Disclaimer: I do not own Fatal Frame or anything related to it.
Ritual Children
The Blessed Household
The man was aging, there was no question about it. His fine dark hair faded slowly into grays and whites, wrinkles pressed into his skin, and his skilled hands grew crooked and clumsy with the progression of time. Though his eyes watched children play and his trade brought them joy, he had no little child of his own. He visited the priests less and less often these days. His prayers received no answer, and he resigned that his only contact with children would be from afar.
Then, when his despair seemed total, a miracle occurred. It was discovered his wife was pregnant. He took on new life when he heard the news. His hands worked as if they were the hands of a younger man. What he produced in that time were the most beautiful creations of his career. All of the children wanted one of his dolls now. The money he gathered from his work was enough to build more rooms to his home. The priests came to bless the expected child.
One day, the child growing inside his wife would be a blessing for the entire village.
The day of the child's entrance in the world arrived. He waited, deep in prayer. Anticipated blessings always took a long time in coming, and when they came there was always a price to be paid. His wife paid the price of her very life to bring their blessing into the world. The news broke his heart, and was left to himself while the living blessing was prepared.
Indeed, the child would be a blessing for the entire village. He knew this when the eldest was placed in his arms. Their mother sacrificed her life so they would live, and when the time came he knew the younger of these two girls would be sacrificed so the village could live. That was the greatest price he could pay for receiving these blessings.
The final rites for his departed wife were given. His miracle children were his comfort. For the first few months after their birth he attended the girls alone. He prayed for them, they were his blessing, and so he would tend to their every need. His hands now had a different purpose. No dolls were made during this time. Money slowly dwindled away, day by day threatening to dissolve completely and leave the house with nothing.
He took up his craft again for the sake of his daughters. A different kind of doll began to produce from his hands. He made each one with loving care as if he intended it for one of his daughters. The dolls developed to resemble miniature shrine maidens. The hair was fine and dark, the faces childlike, the clothes white kimonos. Again he saw great success in his work and again money found its way back into his house.
The girls grew old enough to be presented to the priests and receive their names. For any child such a ceremony was important. For the Shrine Maidens, it was even more so. Their names would be known throughout the village and would become symbols of hope as the ritual drew near. Therefore, it was his duty to think of names his daughters could carry proudly. The priests were waiting for him to speak. He knelt down and placed the first infant before them.
"This is my daughter, a miracle given to me in my old age. I have decided to call her Akane. I beg your blessings on her." The priests shook their staffs over the child, granting her strength and bravery to perform the task her birth assigned her. The second child was placed before the priests, next to her sister. "This also is my daughter, a miracle given to the village. I have decided to call her Azami. I beg your blessings on her." The priests complied, blessing this second child with a purity of spirit and easy passage into her sister.
He called the child Azami, after her mother. He acknowledged the sacrifice that would have to be made. The mother died but she lived on in her children. The child Azami would live on in her sister. Even so, he would lose Azami twice.
The last Ritual occurred only three years before his girls were born. So young, to perform such a weighty task. It was his duty as their father to raise them as best he could with the time given. He took on the task alone, but this time it did not consume him. He made beautiful dolls for his little girls.
Beautiful dolls for the beautiful, blessed children.