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“This is the beginning of the twentieth century.”

How many people in the Meiji era felt the arrival of a new century when they heard those words?

The first year of the twentieth century was 1901 in the Western calendar. In the Meiji era, it was the thirty-fourth year, which was no turning point for Japan. Thirty years had passed since the Meiji Restoration, and topknots and katanas had finally become a thing of the past. It can be said that Western civilization had made great strides, but for Japanese people who had long been accustomed to era names, the term “twentieth century” was still unfamiliar.

But it was precisely because it was unfamiliar that "twentieth century" had such a fashionable ring to it.

Just like when the Murai Brothers Company started selling cigarettes called “Twentieth Century,” the merchants all started using it as an advertising slogan. “Twentieth century” was seen everywhere from store banners to advertisements.

They didn’t know what the twentieth century was. But it was most certainly an auspicious thing because all the important people were talking about it, and it was used as a sales pitch. It was the Japanese spirit to go along with auspicious things.

Just as slapping a shaven head made the sound of modernity, when commoners tried saying “twentieth century” out loud, they felt as if they had been completely transformed into people of a new era. (1)

The term “twentieth century” was new. New words had authority. If you showered someone who clung to old ideas with the words “in the coming twentieth century,” you would be able to unilaterally brand them as “outdated.” It was the very return of the Imperial standard that boasted tremendous power during the Boshin War.

As the young people marched forward carrying the flag of the twentieth century and preaching new ideas such as naturalism and women’s liberation, the people of the old era cheered them on with “Oi, twentieth century!”

It was the first New Year of the twentieth century. In a small Buddhist temple named Zenshokuji located in Otsu, Goshu-Omi Province, rice cakes were busily being made as offerings to the principal deity, and New Year's sake and osechi were being served to visiting followers, just like any other New Year. There was not a single trace of the twentieth century there.

The son of the head priest, Sakamoto Kihachi, was turning nine this year. After finishing his duties, he was praying in front of the home shrine in the back room when his older brother, Seiroku, came in with a grin on his face.

“Oi, twentieth century. What are you doing so enthusiastically?”

“I was giving the New Year’s greetings to the ancestors,” Kihachi answered, turning towards Seiroku and tilting his head. “I’ve been wondering about it for a while, but what is this twentieth century?”

“Oh, you’re interested?”

Seiroku sat down next to him while shivering from the cold in his large padded kimono. He would be eighteen next month, but his smiling face was dignified yet somewhat childish.

“Unlike the Western calendar, a century is counted as a century every hundred years. It’s been 1900 years since the birth of Jesus Christ, so the twentieth century is starting this year.”

“Why do we have such a complicated way of counting even though we got the Western calendar?”

“Who knows? Well, if it’s a long period of time, you can describe that era concisely. If it’s a century with a lot of wars, you can call it the ‘Century of War,’ or if it’s a century with a lot of industrial development, you can call it the ‘Century of Industry.’”

“So what kind of century will the twentieth century be?”

“I’ve got something good to show you.” Seiroku then took out a newspaper clipping from his pocket and handed it to Kihachi. “Read this. It’s an article that predicts what kind of era the twentieth century will be.”

The newspaper contained an article entitled “Prophecies of the Twentieth Century.”

There were twenty-three prophecies in total, centering on technological developments, such as, “Cordless telephones will be developed, making it possible to call from New York to Tokyo,” and “Railways with air conditioning and heating will enable travel between Tokyo and Kobe within two and a half hours.”

“This prophecy says that electricity will replace firewood and coal as fuel, but what does that mean?”

“Electricity will power everything. Not just telephones, but also locomotives, temperature control devices, and cameras.”

Electricity.

Just like the twentieth century, that was also something Kihachi wasn’t familiar with.

When he heard the word electricity, he thought of electric lights, but those weren’t something ordinary people could easily afford. Oil lamps were used in this house. So when he went with Seiroku to see the electric lights that were lit in Otsu for the first time four years ago, he was shocked to see how much brighter their lights were than lamps or candles.

This was the age when that profoundly mysterious, smokeless light drove machines.

“I see, so the twentieth century is the Century of Electricity.”

Seiroku looked dumbfounded at Kihachi’s words, but then he grinned, showing his white teeth. “You’re right. The twentieth century is the Century of Electricity.”

Feeling a stirring in his chest, Kihachi took out a blank folding book from the chest of drawers in the back room.

“I’ll try writing predictions for the twentieth century too.”

Kihachi’s clumsy handwriting was engraved in pencil into the book, which would normally contain sutras, prayers, and other sacred texts. When he finally finished, Seiroku peered inside.

“‘Number 1: Night-Repeller: Garments made of electric lights. You can walk around at night even without a lantern.’”

After Seiroku urged him to write more, Kihachi added two more items in a row.

“‘Number 2: Spirit camera: Photographing the spirits of ancestors and family members manifested by electric lights. Number 3: Electric cannon. …Allows humans to move at the speed of lightning.”

Seiroku collapsed into laughter after reading what he wrote. “Stop laughing at me,” Kihachi pouted and tried to hide the book, but Seiroku snatched it from him before he could.

“Wait. Since you wrote all that, I’ll give this book of predictions a name.”

Though no one asked for it, Seiroku quickly grinded some ink and hmmed in thought.

“From what I can read from these predictions, it seems you’ve become interested in electricity...alright, I got it.”

With that, he handed Kihachi the folding book with something scribbled on the cover.

Electrical Catalog.

That was the name of Kihachi’s book of predictions.

“From now on, write your electricity-related predictions here. Since it’s the twentieth century, write twenty.”

The year was Meiji 36 (1903). Two years have passed since the brothers’ exchange.

While enduring the humidity of early summer, Kihachi was crouching down in the storehouse.

The doors of the storehouse were closed firmly, and the inside was musty and deathly silent. In the darkness, Boys’ May Festival dolls, old furniture, and Buddhist items seemed like lurking, silent monsters about to pounce on him.

Kihachi squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned against the wall, breathing raggedly. Just then, he heard the bar on the doors lifting and jumped up. The double doors swung open, and the bright daylight dazzled him.

“Oi, Twentieth Century! What are doing, locking yourself up in this gloomy place?” a self-assured voice rang out. Kihachi opened his eyes a crack and found Seiroku standing imposingly at the storehouse’s entrance.

“Nii-chan, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the store?”

“I was given a holiday, so I came home. Were you locked up in the storehouse again?”

“...Dad yelled at me today because I was spacing out during Otsutome.” (2)

“That old man, it’s not like the tolerant Amida-sama would get mad at something like that.” (3)

“You’re one to talk. You don’t even believe in Paradise or Buddha.”

“My principle is not believing what I can’t see with my own eyes,” Seiroku said, laughing uproariously.

Though Seiroku grew up in a Buddhist temple, he did not believe in the gods or Buddhas at all. For that reason, he constantly clashed with their father and chief priest of Zenshoku-ji, Kumagorou—priest name Shaku Enki. After graduating from a commercial school in Otsu, he went to live and work at their uncle’s Buddhist altar store in Kyoto.

Since Seiroku only visited home once in a while, it had in fact been a few months since the brothers last saw each other.

"Anyways, it’s unusual for you to space out during Service.”

“...I was wondering what Sukhāvatī is like.” (4)

Zenshoku-ji mainly worshipped Amida Nyorai, who was said to save people with infinite light, no matter where or when, even in the darkness of ignorance. The land he created was called the Pure Land of Sukhāvatī.

It was a paradise said to be to the west of this world, on the other side of one hundred thousand million Buddha-lands. It was said to be a world without suffering, filled with beautiful flowers and music, where birds sang like celestial maidens, and where the light of Amida Nyorai enveloped all.

The main hall, where the Buddha was enshrined, was resplendent and magnificent with its gold decorations, supposedly to represent the Pure Land. It was part of Kihachi’s daily routine to perform Service with Enki in the mornings and evenings, but as he stared at the main hall this morning, he found himself daydreaming about the Pure Land and ended up making a mistake in his recitation of the scriptures.

Suddenly, Seiroku spotted the object Kihachi was clutching to his chest and nimbly pulled it out.

“I was wondering what you were hugging so preciously. It’s the Electrical Catalog.”

Kihachi tried to get it back, but Seiroku lightly evaded him as he opened the notebook, then started cackling.

“Number 6. Electric mover: Delivering items automatically by hanging items from an electric line.”

But he stopped laughing when he turned the page. He knitted his brows, looking bored, and thrusted the Electrical Catalog back to Kihachi.

“That’s it? You haven’t even filled up half the notebook.”

“I don’t know anything about electricity at all,” Kihachi pouted. “It’s the same with the Pure Land. I can’t understand things I haven’t seen, no matter how much I think about them.”

“Then this will be perfect,” Seiroku’s expression brightened for some reason. He held out his hand to the light shining in from the outside. “I’m taking you to the Pure Land.”

“...To where?”

“The Pure Land! If you don’t understand something, then you should see it with your own eyes.”

“Are we going to commit double suicide?”

“Dummy, do you really think we’re going to the other side of the one hundred thousand million Buddha-lands in the west? It’s still in the west, but it’ll take around two hours by train to get there.”

“The Pure Land can’t be that close. Are you taking me to see a play or something...” Kihachi, clutching his head, remembered something he must not forget and looked up, his face pale. “Have you told Dad yet?”

“Not at all. We’re sneaking out of the house. And I didn’t even tell him I’m back.”

“No, no, he’s definitely going to yell at me later.”

“You won’t die, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Even so, Kihachi hesitated. “We’re going now,” Seiroku dragged him off. “Everything looks dark when you’re locked up in a storehouse like this.”

Kihachi was disoriented by the strong sunlight as soon as he stepped outside. At some point, the trees in the garden had become covered in new green leaves. Before he knew it, summer had already begun outside in earnest.

“If we’re going out without telling anyone, then we should have gone to O-Ise-san,” (5) Kihachi muttered as he sat on the hard seats of the train. Next to him, Seiroku laughed. “Like a nukemairi?”

In the past, when mass pilgrimages to Ise Grand Shrine were popular among the masses, apprentices and maids would sneak out of their houses to visit the shrine. This was called nukemairi. Those who returned from nukemairi were said to have received divine blessings for business prosperity, so they weren’t punished by their masters.

“Dad might forgive us if we are on a nukemairi. Anyways, the place you’re taking to me to is like a temple festival street stall, right? There’s nothing surprising about that kind of place.”

“Then where should I take you to surprise you?”

Kihachi thought about it for a little bit. A postcard with a picture of a French townscape he once saw came to mind.

The alabaster and magnificent Arc de Triomphe, the resplendently decorated Palace of Versailles, and the Eiffel Tower which pointed upwards to the sky. That foreign scenery was completely different from anything in Japan. It didn’t even seem like a place that existed in this world.

“Got it. I’ll be surprised if you took me to France.”

Kihachi assumed that Seiroku would chuckle and say he couldn’t do that, but on the contrary, Seiroku’s expression turned more and more triumphant.

“Well then, that works out perfectly.”

A few hours later, Kihachi was in France.

A giant gate, painted white and resembling the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, rose before his dazed eyes.

He was quite sure that just a few minutes ago, he had gotten off the train at Umeda Station in Osaka and walked to Tennou-ji. “Well? Are you surprised now?” Seiroku, standing next to him, puffed out his chest. “This is the venue of the Fifth National Industrial Exhibition.”

The National Industrial Exhibitions were Japanese “expos” that were staged five times since the Meiji era began.

Since Japan was opened to the world, the nation was absorbing the culture and technology of the Western great powers in an effort to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them and developing the ability to eventually become a leading nation. However, compared to the Western nations, there were still things that hadn’t yet been achieved in Japan.

One of those things was holding an international exposition. “International expos” was the common name for them.

The Western nations all held international expos for the goal of showcasing the newest technologies and promoting industries, but it was an impossible task for Japan, which only possessed immature technologies, to hold an international expo. So, it was proposed that Japan would hold its own expo instead. This was the National Industrial Exhibition.

As the exhibitions were increased, so were the positive reviews. And so this year, in Meiji 36 (1903), the fifth National Industrial Exhibition, said to be the grandest yet, was held in Tennou-ji, Osaka.

Kihachi would only know all this afterwards. At this time, he felt as if he had been spirited away to an unfamiliar world.

After Seiroku took out the tickets he had bought in advance, they passed through the gate and emerged onto an avenue with flower beds and fountains arranged down the middle. The long avenue was packed with visitors, and it was lined on both sides with elaborately decorated white Western-style houses.

“These buildings seem to be the exhibition halls. Let’s go to the Machinery Pavilion first.”

As soon as they entered the Machinery Pavilion, their ears were assailed by a thunderous roar that sounded like monster snores. The pungent smell of metal and oil made it hard to breathe, and Kihachi saw with his own eyes rows of gleaming black machines producing soap and tobacco.

The machines here all seemed to be powered by electricity. Electric fans relieved the heat inside, and Kihachi, enjoying the breeze, marveled at the power of electricity powering the various machines.

He quickly grew accustomed to the machines. But in the Wonder Pavilion, which they visited next, he found even more astonishing things.

The exhibits were all ghastly and extraordinary. During the wireless telegraph demonstration, Kihachi was terrified by the invisible radio waves; and during the X-ray demonstration, he was so frightened by the light that could penetrate human skin and reveal bones that he couldn’t even stand up straight.

“That’s enough, I’m scared. Let’s go home,” Kihachi grumbled.

“Then this will be our last stop,” Seiroku said, and led him to the adjacent theater.

The audience was buzzing amongst themselves in the darkened seats. Kihachi was uneasy, wondering if something was about to happen. Just then, the stage lights came on, and a Western woman in a white dress began to dance to music.

The dancing woman, her white skirts unfurling like wings, was illuminated by colorful lights, making the skirts appear to shift and change colors. This beautiful dance, reminiscent of fluttering butterflies or flowers, was the electric fire dance performed by the actress Carmencella. (6) Before he knew it, Kihachi was entranced.

“That dance was incredible! I want to see it again!”

Even after the performance, Kihachi was eager for more. “I don’t have that much money,” Seiroku said, looking unusually troubled. He carried Kihachi out of the theater. By then, Kihachi’s fear had completely transformed into interest.

At the Canadian pavilion, canned fruit and boxes of sweets were stacked almost to the ceiling.

Kihachi looked at the confectionery tower with longing. Seiroku, smiling wryly, bought him a jar of cookies tied with a red ribbon. Kihachi quickly grabbed a cookie and shoved it in his mouth. The crisp texture and an incredible sweetness filled his mouth.

The amusement in which wooden horses spun around in a circle—called a carousel—was also quite fun. Seiroku and Kihachi sat on the horses, laughing innocently with the children and adults around them.

The two went on to tour the entire expo, finally ascending the observation deck of the Obayashi Tower.

From there, they could not only see the panoramic view of the entire venue bathed in the setting sun, but also the cityscape of Osaka with its towering factory chimneys, and even the city of Minoo in the north.

“The view is amazing. I wonder if we can even see Kyoto from here.”

“It is beautiful, but the ‘box’ we rode up in was scary.”

The Obayashi Tower was fifty meters tall. To get to the observation deck, one must use a conveyance called an “elevator” in the West. Kihachi was amazed by its convenience.

“Like the machines on display, that is powered by electricity.”

“Electricity really is amazing. It can even move people to a place this high.”

“But Japanese technology is still undeveloped. It’s still a far cry from the Paris Expo three years ago.”

Seiroku was referring to the Paris Expo held in Meiji 33 (1900). The moving walkways that carried people and the hundred-meter-tall Ferris wheel were all hot topics.

“Ah, I really want to go to Paris,” Seiroku sighed as he gazed at the view before him. “I want to climb the Eiffel Tower just once.”

“You still love going up to high places, huh, Nii-chan.”

In the twilight sky, the moon hung faintly in the corner. Kihachi recalled the first moving picture he had ever seen in his life. It was called A Trip to the Moon. It was based on a novel by the French author Jules Verne and told the story of a group of Westerners launched to the moon in a giant cannonball.

“There wasn’t a rabbit pounding mochi on the moon in that moving picture.”

“What, don’t tell me you still believe in that?”

“You don’t believe in things like that at all. You even said that the Pure Land doesn’t exist.”

“I’ve told you many times that I don’t believe in anything I can’t see with my own eyes.”

“…Even the Pure Land? Then if it doesn’t exist, where do people go when they die?”

Seiroku placed his hand on the slightly uneasy Kihachi’s head. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “But after I die, I plan on going to the moon. The moon is higher than anywhere on Earth. I want to see with my own eyes if there really is a rabbit pounding mochi.”

He smiled his usual confident smile as he spoke, but it felt more solemn than usual. The sun was already setting, and the sky was dyed a deep, dark red. Night was about to fall.

The two descended from the tower and headed towards the gate, preparing to go home. The closing bell rang, and visitors emerging from the various pavilions gathered on the main road. Kihachi felt nervous amidst the clamor of this unknown land and wanted to go home as soon as possible, but Seiroku walked leisurely beside him.

As if to further unsettle the already anxious Kihachi, Seiroku suddenly stopped.

“Sorry, I need to go to the restroom.”

Kihachi was about to make a noise of protest, but not wanting his brother to think he was a coward, he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” Seiroku said, and left.

Kihachi sat down on a bench by the fountain and opened the jar Seiroku bought for him at the Canadian pavilion.

The red ribbon tied to the jar had gone missing at some point, which he found a shame, but his bad mood vanished instantly after eating the sweet cookies. Five minutes passed quickly as he chewed on the precious cookies little by little.

“The restroom must be pretty crowded.”

The cookies were all gone. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, then thirty, forty minutes. Kihachi, waiting for so long, began to realize that something wasn’t right. He stood up from the bench and looked around, but there were no familiar faces in the crowd.

The sun had now completely set. The chalk-white buildings gradually turned a dim, deep blue. Kihachi felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn’t calm his mind down.

“Nii-chan!” he shouted those words with all his strength, but received no response. His anxiety only intensified. The thought of being stuck in this unfamiliar place at night, not knowing how to get home, made his teeth chatter. Tears streamed down his face.

Will I never be able to go home again? I don’t want that. I don’t care if Dad beats me as long as I can go home safely.

A wave of fear washed over him, as though something was about to attack him in the darkness. Kihachi crouched down on the ground, tears streaming down his face, desperately chanting, “Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu.” (7)

O-Ise-san, Amida-sama, anyone will do.

“Somebody, please blow away this darkness.”