Fires in the Night - HSV Ghosts of the Past

    Warm heat on his eyes roused him from his slumber.  The late afternoon’s sunlight passed by the attic window and across his body.  Yawning and scratching his chin, Shiro stretched and turned over to the sound of footsteps coming up the stairway below.
    “Uh, I fell asleep in the attic again.”  To his left was an empty bowl of mango curry, one of Ami’s culinary experiments which turned out better than he had expected.  Though half of it had wound up on his leg, the other half proved to be remarkable.  Outside came the sound of people clamoring for the new flavor while waiting in the restaurant’s line.
    “You look just like a cat Shiro.”  Ami’s father grinned as he grabbed a few bags of spices before turning to go downstairs.
    “I told you not to let me sleep old man.”  Shiro sat up with another yawn and stretched his back, realizing he really was looking the part of a cat.
    “Those kids came back asking about you.  You know the one with only one arm, the farm boy, and the one with the cool face scar.  I told them to give you a break; you’ve been working too hard anyway.”
    “The Obon is tonight and there’s a lot more I need to get done.  Now I’ve got to track down those three.”  Roi and Solon were likely down at the grove organizing the bonfire, but Hak was supposed to help set up some of the ornamental statues he had carved and would need help in finding them.  “Thanks for the lunch; I’ll be back in a few hours to escort Ami to the festival.”
    A hand reached out to grab Shiro before they went downstairs.  “You’ve been acting odd the past few days, and I know it’s not the festival.  You’ve been sleeping around town more often than in the forest like usual.  I’ve seen you avoid the strangers around town, is something wrong?”
    “That’s a hard question to answer.”
    Shrugging his shoulders, Ami’s father left it at that and went downstairs to mix up a new spice blend for the festival tonight.  Shiro made his way to the back, passing by Ami in the back kitchen.  His eye caught sight of her delicate ankle, one of the reasons for her clumsiness; it turned too much inside, throwing off her steps.  As she turned, with a tray of curry, Shiro reached out his hand and grabbed the plate as she tripped and fell down.  Extending his free hand down, he helped her back to her feet before handing her the tray again.  She was clearly flustered, but she was always quick to recover.
    “Thank you Shiro, I didn’t see you there but I’m glad you were.”
    “Always at your service my dear.  I’ve got to finish some work for the festival tonight; I’ll be back just after sundown.”
    “I asked mom to let me have the night off, but we’ve been busy all afternoon.  You don’t mind if I go in my work clothes, do you?”
    Tilting his head from side to side, he smiled at how her pink work dress complimented her skin tone.  Despite her proclivity for accidents, her dress was almost always clean.  “You look great.”  Giving her a peck on her cheek, he gave her a smile before leaving.  As much as he wished life was as simple as that, it wasn’t.
    Truth was that the tasks at hand were not what kept him from finishing his work; there was something in the air, a sound in the wind that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  Shaking his head, he avoided the crowds surrounding the festival stalls and made his way back to his grove.
    Sure enough the three boys were in the grove trying to figure out how to move some of the wooden statues to the Obon clearing.  Roi, despite his handicap, was incredibly handy with tying rope knots; he’d simply tie them with his feet before lifting them up with his single hand.  Solon was a strong and sturdy farm boy, despite trying to explain art to the lad he felt as though he was banging his head against a tree half the time.  Hak, playing the part of leader was leading a crew of workers to the grove with rolling logs.
    Taking a seat on the far end of the grove, Shiro pulled out a knife and began to whittle a block of wood he had been working on for a while.  It was dark piece of wood, leftover from the wood he had used to make a set of serving bowls for Oishii Curry House.  Wooden bowls were cheaper, they didn’t break when dropped, and with enough craftsmanship would look as good as ceramic bowls (which were highly expensive in comparison).
    As much as he wanted to, he just could not distract himself from the reality of his situation.  Hak led the team out of the grove with the last statue, leaving Shiro alone with one elderly man who had been looking at some of the carvings on the trees.
    “Your carvings are beautiful.”  The old man said as he touched the image of a mother bear in her den with two cubs.  “A safe haven is well, but cubs grow up and leave the den.  Such is the way of life.”
    “And what of those who carry their den with them, who travel and never settle down?”  Shiro had known this man from first sight; his father had described the tasseled red and yellow robes in great detail.  The Elder of his father’s Clan, Aimo.
    “We all seek our happiness in life Son of Shinji, but happiness is fleeting like the wind.  Crops fail, disasters strike the land, seasons take their toll on life, the elements wear down buildings and people alike, and then there’s war.  If happiness is fleeting, always elusive, one cannot find it by staying in one place.”
    “I always wondered what those words would sound like from you.  I remember father told them to me once, an empty repetition from a man who no longer believed them.  He took on a hobby of planting and caring for trees, how one cannot harvest from a tree if they leave before the fruit ripens.”
    The old man chuckled to himself and walked to a tree with a relief carving of a bird at flight in the trunk.  “I did not come here to criticize your father’s choice nor yours.  Nor do I have to defend the way of life I have followed since I was a young man.  When our Clan came into town I saw you, the very image of your father in his youth, though you have your mother’s eyes; I wanted to meet you, see if you felt any of the old calling in your blood.”
    “I’m actually glad I got to meet you.  I wasn’t sure how I’d feel if I ever found the Clan my father came from.  But let me tell you something.  You called me ‘son of Shinji’, but that is not my father’s name.” The old man was clearly surprised at this.  “It was my father’s name, but he changed it to Kashi when he became a priest.  Things change; we all embrace this fact in different ways.  Some change who they are with the times, some force things to change back to the way they were before.  Truth is I don’t know if there is a single right answer for how we’re supposed to act.  If your way is the right answer for you, then continue on with my blessing.  But I’ve found a home here…”
    Shiro found himself pausing upon saying that.  Home was not a word he’d used since arriving in Omoichidou, he wondered when it was that he first felt like this.
    “Don’t think me a bickering or confrontational old man; quite the contrary.  Truth is quite a few of the young ones in our Clan wanted to come to this village since they first heard of it.  After staying here for a week about eighteen have decided to stay, and six of the elders have announced they want to retire here.  It’s a lovely place to settle, if that’s the bliss you are following.  You gave me your blessing, now let me give you mine.”  Placing his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, he uttered a prayer in a language Shiro did not recognize, closed his eyes, nodded and then left the grove without another word.
    Left to his thoughts, Shiro changed into his festival robes which were in a cabinet he had made for a client, but hadn’t finished yet.  The sun was setting above the trees and it would soon be dusk, the festival would be starting soon.  The close of summer and the start of fall, or something like that.  Truth be told the festivals were so different from one place to the next it was hard to get the details straight… perhaps that was part of his problem.  For all the time he had been in Omoichidou, he really hadn’t done much to fit in.
    Living out in the forest like a wild man, perhaps he was holding on to his vagrant past.  Maybe the old man had it right; it was time to move on: to step away for good, or to build a hearth and settle down.
    He made his way to the Curry house and found it had closed early.  Odd, but considering most of the villagers had made their way to the festival grounds, it made sense.  Knocking on the door and walking in he took a seat in the main room and poured himself a drink from the tea kettle.  Perhaps he was too comfortable in this house, perhaps that was a good thing…
    “Sorry to keep you waiting.”  Ami’s voice came from behind the sliding door which separated the room from the customer’s dining room.  Opening the door, Shiro was shocked to see Ami dressed in full festival garb.  Pink robe, with blue flame trimming and a bright gold obi, it was stunning.  Too stunning for words in fact, she began to look uncomfortable with the silence.  “Too flashy?  Not a good look for me?”
    Finally finding his words, Shiro shook his head.  “Not at all, the dress is lucky to be on as fine a lady as you.”  Taking her arm in his, he smiled and said, “Shall we?”
    The drums started beating by the time they were on their way, as the sun had set below the horizon; they would not stop beating until dawn finally came to the village, when the last embers of the great bonfire would finally be allowed to burn out.
    Ami greeted any of her friends on the way to the festival, Shiro smiled at seeing their faces spark with excitement upon seeing her, and then develop a slight shade of jealously when they thought they were out of sight.  The main path to the bonfire was lined with wood carvings from the artisans of the village, with pride they passed near a dozen of the ones he had carved.  Each had a style matching the nature of the subject.  A wispy, almost cloud-like form to a carving of birds in flight; to a splintered, evoking the look of coarse haired, wolf statuette.  But the main attraction was the bonfire.
    The band started playing a song, and villagers were singing along.  Ami sat quietly for a moment and clapped along, it was not yet time to circle the bonfire as the tradition on Omoichidou was for the founding clans to take turns first before it became open for everyone else.  It was not a matter of superiority; he had come to understand it was about respect and honor.  Holding Ami’s hand as they looked at the couples dancing around the fire, he could feel her excitement.  While she adored the elegant dancing he had taught her, it was obvious that her inner child had always wanted to dance the Obon with pride.
    Young children, teenagers, couples new and aged danced around the fire, though it was clear some danced a little too close by the way they rubbed their arms and moved away in a hurry at times.  All at once he felt Ami rest her head against him and she sighed.  The way she spends her days, waiting on customers, on their orders, then for the food to be cooked so she could deliver it, perhaps she was comfortable waiting – or perhaps waiting is simply made better when you’re with someone.
    “Ami, look at the couple over there.” Shiro pointed out to one of the elderly couples, rather than dance they simply trotted along as best they could considering their age.  “There’s a magic in the air tonight.  Perhaps I didn’t see it earlier because I was nervous, but now I can see it clearly.  Just look at those two.  Ask them how old they feel and I know they will tell you they are as young as the day they first fell in love.”
    “Why my dear Shiro, you are almost starting to sound like a native of Omoichidou now.”  Lifting her head, she nudged her shoulder against his and smiled.  A change in song marked the end of the founding clan’s march, and the festival was now officially open, from food stalls to games and stores, but most importantly the bonfire dance.
    Taking Ami by her hands, Shiro helped her to her feet and escorted her to the ring marked with special colored sands forming a swirl pattern around the fire.  While the dance was known for sweeping gestures with the hands, the footsteps were the most important.  Stepping behind Ami, Shiro placed his left around her waist and help her right hand with his own right hand.
    Though this was their first Obon dance, it felt as though this was a dance they had done for years.  She would be overly cautious about her every move and make mistakes, he would react to her missteps.  Only time and a keen eye had taught him that there were no mistakes, no missteps.  She thought herself clumsy, without grace, but practice had helped them develop a style that was entirely hers.  Every time she began to stumble, Shiro would help shift her weight into a direction that took advantage of the change.  What could have been a trip became a bow and a quick turn.  Falling over backwards was prevented by Shiro spinning her right hand, turning her towards him.  Sure enough their dance began to draw some cheers and whistles from observers.  But the best part was her laughter, even despite all their practice one of their spins led them to butt heads into each other.
    Standing face to face, her marching slowly backwards, him walking in step towards her, the words just came out.  “Ami, will you marry me?”  Her hands gripped his suddenly and her feet stopped altogether as people continued the dance around them.  “I’ve decided I want to stay here.  I’m going to build a house, stop sleeping out in the woods; I’m going to take up honest work in construction, I… I want to start a life with you, if you’ll have me.”
    Letting go of his hands, Ami turned around and started dancing again.  Shiro walked in silence behind her, not really knowing what he was expecting.  The sight of her ankle twisting again and his reflexes sprang into action, catching her in another spin towards him.  Her arms wrapped around his chest in a tight hug.  “Do you promise to always catch me when I fall?  Will you always be there for me?  Will you be mine, always?”
    “I promise.”
    “Then yes.”  Tears in her eyes, she grinned and stood up on the toes of her sandals.  Leaning forwards, Shiro met her lips with his own and kissed her.  The bonfire burned brightly in the night, like the moon in the sky.  Astronomers claim the moon reflects the light of the sun, the Priests in Omoichidou hold a similar opinion about the stars, that their light reflects the light in the hearts of lovers old and new.  With a sky so vast, there was sure to be enough space for the star Shiro and Ami light that night, surely there’s enough space enough for everyone.