Dendera by Yuya Sato

much, and she opened her eyes. The cold had never been too much of a problem back in the Village, but here it was a matter of life and death. The only clothes the women had were the gossamer-thin white ceremonial robes they had worn to Climb the Mountain, supplemented by whatever straw overcoats they had been able to rustle up without real tools, and the huts they lived in were so flimsy the roofs had to be regularly cleared of snow lest they collapse under its weight. The cold was ever present. It suffused their lives.
    Because Kayu Saitoh lacked the fiery determination of the Hawks who lived for revenge on the Village, or even the quiet resolve of the Doves who were passionate about turning Dendera into something safe and stable, she could not comprehend what possessed people to put up with this level of suffering and hardship just so they could extend their miserable lives that little bit further. She needed to consider how she would choose to live her life from now on. It was the first time ever that she was faced with such a choice. When she lowered her eyelids again she saw the figure of Kura Kuroi floating up in her mind’s eye. I must find time to go and see her tomorrow, she determined, and by and by she was overtaken by a death-deep sleep that won out over the ever-present thick cold. She dreamed no dreams.
    The next morning Kayu Saitoh awoke amidst icy air that seemed to sap away at her very soul. She flicked away the frost that had almost glued her eyelids shut and emerged from the straw bedding. Ate Amami, Shigi Yamamoto, and Inui Makabe seemed to have grown used to the cold, for they were blithely asleep amidst the chill air that was enough to freeze solid the remnants of last night’s broth still in the pot. Kayu Saitoh felt a painful, raw swelling at the back of her throat and realized that she must have some sort of cold coming on. She dragged her miserable, maladapted body out of the hut and into the still-dark breaking morning. Snow had settled where it had fallen during the night, more snow. The promise of the new day was in the air, and when Kayu Saitoh exhaled, crisp clean puffs of crystal emerged, but the beauty of the scene was lost on her.
    Then her nose picked up a strange odor.
    It was a cloying scent, dense, and it puzzled Kayu Saitoh. It might have been different had the women been walking around and going about their business, but nobody had stirred, as far as Kayu Saitoh could tell, so there should have been nothing to pollute the fresh morning air. Kayu Saitoh lifted her nose and sniffed, and she followed the scent. The two storehouses came into view. Kayu Saitoh noticed that the ears of corn that had been hung out to dry were now scattered on the ground in ruins, and she hurried toward them to investigate. As she grew closer the smell became worse, much worse, assaulting her senses and forcing her to stop using her nose to breathe, but still she pushed forward.
    The women at the scene had become chunks of meat.
    Blood. Entrails. Teeth. Clumps of hair with pieces of scalp still attached. All scattered about the entrances to the two storehouses. It was impossible to tell which body part belonged to which person. Furthermore, one of the storehouses had a hole ripped into its side. Agitated, Kayu Saitoh tried to consider what to do next, what her next step should be, but she couldn’t think; her head wouldn’t work. She couldn’t link one idea with the next. The next thing Kayu Saitoh was conscious of was sitting on the ground being kicked in the back by Mei Mitsuya, who had somehow arrived on the scene.
    It took a few such kicks before Kayu Saitoh snapped out of her daze. She looked up to meet Mei Mitsuya’s eyes. Mei Mitsuya’s wrinkle-etched face was trembling, and she looked about to collapse, but she kept herself propped up using her wooden staff and sheer force of will, speaking the names of the old women who had been brutally dismembered. Kayu Saitoh learned through this that the dead