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The forest is quiet. Leaves rustle with a breeze and the crickets chirp loudly, calling to each other. The sun is setting and Yahaba decides to set up camp as he drops his backpack onto an exposed root system, leaning his rifle against the trunk of the same roots. He stretches, leaning back slightly and pulling his arms over his head and sighing when his back pops. The hunter sits to ruffle in his backpack and pulls out a notebook and a pen. Yahaba checks the time on his watch and notes the sun’s position, writing the information down in jittery strokes. With the information written down, the hunter then pulls out a map and marks where he’s been and takes note of where he needs to be by tomorrow.
After checking and double-checking the map, Yahaba finally begins to set up his tent. He tucks the notebook and pen away and exchanges them for his tent and unhooks his sleeping bag from its carabiner. He shoves some foliage aside and begins setting up his tent, spiking out the supports where the corners would sit. Next, the hunter unfolds the floor fabric and canopy fabric, zipping them together and then sliding the support poles through the designated holes in the canopy fabric.
With a small huff, the last ring is secured and Yahaba stands back to check the tent’s stability and compare it’s camouflage to the rest of the forest floor. Satisfied, the hunter moves his backpack and rifle into the tent and unfurls his sleeping bag and pulls out his notebook again. But instead of writing in information Yahaba flips back and finds a page with a buck drawn on one page and a wolf drawn on the page across it. Both pages have descriptions of their respective animal, all written in the same even handwriting. According to the notes, both the wolf and the deer drawn are legendary creatures, with glowing antlers on the buck and glowing claws on the wolf. What makes these creatures legendary is that they’re thought to be the Guardian Deity of the forest Yahaba is currently in. He closes the notebook with a sigh and replaces it in his backpack, then settling into his sleeping bag.
The hunter startles at a sniffing noise by his ear. He quietly opens his eyes and slowly turns his head, as to not startle whatever animal is next to his tent. Keeping his heart calm, the hunter takes a deep breath and fully turns his head. He’s surprised to see teal glowing claws sitting right outside his tent. Yahaba has to keep from gasping and turns his eyes up to look at the wolf’s snout, eyes meeting the wolf’s cold gaze. The wolf stops sniffing and stands, keeping its sight on the hunter. The wolf starts to growl low and a shiver crawls up Yahaba’s spine, knowing that the sound is showing dominance and readiness for an attack. The hunter slowly sits up and starts reaching for his rifle, though he doesn’t really plan on shooting the goddamn Guardian of the Forest.
The wolf barks just as Yahaba’s fingers brush the gun’s barrel and he freezes. He’s basically holding his breath and the wolf seems to know that as it slowly walks around to the front of the tent. The glowing claws add an odd ambient light as it makes the surrounding forest seem more ethereal, the glow lighting up the wolf’s neck and chest area. The color is distracting and Yahaba’s eyes keep straying to look at the glow instead of the obviously more dangerous mouth.
But as soon as the wolf is there, it turns and walks away, its footsteps silent despite the leaves scattered on the ground and the crunching of the grass the hunter remembers hearing during the day.
The next morning, after writing about his meeting with the Guardian Deity last night. Yahaba changes into new hiking clothes and tucks the notebook back into his bag. The breaking of the camp is simply the reverse of the setting up camp, the sleeping bag is rolled back up, the canopy fabric and floor fabrics are refolded, and the support poles are collapsed. All the tent materials are then packed into their own bag, which is then tucked into Yahaba’s backpack. The hiker stands and pulls his backpack on, looking out to the forest and continuing on his way.
The day is hot but under the dense layering of trees, it’s significantly cooler in the forest, and Yahaba thanks the Deity. He eventually, stops at a creek to refill his water and rinse his hands. He takes his backpack off and sits, dropping a water purification pill into his refilled water bottle and pulling out his lunch. The meal is a simple one, beef jerky, some berries he foraged earlier, and piece of bread. The hunter eats quietly, both in part of wanting to hear the creek burble and listen out in case anything might come and attack him.
Yahaba finishes eating and unpacks a fire-starting kit and a small metal thermos. He gathers some dried leaves and branches and even finds dried moss, making the hiker grin a little wider. Setting up a small mound of twigs and leaves the hunter lights a small wad of dried moss and blows on it gently to makes the flames grow. Yahaba quickly places the moss against the rest of the twigs and leaves and cheers quietly as the material catches and a small fire is soon crackling.
With the fire going, the hunter finally leans over and fills the metal thermos with creek water and places it over the fire, slightly pushing the thermos in so the sides can be heated too. He sits back slightly and starts a timer to go off. With the water boiling Yahaba takes out the notebook and pen, flipping to the pages of the Guardian Deity and adding his own observations on the pages after, not wanting to ruin the pristine handwriting of his grandfather.
With the water boiled clean, the hunter pours it into his main water bottle and begins to repack. The metal thermos goes away, his main water bottle is hooked back to his backpack, and Yahaba even picks up the extra moss and puts it into a plastic baggie. With everything packed, he stands and opens his map.
The map itself is old, yellowed at the edges, and in some places, the ink has bled. But regardless, the map has been accurate so far and Yahaba has no motivation to stop using it. Even if the map had suddenly stopped being useful, the hunter would still use it sparingly, or at least keep it. He sighs and keeps walking, watching his footing.
Yahaba once again finds himself laying at the mercy of the wolf with glowing claws. Hours prior, the hunter had laid down to sleep, only to be woken up by the sounds of sniffing. He looks into the wolf’s eyes this time, hoping to find the reason why his God, this Guardian Deity, keeps bothering him at night. But finds nothing other than the dark circles surrounding the wolf’s eyes and the beginnings of two weird stripes. The coloring is odd, as the wolf’s underbelly is stark white with its back and legs black, with the two weird stripes as white too. Even more intriguing, the glowing claws give off this teal glow, a magical looking glow.
Before the hunter can even move, the wolf is gone, simply have flickered away like computer reloading a picture. Yahaba sighs and lays back down.
Red gates stand before Yahaba. Tall columns of chipped red paint and long-worn bells ring quietly. He looks up with reverence, having finally reached the temple of the Forest Guardian. The steps leading up to the temple itself are chipped and worn smooth, maybe from rain, or from decades of worship. Nonetheless, Yahaba begins to climb the stairs to see the temple, to meet the God.
Silent. The forest is silent as the hunter ascends. No wind moves, no animal scurries, no faraway bird calls. The steps themselves have begun to smooth out and fewer chips in the granite are visible. It’s obvious that someone has repainted the gates a few years ago, but has since stopped. It makes Yahaba’s heart feel distant like he’s got no attachment. But he continues to climb, continues to ascend. It makes him feel lighter.
The temple is beautiful. Red trim with a black tile roof with sloping blue corners meeting bells that ring high and loud. The wind has returned and blows a constant breeze into the temple and over its grounds. The building has another set of steps up to its entrance, and on each side rests statues of crows with their wings spread and eagles with their heads held high.
Suddenly there’s a clacking and the hunter turns to see a tall buck with teal glowing antlers pass by him. The buck meets his gaze and Yahaba feels a jolt of familiarity in those eyes. The animal continues to the temple and manages to duck into the entrance despite how tall the beautiful set of antlers are. Yahaba walks in after, climbing the final set of stairs and letting his fingers brush the doorway.
In the temple, stands a man. A man with the same golden eyes as the buck and wolf. A man whose yukata is achingly familiar. Yahaba stands frozen as the man looks to his stare and suddenly he notices that the man’s eyes are lined with dark kohl. Just as the wolf had strange markings, the man has an inverted style. The two odd lines are dark while his hair is white-ish yellow.
“Shigeru, What are you doing here?”
The man’s voice is deep. It’s reminiscent of rolling thunder or a roaring river after a flood. It’s something he’s heard, and it rings in Yahaba’s own ears like an echo. What is he doing here? The wind picks up outside briefly making the bells ring out a wild sound. The hunter drops his backpack onto the floor and walks to the man.
“I don’t know.”
That’s what his voice sounds like? Whispy and high from misuse. Behind the man is a beautiful statue of a tree with jade pears and pink quartz peaches hanging from its branches. The roots of the statue are twisted beautifully and could look real. The temple echos from Yahaba’s footsteps and he stops.
“What is this place?”
Despite how old the temple is, the support and the structures of the building are stable and strong. Looking up, one can see the support beams reach across the room with charms hanging from them and the ceiling. The tree statue even has a few pieces of paper hanging from its branches. The floor is polished and worn in places like people have treaded there for decades.
“You don’t remember?”
Remember what? All Yahaba knows is that he followed his grandfather’s map and notes to get to the temple, to meet the Guardian of the Forest. He’s been trekking through the forest for days? Weeks? Everything is foggy, distant, far away.
“This is your temple. Our temple.”
Our temple? Does Yahaba know this man? He looks familiar, with his kohl-lined eyes and golden gaze. But does that mean he knows this man? He’s strong at least, the tight ropey muscles look like something he’s seen before. His fingertips are tingling. When did that happen? It’s like they buzz to touch the man in front of him.
“‘Our temple’? What are you talking about?”
Ripples. Something resurfaces with a drop and with a wave.
People are crying but it’s not raining. It’s a bright day but people Yahaba finds familiar are crying. He sees a man with light brown hair bawling in the arms of a much stronger man with black hair. The two hold each other while another person with pink-ish hair is simply letting his tears slide down his face.
What? Who are those people? Does he know them? The wind is roaring outside and the bells are swinging madly and ringing out. The statues of the crows and eagles hold strong in the wind and it almost looks like the crow statues could simply fly away no matter how heavy their metal bodies might be.
“Those were our teammates.”
Teammates? For what sport? The brown-haired guy looked fit, but for soccer or anything like that. The black-haired guy could easily be in boxing or anything physical like that. The pink-haired guy is the same as the first guy, obviously fit but just not for physical sports. Same for Yahaba. What sport would he be playing to have met people like them and the man in front of him?
“We played volleyball.”
Roaring. The sound of screeching and people running. Pounding footsteps and chattering voices over one another, laying and overlapping like a poorly mixed song. Pain. Sharp and biting in his stomach. This throat burns and his teeth feel gritty. Iron and red. Yahaba feels like he’s falling.
But there’s warmth. A radiating heat against his back and chest and face. He’s being held to the man’s chest. He was right about the man’s muscles being all ropey and firm, but even still there’s some give, as Yahaba fits right into that space. He returns the hold, tight and familiar and the same as it always was.
“Kentaro.”
The man smiles and Yahaba can feel it against his neck. Like waves, the memories return, like the tide coming in from a long night out. Terrible and desperate, he knows what happened, why they’re here with their arms wrapped around one another and with familiar voices approaching.
Yahaba knows who the God, the Guardian of the Forest is. He knows too, that he never was a hunter or a man who could shoot. The voices are closer and suddenly the forest is cut back into a small grove, with a street by it and the sounds of laughter fill Yahaba’s heart.
“Kentaro, let’s go.”