Where Dreams Collapsed

The afternoon following his class was slow by Anu’s standards. He had nothing to do but stare at the photograph of the stone inscription as he awaited the Director's verdict on his reconnaissance trip to Sapporo tomorrow. Despite the excavation of the Shinmyōbun Cavern being two months away, he still wanted to witness the piece of history before it was entrusted to Bunkachō. He hoped it would help with the process of decipherment.

Picking another sheet of paper from under his journal, Anu swiftly drew the pictographic symbols. Next to it, he scribed three letters - one that seemed to be a fusion of the Roman alphabet forced upon rudimentary Kanji. It was really aggravating. This was worse than Egyptian hieroglyphs. There was neither beauty to it nor logic, an ugly medley of words, a mockery of languages.

Exasperated, he let out a frustrated sigh. There were no similarities for him to work with. He had been pressing the pen over the sheet, drawing rudimentary Kanji from the likes of Kojiki and Nihon Shoki. Each letter carefully crafted as his eyes unblinkingly remained on the Shinmyōbun; maybe a line might match or a curve? Anything that could carve sense through this maze of language. And after another hour of trying, he dropped the pen and leaned backwards on his chair.

“At this point, just find a Rosetta stone already,” he groaned. Despite his bold declaration during class, the young professor was gradually trodding down a path of disbelief. No similarity, no patterns to discern with, not even a glimpse of familiarity with later scripts. It was as if this language — nationally termed Shinmyōbun or divine text — didn’t belong to this world.

There was a gentle tap on the door before the doorknob turned, almost hesitatingly. Anu returned to his position before replying, “Come in.”

With a sheaf of paper tucked under her arms and a dossier stuffed in her tote, Ayano hastily entered. She was donning gold-rimmed Windsor glasses as she shot him a serious look.

“The director has been asking for you.” She placed the sheets with a thud and brought out the dossier. It was the preliminary report from the site in Hokkaido. “There has been a new unearthing from the site, something to do with a second inscription…” She flipped the dossier open, flicking through with urgency. Her fingers trembled as she stopped at a picture.

Anu promptly got up and leaned towards her.

“This is unlike what we found before,” said Ayano, her tone no longer hiding the excitement. “Not only have the letters survived erosion, but in the lines three and four-” Her fingers pointed at the bottom lines of the stone slab in the picture. “-rudimentary Kanji, ones close to Kojiki with some semblance to Nihon Shoki have been inscribed.”

Taking the dossier for himself, he gazed at it unperturbed.

“With this, Hokkaido Shinmyōbun will no longer be undecipherable…” he mused at the possibility as Ayano peeked from beside him. Her chestnut hair flooded his peripheral vision, but Anu was too ecstatic to complain.

“It won’t happen overnight,” she said, trying to sound serious, but her expression could barely conceal the masked joy. “But it can be done.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “The script is no longer lost.”

“With your best interest in mind, Professor Sisodiya, I cannot allow you to travel to Sapporo,” Director Okinomiya declared, sitting cross-legged over the tatami, caressing his grey beard, his posture relaxed and his voice firm. “The Hokkaido Shinmyōbun for all its ethereality has been a project of nothing but dead ends, and I think it’s time we moved on from it, at least for the time being.”

“I beg your pardon...?” asked Anu, perplexed. His back lightly touched the tremors of the shoji, showering him in an amber hue.

Director Okinomiya brought his chawan to his mouth as he silently sipped on the matcha. Anu, who had barely revelled in the bliss of the fabled Japanese Rosetta stone, raised his brows. He was here to confide in the Director about the meritorious discovery, no longer laden in riddles. But this refusal was quite unexpected.

Behind him, on the other side of the engawa, the shishi-odoshi tapped at its counterpart, whispering a hollow melody. The gentle stream of water trickled below, forming ripples over the glossy surface of teien-ike.

“Four years have passed since you conferred your doctorate,” the Director replied in his deep, raspy voice. “Yet you have learnt nothing of patience. Maybe, holding onto the acceptance would have proven to be the better judgment, despite the regret it would have brought me.”

Anu’s eye darkened upon the Director’s, his former doctoral guide’s, declaration. He searched through the older man’s brown eyes, wishing to find a tinge of sarcasm, humour, lie, or deception. But all he saw was solemn regret in the old man. He had really made up his mind.

“Why…” Anu muttered, holding onto his powdered cuffs. “Why would you say that? Why now?”

‘When I am so close to claiming this era’s greatest discovery.’

“Have you heard of the contemporary echoes within the high table?” asked Director Okinomiya, in a quiet stupor.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I am sure your assistant,” Director Okinomiya brushed past his complaints, making his skin crawl with an itch. “Dr. Ayano…”, he paused, fixing Anu with his gaze, the anger stifled by his love.

“She has been worried, might I add, going out of her way to protect what is left of your dignity as a human. When was the last time you checked up on Dr. Schneider? Or Dr. Asakura?”

“I didn't peg you to be the one to interfere in others’ personal affairs,” Anu said firmly, the last strands of civility fading. His heart thumped against his chest as his vision dimmed ever so slightly. He was witnessing the last visage of his meritorious career.

“Ayan- Dr. Inoue’s engagement with my life, regretful or not, has never stained my responsibility towards this Institute, and by extension, this discipline.” He rattled the dossier, emphasising its importance to his reality. “Accolades, awards, papers, I got them all. Despite the glamorous offer from the West, I, of my better judgement, chose…” he hitched a breath, pausing, as he re-examined his words too late.

“Pride is a dagger of one’s own creation,” Okinomiya started after a pause, his tone icy but whimsical. “That harms none but the heart of its author.”

“I…” Anu's lips parted, a semblance of an apology escaping his lips, caused by his own folly. “I... Didn’t mean it that way.”

“You never mean most of what you speak.” Director Okinomiya sipped the last of his tea. “But it leads to the ruin of you and your loved ones nonetheless.”

“Dr. Schneider…” Anu started, recalling the eccentric blonde man’s proclamation of discovering every artefact just by desktop study. “He… is not working.”

“Be careful of what you utter.” Director Okinomiya raised his brows. “He is a veteran of the discipline. Not as prodigal as you, but a scholar nonetheless.”

“You label him as a scholar,” he defended his argument. “But all he cares about is academia politics and the gossip around the high table.”

Over the last six months, since the start of excavation, Dr. Schneider had been frequenting Anu’s office uninvited. Initially, there were jolly debates, with jibes about his engagement with Ayano, but over time, it evolved into gossip among the faculty.

He knew all about the rumours and scandals, the affairs and the vandals. And with his heavy German accent, he would profess, “Son, I have seen a lot with my years, but this generation, your addiction to glory, they seem to be the most interesting of all the scripts I ever deciphered.”

“Did you ever wonder why?” Okinomiya flashed a fleeting smile, and his wrinkled fingers trembled as he tapped on the tatami.

Anu shook his head, declining the offer. He wasn’t here for a jolly chat. He needed the permission fast, and now.

“I am an old man. I can go on about the utter philosophical indulgence of those around you and your incapability of comprehending them, but I am sure you don’t have that kind of time.”

Anu, out of his self-interest and a burning desire to decipher the script, nodded. He could sit there, giggle and drink, maybe accept his words of wisdom and come to see the wrongs within his distorted figments of vision. But the passage of time passed, and so did his patience.

“It’s final, Anu,” Okinomiya sighed. “The excavation won't go past summer, and the decipherment, at least by Institute standards, stops this winter. Collectively, the Faculty of Letters see this project as a negligent approach to a collaborative effort. The complaints, however small, couldn’t be overlooked, and your conduct has run out despite my best effort to give you chances. Thus, your excursion up North, for now, is annulled. If fortunate, before the bunkachō, we will try to arrange a brief one-day...maybe three-day walk through the first and second cave, but that's all. You will receive an official mail with the final verdict early next year.”

A brief silence filled the vacuum that their conversation left. Anu, who had been feeling the shivers, did little to hide his tremble as his lips quivered. His head felt light and his legs heavy. He wanted to run away.

“You were the only person I believed who could trust me to decipher it,” Anu uttered in a concluding show of desperation.

“And I was the only person who did believe, but you see, Anu,” Director Okinomiya stood up, as the creases in his navy blue Yukata relaxed. “This annulment of the project was never about your capabilities as a scholar. It was everything about your stance as a person. And to that extent, Anutapura Sisodiya, you disappointed me.”

The shoji slid open with a click, as Director Okinomiya, clad in his blue-Haori, stepped outside. He parted with a final glance at his former student, and with another click closed the door.