Information

Chawan
Legacy Name: Chawan

The

Nostalgic Noktoa
Owner:

Chellowings

Age: 8 years, 4 months, 1 week

Born: January 10th, 2016

Adopted: 7 years, 2 months ago

Adopted: March 17th, 2017

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

Their tiny hometown in rural Japan is rarely named on tourist maps. With a population of less than three hundred people, its occupants often joke that it is merely a village not worthy of the title of town. Their small houses are not luxurious but they do enjoy the modern conveniences of indoor plumbing and electricity. They are country folk, not barbarians.

Still, there are some things one cannot find in such a community. The boxes of tea purchased at the local market are fine on occasion, but even those that boast authentic flavors cannot come close to the rich aroma of a fresh-brewed cup prepared at a real tea shop.

Akane Chawan learned to appreciate a truly good cup of tea from Megumi. The girl has learned many things from Megumi, her grandmother, confidante, and guiding light in life. Akane could live through the burning of a thousand suns and still she would never find an adequate way to repay her love and appreciation for the woman who gave her a chance at life.

*****

She'd heard the story so many times that she couldn't be sure which parts she truly remembered and which had been painted in her mind by the imagination of others.

Her mother had been the village wild child, getting into trouble with the law at just thirteen years old. Her father was the son of a soldier killed in a foreign land, a man who came to scorn the government workers who tried to keep him in school. Akane was conceived at a concert for some rock star whose music was all the rage in America. At fifteen, Haruka gave birth to the daughter she did not want. At eighteen she grew too disgusted with the husband forced on her to tolerate one more day in his presence.

Juro didn't just drink; he drowned himself in alcohol every night. Akane has always pretended to have no memories of the man who threw the ivory vase so close to where she was playing that she felt the rain of glass shards on the back of her romper. When he was too drunk to stagger from one room to the next, he would lie in the middle of the main room and moan like a trapped ghost. Akane used to have such nightmares, visions no four year old should ever have to view.

One summer night, Juro forgot to lock the front gate. A kindly old lady found Akane wandering down by the railroad tracks, her pudgy hands smeared with dirt from the weeds she'd put together for a bouquet.

There was no legal battle for her custody. Her father didn't even bother to show up at the hearing that would determine her future. She vaguely remembered the house with pink walls where she had stayed for a few weeks until her grandmother could come to claim her.

The middle-aged woman was her mother's mother, a rather frightening figure with silver hair in a bun and stern eyes. It took Akane a while to realize how many of Megumi's wrinkles were actually laugh lines. Megumi insisted on respect and would take no lip from children but she knew how to sing Akane to sleep when the girl was feverish and she made brilliant little finger puppets out of felt that Akane could put through all sorts of silly adventures. Akane had believed for years that Megumi had a piece of the sun inside her, or perhaps a ball of starlight. Her grandmother was something so much more wonderful than human. She was like the heroes in all the best cartoon shows on TV only better. She didn't go away for an entire week after half an hour.

*****

The bar that holds up Akane's vast collection of kimonos is bowed slightly on the right side from heavy use. The lovely dresses come in a variety of gorgeous floral patterns and bright colors, many woven from cotton with a few very special dresses that are made from more traditional silk.

A teak treasure box holds her assortment of combs that she uses to pin up her long black hair. Most of these are made with paste stones though she does have one set wrapped in velvet that has tiny ruby hearts on the flowers. Her grandmother gave her the birthstone gift on her golden birthday last year when she turned nineteen.

Today's selections are a white kimono with dark blue flowers and a pair of silver combs with flowers that boast imitation sapphires.

Megumi is always teasing her about her height. It is fortunate she is a petite child or she could never afford the cloth needed to make so many pretty things. She knows her grandmother is truly proud of her beauty, though she's not sure she agrees with the reason. In Megumi's days of youth, a petite woman was one almost guaranteed a good husband. Akane isn't sure she will ever marry, not after holding the hands of far too many high school friends going through the heartache of the latest break-up.

She will not even bring to mind the disaster of her own parents. She secretly pretends they are both dead and working on repentance in the spirit world. For all she knows, it could very well be true.

She runs a comb through her straight hair, smiling a bit as she thinks back on how she and her friends tried so hard to curl their long locks like the cool girls on TV. They never did succeed. Now she is glad for this symbol of her culture and womanhood. She would not trade her hair for any other style.

Another memory comes to her, one that causes her to shudder. It was one of her father's rare moments of near sobriety. He had caught her by the arm, sitting her on his lap. Perhaps it had been a way of trying to show affection. She'd never quite been sure. He had started brushing out her hair which already hung to her waist at that age. The motion had been soothing at first but at the first tangle, she had cried out and began to squirm. It did not take much to make him angry. Grabbing a scissors from the nearby drawer, he had cut her hair until it barely covered her ears. For weeks, she cried every time she looked in the mirror.

She begins to run through the writing symbols for the hundred words taught to her as a child. The memory task requires concentration and banishes thoughts presented by bad spirits, allowing her to control the tears that want to spill from her eyes. By the time she joins her grandmother in the kitchen, she is calm.

Megumi always takes the time to greet her many friends on the way to the train station, inquiring about their health and exchanging tips for gardening. Sometimes the two blocks can take them forty minutes to walk yet they have never once missed their train.

Megumi studies the pair of young men smoking their cigarettes on the edge of the platform with obvious disapproval. One has aqua spikes of hair and skull earrings while his friend boasts long platinum locks that are tied with a headband complete with a trio of purple feathers and a belt that seems to be made of metal discs painted to look like gold. In her mind, Akane quickly names them Spike and Bling.

It is Spike that leers in her direction, bending to whisper something in Bling's ear. She sets her face like a stone as their eyes travel up and down her body. If Megumi could see the sweat trickling between her shoulder blades, she would surely scold. Statues do not sweat.

The whistle of the train is a relief. The pair of city boys shove each other in their hurry to be the first ones on, nearly tripping a man in a business suit that is going home for the day. He gives them a look but says nothing as Akane and Megumi step into the compartment.

"Eeeewww. What is that smell?" Bling plugs his nose, sneering in the direction of an old man sitting on the last unoccupied bench.

Spike follows his lead, gagging and acting as if he's going to topple over. "I can't believe we have to stand here but there's no way I'm sitting next to that."

The old gentleman is dirty and the canes resting at his side reveal his ailment but there is a silent dignity that makes Akane want to take hold of the ears of those unruly boys and smack their heads together.

You only get the number of breaths granted by the gods. There's no point in wasting one on a fool. It is one of Megumi's favorite sayings but Akane cannot help shooting one glare in the direction of the obnoxious passengers. They sneer in return, making kissy faces and rude hand gestures. She looks away in disgust as they laugh. Mekumi does not lower her gaze but glares her disapproval until the pair depart at the downtown stop, one before their own.

Akane takes some money from her purse, laying it in the lap of the old man. "I'm sorry you had to put up with those idiots. Please accept this gift as a token of respect. May the ghosts of their ancestors plague them until they learn some better manners."

He offers her a toothless grin and bows his head. Akane can feel Megumi's waves of approval as they come to their own stop and step onto the platform. Akane cannot resist being charitable. When she sees a person in need, she must do some little deed to make their day better. It is why she plans to study social work when she goes back to school in the fall. Her greatest dream is to help children like her, to be that special person that helps them to believe anything is possible, no matter where they came from.

The workers at the tea shop know them by name. There is no need to study the little cards set out for tourists. Akane and Megumi know exactly what they want and how they want it. Their cups of aromatic hoijcha are a perfect drink to enjoy while watching the sun set over the distant hills.

Story by Pureflower