An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Natori has seen many beautiful things. Museum upon museum; evaluation after evaluation, he still thinks no piece of art can come close to the beauty of any tree.
It's humbling, really—the best he can hope for is to have the honour of writing a poem that even a tree would enjoy.
✽
(The holly bush at the front porch of the Natori residence gets infested by mites two days before the annual summertime shiki-summoning event. The gardener fears they may be cursed. Shuuichi tells him not to worry—they've essentially got a spare.)
(For @natsumeweek‘s Natsume Week Day Four: Hugs/Happiness.)
Tying a holly branch to a treasury pillar in order to protect a household—is this a blessing, or is this a curse?
(It’s both.)
Happy Natsume Week 2024! For @natsumeweek's Day One: Hopes/Curses.
𓇢𓆸 on ao3 (or under the cut)! 𓇢𓆸
✽ 柊 (Osmanthus heterophyllus)
/ˈhīraˌgi/
noun
The Japanese name for osmanthus heterophyllus, a type of holly tree/bush; traditionally used by Japanese households as a lucky charm to ward off burglars and evil spirits at the front of Japanese homes. ✽
Hiiragi doesn't remember when it started.
All she remembers is being part of the mountain, and that she'd been inhabiting a holly plant when her consciousness first came into existence. She doesn't remember if she was the holly plant itself, or just a stray spirit inhabiting it—she only remembers that a holly plant was the first thing her spirit took root in.
When she'd gained enough spiritual energy to wander, she eventually became the mountain guard, but it wasn't long before a human captured her, binding him to the pillar of the treasury in his house.
He hadn't said it, but she knew what her job was:
Stay here and guard the household; ward off untoward entities, spirits and humans alike.
(He hadn't said it, but she knew what her fate was:
Stay here and be cursed to a fate of eternal submission to humans.)
Tying her to a treasury pillar in order to protect a household of humans—she'd wondered if this symbolic gesture was a blessing, or a curse. A while later, she'd realised the answer.
(It's both—a blessing to them, but a curse to her. And try as she might, she could not escape.)
Perhaps this is it for me; cursed to a fate of eternal submission to humans, she'd thought.
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
Or so she'd only thought, because one human exceeded her expectations; a human child.
She'd been trying in vain to escape again. Her nails broken and hands bleeding, she was nonetheless unfazed—she'd gotten used to injuring herself in the process.
The boy hadn't gotten used to it, though, so he'd gifted her a bandage, along with her first experience of human touch—
Human children are warm, she'd thought at the time he'd tried, hands shaking, to wrap the bandage around her frail, twig-like wrist.
"Human children don't have the power to curse others," is what she'd said instead, because he'd been on the verge of tears telling her about how he'd cursed his mom just by existing, causing her to die; because bad things happen all because he "sees weird things", is what he'd said, on the verge of tears.
"Human children don't have the power to curse," is what she'd said, touching his warm hand, loosely interlacing her cold, twig-like fingers with his. "Your hands aren't made for cursing—they're made for healing. You're a nice kid."
He'd looked at her then, deer-in-headlights like what she'd said was out-of-the-world.
"You're a nice, normal kid."
Human children are so very warm, she'd thought.
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
Or so she'd only thought, because the next time she meets the same 'nice, normal kid' is when he's hot on her tails—
He's coming to exorcise her.
Strangely enough, she doesn't mind—the deepest part of her soul knows that it'd be an honour to have him be the one to exorcise her. After all, he'd been the warmest being she's ever had the honour to touch.
And so she tries to make his life easier, and walks straight into his trap.
There's no need to prolong this existence, she'd thought. This cold, cursed existence where human children will never be warm again.
She walks into the middle distance where the exorcist trap lay, pretending she's walking back in time; back into the child's arms.
Human children will never be warm again, she thinks.
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
Or so she'd only thought, because she finds that a second human has exceeded her expectations; another human child.
This time, he wasn't touching her hands, or her—he was fiddling with the rope that bound her (the same robe that has cursed her to a fate of eternal submission to humans); it stung, thanks to the curse between the rope and her.
It stung, and so her reaction wasn't kind; she'd charged straight towards him and shouted at him, mustering with her little spiritual energy whatever weak voice constituted as shouting in her books.
"Will you stop that, you brat?" Her voice crackling like a shriveled branch, she'd seemingly startled him, because he jumps at the sudden intrusion. But she also notices that he isn't remotely as startled as she'd expected him to be, because he turns and starts speaking to her in a voice that was too normal for a normal human child his age.
(Joke's on her, because he's definitely no 'normal human child', she realises later.)
"Who tied you up?" He glances at the shackles that have cursed her to human oppression thus far.
She doesn't respond.
"Are you injured?" He glances at the bandages encircling her wrist; she hadn't realised it before now, but they seem to be coming undone.
It's unmistakable, the expression in his eyes—it's been decades since she's seen that sort of expression, and she'd thought that she'd never have gotten the privilege of experiencing human warmth again, not after that child.
Human children are warm, she thinks, as this child tries to rewrap the bandage around her frail, twig-like wrist.
It's a waste, because even spirits aren't immune to the vicissitudes of time, much less human children. She starts making her way again, walking into the trap laid out for her by her one and only final executioner; the one who'd been a warm human child only decades ago.
I'll never get to feel the warmth of human children again, she thinks.
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
Or so she'd only thought, because she's lying on the grass, weak but alive, having just survived a lightning strike thanks to the human child and his giant feline bodyguard who'd, for some godforsaken reason, taken the hit for her.
"I figured she had a fifty-fifty chance," an adult voice says, gentle but somehow remorse, the resonance of it simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar (he's an adult now, after all; he won't sound exactly the same, but she can recognise him nonetheless). "She could not escape the curse that bound her to the pillar, so I figured that if the lightning had struck her, she'd at least have finally passed on to the afterlife. And in the best case scenario, if she'd managed to survive, the rope would burn away, freeing her from the shackles of human oppression forever."
The explanation was not directed at her, but she appreciates it nonetheless.
"Thank you for shielding her, Natsume," the same voice continues. "She survived thanks to that. I'm really thankful."
(She's still too weak to speak, but she's thankful, too—thankful that he's thankful, and thankful that humans can be warm, not just when they're only young, but at any stage of their brief existence.)
✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽
When she finally awakens, she realises that she's been given a name:
Hiiragi.
"You just look like a Hiiragi to me," Natori shrugs, smiling casually. "Plus, you’ve always been like a holly warden plant anyway—your previous master had tried to use you as a protective charm, too. Come to think of it, they really should just have planted some hiiragi bushes outside their house, instead of trapping you in a treasury."
(She doesn't say it aloud, but she thinks it's a good name for her.)
Tying a holly branch to a pillar in order to protect a household—she'd initially thought that it was a blessing for them, and a curse for her. Now that the events have played out in this direction, she learns the right answer.
a couple people followed me for my hiiragi in springtime art so I thought I would share a study I did for it. it is one of the best things I ever drew I think
origamiaround
blakekathryn
janainaart
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
pixelskylines
andulkaphoto
