Immortal Tragedy

Akemi stumbled through the woods cursing. It was raining and she was drenched. Where was the angel? She was certain she had seen, in that flash of lightning, a woman with wings, falling, but as she stumbled through the forest, tripping over tree roots and running into branches, she began to regret rushing out into the rain in her nightgown.

“It was probably just a trick of the light,” she thought, “I probably didn’t see her at all, but…she looked in trouble. I hope I can help her.”

As she rounded the next bend in the trail, she saw the woman lying amidst broken branches. The rain was drenching her hair and clothes. Her wings were broken and useless and her arm was twisted at an awkward angle. She looked dead.

Akemi rushed to the woman’s side. Good. She was still breathing.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Yellow-green eyes fluttered open. “Help me,” pleaded the woman.

“How?” Akemi cried, “What can I do?” she bit her lip in frustration. She had found the angel but now she couldn’t help her.

The woman gathered her strength around her like a cloak. “My name is Salina,” she whispered, “I am in labor. I was trying to go to the healer when that storm blew up. Please take care of my child.”

Startled Akemi looked and saw that the woman, Salina, was indeed pregnant. She grasped Salina’s hand and asked her how long she had been in labor and how far apart her contractions were, but Salina shook her head.

“Such things will be no use to you,” she said, “Our kind are too different from yours, and besides I am dying too quickly anyway. You will have to cut the child from me.”

Akemi was shocked. “W…what!?” she sputtered.

Salina pulled aside her wing and as the lightning flashed Alexial could see the tree branch protruding from Salina’s right breast. Salina’s breath was coming in ragged gasps.

“Please!” she gasped, “Save my child.” Then Salina passed out from the pain.

“Salina! Wake up! Don’t die please,” cried Akemi. There was no response.

Thinking quickly Akemi fumbled for her knife that she always kept strapped to her leg even when she was sleeping. Gritting her teeth she cut into Salina’s stomach to pull the child free. It was a boy. For a few heart-stopping moments the glade was silent before the sound of an infant’s wail pierced the clearing.
At the sound of her child’s wail Salina revived, “Zoer. His name. Take care of…” Salina gave her final breath and breathed no more. Alexial nodded and, with tears indistinguishable from the rain, gathered the baby up in his mothers cloak and began the trek back to her house.
Naoki Hayashi looked towards the forest anxiously. He was the keeper of the Shrine of Suzaku and he lived with his granddaughter Akemi in a little house beside it. It had been three hours since his granddaughter had run off into the woods yelling that she had seen an angel. The storm had cleared up a little while ago and the sun was rising. Naoki was debating going to look for Akemi.

He was worried about her. Akemi was all he had left. His daughter had died giving birth to her and Akemi’s father had run off to Africa a few years ago and got himself shot in that war they had over there. He was a reporter and had gone to "make his fortune". What was it called, The Boer war? Naoki couldn’t care less, but right now he had the same feeling of dread that he had felt the day his son in law had dropped Akemi off on the steps of the shrine with news of his daughter’s death.

Naoki paced the ground in front of that very same shrine. He was about to go look for Akemi when she came running from the woods. Her hair was wet and matted; her nightgown clung to her skin and was dirty and torn in several places. She was carrying a bundle that was stained with blood.

“I found her grandpa,” she called, “She was pregnant. She gave birth before she died. Help me bury her, or what about the baby? What should I do with him?” she opened the bundle to reveal a small baby boy with teal wings, aqua hair and shimmering golden-green eyes. At the intrusion into his cocoon he peered around curiously at his surroundings.

Naoki was startled, to say the least. As he looked at his granddaughter’s flushed cheeks he realized how excited she was.

Naoki replied, “Well he should be all right in the house if we leave Tasuki here with him,” Tasuki was a little fox that Akemi had found two years ago. He was trained, like a dog, to guard the shrine. “But you need to get changed out of that wet nightgown before we go back out into those woods.”

“Okay,” agreed Akemi, “Here Tasuki here boy,” She called.

Tasuki came running and followed Akemi and her grandfather into the house. It was at least a hundred years old and had been there almost as long as the shrine. Naoki had been living here for most of his life. He had been saddened when his only daughter had not wanted to stay here and tend the shrine. None of the children in the nearby village wanted to spend their lives caring for the shrine of some obscure Chinese phoenix god either. So Naoki was alone, until his granddaughter came that is.

Akemi placed the baby on her bed. “Guard, Tasuki,” she commanded. Then she led the way to where she had found the woman with wings.

When they reached the place, Naoki gasped in shock. For, even dead, the woman was beautiful, with those pale green wings and long dark green hair. She looked peaceful now, if one ignored the gaping wound in her stomach she would seem to be asleep. Naoki shook his head to clear it and helped his granddaughter to bury the beautiful angel.

They buried her in the clearing that was made by her plummet into the undergrowth. Akemi would often go there to lay flowers and burn incense on her grave. Sometimes she would bring the boy whom she named Zoer, as his mother had requested. He grew, but very slowly. The years passed, and she married and had children of her own. Zoer still had the appearance of a toddler.

Akemi’s husband, Yuu, was the one to say what they all knew, “He is immortal, never ageing or dying, he will be alive when we are all dust.”

Young Zoer raised his head from where he was playing blocks with the twins; Akemi’s eldest having grown out of blocks.

“Mommy?” he asked, “What does daddy Yuu mean? You aren’t gonna turn into dust, are you?”

Akemi’s eyes softened, “No. You remember what I told you when grandpa died last year?”

Zoer nodded, “You said that he had gone to be with Suzaku and we had to take care of the shrine for him.”

“That’s right. Very good Zoer,” A beamed, “well, what daddy means is that you’ll never go to see Suzaku. You won’t have to. Instead you can take care of the shrine for us when we have to go.”

Zoer smiled, “Okay!” he said, “I’ll take very good care of it too.”

Akemi shook her head sadly, knowing that he did not yet understand, and went to light the lamps. It was nearly wintertime, and it got dark early.



Zoer stood in the clearing with sunlight cascading down his shoulders. With tears steaming down his face he knelt and placed flowers on the grave of his sister.

There were eight graves in the clearing now. His mother’s grave was indiscernible from the forest floor, but for the scattering of dried flowers upon it. Akemi and Yuu had also passed away. he in the Second World War, she a few years later. His brothers had also died in World War II, their graves decades old. His sister had succumbed to age a few days ago.

Rising from where he knelt, Zoer vowed that she would be the last. He would never let another human touch his heart again. They would only leave him.

As he walked down the trail towards the shrine a little fox cub jumped out of the brush and followed him. There were dozens of the little things around and all of them obeyed the people of the shrine. They were his only friends now, the only creatures he would let himself love. Zoer knelt and picked up the little foxling.

He continued on cradling the cub in his arms. As he passed a stream he gazed at his reflection. A young boy with dark green wings, pastel green hair, and golden-green eyes gazed back at him.

“I look as if I’m ten or twelve,” he thought as a tear trickled down his face. “Everyone thought I was lucky. They thought this was a gift.”

The fox cub leaped out of his arms as they became too tight. He disappeared into the woods.

“But it’s not,” he continued trying to hold back his sobs, “It’s a curse. I’m not ten or twelve. I’m over ninety years old.” The last sentence was screamed to the sky as though some higher power could hear and make everything right. Birds, startled by the loud sound, fluttered away. In the clearing by the stream the only sound was of a child crying.