Correction: A Foxglove short story, written to establish the character of Ginrei Yamako quite a while ago. Go on, then. Rip it to pieces. I wrote it quite a while ago, and I already know some of the mistakes I made...
For the record, 'Taki' is Shigure. His name was changed when he came 'of age'. In red are just some little comments I felt necessary.
And that's where I ended it. *shrug*
For the record, 'Taki' is Shigure. His name was changed when he came 'of age'. In red are just some little comments I felt necessary.
Quote:
The garden was drenched with pink that spring, the cherry blossom trees seeming close to collapse with their loads of blossom. Beneath them gathered the family, reclining laxly on cushions and mats while some of the younger members did their best to recreate a tea ceremony, rather inefficiently. For this reason, few of the adults were paying attention and were instead chatting amongst themselves or watching the other people in the garden.
One pair was attracting particular attention from the calm brown eyes of the family; a very young boy and one of the Yamako’s brightest sons. They were Fubuki, son of the head of the family, and Taki Kako, the child of one of the peasants from nearby. Both were kitsune – Fubuki was about a century old, being considered a full adult now, but Taki was only six. Fubuki had run into him in the Kakos’ lands, given to them by his father as a gift of good will, and found the boy following him around. The child’s devotion to his new friend was extraordinary, and every time he looked up at him it melted Fubuki’s heart.
And so he had invited Taki along to the family’s flower viewing, much to the disapproval of the rest of the family. Taki was not only several social classes below them, he was also of the Kako family, who had been officially declared many steps down on the kitsune hierarchy by their goddess herself. But the family head had – predictably – stood up for his son and allowed Taki to come along after all. They had found the boy to be quite charming thus far, if a little blunt, and tolerated him for the moment.
“See?” Fubuki was saying, holding Taki’s hand while he pointed up at the flowers, standing some way away from the rest of the family, “Shidarezakura, yaezakura, and my favourite, yamazakura. We have all sorts of types here.”
Taki’s eyes sparkled with wonderment. (Wonderment? What was I thinking?)
“Whoa, they’re all so pretty!”
One pair of the eyes was watching them with particular intensity. These belonged to Ginrei Yamako, Fubuki’s uncle. This made him the brother of the head of the family, Hyoga, a position that he loathed. He made this very clear to all those around him – he hated his brother, he hated his position as fourth in line, he hated his beautiful sister-in-law and he hated Fubuki. One thing he didn’t make terribly clear, however, was his hatred of his brother’s nonchalant disregard of the class system. Hyoga had been especially charitable to the Kakos during his time in power, giving away land, food and goods to their cause. In Ginrei’s mind, that land, food and goods belonged to the Yamakos, and they shouldn’t have to share it with people who were too lazy to get it themselves.
In this way it made sense that Ginrei’s stare was especially concentrated and fixed on young Taki with a glint of malevolence. But none of that could be shown here – Hyoga was only a few feet away and his wife, Kansetsu, was even closer. Ginrei knew that Kansetsu knew that he was up to something. They would often pass each other in the corridors of their grand old house, and he’d be treated to one of those most horrible glares of hers. Oh, how savage the mother fox can become when she feels her children are in danger! But Ginrei had no interests in Fubuki… so, no hostility here. His motives were masked with a cool smile and a curtain of smoke, curling up from the pipe sticking from his lips.
He removed it slowly and blew a smoke ring, watching the gentle white circle floating up into the cherry blossoms.
“Sugoi na!” (For those not indoctrinated by Japanese culture, this is 'Amazing!')
Ginrei’s gaze slipped around to fix on the child again. Taki’s eyes were sparkling in amazement, and Fubuki had started laughing.
“Oh, he likes your smoke rings, ojisan! Blow another one, will you?”
Ginrei wrinkled his nose at this, instead tapping the ash out of his pipe.
“I wasn’t aware that young children were so easily impressed,” he mused, and then smiled at Fubuki, “Then again, he does idolise you.”
He sighed softly, looking down at Taki. The boy seemed to be waiting for him to blow another smoke ring, even though it was clear that Ginrei had no intentions of doing so. This little one had hope in him still, then. Ginrei was pretty sure he’d never really had any hope, just motivation, even at that age.
“Do you know, young one, why some cherry blossoms are pink and some are white?” he asked eventually, glancing up at the flowers.
Taki shook his head energetically.
“Do you want to know?”
Kansetsu looked up from the book she had been reading and gave Ginrei a stern look.
“Stop teasing him, Rei,” she scolded, and Ginrei smiled innocently.
“I wasn’t teasing him. I was merely arousing his interest.” He looked back down at Taki, his face smug and horrible. “Since you obviously want to know and my brother’s old woman here obviously wants me to tell you, I will.”
He nodded his head towards the tree with the pinkest flowers in the garden, verging on red. Taki followed his gaze and stared up at it in fascination.
“All cherry blossoms start out as white as clouds, young Kako-san. And then they slowly, as the years go by, go pinker and pinker until they’re red.”
“Oh…”
Ginrei smiled at this response, knowing what would come next.
“Some people say that it just happens like that, but they’re telling lies, you see. What really happens is that the flowers go red because there is blood in them.”
Taki shrunk back against Fubuki, sucking on several of his fingers to calm his fear. Fubuki glared at Ginrei in annoyance, frustrated that his relative could be such a trouble maker, but didn’t say any word in edge-wise.
“And do you know why they have blood in them?” continued Ginrei, smiling wider. Taki shook his head again, this time a lot less enthusiastically.
“Because there are bodies under them, that is why, little Kako-san!”
“Ginrei!” snapped Kansetsu, sitting up straight. “Don’t scare the boy!”
“It’s a cultural education, shimai! It’s not hurting him!” insisted Ginrei before turning back to Taki. “You see, sometimes when someone is murdered or dies in some other way, they are laid on the ground beneath the cherry trees, because it looks so pretty to see them covered with flowers rather than just rotting away! And the cherry tree covers them all up with its petals so that no one can see, and then reaches up with its roots,” he mimed this with his hands, grabbing an imaginary corpse above him, “and pulls it down, down below the ground! It wraps itself around the dead person and holds him like a child, and squeezes so hard that his blood comes out into the ground! And the blood is soaked up into the roots and gathers in the petals so that everyone will know that the tree has someone underneath it! And the redder the petals are, the more it squeezes!”
Taki let out a yelp of fear as a petal landed on his head from one of the overhanging trees and hid behind Fubuki. Ginrei couldn’t resist pushing it just a little further.
“And sometimes, if the tree is too lonely, it will reach up…” he extended his arms towards Taki, grinning like a demon, “and grab someone who’s not even dead yet!”
Taki clung to Fubuki’s kimono and circled around, trying to escape from the trees in the garden. But alas, he was surrounded! Finally giving up, he crouched on the ground near Fubuki’s feet and cried as his older friend knelt down to hold and comfort him. Ginrei continued to smile, his teeth shining like daggers.
“I think some of these trees are a little lonely, don’t you, Kansetsu?” he asked casually, and she snarled at him furiously before getting up to help Fubuki and his sobbing charge.
“Ojisan! That was cruel!” snapped Fubuki, letting Taki cling to him with a grip of cold terror, “Tell him it’s not true!”
“Whether it’s true or not isn’t the point,” reflected Ginrei calmly, “The point is that it is said, and that’s all he needs to know.”
He leaned back on one of the mats, pleased with himself, but jumped when he heard a voice bark his name. Hyoga had appeared from the other side of the party, his expression such a reflection of disgust that he could have set it in stone by just looking at a granite block.
“Ginrei! What have you done to this boy?” he demanded, clearly furious, but Ginrei was not fazed at all.
“Why, I have just been imparting onto him some old wisdom.”
“What sort of wisdom?”
Fubuki looked up from the still-shaking Taki, breaking into new fits of tears every time he glanced at the pink mass of cherry blossom, and gave Ginrei a horrible frown.
“He told the cherry blossom story, father,” he said, and Hyoga suddenly took on a look of alarm.
Racing to the Fubuki’s side he scooped Taki up in his strong arms, holding the boy so that he could bury his face in his chest and soft white hair. Ginrei watched him and loathed him further. It wasn’t enough to pamper his own son – he had to win over other people’s as well?
“By the Lady, Ginrei! This boy has a phobia of death and you just go and tell him that all these beautiful trees have people buried under them, and he could be next?”
“Well, I didn’t know he had a phobia of death,” sulked Ginrei, relighting his pipe.
Hyoga wheeled around, turning on him viciously.
“Then perhaps you should take the time to find out! You may have scarred the poor child for life, Ginrei! For certain, you’ve taken away one the beauty of one of our most romantic symbols, and just so that you could laugh at him!”
One pair was attracting particular attention from the calm brown eyes of the family; a very young boy and one of the Yamako’s brightest sons. They were Fubuki, son of the head of the family, and Taki Kako, the child of one of the peasants from nearby. Both were kitsune – Fubuki was about a century old, being considered a full adult now, but Taki was only six. Fubuki had run into him in the Kakos’ lands, given to them by his father as a gift of good will, and found the boy following him around. The child’s devotion to his new friend was extraordinary, and every time he looked up at him it melted Fubuki’s heart.
And so he had invited Taki along to the family’s flower viewing, much to the disapproval of the rest of the family. Taki was not only several social classes below them, he was also of the Kako family, who had been officially declared many steps down on the kitsune hierarchy by their goddess herself. But the family head had – predictably – stood up for his son and allowed Taki to come along after all. They had found the boy to be quite charming thus far, if a little blunt, and tolerated him for the moment.
“See?” Fubuki was saying, holding Taki’s hand while he pointed up at the flowers, standing some way away from the rest of the family, “Shidarezakura, yaezakura, and my favourite, yamazakura. We have all sorts of types here.”
Taki’s eyes sparkled with wonderment. (Wonderment? What was I thinking?)
“Whoa, they’re all so pretty!”
One pair of the eyes was watching them with particular intensity. These belonged to Ginrei Yamako, Fubuki’s uncle. This made him the brother of the head of the family, Hyoga, a position that he loathed. He made this very clear to all those around him – he hated his brother, he hated his position as fourth in line, he hated his beautiful sister-in-law and he hated Fubuki. One thing he didn’t make terribly clear, however, was his hatred of his brother’s nonchalant disregard of the class system. Hyoga had been especially charitable to the Kakos during his time in power, giving away land, food and goods to their cause. In Ginrei’s mind, that land, food and goods belonged to the Yamakos, and they shouldn’t have to share it with people who were too lazy to get it themselves.
In this way it made sense that Ginrei’s stare was especially concentrated and fixed on young Taki with a glint of malevolence. But none of that could be shown here – Hyoga was only a few feet away and his wife, Kansetsu, was even closer. Ginrei knew that Kansetsu knew that he was up to something. They would often pass each other in the corridors of their grand old house, and he’d be treated to one of those most horrible glares of hers. Oh, how savage the mother fox can become when she feels her children are in danger! But Ginrei had no interests in Fubuki… so, no hostility here. His motives were masked with a cool smile and a curtain of smoke, curling up from the pipe sticking from his lips.
He removed it slowly and blew a smoke ring, watching the gentle white circle floating up into the cherry blossoms.
“Sugoi na!” (For those not indoctrinated by Japanese culture, this is 'Amazing!')
Ginrei’s gaze slipped around to fix on the child again. Taki’s eyes were sparkling in amazement, and Fubuki had started laughing.
“Oh, he likes your smoke rings, ojisan! Blow another one, will you?”
Ginrei wrinkled his nose at this, instead tapping the ash out of his pipe.
“I wasn’t aware that young children were so easily impressed,” he mused, and then smiled at Fubuki, “Then again, he does idolise you.”
He sighed softly, looking down at Taki. The boy seemed to be waiting for him to blow another smoke ring, even though it was clear that Ginrei had no intentions of doing so. This little one had hope in him still, then. Ginrei was pretty sure he’d never really had any hope, just motivation, even at that age.
“Do you know, young one, why some cherry blossoms are pink and some are white?” he asked eventually, glancing up at the flowers.
Taki shook his head energetically.
“Do you want to know?”
Kansetsu looked up from the book she had been reading and gave Ginrei a stern look.
“Stop teasing him, Rei,” she scolded, and Ginrei smiled innocently.
“I wasn’t teasing him. I was merely arousing his interest.” He looked back down at Taki, his face smug and horrible. “Since you obviously want to know and my brother’s old woman here obviously wants me to tell you, I will.”
He nodded his head towards the tree with the pinkest flowers in the garden, verging on red. Taki followed his gaze and stared up at it in fascination.
“All cherry blossoms start out as white as clouds, young Kako-san. And then they slowly, as the years go by, go pinker and pinker until they’re red.”
“Oh…”
Ginrei smiled at this response, knowing what would come next.
“Some people say that it just happens like that, but they’re telling lies, you see. What really happens is that the flowers go red because there is blood in them.”
Taki shrunk back against Fubuki, sucking on several of his fingers to calm his fear. Fubuki glared at Ginrei in annoyance, frustrated that his relative could be such a trouble maker, but didn’t say any word in edge-wise.
“And do you know why they have blood in them?” continued Ginrei, smiling wider. Taki shook his head again, this time a lot less enthusiastically.
“Because there are bodies under them, that is why, little Kako-san!”
“Ginrei!” snapped Kansetsu, sitting up straight. “Don’t scare the boy!”
“It’s a cultural education, shimai! It’s not hurting him!” insisted Ginrei before turning back to Taki. “You see, sometimes when someone is murdered or dies in some other way, they are laid on the ground beneath the cherry trees, because it looks so pretty to see them covered with flowers rather than just rotting away! And the cherry tree covers them all up with its petals so that no one can see, and then reaches up with its roots,” he mimed this with his hands, grabbing an imaginary corpse above him, “and pulls it down, down below the ground! It wraps itself around the dead person and holds him like a child, and squeezes so hard that his blood comes out into the ground! And the blood is soaked up into the roots and gathers in the petals so that everyone will know that the tree has someone underneath it! And the redder the petals are, the more it squeezes!”
Taki let out a yelp of fear as a petal landed on his head from one of the overhanging trees and hid behind Fubuki. Ginrei couldn’t resist pushing it just a little further.
“And sometimes, if the tree is too lonely, it will reach up…” he extended his arms towards Taki, grinning like a demon, “and grab someone who’s not even dead yet!”
Taki clung to Fubuki’s kimono and circled around, trying to escape from the trees in the garden. But alas, he was surrounded! Finally giving up, he crouched on the ground near Fubuki’s feet and cried as his older friend knelt down to hold and comfort him. Ginrei continued to smile, his teeth shining like daggers.
“I think some of these trees are a little lonely, don’t you, Kansetsu?” he asked casually, and she snarled at him furiously before getting up to help Fubuki and his sobbing charge.
“Ojisan! That was cruel!” snapped Fubuki, letting Taki cling to him with a grip of cold terror, “Tell him it’s not true!”
“Whether it’s true or not isn’t the point,” reflected Ginrei calmly, “The point is that it is said, and that’s all he needs to know.”
He leaned back on one of the mats, pleased with himself, but jumped when he heard a voice bark his name. Hyoga had appeared from the other side of the party, his expression such a reflection of disgust that he could have set it in stone by just looking at a granite block.
“Ginrei! What have you done to this boy?” he demanded, clearly furious, but Ginrei was not fazed at all.
“Why, I have just been imparting onto him some old wisdom.”
“What sort of wisdom?”
Fubuki looked up from the still-shaking Taki, breaking into new fits of tears every time he glanced at the pink mass of cherry blossom, and gave Ginrei a horrible frown.
“He told the cherry blossom story, father,” he said, and Hyoga suddenly took on a look of alarm.
Racing to the Fubuki’s side he scooped Taki up in his strong arms, holding the boy so that he could bury his face in his chest and soft white hair. Ginrei watched him and loathed him further. It wasn’t enough to pamper his own son – he had to win over other people’s as well?
“By the Lady, Ginrei! This boy has a phobia of death and you just go and tell him that all these beautiful trees have people buried under them, and he could be next?”
“Well, I didn’t know he had a phobia of death,” sulked Ginrei, relighting his pipe.
Hyoga wheeled around, turning on him viciously.
“Then perhaps you should take the time to find out! You may have scarred the poor child for life, Ginrei! For certain, you’ve taken away one the beauty of one of our most romantic symbols, and just so that you could laugh at him!”
And that's where I ended it. *shrug*
