The festival performances had begun earlier in the day, and the seats in the front of the theater were all taken, so I sat among strangers on a wooden bench in the back. Snow flying in from the windows tickled my face. Chimes tinkled in the background, and drums from the festivities outside pounded.
It seemed that the entire town was here. There had to be a thousand people in the theater, all carrying unlit round lanterns that bobbed against their knees. Children bounced on their feet, eager for the next performance to begin.
The sun had mostly sunk, but one last glare from the west swept over the stage as Lady Bushian stood and welcomed the people of Iro to the festival.
“Tonight we celebrate the end of a long winter, and the light that comes after darkness. As a tribute from Castle Bushian, my children will perform Iro’s most beloved tale to honor and thank all of you for a year of hard work, loyalty, and harmony.”
She bowed, then welcomed Megari and Takkan to the stage.
Megari sat primly on the stool set out for her, and adjusted her lush blue skirts before picking up her moon lute. Her shoulders lifted, and with a downward sweep of her hand, she strummed an opening chord.
As Megari’s eyes lit, absorbed by the music, Takkan stepped forward. “When Emuri’en fell from the heavens to earth,” he began, “her thousand cranes prayed for her to be reborn. And so she was—as a human child named Imurinya.”
Smiles spread across the theater as children and adults alike recognized the tale Takkan and Megari had chosen.
Takkan sang:
Imurinya was not like other children.
Her skin shone silver as the moon, and
her hair gleamed with starlight,
so bright none could see her sorrow.
She soon bloomed into a lady,
melancholy and alone
but for the rabbits on the mountain,
who did not fear her radiance.
Then kings and princes arrived,
begging for her hand.
Of each, she asked a simple gift:
a gift that would make her happy.
They brought rings of jade and crowns of pearl,
sumptuous silks and chests of gold.
What use have I for such riches?thought Imurinya.
I am but a maid from the mountain.
Her hope began to fade, until
the last suitor gathered his courage,
a humble hunter with a humble gift:
a wooden comb carved with a plum blossom.
All ridiculed him for daring such a simple piece.
