Member
mickilennial
Mao Mao
Asura
LG
Master EffeX
Half Pint
Lemons
Sep
Eviledd1984
AlteredTundra
Sunlight climbed over the western mountains in the wee hours of the morning. Creatures like monkeys crossed with dogs scurried forth from the crags to scream with the rising sun, their voices a horrific noise that might be mistaken for a human's cry if not for a certain, monstrous quality to it. The light pressed on passed the mountains, dipping down to reach for the Mumbling Wood with a tentative touch. Its rays bounced off the frost-covered canopy of the forest, frozen after last night's rain. Trees gave lazy groans of greeting to one another as they shook awake. Spirits crept out from their holes and hovels to bask in the sun's presence, appreciating its much needed yet fragile warmth; these last days of winter had dragged on for far too long for their liking, and the Yokai were getting restless. As the sun crawled into windows and peaked through door frames, it wouldn't be long before the folk of Heiseina came creeping from their own homes as well. Its journey would end in Kama's Lake, where its twin descended into the reflective water to shine just as bright as the one in the sky above.
Within the sleepy village figures begin to appear. An old man, eyes still heavy and red, steps outside his door with a giant sack in his hands. Reaching within he produces a handful of roasted soybeans, tossing them out into the street in front of his house. A neighbor on the opposite side of the road chucks them from the safety of her window; perhaps never even leaving her bed at all. Just about everyone would join them soon enough- those with the common sense to understand the Yokai and the bad fortune they can bring down on the disrespectful.
"eight weeks," the old man grumbles, his voice like the rasp of rocks grinding against rocks, "eight more weeks of winter! Salt the shimmer, I told Takamori- told him that girl was no good."
A broom cracked him over the shoulder, causing him to shout in a mix of pain and surprise. His wife lowered it to the ground, still rubbing the sleep from her eye. "Pull the turds outta yer teeth. What if the lady heard ya gobbin' off? If she was willin' to do her own kin in-"
"Balderdash! T'was the hag that did them in. That dumb, poor girl couldn't get a tanuki to scratch its scrotum. We never had long winters when the shrine maiden was around. I remember this one autumn, perhaps twenty years ago, when..."
And on and on they went as Heiseina slowly, gradually dragged itself from its restful sleep and set about preparing for today's festivities. This marked the first day of a week long celebration of winter turning to spring, culminating in the Dance of the Serpent- when Miorochi is meant to awaken and take to the sky, tearing the cold from the air and begin the changing of the seasons. The week would see the village gathering to eat, dance, compete in games and go through all number of religious rituals to bring good fortune on the year to come. Broken relationships would be fixed, old enemies would make amends, and newborns would be blessed at Miorochi's shrine.
In honor of the occasion, all sorts of decorations were strung from roof to roof, up and around poles, or painted along the cobblestones of the road. Papers dragons were a common sight on top of other imagery of life and spring: colorful bundles of flowers were strung together, cornucopias of fruits and vegetables, and most common were the beans. Hundreds upon hundreds of roasted soybeans being scattered, eaten or spread to make crude shapes. Soybeans were thought to drive away the spirits that brought bad luck.
Unlit lanterns hang via strings running from nearby roofs to the radio tower in the town's central square. Inside them are some of the only electric lightbulbs in the entire valley, wired together and tracing down the tower's side and disappearing into a hole carved into the tinkerer's workshop. More unnatural light shines from behind the curtained windows and under the doorway. Keen watchers might have noticed a similar phenomena on their way home for the previous night's rest. It wasn't unheard of for Anayo to work all throughout the night, though never as often as over this last month. Curious, though, is the lack of mechanical whirring or banging.
Near to the shore of Kama's Lake, where the Takamori Estate stands tall and proud, its master meditates in the early morning light. Only one of his students managed to drag herself out here so early, though whether or not she was focused on her inner harmony or struggling to stay awake was yet to be seen. Kenji, despite his age, was as sharp and energized as either of his nephews or his niece. He'd already run the full length of the lake's walking path in the time it took most of the village to drag themselves from their beds. With slow, measured breaths, he took in the morning as he always did.
Yet Fumiko knew the old man well enough to know something was different today. There was an ever so slight tremble in his hands that he was trying and failing to calm. A deep furrow along his brow seemed to form and disperse every fifteen or so seconds, as if he had worries he could not quell. Kenji took a final exhale and let his eyes slide open so he could look to the horizon. Some imperceptible thing clouded his ordinarily cheery gaze, like a grey sky hours before a storm.
"How I wish I could remain in this moment forever." He muttered. His voice was a river, deep and meandering. "Time marches on, however, and there is much to do." He turned his head just so he could catch Fumiko's gaze. "And I'll be delegating a great deal of it to you, Fumiko. I hope you're up for it! Come, walk with me, and we shall talk." Kenji stood, beckoning her to follow him as he began to pace down the manor's steps and into the gardens that surrounded the estate.
"First we must ensure the noon performance is ready. I trust Miss Hayashi is prepared, but it is always best to double check." Kenji lifted a finger, wiggling it a bit- his usual sign to 'note that down' that he gave whenever he was delivering a lesson. "Head over to her abode and ensure everything is ready. Give her any help she needs setting up. She is the opening act of the day, so the tone must be just so. Even the slightest misstep could have disastrous consequences for the rest of the week's mood!" Perfection was impossible, yet always demanded- that was the Takamori code. Yet even as he spoke he seemed...distracted. His vision still clung to western mountains, where the sun rested atop those stony peaks.
Near silent paws patter up old stone steps. They stretch, turn and twist along the hill at the edge of town, passed small shrines covered in offerings, flowers and trinkets of all sorts. Those paws are quiet, yet they're quick-- quick as lightning. They bound up three steps at a time, nearly slipping on wet, broken stone in their hurry to reach the peak.
When the fox finally reached the hill's zenith, where an archway led into the shrine proper, it dropped what was in its mouth and began to make a racket. Its odd yips could almost be mistaken for language, but even as an animal the urgency in its noises could not be mistaken. When the shrine's cartaker finally emerged the creature nudged the object it had carried and dropped to the floor: a scroll case. Kitsune were said to be the messengers of the gods, yet...those were only stories for children. Myths passed down from the ages. In reality they were a bunch of aimless tricksters whose only purpose was to spread mischief...right?
But there was the scroll case. And inside, a message:
