Chapter One: The Journey Begins
Long, long ago—far, far back in time—when the land now called Japan was still known as Yamato, there lived a boy named Soran.
Soran had just turned seven years old. He was traveling with his mother, Tomo, walking day after day in search of the mountain village where she had been born and raised.
They walked and walked. Many days passed.
At night, the round moon in the sky slowly grew smaller. It became half a moon, then a thin bow of light, until it disappeared completely. Then, like a flower bud, it slowly began to grow again, becoming round once more.
This happened three times.
The weather grew colder with each passing day. Soon, snow would surely fall.
Their journey had begun when the large village where Soran was born lost a war against another village. His mother had grabbed his hand and run without stopping. The image of their grass-roofed home burning bright red stayed forever in Soran’s eyes.
Along the way, they passed through small villages and large ones. Kind people shared clothes and food with them. Some invited them to stay, but Tomo never remained in one place for more than three days. She wished to reach her home village as quickly as possible.
When there were no villages nearby, they searched for places to sleep where they could escape the rain and wind. Sometimes they spent the night inside hollow trees, behind large rocks, or in caves. Mats made of grass became their warm blankets.
“Mother, can we eat this?”
Soran held up a brown nut he had just picked. Grass mats were wrapped around his body, and straw sandals were tightly tied to his feet. The sun was warm that day, and he was sweating a little.
Seeing the nut, Tomo smiled softly. In her hands were large mushrooms she had just gathered.
“Oh, that’s sarunashi. When it ripens, it becomes sweet and delicious. It’s my favorite. Where did you find it?”
“Over there—by the river.”
They walked down a small slope together. They could hear the lively sound of flowing water.
Sarunashi vines spread along the branches near the river, heavy with countless fruits.
“Ki-ki!”
Two small monkeys scampered away as they approached.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you,” Soran said gently. “Please share a little with us.”
The monkeys watched from a beech tree as yellow leaves fluttered down around them. A woodpecker tapped at a tree nearby.
“It’s getting cold, so many fruits are ripe now,” Tomo said. “Let’s take only what fits in our bag.”
She placed a soft fruit into her mouth, slipped off the peel, and popped it out neatly. Soran laughed.
“Mother, you look like a child.”
Tomo laughed too. “I’ve eaten them like this since I was little. We grew up like monkeys in the mountains.”
Soran tried one himself, but it was sour, and he frowned.
A moment later, Tomo handed him another fruit. This one was sweet and delicious. Soran’s eyes widened, and Tomo laughed again.
Later, they spotted a fish in the stream. Tomo skillfully caught four, and they decided to stay the night.
As evening fell, Soran made a fire using a bow drill. He had grown very good at it during their journey. Soon, the smell of grilled fish and mushrooms filled the air.
That night, under the full moon, the forest whispered softly. Soran added wood to the fire while his mother slept. He wanted to help her rest.
The sound of insects and flowing water became a gentle song, and before he knew it, Soran fell asleep.
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