Mokichi-Ichizo relationship

Mokichi and Ichizo are two Japanese Christian peasants from the fishing village of Tomogi whose shared martyrdom by water torture becomes the most harrowing ordeal witnessed by the missionary Sebastian Rodrigues, forcing him to confront the silence of God and the unbearable cost of faith in persecution-era Japan. Their deaths, prolonged and public, are not a glorious martyrdom of legend but a miserable, drawn-out agony that strips away all romantic illusion and leaves Rodrigues alone with the monotonous sound of the sea and the unanswered question of why God permits such suffering. Their relationship, forged in shared faith and sealed in a common death, stands as the novel's most concrete embodiment of the peasant Christianity that the missionaries have come to serve and, ultimately, to betray.

Identity and Background

Mokichi is a young man who first appears as one of the Christians who meets Rodrigues and Francisco Garrpe on the night of their arrival at Tomogi. He is described as having an expressionless face, a mask that the long years of secrecy have imposed on the Christians of the village. Ichizo is a man of about fifty who comes at night to the priests' hut and always wears an expression that makes one think he is angry, though in fact this is just his natural look. He is extraordinarily curious, scrutinizing every movement and gesture of the two foreign priests with his narrow, wrinkled eyes. Both men are poor farmers who eke out a living cultivating potatoes and wheat in little fields, paying an exceedingly harsh revenue to the magistrate of Nagasaki. They are part of the secret Christian organization that has kept the faith alive for six years without a priest, with the Jiisama holding the highest post of authority and the Tossama teaching the faithful. Mokichi and Ichizo are among those who have maintained this clandestine structure, and they are the ones who dig a hiding place under the floor of the priests' hut in case of emergency.

Arc Through the Plot

When the officials descend on Tomogi and take the Jiisama as a hostage, the village is thrown into confusion. The authorities return with a new approach, demanding three hostages be sent to Nagasaki. The name of Kichijiro is mentioned first, as he is a stranger to the village and many harbor the feeling that the whole catastrophe has occurred because of him. Kichijiro, from sheer weakness, finally agrees to go. Then Ichizo suddenly speaks up and volunteers to go as well, to the amazement of everyone who knows his silent, stubborn nature. Mokichi then declares that he will join the other two. The three men climb up to the wood where the priests are hiding. Mokichi, head hanging, mumbles the question that haunts them all: if they are ordered to trample on the fumie, what are they to do, since if they do not trample, everyone in the village will be cross-examined. Rodrigues, in a moment of weakness, shouts, "Trample! Trample!" — words he immediately realizes should never have been on his lips. Garrpe looks at him reproachfully. The three men descend the mountain, and Rodrigues and Garrpe watch the figures disappear into the mist, never to see Mokichi and Ichizo again.

At the magistrate's office in Sakuradai, the three are questioned. Following Rodrigues's advice, Kichijiro is the first to place his foot on the fumie, and after him Mokichi and Ichizo do likewise. But the officials notice the expressions on their faces and are not deceived. They are ordered to spit on the crucifix and declare that the Blessed Virgin is a whore. Kichijiro, overcome by threats, gasps out the required blasphemy. But Mokichi and Ichizo cannot do it. A white tear overflows from Mokichi's eye and rolls down his cheek. Ichizo shakes his head as though caught in the throes of pain. Both of them confess openly that they are Christians. They are imprisoned for ten days, while Kichijiro, the apostate, is set free and disappears.

The Water Punishment

On June 22, a procession approaches Tomogi along the rain-blanketed road. Mokichi and Ichizo, their arms bound fast and their heads hanging low, are surrounded by guards. Two trees made into the form of a cross are set at the water's edge, and the two men are fastened to them. When the tide comes in, their bodies will be immersed in the sea up to the chin. They will not die at once, but after two or even three days of utter physical and mental exhaustion they will cease to breathe. The authorities intend this prolonged suffering as a spectacle to deter the villagers from ever again approaching the Christian faith. Omatsu, Ichizo's elder sister, and her niece approach in a small boat. Mokichi refuses the potato she offers, saying he can endure no more, and tells her to give it to Ichizo. The aged Ichizo can make no answer, but the occasional slight movement of his head shows he is still alive. Night comes, and from the darkness the people hear what seems to be the voice of Mokichi, gaspingly singing a Christian hymn: "We're on our way, we're on our way to the temple of Paradise." The next day, the drizzle continues. Mokichi and Ichizo adhere to the stakes in such a way that they become part of them. The only indication that they are still alive is the dark moaning of a voice which sounds like that of Mokichi, a sound like that of an animal. In the afternoon the tide comes in again, and the stakes seem to sink into the water. The white foaming waves swirl past the stakes, and then all is over.

Consequences and Significance

Rodrigues, watching from the mountain hut, is shattered by what he has seen. He had long read about martyrdom in the lives of the saints — the souls of the martyrs going home to Heaven, the angels blowing trumpets. But the martyrdom of Mokichi and Ichizo is no such glorious thing. It is a miserable and painful business, with the rain falling unceasingly on the sea and the sea killing them surging on uncannily in silence. The officials burn the bodies to prevent the Christians from bringing home the remains for veneration, then throw the ashes into the sea. Rodrigues is left with the unbearable sound of the dark sea gnawing at the shore and, behind it, the silence of God. The question that Kichijiro had stammered on the morning of his departure now pierces Rodrigues's breast like a sharp needle: "Why has Deus Sama imposed this suffering upon us?" The silence of God — the fact that for twenty years, while the black soil of Japan has been filled with the lament of so many Christians and the red blood of priests has flowed profusely, God has remained silent — becomes the central problem that Rodrigues can no longer evade. The deaths of Mokichi and Ichizo are not a foundation for the Church but a stone that crushes Rodrigues's spirit, and the memory of their song, "We're on our way to the temple of Paradise," gnaws at his heart as a melody filled with dark sadness, the only hope of people who have found life in this world too painful to bear.