Yuda Taue
Still Wakes the Deep
After the rainy season, clouds would part from their incessant embrace in the sky. The rivers and streams would run wild and rapid from the long period of rain. They would swell and reach new places, splashing against both tree and rock. Kids were warned about playing in the rivers around this time, with extra eyes on the younger ones in case they were determined to test their might in the river's current, copying the tale of Yenkai.
The great azure dragon had humble beginnings as an orange koi filled with wanderlust and dreams of visiting the sea. Leaving the safety of its pond, it followed a family of silver carp, struggling to keep up with them but persisting nonetheless. Along the way, the koi met salmon and dark chub, who helped it grow stronger with swimming upstream, allowing the koi to keep pace with the silver carp. Soon, the koi befriended the silver carp, who taught the koi how to leap over waterfalls. Just as the journey seemed easy, the koi faced its greatest challenge yet: a fierce river from an even fiercer waterfall as tall as it was wide.
"The silver carp had crossed this waterfall before and had no issues leaping over it, looking more like birds than fish in that moment," Yuda told his nephew, showing how the carp would have arced over the waterfall with one large hand, fingers pressed tight together to resemble a fish. "Beni-goi tried to follow after them, leaping again and again, but the wall of water would just push him down. Over and over, he tried with all his might. Sometimes, he thought he could see the edge of the waterfall; other times, he was nowhere near it. But Beni-goi didn't give up, even when the salmon leaped over him or the dark chubs told him to return before the rainy season took place. Still, Beni-goi kept trying to leap over the river even when the sky became dark with storm clouds from the East. The waterfall grew stronger as Beni-goi grew weak. Waters became unpredictable from the days of rain with no end in sight."
His nephew's dark eyes were wide despite knowing this tale himself. But Yuda couldn't blame his nephew for holding his breath. This was the best part, after all.
"On the eighth day, when the storm was at its greatest with strong, cold winds and raindrops as big as pears, Beni-goi was still trying to leap over the waterfall despite having no strength left. Just as he was making his final leap, for even Beni-goi knew he was at his end, having long passed his limits, the Divine Spirit-"
"Da Gui gave the koi the ability to fly and swim as it pleased, making him large and long and powerful and as blue as the rivers that the koi had swam to get to the sea." Gemi interrupted as she opened the fabric flap to let in the smell of grilled fish. She looked smug and simultaneously exasperated, giving Yuda a look that only an older sister could. "Da Gui turned him into a dragon so he could swim in the sky or sea and dive as low as he pleased. The dragon stayed in the sea for a hundred years, receiving the name Yenkai in return. Come here," Gemi scooped her son up in her arms, looking into the basket in which Yuda was placing deboned fish skewers. "Yuda, you done yet? We're nearly out."
"Nearly done." Yuda said, gesturing to the few filets he had left.
"Well, hurry up. We're the busiest we've ever been, and there's a whole line outside. Don't make me keep you here during the water splashing." His sister pivoted on her heel, exiting the small tent they had set up behind the outside food stall they rented this year. No longer needing to entertain his nephew, Yuda quickly finished his work. He hefted up the birch basket with ease, using one broad shoulder to push aside the tent flap. Gentle sunlight greeted his eyes, but still, Yuda had to blink the warmth of the smoke away. Gemi stood off to the side, still holding her son against her, and watched over her brothers as they fanned the coals or flipped the fish, taking orders or coin, brushing sauce on the fillets or sprinkling salt on the white, moist flesh.
On the street, children were already running around with koi lanterns, following the dragon dancers holding up the many poles of a long blue dragon made in Yenkai's likeness, noticing each scale must have been crafted individually. In Sonshan, the three-day water festival manifested itself from multiple stories and cultures that had fit together like puzzle pieces from all the people who made a home in the Capital. Yuda was certain the tradition of eating roasted mackerel daily came from the provinces from the Eastern Strait, his home. Wasn't his sister saying something about the Morikami and the dragon dance this year? Then, there was the endorsement from the Intendant Nuyen about being lifted to the sky on a mechanical koi by one of their famous inventors. Each province shared its traditions with the melting pot that was Sonshan, like a Kokori hearty soup, to turn the festival in the capital into a sight to behold.
Yuda wasn't sure where the water splashing part of the festival came from, only that it emanated from a second story about Yenkai. All the water raakgui would fight and battle in the lakes and ponds, rivers and streams, even in the sea surrounding the island, to claim the title of king for a year. It made travel after the rainy season dangerous for the peoples of Aetochi, with all the water spirits being particularly aggressive towards one another. Yenkai, distressed by the destruction of boats and villages, took the title of king, once and for all, and.... Yuda's thick brows furrowed. This story was about how Yenkai became associated with alacrity, but Yuda couldn't remember why. Perhaps something to do with him turning the splashing into an auspicious act instead of a dangerous one?
It didn't matter, since this water splashing was different. In Yuda's fishing village, everyone would splash water on each other. It would start with fresh water from the river to wish various notes of good health on the body depending on age and gender, and then finish with everyone splashing each other in the frothy waves of the sea to wish prosperity. It didn't matter if it was family or a stranger; everyone would splash everyone. But in Sonshan? Children would walk down the street for anyone to throw water from their buckets at them as a way to wish the youth prosperity through tenacity and perseverance, good health, and bright futures (and it wasn't uncommon for the parents to dunk an entire bucketful of water on their child to wish for good fortune, too). That, Yuda smiled at.
But on the second day, the men walked down the streets, either shirtless or only wearing white, with the women on the side with buckets ready. On the downward slope of the city, it would look like hundreds of men wading through a woman-made river to those overlooking the scene from the high towers. Some used it today to confess feelings; others used it to rekindle love with wives, wasting all their water on their husbands. Plenty used it to express desire, with the most attractive men drenched afterwards, and Yuda wasn't sure how he felt about the possibility of having so many strangers sprinkle water on his frame. But by Yenkai's azure tail, Yuda hoped he wouldn't have the misfortune of walking off that street as dry as a summer's drought.
"Not a single bone," a customer remarked, tossing the bamboo skewers into the many baskets along the vendor's street nooks and crannies. The baskets were reserved for throwing things away, like broken paper lanterns or boats, sticks for stabbing dango, and even discarded notes and matches. Each night, the baskets would be collected and tossed onto the great logs of the nightly bonfire. "Worth the wait." She added, winking at a Yuda who had been staring. He blushed, though his tanned skin probably didn't let the pink seep through years of cormorant fishing. Maybe he wouldn't be dry after all.
The great azure dragon had humble beginnings as an orange koi filled with wanderlust and dreams of visiting the sea. Leaving the safety of its pond, it followed a family of silver carp, struggling to keep up with them but persisting nonetheless. Along the way, the koi met salmon and dark chub, who helped it grow stronger with swimming upstream, allowing the koi to keep pace with the silver carp. Soon, the koi befriended the silver carp, who taught the koi how to leap over waterfalls. Just as the journey seemed easy, the koi faced its greatest challenge yet: a fierce river from an even fiercer waterfall as tall as it was wide.
"The silver carp had crossed this waterfall before and had no issues leaping over it, looking more like birds than fish in that moment," Yuda told his nephew, showing how the carp would have arced over the waterfall with one large hand, fingers pressed tight together to resemble a fish. "Beni-goi tried to follow after them, leaping again and again, but the wall of water would just push him down. Over and over, he tried with all his might. Sometimes, he thought he could see the edge of the waterfall; other times, he was nowhere near it. But Beni-goi didn't give up, even when the salmon leaped over him or the dark chubs told him to return before the rainy season took place. Still, Beni-goi kept trying to leap over the river even when the sky became dark with storm clouds from the East. The waterfall grew stronger as Beni-goi grew weak. Waters became unpredictable from the days of rain with no end in sight."
His nephew's dark eyes were wide despite knowing this tale himself. But Yuda couldn't blame his nephew for holding his breath. This was the best part, after all.
"On the eighth day, when the storm was at its greatest with strong, cold winds and raindrops as big as pears, Beni-goi was still trying to leap over the waterfall despite having no strength left. Just as he was making his final leap, for even Beni-goi knew he was at his end, having long passed his limits, the Divine Spirit-"
"Da Gui gave the koi the ability to fly and swim as it pleased, making him large and long and powerful and as blue as the rivers that the koi had swam to get to the sea." Gemi interrupted as she opened the fabric flap to let in the smell of grilled fish. She looked smug and simultaneously exasperated, giving Yuda a look that only an older sister could. "Da Gui turned him into a dragon so he could swim in the sky or sea and dive as low as he pleased. The dragon stayed in the sea for a hundred years, receiving the name Yenkai in return. Come here," Gemi scooped her son up in her arms, looking into the basket in which Yuda was placing deboned fish skewers. "Yuda, you done yet? We're nearly out."
"Nearly done." Yuda said, gesturing to the few filets he had left.
"Well, hurry up. We're the busiest we've ever been, and there's a whole line outside. Don't make me keep you here during the water splashing." His sister pivoted on her heel, exiting the small tent they had set up behind the outside food stall they rented this year. No longer needing to entertain his nephew, Yuda quickly finished his work. He hefted up the birch basket with ease, using one broad shoulder to push aside the tent flap. Gentle sunlight greeted his eyes, but still, Yuda had to blink the warmth of the smoke away. Gemi stood off to the side, still holding her son against her, and watched over her brothers as they fanned the coals or flipped the fish, taking orders or coin, brushing sauce on the fillets or sprinkling salt on the white, moist flesh.
On the street, children were already running around with koi lanterns, following the dragon dancers holding up the many poles of a long blue dragon made in Yenkai's likeness, noticing each scale must have been crafted individually. In Sonshan, the three-day water festival manifested itself from multiple stories and cultures that had fit together like puzzle pieces from all the people who made a home in the Capital. Yuda was certain the tradition of eating roasted mackerel daily came from the provinces from the Eastern Strait, his home. Wasn't his sister saying something about the Morikami and the dragon dance this year? Then, there was the endorsement from the Intendant Nuyen about being lifted to the sky on a mechanical koi by one of their famous inventors. Each province shared its traditions with the melting pot that was Sonshan, like a Kokori hearty soup, to turn the festival in the capital into a sight to behold.
Yuda wasn't sure where the water splashing part of the festival came from, only that it emanated from a second story about Yenkai. All the water raakgui would fight and battle in the lakes and ponds, rivers and streams, even in the sea surrounding the island, to claim the title of king for a year. It made travel after the rainy season dangerous for the peoples of Aetochi, with all the water spirits being particularly aggressive towards one another. Yenkai, distressed by the destruction of boats and villages, took the title of king, once and for all, and.... Yuda's thick brows furrowed. This story was about how Yenkai became associated with alacrity, but Yuda couldn't remember why. Perhaps something to do with him turning the splashing into an auspicious act instead of a dangerous one?
It didn't matter, since this water splashing was different. In Yuda's fishing village, everyone would splash water on each other. It would start with fresh water from the river to wish various notes of good health on the body depending on age and gender, and then finish with everyone splashing each other in the frothy waves of the sea to wish prosperity. It didn't matter if it was family or a stranger; everyone would splash everyone. But in Sonshan? Children would walk down the street for anyone to throw water from their buckets at them as a way to wish the youth prosperity through tenacity and perseverance, good health, and bright futures (and it wasn't uncommon for the parents to dunk an entire bucketful of water on their child to wish for good fortune, too). That, Yuda smiled at.
But on the second day, the men walked down the streets, either shirtless or only wearing white, with the women on the side with buckets ready. On the downward slope of the city, it would look like hundreds of men wading through a woman-made river to those overlooking the scene from the high towers. Some used it today to confess feelings; others used it to rekindle love with wives, wasting all their water on their husbands. Plenty used it to express desire, with the most attractive men drenched afterwards, and Yuda wasn't sure how he felt about the possibility of having so many strangers sprinkle water on his frame. But by Yenkai's azure tail, Yuda hoped he wouldn't have the misfortune of walking off that street as dry as a summer's drought.
"Not a single bone," a customer remarked, tossing the bamboo skewers into the many baskets along the vendor's street nooks and crannies. The baskets were reserved for throwing things away, like broken paper lanterns or boats, sticks for stabbing dango, and even discarded notes and matches. Each night, the baskets would be collected and tossed onto the great logs of the nightly bonfire. "Worth the wait." She added, winking at a Yuda who had been staring. He blushed, though his tanned skin probably didn't let the pink seep through years of cormorant fishing. Maybe he wouldn't be dry after all.