Seriously, wasn’t it just June yesterday?
This year has seemingly flown by, particularly the last few months. Already, I’m looking forward to the Guildpact previews in January and scouring the forums for interesting concepts in Red/Blue, White/Black, and Red/Green. I originally thought that my holiday article would revolve around some sort of festive deck. Obviously, Red/Green fits the bill here. Who can resist a fun theme deck? As I looked at the cards, however, a deck didn’t arise. Something else did. What came out of my musings was something completely different.
I felt a creative urge overtake me.
Uh oh.
Did you ever do those puzzles growing up that had pictures hidden within pictures? They were always in the back of Highlights magazine for me. I’m not even sure if those are still printed, but I loved those things. Well, the something else that arose was a story. All of these Standard card names I was examining just fell into place. I don’t know how many of them you’ll recognize, but I know that each time through I seemed to find another one–and honestly, had I tried, I could have fit even more in. I had to physically restrain myself. No, seriously.
I hope you enjoy the story.
Sachi, Daughter of Seshiro, crept through the forest with revenge in her eyes. “Those darn Brothers Yamazaki, I’ll show them,” she thought. “Threaten me, will they? Well, once I lure them into my trap, they’ll think twice about calling me names again.” Knowing they took the same route home every day from the farm, she was confident that her guerrilla tactics would work. Seeing a likely spot for her ambush from the treetops, she climbed into the overgrowth and waited patiently for them to arrive.
She wasn’t disappointed. Soon, she heard the Brothers approaching. They didn’t see Sachi hiding in the dense canopy. She waited until they passed beneath her, and then began her relentless assault, unleashing an endless swarm of acorns at the Brothers. “Stop! Stop! Whoever you are, stop!” they cried. Sachi couldn’t hold back any longer, erupting into laughter that they easily recognized. “Sachi! We’ll get you for this!”
“You have to catch me first,” she taunted, reaching into her pack for another acorn to throw. Suddenly, the tree shuddered as the Brothers tried to shake her down. Sachi snorted. “You need to be stronger than that to uproot me! Last time I checked, you..AAAH!” To her chagrin, while the tree remained stalwart, the branch she was perched on did not. Her weight and the vibrations had caused it to shatter.
She fell to the ground, her carefully hoarded arsenal scattering around her. Gathering her senses, she looked up and saw two very angry Brothers staring down at her. The tide of war had changed. As they picked up the fallen acorns to use against her, she smiled nervously. “Time to go, fellas.” With unnatural speed, she scrambled to her feet and made her escape.
Sachi dashed through the woods heedlessly, bursting through the unchecked growth with the Brothers close behind her. As she exploded into the clearing near their homes, a figure suddenly loomed before her. Sachi shrieked, stumbling to a stop. Her finely honed reflexes had enabled her to avoid the figure, but weren’t enough to prevent the Brothers from running into her back. The three of them went down in a tangle of limbs and curses.
Their noises of displeasure were soon interrupted. “Children!” said the woman they’d nearly run over, fixing them with a glare of subdual. “I hope the three of you are quite done trying to sideswipe me.” The children separated themselves and hastily stood, brushing off their tunics and mumbling apologies. “Yes, elder. Sorry, elder. Please forgive us, elder.” They lowered their eyes. “Oh, don’t go overboard,” the woman laughed. “I swear, the more mischief you get into, the more apologetic you are, and it doesn’t stop you one whit from doing it again the next time your elders aren’t around.”
“We’ll be more careful next time we’re playing,” Sachi said. The Brothers nodded their agreement.
“I suppose I have to believe you,” the elder said, eyes twinkling. “But you should be careful. You know what time of year it is.”
Sachi nodded. “Yes, elder. It’s Brightflame season, when we celebrate the day of renewal.” She smiled, sharing a look with the Brothers, whose faces also broke into grins. “We’ve been looking forward to opening our gifts and gathering at the utopia tree.”
The elder snorted. “You’ll be lucky if you get any if you keep running over old ladies. Remember what happens to bad children?” Sachi rolled her eyes. “Yes. If we’re bad, Zo-Zu the Punisher comes and leaves us salt in our Brightflame baskets.” The old lady shook her head. “You shouldn’t be so dismissive of our past,” she admonished the young girl. “I’ve worked quite extensively studying the old scrolls. You might say I’m a bit of a historian. Zo-Zu was real, children, and if you ever saw him, he’d make you regret it! He’d crack the earth itself to catch you!” As the children shrieked, she sighed. “Now, now, I don’t mean to incite hysteria, but you do need to be more mindful of the Reki, the history of Kamigawa.” Sachi’s expression changed from disdain to interest. “You’re a historian?”
“Yes, child. I studied at Minamo, School at Water’s Edge.” She considered the children for a moment, and opened her mouth to say more. One of the Brothers interrupted her. “Thank you, elder. We need to be getting home for dinner, now.” They bowed respectfully, and backed away. Sachi waved farewell, receiving a pair of stuck-out tongues as a response. The Brothers scampered off.
“Well,” the elder said. “I have the feeling this isn’t the last time you three wind up chasing each other through the forest.” Sachi shrugged. “They’re not that bad. I’ve known them forever. They’re just…boys. Always doing stupid stuff.”
“Hmmph. I don’t know what it is with youngsters and their thoughts of ruin. I suppose it will always be that way. Ah well. I need to be going.” She smiled at Sachi and started to move away.
“Wait, I can walk with you!” Sachi said, with an unbecoming surge of zeal. She blushed as the elder quirked an eyebrow at her. “I mean, I’d like to know more about our past. I like stories. I bet you know a lot.”
This prompted a smile from the elder. “Well then, my young student, traveling companions should be more familiar. What is your name?”
“Sachi.”
“A pretty name. You may call me Kaho.” The elder crooked her arm for Sachi to hold onto. “Now, gather courage and attend me as I walk. There’s a congregation at dawn I don’t intend to miss.”
“What you have to realize,” she began, “is that Zo-Zu wasn’t always known by that name. In the ancient tongue, he was known as Adamaro, First to Desire. Adamaro was a fierce and proud warrior. A beloved leader of the Seven Tribes, he was renowned for his prowess. Adamaro had his virtues, such as a just hand and a vision of how to better life for he and all that followed him. However, he also had his flaws, fueled by an inner fire that made the same vision into an obsession that nearly destroyed us all.” She paused.
Sachi’s eyes widened. “Don’t stop. Tell me more, Kaho, please.” The woman chuckled. “I will, child, but there’s something I must ask you first.”
“Me? Sure, what?”
“Do you know what a biorhythm is?” Kaho asked. Sachi nodded in response. “Yes, it’s a cycle. Like sleeping and waking.”
Kaho grinned. “Exactly! Or, to use another example, our four seasons. Spring awakening, summer bloom, autumn harvest, and winter’s chill. You’ve been taught the Sekki by now, I hope.”
Sachi sighed. “Yes, I learned the seasons’ guide last year. It’s when we’re taught about the natural cycle of, well, nature.” She bit the corner of her lip. “I’m sure there’s a better way to say that.” Kaho laughed good-naturedly.
“You’re doing fine, girl. The reason I asked is because it’s important to understand that the seasons exist for a reason. They aren’t there merely to trouble us or give us a reason to change clothes. They guide the land, which in turn guides us.”
“Now, where was I? Oh yes, Adamaro’s obsession. Well, the same fire that fueled his greatness also fueled his downfall, for he fell in love with someone he should not have: Sakiko, Mother of Summer.”
“Summer doesn’t have a mother,” Sachi snorted, her brows furrowing in disbelief. “Summer just happens.”
Kaho paused for a second, turning towards Sachi with her hands knotted in fists upon her hips in mock anger. “Young girl, is this your story or mine?” Sachi blushed. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
“Well, you don’t need to be quiet,” Kaho said. “Just try to keep an open mind. Skepticism is wasted on the young.”
They began walking again. “One year, at the end of spring, Adamaro was walking in the lands around his domain. He was restless, for the heartbeat of spring beat strongly within him. It inspired him to think of growth and expansion, but there were no more tribes to unite under his banner. He had the love and respect of his people, and no one for miles around challenged his territory. Despite this, he sought more. He wasn’t content with what he saw in front of him; no, he had to seek the horizon as well. It was during this walk that he caught his first glimpse of nature.
“While exploring, Adamaro fell asleep. He woke deep in the night and began to make his way home, still lost in thought. As he did, he heard a song. Startled out of his internal reverie, he carefully drew his blade and crept towards it, unsure whether the source was friend or foe. He followed the lilting refrain to a small clearing in the forest. Astonishingly, the trees ringed the clearing in a perfect circle, though none seemed to have been cut. It was as if they did not wish to intrude upon the sanctuary.
“In the center stood a single tree, embedded in a rich and fertile loam. Its fruits were large and succulent, and he had never before seen their like. They were orange, then yellow, then green! The entire spectrum of color seemed to dance across their surface as lightly as a dryad’s caress. He started forward, entranced by the mystical fruit, but paused when he noticed what else stood there: A woman, looking much like one of his own tribemates, though he could not tell if she was Matsu, Sakura, or Kashi. Her serpent skin was vibrant and well hued, and her brown hair curled enticingly around the waist of her tunic. Her dazzling beauty enraptured him.
“She was the source of the song! As the first rays of dawn crested the horizon, he watched, captivated. Adamaro could not recollect ever beholding such a beautiful sight. After a few minutes, she slowly approached the tree, seeming oblivious to his presence. Her song grew softer, until it was barely more than a whisper. Placing her hands on the trunk of the tree, she spoke, in a low and commanding voice. ‘In the name of Sekki, Seasons’ Guide, embrace me, Sakiko. I bear summer, fruit of ardor and yearning!’
“For a moment, Adamaro thought–and perhaps it was merely hope–she was talking to him. However, she appeared to be talking to the strange tree, for it began to glimmer with the same iridescent pattern as its fruit. Her lips parted in a blissful smile as she walked towards it. The tree’s nimbus began to expand, golden and bright, until Adamaro had to shield his eyes from its brilliance. When the blinding light finally receded, he looked upon the clearing once again. While the tree was still there, Sakiko was not.”
Sachi blinked, for Kaho had stopped speaking to take a drink from her waterskin. “Did he fall in love with her?” Sachi asked. “That’s where this is going, right?” Kaho nodded, catching her breath before continuing. “Well, child, there’s some difference of opinion in the Reki here. Some people think he fell in love with her at first sight. Some think he was caught up in the spell of summer, and that he was forever forced to seek her embrace. We’ll never know. Suffice it to say that it caused a great deal of difficulty.
“Summertime is, of course, a season of great joy. It’s our festival season, when we celebrate life. It’s also a season of passion and heat, and even though we enjoy our labors, we long for the day’s work to be done and the harvest to arrive.
“Well, Adamaro longed for something, now: Sakiko. He revisited the tree nightly, but she never emerged. Every night, his obsession grew. He wanted just one more sight of her, one more fragment of her song. However, he never saw her again. When summer passed into autumn, no one entered or exited the tree. When autumn crept into winter, and winter into spring, he also had no luck. He was filled with despair, but also with anger. At one point, these feelings were strong enough to overwhelm him; certain he would never see Sakiko again, he had a panic attack and wept for a day and a night. His followers were worried; when had the strong Adamaro been reduced to such tears? What could be the reason for his perilous forays into the jungle each night, when he returned empty-handed and recalcitrant?
“When he emerged from his tent, his tears were dry. Adamaro appeared calm and resolved, which pleased the villagers that saw him. Indeed, he was, but rather than being cured of his heart’s malady, it had coalesced into something more dangerous.
“He journeyed to the house of a village elder. This man, a follower of the mystical path of Budoka, had known Adamaro since before his rise to power, and had been able to offer advice and magical assistance on numerous occasions. His cave was often filled with those who wished to pursue the same path of wisdom and enlightenment.
“When Adamaro knocked, a budoka gardener answered the door. ‘Welcome to the house of Kumano, Master Yamabushi. May your path be laden with leaves.’ Adamaro smiled. ‘I am here to seek Kumano’s blessing for a project I wish to undertake that will involve his expertise with gardening.’ The groundskeeper showed him into Kumano’s chamber, and the elder greeted him warmly. ‘What brings you here, Adamaro? I have noticed your troubled heart. Perhaps you should take up a rake and cultivate peace.’
“Adamaro smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Confident in his ambition, he unburdened himself to Kumano, describing what he saw and the love that filled his heart for Sakiko. The old man was sympathetic, but did not see how he could help. ‘What you have seen is wonderful,’ Kumano responded. ‘Would that I could have been part of it.’
“Adamaro’s eyes brightened. ‘I have realized,’ he said, ‘that I have gone about this all wrong. To win the heart of Sakiko, I must bring her to me, and tend her as best I can. When she sees the effort that I have undergone on her behalf, she will know the undying flames of my love, and consent to be mine.’ He leaned towards Kumano conspiratorially. ‘It is for that reason I need the assistance of you and your gardeners, old friend, for I shall relocate her tree to my chambers and there I shall cultivate love itself.’
“Kumano gasped, his eyes widened in shock. ‘Adamaro, you don’t know of what you speak. That tree is part of our cycle of life! We cannot transgress against nature in such a way. I cannot bless such an undertaking. You must rethink this path and find some other way to fulfill your desires.’
“Adamaro, not accustomed to being thwarted, leaped to his feet, filled with uncontrollable anger. ‘I will have her!’ he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. ‘With or without your help.’ He stormed from Kumano’s chambers, colliding with a budoka pupil and causing him to scatter the seeds he was carrying upon the floor. Disturbed, the student ran into Kumano’s chambers. ‘Master Yamabushi! What happened? What is wrong?’
“Kumano shook his head and rumbled gravely, ‘The beginning of something terrible, I fear.’
“Blind with anger, Adamaro gathered some of his most loyal vassals to follow him into the forest. Soon, he was able to find the site of the tree. ‘Careful,’ he said, still treating the tree with reverence. ‘Cut around its roots, and free it from the soil. My desire will suffice where Kumano’s will and friendship falter.’
After much effort, their tools cut the earthly bond and extricated the tree from the ground. As they placed it in the wagon, Adamaro noticed that the fruits seemed to take on a dull sheen, but he attributed this to a trick of the light. When they returned to his chambers, they replaced it in the earth.”
Sachi interrupted. “You can do that? With a tree that large?” Kaho chuckled. “Oh yes, child. For a collection of non-gardeners, it really wasn’t a bad job, to be honest. However, this wasn’t just any tree.” Her smile disappeared. “Not just any tree at all.”
She continued. “Now, then as we do now, we mostly live underground, where it’s safest. We use the shelters nature has provided for us. Adamaro’s chambers were in the largest cavern in the village, thankfully, or the tree wouldn’t have fit. I shudder to think what might have happened if he’d had to cut it down to size.” Kaho grimaced in distaste. “As you know from our underground gardens, there’s a number of tunnels in the rock that direct nourishing sunlight into the chambers. Adamaro had one of them widened, and his intent was to keep the tree as healthy as it was when he discovered it.
“Well, to a point Adamaro had succeeded, in that he replanted the tree successfully in the soil of our caves, and to his credit tried very hard to nurture it. However, he had subverted nature’s will. Having lost its connection to its native earth, the tree had begun to die, although the warlord did not realize it. It had gained magic and life from the loam in which it grew.
“Our land’s biorhythm had been altered. Time passed, but the seasons did not change. Crops grew and thickened until they nearly choked the land in search of sustenance. The grasses and vines were not lush, but hysterical and yearning for release from their rampant growth. After a few months, the villagers were forced to attempt a weird harvest, but the food never ripened fully and was unpleasant to eat. A few months after that, a strange inversion took place and filled their caves with the stench of decay and rancid earth.
“Still, amazingly, the villagers were accustomed to absolute trust in Adamaro. He had never failed them before, and thus a large number were prepared to wait out the year’s strangeness. As they waited, so did Adamaro. Sakiko never appeared, which seemed only to enrage him further. He drew more and more irascible, and his eyes would blaze with fury at the slightest perceived doubt of his will. He began to surround himself with dubious advisors. Eventually, some of the villagers began to seek solace from the budoka, asking for their wisdom and advice as they had so many times before. ‘Something must be done,’ they said. ‘This suffering must end.’
“One of the villagers that was loyal to Adamaro, Fumiko the Lowblood, brought news of the whisperings of betrayal. ‘After all I have done,’ Adamaro raged, ‘they would twist allegiance from me to these rebellious monks? Well, I will not allow them to sunder from within. We will do something about them immediately.’ Even lost in the anguish of his unfulfilled desires, Adamaro was still a just man. He informed the budoka that they were no longer welcome in the community and must leave within the week. The warriors at his side quelled any potential arguments by the villagers. The budoka quietly informed Adamaro that they would take it into consideration, and retreated into their spiritual sanctuary for discussion.
“After much consideration and debate, they realized that for the greater good, they would have to restore the tree by force and end Adamaro’s reign. They would attack at the next full moon, three days hence. They were committed; now, all were ensnared in the web of war. To allay Adamaro’s suspicions, they told him they would leave.
“Thus, when the fateful night came, the first volley caught Adamaro by surprise. ‘Rally the horde!’ he cried, trying to instill furor in his warriors. ‘We’ll smash these traitors and seed the land with their blood and bones!’ Shouting, he leaped into the fray. Blows rained upon his blanchwood armor, deflecting harmlessly aside. He fought like a man possessed. Perhaps he was, the fury born of unrequited obsession filling him with the strength of cedars.
“Kumano had not raised a blade in many years, but his years of experience more than made up for it. He led his budoka against the battle-mad ronin. ‘Adamaro!’ he cried. ‘Come to your senses! We must restore the natural balance!’ Adamaro, however, was lost in a devouring rage, and paid little heed to his former friend’s words. His sword crashed against Kumano’s, and the two of them battled long and hard. However, as time passed, the crushing pain of Adamaro’s strikes wore Kumano down. As the monk grew more defensive, the warlord seemed to grow stronger.
“Kumano, knowing reason had failed, knew he could not best Adamaro physically. His only resort was his magic. With great cunning, he sought to reroute the battle from the village to a nearby cavern. Feigning cowardice, he allowed himself to be backed further and further towards the cave opening, enduring Adamaro’s attacks. Then, with a surge of strength that Adamaro was not prepared for, Kumano counterattacked and pivoted, driving the warlord back into the cave. His physical strength failed him quicker than he anticipated however, and he slipped on the loose dirt. Adamaro kicked the monk’s sword away and stood over him. ‘I’m sorry you did not believe in me, old friend,’ he said to Kumano.
“‘Me, too,’ Kumano replied, and spoke a single phrase of magic.
“‘Jiwari, the earth aflame.’
“The ground beneath them erupted in chaos as a savage gout of dirt and flame sundered the earth. Kumano rolled away, yelling as he felt the inferno char his flesh.
“Adamaro tried to dodge the rain of embers, but the eruptions of the seismic spike continued around him. The onslaught of Yamabushi’s flame melted his armor and shook the cave entrance to its foundations. Suddenly, the opening cracked, and with a cry of dismay, Adamaro disappeared under a torrent of stone, the sudden impact crushing the life from him.
“As the battle reached its fiery conclusion, Kumano dragged himself to his feet, stumbling back towards the village. Bereft of their leader, a number of the warriors and sell-sword brutes that had rallied to Adamaro’s side decided they’d had enough and ran for the hills in a gnarled mass of limbs and steel.
“‘Master Yamabushi,’ one of the budoka called out. ‘One of the warriors we captured knows the location the tree came from. He was part of the group that dug it up.’
“Kumano responded grimly. ‘Then let us take him and hasten to it. It may already be too late.’
“It was. When Kumano and the followers that had accompanied him arrived, they found Sakiko sitting there, staring absently at the center of the clearing. Her molting skin had eroded much of her beauty. As she saw the intruders, she stood, and moved slowly towards them. Kumano wept at the shambling shell before him.
“‘I am sorry,’ he said, choking on the words. ‘I am so sorry for your pain. What can we do to save you?’
“‘I am beyond regeneration, loyal one’, she said. ‘And I know it is not you who must apologize. I felt the gaze of Adamaro upon me when he first saw me, and knew the desire in his heart. Perhaps had I acknowledged him, this might have been averted, but it was not.’ She drew a ragged breath.
“Kumano kneeled before her. ‘We can take you to the tree. Won’t that restore you?’ His mind cast about for solutions. ‘We can bring it back here! Will that heal your pain?’
“Sakiko shook her head wearily. Every exertion seemed to tire her further. ‘I cannot leave this spot. I am bound to it by the same magics with which Sekki guides the turning of the heavens. If it had been done soon after this assault took place, perhaps. The utopia tree and I are irrevocably bonded until death, and I can sense it. It is dying, as am I. The loam that was the genesis of my fruit grows sterile and dry, and just as I would not survive the journey to your village, so would the tree not survive a return journey here. The stress would wear away what little power remains within either of us.’
“‘At summer’s beginning, I renew the bond with the utopia tree and my essence is diffused into the heavens. I then journey for many months, my essence slowly coalescing until I return to the tree to birth the cycle once more.’ At this, she coughed, causing Kumano to hastily stand and rush towards her. Sakiko forestalled him with a hand, gathering herself for her final words. ‘As your kind has created this unnatural cycle, so must your kind end it. As with the seasons, life and death are a cycle that all of us experience. Through my death, another can take my place; through one cycle, another is restored. Who will sacrifice themselves to take my place, and bind themselves to the land?’
“Some of the budoka shuffled nervously, and a few of Kumano’s most advanced students looked prepared to commit themselves. He held up his hand. ‘No, my pupils. I have lived a long and fruitful life. Now, I will sow what I have reaped.’ He bowed in front of Sakiko. ‘What must I do, honored one?’
“She leaned towards him, and pressed her lips gently upon Kumano’s forehead. For a moment, the monks saw a radiant gold and green circle imprinted there, but their attention to it quickly faded as Sakiko swayed. Kumano caught her in his arms as she fell, and gently lowered her to the ground. ‘I have placed the Mark of Sakiko on you,’ she said quietly. ‘Gather as much loam as you can carry, for without it the tree shall not grow. Infuse it with your love of the earth. Enter the tree; it will recognize your mark and bind itself to you. Hurry, before it is too late.’ She breathed one last time before becoming still, her torment finally ended.
“Kumano and the budoka rushed back to the village, and hastened to Adamaro’s chambers. What they saw discouraged them greatly. The tree was covered in creeping mold; its limbs had begun to putrefy. The branches had begun to splinter and crack. ‘I hope we have arrived in time to save it,” Kumano said, “and to right this offense against nature.’
“Kumano’s pupils readied the chamber for their desperate ritual. Hurriedly but cautiously, they removed the old soil, exposing the roots and surrounding them as best they could with the hardening loam from the forest. Planting their wooden staves in the loam, they channeled their power and prayers, attempting to reclaim its spirit in their time of need.
“Kumano walked towards the tree, knowing somehow what he needed to do. The mark on his forehead blazoned into life, bathing the tree and the surrounding monks in a cleansing beam of light. As with Adamaro before, the monks were forced to turn away from the radiance of the magical fire, covering their eyes until the glow was diminished.
“When they could see once more, Kumano was gone, and the utopia tree was renewed. The tree’s limbs were smooth and whole, and its fruits were already blossoming again in front of them. The soil once again was full of vigor and life. The natural balance had been restored. One of the monks, Dosan, smiled. ‘Let’s hope for an early harvest this year.’
“They had succeeded, but their challenge was not finished. The villagers enjoyed the return of autumn, but it did not last long. Winter came too quickly, and was fiercer than ever. The unearthly blizzard raged like never before. Gale force winds drove the villagers deep into their caves. Due to the abnormal harvests, their food supplies were low, and people began to panic. They turned to Dosan, who had assumed a role of responsibility after Kumano’s transformation.
“‘We are worried,’ they said to Dosan. ‘Master Yamabushi’s storm threatens to starve us all.’
“‘Do not worry,’ he said. ‘The world needs to naturalize itself once more. Every night, I pray with my budoka, and I know nature is angry with us for violating it as we did. Do not let nature’s wrath demoralize us. We must be patient, as it has been with us before.’
“Dosan’s words proved wise. His words were seeds of strength for the villagers, and guided them through the lean times. Where there was doubt, he was a beacon of renewed faith. He led the villagers in prayers and chants, rebuilding the community that had been fractured by disharmony. He knew it would take time for the tribes to become whole. ‘Stay true,’ he said. ‘We will be forgiven.’
“In time, they were. One day, one of the budoka looked out of his cave and realized the maddening wind had stopped, and that the sun was warmer and brighter. On the branch of a nearby tree he saw a small pink blossom–the first harbinger of spring. The villagers rejoiced. While they were afraid at first it would prove to be as short as the autumn had been, it was not. Finally, the unnatural seasons were over; a natural spring had arrived.”
Kaho’s narration ended, and Sachi blinked at the sudden appearance of a cave mouth in front of her. Apparently, they’d walked the entire way to Kaho’s destination. Sachi looked around her as realization began to dawn. “Wait a second. This is the Brightflame cave, but it’s still a couple of weeks away. Why are we here?”
Kaho’s nose crinkled in delight. “Why, every summer we gather around the utopia tree to celebrate Brightflame. Why do you think we do that?”
Sachi gaped. “No way. That can’t be the tree.”
“Why not?” the elder shrugged. “How often do you come here?” Sachi pondered. “Just once a year, when we all gather to celebrate. The rest of the time, the budoka conclave tends the tree and the gardens inside. It’s sacred. No one’s really allowed to go in there and disturb their work.”
Kaho winked. “We don’t hold the ceremony on the same day as Kumano’s arrival because we don’t want anyone to repeat Adamaro’s mistake. People complained at first, but over time it grew from a history into a legend, and now those of us that remember don’t really see the need to proclaim it to the village.”
The young girl was obviously lost in thought, trying to make sense of this revelation. She was shocked at the clash of realities. “But why not? Wouldn’t it honor Kumano?”
“Kumano is no more, and personal glory isn’t the way of the budoka,” Kaho said. “What we celebrate on Brightflame is our love of nature and existence in unison with it. What matters is that we continue that legacy of peace. Plus,” she added, “No one would believe us anyway. What people know of Kumano is more of a myth than reality to them. A story to inspire, just like Zo-Zu is a story to discipline.”
“Wait a second,” Sachi said. “Speaking of that, where did Zo-Zu come from? Didn’t Adamaro die in the cave-in?”
“Here again, Reki differs,” Kaho explained. “See how it happens? I’m a historian, and even I don’t know the complete truth. Anyway, some accounts say that he perished in the cave. However, some others say that he didn’t die at all. As he watched the stone rain down and the searing touch of the spiraling embers scoured his flesh, he realized that the explosion did not demolish the cave entrance completely. Injured beyond comprehension and seeking only to flee and heal, he ran through the breach and into the dark heart of the wood, where he lay near death for many days.
“Somehow, perhaps by virtue of his indomitable will, he survived. Though the wildfire had faded into the recent past, he found that its effects had not. He had become an ashen monstrosity. His skin was burned and scarred, his features twisted and malformed. No longer did he possess the might of oaks; his strength had been riven from his gnarled limbs. His just nature was perverted, and he became consumed by a desire for righteous vengeance. He avenged his disgrace by sowing salt across the land, attempting to destroy that which he saw as responsible for his downfall–nature itself and its refusal to bend to his will. Rejecting his people and who he once was, he took the name ‘Zo-Zu’, which means ‘painbringer’ in the ancient tongue. From a respected leader to little more than an anarchist trying to harm people who wish to share in nature’s bounty. It’s sad.”
Sachi made a wry grimace. “Well, that explains the salt in the baskets. I don’t like that so much anymore. But, it certainly explains a lot. Is there more?”
“Not much to like about not respecting life,” agreed Kaho, “but I’m afraid this story’s ended.” She paused for a second. “You know, Sachi, despite your penchant for picking on boys, you seem to have a natural affinity for learning. I don’t suppose you’d like to visit me more often and hear more stories?”
The little girl’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to! And, I really don’t pick on the boys too much, they’re just stupid sometimes. I’ll try to be better, I promise.”
“Then come with me. I have something I’d like to show you.” The historian motioned for Sachi to follow her, and the two of them entered the cave. Two monks were stationed there, and they bowed respectfully. “Behold the Conclave,” they stated. “Welcome, Kaho, Minamo Historian. We have been expecting you.” Kaho smiled and bowed in return. “This year, I have brought my assistant, Sachi, daughter of Seshiro” she said. “It is time for me to begin passing on the stories of our past.” Sachi grinned, elated at her new relationship.
The humble budoka guided them into the main chamber. The cave was well lit by lanterns interspersed among the sunlight streaming in from various angles, creating a web of light. The entire effect was breathtaking, with miniature gardens arranged artfully around the center gathering area.
A number of monks were working on small crafts or chores, yet there was very little noise. There was a feeling of gentleness in every interaction. “This is where the enshrined memories of our people are maintained. Some of the monks dedicate themselves to scribing scrolls of wisdom. These transluminants commune with nature and study the word of the Lifespinner and dedicate themselves to understanding how better to coexist with nature and all that is around us. They hope to ascend to a higher state of being. Through such dedication to wisdom, we are guided.”
Beneath one particularly large sunbeam was the tree that was the centerpiece of their Brightflame celebration. Sachi looked at it with newly awakened eyes and senses. She could almost feel the verdant force emanating from it.
“Behold the utopia tree,” Kaho said. “We gather here each year to and remember the lesson we learned from Adamaro’s folly: Inner calm, outer strength. It is untamed desire and emotion that wreak havoc; such is the path of anger’s flame. It is tranquility and joyous respite that brings us peace.”
“I feel it!” exclaimed Sachi. “It’s so stro…do you hear that?” Kaho merely grinned.
Sachi’s eyes widened as she realized the chorus of the Conclave was singing Dosan’s oldest chant softly around them. It slowly built to a crescendo, echoing in the cave until it seemed to fill all of her senses with veneration. As the chant ended, a monk approached with a small basket in hand, and winked at Kaho. He held it out to Sachi. “It’s a couple of weeks early, but one of our students thought you were pretty, and wanted to give you an early lifegift.” Sachi’s face turned red as she lowered her head. “Tell him thank you, please. I’m honored.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she tried to see if any of the budoka were watching, but she couldn’t tell. Smiling to no one in particular, she opened the basket. Inside, she beheld a carven caryatid. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It looks so real!” The monks smiled. “It has a bit of magic in it, as well. It’s made of an ancient wood. As the seasons pass and the earth cools, the wood in your hands will warm. It helps provide comfort during the coldest winter’s night.”
“It’s a precious gift, child,” Kaho interjected. “Treasure it. I’ll have to tell you more about the old wood it comes from sometime.”
Sachi’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I will,” she said, “always.” She clutched the carving in her hand and looked upon the utopia tree. “I bet tonight is the night he comes.”
“He might, dear. If you were here, and you were lucky enough to remain awake at dawn, you might see him. Even if you don’t, however, he still brings us the same gift he does every year: the warmth and joy of our favorite season.”
“Except that it doesn’t fit in a basket,” Sachi commented.
“No dear. No, it doesn’t.”
-mason
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