Saiyuki Graffiti Illustrations
A while back veronicacode send me some of the Saiyuki Graffiti images to translate, and she was nice enough to let me post both the images and translations here. So thank you veronicacode!!
Page 2,3
Page 2
The moon falls and birds cry, and we are full with the frost sky
To the fishing lights sorrowfully sleeping in the river beneath the maple,
From the cold mountain temple outside the ancient castle,
The midnight bell’s voice arrives at the passenger boat
---Nagatsugu
(Soto Note: I’m sorry, I don’t know how to properly translate poetry)
Page 3
The tip of the bamboo broom lightly meets with the ground, fallen leaves cry with a dry, rustling sound. The man listened, seated alone on a handrail in the main temple’s hallway. From there, he still couldn’t see the young boy sweeping clean the temple yard.
The sun leaned, and cumulus clouds easily covered the thin purple sky. It looked like a giant fish swimming from autumn into winter. Not even the withered tree branches, stretched up as though drawing the weave of a net, could trap that fish. --- The sound of sweeping stopped. Waiting for the boy who would surely appear here shortly, the man searched for casual words of greeting.
He couldn’t hope to catch the gently deepening purple of the sky, so like those magnificent and pure eyes.
On that far off day, fall into the eastern sky
Page 4,5
Page 4
These millet dumplings at my side, leave ‘em alone and get out of here
Page 5
Who the hell do you guys think you’re talking to? I’ll kill you
…We aren’t expressing much difference from the usual
Page 6,7
Page 6
Homeless bird, what darkness are you heading toward, crying an invitation to nothingness
Page 7
That sweet sweet candy was always offered from the man’s sleeve; that’s why the boy believed it was a magic pocket.
I’ll show you I can do whatever you teach me better and better. The man narrowed already narrow eyes in a smile, and placed meltingly nice words and colorful wrapping paper into the boy’s small hand. They were sweet enough on the boy’s tongue that, like a crushed up rainbow, they made him forget the pains of his body.
But what the boy really wanted was not cookies or gum or candy; he wanted those kind fingertips extended out to him and him alone.
“I am one of your candies. If you hit your pocket, the biscuit breaks. If you hit it over and over again, it turns into crumbs and when the wind blows, good bye”
Sweet and painful, darker than darkness, the flavor of chocolate is like a drug
Page 8,9
Page 8
“This voice won’t reach”
Page 9
“---See ya. Keep living, Gojyo,”
he whispered, seemingly without a shred of guilt, and walked out into the evening town on light steps. Even though he’d spent a year away, this was the place he had grown accustomed to living in; by choosing his path he would be able to make it out of the town without seeing much of anyone. The man unerringly headed toward a narrow alley, catlike slipping his thin body by.
As he walked, he groped his back pocket but, remembering that he had just thrown away the empty box, he bites his tongue. ---Suddenly, heat ran up his side. Without even the time to turn around, the knife that stabbed him twists nastily in his flesh. He breathes raggedly for two or three seconds, then without a word crumbles to the concrete. The back of a small-bodied man fleeing enters his vision for a moment, but it isn’t anyone he remembers. For the method, it was probably some skilled guy hired for money. Speaking of, whatever happened to that yakuza chick from a year ago? ……Eh, whatever. Doesn’t make a difference now. That’s right, nothing matters to me now. In the puddle of warm blood he struggles, unthinkingly, to stand; finally he collapses, facing up at least. He was still smiling, grinning at the corners of that red red mouth. Hyuuu, a faint breeze intermittently cries. It was the wind from the man’s throat.
“---jyo”
In place of the unvoiced syllable, small red bubbles are born and burst
“……gimme a … cigarette, yeah?”
Slowly shaking fingertips extended to the void, but a cigarette’s light did not burn there
Bad friends
Page 10,11
Page 10
Bond
If there is a way of life that praises freedom, there must also be a way to live protecting that which you are attached to
This comfortable pain binding my chest tells me, when I am proud of myself, that surely I can become stronger than anyone
Page 12,13
Page 12
The sharp mountain trail continued on. However, the young man walking in front didn’t turn his handsome face, just kept walking. Unlike the Western continent where he had been born and raised, the majority of this land was not gifted with paving. I, with my body that no longer feels “hardship”, am a different case, but it is clear that for the delicate-bodied young man, this journey is a considerably difficult one. So saying, when I unskillfully made a fuss and offered a hand, he became angry. “What unnecessary actions…… All you need to do is watch over me from behind.” When I remained silent, unsure of his words’ true meaning, the young man whispered, still with his thin back to me, “Being watched over by someone else - your heart won’t break that way.” Thos words were, in the end, tough and somehow self-deprecating. He didn’t mean “It’s comforting having someone else with you”; he meant that he, who found nothing more embarrassing than exposing an awkward fact to others, bet his pride on insurance in order to avoid losing to himself.
If that was better than my not being here, I don’t mind
If he said watch, I’d do so until this body decayed and disappeared. Only when I am needed --- then in an instant these arms that have lost their living warmth can cross that distance
Fate falls without a sound
Page 13
Recently, the man’s routine has been to exchange meaningless conversation with the woman in the basement cell. From days previous he would go down to the basement for what he called his time killing; he enjoyed with tea the way the women kept as playthings would sob and break. But from the start that woman was somehow different. “Hey, I’m bored. Why don’t we talk?” That was the first time the man had been used as a time killer. Even though she let out complaints, the woman never pled for her life; instead she would suddenly pose a riddle using words or numbers, or pull out a meaningless memory. If he showed even the slightest interest she would look triumphant like she had pulled something over on him. Countless times he wondered if he should just off her, but for some reason he couldn’t put it into action. ---There was a name the woman often voiced. Impassively she said it was that of her lover, her younger twin brother. When asked if this brother resembled her, “His face probably does. You’ll meet him too; he’s almost here, after all” she’d smile, brilliantly enough to send a thrill down the man’s back. When he inquired what this brother would do when he came, the reply came from between thin white fingers pressed to crimson lips: probably only one thing. It was the motion the woman used when reasoning out a riddle.
“---Aaah, so that woman died?” the man calls out to the blood-soaked back of the young man huddled, lost, on the floor. It’s all in order to continue the fun of meaningless conversation.
“Reminisce of puppets”
Page 16,cover
Page 16
Afterward
I am grateful that not too long ago I was asked to provide a “service brochure” of everyone. Due to personal physical troubles, the creation and shipment were both terribly delayed, and I humbly beg the forgiveness of everyone inconvenienced because of this. All the images published in this brochure were done while I was on leave…. In other words, they were drawn after I was discharged from the hospital. I had previously inked many sketches for use in this pamphlet, but whenever I thought of continuing to draw the “Saiyuki” manga, I wanted struggle and properly face my troubles, and so I redrew everything from scratch. I personally enjoyed drawing them, and if everyone enjoys them just a little, I will be blessed. From now on, too, I hope you will cheer for these Saiyuki characters
Minekura Kazuya
A day in August, 2007
Page 2,3
Page 2
The moon falls and birds cry, and we are full with the frost sky
To the fishing lights sorrowfully sleeping in the river beneath the maple,
From the cold mountain temple outside the ancient castle,
The midnight bell’s voice arrives at the passenger boat
---Nagatsugu
(Soto Note: I’m sorry, I don’t know how to properly translate poetry)
Page 3
The tip of the bamboo broom lightly meets with the ground, fallen leaves cry with a dry, rustling sound. The man listened, seated alone on a handrail in the main temple’s hallway. From there, he still couldn’t see the young boy sweeping clean the temple yard.
The sun leaned, and cumulus clouds easily covered the thin purple sky. It looked like a giant fish swimming from autumn into winter. Not even the withered tree branches, stretched up as though drawing the weave of a net, could trap that fish. --- The sound of sweeping stopped. Waiting for the boy who would surely appear here shortly, the man searched for casual words of greeting.
He couldn’t hope to catch the gently deepening purple of the sky, so like those magnificent and pure eyes.
On that far off day, fall into the eastern sky
Page 4,5
Page 4
These millet dumplings at my side, leave ‘em alone and get out of here
Page 5
Who the hell do you guys think you’re talking to? I’ll kill you
…We aren’t expressing much difference from the usual
Page 6,7
Page 6
Homeless bird, what darkness are you heading toward, crying an invitation to nothingness
Page 7
That sweet sweet candy was always offered from the man’s sleeve; that’s why the boy believed it was a magic pocket.
I’ll show you I can do whatever you teach me better and better. The man narrowed already narrow eyes in a smile, and placed meltingly nice words and colorful wrapping paper into the boy’s small hand. They were sweet enough on the boy’s tongue that, like a crushed up rainbow, they made him forget the pains of his body.
But what the boy really wanted was not cookies or gum or candy; he wanted those kind fingertips extended out to him and him alone.
“I am one of your candies. If you hit your pocket, the biscuit breaks. If you hit it over and over again, it turns into crumbs and when the wind blows, good bye”
Sweet and painful, darker than darkness, the flavor of chocolate is like a drug
Page 8,9
Page 8
“This voice won’t reach”
Page 9
“---See ya. Keep living, Gojyo,”
he whispered, seemingly without a shred of guilt, and walked out into the evening town on light steps. Even though he’d spent a year away, this was the place he had grown accustomed to living in; by choosing his path he would be able to make it out of the town without seeing much of anyone. The man unerringly headed toward a narrow alley, catlike slipping his thin body by.
As he walked, he groped his back pocket but, remembering that he had just thrown away the empty box, he bites his tongue. ---Suddenly, heat ran up his side. Without even the time to turn around, the knife that stabbed him twists nastily in his flesh. He breathes raggedly for two or three seconds, then without a word crumbles to the concrete. The back of a small-bodied man fleeing enters his vision for a moment, but it isn’t anyone he remembers. For the method, it was probably some skilled guy hired for money. Speaking of, whatever happened to that yakuza chick from a year ago? ……Eh, whatever. Doesn’t make a difference now. That’s right, nothing matters to me now. In the puddle of warm blood he struggles, unthinkingly, to stand; finally he collapses, facing up at least. He was still smiling, grinning at the corners of that red red mouth. Hyuuu, a faint breeze intermittently cries. It was the wind from the man’s throat.
“---jyo”
In place of the unvoiced syllable, small red bubbles are born and burst
“……gimme a … cigarette, yeah?”
Slowly shaking fingertips extended to the void, but a cigarette’s light did not burn there
Bad friends
Page 10,11
Page 10
Bond
If there is a way of life that praises freedom, there must also be a way to live protecting that which you are attached to
This comfortable pain binding my chest tells me, when I am proud of myself, that surely I can become stronger than anyone
Page 12,13
Page 12
The sharp mountain trail continued on. However, the young man walking in front didn’t turn his handsome face, just kept walking. Unlike the Western continent where he had been born and raised, the majority of this land was not gifted with paving. I, with my body that no longer feels “hardship”, am a different case, but it is clear that for the delicate-bodied young man, this journey is a considerably difficult one. So saying, when I unskillfully made a fuss and offered a hand, he became angry. “What unnecessary actions…… All you need to do is watch over me from behind.” When I remained silent, unsure of his words’ true meaning, the young man whispered, still with his thin back to me, “Being watched over by someone else - your heart won’t break that way.” Thos words were, in the end, tough and somehow self-deprecating. He didn’t mean “It’s comforting having someone else with you”; he meant that he, who found nothing more embarrassing than exposing an awkward fact to others, bet his pride on insurance in order to avoid losing to himself.
If that was better than my not being here, I don’t mind
If he said watch, I’d do so until this body decayed and disappeared. Only when I am needed --- then in an instant these arms that have lost their living warmth can cross that distance
Fate falls without a sound
Page 13
Recently, the man’s routine has been to exchange meaningless conversation with the woman in the basement cell. From days previous he would go down to the basement for what he called his time killing; he enjoyed with tea the way the women kept as playthings would sob and break. But from the start that woman was somehow different. “Hey, I’m bored. Why don’t we talk?” That was the first time the man had been used as a time killer. Even though she let out complaints, the woman never pled for her life; instead she would suddenly pose a riddle using words or numbers, or pull out a meaningless memory. If he showed even the slightest interest she would look triumphant like she had pulled something over on him. Countless times he wondered if he should just off her, but for some reason he couldn’t put it into action. ---There was a name the woman often voiced. Impassively she said it was that of her lover, her younger twin brother. When asked if this brother resembled her, “His face probably does. You’ll meet him too; he’s almost here, after all” she’d smile, brilliantly enough to send a thrill down the man’s back. When he inquired what this brother would do when he came, the reply came from between thin white fingers pressed to crimson lips: probably only one thing. It was the motion the woman used when reasoning out a riddle.
“---Aaah, so that woman died?” the man calls out to the blood-soaked back of the young man huddled, lost, on the floor. It’s all in order to continue the fun of meaningless conversation.
“Reminisce of puppets”
Page 16,cover
Page 16
Afterward
I am grateful that not too long ago I was asked to provide a “service brochure” of everyone. Due to personal physical troubles, the creation and shipment were both terribly delayed, and I humbly beg the forgiveness of everyone inconvenienced because of this. All the images published in this brochure were done while I was on leave…. In other words, they were drawn after I was discharged from the hospital. I had previously inked many sketches for use in this pamphlet, but whenever I thought of continuing to draw the “Saiyuki” manga, I wanted struggle and properly face my troubles, and so I redrew everything from scratch. I personally enjoyed drawing them, and if everyone enjoys them just a little, I will be blessed. From now on, too, I hope you will cheer for these Saiyuki characters
Minekura Kazuya
A day in August, 2007