I can make fire dance
She, the fire faery performs for me. I am its mistress
I am Hino Rei
Priestess of flame and a Senshi of Fire
Sailor Mars
---
I would gaze upon the stars at night in a state of sheer awe and rapture, my tiny hands outstretched as if I might touch these if I tried hard enough. I would attempt to count them, and do so aloud; my mother laughing, the sound like a cascade of crystal notes, warming my heart.
The glittering studded skies overhead were a constant source of wonder for me. I knew my mother shared this love of the constellations with me and I was glad for that as we were kindred spirits of the fire and the stars were the blossoming of celestial fires.
I was a shy and reserved little girl, somewhat of a loner. I didn’t mind spending time alone in the embrace of the picturesque beauty of the temple gardens. I indulged in my secret passions: blowing bubblegum into huge orbs and delighting in the loud ‘pop’ sound they would make. I would clap my hands and laugh, careful not to expel said strawberry or grapefruit syrup from the hearts of a piece of gum from my little mouth. I loved the bright pink or golden color of the bubbles and the sweet smell of the gum. Though an avid chewer of the said wicked substance most adults frowned upon, I’ll have you know I never got it in my hair, or on my clothing, nor did I leave it for others to sit on or stand in. I was disgusted at the tales told at school about some children, even adults in other lands that left it on the floors of trains and buses, even on seats for hapless victims to sit in or sabotaging the train door mechanisms and locks on cars and buildings; so barbaric.
Hard working people have better things to do than to spend lots of time and money dry-cleaning their spoilt garments. Ek, the vandalism so bad that some countries like Singapore and dear sweet Japan were forced to ban chewing gum outright but for medicinal purposes: calcium gum sold by pharmacists and dental professionals the only exemption.
In Japan, we are fastidious about such things. We allow the sale of gum, yes, but we have little of the mess in Tokyo and even less in other parts of the country compared to a lot of places.
I am and always have been careful to be neat and tidy. I groom myself with the utmost care and that trait I inherited from mother. I was probably the most prim and proper little girl at school.
I loved the arts, could play a flute and even the piano. My music sensei took me three years ahead of my peers and taught me at a level much higher than was required at school. We practiced improvisation. This gave me the skill to write my own music, enabling me to advance and help my songwriting far more effectively than plodding along in the school music program alone, this her intension from the outset. She still instructs me now that I attend Tokyo University and am a performer in my own right. Our sessions these days are more a meeting of musical minds and a sharing of ideas rather than the typical student teacher relationship. I will always be grateful to Kiekie-sama for her patience and faith in me. Her love and devotion as a friend and mentor got me where I am today.
As a young girl, I would stop by her house for personal lessons each week. Kiekie is the best. She is a famous concert pianist having recorded many albums and possesses a beautiful voice. She sang with the greats of the J-pop era as well as light classical, jazz and any number of musical disciplines, and still does today. In short, she is fantastic. She and I were brought together by my mother. Kiekie-sama and mother had grown up together. They are still the best of friends. Years later, her blessings for my joining Dark Empress Butterfly were amongst my proudest moments of my life. In an email recently, she hinted she might join us on stage and play with us in Budapest Hungary as part of the Danube Festival after the tour of Greece was done.
As a child, I would write lyrics at the back of my exercise books where I made sure I had plenty of spare pages. Once my duties sweeping and tending to various tasks at the shrine were taken care of with the help of a boy by the name of Yuuichirou, we would sit and talk, or he would play his guitar and we'd sing together. He sang a little off key and I had to carry the tune to help him. It was fun and it did help his singing. He continued to improve, as he grew older. I would tease him about that. Yuuichirou would roll his eyes, tapped the tip of my nose, laugh at my pouty expression, and continue his recitation as if I'd not said a word. We had lots of fun.
I remember one autumn evening Yuuichirou played his steel stringed guitar that my mother and Ojii-san had bought for his twelfth birthday and you should have seen the light in his eyes. It touched my heart, it really did. I would sing, and he would then accompany me.
As a young woman, I began to sing and play in school bands where my penchant for song writing took on a more elaborate form, and the rest as they say, is history.
As was my daily custom, at dawn I would be found seated on the steps of the Sakura Jinja. I absorbed the quietude of my surroundings. I was glad the traffic was at low ebb this time of day, the dew massaging the flowers and trees, the Goddess of nature sweeping her fingertips over the hollow of the throats of the small enclaves of trees, and foliage dripping with fresh crystalline tears in the shimmering sunlight. I loved that image, and still do to this very day.
There I would be, giggling in contentment at the antics of my shape-shifting crow protectors completely in my element. I enjoyed both the simple pleasures of life, as was my blessing as the daughter of a high priestess of the fire. In all other ways, I was very much a typical girl.
My mother and I would sit in front of the open fire in the autumn, the smell of burning leaves in the grounds my Ojii-san, Yuuichirou would gather, and burn, like incense to my nostrils made me feel so at peace, secure and loved. Come to think on it, I lived for the smell of the wood smoke and the cool night air having basked in the warmth of the late afternoon sunlight watching the shadows tiptoe unobtrusively across the vast temple grounds.
We would sit and toast marshmallows, roast nuts by firelight, my Ojii-san and mother would tell Yuuichirou, I stories of legend and folklore, and we’d all sing. We were truly a family. I loved those nights.
I also love to draw. I both draw and paint on woodblock, canvas, paper, I’ve even tried my hand at inlayed silver, gold, electrum, and copper, these based on fantasy motifs and heavy on Shinto and images that are more ancient. I am not half bad at it either.
Yoro Kohana, my cousin from Hiroshima stayed with us for the first ten years of my life. She was so much fun. We exchanged stories of the Kamis, and the heroes of our ancient heritage. She had uncanny abilities. Kohana was a white witch. I was fascinated by her stories. She told us of the many instances where witches were considered evil in Europe and the so-called new world in the dark and middle ages. In truth, witches didn’t vary all that much from mages, temple Miko, healers and the like. Kohana could make things levitate off the ground with the power of her mind, and these were very heavy. She would move rocks and lift both Yuuichirou and myself off the ground, and even my Ojii-san’s truck. I gasped as it landed with a clunk, but the vehicle was unharmed. Deimos and Phobos showed off by lifting the truck off the ground a second time, the girls’ wings beating a furious pace as they moved it to the car park at the back of the shrine, all of us giggling as my Ojii-san scratched the back of his head wondering where he had parked it. I know we were mean to him. He was a good sport. He had some idea we’d been behind these little pranks. He humored us I am sure.
Kohana and I shared many secrets. After my first meeting with my guardian, Agni, Kohana had told me of an encounter she also had with a being much like Lady Agni, a Kami-sama, but her element was different to mine.
