Free Dragon of the Mangrooves by Yasuyuki Kasai

than ever. And the shrine had one thing that had always frightened him.
    The shrine was reportedly built in the latter period of the Tokugawa, a medi-eval time of samurai governance. It had many reliefs under its eaves. Mythologi-cal sacred animals, such as Chinese lions and phoenixes, had been splendidly carved. A dragon on the front architrave was a true masterpiece among them. A carver of considerable ability must have made it.
    But it had scared him. He had understood it was merely an imaginary creature carved out of wood. Yet it had been so lifelike to his eyes that he couldn’t help feeling it real.
    He had fearfully looked up the architrave. The dragon had been there as usual.
    Clad in whiffs of clouds, it had clawed the air with its sharp, pointed talons. It had been a monster. Its iris-less eyes had appeared to shine, in spite of its natural wood surface. Its nostrils had seemed ready to steam at any moment.
    He had gradually been possessed by a delusion that the dragon might come out of the relief. If it happened, the dragon would kill him and tear his body to pieces on the spot.
    Unfathomable fear had begun gnawing at him. The harder he had tried to control his increasing pulse rate, the more alive the dragon had become, as if it read his thoughts. Suddenly, he had come to believe it was not a delusion anymore, but a sheer reality.
    The scales that had never been anything more than a wooden crafted work had trembled. The cloud twining around its four limbs had become translucent and emitted white, hazy light. Then, he had been astounded to see the long, stout tail wiggle.
    A real dragon must have waited in the shape of the relief to catch some prey here. After seeing him, it must have been revealing its true colors. He had immediately tried to run away, but his feet had disobeyed his will and hadn’t moved, as if nailed on the ground.
    All of a sudden, he had heard a strange voice, deep and serene: “Don’t be afraid. A dragon surely looks fierce. But it is Buddha’s vassal chastising evil.”
    When he had looked again, the dragon had lost its shine. It had had no vitality at all. It had been nothing more than a weathered, musty relief. He had breathed easily again and looked around. The evening twilight had been gradually surrounding the shrine, as usual. It had almost been time to go home. Relieved from fear, he had become thirsty. He had strolled down the approach and headed for a water fountain beside the gate.
    The donator of this shrine had most likely been a considerable dragon lover.
    The spout of the fountain was also a dragon’s head. It was a cast statue full of ver-digris. Clear water had trickled ceaselessly from it into the basin.
    He had picked up one of wooden dippers from the basin. Right at the moment he had begun filling it with water, he had seen the statue open its eyes.
    Both had glittered in pure gold. Then he had sensed the dipper taken violently from his hand. When he flinched and drew back a few steps, it had no longer been a statue. A long trunk had appeared from the rock base of the spout and had wriggled to get out of it. Its innumerable scales had emitted a pale green light.
    He had frozen on the spot. The dragon had breathed out sharply, as if threatening him. The bridge of its nose had wrinkled deeply. It had been a clear sign of hostility.
    When it had bared its fangs, rows of sharp teeth had shattered the dipper.
    Sensing danger, he had stepped back further. But he had had no chance. The dragon had raised its head and charged at him with lightning speed.
    He had been resolved to the fact that he would die. But at the moment the fangs had been about to bite at him, he had heard another voice from nowhere apparent again: “Wake up, Kasu! How long are you going to sleep?”
    It was a voice of Superior Private Hirono, the loader of HMG Tomita Squad.
    His dreams always ended the same way. Strangely, he had had the same dream ever since the Army had drafted him.
    In his hazy view,