Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Bulldog and the Archer
An impromptu concert brings forth feelings of love and devotion in some, and memories of shame and regret in others.
1Ambiance
Part 10 – The Enclave, The Zark Family compound
Mayumi's Residence
Drifting peacefully afloat on an old, faded black, Muggle 'tire tube', young Charlie, wearing only an old pair of hand-me-down bathing shorts, slips along a quiet, shallow stretch of the River Otter, enjoying the lazy summer afternoon sunshine. Alone, with none of his brothers, his Mum, his Dad, nor even little Ginevra, to disturb him. He thinks back to his experiences earlier this year, his second, at Hogwarts. Memories of: playing Quidditch with his mates, the great food, Gryffindor house, young Stephanie Hodgkin of Ravenclaw, snogging young Stephanie Hodgkin under a table at the Library and not getting caught, playing Quidditch with his mates again, then running into young Stephanie Hodgkin mid-air during the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, and the pain as her splintered broom sliced upwards into his left thigh; all floated lazily through his mind. He absently reaches down and scratches at the long, pink scar on his left leg above the knee.
As the inner tube floats past a small dock on the left bank, Charlie can barely hear the sounds of a delicately ethereal musical instrument. He listens carefully as the music grows clearer. He feels the music pulling him along. A thin wisp of cold air tickles his left foot. The music changes, as another instrument joins in. Another caress of icy air tickles the hair on his bare leg, and his exposed shoulder.
Charlie semi-consciously pulls his feet up under the blanket, while trying to cover his shoulder and neck, wanting very much to stay in bed with his lover. He reaches for Mayumi, only to find her half of her bed cool and empty. Rolling onto his back, he opens his eyes slowly, and gazes upwards at the open-framed ceiling timbers. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, and groggily looks around for May. Not seeing her, he sits up and pulls back the comforter and the blankets beneath. Moving to the edge of the bed, he steps into his slippers. He reaches for his robe, stands, and slips it on.
The music draws him from the bedroom out into the front room. A thin crack in the doorway leading to the wooden front deck lets a slice of light in from the outside, along with the cold draft he has been feeling. Wondering where Mayumi has gone off to, Charlie approaches the door, prepared to shut the door tight. Sighting through the crack, with his hand on the handle, Charlie sees May sitting on the deck with her long, raven blue-black, hair falling about her shoulders and back. Intrigued, he pushes open the sliding wooden door further. The music grows louder.
Hearing the door slide open behind her, May turns and motions to Charlie to quietly join her. It is then that Charlie sees the source of the music. A wide smile crosses his face. Charlie acknowledges her, ducks back inside, and returns momentarily with a heavy cover. He notices that May sits upon her magic Tatami. He carefully walks up behind her, stepping gingerly on the Tatami, which hovers a few inches off of the icy cold wooden decking. Careful to maintain his balance, he sits behind May, his legs then surrounding her, while he pulls the large cover over his back and shoulders, and then around Mayumi as he wraps his arms around her. He softly kisses her head, and relaxes to the beauty of the picturesque vision in front of them.
Having arrived at the Enclave in the darkness of the early evening the previous day, following their full day of meetings and the impromptu Zark – Sato family reunion, Charlie did not have the chance to survey the neighborhood much. He remembers brick paved pathways and narrow alleys, dimly lit by lanterns which hung from hooks atop wooden poles. Those same lanterns cast warm, diffused light upon the scattered doorways of the residences, many of which were bunched right up to the edge of the paved lanes. As they had approached her home, walking hand-in-hand, the lights became fewer, and the shadows deeper. Though Charlie thought it odd enough to notice, his thoughts were more on the person he was with, and the tired condition he was in, at the time.
Now, in the light of the early morn, Charlie can finally see what he had missed the night before. The serene, snowy landscape in front of them is of a medium sized, traditional Japanese Tea garden. A babbling brook of icy water tumbles amongst large, moss covered rocks, then splashes noisily into a large pool. Tall evergreen trees, their boughs laden with the accumulation of the overnight snowfall, stand stately and proud, while bare maples, stands of green bamboo, and smaller plantings add to the landscape. It is the small, ceremonial Tea Hut that sits above the surface of the pool, however, that has their complete attention. Or rather, it is the trio of musicians that sit within it, that garners their silent admiration.
For within the hut, its side open to plain view, young Michio sits upon a low stool, as he plays his enhanced Shakuhachi. To his left, Aunt Ayame plays the three stringed Shamisen, while to his right, Mayumi's Mother, Amaya, plays the thirteen string Koto. While Ayame and Amaya sit rather rigidly as they play, young Michio seems more animated.
Charlie, fully engrossed in the experience of their performance, and in the intimacy of sharing the experience with Mayumi, closes his eyes. Feeling a small sense of sadness that he cannot touch May's mind as he had yesterday, with Lord Aramys, he wraps his arms tighter around May, drawing her as close as possible. He buries his face in her hair, nuzzling her neck and shoulder, filling his senses with the sweetness of her scent, and the serenity of the music.
May reaches up with one hand and pulls her long hair over her left shoulder, letting it spill into her lap. Then, she discreetly lets the covers over her right shoulder slip off, exposing bare skin to Charlie's lips. She turns her head and demurely smiles to him, letting her own eyes flutter closed as his unshaven lips find her bared flesh. She smiles as his warm breath tickles her skin, all the way down to the gentle beginnings of the swell of her right breast. She settles back against him, feeling warm, content, and full of love.
Across the garden, sitting upon the spongy loam of a small hillock, Shinkazu Zark also relaxes to the music. It has been some time since his wife allowed herself the pleasure of playing the Koto; even longer yet, since she had been honored to have two such fine partners to join her in performing. Surely, he thinks to himself, the arrival of the boy is an auspicious one.
He turns slightly to where his daughter, and Weasley-san, sit together. For several minutes, his gaze does not deviate, as his mind roils with the conflict of emotion versus prudence. His eyes close as he sifts backwards through his memories of his married life. Specifically, key moments in the life of his daughter. As always, the lingering aftereffects of the shame that had once poisoned his self, and the ones he loved, floats to the top of his memories like pond scum. Though it had hurt him, he respects that shame, for it had also taught him many things.
Now fortified against the shame, Shinkazu faces the ever present feelings of regret. “With that Demon, I still battle”, he tells himself. Opening himself to the regret, he allows himself to remember.
At his invitation, 16 year old Mayumi sits timidly on the tatami beside him, in his private study. The polished wood of the floors reflect the diffused light from the door panels that lead to the wooden deck beyond. The walls and ceiling, like all of the rooms of his house, are of natural, aged woods, that are shellacked to a rich, natural glow. He holds open in his hands the written report on Mayumi's performance at Kushiro School of Magic, which she had just returned from, finishing her fifth year.
As per custom, Mayumi had only attended school for five years, as it was expected that she would be returning to an apprenticeship position at the Enclave. With shame, he painfully re-read the summation of Kotoharu-sensei, regarding his daughter's five years of education. The words,'inept', 'inadequate', and 'doubtful' burned holes in his soul. Taking a deep breath, he begins to steel himself to the dismal future he foresees for his only child.
His silence is a knife in the heart of his daughter.
Young Mayumi sits at a small table near the firing line of her first archery contest. Lined up side-to-side, her competition target arrows sit, points facing away from her. Carefully she inspects each shaft for trueness, the fletching of each for wear and damage, and the nock. Finally, the points themselves are checked. Carefully, she returns each arrow to the quiver. Shinkazu watches from a short distance, feeling very proud of the fact that Mayumi had made it to the semi-finals.
He watches as she steps up to the line, places her quiver in the proper place, and then bends her bow over her leg to seat the bow string properly. A snide comment, directed towards May, is heard from one of the young contestants who had already lost in an earlier round. Angry inside, Shinkazu lets his now blank face turn slightly to better see from whom the comment came. He sees that the young son of Masakai-san, one of the local mid-level administrators of the Enclave, is responsible. The arrogant youth stares back at him with disdain. He looks now to the father, who returns his attention with arrogant nonchalance.
Suddenly, the crowd reacts collectively with a disappointing sigh. Shinkazu returns his attention to his daughter, only to see her standing dejectedly, with one of the judges walking up to her side. Shinkazu then sees the broken bow string hanging limply from the bow. It had broken near the top, where it would loop over the end of the bow. He strides forwards to talk to the judge, knowing that, if the string broke before an arrow was shot, she could replace it and continue.
It was then that he sees the arrow embedded in the ground, point first, some 8 meters down range.
As her failure is announced, his daughter turns in dejected sorrow, and asks him for his forgiveness.
The snows of February, 1974, were very deep that year. Shinkazu paced anxiously back and forth in the long passage that ran the length of their house, waiting for word that his pregnant wife, now four hours in labor, had birthed him a strong and healthy son.
At one end of the hall, the mid wives attended his wife in the bedroom. At the other end, his parents sat silent vigil in his study, waiting for the outcome to the question that had consumed his happiness and eroded his sense of self-worth, since he had married his beautiful wife, Amaya.
Would the child be a son? Would the Zark bloodline continue?
No.
Failure. He was a complete disgrace to his family and an utter failure.
The shame burned within his belly like hot coals.
His father had only stared at him, before he left that day. His mother tried to embrace him, only to be rebuffed.
He could not bring himself to see his child for three days. His daughter. His flesh and... blood. No, Sato blood, he told himself, trying to deny his responsibility. The girl child, as he began to refer to it, was Sato, NOT Zark.
On the third day, his mother slapped him hard across his cheek. An hour later, he abased himself to his wife, asking for her forgiveness, for acting as he had towards their daughter. His daughter, of his blood and flesh. His little Mayumi.
The music had stopped.
Amaya kneels at the side her strong husband, facing his left side, watching as he shudders slightly in his silent reflection. Always the nurturing urge to reach out to him. Always the conflict with the societal restrictions she had been taught as a girl.
“Shinkazu?”
Slowly, he gathers himself, and opens his eyes. He acknowledges Amaya by simply reaching his left hand to cover her hands, which rest in her lap.
Turning her head towards her daughter's lodging, Amaya says, in Japanese, “A grown woman she is, Shinkazu.”
“Hai”, he says, resignedly, but also with a degree of pride.
“He will ask you for permission to marry her, I am thinking.”
Shinkazu turns his head slightly towards Amaya, while looking down towards the ground. His face tenses slightly, as if seeking the right thing to say.
“A strong man he is, Shinkazu.” She nudges him slightly, causing him to look up into her eyes. “Good spirit. Good blood.” Amaya pauses, then says in a quizzical voice, “Burudoggu?”
Shinkazu's stoic mien cracks; a tiny smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “Hai. Burudoggu.”
Amaya smiles her own, sly smile, rocks back slightly, and stands up.
Shinkazu raises his eyebrows, asking, “Douka Shimashita ka?”
“Nothing is wrong, Shinkazu. A dinner I have to prepare!”
“That's right”, he replies in Japanese. He unfolds his own legs and stands up easily.
They both turn and walk back to the door to their own quarters.
As the sliding door shuts, the sounds of gurgling water and swaying stands of bamboo are the only things to disturb the serenity of the Zark family compound.
Mayumi's Residence
Drifting peacefully afloat on an old, faded black, Muggle 'tire tube', young Charlie, wearing only an old pair of hand-me-down bathing shorts, slips along a quiet, shallow stretch of the River Otter, enjoying the lazy summer afternoon sunshine. Alone, with none of his brothers, his Mum, his Dad, nor even little Ginevra, to disturb him. He thinks back to his experiences earlier this year, his second, at Hogwarts. Memories of: playing Quidditch with his mates, the great food, Gryffindor house, young Stephanie Hodgkin of Ravenclaw, snogging young Stephanie Hodgkin under a table at the Library and not getting caught, playing Quidditch with his mates again, then running into young Stephanie Hodgkin mid-air during the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, and the pain as her splintered broom sliced upwards into his left thigh; all floated lazily through his mind. He absently reaches down and scratches at the long, pink scar on his left leg above the knee.
As the inner tube floats past a small dock on the left bank, Charlie can barely hear the sounds of a delicately ethereal musical instrument. He listens carefully as the music grows clearer. He feels the music pulling him along. A thin wisp of cold air tickles his left foot. The music changes, as another instrument joins in. Another caress of icy air tickles the hair on his bare leg, and his exposed shoulder.
Charlie semi-consciously pulls his feet up under the blanket, while trying to cover his shoulder and neck, wanting very much to stay in bed with his lover. He reaches for Mayumi, only to find her half of her bed cool and empty. Rolling onto his back, he opens his eyes slowly, and gazes upwards at the open-framed ceiling timbers. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, and groggily looks around for May. Not seeing her, he sits up and pulls back the comforter and the blankets beneath. Moving to the edge of the bed, he steps into his slippers. He reaches for his robe, stands, and slips it on.
The music draws him from the bedroom out into the front room. A thin crack in the doorway leading to the wooden front deck lets a slice of light in from the outside, along with the cold draft he has been feeling. Wondering where Mayumi has gone off to, Charlie approaches the door, prepared to shut the door tight. Sighting through the crack, with his hand on the handle, Charlie sees May sitting on the deck with her long, raven blue-black, hair falling about her shoulders and back. Intrigued, he pushes open the sliding wooden door further. The music grows louder.
Hearing the door slide open behind her, May turns and motions to Charlie to quietly join her. It is then that Charlie sees the source of the music. A wide smile crosses his face. Charlie acknowledges her, ducks back inside, and returns momentarily with a heavy cover. He notices that May sits upon her magic Tatami. He carefully walks up behind her, stepping gingerly on the Tatami, which hovers a few inches off of the icy cold wooden decking. Careful to maintain his balance, he sits behind May, his legs then surrounding her, while he pulls the large cover over his back and shoulders, and then around Mayumi as he wraps his arms around her. He softly kisses her head, and relaxes to the beauty of the picturesque vision in front of them.
Having arrived at the Enclave in the darkness of the early evening the previous day, following their full day of meetings and the impromptu Zark – Sato family reunion, Charlie did not have the chance to survey the neighborhood much. He remembers brick paved pathways and narrow alleys, dimly lit by lanterns which hung from hooks atop wooden poles. Those same lanterns cast warm, diffused light upon the scattered doorways of the residences, many of which were bunched right up to the edge of the paved lanes. As they had approached her home, walking hand-in-hand, the lights became fewer, and the shadows deeper. Though Charlie thought it odd enough to notice, his thoughts were more on the person he was with, and the tired condition he was in, at the time.
Now, in the light of the early morn, Charlie can finally see what he had missed the night before. The serene, snowy landscape in front of them is of a medium sized, traditional Japanese Tea garden. A babbling brook of icy water tumbles amongst large, moss covered rocks, then splashes noisily into a large pool. Tall evergreen trees, their boughs laden with the accumulation of the overnight snowfall, stand stately and proud, while bare maples, stands of green bamboo, and smaller plantings add to the landscape. It is the small, ceremonial Tea Hut that sits above the surface of the pool, however, that has their complete attention. Or rather, it is the trio of musicians that sit within it, that garners their silent admiration.
For within the hut, its side open to plain view, young Michio sits upon a low stool, as he plays his enhanced Shakuhachi. To his left, Aunt Ayame plays the three stringed Shamisen, while to his right, Mayumi's Mother, Amaya, plays the thirteen string Koto. While Ayame and Amaya sit rather rigidly as they play, young Michio seems more animated.
Charlie, fully engrossed in the experience of their performance, and in the intimacy of sharing the experience with Mayumi, closes his eyes. Feeling a small sense of sadness that he cannot touch May's mind as he had yesterday, with Lord Aramys, he wraps his arms tighter around May, drawing her as close as possible. He buries his face in her hair, nuzzling her neck and shoulder, filling his senses with the sweetness of her scent, and the serenity of the music.
May reaches up with one hand and pulls her long hair over her left shoulder, letting it spill into her lap. Then, she discreetly lets the covers over her right shoulder slip off, exposing bare skin to Charlie's lips. She turns her head and demurely smiles to him, letting her own eyes flutter closed as his unshaven lips find her bared flesh. She smiles as his warm breath tickles her skin, all the way down to the gentle beginnings of the swell of her right breast. She settles back against him, feeling warm, content, and full of love.
Across the garden, sitting upon the spongy loam of a small hillock, Shinkazu Zark also relaxes to the music. It has been some time since his wife allowed herself the pleasure of playing the Koto; even longer yet, since she had been honored to have two such fine partners to join her in performing. Surely, he thinks to himself, the arrival of the boy is an auspicious one.
He turns slightly to where his daughter, and Weasley-san, sit together. For several minutes, his gaze does not deviate, as his mind roils with the conflict of emotion versus prudence. His eyes close as he sifts backwards through his memories of his married life. Specifically, key moments in the life of his daughter. As always, the lingering aftereffects of the shame that had once poisoned his self, and the ones he loved, floats to the top of his memories like pond scum. Though it had hurt him, he respects that shame, for it had also taught him many things.
Now fortified against the shame, Shinkazu faces the ever present feelings of regret. “With that Demon, I still battle”, he tells himself. Opening himself to the regret, he allows himself to remember.
At his invitation, 16 year old Mayumi sits timidly on the tatami beside him, in his private study. The polished wood of the floors reflect the diffused light from the door panels that lead to the wooden deck beyond. The walls and ceiling, like all of the rooms of his house, are of natural, aged woods, that are shellacked to a rich, natural glow. He holds open in his hands the written report on Mayumi's performance at Kushiro School of Magic, which she had just returned from, finishing her fifth year.
As per custom, Mayumi had only attended school for five years, as it was expected that she would be returning to an apprenticeship position at the Enclave. With shame, he painfully re-read the summation of Kotoharu-sensei, regarding his daughter's five years of education. The words,'inept', 'inadequate', and 'doubtful' burned holes in his soul. Taking a deep breath, he begins to steel himself to the dismal future he foresees for his only child.
His silence is a knife in the heart of his daughter.
Young Mayumi sits at a small table near the firing line of her first archery contest. Lined up side-to-side, her competition target arrows sit, points facing away from her. Carefully she inspects each shaft for trueness, the fletching of each for wear and damage, and the nock. Finally, the points themselves are checked. Carefully, she returns each arrow to the quiver. Shinkazu watches from a short distance, feeling very proud of the fact that Mayumi had made it to the semi-finals.
He watches as she steps up to the line, places her quiver in the proper place, and then bends her bow over her leg to seat the bow string properly. A snide comment, directed towards May, is heard from one of the young contestants who had already lost in an earlier round. Angry inside, Shinkazu lets his now blank face turn slightly to better see from whom the comment came. He sees that the young son of Masakai-san, one of the local mid-level administrators of the Enclave, is responsible. The arrogant youth stares back at him with disdain. He looks now to the father, who returns his attention with arrogant nonchalance.
Suddenly, the crowd reacts collectively with a disappointing sigh. Shinkazu returns his attention to his daughter, only to see her standing dejectedly, with one of the judges walking up to her side. Shinkazu then sees the broken bow string hanging limply from the bow. It had broken near the top, where it would loop over the end of the bow. He strides forwards to talk to the judge, knowing that, if the string broke before an arrow was shot, she could replace it and continue.
It was then that he sees the arrow embedded in the ground, point first, some 8 meters down range.
As her failure is announced, his daughter turns in dejected sorrow, and asks him for his forgiveness.
The snows of February, 1974, were very deep that year. Shinkazu paced anxiously back and forth in the long passage that ran the length of their house, waiting for word that his pregnant wife, now four hours in labor, had birthed him a strong and healthy son.
At one end of the hall, the mid wives attended his wife in the bedroom. At the other end, his parents sat silent vigil in his study, waiting for the outcome to the question that had consumed his happiness and eroded his sense of self-worth, since he had married his beautiful wife, Amaya.
Would the child be a son? Would the Zark bloodline continue?
No.
Failure. He was a complete disgrace to his family and an utter failure.
The shame burned within his belly like hot coals.
His father had only stared at him, before he left that day. His mother tried to embrace him, only to be rebuffed.
He could not bring himself to see his child for three days. His daughter. His flesh and... blood. No, Sato blood, he told himself, trying to deny his responsibility. The girl child, as he began to refer to it, was Sato, NOT Zark.
On the third day, his mother slapped him hard across his cheek. An hour later, he abased himself to his wife, asking for her forgiveness, for acting as he had towards their daughter. His daughter, of his blood and flesh. His little Mayumi.
The music had stopped.
Amaya kneels at the side her strong husband, facing his left side, watching as he shudders slightly in his silent reflection. Always the nurturing urge to reach out to him. Always the conflict with the societal restrictions she had been taught as a girl.
“Shinkazu?”
Slowly, he gathers himself, and opens his eyes. He acknowledges Amaya by simply reaching his left hand to cover her hands, which rest in her lap.
Turning her head towards her daughter's lodging, Amaya says, in Japanese, “A grown woman she is, Shinkazu.”
“Hai”, he says, resignedly, but also with a degree of pride.
“He will ask you for permission to marry her, I am thinking.”
Shinkazu turns his head slightly towards Amaya, while looking down towards the ground. His face tenses slightly, as if seeking the right thing to say.
“A strong man he is, Shinkazu.” She nudges him slightly, causing him to look up into her eyes. “Good spirit. Good blood.” Amaya pauses, then says in a quizzical voice, “Burudoggu?”
Shinkazu's stoic mien cracks; a tiny smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “Hai. Burudoggu.”
Amaya smiles her own, sly smile, rocks back slightly, and stands up.
Shinkazu raises his eyebrows, asking, “Douka Shimashita ka?”
“Nothing is wrong, Shinkazu. A dinner I have to prepare!”
“That's right”, he replies in Japanese. He unfolds his own legs and stands up easily.
They both turn and walk back to the door to their own quarters.
As the sliding door shuts, the sounds of gurgling water and swaying stands of bamboo are the only things to disturb the serenity of the Zark family compound.
Sign up to rate and review this story