A Memory of the Past : The Burden of the Scroll-Keepers
Land of Rain. Ten Years Ago.
Loosely held back by a pink ribbon, her mother's hair were cascading over her shoulders, as blond as linen flocks. The sunlight shining through the round kitchen window illuminated her hair, making it look like a halo of golden light. The smell of the herbs was filling the air, and Asuka could see the dark puffs of smoke billowing from the concoction on the stovetop. She tilted her head with curiosity.
"Are you a witch, mom?"
The villagers spoke of her mother with fear and suspicion, spreading rumors of her performing strange rituals in the dead of night. Some even claimed to have seen her dancing with the crows that flocked to her garden, while others swore that they had heard her whispering to the silent trees that surrounded their home. Evil, wicked witch. She'll curse us all.
Her mother stopped chopping the herbs that they'd collected this morning. Her lips formed a thin line. Her slender fingers slowly put down the knife on the cutting board, and she turned to face her daughter. Her gaze was sharper than the knife's blade as she answered. "Don't listen to whatever nonsense the villagers are saying, Asuka."
The girl nodded. She popped a wolfberry in her mouth, and the fruit's sweet juice exploded on her tongue.
"What are you making?"
Her mother's lips lifted up into a small smile. Humming softly, her gaze trailed over the scroll beside the stovetop. "It's a concoction of herbs whose recipe has been in my clan for generations," she explained. "I'm infusing some of my chakra into it. Like this, it will acquire healing properties."
Asuka watched with awe as her mother's hand glowed with a soft light, while her fingers formed a strange sign over the cauldron. She wanted to learn the trick. And maybe that way, the other girls at the academy would be impressed, and they'd want to play with her. She could prove to them that her family wasn't actually cursed. That their house, even though shrouded in vines and ivy, wasn't making any strange or eerie sounds within its walls. And that their garden, wild and untamed, wasn't poisonous. At ten years-old, Asuka desperately wanted to fit in. But the rumors surrounding their family, especially their mother's odd behavior, wasn't helping. So if she could just-
As she tried to grab the scroll to quickly take a look at it, her mother swiftly pulled it out of her reach, on one of the kitchen's higher shelves between the pots of dried flowers. The girl pouted, and disappointment overflowed her.
Her mother shook her head. "You're still too young, my little bird."
"But I've already learned the clan's rituals," she huffed. "And my teacher said that my healing skills were above the class's average!"
Her mother's soft chuckled reached her ears. "Just be patient. When you're old enough, you'll inherit all of my clan's scrolls. They've been traditionally passed down to the clan's daughters for generations."
Asuka's eyes widened with excitement. She climbed on the kitchen stool, eager to learn more about her family's ancient practices.
"Only the girls? Why?" she asked.
"I don't know the reason, but the clan's daughters have always been incredibly gifted at the Art of Healing."
The Art of Healing. Her mother spoke of it with a deep respect which made her hesitant to repeat the words aloud, as if she didn't have the right or the merit. Not yet. Asuka stared at her hands – at those frail fingers that barely had the strength to punch the training dummies during the classes. She felt intimidated by her mother's solemn look, and her eyes lowered down to the floor. A hand softly tilted her chin up.
"One day, the scrolls will be under your protection, Asuka. Promise me that you'll look after them."
Asuka knew exactly which scrolls her mother was referring to – the two beautiful, intricately designed scrolls that were always carefully kept into a heavily-sealed chest. Whenever she'd pass by the living room, she'd be inevitably drawn by the old chest in the room's corner. Weathered by the passage of time, its surface was marred with scratches and dents, and the once-vibrant paint had faded to a muted, mottled brown. She could sense the weight of history pressing down upon it, containing an ancestral legacy that hung like a shroud over their family.
Even though still a bit young to understand the full complexity of her mother's request, the girl had a strong feeling, a premonition, that the list of contenders for the role of protector of the scrolls was dwindling. Her mother had never voiced it explicitly, but her words were often laden with melancholy as she spoke of the matter, as if the members of her clan were mere phantoms of a distant, forgotten time.
"I promise, mom." She gulped down a lump of hesitation. "I'll keep them safe, always."
Her mother's whole body seemed to relax, as if a weight had been lifted off her frail stature. "Thank you, my little bird." A faint smile stretched her lips, a sense of peace settling over her. "Now, can you fetch your brother for me? Tell him that we'll be ready to eat dinner."
Asuka happily accepted the task, eager to tell her twin brother about all the new things she'd learned from their mother today.