Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Nurarihyon no Mago
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Rihan: Reminiscence (part I)
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On rainy days, he would go out searching for the sound of a bamboo flute, her voice, and a branch of yamabuki flowers. Days, weeks, months, years… before he knew it, this vain search of his had continued for almost a hundred years already.
At the old and half-broken corridor, sitting and leaning against a weathered wooden column, was Nura Rihan. With an absent golden eye he watched the thin smoke rose from his pipe in lazy swirl to meet the falling rain outside. Save for the sorrowful cry of the sky all was quiet. Not a sound was heard in this run-down and deserted house.
How many hundreds and thousands of times had he visited this place? How many thousands and ten thousands of times had he disappointed himself for coming, knowing already that he would never find her here? How many ten thousands and hundred thousands of times would he repeat the impossible hope before he could give up, accept the truth, and let go?
The answer was simple. He wouldn't give up, he wouldn't accept, and he wouldn't let go.
Some day… One day, surely, they would meet again.
Until that day came, he would come here to wait, and to remember those precious times that they had together for as long as he could, for as long as he lived.
Feeling the bamboo flute kept inside his kimono with a hand, Rihan recalled the time they first met. That day… it was raining just like today…
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Just when he managed to give Kubinashi a slip, it rained and, as luck would have it, it rained hard.
Taking shelter under a large tree, Rihan wrung water out of his soaked kimono and shook it. He frowned at the damp, wrinkly cloth, shrugged, then loosely pulled it on again. Such a perfect day to wear his favorite kimono out, not to mention that this was the one that his mother had made for him, too.
He looked up at the sky and sighed. The rain would continued for quite a few hours and be it this tree or other trees, they wouldn't serve as a decent shelter enough for that long time. But then, this was such a remote place that he couldn't expect – not even hope – that there would be such things as houses or huts around.
He was about to resign to the fate of becoming a drenched scarecrow of an ayakashi when he heard it. A faint sound of…music?
At first he thought he had imagined it since the sound was lost in the hard rain, but then he could hear it after that again, and again.
Was it possible that someone's out there? Humans? Yokai? But whatever they might be, it's possible that there's a better shelter than this.
Rihan considered his options – to go out into the rain again or stay here and become wet anyway with all the water drip-dropping on him.
If I'm going to be wet either way then I might as well go out and see where this sound comes from.
Rushing into the cold grayness once more, he listened for the sound and headed toward it.
Sometimes it felt close and when he got closer, it felt further. Yet, when he moved further from it, it became more distinct as thought he had gotten close.
He must have wandered in circles for quite a while and, frustrated and angry, he was about to give up when he caught sight of a small yokai mouse with a twig of yellow flowers held in its mouth running toward the thicker part of the forest.
Instinct told him to follow and he did, quietly and carefully. He recognized the flower and was surprised to see it. This was not its season but the flowers bloomed such a brilliant gold that it seemed even more beautiful than those that he had seen during its peak season.
The sound of music was growing clearer and clearer. It was the sound of a bamboo flute and the voice of a young woman. The song was one that he had heard his mother had sung for him long, long ago. Her voice was sweet and gentle as cherry blossoms but this woman's voice… her voice was like the whisper of water over rocks, the murmur of wind among leaves. It was beautiful, and so ethereal that it left not a trace of memory behind as it glided along the lone melody of the flute.
He was lost so deep in the music that he nearly lost track of the yokai mouse he had been following.
The mouse had stopped in front of a pine tree and after looking left and right, making sure that no one had followed it, it turned into the form of a boy with mouse ears and tail.
Rihan's eye narrowed. If he wasn't the son of Nurarihyon and so skilled a yokai, he probably wouldn't be able to tell there's a subtle barrier of 'Fear' around this place. This wasn't one of those strong barriers that prevented intruders from entering but one that was to lead strangers away while hiding its presence almost completely. What was most strange about it was that it was created by a single ayakashi who most likely spent years and years weaving fine threads upon finer threads to make this barrier of Fear.
The sopping wet mouse yokai looked around him one more time. Then, reaching out, with the flower sprig in his hand, he drew a straight line down as though cutting the air.
Rihan's eye widened as he watched the flowers disappeared and, in its place, a thin yellow line was formed. The yokai parted the line as one would to curtains and went inside.
How could he call himself his father's son and the Second of the Nura clan if he didn't take that opportunity and slipped in with the little mouse? Naturally, he followed that yokai in. Naturally, the yokai was unaware.
What appeared before him then, and where the little yokai sped quickly to, was an old, run-down mansion that looked very much occupied and lived in by ayakashi.
Here, the music that had attracted him and made him come all this way could be heard so clearly that it felt as though he was being enveloped by it, drowning in it.
Could the ayakashi that played the flute and sang this song be the type that lured people in using their music? If that's the case then why bothered putting up a barrier?
The only way to find out is to go in, isn't it? I'm cold enough as is. Maybe I should borrow their bath while I'm at it.
He did get to use the bath. What he didn't expect, however, was that he would find out more than he had supposed, and that he would become a frequent visitor after.
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