At present, I—Sansui Shirokuro—was staying at the Wynne estate, my wife’s family home. Together with our daughters, Lain and Fanne, we were spending time as a family. As for what we were doing, Lain had Fanne sitting in her lap as she read her a picture book while Blois and I watched the heartwarming sight of the sisters together.
“And so, the prince and the princess lived happily ever after. The end.”
Fanne was still very young, so pointing out that she probably couldn’t understand the story would have been terribly uncouth. Just seeing Lain act like a proper big sister made both Blois and me happy. Fanne sat on Lain’s lap, looking at the picture book and occasionally pointing at it. She seemed more interested in the illustrations than in Lain’s narration. Just seeing them like this was enough to make us happy as parents.
But that was how Blois and I felt—Lain apparently felt differently. After setting the finished book aside, she asked me with a slightly dissatisfied look:
“Hey, papa, aren’t there any other picture books? We’ve already read all the ones we have.”
“Well... Probably not?”
Fanne likely didn’t understand the contents anyway, so reading the same book over and over wouldn’t have been a problem. But Lain wanted to do things properly. She was a genuinely good child, able to think from another’s perspective. That said, there was nothing I could do to fulfill her request.
Picture books were fairly expensive in this country to begin with—and there simply weren’t many kinds available. If we’d bought some when we went to Magyan, we might’ve been able to bolster—maybe even double—our collection, but thinking back, we hadn’t even known about Fanne then. So it couldn’t be helped.
“What do you think, Blois? If we went to a big shop, would they have more?”
“Only famous stories get turned into picture books, so there really aren’t that many.”
Blois dismissed my idea. It seemed this country truly lacked variety in children’s books.
“I want to read Fanne something new...”
“That you feel that way probably already makes Fanne very happy, you know?”
“I don’t think so.”
Lain soundly rejected Blois’s attempt at consolation, leaving Blois on the verge of tears. Well, Lain was at an age when picture books were genuinely fun, so she probably judged things based on her own standards.
“Then how about this—we make a new picture book ourselves?”
I said it half on impulse, but even I thought it wasn’t a bad idea. If we weren’t actually binding it, it should be easy enough. It would be fun just to make, and with both Blois and me involved, it would be good family bonding.
“Oh! Then I’ll draw the pictures!”
“And I’ll write the text!”
Lain and Blois both got excited.
Yes, this is exactly the kind of feeling I was hoping for.
But at that time, none of us had yet imagined just how difficult it was to create a picture book—or rather, a story.
We prepared plenty of sturdy paper large enough for a pop-up book, along with crayons to illustrate it. Now it was time to make our picture book. To give baby Fanne a new story to read, the three of us would work together.
“Hey, papa. What kind of story are we making? If we just recreate an existing one, it’ll be the same, right?”
“That’s true... Maybe we could take an adult story and make it kid-friendly. Ah, no, that might be hard too.”
I’d only ever made functional things at best, like wooden swords. When it came to crafting a story, I had no concrete ideas. Even though I’d suggested it, I was completely out of inspiration. Then Blois offered a good idea.
“Sansui, why don’t we just use a story from your homeland?”
“Oh, you’re right. Then the one I remember best would be Momotaro.”
I’d left my homeland five hundred years ago, but I still remembered Momotaro. At least to me, when I thought of picture books, it was the first story that came to mind.
“What kind of story is it?”
As Lain grew curious, I began explaining the outline.
“There’s a group of monsters called oni who collect treasures from all over. A swordsman named Momotaro sets out to defeat them, accompanied by three animals, and takes back the treasure.”
“That sounds fun!”
I realized I hadn’t explained why he was called “Momotaro”—but talking about being born from a peach would probably confuse her, so I left that out.
“What animals go with him?”
“A dog, a monkey, and a pheasant.”
“A dog, a...monkey, and a pheasant? I know dogs, but what are monkeys and pheasants?”
That brought things to an abrupt halt. Dogs existed here, but Japanese macaques and pheasants did not. Honestly, I wasn’t confident I could even draw them, so I decided to cut them out.
“They don’t have to be those animals. Why not use ones you know? Like a dog, a horse, and a cow?”
Even as I said it, the balance felt off. Dog, horse, and cow would look strange in a picture book. All four-legged, the dog being small—it would make Momotaro stand out less. Thinking about it, dog, monkey, and pheasant really were well chosen.
“I want to do it properly...”
Even so young, Lain was serious. As a father, that made me very happy.
“All right, then how about Urashima Taro? The only animal in that one is a sea turtle.”
I offered a second idea. I hadn’t seen sea turtles in this world, but surely they existed—and they were distinctive enough to draw.
“What’s that one about?”
“Urashima Taro was a fisherman who saved a sea turtle being bullied by children on the beach. To repay him, the turtle took him to a palace under the sea. He was treated kindly there, and when he left, he was given a box called a tamatebako—but he was told never to open it.”
“Huh? It’s a gift, but you can’t open it? What happens if you do?”
“After returning to the surface, Urashima Taro opens it, and he turns into an old man.”
“I don’t want to draw that!”
After hearing the ending, Lain shouted in disgust. Thinking about it, she was right—it was bleak. The final scene was an old man wearing a young man’s clothes.
“Sansui, that story may have educational value, but making Lain draw it would be cruel.”
“You’re right...”
Even Blois flatly rejected it. If we were going to draw something, it should end happily. Now then—what else was there? Cinderella might fit the setting...but there were no clocks in this world.
“Then let’s make a picture book about papa and Blois!”
While I was pondering, Lain suddenly suggested something unexpected.
“Papa’s an ace and the Young Blademaster. I think it would work as a picture book.”
“Hmm. If we make a book about Sansui, that means I’ll be in it too...”
Blois didn’t seem necessarily opposed, which made it hard for me to reject the idea. Turning myself into a book was embarrassing, but it wasn’t for sale, so maybe it was fine.
“Still, my stories are pretty bloody, so let’s just focus on the ‘me and Blois’ part of it.”
Even so, we’d need to choose the episode carefully. Especially the public beheading incident involving the Domino Republic—that one was definitely out.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I don’t want to draw beheadings either.”
It seemed my concern didn’t even need to be voiced. If Lain turned my battles into a picture book, it would probably come out looking mentally unstable. Though...come to think of it, Momotaro wasn’t all that different.
“Then, papa! Tell us the story of you and Blois!”
“Well then. Once upon a time, in a certain place...”
It was a story about me in the present, but it did begin a long time ago, so I had to start that way. How should I explain it, though? If I started with my hometown in Japan, it would be confusing for Lain, Blois, and anyone who read it in the future.
I decided to start at a point they both already knew.
“Long, long ago, in a certain place, there lived an amazing swordsman named Suiboku.”
“Why is this from Lord Suiboku’s point of view...?”
Blois cut in, but it couldn’t be helped—it was easier to start the story that way. Master Suiboku had been born in a distant land, but he was still a person of this world.