Gaka was in trouble. Five days ago, the lord of the local province's castle had commissioned him to paint a portrait of a goddess for his reception area, and so far, all Gaka had come up with were a few sketchy charcoal portraits on ragged parchments. The lord was becoming impatient, and Gaka knew that he would have to pick up the pace if he didn't want to be kicked out without any gold-or just executed for wasting the lord's time.
The trouble was this: Gaka simply hadn't found any inspiration. He'd traveled around the province and seen many beautiful ladies, but none of them called to his artist's soul. Gaka knew that when the right woman was found, he would just know. Like he had known when his life's dream was painting. It wasn't like a revelation or an epiphany; it was like Gaka had always known, but it had taken him a long time to realize it. However, none of the beauties he'd seen thus far had called out to him, and Gaka knew that he was running out of time. He needed this job; the lord was willing to pay much gold, enough to feed and clothe Gaka for many months, and the reputation he would get from the job was beyond priceless.
If only he could find his goddess...
Gaka sat on a bridge in a small village, sometimes throwing stones into the water as he moped. If he couldn't find a suitable woman in time, he would probably have to make do with whatever he had found. That seriously irked Gaka. 'What is the point of an important commission if I cannot pour my heart and soul into it?' he griped to himself.
It was then, sitting on the bridge as he threw stones into the water, that he saw her. The girl was standing with a group of three other people and one child. He took no notice of them, however. They were positively mundane compared to the living, breathing phenomenon he now beheld. Her eyes were large and brown, filled with youthful innocence, but also a strange timelessness, as if she were older than her young visage suggested. Her lips were full and round, not pouting, but more...accepting. Her skin was the color of fragile porcelain and looked just as delicate. The long hair that cascaded in brilliantly luscious waves down her back were black, the sunlight somehow splitting the darkness into every color of the rainbow. The body underneath her rather odd clothes was perfect: her breasts were neither too small nor too big, her hips well proportioned to her waist. The long legs exposed by the unusually short skirt were well-rounded and looked deceptively fragile.
A strange, tingling warmth spread throughout Gaka's body.
His artist's soul was at last appeased.
He had found his Amaterasu.
Gaka quickly reached into his pack and drew out charcoal and a battered scroll. Moving fast so as not to let his newest inspiration get away from him, Gaka sketched the girl in the pose he had decided to use for his Amaterasu when he found her. 'There is no mistake!' he thought gleefully. 'She is my Amaterasu.'
The joyful artist rushed to the castle the next day, eager to start painting the scroll of Amaterasu. However, when he was only five miles from the castle, Gaka drew to a halt. 'What in the name of all the Kami am I going to use for paints?' he wondered. Of course he couldn't do Amaterasu with charcoal, and the regular ink paints seemed too...normal for him. Gaka wanted his Amaterasu to radiate power and beauty, to strike adoration and respect into the hearts of others, to make them feel as if she could walk off the page and into their very lives. But where on Earth could he find the materials to help him do so?
Angrily, Gaka kicked a stray pebble on the ground. It clattered away into the ditch at the side of the road, glinting with a strange light as it splashed into the muddy ditch-water. 'Wait a second,' Gaka thought, his eyes narrowing. The pebble he had kicked had nowhere near the brilliance of that sparkle. Gaka, being an artist and thus curious about everything in the world, decided to investigate. The artist shed his pack and clambered carefully into the ditch. There it was again! An unmistakable pink glow, almost like some sort of gemstone...
Gaka's arm shot out, like it was an iron nail drawn to a magnet. His fingers got mostly mud, but he thought he could feel a stone somewhere in the lot. Gaka drew the glop up to his face and began to sift carefully through it.
The artist stared, his jaw slightly agape. A glittering pink sliver of a stone rested in the muddy palm of his hand. It looked remarkably ordinary, but Gaka's intuition told him that if he had laid this particular gem in the midst of other precious stones, the people would be tripping over themselves to get this stone. There was just something about it...something that exuded power...
'Power...' Hadn't Gaka been searching for something out of the ordinary to give his Amaterasu the sense of godliness she needed? Hadn't he cursed to himself, thinking such a thing was impossible? 'Dear Kami above, I thank you for this precious gift!' he thought gleefully, lifting his hand to the sky in gratitude. 'I promise you that my painting will be the best work ever done!'
Gaka moved off, eager to begin the work on his Amaterasu.