The Destruction of Irori

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

Long before their arrival, even before the coming of men to that fair place, the valley knew only the summer song of the cicadas, and the autumnal scurrying of the squirrels over dead leaves. Destruction, decay, death; these things meant winter, nothing more. Life then was the new growth of spring. Ages slipped by without measure, for there were none who cared to count the days. Time was reckoned by shadow and light, by the height and the width of oak and elm, and while things were not always peaceful, ever was there balance in the valley.

The earliest records of men say that before they came to the valley, they lived a life of misery in the barren lands of the North. Ever a frigid wind there blows, and the snow falls year-round so that in some places it is heaped higher than the highest mountains. What crop could grow in such soil? By necessity, those ancestors of the valley folk became skilled hunters, for even in the frosty climes there did exist such hardy beasts as wolves, caribou, and bears. The killing of these mighty creatures required that they become a savage people governed by neither law nor conscience. Strength was their king, survival their god.

Yet some there were amongst them who yearned for a different life. Of those few, a company was formed, and they resolved themselves to quit their hateful homeland forever and seek out new lands where they might be free from violence. They knew not how to read the stars, nor even the passage of the sun, nor did they possess any means to distinguish North from South or East from West. Scarcely did they know anything but murder and blood and fire and terror.

How it was that they came to the valley is a matter of speculation and there is no reigning theory. For as yet, those people did not have a written language, but a primitive oral history only, and the records were put down generations after the ancients entered into the valley. Yet all agree that when at last they did arrive in that temperate place, they knew at once their journey to be at an end. Thus, they claimed the valley for their new home, and they called it Irori, which in their tongue meant “hearth”. For in the freezing land from which they’d come, the hearth was a source not only of comfort but life, and never had they known peace save by its side.

Irori was verdant and expansive, spreading out for five hundred leagues in all directions and encircled by tall, craggy mountains. At its center was an ancient tree, older and more massive than any other in the valley. It was at the base of this mighty tree that the people made their first homes. Then for the first time did the valley know true violence, for the men felled lesser trees for lumber or for firewood and they hunted and ate the animals with impunity, and they lived not at all in the balance that had once held sway over all things. But the men knew not how Irori despaired, for they were content for the first time in their lives, and in arrogance and ignorance they called themselves the Tanibito, or “the people of the valley”.

Many years passed and the descendants of the first Tanibito now lived in villages scattered throughout Irori. The largest and chief of these villages was called Furuki, named for the ancient tree at the center of the valley. There, in a lavish house built right into the tree, did the chief of the Tanibito reside. His name was Iwa, “the boulder”. He was a man of great stature, well-muscled, who had proven his courage and fearsome skill on the hunt countless times. Though the circumstances of their ancestors had changed, the Tanibito remained a people who valued strength above all else. Thus, the title of chief and the right to dwell within the great tree could be seized by any of the Tanibito. They had only to challenge the current chief to single combat to the death, or else win the people’s hearts by some other act of valor.

In the days before Iwa’s rule, the Tanibito had been much troubled by foxes, who seemed determined to drive them out of the valley. They accosted lone hunters and travelers, stole food, and would at times even slaughter infants left unattended in their cradles. Iwa won his chiefdom by hunting the foxes to the brink of extinction. No one knew for sure if he’d killed them all or if the foxes simply fled the forest after seeing so many of their brethren slain. The point was moot, for they troubled the Tanibito no more. Yet Iwa famously declared that if any man, woman, or child ever found a fox, killed it, and brought him its hide, he would raise them up as chief in his stead. For he was a man of great honor and he saw the extermination of the foxes as his responsibility to his people. Therefore, if but one remained, he was a failure as a hunter, as a leader, and could be chief no longer.

One morning in early spring, a man named Sakamichi was walking through the woods near the eastern border of Irori. He was a skilled trapper, and he traded the pelts from the animals he caught in his snares in Furuki for necessities to support his sick mother. His father had been killed by a wild boar when Sakamichi was just a boy, and his mother had taken ill with a mysterious disease soon after. Though none of the medicine men could find anything amiss with her, she continued to lose weight and she grew weaker yearly. Sakamichi had been forced to tend to his mother and could not develop skill as a hunter as was the custom for all the young men in his village. In Sakamichi’s eyes, his family had been cursed by the powers of the world for his father’s inability to slay the boar, an opinion that was shared by many of the Tanibito.

In those days, people had a crude name and a true name. Their crude name was one given to them at birth and was typically nothing more than the place name of their coming into the world, or the weather at the time of their birthing. Their true name was earned later on in life, after they’d proved to the Tanibito who they really were. Whereas Iwa, chief of the Tanibito, was called such for his mighty strength and great deeds, Sakamichi was still known only for the place of his birth, the “hill road” in a small village outside Furuki. Sakamichi was still very young, in the last days of his sixteenth year, yet many of his peers had already earned their true names. Life, he often thought bitterly, would never smile upon him.

The air was crisp in the woods, and there was a fine dusting of snow on the ground as Sakamichi checked his traps. He’d not had much luck so far and had only managed to catch a rabbit and a small squirrel. He sighed, his breath misting in the cold air. Bad luck was like a ghost, he thought, haunting him and his family at every turn.

As he delved deeper into the woods, he thought he could hear an odd mewling sound. He was familiar with the songs of many hundreds of birds, the snuffling of the boar, the yelp of the wolf cub, and the call of all manner of beasts. Frowning, he realized this was an animal whose voice he could not place.

He approached the unknown creature warily, his hand clutching his dead father’s hunting knife. He had never had to defend himself from man or beast, and it was known that there is no more dangerous being than one injured and distressed. The noise grew stronger, till it seemed to pulse out of the very trees, to swell up from the undergrowth. Then at last, beneath a tall maple tree, Sakamichi found the crying animal.

His eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief, for he recognized the creature at once, though he had never seen one before. The bushy tail, the red-gold fur, the distinctive markings, the sharp green eyes; it perfectly matched the descriptions of Iwa, and all the older men of Furuki who’d hunted with him.

A fox! The word screamed through Sakamichi’s mind. A real fox!

The creature’s right back paw had been caught in one of Sakamichi’s traps. The trap was simple, a metal cage triggered by applying weight to a small pad in the center. Evidently, the fox was swift, for it had nearly escaped the trap after setting it off. Nearly, but not quite. Its paw appeared to be broken, and the beast could not get it free. It was struggling, clearly in pain, its eyes brimming with terror.

The young man could not believe his luck. A fox, caught in one of his traps, and he just a lowly trapper of the hill road of a village outside Furuki. All he need do now was kill the beast, present its pelt to Iwa in Furuki, and he would be chief of the Tanibito! The mere thought brought his blood to boil.

His father’s knife at the ready, he took a few cautious steps toward the fox. He had known animals, when pushed to desperation, to bite off their own limbs to escape a trap. The fox spotted him and began to struggle even harder than before, the odd mewling sound now a shriek in Sakamichi’s ears.

He continued toward the fox, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead despite the chilly air. Yet his hand remained steady, and he had never before felt such a sense of purpose and determination. It was not a fox that had been caught in his trap but his destiny. All he had to do now was seize it.

Sakamichi stood over the fox. Abruptly, it stopped crying, stopped struggling. It lay there, looking up at the young man, its green eyes neither pleading, nor accusing. There was not even a trace of fear, though Sakamichi was sure the fear had been there before. He was struck dumb by this animal. Its entire species had been hunted down and killed by men. By all rights, it should know that its own death was near, yet it made no move to escape or to fight or to do anything except stare at him.

No matter how many times he thought about it in the years after the encounter, Sakamichi could not say why he did it. Perhaps he’d felt sorry for the creature, or that since its fellows had all been killed in the hunt, it too should share the honor of that sort of death. Perhaps he’d been moved by the beauty of the creature, for undeniably, Sakamichi had never seen such a mysterious beast. For whatever reason, he released the fox from his trap.

It ran away at once, and this disturbed Sakamichi greatly, for he was certain its paw was broken. He stared after it for some time. Then he tucked his father’s knife back into its pouch on his belt and went to see about his other traps.

On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, Sakamichi saw the fox again. He woke with a start, thinking he had heard a shout in his ear. The shout sounded again, and was not in his ear he realized, but in his mind.

Mirai!

With the shout came a picture, like a half-remembered dream, of a place he had been many times before. And by a sudden impulse, he rose from his bed and, careful not to wake his mother, he went out into the night to find the place he had seen.

The night was full of the promise of spring. It was cold, but even now there were some insects to be heard and a few night birds singing. The air smelled new, like rich soil and flower blossoms. All these things and more Sakamichi noticed as he walked to find what had called him. His senses felt sharper than his knife, and the moonlight was like a beacon, lighting his way in the darkness.

The village graveyard was at the very top of the hill that was his namesake. Sakamichi came to the spot where his father was buried and was not surprised to see the fox he had rescued only a few days earlier, sitting upon the gravestone.

“I knew where to come,” he said, knowing the fox would understand him. “I knew you would be here.”

“And you will know more,” said the fox, though its mouth did not move, and the words seemed to sound within the young man’s mind. “You will know a power beyond what has ever been gifted to any other species. A power that only humans can wield, and you shall be the first to wield it. I will grant you this power, for I am Inari.”

“Inari…” Sakamichi repeated, and he was stunned. For though he had never heard the name before, he recognized in it something eternal, something that was beyond the grasp of humankind, and he wondered how he had ever mistaken this being that sat before him as mere beast.

“Where do you stand?” Inari asked.

“My father’s grave.”

“Why did he die?”

“He was killed by a boar.”

“Incorrect.”

“But he was killed by a boar.”

“Why did the boar kill him?”

“Because my father had no luck.”

“Incorrect.”

“And yet, he is dead.”

“Insolent boy! To whom do you speak?”

“To Inari.”

“You will speak truth before a god.”

“I did not know you were a god.”

"You know it now?”

“Yes.”

“Then speak truth!”

“But I have! Father was killed by a boar when…” Sakamichi trailed off, beginning to understand what Inari was getting at. “When he was hunting. The boar killed him because he was hunting it.”

“If your father had not been hunting, the boar would not have killed him,”Inari confirmed.

“Yes.”

“How then did luck come into play?” the fox sighed heavily. “You humans…you think because you can take life you are powerful? You would slay an innocent and in doing so claim honor? What sort of creature would hunt, not always for meat, but for sport as well? Are you humans truly so heartless?”

“I am no hunter,” said Sakamichi, and his eyes were cast down.

“No,” Inari said, a note of honest disbelief in his voice. “No, you’re not. Until yesterday, I thought I might never find a human capable of mercy.”

“Your paw was broken. I saw it. But then…you were never actually caught in the trap, were you?”

“You think a god would be so easily trapped?” Inari scoffed.

“So then…it was all a test? For what purpose?”

“To see if you were worthy to receive my gift. For centuries, mankind has been laboring under the assumption that their power lies in the ability to decide who lives and who dies. But that power is not unique to mankind. The wolf has such power, as does the bear and the boar. As does the fox, of course. Yet there is a thing that men can do that no other beast can.”

Inari hopped off the gravestone and came to stand beside Sakamichi.

“Look again at where you are,” he said. “Look at these stones that mark the place where the remains of the departed reside. Look at the land which was cleared to serve such a purpose. Who was it that first thought to fashion stone into something meaningful? Who looked at a hilltop and saw that it could be something more? That is the true power of the human. To bring what exists in the mind out into the world, to shape the world according to your whim. Creation is your province, not destruction. Either your species has forgotten this, or they do not yet realize. But you, Mirai, will open their eyes.”

Breath caught in the young man’s throat. It was the same word that had woken him from his sleep. In the language of the Tanibito, mirai meant “future”. For a god to call him by such a name…

“Yes,” said Inari, guessing his mind. “That is your true name, and henceforth by such you shall be known. Listen well, young Mirai, for this is to be the last time we shall meet. I will bestow upon you seven wishes. You need not speak your wishes aloud, but only imagine what it is you want. Once the thing is fully formed in your mind, so shall it be in the world. Furthermore, this power will extend to all your descendants for as long as your line continues. On their seventeenth birthday, your children and your children’s children will find themselves marked. As they use their wishes, the mark will fade accordingly. I ask only this: that you and your descendants use this power for the good of the world, not the good of humankind only, for you do not have a claim over the world entire.”

And with that, the fox suddenly snarled, leapt up, and bit Mirai’s hand. The young man shrieked and tried to shake the creature off, yet he found his body immobile. An immense heat seemed to pass from the fox into him and the night was suddenly alive with a thousand things he had never sensed before.

Then the fox let go, and where his teeth had punctured Mirai’s hand, there was now a strange mark. Six red lines extending outward from a black circle so as to resemble the sun. Mirai stared at the mark in wonder and disbelief barely comprehending Inari’s final words.

“Know that you may use all your wishes at once, or sparingly over the course of a year. But by your eighteenth birthday, if you have not used all your wishes, you will forever lose the chance to do so. Think well on what you want to create and how it may serve not only you, but all others. I cannot prevent you from succumbing to vain desires and fancies but say only that to do so would be a waste and, potentially, a disaster. Now goodbye, Mirai. We will not meet again.”

And with that, the fox was gone, disappeared, and Mirai was left alone beside his father’s grave in the cold night air.

For the rest of the night, Mirai pondered what he would do with his wishes. He thought about what Inari had said, that they should be used to benefit not only mankind, but all creatures. He realized that the principal trouble between man and beast was mankind’s need to feed themselves. If it were possible to reduce the need to hunt, to stop relying solely on meat for sustenance, that would certainly benefit all the creatures in Irori. Back home, in his bed, he stared at the ceiling and began to think up a device.

The next day, he went straight to Furuki and presented himself before Iwa. He declared that there was no longer any need to hunt the creatures of the valley. Iwa of course laughed at him and dismissed him at once, so Mirai went to the center of the village and called out to all who would hear him.

“I am Mirai!” he said. “And I bring you the future!”

And he concentrated on the device he had thought of all night long, and just as he imagined it, there it was before him. The people gasped but Mirai assured them there was no need to fear. And bringing forth the horse he had ridden into the village, he attached the device to its back and explained how it was to be used.

“With this, we shall be able to turn whole fields into land for growing crops. We will grow our food, not hunt it. No longer do we need risk our lives on the hunt. The work will be hard, but together, we will reap the benefits!”

The people were dubious at first, but when they saw the device at work and, after a season, what fruits their labor bore, they exalted Mirai and Iwa humbly stepped down as chief. Mirai made many more tools to aid them in the growing and cultivating of crops and, gradually, the Tanibito transitioned from hunters into farmers. And Irori rejoiced, for there was peace now that had not been since the coming of the Tanibito. But Mirai's final wish was that his mother be cured of her sickness, and she lived a long and happy life, full of pride for what her son had become.

Many years passed and the descendants of Mirai used their wishes to improve on his designs. They thought up greater, more efficient machines, great homes, palaces, and temples dedicated to Inari who all the people now worshipped as a god. And the position of chief of the Tanibito was no longer won by deeds of valor, but inherited by the children of Mirai, for they were blessed with the great power. For six generations, peace and prosperity smiled on Irori.

But then came Arashi, so called for the great storm that raged in the valley for the duration of his birth. Unlike all his ancestors, who possessed the same gentle spirit as Mirai, Arashi was full of cruelty and ambition. Though the need to hunt was greatly diminished, Arashi reveled in the killing of animals and would often hunt and kill a beast only to leave its carcass where it fell, taking from it neither meat nor hide. It was said amongst the Tanibito that Arashi was the embodiment of the bitter cold the Northerners fled from when they came to Irori.

His parents scolded him quite severely, for they knew that one day he would be chief of the Tanibito, and they did what they could to impress upon him his duty to his people. Yet Arashi cared not at all for anyone but himself, and his parents grew fearful with every year that passed, wondering what he would wish for when the time came.

On the morning of his seventeenth birthday, Arashi woke to find the mark of Inari upon his right hand. Up until then, he hadn’t given much thought to the story of his ancestor. Though the Tanibito had been witness to the miraculous works of the children of Mirai, Arashi had never seen them with his own eyes and had only the accounts of others to tell him that such things had really happened. Now, seeing the mark upon his hand, he realized that the stories were true and that seven wishes were now his to do with as he pleased.

He went out into Furuki and when the people saw his hand, they knelt before him and trembled. Arashi smiled to see them so afraid, and their fear was like a drug to him so that the more he got of it the more he wanted. He wandered out of the village and into the woods, thinking harder than he had ever thought before. What could he create that would inspire even greater terror?

Heeding not where he was going, Arashi stumbled across the path of a snake. The snake hissed and coiled itself to spring at the young man, and now Arashi himself was filled with terror, looking into the cold, slitted eyes. Suddenly, a hawk shot down out of the sky and clutched the snake in its talons, killing it instantly. It carried it off into the sky and Arashi watched its flight in wonder.

A thought began to form in his mind. A picture of a beast with all the raw power of the serpent, coupled with the freedom and swiftness of the hawk. It would be a vast creature, large enough to swallow a bear whole, and its hide would be impenetrable, harder than the hardest steel.

And then, Arashi remembered how the ancestors of the Tanibito were driven to seek out a better life. And why had that been? Because of the cold. The cold of the north had proved too great an enemy for them. Well then, this beast of his mind would be impervious to the cold. Better, it would create heat within itself.

And the cold fire that raged within Arashi’s heart became the flame that sparked this creature into existence and suddenly, in the sky above the woods, there flew not one, but seven giant reptilian beasts, one for each of his wishes, as glorious as they were terrifying. Looking up at them, Arashi wept, moved to tears by his own creations.

And he called up at them, “Ryuu!” and it was a new word, though it was one that all the Tanibito would soon come to learn, for these were dragons. But Arashi could give them their crude name only, and their true names, none have yet learned.

The dragons immediately began to wreak havoc on Irori, driving terror into the hearts of the Tanibito who knew not what these creatures were nor why they had come. They burned down Furuki, both the village and the ancient tree for which it was named. They devoured the Tanibito and set them running even to the borders of Irori and over the mountains to scatter about the world without. And all the valley, the woods and the grasslands and the beasts and birds, they brought to ruin. And Arashi’s parents wept as they fled, for they knew this was the work of their son.

But Arashi laughed seeing the destruction all about him and seeing one of the dragons resting for a moment on a pile of stone that was once a temple, he approached it without fear.

“Good!” he cried. “An excellent start, dragon! Now, take me on your back and bear me up into the sky. I wish to see the world, to go where I wish, and to bring death wherever I go.”

But the dragon only stared at him out of the same cold eyes as the snake and said, “My creator you may be, but I owe you no allegiance.”

Inflamed by the dragon’s insolence, Arashi yelled, “Do as I say, you stupid beast!”

And the dragon asked, “You wish to see fire, death, and all manner of destruction?”

“Yes!” said Arashi. “I wish it!”

“Then I shall grant your wish.”

And the dragon opened its great maw and set Arashi aflame. His scream sounded but for a moment before he was consumed, and when at last the fire died down, there was only a black scorch upon the stone where he had stood.

No, there weren’t always dragons in the valley. Yet Irori is now their domain. At times they will fly into the lands outside the valley, to terrorize the villages that were founded by the ancient Tanibito. None know how to kill them nor how to reason with them and can do nothing but tremble at their coming and curse in their wake.

The birth of the dragons was many years ago, yet the line of Mirai continued, for Arashi’s parents had another child. Yet, perhaps because Arashi’s actions angered Inari for being so contrary to what he’d intended in giving mankind the power, none after Arashi were gifted the mark on their seventeenth birthday. So many years passed in fact, that all mankind forgot that there ever were those who could bring to life the things that existed within their minds. Yet the legend was passed down within the line of Mirai, as a warning of what can come from cruelty and arrogance.

And so the years drifted by, until one day, a young woman, approaching her seventeenth birthday, was out in the woods collecting wild mushrooms. A twig snapped near her, and she turned to see, crouched beneath a tall maple tree, a fox.