A Miko's Dilemma

Miko did her best to forget the previous day’s blunder, one of many as far back as childhood, she was sure, according to her mom. She followed her usual routine and went through the same motions, until final dusk arrived once again.

The narrow path to the shed was the same as always, though it grew worn with time. Even in childhood, before her mother’s illness, she’d come to learn that path—with the condescending stony cat waiting at the end.

Miko almost dropped the food tray as she stood like the statue she faced.

“Why?” She stared at its forehead. No talisman. It was just below at its feet. “It… fell?”

The talisman was sturdy, and heavy with ink. Sealed and firmly affixed with sacred paste. Sure, time had made it fade a bit; it showed its age and exposure to the elements, but it was still a powerful sacred seal. Her grandfather, then the longest living priest in the shrine, had crafted it himself. Something she couldn’t ever hope to recreate. It’d been clinging tight to the stone forehead, even to this day.

Still, Miko knew that there were physical limits to these things, even the special adhesive wouldn’t hold forever. Age comes for us all. Just ask grandpa. But she believed in her grandfather’s craftsmanship and priestly abilities. She didn’t overthink it and affixed it on the stony cat’s forehead once again. The adhesive was something that she was luckily able to learn to make from him; a special mixture made with herbs and other ingredients created during a new moon. Of course, it could never compete with grandpas', but it still would work.

Once it dried, she tested its resistance by tugging, it was good as new.

Was letting the talisman drop another one of her blunders? Miko just wanted the day to end and start anew with her usual, mundane routine the next day. Her mother was more silent than usual this time around as she tended to her, but days like that weren’t that unusual either. Miko took it as a sign to finish her day.

***

Another daybreak. Another sweep of the courtyard. Another set of fresh incense. Did she miss anything?

It’s all the same, but not quite. Isn’t that what she wanted?

Whenever dusk came, it was unwelcome.

Miko clicked her tongue.

She took a bit more time preparing the tray of food, convincing herself that she was just trying to be careful, but once she set off toward the shed, she lingered in a pause longer than she’d like to admit.

At the end of the path awaited her ill mother. At the end of the path awaited the shed that made her hands clammy. And at the end of the path awaited the stony cat with its sarcastic face. Laughing at her that the talisman now refused to stay on.

Every day, without fail she found it’d fallen.

Grandfather’s words flashed across her mind, “Keep the talisman on its forehead.”

“I’m trying my best, grandpa…” Miko bit her lower lip as she knelt down to pick it up.

How many times had it been? She’d stopped counting, just like the days of doing the same routine. Over and over and over again. She hadn't realized how much unease keeping track could bring. All she could do was to affix it again and again, while offering a half-remembered prayer.

Her lip stung, and she could taste a bit of the warmth that dripped into her mouth. It reminded her, ever so subtly, of the mixed odor that permeated through the crack of her mother’s quarters. Every day it grew stronger just as the whispers from inside grew weaker. But occasionally, Mother would seem to push herself just a bit, again as if testing herself. Miko would prefer she wouldn’t; the voice seemed distorted, almost unrecognizable.

The following day Miko stood in the courtyard. It was time for Kagura practice, but instead she was as still as the stagnant air. The cool breeze had died down. Eyes fixed but out of focus on the cedar lined skyline.

As if snapping out of trance, she slapped her cheeks three times leaving them rosy.

“Alright!”

She was determined today. Her movements were careful and precise with every wide, controlled swing of her arms and drag of her feet. The loose sleeves on her robe flowed gently along. She held a kagura suzu, a handheld bell tree that she softly rattled. Was it truly pleasing the gods?

But her mind was elsewhere. “The impurities will cross…” Grandpa’s voice echoed in her head. Now only a blurry image, he seemed a bit frantic the night he placed the talisman.

Miko’s movements grew shaper, and raw. The steps were heavy, and the sways now intense. The handbells chimed and rattled, each movement shaking them harder than the last. The rattling sounded more and more like a metallic chain. That distorted image was seared into Miko’s mind, along with the familiar sense of unease she had whenever she even thought about that shed. It was hardly habitable back then. During the winters it was so cold. But right now, Miko was dripping sweat. Her movements; intense and erratic. Her breathing heavy like a racehorse.

Then, it happened. In an instant her feet collided with each other, and she found herself knocked down on the cold stone floor of the courtyard.

Miko sat catching her breath, not quite aware of what had just occurred. Her eyes widened, and in one fluid motion she was prostrated. Only silence filled the space until her shaky voice broke through.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Her voice cracked as she kowtowed. Every bow more visceral than the last.

Miko repeated this while surrounded by the shrine’s calmness. Until… It finally dawned at her.

“I’m so—”

She slowly lifted her head and observed her surroundings. The fallen leaves rustled once more, and the breeze carried the soft echoed chimes of the altar bells in the distance. Her scenery was unchanged. She was alone.

Miko stood softly, dusting herself off. Taking a deep breath and exhaling she looked at the dusking sky. The clouds gathered and grew heavy.

“Mother… must be famished.”