On the western edge of Amencho Town lies “Frog Mountain.” Partway up its slope, among the ruins of an old stone wall, Kopo had been kneading mud since morning.
April 6th. In honor of “Castle Day,” he was trying to build “Kopo Castle” on the mountain path.
“…Alright. I’ll turn this into an impregnable fortress , and when Bipiku’s in trouble, I’ll say ‘Come, to my castle!’ and rescue her. This is guaranteed to get me swooned over…!”
As Kopo’s fantasies expanded, his little brother Minico, beside him, unfolded a newspaper that had just arrived from the city and read aloud.
“Bro, it sounds like the world’s having a rough time again — bridges getting destroyed, castle-like fortresses being built. Peace seems harder to keep than to make.”
At Minico’s words, Kopo’s hands stopped. What he was building was a mud castle that would wash away in the rain. But the word “defense” flowing through the news carried a tone that felt cold and heavy.
“Feh-feh. Kopo, a castle isn’t defined by the height of its stone walls.”
Sonchō, wearing his top hat, appeared from behind. The once-reckless adventurer was staring past the mountain, toward the lake where the Dragon God is enshrined .
“This town has no visible high castle walls. But an ancient promise made with the Dragon God — never to fight — has protected this town for hundreds of years. …The true castle is an invisible barrier of the heart: trusting in someone.”
Just then, Maskman came running down from the mountaintop.
“Sonchō! At the town’s border, a visitor from the city is lost. It seems they came looking for a peaceful view, but they look anxious.”
Sonchō nodded and signaled to the engineer Spice.
Spice pulled a specially made “Wind Bulletin” device from his coverall pocket. It was his own personal peacekeeping device — one that conveyed the town’s safe routes and which flowers were blooming today, using faint radio waves and humming.
“…Raising physical walls is less effective these days than increasing the transparency of information. Fear is born from ignorance .”
From the direction of the plaza , Keromi’s singing voice drifted in on the wind. It wasn’t a hymn meant to quell conflict — just an ordinary, warm song calling out, “Let’s live today together.”
Kopo looked at the half-built mud castle.
Then he tore it down and began remaking it into a flat “rest stop.”
“…I don’t need a castle. A place where a lost person can sit down looks cooler to me now.”
In the sky, Hasshi, resting his wings after carrying news from the city, basked in the spring sunlight alongside the frogs.
(If I wanted to eat them, I could, any time. But I don’t. That’s my own kind of “castle of peace.”)
Amencho Town has no castle walls, no soldiers.
But that very place — where everyone’s clumsiness is accepted — is the most unbreakable “castle of the heart” in the world.
【Today’s Motif: April 6, 2026】
- Castle Day (4/6): A contrast between physical defense (castles) and defense of the heart.
- Newspaper Reading Day: Learning of world affairs (conflict, defense) becomes a chance to redefine one’s own peace.
- Middle East Tensions and Infrastructure Destruction: Against the news of “destruction,” Amencho Town chooses “exchange” and a “rest stop” as its answer.
This is an English translation of “泥の城と、風の号外”, part of Tales of Amencho Town (蛙鳴町奇譚).