Chapter 2
The village was built on the rocky summit of a mountain in the Kanto region.
A past tectonic movement caused a portion of the bedrock to rise, creating an isolated rocky terrain separated from the ground, with its own unique ecosystem. Although this area is situated in Japan’s temperate zone, the climate was cool and dry, with very little annual rainfall. As such, this place is not considered a suitable place for humans to live.
As a matter of fact, the land remained largely untouched, up until it was cleared for the cultivation of the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’. At the time, the lack of roads made traveling to the village using vehicles impossible, with walking being the only viable method of getting to the village.
Arriving at an unmanned train station at the foot of the mountain, it took us almost half a day to reach the village through roads paved by the villagers themselves.
The route itself was quite challenging, even for an experienced climber like me. The trail itself was a few steps above animal tracks, and it became necessary to scale rocks to get closer to the village.
Naturally, the task proved far more taxing for the overweight Utsurogi. We were forced to take frequent breaks, to the point where we had nearly lost the sunlight en-route to the village. Contrasting her father, although Yo was skinny, she dutifully followed me. Whenever he seemed like he was about to give out, she would tug on my sleeve to clue me in. To make matters worse, Utsurogi would eat and drink with careless disregard for our limited supply, so much so that we were forced to give him our share of supplies. By the summit, we were running out.
However, I’d realized something through all of this. Utsurogi’s bullish gluttony was what allowed Yo to eat her required intake. Yo ate very little as is, so inevitably, to push his daughter to eat what was needed, he acted as her poison tester of sorts, resulting in him eating more.
Yo would only eat what her father makes her. I can’t say for sure whether this approach was correct, but even so, it was clear that Utsurogi loved his daughter deeply in his own way.
Nevertheless, staying with the pair would mean that we would reach the village as night drew close. Although the last mountain road was steep, it was straight, so I went ahead and pushed towards the village slightly in advance. Breathing here was tougher—the oxygen was thinner here in comparison to the ground.
And then, the moment I finally reached the top of the mountain path and stepped into an open area …
My field of vision, which was supposed to be dimmed by the approaching night up until now, was suddenly enveloped in a radiant light.
This is …
Ears of wheat stood tall, firmly rooted in place. Their long peduncles—stems—like cat’s whiskers, stretched out towards the heavens, and each time they swayed in the cool mountain breeze, they twinkled, scattering rays of the dusky sun they were bathed in. Those countless flickers made up an image of shining, golden waves.
The wheat fields were truly a sea of gold. A sight that can only be seen when harvest season is just around the corner.
“… I have to admit, there were many times where I considered leaving, but this was worth all the trouble.”
I immediately took out my camera and started taking reference photos.
As I was doing so, I heard footsteps behind me. The sound of feet stepping on grass, dirt and gravel. I wondered if the latecomers had caught up. They arrived earlier than I thought they would.
“You know, thanks to you, it seems like I got here at just the right time,” I exclaimed, furiously snapping the camera shutter over and over again.
“—That’s good to hear. In my village, they are perhaps … in human terms, God.”
The voice of a man, as sharp as the wind blowing on the rocky surface. I stopped pressing the shutter and turned around.
A tall man stood behind me. He had tanned brown skin and wore a checkered shirt, jeans and sturdy work shoes. Only his glasses, with their thick black rims, gave him the look of a scholar.
“… Who are you?”
“I heard you were coming to interview me, Mr. Kishibe. Welcome to our village. My name is—”
“Shozo!”
As the man was about to introduce himself, I heard Utsurogi’s voice. He had just finished climbing the hill. Although he must have been exhausted, he came running elatedly with his daughter Yo hoisted on his shoulders. The big man called Shozo firmly embraced Utsurogi’s large body, nearly being tackled in the process.
“Long time no see, Toshiya, Yo.”
“It really has been a long time.”
They then separated themselves and shook hands firmly. They were so full of joy at seeing each other, they looked as if they were about to dance a little. Even the shy Yo was smiling, as small as the smile was.
“From the looks of it, you’re the chief of this village, correct?”
“Yes.” The big man quickly took his hand away from Utsurogi and took my hand with both of his own. I felt hard, calloused skin. “I am Shozo Yaginuma. I manage the cultivation of this ‘Paradise’.”
“‘Paradise’?”
Yaginuma then smiled, satisfied, as he cast a glance at the glittering gold fields of wheat.
“As you could probably tell from the spectacle you were witnessing. This is our Paradise of wheat.”
As we stepped into the village, which was built on sloping ground, I could no longer see the wheat fields on the elevated ground.
The ten or so houses were unlit, and it was impossible to see inside, although there were signs of people within them. The sound of livestock could be heard everywhere, but as far as I could see around me, there were no stables in sight. At any rate, this was a village where signs of life were scarce, one that was eerily quiet, a rigid sort of atmosphere prevailing throughout.
We left our luggage in a guesthouse—a crude hut like the wooden one built by the second piglet in “The Three Little Pigs”—and then proceeded through the village, Yaginuma serving as our guide.
“… Growing wheat, in a place like this? Color me surprised.”
To be frank, the pebble-covered ground did not particularly look like nutrient-rich soil.
“Mr. Kishibe, are you familiar with the Marginal Zone theory on the origins of agriculture?”
“Not at all.”
“It attributes the origin of agriculture not to the people that lived in the Fertile Crescent, but more to those living on the outskirts, in lands where the supply of food available for hunting was unstable. People who began to farm to establish a steady source of food … or something like that.”
“Wouldn’t wheat be unable to grow in that kind of land to begin with?”
“Correct. Despite this, an ancient variety of wheat existed, one that grew naturally in cold weather conditions that would usually render growth impossible.”
“—and I assume that’s what the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’ were?”
“Indeed. In ancient times, the wheat would store any sparse nutrient of the rocky soil, and as most plants withered and died off, the most durable ears of wheat continued to reproduce, becoming the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’.”
“From the looks of things, they seem to be growing on quite a scale in this village.”
“The wheat fields were made possible by humans … No, thanks to the result of the unfaltering dedication and self-sacrificial care by the villagers. Currently, there are around thirty or so combined people and livestock residing in this village.”
“But I don’t see a single house alight, even with keeping what you said in mind.”
“That’s the creed of our village. To live the same way as when the ancient wheat was alive as much as possible. No electricity runs through this village, neither gas nor water. We are entirely self-sufficient.”
“… So how did you build the wheat fields?”
“Naturally, everything was done by hand. Since it is impossible to even get farm machinery into this area, we picked up stones, pulled weeds, tilled the soil, and created an environment in which the wheat could grow from scratch.”
“Hey, hey, hey … are you being serious? Everything?”
I was stunned. Frankly, such zeal threw me off.
“You lot must be pretty captivated by the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’.”
“Or rather, this is how crops and humans should innately be.”
I tried sounding snide, but he remained unfazed, the conviction in his tone considerable.
“—The establishment of the Agricultural Revolution about 10,000 years ago solidified the symbiosis between wheat and humans. It was not just a choice by humankind. For wheat, too, the encounter with humanity was fateful in that it benefited its own reproduction. By choosing to encounter mankind with their outstanding intelligence and excellent collective action, the grasses of the Poaceae family—including wheat—were able to grow stably and spread their genes on a larger scale.”
“Why, you speak as if you were the wheat yourself!”
“Wheat relies on humankind to propagate, and humankind relies on wheat to reproduce. That is an undeniable truth.”
Yaginuma then took out two different looking ears of wheat and held them up.
The ears of wheat, illuminated by the torchlight, revealed themselves within the dark shadows. Unlike the modern varieties of wheat, with their dense rows of kernels, the kernels on the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’ were longer and thinner, and had less kernels overall. The outer skin was also quite thick.
“The shape is different from the modern bread wheat varieties cultivated across the world. This is the difference between cultivated and wild varieties. I found this ancient variety as a result of repeated genetic engineering experiments to create a completely new variety not belonging to any existing genetic lineage for a specific purpose. One of the original varieties of wheat that grew in primitive societies, that being the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’.”
“And so, you brought it back to life in the modern age?”
“Unfortunately, it had once disappeared from the forefront of history. But that mistake will never happen again. Eventually, all of humanity will come to cultivate the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’.”
Although his tone was quiet, one could sense the fanaticism which seemed to ooze out of his words.
Yaginuma seemed to harbor feelings toward the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’ beyond simply growing it as wheat for food. It could even be called a faith.
“By the way, I heard that the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’ have the ability to change the constitution of those who eat it—is that true?”
With little fanfare, I got straight to the point. After all, I was only interested in that particular detail.
“… Yes, there is no doubt about it. Later on Mr. Kishibe, you should try some yourself to test that.”
Despite my impolite questioning, Yaginuma remained as unfazed as ever as he smiled back at me.
“And what specifically changes about the person?”
“I can’t say for every case. It depends on the person.”
“Huh,” I said rather apprehensively, staring fixedly at Yaginuma. “From what I’ve seen, you don’t seem to have changed at all.”
“Is that so?” Yaginuma looked at Utsurogi. “What do you think, Toshiya? Have I changed?”
“You nearly look like a completely different person … Oh, Mr. Rohan. The old Shozo used to be a slender, beautiful-looking boy who looked like the most stereotypical scholar.”
“You didn’t have to go into that much detail but … whatever. Then, Mr. Yaginuma, if I were to eat the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’ myself, would I become a macho man like you as well?”
“The only thing I can say is that the changes depend entirely on you, Mr. Kishibe. At the very least, I can assure you that you’ll have become your most authentic self after you’ve eaten it.”
“You’ve got a lot of confidence. I’ll be holding you to your word.”
“I’m simply stating the facts.”
We pushed onward with firm steps, wading through densely grown grass.
“Unfortunately, the Harvest is already over, but the processing of the wheat is still underway.”
Yaginuma crossed a bridge made of split logs. Underneath it, a waterway ran through the village, neatly bisecting it into two. The spring looked cold and clear, the water running through it rather deep.
A hut made of bound wood stood along on the sloping ground.
The air was filled with the rich, fragrant aroma of freshly milled wheat.
Inside, the floor center was a step higher than the entryway. A millstone made of huge stacked cylindrical stones was placed there. The upper stone had thick wooden rods piercing through it, and from the outside it looked like a giant wheel.
With pants of exhaustion, hunched men gripped the wooden rods and pushed with all their might, slowly turning the millstone.
The upper part of the hut had timber stretched across it, and there was a young woman, hunched down as she squatted scooping up twinkling grains of golden wheat from a basket she held at her side, strewing them toward the millstone directly below. Pouring into a hole bored into the millstone, the grains of wheat were ground down with a grating sound, emerging outside from between the stones as a fine powder. Another group of women scooped up the raw wheat flour accumulated around the millstone, storing it in bags woven from wooden fibers.
Utsurogi nodded his head affirmatively at the sight. I didn’t exactly understand, but apparently the sight was quite impressive.
“Turning the millstone too fast will burn the grain, so you’re doing it manually to consistently maintain a slow speed, right?”
The villagers were so absorbed in their work that they did not say a single word in reply. Yo patted the shaggy head of Utsurogi, who withdrew, crestfallen.
“They aren’t even paying any attention to you. How do I say this … like it’s their artisan’s pride, or …”
“Everyone is dedicated to their work here. Eating the wheat from here, a place for everyone and everyone in their place. They’re all only doing what they’re most useful at. We don’t grow the wheat; we’ve been bestowed the honor of growing this wheat.”
Yaginuma murmured this, stirred by deep emotion.
“That adoration … it’s as if you really think that the wheat is a god.”
“Yes. If the wheat is God, then cultivation is worship. Processing the Harvest through milling could be seen as a harvest ritual to accept God into oneself, wouldn’t you agree?”
“If you’re really that devoted, then I guess you must be the real deal.”
Then, Yaginuma scooped up the ground flour of the ‘Gleanings of Paradise’ with his hand. The flour spilled from between his fingers, as radiant as gold dust.
“—Wouldn’t you like to try some of this, by the way?”
Naturally, we nodded.