Free Strange Light Afar by Rui Umezawa Page A

capacity to love was more a curse than a gift. I considered throwing myself into the river to make Sayuri understand the pain she had inflicted on me. It turned out, however, that the river had frozen over the previous night.
    I suppose I could have found other ways to take my own life, but I took the unusually cold weather as a sign. Someone was watching over me. Someone who loved me for my pain.
    My discovery of Sayuri’s affair, it turned out, was a blessing in disguise. It made me renounce the floating, materialistic world for the humble lifestyle of a traveling monk.
    My parents protested, but we had been fighting about one thing or another ever since I was a child. I had long since stopped listening to them. The constant yelling and screaming made my head hurt. I was born to love, not fight. My love for the spirit of the Buddha became the greatest love of my life.
    With my head shaven to a fine sheen and wearing humble earth-colored robes, I now travel as free as the summer breeze, stopping at villages to collect alms for the poor, nurse the ill and spread the teachings of enlightenment. However, begging for alms is tiring, and I often collect barely enough for a decent meal for myself. And tending to the sick can be tricky because I don’t want to catch anything and fall ill myself. Who would look after the poor and decrepit then?
    This is why I tend to focus on teaching, which I find absolutely invigorating! I go around telling people what to do and derive satisfaction from their gratitude. The faithful gather wherever I go and hang on my every word as I spread the love.
    This truly is the life I was meant to live.
    So now I am walking along a dirt path down the side of Mt. Hiei. Perfect clouds are scattered across the sky. Birds sing in harmony, and the winds carry the fragrance of mountain flowers. It is as though the day is singing my praises.
    A winged shadow blocks the sun. In the next moment, a tengu lands in front of me, his arms akimbo and chest inflated. This is not the demon with the red face and inhumanly long nose. Rather, he is a lower-class tengu with the face of a crow.
    I have never been fond of the stories people tell of the tengu   — pagan gods or demons, depending on who is telling the story. They mostly stay away from humans, but occasionally kidnap one of us to have for supper.
    The day suddenly turns cold. I must admit to being terribly frightened as the demon peers into my face, but the tengu suddenly cries out in joy and kneels at my feet.
    â€œMaster!” he shouts. “Oh, happy day! How I have waited to bask in your presence again!”
    I am completely bewildered, as I have never seen this tengu before  — or any tengu , for that matter. He seems genuinely hurt when I tell him this.
    â€œAre you toying with me, Master? Do you truly not recognize this face?” The tengu ’s small dark eyes dart back and forth. From the neck up, he truly looks like a nervous blackbird.
    â€œI know no one with the face of a crow  — unless they are crows, of course. Wait a minute …”
    The tengu squawks in excitement. I can barely understand what he is carrying on about.
    â€œYes, yes, Master! It is I! The crow you took in and fed when you were but a child! I probably would have starved had you not cared for me.”
    â€œOh, my. I had no idea you were a tengu .”
    â€œThat’s what makes your act of giving all the more gracious. That you would be so kind to a dumb animal!”
    â€œWell … that is just my way.” An unfamiliar warmth flushes my cheeks. Not many express their appreciation for my love as clearly as this. Not even the poor and needy to whom I profess my wisdom are as forthcoming with their thanks. Mostly they shy away. I am unaccustomed to such praise.
    But why should I be?
    â€œIt is truly fortuitous that I spotted you,” says the tengu . “I have always wanted to repay you for your kindness. With all