On the island of Mizushima, no one doubted the existence of the goddess Arahime.
Not because they believed by faith, but because she had already been seen.
Arahime was not merely an ancient story repeated through generations. She appeared. Not often, not constantly, but always at the same interval of time. Every hundred years, the goddess emerged before the island. And those who were alive at that time never forgot.
There were people who had seen Arahime with their own eyes. Men and women who, now elderly, told how the air had changed on that day. How the wind had stopped for an instant. How the sea had grown too still. They did not speak with fear, but with reverence.
They would say:
— She is real.
And no one questioned it.
These people always described Arahime in the same way. Not as a distant or monstrous figure, but as someone of a beauty impossible to ignore. A beauty that did not need exaggeration to be understood. It was enough to listen. It was enough to imagine.
It was said that her eyes resembled the sea on a calm day. That her presence made the body forget the weight of time. That, upon seeing her, it was difficult to think of anything else. It was not merely appearance. It was something that was felt.
Portraits had been made.
Some simple, others more detailed, carefully kept in old houses, in community halls, and in the temple. No portrait was considered perfect, but all of them helped keep the memory of the goddess alive. Children grew up seeing those images, hearing the stories, learning from an early age that Arahime was not only beautiful — she was real.
And that changed everything.
Mizushima was a large island, made up of several communities spread among hills, forests, and stretches of coastline. Some villages lay close to the harbor, others were distant and nearly silent. Not everyone knew one another, not everyone spoke to one another, but everyone shared the same feeling when the name Arahime was mentioned.
Gratitude.
For a very long time, it had been said that the island only existed in that way because of her.
There were no great natural disasters. Storms rarely destroyed houses. The sea, even when strong, respected the boats. Harvests were plentiful in most years. Serious diseases almost never reached the island. When they did, they did not spread.
People knew this because they compared.
Visitors told stories of lands destroyed by floods, long droughts, epidemics. Mizushima listened in silence, like someone hearing something too distant to belong to their own reality. And when those stories ended, someone would always say, naturally:
— Arahime protects us.
The goddess's protection was not seen as something abstract. It was concrete. Visible in daily life. Felt in small things. And it lasted exactly one hundred years.
That was another truth everyone knew.
After Arahime appeared and took a man as her husband, the island entered a long period of safety. One hundred years of tranquility. One hundred years without great tragedies. One hundred years in which people could live without the constant fear of the worst.
That was why the tradition existed.
That was why no one questioned it.
Every hundred years, Arahime chose a man from the island to be her husband.
This choice was not sudden. It was not a sudden disappearance. Before that, the man went through a long period called purification. A time of preparation that began years before the final union.
During purification, the man still lived among the people, but his life began to change. Small rituals. Frequent visits to the temple. A slow withdrawal from ordinary routine. Nothing violent. Nothing forced. Everything was done with care, as if it were necessary to prepare not only the body, but the heart.
It was said that, at the end of this period, the man would be ready to live beside the goddess.
As her husband.
For one hundred years.
This part of the story was told with care, but also with fascination.
From a young age, the boys of Mizushima grew up hearing that if they were chosen, they would live one hundred years beside the most beautiful woman in existence. One hundred years outside ordinary life. One hundred years without aging like the others. One hundred years protecting the island alongside her.
Death came afterward.
Always afterward.
And for many, it seemed far too distant to matter.
Thus, desire was born early.
Not as fear.
Not as obligation.
But as a dream.
The boys saw the portraits of Arahime. They heard about her voice, her gaze, her presence. Some laughed, others pretended not to care. But all of them knew that if they were ever chosen, they would not be seen as victims. They would be seen as men who had lived something unique.
Men desired by the goddess.
And the women grew up knowing this as well.
They knew that the island's protection depended on that ritual. They knew that for one hundred years, their homes would be safe. Their children would grow up without knowing great tragedies. Their harvests would not fail. The fear of losing everything at once was not part of life in Mizushima.
Because of this, when a married man entered the period of purification, there was no open revolt.
There was pain.
There was silence.
But there was understanding.
Wives were not seen as abandoned women. On the contrary. The island drew closer to them. Offered help, support, companionship. They were treated with respect, because everyone knew they were paying a high price.
A price that protected everyone.
It was said that the sacrifice was not only the man's. It was the entire family's. But it was also said that, because of this, no other family would need to suffer great losses for one hundred years.
This idea was repeated so many times that it became truth.
Children grew up hearing that their fathers had done something great. Something necessary. Something that had kept Mizushima safe. Pain, when it appeared, was wrapped in beautiful words, ancient stories, and the certainty that it had not been in vain.
Thus, suffering gained meaning.
And meaning made suffering acceptable.
When the cycle of one hundred years began to draw near, the island changed.
Conversations grew quieter. Nights more silent. People walked more carefully. Not out of fear, but out of respect. Because they knew that Arahime was close to appearing once again.
And when she appeared, no one doubted.
The entire island remembered.
Protection began anew.
And life moved on.
That was how it had always been.
And because it had always worked, no one saw a reason to change it.
In Mizushima, it had been learned that certain questions should not be asked. To question meant to put at risk something that protected everyone. And things that protect life are not easily challenged.
Thus, generation after generation, the tradition remained alive.
Not only through faith.
But through proof.
Mizushima remained safe.
Arahime continued to be worshiped.
And silence… kept everything in its place.