Arms of the Kami no Kohakugawa
Chapter 6: Soul Dreams
Rain Says:
Hello everyone. I'm back from a funeral, so I probably won't be uploading anything new on this or any of the other stories for a while. I wrote some while I was gone, but they just don't seem right. I've got to get out of the funk. Anyway, please enjoy.
Thunder filled the air as the festival drums sounded, the skins caressed by white clad men and carried through the community. All through the streets children's voices rang in accompaniment to cymbals and bells, the two musics competing and yet complementing each other. Paper streamers danced in the wind before the great dragon that paraded to the shrine from the city's heart, the white silk of simulated scales shining as his green mane blew.
On a small float, isolated to her own company, rode a small figure whose eyes were trained into some other world. The rushing rapids themselves seemed to have leant their color to the fine kimono she wore, girded with a simple blue obi tied in a modest style. Chestnut waves rode free past her shoulders, all of her normal bindings removed for the sacred rite. Even a particular hair tie had been removed, although it was placed about her wrist now. Sitting on her knees, a proud figure she cut as she rode, wavering not even an inch though the drunken men below the deck might as well have been a stormy sea. Clutched nervously to her left breast in her right hand was a white rose, fresh as the day she had first received the holy gift so many years ago.
Behind the float, mounted on twin snowy steeds were a young male and female. River blue and snow white swathed the attendants as the tack jangled with the festival sounds, adding its own music to the fray. Today, instead of the sacred jewel and mirror they normally conveyed, they had brandished weapons seemingly at thin air. The woman, an odd figure with her icy blue eyes and short red-brown hair pierced the crowd with her gaze and periodically sliced the air with her naginata, a loud cry of victory frightening any other demon daring an attack on the vessel she guarded. Her spiritual sight revealed dangers most humans missed, causing many to believe it just a show. The man presented a similar image, although much more common appearing with his dark hair and warm brown eyes. Similar to his partner, he cantered while wielding a katana, defeating dark forces unknown to the gathered humanity.
Following behind this spectacle was a tiny retinue composed of children serving as assistants at the holy site they were destined for, high chants vibrating the air with sweet melody. Clad in red and white, they were as little fires as they danced and sang, spewing forth sparks of sweets in their wake to symbolize the blessings that the river brought.
These displays of pomp were to be seen periodically, although the oddity of this one would cause any tourist to wonder what was happening if this were not a normally held festival. After the restoration of the river and the return of the shrine from the mists of generations past, this was possibly the greatest occurrence since. Today, the head miko would be elevated into a new position, and although not as honored as a high priestess in the Ise shrine, she would be high priestess of this river shrine.
The white figure had undergone an intense ritual of purification, and then a test to determine her readiness. Literally spending days below the fingers of the falls, the cold rushing waters had tested her stamina, will, and desire to improve herself. Not once had her chants ceased as she prayed to the river deity to remove her impurities to serve him better. Her community was always in her prayers, never forgotten as each piece relied on the whole. She wavered a few times, nearly losing her balance, beneath the onslaught, but always she had been supported through her faith. The deity heard her prayers and after her seven day trial the falling waters pressed a stone into hands that had been forming mudras and a fond kiss upon her brow. With the receipt of the gift, she had briefly felt something inside herself open wider, a flood gate releasing torrents of some unknown substance.
Her grandfather had been the most pleased. The shrine would be balanced by her new role, and a step closer to the way things had been done when the very first shrine for the river had been constructed back when the Ainu had first wandered to this land.
So it was now that she found herself here amongst all of this rejoicing while her mind attended to other matters entirely.
She felt him all about her, his cold scales slipping over her skin as his coils closed around her. The weight of a huge head rested on one shoulder as his breath tickled her ear in his purrs and growls of contentment or his hisses of annoyance as some invisible low level spirit dared to approach what was his own. Her body still felt the weight of the water crashing over her head and combing away all that had hidden her light. To the priestess, the roars of the crowd were his roars of jubilation as she opened herself to him in whatever way he would have her, a willing vessel for his power. She was the one to relay his more potent blessings to the populace that she served.
The lonely tones of a flute ghosted over everything, and as her eyes returned once more to the realm of man, she thought she saw his human shape. Looking closer as she passed though, there was a decided lack of color to the kimono, signaling that it was in fact the sire instead. A nod and smile that temporarily lit the sad emeralds further revealed the disguised dragon's approval.
Another familiar face stood out from the crowd closer to the shrine, laughing holes shining forth earthen treasures. Dark hair bubbled into the air, seeming to have life of its own and refusing to lay down for the owner. His ornate black kimono echoed of the deepest reaches of hidden caves while the blue borders spoke of the waters that the spring spirit processed. The impertinent kami called something at her in a guttural growling language interspersed with hisses, followed by his boisterous laughter.
She didn't understand it, nor did any of the community members other than the male rider currently on her left side, but her guardian seemed to. A reply hissed out of her throat unbidden as they continued, her invisible dragon's clutch growing tighter until she felt as if her breath was no more.
They continued onward towards the shrine, steadily drawing nearer to the sacred precinct. Today she would be eligible for marriage with this release of her miko status into a different one, although only one entity in the world captivated her imagination. A cloth replica of him continued to dance ahead of her, tormenting her with a desire to see the true dragon once more. His emerald and jade eyes tormented her thoughts, the line between religious dedication and desire having disappeared long ago for her. Although she could marry with her new post, she would not, maintaining her body as set aside only for him as she had vowed so long ago.
Here is where her dream began to swing wide of the reality of what had happened that day. A red glow came over everything, warning her of an upcoming bloodshed. The thin border between the realms of humanity and the spirits began to rip before her very eyes, and whole groups of festival goers were lost to her sight. Hideous monsters spewed forth from the gaping maw, blood blackened and encrusted on ivory fangs like cracking and over-dried icing on a petrified cake. Unspeakable horrors, many of the citizens were petrified on the spot with their fear. After all, everyone just knew that monsters were only fantasy.
The priestess and her retinue were the only line of defense these humans and earthbound spirits possessed. BlowingWind and Ryu were already engaging two of the beasts, both now wounded and dripping in sweat and blood that mixed and ran like juice. The priestess had no weapons and no way that she could think of to help fight, useless and ornamental like so many others in so many other shrines across the islands. The coils of the dragon tightened around her further as the nearby river began to froth with the enraged approach of the charging lord.
Out of the roiling waters like any wrathful god he arose. The river itself congealed into a solid form, pearl scales white as whitecaps and his mane seeming as dancing river weeds. The rapids roared through his mouth in his rage, and emerald faded to jade becoming steel before glowing like a katana in the forge.
The monster that had been preparing to eat the struggling woman dropped its prize hard wrested from the protecting mitama before blazing against the main of the river guardian. The beast stole her beloved's form, making it impossible to distinguish between attacker and defender and in the course of the battle both became wounded.
As she stared in horror all around her, Chihiro realized that even if she had been able to do something, the priestess was little more than a shade anyway. Neither of one world or the other anymore, ultimately her efforts would all be futile, and any results derided.
"Reach inside yourself.
Seek what you have lost.
Find once more the shelf,
Before you pay great cost."
The voice overriding her dream was neither man nor woman, but a blend of the two. Resonant and lyrical, it was at once calm and angry, loving and hateful.
What had she lost? When had she dropped it? Most importantly, how would she know when she had found it once more?
Her dream began to eat at her soul, consuming parts of it that had become battered by forces unknown to spirit them away. It was at this most dangerous point that she heard familiar whispers in her ear, and feltharsh pressure upon a clammy hand.
"Chihiro. Please wake up. Don't leave me."
Before her eyes, illusions shattered as will a winter icicle once dropped on frozen ground. Stepping out of her dream, the priestess said the spell taught to so many Japanese children in their beds to ward away nightmares.
"Baku! Devour this dream! Oh, Hakuuu!"
The visions faded from her sight and sweet rest claimed her wounded being. A warmth wrapped her in his arms and Chihiro knew that she was safe and that she belonged. Later, other dreams would dance the conga through her mind, but none would have the staying power of that horrifying vision.
When Chihiro awoke in the morning, her bed was damp and sweet smelling. Once more, she had proven weak, and he had protected her. It had been long since she gazed on his face. Was he disappointed in her weakness, and that was why he did not stay?
"What have I lost that I must find?"
Nothing answered her waking query, but the sun streaming in her window seemed to pat her shoulder in reassurance.