Genji's Tale

In the early weeks of the Eclipse, Genji Otsuka had considered the sumo least affected by the darkness that befell the land. The Shinto temple where he practised his traditions continued to perform the rituals in service of the community, and it seemed to keep the enervating atmosphere and spiritual despair at bay. But this was unfounded optimism, as Genji would subsequently discover. His mastery of the highest budo techniques grew, but he noticed a corresponding decline in the priestly efficacy of his temple clergy. Unbecoming suspicions grew, surely they were unwarranted. Perhaps a short time away from the temple was in order, a purification pilgrimage further up the mountains.

Genji's eyes had always been on the ring. For spirit. For tradition. For his ancestors. The Eclipse did not change that. But what was Sumo without Shinto? And if the priests and the rituals no longer could praise and appease the Kami? If the salt no longer cleansed the ring? What then?

Genji felt adrift in the storm. He looked to tradition. If the Kami were uneasy, Genji would find patience and strength. A journey was the answer. Succor for the spirit. Let the mountain, the river, and the path be his cleansing. Genji set out on the mountain paths, his purse full from recent winnings.

The first weeks were uneventful, but a dark and eerie night alone in a mountain hut brought back memories and voices he thought he'd left behind along with his left eye given as payment. He gripped his silver talisman tight that night repeating prayers of safety.

After that he determined to find shelter amongst others. A night of indulgent eating and drinking in a mountain side tea house was a good start. And that night, fate also introduced Genji to a fellow traveler at a table of cards, Kayo. Drinking together, Genji saw that Kayo was also searching... on a journey... of sorts. And something told Genji, that she needed a companion... for protection and to help her cleanse her spirit as well.

OOC:

Similar to Jiggidy, I'll go ahead and start to weave us together here. Happy to retract where the story doesn't make sense.

There was something amiss among the priests of Izushima Temple. Genji hadn't seen the guji, or chief priest for some weeks now, and his questions to the senior negi had gone unanswered, redirected. "Focus on your meditations." Which Genji did, victorious he was in his last match, the last time he descended from the mountain temple to the former capital city, Heian. If there was some problem, he was not privy to it. But the oppressive malaise lingered, stifling in the purple darkness of the eclipsed sky.

He needed to clear his head and centre his soul. And that meant some necessary moments away from his shinto sanctuary. It would take him half a day to reach the nearest post towns along Nakasendo Way, which was the main thoroughfare to travel to Heian, or all the way to imperial Yedo itself. In particular he was familiar with, and much fond of the simple tea house that overlooked the valley crossing and Owari Bridge.

He had timed himself to arrive near evening, and already could see the lights of the tea house from afar, a cheery contrast to the everpresent gloom. His path down the mountain slope was uneventful, no one climbed the route unless they were intent on visiting Izushima shrine. Some of the guests had chosen to sit outdoors, and Genji found his favourite spot taken, the corner that afforded the clearest view of the river below.

Genji arrived at the Owari Bridge tea house with sweat on his brow. He straightened himself as he approached thinking about a well earned dinner after his journey. He stopped with a audible "Hurumph" as he saw his favorite spot was taken.

There were two other tables available; Genji could settle for one of those. But the entire point of visiting Iwata Teahouse was to spend the evening in some degree of indulgence, and he looked forward to opening a cask of best sake with some of the regulars. Instead he had to contend with these strangers that flooded the place.