This is a translation of my own work "Epifanía del Amaranto" originally written and published in Spanish. I hope you enjoy it, and sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.
Cía. Cinematográfica Dragunov
Presents:
A production of:
Filmadora Nacional de Costas del Cráneo
Epiphany with Amaranth
A short film by Mark R. Dragunov
With:
Shouta Magatsuchi
And
Quetzalcoatl Ilhuicanenemi
Direction of photography:
Elma Jouii
But time after time I've been people I'm not
Places we go to, are all that we've got
So why don't we go? So why don't we go?
I'll never know
Isabella Sophie Tweedle
The rain pours down all over the city of Oborozuka, sliding down the crystal facades of the buildings, fattening the river of clear waters that wriggles around in its concrete cage, draining down the acute rooftops that shine like dragon skins, slipping through the rain chains of the houses like a whisper, and making fun of the Teru teru bozu that look at it with disdain from the wet windows.
A boy of straight and purple hair like the flowers of the lavender that grows next to his garden's fence stares at an antique codex with his blue eyes. The document is so old, that it could be part a museum collection. When he passes to the next page, the paper creaks with the fatigue of five hundred years of lectures and lessons. A thunder makes the boy take away his sight from the book and to the window, where the rain soaks a little sparrow that takes shelter in the windowsill next to the glass.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, a black cast iron teapot boils on the stove. Meanwhile, a young girl of golden hair with blue-green highlights like the marine sunsets puts a pair of white porcelain cups on a polished brass tray. In between her locks protrudes a pair of horns ringed like bamboo, slightly curved upwards and adorned with little green bows. She wears a cotton blouse of loose cut, with flowery embroidering in the torso and the sleeves; a red sash that enhances her waist, and a pair of white pants. After placing the sugar bowl and the spoons on the tray, the girl takes an oven glove, lifts the teapot from the stove and fills the cups cautiously with a mixture of light green Sencha tea.
The student boy passes yet another page of the book, but after an afternoon of constant effort, his attention and retention start to flag. Perhaps it is better if he takes a rest. And as if there was something connecting them, three knocks sound at the door just in time.
"Shouta-kun!" calls a female voice "May I come in?"
'Lucoa' thinks the boy 'Wasn't she supposed to be out?'
"Y-yes" he answers shyly.
"How's the book going?" she says as the door opens.
"Good." he replies, looking away to the pages.
"What are you studying?" asks Lucoa, getting near to the desk.
"Spagyrics"
"Oh. That is really interesting. I also know a lot about herbal and traditional medicine. I can teach you about that if you want, and I can also lend you my codices."
"Ah, er… yes, thank you" replies Shouta gingerly.
A couple seconds of awkward silence.
"You've been locked in here for a long time" says the girl to break the ice that always lies between them. "You should go out…" she stops, remembering the rain "at least to the living room. I prepared tea, and I brought some of those cookies that you like."
He doesn't seem too convinced.
"Also:" she adds "there's something I want to show you."
The boy's cheeks become red and his gaze falls to the floor.
"I mean:" corrects the girl "there's something that I want to explain you."
'Is she trying to prove me that she's not a demon again?'
He lifts his gaze and finds an innocent and warm smile. Even a little bit childish. Like when a kid wants to show her new discovering to her brother.
"Ok" says Shouta "I'll go wash my hands, and then I'll go."
"Don't be long" the girl answers happily "or your tea will get cold."
Downstairs, the sweet smell of herbs of the tea mixes with the petrichor that enters through the windows like a whisper, leaving the house like a summery garden. Shouta sits at the dining table, Lucoa places the cups, the plate with the cookies and the sugar bowl, and then sits right in front of him. It is in that very moment that the boy notices something unusual in the living room: the coffee table has been moved next to the sofa, and in its place there's two newspaper sheets placed on the floor. Over them there's three little ceramic plant pots, a gardening shovel, a small plate full with tiny white seeds, a sack with dirt, and a sheet metal watering can. Everything neatly ordered and clean.
"What's all of this for?" asks the boy "Are you going to give me a gardening lesson?"
She laughs at his insight.
"Shouta"
He faces her and there's that smile, again.
"The day we met…" she starts "I came here because I perceived that there was someone around doing a summoning ritual. When I noticed that the caller was of a young spirit, I couldn't let it pass. I knew it would be really dangerous if a demon appeared, so I decided that the best thing to do was to answer the call myself. When I came out of the portal and saw you in the floor, disoriented, confused and scared, I knew it was the right thing to do."
Shouta remembers that day clearly: the right preparation, the right book, the right words, the right hour… and even so, everything failed. Did it really failed? Was it really that bad to have here this woman of heavenly beauty instead of a monster from hell's sewers? Seen that way it wasn't really that bad. His father thought the same. "What were you thinking?!" he said the next day, while he scolded him for doing the ritual sneakily in his room "Thank goodness that she appeared instead of a real demon! If one of those had appeared you would be dead by now! And us too! Thank Lucoa-san that you're still here!"
She too remembers what happened that night. Shouta fainted immediately after seeing her. The explosion blew up a pair of candles, and the hot and sharp glass fragments left a pair of cuts in the cheeks and arms of the boy, along with a severe hit in his head because of the fall. Lucoa gave him first aid immediately while his parents almost battered the door down, scared as they were. They didn't seem to mind too much about a stranger being in their son's room; they were too frightened by the accident. The explosion managed to awake some of the neighbors, and it didn't take long before the firefighters arrived. Lucoa stayed looking after the house, trying to make up a believable explanation for the officers, while Mr. and Mrs. Magatsuchi rushed in the car to the hospital with their son. Truth is, the boy didn't require too much medical attention, aside from a couple of bandages for the cuts and some analgesics for the headache.
"I saw you there, so fragile and defenseless" continues Lucoa with a hint of tenderness "that from that very moment I knew I had to stay here and protect you from the things that your parents cannot face."
He looks at her. Now not with skepticism or embarrassment, like all the other times, but with curiosity.
"I am not a demon, Shouta" she asserts "and now I'm going to prove it."
And so, she steps out of the dining table and walks up to the living room, making a signal for him to go with her. With curiosity and some doubts, he accepts and sits next to her.
"We're going to make an experiment." Says Lucoa "These here are huauzontle seeds: a variety of amaranth that grows in Mexico. The first time I came here to Earth, I taught humans how to grow, harvest and eat this plant. It's been more than a thousand years since then, and the tradition continues."
While she explains, she gives the boy one of the pots, the shovel and the sack of dirt.
"You're going to help me, so you can see that I haven't put up any tricks in this"
'Every time a magician tries to show you that there is no trick' thinks Shouta while he takes the shovel 'it's because there really is one.'
He fills the spoon in the dirt sack and then pours it in the pot, trying not to spill too much on the floor. When it is finally full, Lucoa says:
"Ok. Now, take a few seeds and plant them. Please, be gentle. They won't sprout if you do it reluctantly or with anger."
The kid relaxes his expression and carefully takes the seeds from the plate. He opens a hole in the dirt with one of his fingers, and with the other hand he lets a few seeds fall inside, to cover them after. And so he continues with the other two pots.
"Ready!" exclaims Lucoa "And now, let's give them a little bit of water. They sure must be thirsty."
But before watering them, the girl places each pot on a little plate, so they don't spill all over the floor. Shouta makes sure of following the instructions, taking care that the streams don't take out the seeds or spill out of the pots.
"And now, please lend me your hands" orders Lucoa after putting the can aside.
The boy looks at her with a little bit of embarrassment, but he agrees in the end. The lady then takes his little hands between hers, puts them together and turns them around to let the palms facing down over one of the pots. Shouta blushes a little when he notices the softness and warmth of the demigoddess' skin, but curiosity takes the best of him, and decides to stay.
Lucoa inhales deeply, expanding the volume of her blouse and blushing her protected even more, and starts to recite a series of words in a strange language. A subtle green glow seems to come out of the pot, and soon Shouta notices some tickles in his palms. Both retire the hands and discover how a group of little plants come sprouting from the dirt, brilliant and fresh like a morning in April. The girl passes her hands over the other pots and makes them sprout so fast, that one can see the little leaves growing and the stems reaching out for the Sun.
Shouta's eyes open big and round like sky-blue opals. Along with those plants, a revelation has sprung in his mind. 'She's not a demon' the boy thinks while Lucoa waters the pots again 'A demon cannot give life, only take it'. He looks up and stares for a while at the girl's eyes. The iris of her right is a disc of jade with an obsidian pupil, while to her left she has a sapphire gem with a drop of gold at the center. Those are eyes that haunt, that open the locks of the soul and the corners of the heart to fill them with light. And before he can notice, Lucoa returns her gaze at him and traps him. Again.
Shouta goes back to the night that she appeared. The pain in the head, the burning of the cuts, the strange voice that whispered unintelligible but soothing words, the desperation of his mother and the silent angst of his father, everything is here again. His father was right. Had a demon appeared, he wouldn't be here, nor his family. If the ritual had worked just as planned, he wouldn't have seen again the tawny eyes of Aiko, the best reader of his class; there wouldn't be any more soccer matches after school with Hiroshi and Ichiro; and he wouldn't have delighted himself again with his grandmother's dango in the chilly afternoons at her house in Sapporo. Yes, Lucoa had definitively saved him from a horrible death, and he hasn't take the trouble to thank her for it.
"Lucoa" he mumbles shyly.
"Yes?"
"I… think… I…" he stutters, fidgeting with his hands "owe you and apology."
The smile of the girl illuminates the room a little bit more, while the outside rain starts to give in.
"All this time I thought that you were an evil being that came from the Underworld to torment me" he explains, blushing again "and now I realize that you're not. If it wasn't for you, maybe I wouldn't be here anymore."
Tears are just about to come out of Lucoa's eyes. The impulse of rushing and embracing her protected is strong, but she intuits that he has more to say, so she decides to wait.
"And I also realized that you are not a doragon" he says, looking at the plant pots "you are a Ryū. Only they can make life bloom on the land and bring abundance and rain."
The demigoddess silently assents, with a proud smile.
"But I have a question."
"Tell me."
"If you are goddess from the heavens:" he points out shyly "what are you doing here on Earth?"
"It's been long since I lost that status" she answers with a nostalgic sigh "I'd prefer not to tell you how it happened…"
"But, how is it that you still have your powers?" replies the boy, pointing at the pots.
"It is a matter of politics." She explains. "After that incident, the Orators declared me worthless of my charge and ordered my immediate expulsion from the Celestial Council. But when my father saw that my brothers couldn't do my job, he returned me my powers. Politically, I'm still exiled, sure, but that's not something that bothers me."
Shouta's eyebrows rise in surprise.
"So, even between gods there's political mess" he says in an attempt of sarcasm, pretty sharp for his age.
"No one gets away from that, Shouta-kun."
A tiny laugh flutters around the room, and a Sun ray enters through the window.
"Oh, look." Points out Lucoa. "It seems that the rain has passed. How about we go to the park for an ice cream?"
The boy silently agrees.
"Well:" says the girl, picking up the shovel and the plate with seeds "go wash your hands while I pick this up."
Shouta starts to turn around to leave, but something makes him stop.
"Lucoa-sama…
She looks at him, still sitting on the floor.
"Th-thank you…" he says with his cheeks tinted in red.
"You're welcome, Mazatzin" she answers.
Lucoa gets up on the wooden floor and hugs her protected. He is thankful that she's kneeling on the ground, just at the right height to rest his head in her shoulder instead of getting drowned between her generous breasts.
"How did you call me?" he asks when he lets go of the embrace.
"Mazatzin" she repeats "It means 'little deer' in Nahuatl, my mother language. Don't you like it?"
He looks away, unsure of the answer.
"You're like a fawn:" she explains, grabbing him by his arm "shy, fearful, mistrustful; but also cunning, nimble, fast and daring. You'll be a great sorcerer when you grow up. You'll see."
The boy smiles gingerly with the compliment.
"Well," the girl finally says, getting up to take the plant pots to the garden "go and wash yourself to go out."
The boy obeys and leaves, walking to the hall. Lucoa goes out to the garden and finds the chrysanthemums bathed in the golden light of the afternoon Sun that also covers the grass, the cobblestones of the sidewalk, and the rooftops of the hundreds of houses that fill the city of Oborozuka.
Cía. Cinamatográfica Dragunov
Presented:
A production of:
Filmadora Nacional de Costas del Cráneo
Shouta Magatsuchi
And
Quetzalcoatl Ilhuicanenemi
In:
Epiphany with Amaranth
A short film by Mark R Dragunov
Direction of photography:
Elma Jouii
Make up and costume design:
Tohru Kobayashi
Scenography:
Elma Jouii
Original Soundtrack:
La Lune, Billie Marten, La Lune
Distributed by:
Fanfiction. Net
Written and directed by:
Mark R Dragunov