Welcome the Mother
Welcome the Mother
"Mmm..."
The sea breeze tickling my cheek slowly drew my eyes open.
The first things to fill my vision were a cloudless, brilliant blue sky and the white seagulls circling lazily beneath it.
The sunlight was warm, and Edward's broad back rocked ever so gently up and down with the quiet waves.
If I just kept my eyes closed a little longer, I could have drifted right back to sleep.
I pulled my silver hair under my cheek and started to curl up again—then the countless voices rising from the shore made me furrow my brow slightly.
"Mother has opened her eyes."
"Keep quiet. She may wish to sleep again."
"Priest-in-Charge, should we not make some shade for her?"
"To block the sun might be sacrilege."
"But does she not look dazzled by the light?"
"Then prepare a thin cloth."
"Shall we ready blue, or white?"
"Bring both!"
There were far too many people for it to be called whispering.
Hundreds of voices lowered at once, so the entire beach hummed like a beehive.
Still lying on Edward's back, I lifted my head just a little.
The wide sandy shore before the harbor and the stone pier were packed solid with people.
Soldiers in armor held their spears upright, forming a path to keep the citizens from surging forward, while priests in mixed blue-and-white vestments lay prostrate in the front ranks, foreheads pressed to the ground.
Behind them stood fishermen, merchants, porters, and sailors; some had even climbed onto crates and carts for a better view.
The walls and rooftops were crowded too.
Faces filled every window, and children perched on their parents' shoulders stared at me with wide eyes.
When I sat up, a low collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
"Ahh..."
"Just like the sacred painting."
"Look at that silver hair."
"The blue eyes match the records exactly."
"A god has come to our city in person."
I covered my mouth with one hand and gave a small yawn.
"Slept well..."
At that single murmur the elderly priest at the very front trembled all over.
Overcome with emotion, he raised his head—only to meet my eyes and hastily press his forehead back into the sand.
"Mother has rested in peace."
The moment the words spread, sniffling rose from behind.
Some clasped their hands and wept; others remained on their knees, offering endless prayers of thanks.
I hadn't done a thing yet, and the reaction was already far too grand.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I looked around, then lightly patted Edward's back.
"Is this the city you mentioned?"
Woooong.
Edward answered with a low, gentle cry.
The sound set the harbor crowd murmuring again.
"The divine beast has answered Mother's words."
"That great whale has brought Mother to us."
"We must raise an altar for the whale at once."
"Prepare food. Bring every finest fish."
"At that size, even one warehouse won't be enough."
"Offer every fish in the harbor!"
Edward's body flinched.
I felt her bewilderment through the sea and smiled softly.
"It's fine. She says she's not hungry."
Woooong.
Edward agreed firmly.
But the people seemed to take the exchange in yet another light.
"Mother hears the divine beast's heart directly."
"Truly the Mother of all sea life."
"What are the record-keepers doing? Write down every single word."
Already on one side of the pier several people were hauling over desks and chairs.
Record-keepers with quill pens swiftly noted everything from my yawn to Edward's cry.
I watched the scene for a moment, then slowly rose on Edward's back.
Silver hair cascaded over my shoulders and down my waist, spreading wide; some strands trailed along Edward's back all the way into the seawater.
When the sunlight caught it and made it shimmer with blue light, another wave of gasps rose from the crowd.
I pressed lightly on Edward's back with my toes.
"I'm getting down."
Worried I might fall, Edward eased her body a little closer to the pier.
But the harbor was growing shallower; her enormous form looked ready to touch bottom.
"You can stay there."
I stroked her back, then stepped toward the sea.
Just before my bare feet touched the surface, clear seawater rose in a gentle curve and cradled them softly.
With the next step the water ahead swelled again like a stair.
Each time I advanced toward the shore, blue ripples spread beneath my feet, and the small fish swimming nearby gathered under my silver hair and moved with me.
"The sea is making a path."
"Mother is walking upon the water."
"Clear the way at once!"
The soldiers moved in haste.
People were already standing far enough back, yet no one wanted even the slightest chance of blocking my path.
Fishermen cleared nets and baskets from the sand; merchants began shifting entire tents.
Carts loaded with goods were pushed into alleys along with their horses, and soldiers personally picked up every last rope that had fallen to the ground.
Even while I was still walking on the water, a wide empty path opened down the middle of the beach.
Yet the moment people stepped aside, another group came rushing forward.
Priests carrying blue silk.
Attendants holding large parasols.
Merchants bearing silver trays of water and fruit.
Even a noble holding jeweled shoes in both hands.
They did not shove one another, but their eyes warred fiercely over who would serve me first.
"Mother, please tread upon this silk."
"Rough sand must not touch your noble feet."
"We have prepared sacred seawater. Allow us to wash your feet."
"The sun is strong—come this way."
"A carriage is ready."
"A palanquin will be more comfortable."
"We have emptied the finest inn in the harbor for you."
"The City Lord's mansion can be offered at any time."
"We shall prepare the temple's deepest sanctuary as Mother's quarters."
They tried not to raise their voices, yet their eagerness to get even one more word through was painfully clear.
I walked until the water grew shallow and set my feet on the wet sand.
The sand pressed softly beneath my soles.
It was a sensation I had never felt before.
A little cool, a little ticklish, with fine grains seeping between my toes—strangely delightful.
I stopped and lightly scraped the sand with my toes.
A small furrow formed, and shallow seawater flowed into it.
"Fun."
The instant the word left me, the priests holding the silk froze.
They had meant to keep the rough sand from my feet, yet seeing that I liked the sand itself left them unsure what to do.
The elderly priest at the front quickly raised a hand.
"Put away the silk."
The priests hastily folded the blue cloth.
Then the harbor overseer who managed the beach stepped forward and bowed.
"I shall keep the sand of this whole area clean and smooth every day."
"I will sift out every shell fragment and sharp stone."
"No. I like it just as it is."
At my answer the overseer's eyes wavered widely.
He soon bowed deeply and repeated my words.
"I shall take it as a teaching to love the sea as it is."
I could say nothing.
I had only said I liked the sand, and already a teaching had been completed.
As I walked on, attendants followed with large parasols.
Three layers of shade soon overlapped above my head.
One blocked the sun; another tried to block the sea breeze; a third, worried that blocking the breeze might make me hot, began fanning me.
On my left a merchant with a silver tray offered fruit; on my right a cook waited with a plate of freshly grilled fish.
A little farther off a baker held a huge basket of bread high over his head.
"Are you not hungry?"
"Are you thirsty?"
"If walking is inconvenient, we will bring a palanquin at once."
"May we put shoes on you?"
"You will need maids to support your hair as well."
Indeed several maids trailed behind me, carefully trying to cradle the silver hair that dragged across the sand with both hands.
Yet unsure whether they were allowed to touch it, they walked awkwardly with their palms hovering beneath the strands.
I turned my head to look at them and gave a small snort of laughter.
"It's fine. I just want to walk."
At that single sentence every movement stopped.
The attendants kept the parasols raised while eyeing one another; the palanquin bearers stood flustered, not knowing where to set the chairs they had brought.
The elderly priest stepped forward at once.
"Mother desires a stroll."
People began moving quickly again.
Soldiers lined the beach to keep others from approaching; overseers checked the path ahead for anything dangerous.
Attendants kept a respectful distance, following with parasols, water, food, and chairs.
Someone carried a soft chair in case I suddenly wanted to rest; someone else hugged dozens of soft cloths in case my feet got wet and needed drying.
Even the citizens watching from afar did not stay still.
A flower seller chose the most beautiful blooms and laid them on the ground; fishermen offered the largest of the morning's catch.
Children holding their parents' hands held out small shells or shiny stones whenever I passed close.
"Mother, please take this too."
A little girl carefully offered a pink seashell no bigger than a fingernail.
Her mother behind her went deathly pale at the child's boldness, yet could not bring herself to yank the girl back once she had already come before me.
I crouched in front of the child and accepted the shell.
"Pretty."
The girl's face lit up brightly.
"I found it this morning."
"Did you? Thank you."
When I tucked the shell into my silver hair, a collective intake of breath rose all around.
The child's mother sank to the ground covering her face with both hands, while several priests, faces full of emotion, called out to the record-keepers.
"Mother has personally worn the gift offered by a child of the sea."
"Record that child's name."
"The family name must be kept as well."
"This day must be made a holy day."
I started walking again.
Behind me people crowded around the child's family, begging for blessings.
The path along the beach grew busier and busier.
No one blocked my way, yet everyone bustled to stay within my sight.
Musicians came running from somewhere with instruments and began quiet playing; people with flowers scattered petals a few steps ahead of where I walked.
Soldiers on the walls raised their spears in salute; every ship in the harbor lowered its sails and raised flags at once.
Sailors knelt on the decks and waved their caps toward me.
"Lots of people."
When I muttered that, the elderly priest walking beside me bowed deeply at the waist.
"Those who wish to see Mother even once keep gathering without end."
"What about everyone's work?"
"What work could be more precious than this?"
"I'm just taking a walk."
"To attend the places Mother's steps touch is our greatest honor."
His face did not look as though he were joking.
When I glanced back, hundreds of people were indeed following me with earnest expressions.
If I turned my head toward the sea, everyone looked at the sea; if I gazed down at a shell on the sand, several people examined the same spot.
If I merely slowed my steps, chairs, water, food, and shade immediately drew closer.
It was a little overwhelming.
Yet it did not feel bad.
People seemed less driven by fear than delighted, as though welcoming a long-awaited guest.
The way they brought out the best of whatever they had, not knowing what I might like, was even a little cute.
I walked to where the waves rolled in and dipped my feet in the water.
Cool seawater wrapped around my ankles and passed by.
A little farther out, Edward moved parallel to the shore, following me.
She watched this way with her great eyes, ready to offer her back the moment I said I wanted to return.
I waved to Edward.
"I'll walk a bit more, then go."
Woooong.
Edward's answer rolled across the sea.
At the sound people stirred again with faces full of emotion.
I brushed my wind-tossed silver hair aside with one hand and walked slowly along the beach.
Warm sunlight, the salty breeze, sand tickling my toes, waves wetting my ankles—every sensation was new.
Behind me countless people still strove to serve me from the closest possible place, carrying chairs and food, parasols and flowers.
Their murmuring did not stop for a long while.
"Mother looked that way."
"Widen the shade a little more."
"Sprinkle water so the fruit does not dry."
"Check again that nothing sharp is on the sand."
"Is the music too loud?"
"Play a little softer."
Some fretted that I might be uncomfortable; some fretted that I might grow bored; still others hoped I would like what they had prepared.
Listening to all of it, I smiled softly.
I had expected a quiet stroll, yet it had turned into a far livelier walk than I imagined.
Still, it was fine.
The first people I met after descending to this world were a little excessive, far too diligent, and desperate to serve me somehow.
Watching even that was entertaining in its own way.
"A walk... this is nice."
When I murmured contentedly, the faces of everyone following brightened all at once.
And that day,
every record in the city was inscribed in the largest, most splendid letters with the sentence that the Mother of the Sea had walked their beach and found it pleasing.