Kaisoki no Madougu

Kaisoki no Madougu

(Memoirs of Madougu)

by Bottou-chan

Author's Note:

This is based on the premise that all madougu work because they contain and control a spirit. For ones like the Fuujin and the Raijin, you actually get to see them. But most of them remain unseen. So, I tried to think up a bit of monologue for a few of them... what would it be like to be a spirit? A trapped spirit? An enslaved spirit? The madougu, perhaps, are some of the 'forgotten' characters of the series because they very rarely get a chance to express themselves. ^_^

Either way, I felt like writing something different, and here it is.

I am Ensui.

I was a wandering water spirit. I guided the rivers along their course; lakes, oceans, and mountain springs were subject to my watchful eye. There were others like me, and we shared our power. There was water enough—clear and clouded, clean and polluted, flowing and stagnant, fresh and salt.

Like water, I flowed—I flowed from one body to the next, inspecting, investigating, examining. I performed my celestial duty, performing it well. I danced the sacred dance of the water spirits, each movement registering with Heaven like a drop falling in a fountain, distinct in itself, yet mingled with countless other drops from countless other water spirits.

How long have I been a kami? My beginnings are shrouded in darkness and mystery, like the underground springs from which mighty rivers flow. The underground rivers exist in the darkness, yet who knows of them? When humans recognized my being, they called me kami; yet should I owe my existence to their label for me? I would continue to exist in darkness and secret even after they are gone; but for now, I am a secluded river running in the sunlight.

I am mighty. I am powerful. I am Ensui.

I am Raijin.

A spirit of lightning and thunder; my true shape is as dazzling as the element I control. And so I hide myself behind a hideous form, though in reality, I am beautiful… but deadly to look upon.

Spirits, too, have free will. We are higher beings, and have consequently been granted higher power. Yet the consequences for us are harsh, if we turn our backs upon Heaven. It was for my misdeeds that I was banished from the heavens, and my secret name was given out to a human. And suddenly, this weakling had power over ME. I, a kami, was subjugated to his will and bound to an object. I was encased in a small colored ball, with my common name, Raijin, marked upon it. But it was the power over my secret name that kept me there.

Of course I was bitter, for now, I must be dominated by a human master. Master! I scoff at the word. If it were not for my bonds, I would strike down anyone who attempted to take advantage of my confinement. Yet—the will of Heaven is stronger than I, and so I submit, albeit bitterly—and belatedly.

I am a slave. I am Raijin.

I am Fuujin.

A spirit responsible for overseeing gentle zephyrs and raging tempests alike, the wind is my element. I am capable of stirring up refreshing breezes to soothe hot, tired humans, yet am equally capable of destroying their houses in one fell swoop. Yet I try and contain my strength, exerting it only at the will of Heaven, and I believe I am viewed as an overall beneficial spirit.

I, too, was subjugated, yet of my own free will. I entered into a pact with a young human, a blacksmith… yet he was a smithy who was capable of manufacturing objects which could harness even the most whimsical of kami.

His kind had audacity, certainly, yet I admired him for his skill and his honest belief in using our kind to benefit humanity. He was a worthy individual, and so I gave him power over me.

Perhaps I was a fool to allow myself to be sealed away within a small ball. What is created for good might someday be used for evil, yet that was a chance I was willing to take. I felt sympathy for this individual and the plight of his people. And so I loaned him my strength.

I hope for the best. I hope for the future. I am Fuujin.

I am Hyoma En.

I am spirit of ice. Ice is beautiful, yet deadly. I etch intricate frosty patterns on the very leaves I kill. My touch varies between gentle and knifelike, yet is inevitably harsh. I am associated with the chill of winter, the deprivation which occurs during a sparse time of year, and uncomfortably cold environments.

So how can I not be fascinated by death? Why should I not thirst to assimilate hot, freshly-spilt blood into my own frigid depths? Should I be a kind and gentle kami?

What for?

Before, I conducted myself accordingly, restraining myself as is due to the will of Heaven. Although I yearned to surround myself with death and violence, I was not a foolish spirit. Yet when I was offered a chance to fulfill my own desires, at the small price of my freedom, I accepted eagerly.

I believe it was a good trade. After all, I am of the spirit world. Time has no meaning for me. Surely I'll outlast the pitiful ball in which I am encased, and I'll certainly be gorging myself on the blood of the dying long after my captor himself is dust.

For I am a kami. I am Hyoma En.

I am Fukyo Waon.

Like the others, I, too, was once free but now am trapped. For whatever reason I choose to lend my powers, that's my business. Was it intentional? Was it accidental? Was it a punishment? The reasons for a kami's dealings are no business of humanity, and we perform actions which mortals may question.

Let them question. I will not answer.

Rather, I will lend my destructive power over sound to the one who raises me to their lips. If they kiss me—I shall sing, and be it harmonious or discordant, it will inevitably invoke destruction upon their victim.

Yet centuries have passed. I am shrouded in darkness, buried beneath rubble. I have not been kissed for hundreds of years, and I long to see the light of day once more. I sit here patiently, enduring my bonds, waiting to be found once more. It is not the solitude, or the darkness, or the absence of touch which bothers me.

It is the silence.

The silence is deafening.

Centuries of deafening silence, sitting still, patiently waiting, yet yearning to be found.

Agonizing.

And yet I wait.

For I am patient. I bide my time. I shall sing once more. I am Fukyo Waon.

I am Kougan Anki.

For hundreds of years, I have traveled. Wrapped in oiled cloths, hung upon a wall, even once or twice ingloriously used to execute a high-ranking noble. The taste of blood was something of a shock, after such a lengthy time of disuse. The memories it brought back!

Is death good? Is death bad? It can be argued either way. I don't care, as I'm immortal. It's a non-issue for me. But death is inevitable, and should I be blamed for hurrying it along for some mortal? After all, it is not the end; it is merely the bridge to something else.

After such lengthy disuse, I find it good to find myself in the hands of a capable person, pulled back once more to my true use. Someone was finally clever enough to get past my first form once more. It brings back memories of the last person I could truly call "Master", for a mere owner is not necessarily a master of anything.

He is young. All mortals are young to me; there is no way of expressing the amount of time I have existed. I myself am timeless. But I find this boy intriguing, and I look forward to personally following his growth.

For I myself am never old, never young. I merely exist. I am Kougan Anki.

I am Shiki Gami.

Once upon a time, I was a free-roaming spirit. That was yesterday. In a moment, I was bound to a small sphere.

For a few hours, I watched from that sphere. A score of men laid claim to that sphere, and I watched them wither and die in succession.

For a few brief seconds, I was enclosed within the chest of a young girl, before being withdrawn once more into the light of day.

And today, I am free once more.

I am a free-roaming spirit. I am eternal. I am Shiki Gami.