#kurinsou

[himekokosu]

Primula japonica

[kotolunokystys]

“A Meeting with a Secret” From the Chronicles of the Primula Flowers

The very first morning I visited this place— the view before me felt as though a fragment of heaven had quietly slipped into our world.

Pale light, like drifting mist, filtered through the heavy mountain clouds, embracing the surface of the lake, which reflected the hues of the mountains and the endless sky above. And there, blooming quietly along the lakeshore, stood a crowd of candelabra primulas.

The swaying of each blossom, the shape of every leaf that made up the forest, the moss-covered stones and glimmering river pebbles— in all things, both large and small, I felt as though a divine presence gently resided.

So profound was the silence and beauty that I nearly forgot to breathe.

Then, all of a sudden— A bird’s call pierced the quiet of the forest. And from the long-forgotten, rusted cog nearby, there came a soft kon, as if something had lightly dropped upon it.

“Would you like to know the secret of this place?”

That’s how it sounded to me. As if the forest itself were asking.

[himekokosu]

Japanese Primrose

[kotolunokystys]

“A Thousand Hands, A Thousand Memories”

When the girl opened her eyes, she found herself in a space where the lake was wrapped in darkness.

There were no stars, no moon—only the black surface of the water spreading out quietly, endlessly.

From that still water, countless hands cloaked in radiant light slowly began to rise,

reaching silently toward the sky as if offering a prayer to the heavens.

As two hands gently met, memories began to speak.

They showed the lives that had been lost—

Wounded small animals, trees quietly withering deep in the forest,

and birds with nowhere left to fly, their wings flapping in sorrow—

These were the nameless, fragile lives that had vanished behind the chaos of war.

A single tear fell from the girl’s eye.

Then, one of the thousand hands softly reached into the depths of her heart and spoke:

“Until very recently, even a kind soul like yours would not have been allowed to come here.

That’s why now—we ask you for a favour.

Will you join us, and help restore the wounded nature and lives of this land to how they once were?”

Surprised, the girl quietly nodded.

Her body was wrapped in light, and before long, she too became one of the thousand hands.

As she rose far above the lake,

the girl bore witness to the memories each hand carried—one by one, with care.

“These are not all—but they are the thousand memories we can see.

And these memories are our wish. Please, let the world return to what it once was.”

Looking down at her feet, she saw the lake shimmer.

The flowers along the shore, the green of the forest, even the crispness of the air—

all gradually began to return to their true form.

In time, the thousand hands gently descended, separating from the girl,

each dissolving into the countless flowers blooming by the lake.

And then—

those blossoms, one after another, began to open wide like gentle palms,

and became… primula.

One of them softly spoke to the girl:

“Thank you—for listening to our wish. Now, it’s time to speak the spell.”

From the field of primula, that familiar metallic “kon” rang out once more.

“Hifumi Muku Kuna.”

The space around the girl began to tremble—gently, faintly, like a sigh of light.

[kotolunokystys]

“The Memory of the Battlefield”

In the next moment, the world lurched sideways. The air creaked and warped, and all the surrounding light and sound froze for just a breath.

Then her vision opened wide— the smell of scorched earth, the choking heat, the roars of rage and the thunder of violent collisions echoed around her.

At the centre stood a long, black shadow, and a creature clad in iron armour with a hundred legs.

It was a battle between ancient beings, fighting over the source of water.

The sky split apart, the ground trembled, claws flew like arrows, and fangs clashed like swords.

The girl stood frozen. She held her breath and watched the overwhelming battle unfold.

At last, a single arrow pierced the eye of the hundred-legged beast.

With that flash, the battle came to an end. The victor: the long, black serpent.

But the cost was grave. The forest burned, and the water spilled from the lake, spreading across the land, leaving behind the marshy trace of what would become known as Senjōgahara—the battlefield plain.

And where the creature’s blood had flowed, a red swamp remained.

In the aftermath of war, what remained were the transformed woods and the small, quiet life of a flower still trying to bloom by the lakeshore.

Once again, a soft kon rang out in the distance. And that sound gently pulled the girl’s consciousness somewhere further still.

[kotolunokystys]

“The Sound That Beckoned”

That morning, the girl stepped into a clearing where primula japonica bloomed so vividly, it seemed as if the forest and stream had painted it into being.

From a rusted old gear nestled among the flowers, she heard a sound:

—Do you wish to know the secret of this place?

Drawn by the voice, the girl knelt down and gently touched one of the blossoms with her fingertip.

In that moment, the flow of the stream lifted into the air, its soft ripple transforming into a turbulent spiral.

The lake’s light turned to darkness, the wind grew hot, and the air carried the faint scent of something scorched.

The sound of arrows slicing through wind, the uneasy stirrings of frightened creatures in the forest—

And then, two vast presences, their shapes impossible to grasp.

What she saw was the memory of a battle once waged upon this land.

Even amid scorched earth and a darkened sky, the primula stood blooming—layered, entwined—as if protecting something.

One of them whispered to her:

“From here on, you may not know what’s real—dream or illusion. So remember this spell, in case you wish to return to the peaceful morning: Hifumi Muku Kuna.”

The girl quietly nodded.

Then, from within the rusted gear, a soft metallic “kon” echoed—this time, just a little closer.

[kotolunokystys]

“An Unbroken Current”

When the girl whispered the spell, a gentle morning light wrapped around her once more. The next moment she found herself standing on the present-day shore of Senjō-gahama. A soft breeze skimmed the lake, and clusters of candelabra primulas swayed in silence.

There it was still—an old, rust-eaten gear, poised like a lone piece of sculpture. From the nearby trail she caught scraps of hikers’ conversation.

“This area was turned into a national park during the war. Officially it was for conservation, but rumor says the army was doing something with the lake. That gear is supposed to be a leftover from all that.”

Their voices drifted away on the wind. The girl glanced at the gear— and a burst of light flooded her vision. For an instant a strange scene poured into her mind:

Blinding gears, lined up in mist, turning slowly. Unknown machines wreathed in vapor rising from underground. Thick steel cables snaking into the forest. A vast black silhouette floating on the lake.

Was it built to seal the ancient battle? Or to begin it anew? Was it only ninety years ago, or from an age when gods still walked the land? She could no longer tell—

Now a father and child’s voices replaced the fading talk.

“One-two-six-nine—primu-la!” “Right—this is the highest lake in Japan.” “And it almost never freezes, even in winter—Ke-gon—”

Their words melted into the wind, smaller and smaller. The girl murmured to herself:

“1269… hi-fu-mi—almost a rhyme. A lake that won’t freeze… Kegon Falls? Is that where these waters go?”

An unfrozen lake, an unfrozen waterfall— Perhaps tears from that long-ago struggle are still flowing into this water from somewhere.

The primulas, like a thousand gentle hands, swayed as if to say yes to every unspoken question.

The battle’s memory, the healing hands— were they dream or illusion?

Whatever the shape, a quiet kindness still lives in this place.

The primulas seemed to bow in greeting. The girl smiled softly.

And then—kon. She thought she heard the old gear ring again.

[gachagachaart]