Transience of a Water Mirror
By Kourin Lucrece
Disclaimer: not mine
Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while. Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Mask of Flesh to Hide the Soul
Chichiri wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The sun was high in the sky, and the day was warm even for summer. Even his kasa was not providing cool shade, merely causing the young monk's head to feel the heat more keenly. He had left Tai-Yi Jun's mountain only a day or so ago, his training over.
In the distance, Chichiri noted a small village and smiled slightly. Perhaps he could stop and get some water as he traveled. It would be a nice respite from the sun's hot glare. With that thought, he continued walking.
It took longer than he would have expected to reach the outskirts of the small town, and there were no people in sight. He assumed that most of them were either working or in some cool place to spend the hottest time of day. He walked further down the road, wondering if there was a well, or a market.
A small boy sat in the middle of the road, crying frantically for his mother. His knee was scraped up and there seemed to be no one else around. Concerned, Chichiri kneeled down by the child and asked kindly, "Are you lost, chi-chan?" [small one]
Looking up at Chichiri's face, the boy let out a shriek. "Oni!" [ogre/monster]
Chichiri was surprise, and the boy took that moment to kick the monk and run to the other side of the street.
"You there!" a gruff voice called out. "What are you doing to that boy?"
"I... nothing," Chichiri faltered. "I merely asked if he was lost... I..."
When he turned to face the man, and his companions, the townspeople that had gathered to see what all the commotion was about let loose a murmur of disgust and fear. What sort of person was it that received a scar on their face like that? Surely he was a thief or worse.
The first rock that struck Chichiri's shoulder caused him to stumble back as much from shock as from pain. What was going on? He had only tried to help a child! Another, slightly larger, stone hit him in the abdomen.
"Go on!" they were shouting at him, "Leave! We don't want you here! Let the boy be!"
More rocks of varying sizes and sand were thrown at him, bruising the monk and blinding his remaining eye. He turned to flee from the onslaught, stumbling as a rock slammed into the small of his back.
When he reached the safety of the woods outside the town, Chichiri let himself drop to the cool moist dirt of the forest floor. Tears worked their way from his eye, and sobs shook his battered form. Was this to be his punishment for his sins? To forever be shunned and beaten, even by those he tried to help?
He had not allowed Tai-Yi Jun to heal his scar, seeing it as a mark of what he had done, his penance. It was a promise to those he had wronged that he would do his utmost to better the lives of others from now on. His wish to be able to fulfill that wish was transformed into a shapeless, wordless spell that conveyed all of his feelings. He poured all of the hurt he felt into that spell, and when the glow from the magic faded, it solidified into a mask cradled in the monk's hands.
He fell into an exhausted slumber, the mask still clutched in one hand. He would hide his face in the same way he would hide his own emotions.
-
Poor Chichiri. He really never gets a break, does he?
By Kourin Lucrece
Disclaimer: not mine
Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while. Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Mask of Flesh to Hide the Soul
Chichiri wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The sun was high in the sky, and the day was warm even for summer. Even his kasa was not providing cool shade, merely causing the young monk's head to feel the heat more keenly. He had left Tai-Yi Jun's mountain only a day or so ago, his training over.
In the distance, Chichiri noted a small village and smiled slightly. Perhaps he could stop and get some water as he traveled. It would be a nice respite from the sun's hot glare. With that thought, he continued walking.
It took longer than he would have expected to reach the outskirts of the small town, and there were no people in sight. He assumed that most of them were either working or in some cool place to spend the hottest time of day. He walked further down the road, wondering if there was a well, or a market.
A small boy sat in the middle of the road, crying frantically for his mother. His knee was scraped up and there seemed to be no one else around. Concerned, Chichiri kneeled down by the child and asked kindly, "Are you lost, chi-chan?" [small one]
Looking up at Chichiri's face, the boy let out a shriek. "Oni!" [ogre/monster]
Chichiri was surprise, and the boy took that moment to kick the monk and run to the other side of the street.
"You there!" a gruff voice called out. "What are you doing to that boy?"
"I... nothing," Chichiri faltered. "I merely asked if he was lost... I..."
When he turned to face the man, and his companions, the townspeople that had gathered to see what all the commotion was about let loose a murmur of disgust and fear. What sort of person was it that received a scar on their face like that? Surely he was a thief or worse.
The first rock that struck Chichiri's shoulder caused him to stumble back as much from shock as from pain. What was going on? He had only tried to help a child! Another, slightly larger, stone hit him in the abdomen.
"Go on!" they were shouting at him, "Leave! We don't want you here! Let the boy be!"
More rocks of varying sizes and sand were thrown at him, bruising the monk and blinding his remaining eye. He turned to flee from the onslaught, stumbling as a rock slammed into the small of his back.
When he reached the safety of the woods outside the town, Chichiri let himself drop to the cool moist dirt of the forest floor. Tears worked their way from his eye, and sobs shook his battered form. Was this to be his punishment for his sins? To forever be shunned and beaten, even by those he tried to help?
He had not allowed Tai-Yi Jun to heal his scar, seeing it as a mark of what he had done, his penance. It was a promise to those he had wronged that he would do his utmost to better the lives of others from now on. His wish to be able to fulfill that wish was transformed into a shapeless, wordless spell that conveyed all of his feelings. He poured all of the hurt he felt into that spell, and when the glow from the magic faded, it solidified into a mask cradled in the monk's hands.
He fell into an exhausted slumber, the mask still clutched in one hand. He would hide his face in the same way he would hide his own emotions.
-
Poor Chichiri. He really never gets a break, does he?