Gone Crafting: A Short Geisha Tale

[latte 2238]

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

A tall Oyashi stood at the edge of the forest, shrouded by the morning mist. She had come with a purpose and was prepared with an array of tools. As she set off into the thick brush of the trees, however, the day ahead of her felt heavy and overbearing. Yet, she ventured forth.

Hina had never been good with words. She either said too little or too much, and nothing that left her lips ever seemed right. Thus, she had longed to connect her to the world in a way her feeble words never could. Though the choice of which instrument to craft seemed insignificant compared to all the other struggles she faced, it had tormented her for weeks. It was almost enough to stop her from venturing out that morning.

As she moved deeper within the woods, with an axe and crossbow in tow, she let the cogs in her brain churn. Outright, the Shamisen seemed like the obvious choice. The delicate strings of the instrument vibrated with a soulful melody, yet could easily be made volatile. The versatility of the instrument called to her. . and yet, she was still stuck on a decision. The fue had called to her as well, the way its free-flowing sound offered a sense of happiness and peace, something she so desired.  And finally, there was the koto, though it was the last option, the instrument’s resonant strings spoke with of wisdom and strength, something she felt as if she lacked in her day-to-day life.

With a deep breath, Hina raised the axe and struck the first log. The sound of wood splitting echoed through the trees, and she focused on the rhythm of the task. Each swing of the axe grounded her, bringing her back to the earth. As the logs stacked up around her, her thoughts quieted, and in the solitude of the forest, she began to see clarity.

She needed to stop self-sabotaging herself, and stop second-guessing. And so, she would create the Shamisen, she would go with her gut.

Her hands were steady as she continued to work, cutting the wood with care and precision. But as she moved deeper into the woods, her sharp gaze flickered over and caught sight of an elk, its coat gleaming with the first light of dawn. Yes, what a perfect addition to her shamisen. With a quick, practiced motion, Hina unclasped her crossbow from her tool belt, sliding an arrow into the groove.

That evening, as the stars began to shimmer in the dark sky, Hina sat by the fire. The newly crafted shamisen was now in her hands. The wood, the strings, the spirit of the elk. Everything had come together as it would be, as fate had meant it to be. As she strummed the first notes, a sense of peace washed over her.

 

 

---

 

The next morning Hina traveled back to the lively capital of the Shugonate: Koyo-kuni with a Shamisen in one hand, and her heart on her sleeve. She had strummed some chords, practiced some sheet music the night before, and had deemed herself ready to perform in front of her peers - to strike the ire from their hearts with the melodic hum of her craft.

 

“Takemura-Sama!” her voice had rang upon spotting the familiar Oni. “May you listen to my craft for a moment?” The woman asked, lifting up her instrument.

 

“Yub’hai,  go ahead,” returned Takemura. 

 

And so, the shamisen was raised, and a leather belt kept the instrument upon her person as she played. With one hand kept to the neck of the instrument, the other held a plectrum at the box of the instrument. Her fingers plucked against the trio of strings, the plectrum starting to brush against them as well.

The sound emitted from the instrument was horrible, grating to the ears and the soul. Torture to listen to, even.

 

Takemura tried to be respectful to the best of his ability, though he did flinch when Hina had started to play.. quite terribly.. “Ah..”

Takemura had started off, nodding slowly, though being quite blunt. “Latsu are terrible.”

 

More people had come to the square, where Hina was performing, and offered comments of their own, and Hina had started to feel discouraged, both by her inability to produce a great melody, and by the disappointing words of those around her.

The Miko Nozomi had said “There… could be some room for improvement.” 

Despite the negativity surrounding the horrible musician, the woman carried on. The improvement of the music came and went, wavering between getting better and outright failure. And thus, more comments of the Koyo-Kuni citizens and Samurai were heard. 

Kato Ryuma said “Inconsistent it seems.”

 

“Latsu should really give up!” encouraged Takemura.

 

People came and went, perhaps those who went were repulsed by the gutteral sound. In the corner of her eye, Hina caught the form of the Samurai Danzen, most likely attempting to squeeze by in an attempt to not hear her music anymore. 

“Danzen-Sama!” Hina had called out, anyway. “Would you care to listen to some of my music?”

 

“Etto. . .” The Samurai started, “I heard the strumming before. I wanted to age quicker, so I would die.”

 

“Maybe Danzen wise words kan fix music?” called out Ahng Gulr, another Oni standing in the square.

 

And thus, a string of beautiful wise words of encouragement were heard from all the surrounding people!

 

““You remain clouded with doubts, and pressure . . . Clear your mind. Strum as your body tells you.”

 

“Ukee more power.”

 

“Strike the notes you undah'stand truly. It is better to be a master at few, than miserable at many . . .”

 

Admiral Takemura started to clap and cheer! He really liked the music, even though it was terrible!

 

“Give it your all, one last serenade!”

 

Through the encouragement of her peers, Hina found the will to remember her notes, she had found her inner flame that beckoned her to play - found the confidence previously lost. Thus, the music grew into a beautiful melody - the tempo of the strings evened out considerably, and the sound flowed together in a beautiful hum. The noise caressed the hearts and souls of those around, and did so until her very last chord.

Later that day, Hina went home with a smile on her face. There was much room for improvement, but the efforts of today were not in vain. Her pathway to Geisha hood would soon be carved out, one chord at a time.