occurrences.

The village chief, Ihei, and his friends, Matahachi and Gosaku, tried to comfort him by telling him that he was still young, and had time to take another wife who would bear him many children, but Seiju had no desire to do so. He'd had no particular interest in heirs or family; all he wanted was to live as man and wife with Osayo, just like they'd sworn to do as children.

Now that Osayo was gone from the world, there were no lingering attachments tying him to it. When Omiyo was still alive, his sense of obligation to raise her had kept him going, but now that she was gone, too, he could find no reason to continue toiling away at work.

Seiju gave up work, his routine instead consisting of drinking during the daytime and lying about. At first, people were forgiving out of pity. Eventually, some began to scold him here and there, but he turned a deaf ear to it, sometimes getting into big fights, until finally no one wanted anything to do with him anymore.

Many of the men who worked in Sokomushi Village were earnest and quiet. Most of them didn't even drink alcohol. People who could not abide by the village's code or were loose-lipped were not allowed to stay. Conversely, those with good reputations who lived in places such as the neighbouring Abiko Village were, on occasion, invited to move there. Seiju was one of them.

Seiju's father had been a fisherman from Abiko Village. Seiju was the third-born son, faint-hearted, and disliked rough work. It was said that his earnestness was his only redeeming trait. His father and brothers had both given up on him and decided that he was unsuited to becoming a fisherman, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Hearing that Sokomushi Village on Mikazuki Island, an offshore isle, was seeking labourers and offering extremely good compensation, Seiju seized upon the timely offer and left the village behind. Since a boat came and went between Abiko Village and Sokomushi Village each day, however, he maintained contact with family and friends, and above all else, Osayo.

Sokomushi Village was a strange place. The harvest was unremarkable. There was a little wheat, and the rest was made up of chestnuts and daikon. They could fish, but the haul was far more plentiful in Abiko Village. That didn't mean that the people were starving, however. The most important job of all was cultivating the pear trees. In the summer, once the harvest season began, a chartered ship from the Emperor would arrive, every last pear would be loaded onto it, and in exchange the villagers were left with enough rice to comfortably feed an entire normal village for two years. Though it was said that there had been an unprecedented famine that year, and villages everywhere were going hungry, not a single person there had died of starvation.

That by itself wouldn't have been especially remarkable. What was remarkable was that no one even knew whether the pears actually were pears, as the villagers were strictly forbidden to consume them. Likewise, it was forbidden for anyone to speak of this to people outside of the village. Naturally, the number of fruits was counted over and over from the time they were buds (a process known as the 'inspecting of the fruit'). Even if they were knocked down by the wind, not so much as a single seed was permitted to be disposed of without supervision. When the time came for harvest, a single missing fruit would plunge the entire village into uproar. If anyone was found to be breaking these rules, regardless of whether they were a young child or an elder, they could no longer live within the village. Those who had been expelled were never heard from again. Most of the villagers believed them to be dead. If one were to break the village code, death may await. As long as you abided by the rules, however, there was no easier village to live in.

Perhaps to drum these rules into the minds of very young children, the village had a peculiar nursery rhyme.

Bagmoths, bagmoths, hanging from a tree,
They look delicious,
But however delicious they are,
You mustn't eat them,
Or you'll be trapped in a living hell.

Bagmoths, bagmoths, hanging from a tree,
If you can't help yourself,
If you simply can't help yourself,
Go ahead and take a bite,
And you'll be left in the mountains.

Seiju didn't know why they would refer to pears in such a manner, but in the village, they seemed to be called 'bagmoths'. They bore no particular resemblance to the insects, but he supposed it likely came from their contorted shapes. He didn't know what being 'trapped in a living hell' meant, either, though maybe, if it were meant to frighten children, it would sound scarier than simply saying they'd die.

Most of the residents of Sokomushi Village, whose only merits lay in their earnest and quiet nature, never so much as questioned why such laws existed in the first place. Seiju had been the same―up until he lost everything. After spending each and every day wallowing in alcohol, as both the sake and rice finally ran out, the sweet scent of 'bagmoths' began to fill the village once again.

I wonder what those pears taste like? he wondered. If the Emperor is giving us that much rice in exchange for farming them, they must surely be valuable and tasty. Are they gifts for the shogun?

An anger the like of which Seiju had never before felt began to bubble up within him. The village―and even Abiko Village, too―had no particularly skilled doctor, and were unable to obtain a sufficient quantity of medicine. He had heard that the shogun had his own personal doctor, who had studied rangaku, and was apparently a very fine physician. If he'd been around, Osayo and Omiyo would probably still be alive.

I'm going to eat some.

Stealing offerings meant for the shogun would surely carry the death penalty, but what did he care? He'd fill his belly with fruit, and if there was none left for the shogun, perhaps one or two officials' heads might roll.

And so, one midsummer's night, Seiju sneaked out of his house, slipped past the villagers serving as night watchmen, and successfully managed to pluck two fruits from their branches. He hurried back home and, without so much as lighting a candle, tasted one of the fruits. Wrapped in a paper bag, it was still slightly tough and not quite ripe, but upon tearing off the paper and sinking his teeth into it, an intense aroma spread throughout his mouth.

What on Earth!? Seiju thought, astonished. Is this a pear?

His tongue, mouth and throat quivered at the sensation. The sweetness, the sourness, the fragrance... All melded into one, overwhelming him. Seiju gobbled up the entire fruit, skin, seeds, calyx and all, and licked every last drop of juice from his fingers.

There was still one more fruit. This time, he decided he'd slow down and savour the taste, only to devour it even more hastily than the first.

And then, something unbelievable happened.

After Seiju had finished single-mindedly slurping down the fruit, he happened to look over at the dirt-floored room, and there he saw Osayo. She wore her finest kimono―one made of pongee, which Seiju had bought her before they were wed―and stood smiling sweetly down at him.

"...Osayo...!"

He thought she was a ghost, but it didn't scare him one bit.

"Have you come for me? To take me to Hell for eating bagmoths?"

He didn't care if she had. As long as he had Osayo by his side, Hell wouldn't be so bad. He'd much rather that than go on living alone.

"What are you talking about, Seiju? I'm no ghost. Eating those fruits enables you to travel back in time."

"Back in time...?"

"Yes. I'll prove it. Try touching me. You'll know right away that I'm not a ghost."

Timidly, he touched Osayo's outstretched hand. It was true―she felt like a living person, and he could sense her warmth. She was no apparition. Just as she says, thought Seiju, I've gone back in time and run into my wife when she was alive.

"Osayo...!"

Seiju embraced Osayo, squeezing her tightly.

"Seiju..."

That night, the two of them lay together like ravenous animals.

That was yesterday. When he woke up unusually early the following morning, Seiju realised that Osayo was gone. He looked about his house, unchanged from yesterday, and made sure that he was not in the past. The house was different from how it had been when Osayo was around. Omiyo wasn't there either, of course. Had it all been a dream...?

Maybe his eating of the fruits had been a dream, too. Perhaps the fruit contained the power to show him whatever dream he wished for. Or maybe, as Osayo had said, he really had travelled back in time, and had now come back again?

Seiju didn't know. But the taste and scent of the fruit, and the feel of Osayo's skin, lingered too vividly on his hands, on his body, to be so easily dismissed as a mere dream.

What will be will be, thought Seiju, and he wrapped himself up in his futon and pretended to be asleep. Fortunately for him, there was still time until the harvest, and since the fruits weren't counted every day, it seemed as though Seiju's deeds had not been found out. Relieved, he went back to sleep for a while, until, in the dead of night, he felt an incomparable thirst and climbed out of bed.

He wanted to eat the fruit once more, just one more time. And if he could, he wanted to see Osayo once more. Opening the door carefully, so as not to make a sound, Seiju slipped outside.

It was a moonless night. With starlight as his only guide, Seiju headed towards the pear fields. Someone would be on night watchman duty again, just as the previous night, so he was finished if anyone heard him coming. He had only taken two fruits last night, and today was not counting day, which had saved his skin, but if he were to take even more fruits, there was a high risk that someone would notice. There would probably be a count tomorrow. Tonight would be the last time. He might as well eat until his stomach was fit to burst.

If the fruits really did have the power to turn back time, he wanted to go further back, before he and Osayo were married, and tell her to never leave the village. That way, she could escape death.

Then, what would happen to me? Would I live here by myself, never marrying Osayo? But if we weren't married, would she would still be alive, and I working hard rather than giving in to despair? Or would I still have fallen into despair anyway at not being able to take Osayo as my wife, and eaten the fruit?

The more he thought, the more confused he became, and so Seiju decided not to think on it any more. He didn't care what happened. Once he ate the fruit, he would know.

The pear fields were on the tip of the crescent-shaped island. The fruit seemed to need a salty sea breeze to grow properly. More importantly, however, was the fact that the fields were surrounded by cliffs on three sides, providing ample defence against scoundrels. A tall fence had been erected around them, stretching from cliff to cliff and cutting across the island, with only one gate. Once the trees began to bear fruit, in particular, anyone carrying out work there had to pass through the gate, and each time they did so they were subjected to thorough searches of their person. It was just like a cage.

The reason why people were so rigorously searched even when entering was apparently down to a man who had once stuffed stolen fruits into a bag, thrown them from a cliff, and then attempted to recover them from the sea. Ever since then, all work tools were left inside of the fence, everyone entered empty-handed, and everyone left empty-handed. A guardhouse stood beside the entrance, and every half hour the two watchmen on duty that day would inspect each and every tree, checking to see if any fruits had fallen or the fence had been damaged. Seiju, of course, had himself experienced this duty many times. One could not sleep whilst inside the guardhouse, naturally, and had to keep their eyes and ears peeled all night long, prepared to dash over if the weather took a sudden turn for the worse or they heard suspicious noises.

Recently, as Seiju had been skipping out on work, he had not been summoned for guard duty, presumably as no one trusted him with it. That meant that they had given up on him, and that even if he didn't break the village's most important law by eating the fruit, he would likely be cast out sooner or later anyway.

If I act now, maybe they might yet forgive me.

The thought momentarily flitted through his head. Maybe no one would ever find out that he'd eaten the fruit. Maybe, if he turned over a new leaf and began working in earnest again, he might find himself another good wife like Osayo. But the thirst that welled up from within him was so great as to immediately chase the thought from his mind. In any case, only eating the fruit could quench this thirst.

With bated breath, Seiju peered at the guardhouse through the fence. It was occupied. Though their voices were too muffled to tell whom they belonged to, they seemed to be having a loud conversation about something. Sometimes he heard laughter, too. He could understand wanting to talk to keep themselves awake, but with their volume, they wouldn't be able to hear any nearby sounds.

Not a single soul had broken the village's laws in the last few years. Seiju knew that all of the watchmen had let their guard down because of it. The only things they feared were hail and high winds, and they believed that if they simply kept an eye on the weather, all would be well. It had been the same last night, too. If his theft was discovered tomorrow, the two on duty tonight would might be castigated for it. Despite the fact that they were friends with whom he had shared the ups and downs of life, Seiju didn't feel a shred of guilt.

The fence was too high to scale, and even if the guards were lax at their posts, they would come running if he broke it. Though Seiju was small and weak, his one saving grace was that it meant he was agile. The edge of the fence jutted out beyond the cliffs, and in fact, if one was nimble enough, there was a narrow foothold beneath the cliff where they could stand. Anyone courageous enough to head down there and cling to the cliff as they climbed across it could sneak in with ease. Seiju had once almost fallen from the edge of the cliff whilst walking along it, and it was then that he had made this discovery.

Still, if Seiju made a noise, it would all come to nothing, and it was difficult for him to make sure of his footing by mere starlight alone. It was a path that only Seiju, who was prepared to fall to his death in any case, could take.

Seiju squatted on the edge of the cliff, and gingerly stretched his leg out into the emptiness. Clinging tightly to the ground with both hands and feeling his way across the cliff face with his toes, he gradually began to descend. From the area where his chest was pressed against the wall, he could no longer trust his arms for support. His descent from there on would have to be even more daring and committed, or he wouldn't be able to make the foothold.

If I could do it yesterday, I can do it today, he thought, sliding himself downwards. For a moment, he felt as if he'd managed to grip onto the bare rock jutting out beneath, and then in a flash, he felt the ground under his right leg give way and lost his balance. The foothold had crumbled!

Seiju desperately reached out for the ground above. He drew his right leg close to his left, searching for what remained of the foothold. He heard the sound of the collapsed rock falling, and finally the sound of the water far below in response. The sea was uncomfortably quiet that night, making the splashing of the waves seem extremely loud. He felt as if his heart had briefly stopped. Once it appeared as though he was somehow alright, it began to thump wildly.

His next fear was that the pair in the guardhouse might hear the noise and venture outside to investigate. If he was found like this, there'd be no excuses for what he'd been up to. There was no guarantee that his foothold wouldn't crumble any further, but Seiju held his breath and clung to the cliff.

After what seemed like an eternity, Seiju decided that all seemed well and began to move, when suddenly he heard the guardhouse door open, accompanied by footsteps coming outside, and stiffened. Thankfully, it was only time for their scheduled patrol, and they both left in silence, beginning to count each and every fruit on the torch-lit trees. Seiju waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps, then gingerly shuffled across the foothold, and clambered up inside the fence. His heart still hammering, he hurriedly hid himself behind a large tool storage box containing items such as baskets for wearing on the back, shears, and ladders.

Seiju waited for the guards to eventually return and disappear inside the guardhouse, then put one of the baskets on his back, grabbed a pair of shears, and headed for the furthest possible tree from the shack. For the next half hour, it's all-you-can-pick, all-you-can-eat, he thought.

Selecting a particularly fine-looking fruit, Seiju deftly wrapped himself around the trunk of the tree and smoothly scaled it (something which everyone in the village could do), and straddled the thick, bottom-most branch. He snipped off a nearby fruit and tossed it into the basket. They were not usually treated so roughly during the harvest, but today was special. It'd be eaten soon enough, anyhow―a few bruises here and there wouldn't do any harm.

Seiju cut down the fruit one by one, until he grabbed the last fruit he could reach and was done with the tree. He guessed that there had probably been 15 or 16 of them. His basket had already begun to grow heavy. Unable to resist any longer, he took a fruit from it, ripped through the bag, and bit into it.

The deliciousness of the fruit sent a shock of tingles through Seiju's body. It tasted so good. The people of the village were such fools for being satisfied with such paltry compensation for the fruit, without ever knowing its taste.

Squatting down by the roots of the tree, he ate another fruit. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. Osayo hadn't appeared, and he didn't seem to have travelled back in time, but in that moment, Seiju couldn't have cared less. The only thing he was interested in now was gobbling down the fruit before him.

Not only did eating not ease his thirst, if anything, it only intensified it further. He wanted to eat more, more, more...

Forgetting all about staying quiet, Seiju finished eating the entire first batch of fruit he had picked. He didn't need the basket anymore. He decided to simply eat the fruits as he picked them, and hung the shears from his obi, climbing the next tree, eating, picking, eating, over and over.

"Seiju!" someone yelled from below. "What... What have you done!?"

Seiju looked down in the direction the voice had come from, and realised for the first time that he alone had torchlight aimed at him. The faces above the hands holding the torches, standing out faintly in the darkness, appeared strange. There were horns sprouting from their foreheads, and two large fangs peeking from their mouths. They were onis. Two onis. They danced about the foot of the tree Seiju sat in, jeering at him to come on down, come on down.

Seiju felt a wave of fear that he hadn't even felt when he almost tumbled from the cliff. It was the sort of fear that didn't come merely from the fear of death―Seiju wasn't afraid to die, anyway.

One of the onis vanished, and the remaining one began to climb the tree. Letting out a scream, Seiju thrust the shears towards the demon's forehead, right in between its two horns. The oni shrieked and fell to the ground. It twitched and convulsed, its arms spread wide, but eventually seemed to die. He had to run, and now.

Seiju leapt down from the tree, cautiously yanked the shears from the dead oni's head, and ran towards the guardhouse with them clutched tightly in his hand. From the other side of the gate, which had been left open, he saw a group of onis shuffling towards him. He counted seven, eight... a dozen or more. What was going on? Why was this happening?

"Seiju!" "Seiju!" "I'll kill you!" "I'll kill you!"

Seiju hurriedly shut and barred the gate. The sounds of banging on it frightened him all the more. Wasn't there anything more suitable he could use as a weapon?

Seiju dashed into the guardhouse and looked around. The building was a shack built into the ground, the floor bare of tatami mats, with nothing but rush matting laid on top of the earth. He found a sickle, used for cutting underbrush, and a sharp-pointed spade. He put the sickle into his obi alongside the shears, holding the spade in both hands.

Alright. I don't care if I die. I broke the village's rules. But I refuse to leave it to the onis. I'll fight until my last breath.

Seiju ran out of the shack, and saw that the onis were about to break through the gate. One of them had reached an arm through a gap in the broken wood, and was trying to pull on the bar. He swung the spade down towards its hand. The edge of the shovel, in use for many years now, was as keen as a blade. The oni's arm was severed cleanly halfway between wrist and elbow. It let out a scream along with a spray of blood. Curiously enough, rather than falling to the ground, the severed hand remained gripping the bar.

Seiju let out a roar. Hot blood surged throughout his body. Such energy was welling up from within him that he wondered just where it had been hiding all this time. He removed the bar and kicked the gate open, and the pressing onis moved back a step or two. Swaying, Seiju went through the gate. The onis gradually retreated. As if deciding that they couldn't take him on one at a time, they smartly lunged at him from both sides at once, as if it had been planned.

First of all, he struck the oni to the right of him in the middle of its forehead with the spade, then kicked over the one to his left. They seemed to be light, as it flew almost ten metres away. An impressive shower of blood spurted from the gaping wound in the right oni's forehead like something out of a mizugei water trick. Looks like there's nothing to worry about, Seiju thought, a little relieved. Onis though they may be, taking them on one by one didn't seem too tall of a task.

"What do you creatures want with this village!? I, Seiju, will not allow you to simply do with it as you please!"

"...It's hopeless." "He's lost his mind." "It's the bagmoths." "It's the bagmoths."

Their nonsensical murmurs were getting on his nerves. With another large swing of the spade, two more onis fell to the ground. One had its neck cut clean across, and an arm fell off the other. The remaining onis fled, making a commotion.

Seiju felt exhilarated. He never knew he had such strength within him. The heavy spade felt almost like a chopstick in his hand. The air hummed about him as he swung it over his head.

Seiju calmly returned to the village, and saw the faces of onis peering out at him from the doorway of each and every house. They had already seized the village. What had become of the villagers? As Seiju approached, the onis slammed their doors shut. He went around banging on them, calling out the names of their residents.

"Hey, Gisuke! Are you alright? Gosaku! If you're alive, answer me! Ochiyobo! Are you there!?"

Not a soul answered his calls. They must all have been killed while Seiju was engrossed in eating the fruit. A sudden wave of sadness boiled within. He couldn't have cared less what happened to them during his feast, and was caught off guard by how aggrieved he was at their deaths. Then came anger. Just what were those things?

Seiju returned to his own home, picked up a piece of flint, and started a fire outside of Gisuke's house. He yanked the thatching from the entire roof and put it on the fire, and it burst into vigorous flame. The fire began to spread to each neighbouring house, one by one. When an oni screaming something incomprehensible leapt at him, it swiftly fell victim to his shovel.

Big onis, small onis, onis wearing women's kimonos... Some ran at him, some tried to flee, some screamed and cried, others' clothing caught alight... Seiju mowed each and every one of them down.

Finally, after the village had fallen deathly silent, he flopped onto his back where he stood with exhaustion. The pale light of dawn had begun to creep across the night sky.

Seiju closed his eyes amidst the comfortable tiredness, and felt something gently snuggle up at his side. It was Osayo, of course. With a soft smile upon her face, she rested her head against his strong arm. Then, Omiyo squeezed in between them.

Ah... Osayo... You came back to me after all. I'm so glad... I'm so glad...