There were no birds; no squirrels, nor animals of any kind. The forest was like a lifeless painting, hanging in an abandoned home. Every tree was tall and slim, its branches twisting like broken bones, colored in desaturated hues of orange, red, and brown.
Mariko’s boots crunched on an apricot path, the dying autumn leaves her only companions. Not even the sun dared to shine through the trees above. The world seemed bleak with barely enough light to illuminate the way ahead. The rest of the forest was shrouded in shadows, which seemed to move with a mind of their own; Twisting aimlessly.
Mariko gazed into the darkness and for a moment it felt like the very woods themselves were staring back. Observe and Remember, she repeated to herself, those old words of focus, faith, and meditation; passed down through her family for generations. What right do I have of family? Mariko said to herself as her eyes teared up and her heart skipped a beat. How long had it been since she last saw Uri? Two years? More?
“Kuso.” Mariko’s voice was harsh and sharp as she cursed herself. “Why can’t I remember?” Grandfather would be so disappointed in you. The wind whispered in her ear and the old warrior felt tears flowing down her scared cheeks. She had led armies, conquered kingdoms, and braved unknowns no one would ever dream of, and yet ‘family drama‘ was the thing that finally broke her. Not only that, but it was Uri, her own son who had thrown the final stone.
“Get a hold of yourself.“ Mariko slapped her cheek and shook her head. “Uri may be impulsive, but he…“ The old warrior took out an old letter. “He would never ask me for help if it wasn’t life or death.“ The words were hard to admit. Every mother wants her son to rely on her, but Uri was hardheaded and stubborn. Just like his old mother. Mariko giggled to herself.
…And that’s why you pushed him away. The wind blew past her. No. I…I. Mariko yelled inside her mind. She felt as if her very soul was crumbling to pieces.
“I’m an awful mother.” The old warrior felt her knees begin to fold onto themselves, she needed a distraction, some action, so she shifted her feet and went into a sprint. It was the only habit she had kept throughout the years.
Back in the day, when her grandfather was still alive, Mariko would indulge herself in drink, fights, and gambling. ‘Are you done yet?’ He used to say. ‘Ready to start actually living?’ Of course, at the time Mariko didn’t know what he meant, it wasn’t until his death that she finally understood. She gave up the drinks, the women, the men, and everything else that would cause her a headache in the morning. But she kept running through the toughest of times, running was her only escape. That is until the last war of Kumusagi. It was all downhill from there.
Kuso. Mariko cursed as her injured back flared like an angry beast. As if it was punishing her for indulging in her hobby. She wanted to curse it out, to slash at the pain until it went away, but she knew that time and age had come for her and would not let her go.
“No,” Mariko muttered. “I am the demon of Kumusagi.” She punched her chest with her one good arm. “I shall not be thwarted by time. I will fight until my last days!” The old warrior sighed, her breath a mist in the cold autumn air as she slumped down to the ground. “But I’ll take a short break first.”
Mariko rubbed her scars - trophies from her conquests - as they throbbed painfully under her skin. Her left arm, a mechanized machine made by the best engineers in the land felt heavy and cumbersome. When did you get so old? The wind whispered in her ear.
“I still have a few good years left.” Mariko laughed, she was beginning to sound more and more like grandfather. Back in the day he had been the greatest warrior to ever live and he still would be, but the dead tell no tales and swing no swords. Yet, his teachings, techniques, and words still live on as a guide, inside of Mariko’s heart. She only hoped Uri would come to understand and respect her the same way. But first I should show him that I respect him as a man and son.
Leaves rustled behind her and Mariko instinctively drew her Tachi Katana. She hadn’t really noticed until now, but the forest was as still as a corpse. The wind was the only living thing in this god-forsaken place. So then what made that noise? Mariko thought as she moved like a panther on the hunt. With a single swing of her blade, the old warrior felled a mighty bush. There was nothing there.
“I must be losing my mind.” Mariko laughed, a laugh that was cut short when she saw the shadows move. Someone was definitely stalking her. Fine. Mariko grinned. I’ll play your game. The old warrior found herself trembling with excitement. All this drama, all these feelings, she didn’t know how to deal with them. But this, being hunted, being the hunter; fighting and killing, was her domain and this is where she thrived.
Mariko almost went after the figure hiding in the darkness. But no. She reminded herself. I need to play the game, Observe, and remember…it’s more fun this way.
The moon began to rise and the forest itself felt like it was pressing around the old warrior with an oppressive -inescapable- weight.
Her steps slowed as the shadows deepened. The ground turned a sickly orange and the last sliver of daylight began to dissipate into the unknown. Observe and Remember, Mariko repeated in her head as she took a deep breath. Her eyes flickered from left to right, her mind going over every single small detail that might give her an advantage. She took a deep breath as the smell of sulfur bombarded her senses.
“What the hell is that?“ Mariko said through a cough. There was a creeping void crawling out of the darkness, swallowing the edges of her vision. The old warrior could feel a presence. Mostly likely the same one that had been stalking her. Since the beginning. Mariko thought as she growled at herself for not noticing. Her patience was wearing thin. “Come on, show yourself!” The old warrior yelled at the void and for a moment it seemed like the void would answer. Mariko sighed. Her hand came to rest on top of the Tachi, tapping the hilt with her figures.
It wasn’t long after that Mariko felt as if she was standing in complete and utter darkness. It was not as if her eyes could not focus in the dark, it was more as if there was nothing to focus on.
You are a failure. The wind whispered—a brittle old failure of a mother.
“Who’s there?!” Mariko drew her blade in one swift motion.
A disappointment as a warrior.
“Show yourself!” Mariko swung wildly into the void.
YOU MAKE A MOCKERY OF OUR FAMILY!
“Grandfather?” Mariko’s eyes grew wide as her Tachi hit the ground. There, out of the darkness came an old man, with a long and slim beard and a gaze so sharp it could pierce steel.
“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” Mariko turned on her heels and went into a sprint. “I’m losing my mind.” She cried as a depraved mockery of what could be considered tree branches reached out of the void and tried to grab her.
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“This isn’t real.” Mariko shook her head. “Observe and Remember.”
Suddenly the old warrior found herself standing on golden tatami floors. Outside the windows, she could see a familiar wooden veranda. Mariko made her way to a nearby wall with markings, carved in the surface.
“Uri Age 5. Uri Age 6. Uri Age 7. Uri Age 8. Uri Age 9.” Mariko read them out loud as her fingers passed by each one. She had missed those years, she was too busy fighting in her wars.
In the next room over there were Sake bottles scattered along a large mahogany table, a bloodied sword left in the corner, and pieces of cloth lying all over the floor.
“Is anyone here?!” Mariko yelled into the empty home as she picked up the sword. There was no doubt about it, this was her house.
The old warrior opened the door to her bedroom, ready to kill anyone who dared to enter uninvited. She looked around the big empty room as her eyes landed on a wooden banner hanging just above the bed, it read ‘Observe and Remember‘. It was then Mariko noticed, she was barefoot, her clothes replaced by an orange kimono. But it wasn’t until she passed by the large mirror in the corner that she felt as if she had truly lost her mind.
Mariko laughed at the old woman, hunchbacked, wrinkly as an old carrot, and with nothing but white hairs growing atop her head.
“You should let go.” Grandfather’s voice came from behind. Mariko stood there for a moment looking into his deep lifeless eyes. She wondered what kind of trick this was, she wondered if she had stumbled upon an Akuma, a spirit of the forest, or some long-lost curse. But more than all of that, the thought. I have lost my mind. Never left her.
“Who are you?” She finally managed to say.
“I am what you see.” Grandfather grinned. “I am your past, your future, and the forest you now thread.”
“So this is a dream?” Mariko’s eyes darted from wall to wall
“Dreams can’t hurt you.” Grandfather took a step forward.
“Can you?” She lifted her Tachi Katana and at that Grandfather just laughed, it was a grueling, painful sound, not something that would come out of any living thing’s mouth.
“Where’s Uri?” Mariko steadied her gaze.
“Don’t you remember?” Grandfather chuckled. “You killed him.”
Mariko narrowed her eyes and without wasting a second she slashed at him, half-expecting her sword to go through the air. But instead in Grandfather’s place stood Uri, as blood came gushing out like a fountain.
“M-Mother?” Uri’s voice barely managed to utter the words before collapsing on the ground.
“No…No…No.” Mariko fell to her knees as she held her baby boy. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real…this isn’t real.” She kept repeating those words for what seemed like hours.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Grandfather’s voice came out of nowhere, like a gust of wind.
“What is this? Who are you?” Mariko’s voice was rasped and gnarled.
Not even a second later Grandfather’s form shifted and twisted, his bones cracked, his head folded over itself and his whole body began to extend in every direction, as if being pulled by ropes attached to galloping horses.
Mariko closed her eyes as she pulled Uri’s frailed copse closer to her own.
“Just get it over with.” Her voice was a pleading mockery of her once proud demeanor.
A minute passed, then two, then three, before she finally opened her eyes. Uri was gone and so was the house. Mariko was back in the forest with her old clothes and Tachi Katana; With the trees and leaves, the smell of sulfur, and that feeling of being watched.
She rubbed her eyes, dazed and confused, before slowly standing up. Was any of this real? Was she real? Mariko wanted to laugh and scream and cry and plead. But that meant admitting she was crazy. But what if I’m not? She narrowed her eyes. Grandfather, or rather the creature that pretends to be him. Mariko had made a decision, she would fight until the end, and she wouldn’t let whatever that was confuse and consume her. She was not crazy.
Then a light bulb flashed in her head. Mariko took out the letter, supposedly sent by her son. It was blank.
“How stupid can I be?“ She held her head as she leaned on a thick tree that had not been there before. It was a grotesque thing, its branches were twisted and gnarled like broken bones, its bark an unnatural grey, as if drained of life. The leaves hung limply, like bodies at the gallows. Mariko’s instincts kicked in as she drew her Tachi, it somehow seemed heavier than it was before.
“Kuso.” She yelled as she slashed at the tree. “Kuso. Kuso. Kuso. Kuso.” With every swing, the ground beneath her shook but the tree itself remained intact, not even a single mark appeared on its surface. Observe and Remember. Mariko reminded herself. What would grandfather do? The old warrior sheeted her blade and sat down among the fallen leaves as she closed her eyes. She steadied her breath and let all emotions pass by her. She was herself as a young child watching her grandfather meditating in their old dojo. She saw herself as a young adult, fighting, drinking, and flirting with every moving thing. She saw Uri as a newborn baby, and for a moment that’s where she stayed, but Mariko let that memory float away as well. She stood in the middle of a battlefield, drenched in blood. Then she was in the royal palace, with its gears and machinery, an engineer was replacing her missing arm. That was a gruesome war, after that Mariko wanted nothing more than to retire. But when she had returned she couldn’t adjust to normal life, which had caused the rift between her and Uri. She saw her son, he had grown into a beautiful young man, a strong man, one filled with pride and determination. She was so proud of him. Mariko was standing in their house, she was yelling at him and he had run into the woods, eyes filled with pain and tears. What had she said? Mariko saw herself running after him and suddenly she found herself in a lifeless forest. Those were her memories, there was no doubt about it. A sense of relief passed through her. I didn’t murder my son. She grew a smile on her face before fear took over. How could I forget?
Now everything had grown dark around her, she was sitting in an empty void, the smell of sulfur her only companion. Mariko opened her eyes to the painful screeching of the forest. It was an unnatural sound, one that words alone could not describe. Hearing it was enough to drive any normal person mad. But that old warrior was not just anyone, she winced in pain as tried to focus her mind on those old words ‘Observe and Remember.’
Mariko shifted her feet and went into a sprint as the trees around her began twisting in and over themselves, the air grew still, the ground shook and even the sky began to fold onto itself. The old warrior found herself out of breath, she felt the pain in her knees grow with every step, her old injuries flared and her hair began to fall out. It was like she was aging with every second that passed.
Soon Mariko couldn’t run any longer and fell to the ground. She wanted to scream in pain, she wanted to cry out to the sky but her voice was gone. The old warrior managed only a raspy yelp.
“Look at how far you have fallen.” Grandfather laughed. It took Mariko all her strength just to glance up at him. “You are going to die here.” He said as he bent down to touch her face. “And so will your son.” Mariko shifted her gaze behind Grandfather, Uri lay there motionless.
“Tell me.” Mariko barely managed to force the words out. “Are you real?”
Grandfather laughed. “I am as real as your nightmares. My body exists as long as you exist.“
“So I am crazy.” Mariko coughed. “W-What of Uri?”
“He will die, because of you.” Grandfather moved a strand of hair from her face.
“Good to know,” Mariko said as she closed her eyes, concentrating all her strength on her mechanized arm. With a single swift motion, she lifted her sword and stabbed herself in the stomach.
“Kuso.” Grandfather said with a smile before evaporating into thin air.
In her last moments, Mariko saw her son move his hand. She saw the darkness around her turn into a vibrant forest with birds flying high up in the sky.
“Did I do good grandfather?” Mariko’s last words faded along with her consciousness.
----------------------------------------
Uri awoke in a lifeless forest, clouded in darkness. He saw the shadows twist in unnatural ways as he threaded along a singular path. The young man couldn’t help but feel as if the forest itself was eating away at his mind.
It wasn’t long after that Uri came across his mother, or what appeared to be his mother. But deep down, he knew this was something else, something beyond human understanding.