儚い gojo satoru

(1) 鈴木

鈴木 suzuki
Suzuki (written: 鈴木 lit. "bell wood", "bell tree" or "bud tree") is a Japanese surname. It is said to have been named by the Hozumi clan (穂積氏) in the Heian period (794-1185), after suzuki, which means "the ears of rice piled up" in the dialect of southern Wakayama and Mie prefectures (also known as Kumano).

//

"Gen." Spoke the head of yōkais, summoning the kitsune yōkai that had been in deep slumber for a few centuries. Gen was notorious for her bell chimes—bells around her kitsune ears, her ears were a snowy white, fluffy just like a cloud resonating with the rest of her features. Bells around her waist band— She was wearing a traditional dress, kimono (着物), ripped on the sides for easier movement. Lastly, bells around a kind of sandal called geta (下駄 )— it has a flat wooden base elevated with two wooden "teeth", held on the foot with a fabric thong, which keeps the foot raised above the ground.

Gen was a nine tailed fox, one of the most well-known yōkais, many knew her name, but none knew her face. She had always been in slumber, not interested in the human world. She would rather meditate than waste her precious time on such predictable creatures. She had might and power yet she didn't have the will to kill, or did she?

No one who seeks to be mysterious can truly be, there's something about wanting the attention that gives them away. Gen had no such desire, her motives remain hidden and hence the allure. She had a stand-offish quality that dares contact without inviting it. She was independent and casual, nonchalant and slow to temper, analyzing situations with ease. She was kind but don't form emotional attachments often, though when she do she can be counted on to be truly heroic.

Gen was perfection, she was stunning. Her silky smooth hair, as white as the moonlight. Her eyes glistened, they were brighter than the stars and rounder than the moon. Her curves were sophisticated, her skin pale and smooth like a baby. It was as if every part of her was personally sewed to perfection. She looked like a doll. She didn't seem to be real, how could a living thing be so flawless? To be exact, she wasn't alive.

Kitsunes were known to be cunning and sly, they have mastered the arts of seduction. Without fail, they could dig into a man's heart and rip it all out with no remorse. It was effortless, men seemed to be all over them in just a matter of seconds upon meeting. What sickening creatures, men that is.

Unfaithful to their partners, men would seek sexual attention from women who weren't theirs. Men would sleep around with other women just because their partners don't "satisfy" them. How nauseating the idea, how wicked men are. Unfaithful men were worse than yōkais.

People generally see yōkais as demons, they feared yōkais due to some old folks' lore, they've never given the benefit of the doubt to yōkais. They never tried understanding them, they would run and scream their hearts out. Crazy.

Yōkais were grouped under one category, people viewed them as nothing more than a mere demon. They would curse and bite at them, wishing for their downfall. Their words sharp like a needle, piercing the heart that was too aloof to care.

In the expanse of green there are more hues than anyone has ever named, yet here they are for any eye to see. The land rolls as it always has, as if it feels that time and space are one thing, that it rolls through the ages as much as to the horizon. Over it is laid a path, one that branches through the opening of the village.

The village had been put to sleep under a blanket of white fog. The boughs glistened with frost; the air hung silent and cold. The only way in and out of the village was the rough pathing laced with moss and mold; each step taken, brings another dimension. The pathing had steps made brutally by sculpting the dirt and stones, rusted railings by the side as nothing more than a decor. Greeted by a torii (鳥居) known as a shrine gate before entering the village, where it symbolically marks the transition from the mundane to the sacred. It was odd to see the fields so quiet, the chicken and pigs hiding in the warm barns and pens instead of roaming. Kids would play around the shrine, whilst their parents prayed for their safety.

Amid the chattering trees, amid the mirth of laughing meadows, lived the humble little village, located beside the infamous Suzuki forest, the village was a family, for better or worse the folks knew one another. Despite the occasional squabble they were loyal, loving and protective of one another. The village was a hug of houses amid the green pastures.

Houses lit by candles and lanterns, they lived their lives out carefree. Their laughters blocked out their memories of the yōkai attack the village had faced a century ago. The old folks would warn the young ones not to step foot out of their houses once the clock strikes midnight. Claiming that the yōkais would be out and hunting for a prey, sticking their vicious fangs into humans they encountered.

The village had been living in peace and harmony for a century, they believed they won't be under another yōkai attack. Many began going out even in the middle of the night. They were so self-righteous they didn't believe in others. They wouldn't heed the advice, the wouldn't obey the laws given by the chief of the village , Toji Fushiguro.

Toji Fushiguro studied and mastered the sword, though he often seemed to be aggressive and rash, he knew his body could take it. He ensured the village's safety, though the village isn't as packed as his body, he still wanted to protect the few villagers he had. Megumi Fushiguro, his son, followed his footsteps.

The Fushiguro household were much respected by the folks, they protected the village and made sure each villager would have their share of food, water and essentials. The villagers were well taken care of in their care.