Translator: Dj2203
Editor: Dj2203
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“It took quite a while…”
It took me at least 30 minutes to get there from the road I started on. The road I’m on now is wider than the one I was on before. There’s a straight line there, about the same thickness as a moped tire, connected to the road, that looks like a carriage wheel.
Beyond that was what initially looked like a building: a gate with a watchtower.
The surrounding grasslands gradually turned into fields as I approached the town. The green stalks stretched straight up into the sky like rice plants, and the bases of the stalks were not covered in water, so I realized this was not a rice field but a grain field. I wondered as I walked whether the grains planted there were wheat.
As I approached the gate, I saw that there were fences on either side of the gate, enclosing the inside. A river ran along the outside of the fence. This river probably irrigated the surrounding fields, provided shelter for the townspeople, and acted as a moat to protect the town in times of emergency.
Now, I was finally in front of the gate. Let’s cross the river.
The bridge, made of horizontally placed pieces of wood, was uneven and felt more uncomfortable underfoot than the rough surface.
However, they say that human feet can feel discomfort even over a step of just one centimeter, so it may just be a culture shock specific to me, who is used to smooth asphalt surfaces.
Two men were standing in front of the gate.
I wondered if they were gatekeepers or guards. Both of them were carrying something like a spear. If you got stabbed with this, you’ll die… And their clothes… I can’t tell you the color, but they were plain clothes that I couldn’t tell if they’re made of undyed cotton or linen, and they were wearing breastplates, gauntlets, and pads. Were they armed gatekeepers? But I’m unarmed, and I don’t have anything that could be used as a weapon… so I couldn’t help but feel nervous.
However, if I were to turn my back and go back at this point, I might be suspected and arrested.
Feeling nervous, I took a few steps towards the gate, and the tanned, middle-aged gatekeeper raised his hand and greeted me with a “Hello.”
Their clothes were light brown, or rather, they were colorless. They both looked the same, so I guessed the clothes around here were simple and not very designer.
“Did it rain? It’s getting quite humid around here, which is unusual. It must have been very hot and difficult to walk.”
They say it’s good to talk about the weather when you first meet someone, and it’s true. I was nervous seeing someone with a weapon I have no connection with, but this helped me ease that tension a little.
“Hello”
My mind had stabilized enough to reply.
….
We could communicate in Japanese. Both I and the other person spoke Japanese. Why? Is this Japan?
However, no matter how I looked at it, the person in front of me looked like a foreigner. The other gatekeeper was young, and similarly, he did not have the typical Japanese features.
“Luckily, it didn’t rain. It was just a coincidence. It’s muggy, but I think it’s manageable.”
I grew up in the humid heat of Japan, so I’m used to it, but it seems that’s not the case around here. What was more difficult was walking on unfamiliar dirt roads, sometimes using my umbrella as a walking stick.
“That’s unusual, I’ve never seen clothes like that before. Where are you from?”
The younger gatekeeper noticed my outfit and called out to me.
Indeed, they were speaking Japanese, but their mouth movements were off. It was as if the subtitles had been created by a poor movie translator. The meaning was clear, but it seemed as if the words didn’t match the mouth movements… I gradually began to calm down, understanding the true nature of the slight discomfort I had felt while talking to them.
But for now, let’s put aside the question of why they can speak Japanese. The important thing is that we can communicate now.
“This is a product I handle… but I lost it along the way. The only clothes left are the ones I’m wearing now.”
“I see, so you’re a traveling merchant or peddler dealing in clothing.”
The young guard nodded and looked at the middle-aged guard. He must have understood to some extent. It was good that I had anticipated the questions that might come up when I got here and prepared some answers.
“Okay, it looks like there won’t be any problems, but please don’t cause any trouble. Well then, I’ll get straight to it. I’m sure you’ll understand as a merchant, but it’ll cost 10 cupronickel coins as pass fee.”
Pass fee… I guess that’s the entrance fee or tax to pay when passing through the gate (barrier) leading to the town. Ten cupronickel coins, ten cupronickel coins… I realized just as I was about to take my wallet out of my back pocket to take out the money.
Hmm? What’s the currency here?
I understand Japanese, but is it okay to pay in Japanese yen?
If I were to hand over a Japanese coin, wouldn’t they say I used counterfeit money? I wouldn’t be arrested for using counterfeit money, would I? Apparently using counterfeit money is a serious crime in every country, so I wonder if I’ve messed up.
I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to pay or not, and the coin I was about to grab to pay slipped through my fingertips. In my haste to grab it again, I accidentally spilled several coins from my wallet. One of them started rolling around. Of all things, it was a 500 yen coin! I couldn’t let it go to waste!
At that moment, something strange happened.
The 500 yen coin that started to roll out of the wallet became a size larger, and the engraving disappeared, turning it into a plain coin.
Not only that, the same thing was happening to the other coins.
“Ah!”
The middle-aged gatekeeper stopped the coin from rolling away, and I quickly picked up the other coins.
“Wow, something rare has come up. I never expected that.”
The middle-aged gatekeeper looked at the “former 500 yen coin” he picked up and smiled.
“Thomas! Do you know this? This is the Great White. They made a lot of them when I was a kid. Even you, young as you are, should know that it costs five copper plates.”
“This is the large cupronickel coin… It’s the first time I’ve seen one.”
The younger gatekeeper, called Thomas, looked at the coin with fresh amazement.
“That’s right! That’s right! I haven’t seen it in ten years, maybe fifteen. You’re in luck, take this opportunity to admire it.”
The middle-aged gatekeeper was recounting a story to the young man, as if he were reminiscing about a treasured childhood possession.
Among the coins I found was another original 500 yen coin, so I handed the two to the gatekeeper as the 10 cupronickel coins to cover the customs fee.
The story of the middle-aged gatekeeper who was nostalgic for the large cupronickel coin was based on the image of someone in their mid-forties who was nostalgic for the 500 yen note.
The author has something to say:
I wrote this article because I thought that the change from “banknotes” to “coins” for the same 500 yen denomination was due to the fact that the value of 500 yen had previously been such a high amount that it required the use of “paper money,” but that it encouraged the people of the time to draw a kind of psychological line between “banknotes” for anything over four digits (“1,000 yen”) and “coins (small change) for anything under three digits,” and that the drastic fluctuations in prices from a few years before the change to that time may have led to some changes in the structure of Japan’s monetary system up to that time.
We haven’t had a chance to use the half-price bread yet, but it will be available at the next meeting. Everyone, please wait a little longer.
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