A Fox's Whisper

1: Ҝ卂乙ㄩ卄卂

The day was utterly still, and unlike most days, the sun was shining. It was a novel occurrence for Inazuma, land of perpetual storms. I don't mind the rain, but to feel the sun on one's skin is truly an experience unparalleled. It's a shame that seeing the sun is so rare.

I was resting under a maple tree near Musojin Gorge, reveling in the sunshine and the gentle breeze. Musojin Gorge is generally plagued by eternal thunderstorms, so I was lucky to be there at a time when the weather was so nice.

The maple trees by the Gorge are truly the most beautiful in the country, aside from those in Ritou, with their gently curving branches adorned with foliage. But I don't like the port city very much, so I often frequent the Gorge instead.
The red leaves of the trees paint the world with crimson regalia, and when you lean against the trunk and look up, it's a bright red mosaic against the sky.

I was acutely aware of the musty smell of the earth and the dry grass prickling my fingers as I trailed them back and forth along the ground in a mindless fashion. I shut my eyes for a while, listening to the silence.

I find the balance of nature to be fascinating. The wind howls and rages, but mountains refuse to be moved. The seas froth and foam, yet the next day they reflect the clear skies and clouds. There are enormous sakura trees that you can barely see the top of, and then there are flowers whose stems are no longer than my hand. Such perfectly scaled equilibrium never fails to amaze me.

Yet as I sat in such calm serenity, my mind free of any burdens, I was struck with the strange sense of being called. Not the typical manner of someone calling my name, but rather...that I was somehow needed, that something just might...happen.

I opened my eyes, glancing around. Musojin Gorge was to my right, and to my left stretched rocky ground covered in yellow grass and maple trees. Shrugging it off as merely my own imagination gone rogue, I leaned back against the tree and continued in the pensive quiet. Not a single gust of wind stirred a solitary leaf.

The cry of cranes as they soared across the sky pierced my ears, and again I opened my eyes to mark their flight. Their calls were sad, melancholy.
I've never really wondered why cranes sound so. To spend life making dismal songs is a tragedy, but perchance cranes mourn something I cannot see.

Cranes are majestic birds. Perhaps they have a reason for their sorrow. I wouldn't know; they've never told me. So I shall leave them to grieve as they fly, and I never question their mourning. Everything in the world had a reason to simply be.

The keening of the birds faded away, and again the strange tug of being called poked around my mind.

Sighing, I stood up. Maybe I was indeed needed and it was a sign from the gods above, guiding me on a quest. I never know if or when a sign from the gods will appear. Archons can sometimes be as fickle as we humans, depending on what they stand for.

I slowly trekked westward, the grass crackling underfoot. The sky was a hazy shade of blue, and not a cloud was in sight.
As I walked, I began to form a haiku in my mind. I've always been fond of haikus because of their simple way of presenting life.

Wind through golden grass
Sharing...

Hm. 'Sharing' seemed like the next best word, but I wasn't entirely certain where to go from there. I admit that my idle forms of poetry are lacking compared to those of great scholars and storytellers. As a boy, I spent more time counting the syllables of haikus to ensure that they were haikus than understanding the poems themselves.

Wind through golden grass
Sharing mysterious thoughts...

I clambered up a boulder to have a better vantage point of my surroundings. Off in the distance, the grass faded into a deep green and the skeleton of a great serpent resided there. It's one of the notorious landmarks of Yashiori Island, that snake skeleton. I had yet to see it in person.