The tale of Chiharu-Yamatsumi
This has been a long-awaited piece for many people who know of Chiharu-Yamatsumi. I’m so grateful I was able to put my ideas for Chiharu into words and develop a story of her life. As always, a huge thank you to the awesome proofreader (@shark ) who dedicated some of their time to read my rambling. A massive thank you to Boss Man, or (@RexLobo ), for chasing me up on my work and supporting me through writing this. Then, finally, last but not least, thank you, @Lycheeru , for picking the names for Eguchi Mari and Samebito. Bros saved my life before with names. Lastly, thank you to all my readers. I hope you enjoy the peaceful yet melancholic story of Chiharu-Yamatsumi, Karakura’s only Kami.
Once there were Mountains
The bittersweet sunrays danced along the long grass, swaying to the melody of another day. Bare feet tread on the barren plains of gold, reflecting the eddies that shifted and flittered through the sparse gaps of the arching tree. A figure stood below it, with long silk sleeves and a fluttering skirt carried by the whips of the wind—the whistle of a kite overhead aches in her heart; mortality calls again.
Swallowed by the roots of the arching tree, she descended once again, through the ebb and flow of time, of mortality and immortality, of the realms that divide them to an isolated island… Karakura. She tread along the island's flat surface again, sinking through dirt, sinking through sand, sinking through stone. The ground shuddered, trembled and hummed, as one layer arose covering another. Another cycle complete, a band marked the monument; she stood alone on the tallest hill. Eyes squinted, staring far off over her creation. A ring that parallels the ocean, that forms a semi-circle in the south and clutters in the east. A sigh, her stroll done for the day, and the wind carried her back to the skies. Back to home, under the arching tree in the sea of gold, back to the comfort of summer and the whispers of winter. She will descend again and stroll her normal path again, creating a new band over the others.
Strolls formed lumps, lumps formed hills, hills formed mountains, mountains made cliffs, cliffs climbed higher and higher, brushing the dusted tops of intangible clouds. Yet she continued until she stood alone on the tallest peak of them all—the Kohaku mountain. Pausing at the tip, she gazed down at her work again and smiled. The hills that stretched their fingers along the island had risen to monumental mountains, kissed with snow and branded with bands of colour. Lines of ochre reds, quartz whites, and a thousand shades of grey marked each cycle she completed along her path. Now it was time for her to rest. A whistle broke the air as the kite soared high; it was time she ascended again. Back to the refuge and safety of the golden field. Tucked away under the arching tree in the realm belonging to the gods. A single glance back at her creation, she smiled and rose through the parting sky, and through the parting clouds. Home once more.
Rustling of the golden fields encased her. When was the last time she had descended? Years had passed as she spent each day resting after her work. Breaking the serenity, the whistle of the kite sounded as it soared through the blue sky, cutting through it with its sharp wings and dived below the cloud line. It was time she descended, back to the livelihoods that bustled under the arching trees' roots.
Humming a soft melody, she paused, then followed after the bird, floating below the gentle caress of the soil and roots, below the misty fingers of clouds, past her thousand odd bands and down to the small monastery wedged between two peaks. Her friend remained perched on a branch, screeching a farewell before taking flight back into the air just as a lantern takes to the skies with a severed thread. A humble shrine now stood in the once barren mountains. Thrumming with energy, as monks in bright colours rushed to and fro, while visitors wrapped in layers sat in solace or with friends chattering at scattered tables. Mortals seemingly at peace after all those years of torment. But not only were people frolicing here, immortals, kami, and peaceful spirits flittered through crowds, weaved through faces and strolled the grounds in serenity. A sanctuary amongst the mountains of Karakura.
Maybe she needed a change in scenery. So she settled down between both realms and rested.
Years passed, and the figure took on a mortal form, calling herself Chiharu to those she passed by. Shifting between her infinite years and temporary years as a mortal. She frequented the shrine, speaking to priests, maidens and the odd spirit who confronted her. In her daily trips to the monastery, Chiharu met a young man called Eguchi Mari. Since that day, many of Chiharu’s hours were spent with her dear friend Eguchi, obvious to the time that began to fly. As the hours began to stretch into days, and days began to wane and then wax with the seasons, every moment spent with Eguchi, he taught her something new. He taught her about love, loss, impermanence and permanence, the possible and impossible, teaching her how to dance, laugh and find joy in the moment. Sharing stories from his life and the lessons he learned, Eguchi and Chiharu became inseparable. For the first time in the kamis life, a pin was placed in her endless existence marked by her cherished time with Eguchi. Her one and only friend.
“We’ll always be together.”
On the days she rested alone in the immortal realm, Chiharu would replay the joyous times she had shared with her friend and cherish them dearly. But… not everything good lasts forever.
The screech of a kite broke her slumber. Chiharu was rudely awakened by her feathered friend and watched in a daze as it broke the skyline, splitting the wall between the immortal and mortal realms. Its actions are sudden, not soft like her gentle ache to descend to mortality. Instead, sharp, like a knife, and a splitting pain tore through her. A feeling of sinking, then falling, overwhelmed her, as she was plucked from her slumber and sent tumbling through the air of the mortal realm. Halted before the raging flames of the burning monastery, chaos set in as mortal and immortal alike fled the kaleidoscope of reds, oranges and yellows. The impermanence of mortality sank into her bones, and in a moment of panic, Chiharu’s form twisted to that of a mortal.
Dancing fingers of flames licked at her heels and bounded along trees and buildings. Amidst it all, Eguchi stood frantically waving people out, only to freeze at the piercing cry between the crumbling facade of the main hall. Without hesitation and before she could stop him, Eguchi had grabbed a small bucket filled with water and ran into the mess. In desperation, Chiharu followed, watching in horror as flames burst through doors and wooden beams crumbled between them. Leaving only Chiharu with a way out… and Eguchi at the mercy of the fire. As if time froze, between the slicing flames, the cackling roar of fire and the groaning wooden frame of the foundations, he turned around.
“Maybe this is the end.”
The flames chewed through the last beam, and a splitting crack sounded as dust shoved through the little spaces, and the roof caved in. All noises swallowed the cry from the lonely figure standing in the arch, which once marked the entrance to a ceremony hall.
The bittersweet sunrays danced along the long grass, swaying to the melody of another day. Bare feet tread on the barren plains of gold, reflecting the eddies that shifted and flittered through the sparse gaps of the arching tree. A figure stood below it, with long silk sleeves and a fluttering skirt carried by the whips of the wind—the whistle of a kite overhead aches in her heart; mortality calls again.
Swallowed by the roots of the arching tree, she descended once again, through the ebb and flow of time, of mortality and immortality, of the realms that divide them to an isolated island… Karakura. She tread along the island's flat surface again, sinking through dirt, sinking through sand, sinking through stone. The ground shuddered, trembled and hummed, as one layer arose covering another. Another cycle complete, a band marked the monument; she stood alone on the tallest hill. Eyes squinted, staring far off over her creation. A ring that parallels the ocean, that forms a semi-circle in the south and clutters in the east. A sigh, her stroll done for the day, and the wind carried her back to the skies. Back to home, under the arching tree in the sea of gold, back to the comfort of summer and the whispers of winter. She will descend again and stroll her normal path again, creating a new band over the others.
Strolls formed lumps, lumps formed hills, hills formed mountains, mountains made cliffs, cliffs climbed higher and higher, brushing the dusted tops of intangible clouds. Yet she continued until she stood alone on the tallest peak of them all—the Kohaku mountain. Pausing at the tip, she gazed down at her work again and smiled. The hills that stretched their fingers along the island had risen to monumental mountains, kissed with snow and branded with bands of colour. Lines of ochre reds, quartz whites, and a thousand shades of grey marked each cycle she completed along her path. Now it was time for her to rest. A whistle broke the air as the kite soared high; it was time she ascended again. Back to the refuge and safety of the golden field. Tucked away under the arching tree in the realm belonging to the gods. A single glance back at her creation, she smiled and rose through the parting sky, and through the parting clouds. Home once more.
Rustling of the golden fields encased her. When was the last time she had descended? Years had passed as she spent each day resting after her work. Breaking the serenity, the whistle of the kite sounded as it soared through the blue sky, cutting through it with its sharp wings and dived below the cloud line. It was time she descended, back to the livelihoods that bustled under the arching trees' roots.
Humming a soft melody, she paused, then followed after the bird, floating below the gentle caress of the soil and roots, below the misty fingers of clouds, past her thousand odd bands and down to the small monastery wedged between two peaks. Her friend remained perched on a branch, screeching a farewell before taking flight back into the air just as a lantern takes to the skies with a severed thread. A humble shrine now stood in the once barren mountains. Thrumming with energy, as monks in bright colours rushed to and fro, while visitors wrapped in layers sat in solace or with friends chattering at scattered tables. Mortals seemingly at peace after all those years of torment. But not only were people frolicing here, immortals, kami, and peaceful spirits flittered through crowds, weaved through faces and strolled the grounds in serenity. A sanctuary amongst the mountains of Karakura.
Maybe she needed a change in scenery. So she settled down between both realms and rested.
Years passed, and the figure took on a mortal form, calling herself Chiharu to those she passed by. Shifting between her infinite years and temporary years as a mortal. She frequented the shrine, speaking to priests, maidens and the odd spirit who confronted her. In her daily trips to the monastery, Chiharu met a young man called Eguchi Mari. Since that day, many of Chiharu’s hours were spent with her dear friend Eguchi, obvious to the time that began to fly. As the hours began to stretch into days, and days began to wane and then wax with the seasons, every moment spent with Eguchi, he taught her something new. He taught her about love, loss, impermanence and permanence, the possible and impossible, teaching her how to dance, laugh and find joy in the moment. Sharing stories from his life and the lessons he learned, Eguchi and Chiharu became inseparable. For the first time in the kamis life, a pin was placed in her endless existence marked by her cherished time with Eguchi. Her one and only friend.
“We’ll always be together.”
On the days she rested alone in the immortal realm, Chiharu would replay the joyous times she had shared with her friend and cherish them dearly. But… not everything good lasts forever.
The screech of a kite broke her slumber. Chiharu was rudely awakened by her feathered friend and watched in a daze as it broke the skyline, splitting the wall between the immortal and mortal realms. Its actions are sudden, not soft like her gentle ache to descend to mortality. Instead, sharp, like a knife, and a splitting pain tore through her. A feeling of sinking, then falling, overwhelmed her, as she was plucked from her slumber and sent tumbling through the air of the mortal realm. Halted before the raging flames of the burning monastery, chaos set in as mortal and immortal alike fled the kaleidoscope of reds, oranges and yellows. The impermanence of mortality sank into her bones, and in a moment of panic, Chiharu’s form twisted to that of a mortal.
Dancing fingers of flames licked at her heels and bounded along trees and buildings. Amidst it all, Eguchi stood frantically waving people out, only to freeze at the piercing cry between the crumbling facade of the main hall. Without hesitation and before she could stop him, Eguchi had grabbed a small bucket filled with water and ran into the mess. In desperation, Chiharu followed, watching in horror as flames burst through doors and wooden beams crumbled between them. Leaving only Chiharu with a way out… and Eguchi at the mercy of the fire. As if time froze, between the slicing flames, the cackling roar of fire and the groaning wooden frame of the foundations, he turned around.
“Maybe this is the end.”
The flames chewed through the last beam, and a splitting crack sounded as dust shoved through the little spaces, and the roof caved in. All noises swallowed the cry from the lonely figure standing in the arch, which once marked the entrance to a ceremony hall.
Then there were Storms
Mirroring the building, the figure crumbled to her knees, sobs shaking her whole body. As she shed tears amidst the chaos of the burning building, a kite screeched in the distance. Then a crack of lightning shot through the air, as if answering her cries… the sky opened, and rain poured. Large drops, like diamonds in the rough, fell from the heavens and bombarded the flames, swallowing them whole. Relentless and torrential wind followed the rain, slamming into the remaining rickety, charred, black structures of the Monastery. Lightning pierced the sky, and thunder growled overhead, fueled by the emotional calamity of her pain.
With one last crack of thunder, the figure's heart went cold and solidified in her cupped hands. Shuddering under each mournful sob until it could no longer withstand the pressure and cracked… shattering into a thousand pieces.
Karakura would forever suffer, a price paid for the loss of her dear friend and the broken heart she must nurture.
Following that day, she ascended again, back into the heavens and to the lonely arching tree, where its twisting roots cradled her and drove her down. Down down down into the heart of her creation, the Kohaku Mountain. There it grew, with no light but shielding its beloved from the raging storms she summoned. A punishment for the selfish actions of mortality.
“Protect my heart”
Said the kami. As her heart lay heavy in her hands.
“I will”
Said the arching tree.
Shielded by the arching tree, the figure relinquished the thousand pieces of her heart, scattering them across the mountains she rose. Each piece settled and shifted into bright green emerald stones, buried deep in the mountain range she called home.
The tears that fell from the kami's cheeks passed through the stones and dirt, through the wall between the realms and flowed down deep into the mountain range. Resting in the depths of the ear to form Apache tears. An endless reminder of the pain the figure harbours for the loss of her beloved friend.
Mirroring the building, the figure crumbled to her knees, sobs shaking her whole body. As she shed tears amidst the chaos of the burning building, a kite screeched in the distance. Then a crack of lightning shot through the air, as if answering her cries… the sky opened, and rain poured. Large drops, like diamonds in the rough, fell from the heavens and bombarded the flames, swallowing them whole. Relentless and torrential wind followed the rain, slamming into the remaining rickety, charred, black structures of the Monastery. Lightning pierced the sky, and thunder growled overhead, fueled by the emotional calamity of her pain.
With one last crack of thunder, the figure's heart went cold and solidified in her cupped hands. Shuddering under each mournful sob until it could no longer withstand the pressure and cracked… shattering into a thousand pieces.
Karakura would forever suffer, a price paid for the loss of her dear friend and the broken heart she must nurture.
Following that day, she ascended again, back into the heavens and to the lonely arching tree, where its twisting roots cradled her and drove her down. Down down down into the heart of her creation, the Kohaku Mountain. There it grew, with no light but shielding its beloved from the raging storms she summoned. A punishment for the selfish actions of mortality.
“Protect my heart”
Said the kami. As her heart lay heavy in her hands.
“I will”
Said the arching tree.
Shielded by the arching tree, the figure relinquished the thousand pieces of her heart, scattering them across the mountains she rose. Each piece settled and shifted into bright green emerald stones, buried deep in the mountain range she called home.
The tears that fell from the kami's cheeks passed through the stones and dirt, through the wall between the realms and flowed down deep into the mountain range. Resting in the depths of the ear to form Apache tears. An endless reminder of the pain the figure harbours for the loss of her beloved friend.
Now there are Memories
Silence swallowed the figure who remained alone in the mouth of the mountains. She was oblivious to the years that passed and the cycles of the seasons that marked new beginnings. In the time she slumbered, the Monastery was restored, its name changed to Shinsei Seinaru. The small valley, protected by the mountains, eventually housed a town… that slowly began to grow. Yet she remained still, under the arching tree, grieving, reliving and forgetting the painful memories of her life.
A kite screeched somewhere in the distance. She did not stir. The bird screeched again, closer to her this time, until she was bombarded by feathers and whistles summoning her out again.
With the chaos within her sanctuary under the arching tree, the figure reluctantly followed her friend out of her cove. Out beyond the murky depths of the cave and beyond the fingers of the earth, until she arose atop a mountain where the sun danced, and the wind whirled. Her feathered friend took off yet again, cutting through the dusty blue skies of winter and heading towards the restored monastery. She hesitated… would returning there heal her or destroy her? A lasting whistle from her friend sent tremors through her. She had to return.
Encouraged by her friend, she descended again, past the bands of time, through the mountains and down to the Shinsei Seinaru Monastery. Amidst the bustling of people, she wandered through the smiles, through the spaces, through the rooms until she paused at the main hall.
Silence swallowed the figure who remained alone in the mouth of the mountains. She was oblivious to the years that passed and the cycles of the seasons that marked new beginnings. In the time she slumbered, the Monastery was restored, its name changed to Shinsei Seinaru. The small valley, protected by the mountains, eventually housed a town… that slowly began to grow. Yet she remained still, under the arching tree, grieving, reliving and forgetting the painful memories of her life.
A kite screeched somewhere in the distance. She did not stir. The bird screeched again, closer to her this time, until she was bombarded by feathers and whistles summoning her out again.
With the chaos within her sanctuary under the arching tree, the figure reluctantly followed her friend out of her cove. Out beyond the murky depths of the cave and beyond the fingers of the earth, until she arose atop a mountain where the sun danced, and the wind whirled. Her feathered friend took off yet again, cutting through the dusty blue skies of winter and heading towards the restored monastery. She hesitated… would returning there heal her or destroy her? A lasting whistle from her friend sent tremors through her. She had to return.
Encouraged by her friend, she descended again, past the bands of time, through the mountains and down to the Shinsei Seinaru Monastery. Amidst the bustling of people, she wandered through the smiles, through the spaces, through the rooms until she paused at the main hall.
Of a Forgotten Kami
The figure couldn’t face those memories again, couldn’t face the pain again. But her friend remained perched on the roof and screeched encouragingly again. After so many years… it was time she faced her fears of the past and revisited Eguchi’s grave.
When she stepped through the arching doorway of the main hall and wandered through the old structure, she paused deep within. A small shrine stood alone, hidden behind the walls of the structure and tucked into the mountain. In the dim light gleamed a large emerald stone… a piece of her heart, her soul, her mortality and love. The small shrine stood out to her; it spoke to her and beckoned her closer. Until she could hear the murmuring of a young priest who sat alone in front of the shrine.
“Chiharu Yamatsumi, hear our prayers.”
Then it all finally hit her. Here in the silence of the Monastery, she stood alone in the small sanctuary. The figure smiled. She understood her purpose now and was aware that her sacrifices and pain were not in vain. A kami she was. A kami she would ever be. Chiharu stood there behind the priest in her silky kimono and opened her soul to the memories once more. To her mortality and immortality, to her friend Eguchi and her black-eared kite Samebito, who remained loyal to her in her darkest days. Now she understood her purpose: to be cherished and to cherish the smallest moments in life. Just as Eguchi had taught her all those years ago.
Chiharu Yamatsumi’s smile widened, and she listened to the priests pray before drifting off back to the nearby mountain that was bathed in the sun's golden rays. Chiharu drifted under the arching tree where she rested again. Content in understanding her purpose and pain.
Somewhere beyond the cave, a whistle sounded from a kite as it soared high into the sky.
Art done by @DivingBlues, please don't steal or repost
The figure couldn’t face those memories again, couldn’t face the pain again. But her friend remained perched on the roof and screeched encouragingly again. After so many years… it was time she faced her fears of the past and revisited Eguchi’s grave.
When she stepped through the arching doorway of the main hall and wandered through the old structure, she paused deep within. A small shrine stood alone, hidden behind the walls of the structure and tucked into the mountain. In the dim light gleamed a large emerald stone… a piece of her heart, her soul, her mortality and love. The small shrine stood out to her; it spoke to her and beckoned her closer. Until she could hear the murmuring of a young priest who sat alone in front of the shrine.
“Chiharu Yamatsumi, hear our prayers.”
Then it all finally hit her. Here in the silence of the Monastery, she stood alone in the small sanctuary. The figure smiled. She understood her purpose now and was aware that her sacrifices and pain were not in vain. A kami she was. A kami she would ever be. Chiharu stood there behind the priest in her silky kimono and opened her soul to the memories once more. To her mortality and immortality, to her friend Eguchi and her black-eared kite Samebito, who remained loyal to her in her darkest days. Now she understood her purpose: to be cherished and to cherish the smallest moments in life. Just as Eguchi had taught her all those years ago.
Chiharu Yamatsumi’s smile widened, and she listened to the priests pray before drifting off back to the nearby mountain that was bathed in the sun's golden rays. Chiharu drifted under the arching tree where she rested again. Content in understanding her purpose and pain.
Somewhere beyond the cave, a whistle sounded from a kite as it soared high into the sky.
Art done by @DivingBlues, please don't steal or repost
