Lets fly kites

A tale of passionate Karma

Long, long ago, there was a Buddhist monk who was in love with a princess. The object of his affections, Sakura, was young and beautiful, but she had been sent to the monastery as a nun due to a crippling deformity that kept her right hand closed in a permanent fist. Being so deformed, it was thought that she could never be married. The monk, Seigen, pursued her, and to everyone’s amazement was able to open her fused fist, revealing a small incense box that had been hidden in her hand since birth.

Seigen alone was not surprised, instantly recognizing the elegant and detailed box. It had belonged to his lover, a young man who, agonized at the cruel laws of gender that prevented them from marrying, committed suicide years earlier. His dying vow was to be born again as a woman so that he could be a proper wife to Seigen. The Princess Sakura was Seigen’s lover reborn.

Repulsed at this tale, she fled from the monastery, from her karma, from Seigen, and into the waiting arms of her lover, a thief and rogue named Gonosuke. Seigen pursued her, but was no match for Gonosuke who quickly skewered him on his sword. Free to do as he will, the dastardly cad made a fast profit selling the unfortunate princess into prostitution.

But it didn’t end there. The wraith of Seigen rose as an onryo, a deadly spirit consumed by vengeance. Sakura knew not another peaceful night, as the setting of the sun was swiftly followed by the rising of Seigen. “Cursed you are!” he screamed at her. “You have betrayed your karma, betrayed a promise made by your past self, betrayed a love that was ordained by fate.” Sakura knew it was true and, after enduring much torment, decided to make amends.

First, she smothered the small child sleeping next to her – her own, an illegitimate byproduct of Gonosuke’s lust. Next, she escaped the brothel and traveled the long road to Gonosuke’s home.  There, finding him asleep, she plunged a sword into his body repeatedly, while Seigen’s ghost looked on approvingly. As a last act of contrition, she closed her hand again around the incense box, so delicately and intimately carved, and sheathed the sword in her own neck.

So they say.