Love of the Wind Spirit

Love of the Wind Spirit
Chapter 2: Entering the Village

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In meditative quiet we passed through the towering trees, following the forest path that wound around boulders mantled with lichen and passing through open meadows dotted with herb and flower. Her hand fiddled with the new yorishiro that she carried, her thoughts no doubt drifting back over our discussion by the water. Every once in a while I could detect a coiling within her being as something that she repressed sought to stretch for a precious moment of freedom. Yet, she always managed to master it back into whatever tiny box within her mind was its prison.

At last, the reclusive mountain village that I had taken under my wing rose before us, nestled here at the base of this most ancient and holy mountain. The twenty or so huts were all weathered and squat, but lovingly cared for by the families that had used them for generations. The smoke of morning cooking fires wafted up into the sky, carrying prayers to the myriad heavenly kami while we earthly kami watched the essences drift away. Long had I existed down here on the earth, and this spot was very special to me, as it was where I first had seen another living creature.

Relieved, I noticed that all of the able bodied men had already left to pursue their hunting, to bring meat for the children. I was not a fan of eating the flesh of living creatures, but I could understand the need for the humans to do so, especially the young. This high up in the mountainous area of the land, the growing season was short, necessitating the use of flesh. The keepers of the animals did not mind either, provided that the animal giving its life was thanked properly and sent back to its master with the proper gifts of the sacred carved sticks.

Most of the children had not yet begun to stir, needing the sleep to allow their bones and muscles to stretch and grow. Watching the tiny beings evolve from but a mere spot inside live-bearing mothers and eventually into fully grown adults was a fascinating process. I could feel the tiny ones pulling me deeply into their lungs only to expel me once more, and I imagined what it would be like to watch my Miko’s young grow. As a miko, tradition demanded that she remain celibate as far as human intimacy was concerned, so as not to stain her soul or to become polluted with the stench. Without doing so though, there was no way for her to bear children, unless some god were to decide to fill her womb.

I myself, planned to do so.

One of the older children was up and about, bringing in some more wood for her mother. Deep brown eyes twinkled with happiness like a jewel glitters below the sunlight, and her flat black hair pulled primly back to hang behind her in a low gathering where the strands whispered amongst themselves. A simple brown tunic and skirt clad her gangly form, and I was reminded of the little lizards that played amongst the rocks in the noontime sun. A mischievous child, she also possessed the keen intellect that befitted the future wife of the boy who stood to be village chief one day.

“Good morning Otome-sama! Will you be joining us for breakfast today?”

I wondered that as well. Today would be the day she was to break yet another of her common ritual fasts. Her thin form would surely be more than ready for sustenance, and the family of her aunt was well known for delicious and wholesome meals. I was particularly partial to the sweetened rice cakes that were her aunt’s specialty, and they went very well with dumplings and tea. Such were what the family regularly offered to me on their household kamidana, the mini-shrine that every household had. Her favorite food was trout, and the special way that her aunt prepared it was a wonder, baked in wrappings of leaves instead of roasted as most prepared them.

“Not today Yumi-chan. I have some things to do this morning.”

“But cousin! What could you possibly have to do so early in the morning? You weren’t spied on during your misogi were you?”

I was in shock that one so young could know of the unmarried males’ past time of woman-watching, but then I remembered that little Yumi was indeed ten falls old. She was old enough to begin to understand such things. Thankfully, she still became nervous whenever her father talked of marriage choices. She had not started her courses yet, and so she had a little more time. In my shock at her question though, I had completely stopped moving, not even the slightest breeze stirring the hair or clothing of the pair for the space of a heartbeat.

“Not exactly Yumi. I did have a visit from the village guardian though, and so I have a task that pertains to him to do before I will set food to my lips.”

“I’ll save you some then.”

Here, the child gave her elder cousin a stern gaze over her vast armload of wood. The child was very dedicated to the woman, and often could be found at my Miko’s home spinning in the peaceful solitude when her chores were finished. It struck me how very like my lovely Otome’s departed mother the child looked.

“Hai, hai little one. I will come over after I have finished.”

“Yay! I’ll tell Omoto that we are saving you breakfast!”

With that, the child gave an awkward bow over her burden, then raced inside her home as fast as she could. Her cries of ‘mother, mother’ filled my substance with her excited exuberance and as her omoto fed the fire with the wood offered to her the child imparted her news to the amused woman. Chuckling to herself, my maiden glided through the village to her own home, each graceful sweep of a limb incongruous against her rough surroundings.

Her own hut was just as simple as the others of the village, although it did manage to have a few embellishments marking it as a holy building. The eaves were slightly more ornate, but only if you were looking very hard. The most obvious mark of who lived within the grey-brown wood walls that seemed as if they grew from the very earth itself was the small, and carefully lettered sign over the door denoting the building as the Shrine of the Wind Spirit. Everyone in the village already knew this news, it was more as a courtesy for the few visitors that they received. The rice paper windows gleamed in the ever-rising sun, and I followed her in as she pushed aside the bamboo screen that provided privacy for the interior.

At first to a human it would be difficult to see, but after the eyes had an opportunity to adjust to the low light spilling through the paper panes it would be a simple matter to navigate in the sparse room. The floor was raised from the entryway, a platform of lovingly tended pine wood to separate the building that had housed the holy people of the village for generations. Some generations it had lain empty, while others had filled it with several tenants. In the center of the one room enclosure waited a firepit and hearth, empty and waiting for a fire to fill it, unneeded during the time of her fast. Neatly folded in one corner was her bedding, the thin futon and blanket neatly placed on the simple chest that hid her extra clothing. In the corner directly opposite the door lurked the kamidana, already piled with offerings of rice and sake laid out for myself and the others.

“I know you followed me.”

If I had a heart, it would seize at this very moment. I had forgotten that she would sense my presence, as any well-trained priestess could. I could only stay where I was as she went about her task of placing the dedicated stone on the little altar, looking so out of place and yet right along with all of the wooden items. Her small form trembled with emotion, but what the emotion was I could not tell.

“Behave yourself. You may be a god, and a powerful one at that my Lord, but this is my body. I am already viewed with enough suspicion for being different from the others, no matter how much ‘honor’ they bestow with this position. Please do not draw more attention to me that what they already pay.”

She had used no verse in her speech to me, speaking as she would to an unruly child. I noticed that her eyes had begun to tear, which worried me greatly. She rarely cried about anything, and the last time she had shed any tears was when her parents had died, falling victim to an exceptionally cold winter. Was my little one afraid then?

“I follow you because I care, not because I wish to have you for my lair. Though strong indeed you are, many spirits come from afar. Some are bad and some are pure, but of this you need be sure, they all seek after you, and so it is that this I do. I have already said that I will wait. Now go Otome and fill your plate.”

With this, I gathered myself once more, and carefully tried to edge her out the door. She moved slowly out of the room, dragging her feet as if she wasn’t sure that she should. It surprised me greatly when she turned around in my arms, and for just a moment it was as if she was looking right at me. The maiden stilled in shock, and then her eyes flew open wide as if they were registering something.

With a stifled squeak, my Otome bolted.

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Yorishiro - temporary abode of a spirit
Otome - virgin