D9 LM: Past Lives Picnic--speeches only

[Asahina Hoshiko]

(This thread is for the stories people tell, their paragraphs-long theological musings, and the like. Post in any order)

Around a central area with cushions for seating, a number of small tables are available for people to display their interesting objects. People are encouraged to touch and examine the objects, react and discuss around them.

The decor evokes Meido, but aims to avoid doing so in a gloomy or spooky way. This is not a night of 100 candles with dim lights and a shrouded mirror.

There are mirrors though, evoking the karma mirrors of the underworld, in which one may see their past actions drawn forth for the judges. Some mounted on trees in the garden, others dangling, all adding flashes of light and movement in the light wind of the day. They counter the overcast skies with their unexpected flashes. The flashing glimpses of reflections might also remind one of a missing relative as they see just a moment of their own reflection, bent through memory to someone with a passing resemblance.

Emma-O's symbols are about. Origami representations of his fearsome black mempo, court implements as reminders of the judgement that waits there, and cleverly folded mazoku--the spirits who serve Emma-O endlessly

Scattered braziers offer warmth to gather around for those who don't find the mild winter weather all that mild. Servants have tea and light snacks on hand, and may be asked for more substantial fare for those who wish for a proper lunch before court.

The Objects and who will talk about them
*************************************************
For Shintaro (should he tell a tale)
A war-fan, very faded. The black lacquer is hazed and cracked, while the gold symbols are of a progenitor house long faded beneath a pale Phoenix mon. The silk cord at the end of the handle is obviously newer.

For Sanjuro
A gold hair comb with an image of a ship's wheel and a gold and red fish. This belonged to her great-grandmother, an earth shugenja Yasuki, who trained with the Kuni before marrying into House Ageki as part of a trade deal.

For Ryusei
A one-eyed doll that is said belonged to a great-grand uncle of hers. This doll is much like a Daruma doll in look and cultural purpose in the Crab Clan, supposedly originating from the Kuni. The paint has aged to a brick red but it seems otherwise well taken care of.

For Yuna
A tenmoku style tea bowl produced in House Tanaka's oldest ceramics workshop, one of several his grandparents liked to use regularly while they were alive.

For Sayomi
A fan, painted mostly black, so the negative spaces form the image from the underlying warm gold silk. A bare winter cherry tree, with dry grasses at it's base. Plump buds along the gnarled branches hint at the bloom to come. Example of the technique Great-great... grandpa Isawa's fan.

For Hoshiko
A single white go stone. It was from the set his great-great-great....grandpa who was a go master played his last game upon. Upon it's conclusion, he divided up the stones among his children who divided it up among their children....

For Eiji
An ink pot, working with sandpiper designs, first owned by the first generation of House Shigi to have fancy stuff like "buildings" and pottery. It was broken at least twice, and has been repaired kintsugi-style- once with gold, once with silver.

For Ryoichi
An intricate lacquer box depicting stylised trees in golden and light green tones and red, golden and white poppy flowers. The box smells strongly of spices (the spices have been reserved elsewhere so they wouldn't interfere with the reading!), and has a few dents here and there which are still visible despite repairs over the ages. The box originally belonged to Masaki's great grandfather's grandparents (the stories told in the family vary as to whether the grandfather or grandmother - both seem to have used it), whose dealings greatly contributed to the family's fortunes while they were still part of a larger Yasuki house in the Crane. This part is known and told in the family - what is not known is what these deals involved (the family traditionally interprets the poppy flowers based on their Hanakotoba meanings, 'fun-loving', 'rejoice', 'success', and the dents as simple accidents... that is not quite what they actually represent )

For Masaki
A carp netsuke that has been in his family since it was owned by Shiozaki Hana, the founder of his house. It's said to have been a gift to Shiozaki Hana from an artist who was killed by the kolat.

For Shinnosuke
An old hand-held mirror that has been passed down for generations through the women in her family, passing from mother to the eldest daughter. It's made with bronze by Lion artisans.

For Shiori
The Onodera family sake cup, made from silver mined by his great-great-great-great grandfather and passed down for 6 generations.

[Agasha Yuna]

Yuna studied Doji Shinnosuke-san’s tenmoku style tea bowl produced in House Tanaka's oldest ceramics workshop, one of several his grandparents liked to use regularly while they were alive.

It was not just tenmoku style. It was yohen tenomoku style!
https://ibb.co/4Pp87JD

Her eyes widened. How beautiful! And hadn’t she read…?

(She had been reading about glassware artisanship rather a lot lately, for reasons of her own. And she'd been listening to how Soshi-san told his stories. She could do this!)

“I do know a story – a legend, perhaps? – about the first workshop that made yohen tenmoku style bowls. Perhaps it is about your ancestors?”

“Long long ago, there was a woman, a widow, with a fine estate. Many wished to court her, but she posed to each the same riddle. You can pay court to me if you can remove all the stars that collect in my pool each night.”

“A fisherman came along. He was a hard worker! But he studied the pool that evening and said ‘There is no net I could make that could catch one of these stars. It is a reflection. Like in a mirror.” And so she sent him on his way.”

“An astrologer came next. He was a clever man! But he studied the pool that evening and said ‘I could chose a day there was no sun in the sky or a night there was no moon, for there are eclipses and wanings, but there is no night when the stars will not show in your pool.” And so she sent him on his way.”

“The third man was a potter. Hard working and clever! He studied the pool that evening and said ‘Come back in three hours, my star riddle lady. You’ll see it done.' For he understood the pool was a bowl. And that with hard work, he could simply haul every last drop of water out of it. When she returned three hours later and beheld the dry dirt bed of the empty pool, there was indeed not a star to be found in it. And so she smiled and told him he was welcome to court her, and he did so eagerly, and they married soon after.”

“With her wealth, he built a pottery workshop that flourished. Beautiful bowls with different elegant glazes. But he was not satisfied, for he loved her dearly. ‘Wife,’ he pledged, ‘I am still sorry that I had to take the stars away from you to win you. You deserve every star in the sky. I want to make a bowl of stars for you. A bowl that holds your stars, even when emptied.' For theirs was the kind of love that never runs dry."

“And that is why he invented the yohen tenmoku glaze. Perhaps he invented it. Perhaps the secret was whispered to him by an earth kami. He was an old man by the time he mastered it, but it became the most beautiful and valuable style of bowl that his workshop could make.”

“The yohen tenmoku glaze, to this day, has a black-based body in which various sized blue to purple spotted patterns appear. The periphery of each spot gives off pretty colors of iridescence. The spotted pattern is called the ‘seimon’, meaning the star crest, and the periphery iridescence is called the ‘kousai’, meaning the luster pattern.”

“And as for lives, and lives upon lives, it is said that he loved her so much, that first potter in that first workshop, that his descendants who held the bowl could hear his voice, his love, his search, generation after generation, for his star riddle wife. And sometimes they found each other again, and such couples particularly enjoyed taking their tea together from a bowl of stars.”

https://sakkaku.org/r/16498 Perform storytelling 27

[Kitsu Shintaro]

Kitsu Shintaro stood up and held the fan aloft, his eyes flitting here and there and practically vibrating with energy.

"This! Is a fan. This! Is the fan of the Rikugnshokan Kitsu Futo, who gave his life against the...well, you know. Anyway, you should all come and get a closer look! You! Take and pass, take and pass!! Yes, is it not a wonderful thing? It has several properties, not the least of which is its composition includes elements from 2 of the rings! Oh, wait, metal isn't...hold on...right, metal is earth, but wood is also earth. Gosh, I always get that confused. I guess you could make a case for air, though!"

"Kitsu Futo lived a very, very long time ago. He was known to enjoy collecting the heads of his enemies and piling them in large piles so that others could clearly identify his prowess on the field! As a method of presenting data, that does challenge the sensibilities of many symposia, but these were different times, I suppose. But then, who knows what the future brings, am I not correct?!"

"In any case, he did as bushi do for some time, and then he died. In death, he was judged meh and consigned to the realm of waiting, and he walks amongst us still, reincarnating in cycles until he figures out a different way to make a graph, or...you know, equivalent things! Um...this is a cautionary tale. But also! It is a tale of hope! For even the very ignorant are given additional chances to remake themselves to be wise! And isn't that a comforting thought?"

He stood for a moment as though waiting for an answer, blinking.

"Um...I think that is all I wished to say. Has anyone touched Asahina-san's fan yet? What, it hasn't been presented!? Oh, well, then...I shall...wait? Right. Over there. I shall wait over there."

And he wandered off the stage and into the crowd.

[Shiba Ryusei]

Ryusei took the doll in hands carefully, turning it about.

"We have these in the Phoenix lands as well. If anyone is unclear, when you get one, you paint in one eye before setting out on a task. In this way, you are reminded to keep at it."

He nodded to the doll's one-eyed status.

"This one speaks of unfinished business. And it puts me in mind of the subject we're talking about. Many years gone, a kobune called Amaterasu's Smile put out of Shiro Shiba. And as sometimes happens, the ship met with a mishap. It foundered somewhere on the way to Yasuki Yashiki. Lost with all hands."

Now, at the time, the Yasuki had been a Crane family, but never mind that. Best glossed over.

He gave the little doll a pat, as if it were a small dog..

"Now, the first mate, a newly-married samurai by the name of Shiba Takahashi, had left a doll much like this one behind, with only one eye painted. Less to remind him, than as a promise to his wife. He'd meant to fetch his new bride some silk from Yasuki Yashiki on the return trip. Only the two of them knew. And obviously, as he was in Suitengu's bosom, he never went home to give her the silk or paint that second eye. Takahashi's widow, Shiba Yukiko, bore him a daughter he never got to see. It was sad, but not all that unusual- Takahashi had been one of forty men aboard, after all."

Sea stories almost always involved death on some level. It was why Suitengu wasn't seen in the friendliest light.

"Some years passed. Yukiko was a proud grandmother by then. And she always kept Takahashi's doll on hand. A bit grim, but still a reminder of her lost husband's love for her. So she kept it. She kept it right up until her son-in-law Hirota's first voyage south to Yasuki Yashiki aboard the Seven Fortunes' Blessings returned. Everyone was welcoming folks home, the way you do- when one of Hirota's junior officers- a young man, younger than his captain by a few years!- came calling on the Widow Yukiko."

Ryusei chuckled.

"He had a bolt of silk under his arm, and presented it to Yukiko. Said he'd seen it, and thought, 'you know, Widow Yukiko could use that. I'll bring it by.' Well. Yukiko was floored. She'd never met this guy, after all. But all the same, there he was, making Takashi's delivery, seventeen years after the man had gone down with his ship. As soon as she recovered, she got the doll out, and told the young man to paint in the other eye. With that done, she took it and left it by Takahashi's memorial shrine."

The young Phoenix looked at the doll he held.

"Let's hope someday that second eye gets painted, hm?"

[Kuni Shiori]

For Shiori
The Onodera family sake cup, made from silver mined by his great-great-great-great grandfather and passed down for 6 generations.

Shiori carefully cradled the cup in her hands and peered into its interior, seeing how produced a reflection and how the metallic material reflected the light. She closed her eyes for a moment of contemplation, perhaps to make like a Dragon and mediate on this item.

She would open her eyes and look at the gathering before her. "Such a cup must have been carefully forged and lovingly cared for throughout the generations. Sake cups are often imbued with the purpose of celebration, no matter how small. It could be a celebratory nightcap at the end of a long shift or perhaps a celebratory toast at a wedding, blessing a couple's future together. Even a cup this delicate, I cannot imagine itself being exempt from such a purpose. Metal tends to have a long memory and may it hold memories for the future."

She would offer a poem:

"Waterfall basin,
Laughter invites the next pour,
Temple bells echo"


Rolls
Day 9 - Late Morning, Perform: Poetry/Awareness: Void for Skill, Voice applies? | 5k4 ⇒ 22

[Kitsu Sayomi]

For Sayomi
A fan, painted mostly black, so the negative spaces form the image from the underlying warm gold silk. A bare winter cherry tree, with dry grasses at it's base. Plump buds along the gnarled branches hint at the bloom to come. Example of the technique Great-great... grandpa Isawa's fan.

Sayomi turned the beautiful black fan in her hands, letting the early light of the day catch the richness of the golden fabric that had been cleverly hidden by the paint. It did give her some inspiration...

"Haru no yo no
oborozukiyo no
nagori to ya
izuru asahi mo
nao kasumuran"

("A spring night’s
Misty moon—
Does it leave a keepsake in
The rising sun
Yet seeming hazed?")

A pause as she realised that perhaps they needed more than just a poem, and she thought quickly. Something about the fan made her think of something...

""In the far-north and mountainous portion of the Phoenix lands is a temple which during the reign of the Hantei Bosai had a curious story attached to it; and, though the Emperor reigned so long ago, the teller of the story assured me that he believed the temple to be in existence still.

The temple's name is Kinoto, and it is situated in the hills in wild woods, sacred and almost untouched.

The monk who reigned supreme over the Kinoto Temple was a youngish man, but very devout; he read sacred sutras and words of wisdom from the writings of Shiba-Kami, aloud, twice a-day.

One day the good youth perceived that two monkeys had come down from the mountain and sat listening to his reading with serious faces and no tricks. He was amused, and, taking no notice, continued to read. As soon as he had finished, the monkeys went off into the hills.

The monk was surprised to see the monkeys appear at both his sermons next day; and when on the third day they came again he could not help asking why they came so regularly.

'We have come, holy one, because we like to hear the words and sermons of Shiba-Kami as read by yourself, and greatly do we desire to retain all the wisdom and virtues which we have heard you recite. Is it possible for you to copy out this great and sacred text?'

'It would be a very laborious affair,' answered the priest, highly astonished; 'but, so rare an interest is it that you animals take in the sermons of our Lord Shiba, I will make an effort to satisfy your wish, hoping that thereby you may be benefited.'

The monkeys bowed and left the priest, pleased with themselves and the promise they had obtained, while the priest set to at his gigantic labours of copying the texts. Some six or seven days later about five hundred monkeys came to the temple, each bearing parchment paper, which they laid before the priest, their foreman saying how deeply grateful they would be when they had got the copy of the texts, so that they might know wisdom and mend their ways; and, bowing again before the priest, they retired, all except the first two monkeys. These two set diligently to work to find food for the priest while he wrote. Day after day they went into the mountains, returning with wild fruits and vegetables, honey and mushrooms; and the priest wrote steadily on, being thus attended, until he had copied five volumes of the sacred book.

When he had reached the end of the fifth volume the monkeys, for some unaccountable reason, failed to come, and the good priest was quite nervous on their account. The second day of their absence he went in search of them, fearing that they must have been overcome by some misfortune. Everywhere the priest found traces of their forages in his behalf,—branches broken off the wild fruit trees, scratchings and holes where they had been looking for wild vegetables. Evidently the monkeys had worked hard, and the poor priest felt deeply anxious on their account.

At last, when near the top of the mountain, his heart gave a bound and was filled with sorrow when he came to a hole which the monkeys had made in looking for wild vegetables—so deep that they had been unable to get out. No doubt both of them had died of broken hearts, fearing that the priest would think they had deserted him.

There remained nothing to do but to bury the monkeys and pray for their blessing; which he did. Shortly after this the priest was called away from the temple to another: so, as he saw no necessity to continue copying Shiba's writings, he put the five volumes he had copied into one of the pillars of the temple, which had a sort of shelf cupboard cut in it.

Forty years later there arrived at the temple one Kinomi-ta-ka Ason, who had become Governor of this Province. He came with half of his retainers and domestics, and asked the priests if they knew anything of the unfinished copy of Shiba's words. Was it in the temple still?

'No,' they said, 'we were none of us here at the time your Lordship mentions. But there is one old man, a servant, who is eighty-five years of age, and he may be able to tell you something. We will send for him.'

Shortly afterwards a man with flowing white beard was ushered in.

'Is it the old document that a priest began copying out for the monkeys you want? Well, if so, that has never been touched since, and is a matter of so little importance that I had nearly forgotten about it. The document is in a little secret shelf which is hollowed out in one of the main pillars of the temple. I will fetch it.'

Some ten minutes later the documents were in the hands of Kinomi-ta-ka Ason, who was in ecstasy of delight at the sight of them. He told the priests and the old man that he was the province's governor, and that he had journeyed all the way to their temple to see if unfinished volumes of Shiba's writings remained there.

'For,' he said, 'I was the senior of the two monkeys who were so anxious to obtain copies of the whole of our Lord Shiba's sermons; and, now that I have been born a man, I wish to complete them.'

Kinomi-ta-ka Ason was allowed to take the five volumes away with him, and for five years he kept copying out the sacred book. He copied three thousand volumes in all, and it is said that they are now kept in the Temple of Kinoto, as its most sacred treasure."

She gently unfolded the fan to let everyone see its beauty, and the motif of blooms to come on the cherry tree. "Rebirth to a greater purpose and a better life is available for all, but for some, one must settle for being blooms in the new spring of the Kharmic Wheel."

[Soshi Eiji]

A letter is delivered to the gathering:

"Asahina-san, my deepest apologies, but my duties to the delegation have spirited me away as it were. I do have a story for your gathering, and would be deeply appreciative if you'd have someone read it to the group."

There once was a sandpiper. It was a good sandpiper, flying along the shores, finding it's daily sustenence in the shallow water. It had a mate, they produced chicks, and eventually, as all things must, it died.

And this cycle was repeated countless times, being reborn as a sandpiper, flying along the shore, spearing fish, finding a mate, having chicks and eventually dying.

Until finally, Emma-O judged it worthy to instead be reborn as a simple peasant fisherman.

And while this rebirth entailed more sailing along the shore rather than flying over it, their life was remarkably similar. They sailed along the shore, catching fish, now with a net rather than a beak. They had a mate, they produced and raised some children, and eventually, as all things must, they died.

And this cycle was repeated even more countless times, being reborn as a fisherman, doing that what was expected of a good fisherman and eventually dying.

Until, finally, Emma-O judged them worthy and they were instead reborn as a samurai of the Mantis.

There were certainly more burdens upon them as a samurai. Honor, glory, status. Now they sailed across the seas rather than merely along the shore. But even still, they caught fish, more so than they ever had in their previous life, had a mate, produced and raised children, and eventually died.

More burdens meant even more cycles, but eventually Emma-O deemed that they had done what was required to be reborn as something new again.

"My Lord, upon reflecting on these many lives, I have a request."

Now, Emma-O does not normally DO requests, but on this occassion, the fortune deigned to listen.

"I woud like to be reborn as a sandpiper. I yearn to once more take to the skies, nothing more expected of me than to fish and find a mate."

And so, there was a sandpiper. It was a good sandpiper, flying along the shores, finding it's daily sustenence in the shallow water. It had a mate, they produced chicks, and eventually, as all things must, it died."


Awa/Perform Storytelling: 35

[Doji Shinnosuke]

An old hand-held mirror that has been passed down for generations through the women in her family, passing from mother to the eldest daughter. It's made with bronze by Lion artisans.

Shinnosuke examines the patinated mirror with an air of graceful studiousness, admiring it as a tastefully-kept antique. No Doji can look at an antique mirror in a poetic context without thinking about Lady Doji and Lady Shinjo, of course, but that is a story of familial loss and dynastic uncertainty that might be a little much for this still-sensitive mourning season. Besides, it's too obvious.

He turns the mirror over, considering his approach. Pine, bamboo, and flowering plum--a scene of late winter, early spring. Poetically versatile. He chooses to lean into the flowers.

This ancient pond casts
Reflections hazed with petals:
In the ages past,
How many bygone maidens
Washed their flower-faces here?

[Yasuki Ryoichi]

Yasuki Ryoichi examined the lacquered box carefully, turning it over in his hands. He noted the many dents in its surface. Opening the box, he sniffed the fragrant scent of the spices it once held. “This box reminds me of a story I heard once,” he began.

“Once, when the Empire was new, a common sailor of the Crab clan was sailing across Earthquake Fish Bay to meet his new bride of the Crane clan. The sailor carried a box - much like this one - containing two gifts for his Crane bride: a mirror, and a necklace.

To the sailor’s misfortune, the Earthquake Fish awoke during his voyage. Thrashing with his tail, the Earthquake Fish sent a giant wave that capsized the sailor’s ship. Yes, it is truly shocking how many ships were lost at sea in those days - no, it was not the same ship as in the other story. In any case, the sailor fell into the sea. He was a poor swimmer, but he clutched the wooden box close to his chest, and lo! It floated.

So the sailor survived until the earthquake passed, but now was left stranded out at sea, out of sight of any land. He swam and kicked at the water all day to try and get somewhere, but he had lost his bearings, and could not find his way.

Then it was that two ningyo popped up from the water and saw the sailor, kicking and flailing at the water. The ningyo are part fish, part woman, as green as the sea and with hair of seaweed. They laughed and pointed at the poor sailor. “Why do you swim so poorly?” asked one of them with a giggle.

“Here now, you ningyo!” the sailor said, exasperated. “Do not insult me! Instead, save me! Bring me back to land, for without food and water, I will surely die.”

“And why should we do that?” laughed the ningyo.

“I… I will richly reward you,” the sailor promised desperately.

“You look like you don’t have anything to me,” said the other ningyo coyly. “You’re just a penniless shipwrecked sailor.”

“Wait,” the sailor said desperately, and opened the box … the box much like this one … and produced the mirror. “I will give you this mirror if you save me.”

The first ningyo took the mirror and began to admire her own reflection. The second ningyo grew jealous and demanded, “And what will you give me?”

And so the sailor took the necklace out of the box … the box much like this one … and gave it to the second ningyo, who immediately placed it about her neck and began toying with it.

“Very well,” said the first ningyo. “We will bring you back to land.” So saying, the two ningyo grabbed the sailor in their arms and swimming with their powerful fins, brought the sailor to the shore of the Yasuki provinces, which in those days were Crane lands.

The sailor kissed the land when he arrived, but then he wept. “Why do you weep now?” asked the ningyo. “Have we not saved you?”

“Yes, but now I have nothing to give my bride when I see her,” he said, displaying his empty box - the box much like this one.

“Oh! We cannot allow that,” said the ningyo. “We will give you a great treasure to replace it!” So saying, they placed two heavy bags into the box, and then swam away. It never occurred to them to return the mirror, or the necklace - for those belonged to the ningyo now. They had been traded away fairly, after all.

The sailor examined the bags, but instead of the great treasure he had been promised, the bags were full of smelly, brown dirt. The poor sailor very nearly despaired at that point, but he had come this far, so he walked the rest of the way to the Crane village in which his bride dwelled. There, he told the tale to his bride and her father, who was the village magistrate. The two villagers marveled at the story, amazed that the sailor had survived.

“And all I have to show for this adventure are these bags of dirt,” the sailor said, showing again the box - the box much like this one - and the bags full of dirt. But the two villagers said, “What is this delicious smell? This is not dirt … this is some kind of bark ... it's a new spice!” And thus they discovered cinnamon, which grows in the Isles of Silk and Spice, but was not known to the Empire at that time. Truly, it was a treasure beyond compare.

And so the two were married, and their descendants were many, and the box - battered, fragrant with spices, the box that had saved the sailor's life - a box almost exactly like this - was passed down through the generations. Their descendants became great sailors and traders, and some traveled to the Isles of Silk and Spice to trade in cinnamon, the spice discovered by their ancestors, a gift from the ningyo.

And sometimes when a sailor is lost at sea, but found again and reunited with his love - we say, perhaps they share the souls of those two lovers, having been reborn again to live the same story once more."

Snapping the box shut, Yasuki Ryoichi took a short bow, then returned the box to where the other items were being displayed.

[Asahina Hoshiko]

A single white go stone. It was from the set his great-great-great....grandpa who was a go master played his last game upon. Upon it's conclusion, he divided up the stones among his children who divided it up among their children....

Hoshiko has made the rounds, holding each item. The gentle round of the stone and pleasing smoothness make it hard to set down, so she doesn't.

Holding it she begins her story, pitching her voice to carry across the gathered samurai. "This reminds me of a story my elder brother told me when I was quite small, about rival Go players."

"Ayame and Ayumu were not masters, but they each enjoyed the game, and had played against one another since their youth. Every tenth day, they found time to set up the board, even as each married and grew busy with the responsibilities of family. Though during busy seasons, they might only manage a very short visit allowing a few moves, with the board set up on a shelf with the stones still laid out until they could continue."

"Life is uncertain though, and Ayumu perished one spring in the terrible flooding the village endured. Ayame couldn't bear to sweep the stones from the board and set it on it's shelf, still waiting for the next move. Once a year she would take it down to carefully clean away the dust and remember her friend on the anniversary of his death." Hoshiko looked at the stone in her palm with feigned sorrow.

"In the ninth year, one of Ayumu's white stones was missing. Ayame looked on the shelf and all underneath, but found no sign of it, and by afternoon had simply given up. " Hoshiko closes her hand, hiding the stone.

"As the sun was sinking, a young boy made his way into the village. By his clothing and the dust of travel, he'd come quite a long way. He walked straight to Ayame's house and held out his palm with a single white stone in it." Palm out, she mimics the tale. "Ayame was amazed, and quickly agreed when he asked to continue the game. They spent the evening introducing the boy to her family and playing Go. His style was exactly Ayamu's."

"Surely this was her friend reborn! The right age and Everything. Of course she tried to draw him out in conversation, and it seemed he recalled everything, but found it strange now seeing it again through a child's eyes. He'd come from halfway across the province as his new parents had died of a winter fever and he'd felt it was time. He knew he was right when he saw the stone beside him when he woke that morning."

"Of course Ayame took him in, and they continued their games. Many years later, he married one of her three daughters. The games continued as she visited her grandchildren. Until Ayame perished in an earthquake at a fine old age. After all that had happened, it was a given that Ayamu would preserve the board, even with no unfinished game upon it."

"He sort of kept a watchful eye out. After all, what had happened once, might happen again. And indeed, in the ninth hear, a girl serving in a traveling troupe passing through came to his house, a black stone in her hand." Well, Hoshiko couldn't turn the black stone white, so she just set it back on it's table and let people imagine.

"I heard the pattern continued thus and is happening still, so Ayame and Ayamu play their matches with small breaks for that passage into Meido and back into this world, always seeking their friend and the game they loved.

[Yasuki Masaki]

Masaki listens to Ryoichi's story on the box with a bright smile on her lips. She wouldn't imagine her family history tied to the origins of cinnamon, or to Ningyo for that matter - but she didn't dislike the idea, and was ready to accept the suggestion as fact, at least for this delightful event.

When her time came, she took the netsuke in the shape of a carp, raised it.

"There is in Yasuki lands, at least in the peninsula, a story of a netsuke - much like this one (the similarity to Ryoichi's wording may be noted here!) - which was once held by a man who had two loves in life. The first was poetry, to which he dedicated most of his life when not busy with his duties as a harbour bureaucrat. The second was a woman, who he'd loved since their school years - but when they graduated and received their duties, his kept him far away from her, and a marriage to her, which he'd long dreamt of, seemed farther with each passing day.

Some years down the line, he met a generous man at the harbour, who quickly earned the poet's confidence with his graces. His offers, in fact, seemed often far too kind - enough to raise some eyebrows. But every single time, he delivered what he promised. One day, this man asked the poet to drink some sake with him, and while they drank he offered what the poet wished the most, but by now found impossible - a way to convince his lord to marry his long-time love, if he would be ready to do just one small thing: go to the house of an important lord, and ask him to read a single poem to him.

The poet was ecstatic, and readily accepted. While he rejoiced, something, deep down, told him something was not right - but with his bleeding heart now seeing relief on the horizon, the impression was quickly forgotten.

That same day, he started writing a letter to the woman, informing her that they could finally be together. But in the end, he decided against sending it now - he could tell her in person later, when all was arranged.

It was but a few nights later when he visited the lord. He was readily welcomed inside, and read aloud the poem the man had asked him to:

ふゆごもり / 思ひかけぬを / このまより / 花と見るまで / 雪ぞふりける
buried in winter
how unexpected it is
between the trees
to imagine flowers
in the fallen snow

Hearing the poem, the lord smiled and thanked him. His eyes seemed distant, as the poet would later note. But he thought nothing of it as they shared tea and he went on his way.

Weeks passed, and as winter progressed enough for snow to fall even in the south, letters exchanged with his beloved indicating that the betrothal was advancing smoothly. One night, when walking around town, he heard it: the lord he visited had been found hanged - probably his own doing - other bodies found feet under snow and flowers in his garden.

Those who knew the poet said he came home changed that day. His letters to his beloved stopped coming, and few nights later he was nowhere to be found.

After another week, a kubi-bukuro was found next to the magistrate station. The generous man who'd promised to help the poet would be making no further offers, in the harbour or anywhere else.

That same night, a small parcel arrived at the house of the poet's beloved. In it, a carp netsuke - one almost exactly like this - was found besides three ordered poems.

1.
花の色は / うつりにけりな / いたづらに / わが身世にふる / ながめせしまに
The sakura's colours
have all but faded away
as I stare in vain
my life passing by in thought
with the never-ending rain

2.
限なき / 雲ゐのよそに / わかるとも / 人を心に / おくらさむやは
Beyond beyond
The clouds' far side
May part us, yet
Within my heart,
Shall I carry you?

3.
わかれてふ / 事はいろにも / あらなくに / 心にしみて / わびしかるらむ
Parting
Has no hue
And yet
It stains deep within our hearts
This sorrow

The poet did not present for his duties the next day, nor the next. His house was found empty.

The woman cried for three whole days and nights - but then she stopped, certain that her beloved had done the right thing. She wore the netsuke ever after, married, and passed the netsuke along to her descendants. It is said to have been lost later, but a similar netsuke - perhaps the very same one - would always make its way back to the family, generation after generation. Some say it's a reminder that not all righteous stories have a happy ending - until one realises that happiness lies exactly in righteousness"

With a gentle smile, perhaps aiming at breaking the solemn tone a bit, Masaki puts the netsuke back into the pile.