A Love Story Between the Moon and a Wolf

The skirt of her kimono snakes a blue fluorescent zigzag through sparkling waters, teasing the surface with silk-like fingers to create a few moments of chaos on otherwise still waters. Koi fish circle her bare feet, brushing their fluttery fins in flicks of comfort as they wade about her.

But the calm the lake and fish offer only deepens the ache that presses against her ribs, subdued only by the pattering of her salty tears plopping into the lake’s expanse.

Their streaks left fire in their wake, reminding her of her sorrows and woes. Her watery eyes scan the sandy shoreline, riddled with flat stepping stones. Her eyes linger on the tall yellow reeds, waving in the soft echoing wind.

In the billowing yellow, she couldn't find a hair of his coarse mane or a speck of his icy eyes that never failed to plunge his enemies into the deepest depths of the tundra. In a special place etched to the dirt with traces of their shared memories, she couldn't find a trace of him.

Her tears fall faster as she collapses into the icy water, and the fish flee having satisfied their appetite.

Memories float languidly in her mind. Memories of their time together splashing in the lake bed. She would lay where the water kisses the land and bask in the lapping swishes as he regales her with stories of the kashikoi kaeru-tachi and the hazukashigariya no kitsune that sometimes seek his counsel. Memories of the warmth he’d give her as she rested in his arms during the dreamy swell of an astronomical twilight.

Her mind drifts back to the last time her eyes graced him. It harrows her heart to realize that the last memory she has of him is a blurred visage of his weary, retreating frame as wanton hands cloak him with exposed palms and bent knees.

The sad part is she can’t remember when she started to lose him.

When did those warm memories fade into blurry recesses of missed moments?

When did those lips that graced her ears with bounds of mortal wisdom shut close like the Yomotsu Hirasaka?

Her lips quiver a little harder as the tears spill. Overcome by the devastating circulation, she lowers her gaze to the water below. She watches her rippling reflection.

What greets her is a ghost of the goddess she once was. Her silver light, once whole and radiant, now lies scattered across the still surface. The silk of her kimono hangs heavy and uneven. Its once-glowing folds have dimmed to a tired shimmer. Beneath the wavering surface, her face warps and folds in on itself, reshaped by every gift she’s given away: a piece to this worshipper, a smile to that beggar, a blessing to those who would drain her dry. Most would mistake her for a beggar, sitting on the corner of a well that has nearly run dry.

Around her, the night refused to be quiet. It lives around her even in the shadows. Crickets beat their songs in the tall grass while cicadas join in from the trees with their own throaty undertones; hiding from the owls that join in as well with their high pitched hoots.

The music swirls around her. It sweeps her into a reminiscent tornado of days spent tangled in duetting in serenading symphonies a few feet away from where she’s wallowing.

Spurred on by nature’s orchestra, the moon goddess opens her mouth and begins to sing.

Watashi wa mizu no nagare o aruki

Kishi no subete no sen ni anata o sagasu

Demo anata wa inai

Soshite watashi naku

Yami no naka ni mo hikari wa aru

Anata wa watashi no mono, watashi mo anata no mono

Anata wa watashi o sasaete kureta

Hoka no hito no tame ni kagayakeru yō ni

Demo anata wa shirizokimashite

Yoso no hitobito no naka ni magirete nigemashita

Atama o tare, te o mune ni kakushite

Namida ga me no sumi ni tamatteita

Demo shinpai shinaide

Watashi wa anata no moto e iku

Anata o kurayami kara sukuidasu tame ni

Hoshi no uma ni natte

Anata o watashi no ie e tsuremodosutame ni

Her song traveled farther than she knew.

Salt water assaults his nose in bursts of fire, wading into his nostrils and soaking into his tresses. He slows his gait to a stop on top of the rose gold sand, and takes in the swishing of the waves onto the man-made shore. He shakes himself free of the invading grains. He finds that the irritating mineral has a habit of sticking to places where they don’t belong.

The sun saturates his skin, forming a thin layer of sweat on his skin. Nothing he isn’t used to, but the heat of the beach hits him differently. The perspiration doesn’t cling to his skin in a sticky claustrophobia. He barely notices it.

It’s different to say the least, being able to move forward without the rustling of vegetation or snagging his fur on snarled tree trunks.

The air here feels refreshing. It brushes his hair in soothing strokes, combing his agitation into a serene relaxation that mirrors the repetitious namioto.

Though the sounds are unfamiliar to him: the squawking of scavenging kamome skirting the ocean for leaping sakana and the faint whooshing of the breeze brushing through the palm tree leaves. It’s a sweet sense of peace, the kind that allows a lifetime of introspection.

It’s painfully alien. Every new sound reminds him of what he’s left behind.

It reminds him of the loneliness pressing down on his chest, heavier than ishi the cursed onna was forced to carry on her back.

He misses the melodic arguments of the semi and the koorogi, the idle croaking of the kaeru’s triumphant adventures, and the squeaky little whimpers of the kisune’s timid woes.

The sounds of the marsh are alive within his soul, still clinging to his every thought while sitting close to his breast.

She clings even closer.

Her sweet symphony haunts his soul, following him with an everlasting persistence to never let him forget her. Even now, he still feels the sustenance of her soft embrace when she used to engulf him in her arms.

Suiren and kishōba were their only witnesses those nights, when she was at her peak and it was just them among the gama and the mitsugashiwa. In those moments, he was hers and she was his.

Those moments that seemed to stretch forever seem so short in comparison to the time she spent away from him. The times he spent giving away pieces of herself to bless the unsatisfiable.

On those bleak days, not even his howls could reach her.

He had to go. His heart could only take so much.

He watches the sea, watching its ebb and flow. If he listens closely enough, he can hear her ethereal song calling him back home.

So in honor of her sweet memory, he opens his mouth and sings his own song to the ocean, in remembrance of the duets they used to sing together…

Kaze wa watashi no kao o nazoru

Anata no uta ga tsuki no naka de naku

Demo sono koe wa tooi

Kagayaki no naka ni usurete iku

Watashi wa mori no kage ni ikiteiru

Anata no hikari ni yakareta karada de

Anata wa subete ni kagayaku

Demo watashi ni wa mou me o mukenai

Watashi wa anata o aisuru

Soredemo sono ai wa kage ni kawatta

Anata no tame ni hoerozu

Tada seijaku no naka de anata o matsu

Moshi anata ga mata utaeba

Sono koe wa kaze ni notte watashi ni todo くだろう

Sono toki made

Watashi wa yoru to tomo ni ikiyou