Memory Lane
A diaphanous layer of white fog met green tree tops miles down to the mountain's end. Clear moisture droplets touched my skin as I traveled. The higher elevations of lightning country were always moist and cool. Heat waves weren't very common this high in the mountains, which is why shorts and tank-tops weren't a very popular fashion statement. While descending down the mountain with the rest of our group, I took it upon myself to venture a safe distance away from our carriage. There was a particular spot I remembered on my last visit to my home village, a ten-story tree that towered above the rest of the forest. I could see it in the distance not far off from our camp sight, and was growing more excited by the second as we neared my desired destination. After we were done setting up camp, I'd go and spend the rest of my evening atop the highest possible branch, far away from any pool of society.
An orphan since I was four, memories of my birth parents are foggy and mostly forgotten. My foster parents usually kept me for a few months, and then would pass me on to another family. Life was harder for me than most people at such a young age, but it made me a stronger person in the process. I wanted to impress my foster families in hope that one of them would adopt me as their own, and as a result enrolled in the ninja academy. The internal life source discussed daily, chakra, fascinated me to new and endless heights. Teachers didn't need to give me further instructions. I was the first in my class to successfully connect with my inner chakra source. However, my control over my chakra reserves was more of a curse than a blessing. My teachers were frightened about the masses of chakra I seemed to withstand. They had asked me questions about the flow of my chakra—how it felt, and characteristics of its behavior. "Does it hurt?" They would ask. "Are you feeling alright?" Being six at the time, I barely could register their questions. All the commotion and dilemmas were a foreign language to me. I still couldn't believe I answered any of their questions.
"It doesn' hwurt," I said, cuddling a teddy bear and kunai. Nice combination. Don't you think?
"If it doesn't hurt, then what does it feel like?" Another grow-up asked, a female to be precise. She wore a black t-shirt and pants, along with a green vest that symbolized her higher authority. A bandana was in her hair, tied in a knot in the back, with a metal plate pinned to the front across her forehead. The metal plate had two clouds carved into it, symbolizing her loyalty to our village. Every ninja, otherwise known as shinobi, of our village wore this symbol somewhere on their attire.
"What should it feel like?" I asked, not really knowing how to answer her question. Come on, I was six for crying out loud! How the hell am I suppose to know the vocabulary of a thirty-nine year-old dude. Answer: non-existent.
The same female gave me a sideways glance, as if not really knowing how to restate her question. She was silent for about a minute, and then spoke again: "Chakra is supposed to be a source of energy that can be…turned on and off. Energy that is felt only when needed. It a special feeling that sends tingles up your spine and nerves, but at the same time is exciting and cool." She paused, "Does that help?"
I nodded and quickly answered, "Yeah! I know what you mean! But…my chakra doesn't tingle…it…seems to like talking to me…"
"Talking?"
"Yeah, it talks, but doesn' have a body, so it talks through me, like a ghost!"
The group of shinobi look at each other with questionable faces. The same ninja crouched down to look me in the eyes. "Do you know what it talks to you about?"
I paused, "Stuff related to trees and flowers." I smiled. The female ninja sighed, and gave me a hug.
"Don't worry, sweetie. We are going to find you a home." I couldn't help but cry.
The next month I spent secluded in a small room somewhere in the village. My "guardian" had told me that my permanent foster family would be here soon to pick me up, and I found myself counting the days until their arrival. The next month or so passed slowly and dimly, the only source of light was through the small barred window near the ceiling, and my only source of entertainment was tracing the zig-zag brick pattern on the wall. Visits from my "guardian" were brief and gloomy. The ninja would only enter to hand me my meals and take me out for my daily bathroom break. It wasn't that bad I supposed. It could have been worse.
When I was finally released from my quarters for the first time in weeks, I was taken straight to the center park, where the yearly Lunar Festival was taking place. Memories of my mother and father taking me to this very festival loomed in the back of my mind as we entered a huge circus tent. My first thought as my "guardian" and I sat down in the bleachers was that we were going to watch the circus performers, but when I realized we were the only ones in the circus tent, it occurred to me that something else was going on. Suddenly, the tent went dark as the entrance closed, and a bright light focused in on a platform about a hundred feet from the ground. A girl appeared in a puff of smoke, wearing a sparkly red leotard and matching gloves. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her lips were accented with a deep shade of crimson. She looked straight at me and smiled. A drum roll magically appeared as she reached for a swinging trapeze bar. She jumped upward, and then she was off—doing tricks and summersaults that I didn't think were possible up until now. As she came to halt on middle bar (there were three side by side), it slowly dropped to the center of the arena on the ground. Her feet landed gracefully, as if she were walking on air. She smiled at me again, a genuine smile full of hope and kindness. "Satomi, welcome to your new home," she said. It was the single most amazing moment of my life.
From that moment onward I had travelled with my family of freaks. We spent a good eight months out of the year surrounded by trees, animals, and forest life, while four months was spent in towns such as my home village. I enjoyed the occasional stops and tours. It gave me a chance to explore different parts of the world and its varieties of people and customs. It also gave me time to sketch and capture nature in my sketch book. As I sat atop the highest branch in the tallest tree for miles around, I did just that—drew nature and its eternal beauty.