Hanami: 花見, "flower viewing"
the Japanese traditional custom of enjoying the transient beauty of flowers; flowers ("hana") almost always referring to those of the cherry ("sakura") The practice of hanami is many centuries old. The custom is said to have started during the Nara period (710–794) When poems would be written praising the delicate flowers, which were seen as a metaphor for life itself, luminous and beautiful yet fleeting and ephemeral.
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Spring had returned to Inari’s mountain. The lower slopes were cloaked in the verdant green of new-sprung bamboo, while on the upper shoulders the cherry trees that shared their altitude with the temple complex, were showing tight green buds on their bare branches. The gnarled ancient cherry tree that twisted it roots among the rocks of the hot-spring onsen or bathing house, even had tiny flecks of pale pink showing at the tips of the buds through like the shoulders of a geisha girl peaking out from her kimono.
Paul sighed as he leaned back in the steaming mineral and magic laden waters. Spring was well and truly on it’s way, even though patches of sullen snow skulked in the shadows and around the bases of the trees in the shadow depths of the forest. Spring, bringing new life… and unfortunately, new problems.
“You know… there’s a phrase in English that fits this situation.” He remarked.
Inari who was lounging nearby, her eyes closed, but nominally awake and with a tray of sake floating within arms reach, lifted her head, opening one golden eye as she peered at Paul.
“And what would that be, my Herald? Enlighten me.”
Paul snorted, amused at the idea of him enlightening the only existent Kami or Goddess of the fifth rank.
“We’re victims of our own success.”
Inari opened both eyes, sitting up a bit as Paul hastily averted his eyes. He had yet to acclimatise to the notion of mixed bathing, and the steam from the volcanic waters did little to hide Inari’s lithe body with it’s fulsome curves.
“Explain please? In what way are we ‘victims’ of our success?”
Paul sighed, and reaching out a long arm, snagged the tray. Pulling it closer he poured himself some sake into the shallow dish-like cup, and sipped that before answering.
Inari folded her arms across her breasts, having noticed Paul deliberately not noticing them, one long slender finger with a talon like nail painted red tapping against her bicep as she waited. After a sliver of a moment to compose himself and marshal his thoughts into an orderly queue, Paul replied.
“I was thinking about your schedule, and mine, and how our duties seem to grow exponentially every day, multiplying like gremlins.”
“Gremlins?”
Paul cocked an eyebrow, glancing in Inari’s direction and reading the puzzled expression on her face.
“Huh… nice to know that particular bit of mythology is unfamiliar to you. I think I’d finally lose it if it turned out those were real. Never mind though, I meant the list of things we need to do seems to be never ending and ever expanding. I don’t know about you, but my to-do list seems to be growing faster than I can hack it back down to a reasonable length.”
Inari slid back down until the waters met her delicate chin, a frown marring her features as she nodded slightly, her expressive eyes growing dark and troubled.
“We do seem to be beset, yes. But if I recall, that’s always been the way for Kami, in the past. ”
“Really not surprising I suppose… you would think that humanity would’ve learnt to do without them in their long absence though?”
Inari shrugged, sending ripples spreading outwards.
“Perhaps. And perhaps not… people are still adjusting to the return of magic. It is only natural they’d ask for expert advice when they have problems they are unused to.”
“I suppose, and they see us as experts I guess. Although if I have to wrestle another Kappa I’m going to refer them to the Wildlife and Fisheries people..”
Inari chuckled musically.
“I would prefer that, You smelt of fish for days afterwards. Although it was a Hyōsube since it was hairy too.”
Paul sighed, muttering; “I really wish I had a whose who and what’s what of Japanese mythology.”
Inari laughed, and using a foot, nudged the wooden tray with it’s cargo of sake bottle and cups back towards herself.
“Is it really correct, oh wordsmith, to call them myths, when you have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that yokai are real?”
Paul shrugged.
“Real is a subjective term nowadays, but they do seem to be popping out of the woodwork rather a lot lately. I know most are harmless, even beneficial, but…”
Inari nodded, her expression sobering.
“Yes… there is that ‘but’. Not all of them are so, although even the more troublesome will listen to you my Herald.”
Paul nodded.
“Listen yes… mostly. There are those that won’t or can’t listen to reason, and those few take up an unreasonable amount of time. Like that spirit tiger…”
Inari nodded slowly. Kochi prefecture had asked for assistance with a ‘haunted’ forest that had turned out to be the home of Spirit Tiger that had been revived from the barest echo by the prefecture government activating the newly installed mana convertor network.
It had not been particularly pleased to discover residential apartments where there had once been forests, and it had not been amiable to being reasoned with either. In end it had taken the combined efforts of Inari and Kiko to subdue the spirit animal, forcing it to take on a more human aspect that could at least be talked to. After which Paul had brokered a agreement between the ancient, and still rather cranky, spirit of the land, and the regional government. The Spirit tiger got a nature preserve, and the government got supernatural help with land management and conservation… not to mention a pretty heavy stick to enforce the rules regarding land use.
Inari sighed.
“There are still not enough hours in the day…”
“Or not enough people to help at least. I know Kiko, and Katsu are helping where they can but..”
Inari nodded.
“They are new to being Goddesses, and only Kami of the fifth rank yet. Although Katsu is mastering control of her power at an amazing rate.”
Paul nodded sighing. “True, and I wish I could say we won’t need a Goddess of Battle, or war, or whatever she is… but we may need her and her big guns at some point.”
Inari giggled. “Katsumi is the one with the big guns…”
Paul gave her a sardonic look, relenting after a moment and smiling.
“Ok, yeah… point taken. At least she’s popular.”
“Thanks to that gatcha game using them as avatars for the battleships Yamato and Musashi.”
Paul nodded; “For which they’re getting a nice chunk of royalties. Katsumi at least seem happy with it.”
It had come as some small surprise that the embodiment of the the Battleship Yamato, born of magic and divine power, and patterned after Katsu Yamato, great-granddaughter of the ships captain, and descendent of the original general Yamato of legend, had turned out to have a personality that was the polar opposite of the stoic Katsu. Katsu’s silver-haired ‘sister’ Katsumi had thrown herself into 21st century life with great glee. She’d even taken to wearing the abbreviated naval uniform and fox ears of her in-game self… much to Katsu’s stern disapproval. Although Paul was amused to note that Katsu hadn’t gone so far as to actually stop her from appearing like that, even though Katsumi was Katsu’s Herald technically.
Inari sighed, a few glowing fragments of pink sukura petals briefly manifesting as an expression of her mood.
“It seems unfair that the one with the most immediately useful power, is also the one who has the least control.”
Paul nodded. “To be fair to Kiko, she is trying to keep it under control. It’s not her fault she’s a well-spring of mana.”
Inari nodded, eyes downcast. Kiko was Inari’s lover, and deeply, profoundly in love with Inari. Inari however didn’t entirely reciprocate her feelings, literally being unable to be faithful. Inari was also convinced that it was this that had somehow tainted her gift of the divine ‘seed’ to Kiko. Overcompensating Paul had suggested. Such that Kiko naturally generated an excess of power, far more than she could contain.
To put it simply, she leaked magic wherever she went. Miracles spontaneity happened around her, the environment echoed her moods. Luckily for everyone though, Kiko was a naturally happy and usually fairly calm personality. Although her compassionate and empathic side did mean that she now was known as a Goddess of Healing. Not that she did it deliberately, but people just got better around her.
“I know..” Inari said, pausing to brush a damp wisp of her ripe wheat coloured hair aside, “I wish I knew more about why some Kami become well-springs of magical power. But there was less interest shown in the whys and hows back when Kami were commonplace. If I ever knew the answer, and I doubt I did, I have forgotten it since.”
Paul didn’t answer, schooling his face into passive neutrality as he inwardly scowled. He had a theory as to why Inari’s memory had bits missing. Blank portions seemingly randomly scattered throughout her recollections. Some of which could be explainable as a result of the long period of time before he’d arrived, when Inari’s lifeblood of magic had been slowly fading away, causing her very soul to fade like a sun-bleached photograph.
But only some of her lost recollections could be explained that way. Other erased memories were too specific to be easily explained as the natural product of what was a type of dementia. Some hadn’t returned as Inari grew in strength, waxing as the magic poured forth from Paul’s invention of the mana convertor, as it refilled the vast natural ‘battery’ of magical power that was the mountain, and more spcifically the deposit of an unusual type of iron ore at it’s heart.
Paul took another sip of sake, hiding the frown on his face as he considered the subject gain, prodding at it like a missing tooth. There was no doubt in his mind that Inari had suffered some of her memories being deliberately erased, completely excised from her mind. Or more accurately, roughly torn out, as there were dangling threads of recollection that lead to blank spots. Paul suspected her habit of not thinking about the past was an adaption to this, a way of avoiding running into those blank spots. He also suspected that her depression, which still lingered and jumped out at her in unguarded moments, sending her into a downward spiral of negativity, was also a by-product of this mental manipulation. Even though she didn’t remember it, he suspected that she was aware on some subconscious level that her very core had been violated, ripped apart and left with parts of her mind and soul missing.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
He even had some idea of who might be responsible, but no inkling if the guilty party still existed nor how to find them if they did… although he did have a few ideas about what to do if he managed to get hold of them. In meantime, he did his best to encourage Inari’s slow healing while not calling attention to the possibility of it being a deliberate injury. He was fairly sure that thinking about that wouldn’t do Inari any good… although whether it would send her down into a spiral of self-hatred and depression, or infuriate her he couldn’t say. Either way, a Goddess of the first rank going slightly mad was an outcome to be avoided.
In an effort to change the subject, Paul remarked. “Shoko’s practically giddy at the idea of starting school next week.”
Inari chuckled. “Never has April been so slow getting here… I thought she’d burst waiting for the new term to start!”
Relived to avoid the potential minefield Paul smiled, nodding.
“I swear she was going to wear out her uniform even before she went to school, you know she slept in it for the first few days after getting it, right?”
Inari laughed.
“I know, I know! But I didn’t have the heart to say anything…”
“Me neither. She’s worked really hard to catch up to her peers. That, and the usual kitsune curiosity helps. She’ll dive into a subject and won’t surface until she’s satisfied she understands it. Kiko says she’s a natural born scholar, minus the of-so-serious demeanour a lot of academics have. I think Kiko’s a tiny bit bewildered by her…”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Shoko-chan is like this precocious learning machine, hidden inside a bouncing fluff-ball of bubbly happy-go-lucky ‘oh squirrel!’ personality. I’d say she has ADHD, but I gather that’s normal for kitsune and relativity speaking she’s actually fairly staid.”
Inari laughed, almost snorting sake out her nose as her merriment bubbled up involuntarily and met the rice wine on the way down. Rendered speechless momentarily, Inari settled for glaring and wagging a finger at the unrepentant Paul, who was grinning at her having successfully tickled her funny bone at the idea of Shoko-chan being considered staid.
A few days later, Paul recalled that conversation in onsen, as he watched the irrepressible little fox-girl hurtling down the stairs from the temple, a piece of buttered toast held in her mouth, one of the twin tails of her strawberry-blonde hair already in messy disarray, it’s red ribbon trailing loosely behind her.
Next to him Jiao sighed. The small oni girl was neat as new pin in her school uniform, red leather bookbag clasped in her hands. Of course, she was also hiding the fact she was nervous, and had been up well before sunrise. Oni had a bad history with humans, and the idea of openly attending school set her quaking to her very core.
But she was still here and determined to go. Jiao might be considered small and frail by Oni standards, although that meant she didn’t tower above her human peers and was only about two or three times as strong… but Jiao had a will that could bend iron, and the full measure of an Oni’s stubborn refusal to back down from any challenge. Which befitted the future leader of her clan, Paul supposed.
Of course, it did cause problems at times… it had taken a not inconsiderable effort of persuasion on his part to get the school board to accept the personal alterations to Jiao’s uniform. But in end the young oni princess had been allowed own version of her school’s uniform, with vivid pink trim instead of the traditional dark blue.
Paul suspected that Principal, Ms Hitomi Mitashi had a lot to do with the school-board agreeing to bend the rules on dress code… she’d audibly squealed under her breath at the sight of Jiao in her version of the sailor-like school uniform. The hot pink of the trim setting off the pale pink of her hair and eyes.
Paul shook his head, dispelling his thoughts, as Shoko hopped down the last couple of stone steps, tapping the toe of her new red shoe against the pavement to better settle it in place.
“Got everything you need?” Paul asked as he retied her ribbon
“Yesh!” Shoko mummed around the toast in her mouth. Which Jiao deftly caught as it threatened to drop semi-molten butter down her new blouse.
“Sorry, Paul-san, yes I’ve got everything!”
Paul eyed her bulging satchel, and nodded. “So I see… Ok, you two, off you go. You’ve enough time still to catch the bus at the end of road. Remember, be good. You’re the first Yokai to openly attend school, people will be watching.”
Jiao nodded. “We understand. No starting fights.”
Paul smiled fondly. “Yup…but there’s nothing wrong in finishing them either!”
Jiao laughed, her serious mein breaking in an instant. “You sound like my brother Paul-san!”
“I somehow doubt Tatsuo would thank you for the comparison… at least, not out loud!”
Jiao laughed, nodding as she and Shoko hurried off. Paul watched them go, thinking that it was slightly surprising that the young leader of the small Oni clan wasn’t present. On the other hand, ever since the yokai had stepped out into the light of public gaze, he’d been rather busy setting up his and Katsu’s kendo school. Katsu, with her father’s assistance, had managed the finances to found the school Tatsuo was nominally the instructor for.
In the weeks after opening it’s doors, several individuals who were prominent in the world of kendo had turned up. Apparently a dojo founded jointly by an Oni and a Goddess of Battle had attracted attention, and a number of highly placed competitors had arrived to challenge Tatsuo, and Paul suspected themselves as well.
Tatsuo had beaten almost all of them, and those he hadn’t Katsu had defeated. Inari had divided her Divine Pearl or Godhood, and shared it with Katsu, as well as Kiko and Suz-metal, aka Suzue Nakamoto, or Suzue Godesu, the Metal Goddess of Storms, Katsu’s already impressive prowess at martial arts had amped up since her transformation.
Paul frowned slightly as he turned to start the long climb back up to the temple plateau, his mind turning to the questions raised by that desperate transformation of three young girls, worrying away at it like a dog with a familiar bone.
The process had meant to be temporary. A subdivision of Inari’s power to lower it’s emanations below the radar of section 31 of the special police department, aka the monster hunters. Who were really a hold over, semi cult-like organisation from the Meiji era when the emperor of the time had mandated the modernisation of Japan. Which had included the eradication of Yokai to discourage superstitions and ways of thinking seen as incompatible with scientific progress. An order which they had still been carrying out, until recently.
Paul paused to catch his breath and smile, thinking it ironic that at about the same time as that Japan had been turning it’s back on magic, miles away in America Nikola Tesla had been laying the foundations for the scientific study of the nature magic itself, as way of wireless transmitting electrical power no less. Which had in turn many years later, lead to him building the mana convertor which turned electricity into raw magic or mana as he preferred to call.
Taking a deep breath, and standing from where he’d been resting on the new bench at the half-way point of the climb, Paul continued on.
The problem with magical theory, was that it was essentially just a series of after-the-fact explanations of things learnt through trial and error. It didn’t explain the fundamental nature of magic at all, it was a bunch of ad hoc rule-of-thumb observations tied together with a halfway plausible stab in the dark attempt at explaining them, rather than a theory.
Paul as he would readily admit, was a modestly successful author with a pack-rat like habit of retaining eclectic bits of knowledge. But he was by no means a scientist and certainly not the person one would chose to investigate an entirely new field of knowledge. But he’d stumbled across it, and with his treasure trove of weird bits of arcane knowledge he’d done the impossible, breathing life back into something long since relegated to the dusty realms of mythology and superstition.
That said, he’d be the first to admit he was greatly relieved that better minds than him were now investigating what he’d found. The University of Kyoto was ranked highly among universities globally. They had some of the best minds in Japan, and quite a few of them had grabbed the metaphorical ball and run with it, once they got over their shock. There was even talk of pulling all the disparate disciplines that were working with magic together into a new Department of Arcane Studies, or Department of Magical studies depending on who you asked. Paul knew because he’d been approached by the University to act as guest speaker at the commencement ceremony in few weeks.
Paul was still debating with himself about that. He didn’t feel qualified to be lecturing about anything at a university level! Although, he did have to admit he was probably the only one remotely qualified, simply by virtue of being first to realise that magic could be quantified using science… at least a little.
Although that just meant that he was painfully aware of how little he actually knew… which as he thought about it, was probably something of an important point to get across to all those setting out on the trail he was blazing.
His mind made up on that question, and having decided to attend the opening ceremony at the end of the week..that is if he could carve out some time to go to Kyoto, he returned back to his original subject.
The problem was, as little as he knew about magic, the workings of divine magic were even more opaque to him.
From what he’d observed, although it seemed to follow most of the same general rules as the more mortal magic he was half-way familiar with by now… it also seemed to completely ignore others and have it’s own set of principles on top of that.
Paul sighed. Kiko being a well-spring in particular was vexing. From what Inari had said, it was a rare occurrence even among the ranks of kami and little understood. In general magic obeyed the laws regarding conservation of energy, aside from the peculiar scaling law that magical fields followed, power falling off as an inverse linear function of distance, and not inverse square law every other energy field did. Paul now freely admitted he was at a loss to explain that as well.
Which left him with no idea where the raw magical power or mana that leaked out Kiko’s aura came from. It didn’t appear to have a source, it wasn’t as if her body was making it from the food she consumed. It was just… there… shining from her at an output rate that cast into shade even the new Mk.2 mana convertor installed at the top of the mountain and fed by several high voltage lines from japans national grid.
It seemed to violate a few of the laws of physics, and that was hardly the start of it all. Still he reflected as he finally crested the rise and stepped out into the now well tended courtyard in front of the temple, surely someone else could figure it out? Even if it was only really a matter of academic interest.
Paul paused catching his breath and looking around. The tenuki work crew busy renovating the roof of the main hall waved, and as Paul waved back he decided to concentrate on more practical matters for now. Because there were certainly enough to occupy his time with!
With that resolution in mind, he headed for the Oni village under construction near the old mine area. The Oni having been moved out of the mines once an actual mining engineer had taken a look at the tunnels and pronounced them unsafe for habitation, what with toxic gases, radiation from the naturally occurring minerals, and the ever present danger of an earthquake causing a collapse. The oni had readily quit the mines and with a little encouragement had started building traditional style dwellings in an area that had once served as the workers village.
Although the first thing they’d done was rebuild the stone wall that fortified the small plateau. Old habits dying hard Paul had remarked at the time. As Paul’s long legs ate up the distance, it wasn’t long before the sound of hammering and sawing filled his ears. Between the Oni’s strength, and the unbounded enthusiastic energy of the tanuki work crew helping them out, the buildings were going up at a pace a human crew with power tools couldn’t match, and the Oni and tenuki only had traditional hand tools to work with.
Of course, the fact that the oni were camping out in tents provided by the JSDF as their new homes went up, and that there was still a frost on the ground in the mornings, probably explained some of their motivation. But Paul rather thought that for once, they were building homes specifically designed for them, rather than making do with make-shift accommodations in places abandoned by humans also probably had something to do with it. For almost all the younger Oni, it would be their first taste of a proper modern home.
Paul paused as he rounded the corner and looked out over the half-built village.. Of course, he thought, ‘modern’ was something of contextual concept… it was true the houses had been built with mostly modern materials, but the style could have been straight out of a film by Akira Kurosawa, set in the Edo era. Well, aside from the power lines running from eave to eave that is. Oni enjoyed their modern conveniences too it turned out, and as long as the power cables were shielded and grounded, they were safe from interference from the ever present mana field.
Spying Tatsuo in the distance, Paul waved and picked up the pace. The young Oni leader might have not been present to see his imouto, or younger sister, off to school, and wouldn’t have insulted her by implying she needed him there for emotional support.. but that didn’t mean he didn’t care and Paul planned on soothing his worries, while pretending not to. Tatsuo had a young man’s pride after all, and he wasn’t about to look like we was worried about her at all.
Paul smiled to himself as he drew nearer. He fully expected that Tatsuo would find a reason to be in the general vicinity of the school later today, probably around lunch time, so he could quite by chance bump into his little sister. And if he didn’t, Paul would furnish him with one.