Kouryuu finished his chores and stood looking at his master, violet eyes burning into the back of Koumyou ’s neck until finally the boy gathered the energy and whatever thoughts he required to speak.
“Is the story true, about the beast who ripped out throats for the sheer joy of mutilation?”
Koumyou sighed around his pipe. He had expected the question, and even the tone. It was not dubious, or incredulous. Simply curious. “It is not”
“I see. Thank you,” Kouryuu replied, and began to unfold his futon onto the floor.
“You should understand,” Koumyou continued, “that it was misunderstood.”
Kouryuu blinked up at his master. “But Jin said that it ripped out the throats of hundreds of children,” he said. He didn’t sound frightened, just curious. “That it was evil.”
“It was searching for itself,” Koumyou replied. “It needed to feel what it was that supposedly made it evil.”
“It made itself evil because it was evil, then?”
“It became evil because people made it out to be evil,” the man elaborated. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning”
Kouryuu nodded up at him, eyes wide. Koumyou sighed. “Alright, but you must go to sleep right after. It is late even for me to be up.”
Kouryuu considered that, and nodded. “Let me get your tea and then I’ll be in bed, and be asleep as soon as you’ve finished.”
Koumyou smiled slightly, and nodded. He had of course he had told his ward stories before. They served careful points. He didn’t recall having ever told the boy a bedtime story before. He settled himself at the small table in the center of the room, spinning the tale and the lesson together. A beginning and a middle. No end. It didn’t do to have an end to the stories.
This beast would have four legs, he decided as Kouryuu came back over, carefully carrying the hot water. He waited while the boy set down the water, carefully preparing the tea and handing it to him, and waited longer while Kouryuu slid between the layers of his futon, sitting cross-legged under the blanket portion.
“If you are prepared, I shall begin,” Koumyou said, ignoring the look from the boy that seemed to indicate that this was an explanation he was about to receive, not a Zen riddle. “Many years ago,” Koumyou began, “there was a blind man who lived in the woods, high up on a mountain. Having outlived his family, he did not have the money to go to the village and take up residence there.”
Kouryuu seemed to realize that this was not going to be a short explanation, and shifted slightly, pulling his pillow behind his hips as a sort of rudimentary backrest. His eyes, however, never left his master’s face.
“One day, the old man was walking within the woods, when he heard a sound that put him in mind of an injured dog. Cautiously, he moved towards it and, as he got closer, the cloying scent of rotting flesh began to fill his nose. Cautiously, he used touch, smell, and hearing to paint the picture of a dead, rotting mother wolf, surrounded by the corpses of her litter.”
Kouryuu gazed up at him, “What killed them?”
Koumyou smiled and shook his head. “Perhaps a bear, or perhaps hunters, he could not see that far back with his limited senses. But the sound he’d heard had been from one of the pups, the only one to survive.
“Believing it to be the right, good thing to do, the old man picked up the pup and carried it carefully back to his cabin. There, he stroked his hands over it, uncovering its mysteries. It was injured, its head damaged.”
Kouryuu’s eyes narrowed, and although he did not say it loudly enough to interrupt the story, he muttered something about men and clubs under his breath. Koumyou simply continued the story.
“He treated the wounds as well as he could, taking care of the damage he could recognize, and miraculously the wolf began to heal. It became the man’s closest friend, staying by his side always, unless he went into the village. As they reached the border, the wolf would melt into the woods, and wait for his rescuer to return, so they could go back up the mountain together.”
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ninetydegrees
Wolf at the Door 1/3
on 2007-11-18 11:01 am (UTC)Kouryuu finished his chores and stood looking at his master, violet eyes burning into the back of Koumyou ’s neck until finally the boy gathered the energy and whatever thoughts he required to speak.
“Is the story true, about the beast who ripped out throats for the sheer joy of mutilation?”
Koumyou sighed around his pipe. He had expected the question, and even the tone. It was not dubious, or incredulous. Simply curious. “It is not”
“I see. Thank you,” Kouryuu replied, and began to unfold his futon onto the floor.
“You should understand,” Koumyou continued, “that it was misunderstood.”
Kouryuu blinked up at his master. “But Jin said that it ripped out the throats of hundreds of children,” he said. He didn’t sound frightened, just curious. “That it was evil.”
“It was searching for itself,” Koumyou replied. “It needed to feel what it was that supposedly made it evil.”
“It made itself evil because it was evil, then?”
“It became evil because people made it out to be evil,” the man elaborated. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning”
Kouryuu nodded up at him, eyes wide. Koumyou sighed. “Alright, but you must go to sleep right after. It is late even for me to be up.”
Kouryuu considered that, and nodded. “Let me get your tea and then I’ll be in bed, and be asleep as soon as you’ve finished.”
Koumyou smiled slightly, and nodded. He had of course he had told his ward stories before. They served careful points. He didn’t recall having ever told the boy a bedtime story before. He settled himself at the small table in the center of the room, spinning the tale and the lesson together. A beginning and a middle. No end. It didn’t do to have an end to the stories.
This beast would have four legs, he decided as Kouryuu came back over, carefully carrying the hot water. He waited while the boy set down the water, carefully preparing the tea and handing it to him, and waited longer while Kouryuu slid between the layers of his futon, sitting cross-legged under the blanket portion.
“If you are prepared, I shall begin,” Koumyou said, ignoring the look from the boy that seemed to indicate that this was an explanation he was about to receive, not a Zen riddle.
“Many years ago,” Koumyou began, “there was a blind man who lived in the woods, high up on a mountain. Having outlived his family, he did not have the money to go to the village and take up residence there.”
Kouryuu seemed to realize that this was not going to be a short explanation, and shifted slightly, pulling his pillow behind his hips as a sort of rudimentary backrest. His eyes, however, never left his master’s face.
“One day, the old man was walking within the woods, when he heard a sound that put him in mind of an injured dog. Cautiously, he moved towards it and, as he got closer, the cloying scent of rotting flesh began to fill his nose. Cautiously, he used touch, smell, and hearing to paint the picture of a dead, rotting mother wolf, surrounded by the corpses of her litter.”
Kouryuu gazed up at him, “What killed them?”
Koumyou smiled and shook his head. “Perhaps a bear, or perhaps hunters, he could not see that far back with his limited senses. But the sound he’d heard had been from one of the pups, the only one to survive.
“Believing it to be the right, good thing to do, the old man picked up the pup and carried it carefully back to his cabin. There, he stroked his hands over it, uncovering its mysteries. It was injured, its head damaged.”
Kouryuu’s eyes narrowed, and although he did not say it loudly enough to interrupt the story, he muttered something about men and clubs under his breath. Koumyou simply continued the story.
“He treated the wounds as well as he could, taking care of the damage he could recognize, and miraculously the wolf began to heal. It became the man’s closest friend, staying by his side always, unless he went into the village. As they reached the border, the wolf would melt into the woods, and wait for his rescuer to return, so they could go back up the mountain together.”