The Legend of the Mountain Village

第二章

"Left- left a little!"

I did as instructed, leaning the giant stack of bamboo up and to the left. Felt Kankatsu's hands around the sides as we both wrangled the ends into the pit we'd dug earlier until they stood upright. We pulled back after ensuring they wouldn't fall, breathing heavy, just as several other young men finished with their own. Now on either side of the main path within the village stood tall bunches of fresh-cut bamboo tied in three places with thick red rope. All around the village, fathers put their sons to work like us- hauling bamboo, arranging low tables, setting up the trellis. Mothers and daughters directed servants as they arranged seemingly never-ending rows of dishes upon tables. Even the servants had designated time for celebration these next twelve days of the festival. All women, no matter young or old, were dressed in their finest kimonos of all sorts of brilliant colors- mixes of red, white, blue, green, thick and flowing, ornate and embossed with beautiful designs. Some had their long hair up in heavy buns, others had theirs braided into twisted and elaborate knots. Others were left long and flowing with only a half bun atop their heads. In all of them, however, sat pretty pins of different rock to decorate, some with hanging ornaments that rang lightly as they laughed or turned their heads. Lips were stained blood red, eyes were shadowed with yellow ochre, complexion was lightened with powder. They shone as though bright stars had fallen into the forest.

I turned to Kankatsu, holding my stomach and sighing. He took a deep breath, wiping the dirt from his hands. "You'd better get out of those clothes before Ema sees you," he said, nodding his head to the right. I followed his gaze over the bustle of people and saw her- standing out like a swan amongst ducks. She wore a graceful white kimono over a dark red interior, with a matching obi of thin and supple silk-like material. Her thick brown hair was done up in one large bun held together by two slate pins, though two locks were left hung on either side of her face, framing her perfect dimples and dark brown eyes. She smiled at something her mother said, and it seemed the world lit ablaze with light.

At the sight of the trellis being carried through the trees, all of us boys raced back to our houses to change into our festival clothes- partially because that meant it had begun, and partially because we didn't want to be put to more work helping move it. I sped through the house to my room, changing as quickly possible into my dark blue umanori hakama and haori jacket, adorned with a pair of white flying cranes. Quickly wiped the lingering sweat from my brow and straightened my half-topknot, running my fingers through the long black hair left hanging to remove any tangles. Tied the white rope around my waist under the jacket, but instead of my practice swords I slid open the small closet shoji door and reached up to the top shelf. From there I pulled my katana and tanto.

I admired the handiwork and the clear craftsmanship. Both sheathes were red pine stained black. An ornate red dragon clung to the sides, crawling up and down the sheath in a deep-cut carving, even down to the teeth. A clear-coat of resin protected against chips and cracks, and I made sure to oil it often. The hilts of both the katana and the tanto were so well fit that the seam where they separated was near invisible. Kankatsu had made this for me with the help of his father as his first real blacksmithing project several years ago, and I was amazed by the intricacy.

After sliding into my shoes, I raced back out the door and followed the sounds of music and chanting. Past the nearest houses and up the mountain, where the main footpath was adorned with the posts of tied bamboo, the tables of food, the hung lanterns, the spells and wishes written on paper talismans. Glanced over the small crowd of people and combed through the faces. Our village wasn't too large- I'd heard that some have thousands of people. I couldn't imagine it, but apparently the traders that were rarely tasked to travel down the mountain had come back with stories they've been told about other lands. This seemed like more than enough people. By the display of wild mountain flower arrangements stood young girls with their mothers. At the stall of wooden play swords fought the young boys, without a care in the world. I remembered several seasons ago being one of them. There at the food stall stood my mother and father, each in their elegant matching kimonos. Searching... There. I gently pushed through the bodies, careful to step around the running children, until I stood before her. She turned her paled face towards me and smiled wide with ruby lips, genuine and playful. I smirked in return, bowing low with my hands at my sides. "Greetings."