Sakue always retreated to her calligraphy when she needed to
calm her mind. Calmness was essential in
this practice--everything had to be done in smooth, calculated, gentle way from
the mixing of the ink to crafting the letters themselves. To bring violent, unwanted emotion into this
ritual would not only ruin anything she managed to write, but also damage her
instruments. The fragile brushes were
especially at risk, but using too much force on the stick of ink might crack
it, which would present an uneven surface to the stone itself, and over time
wear down a crack in that, which would in turn damage future sticks of ink used
on it.
She reminded herself of all these things as she took
steadying breaths and tied her kimono sleeves back to keep them out of the
way. The deep breaths were still
necessary as she picked up the dark stone, cradled it in her hands so her
fingers did not smudge the painting on one side of the prancing lion-dog that
was slowly being worn away along with the rest of the stick, but what was left
remained vivid and beautiful. Sakue
rubbed the stick on the stone, pulling water up to the soft ink to mix them
together, then tested the thickness. A
touch more water, a few more strokes of ink, another test.
When she was satisfied with the thickness, she gathered some
on her favorite brush, took away the test sheet of rice paper to expose the
next in the stack and poised her brush over the blank sheet.
Sakue never planned what she wrote unless she was doing
directed practice. So, she began with a
radical, the first that came to mind.
The simplified strokes of a person appeared on the paper--no surprise,
considering who she was angry at. So,
she surrendered to the direction of her thoughts and drew the other half of the
character: a temple. Together, they
created a samurai.
With a careless flip of her wrist, she set the sheet aside
to dry, exposing the next page. She had
not come here to dwell, Sakue thought irritably. She had come to calm down.
Wetting her brush again, Sakue heard the sound of the front
door softly clicking shut. It was not a
loud sound, but it was louder than the sliding it made, and she had been
listening for it. It only made her
temper harder to control, knowing that he was back. She would not let him bother her. Or at least not let him know it. So, she raised the brush and decided what to
write before her brush touched the next page.
Oh my. What did Sakon do this time?
ReplyDeleteWell, I did say that it didn't explain anything. That's because I have no idea what happened and ran out of steam.
DeleteAlso, this character was not meant to be much like Saki. I just used her full name because I've always liked it the most of the girl names we've come up with. It's elegant and flows.