The Tale of Kakureta

This sub-article tells an in-depth backstory about the character Kakureta.
Character main-article: Kakureta
Once upon a time, there was a young man known under the name of Kakureta. He lived on the border of a faraway Nordic town, where the cold reigned for months and the sun only shone on rare occasions. Called “Kaku” by everyone who knew him, the young man lived off of vegetables he grew in his garden, and of trade with passing merchants from the city. Every day was the same; he would take care of his crops and harvest the fruits of his labor when he could. But the winters were long and tedious where the poor Kakureta lived, and year after year, the harvest would get worse and worse. This young man knew of no other way to survive than to cultivate the earth, as he had been abandoned by his parents at a very young age and had used farming to survive on his own. Kakureta was well aware of his imminent demise and saw himself become more and more depressed as the days passed. This season was going to be his last, that much was obvious. However, there was one thing that always chased away his bad mood, one thing that always made him smile, and that was adventure.
One day, as he was starving and taking care of his crops, a mysterious merchant slowly passed by his house. Sitting down at the front of his cart pulled by a pretty mare, the old man, who wore a large hat that nearly covered his eyes, stopped and stared at Kaku, who spoke first.
“What are you doing here, my good sir? If it is to trade, I’m afraid I’ve got nothing to offer you. You would do best to look elsewhere,” said Kakureta.
The merchant responded: “Winter keeps dragging on and your plants are not growing, young Kaku.” He knew his name, which surprised the young man. “I might have a solution for you.”
“A solution?” asked Kakureta. “What is it? And how do you know my name?”
“What I know and do not know hardly matters” The old one pointed at the mountains.“Follow the crows, and present yourself in front of the pillar. She will await you there, an old friend of mine. Offer her your blood, and she will give you what you seek.”
And gone as fast as he had arrived, the old merchant was out of sight. The young farm boy was confused and troubled. Troubled, but excited. The taste of adventure was returning to him. One last time, before he faded away forever. One last time wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? He was probably going to die on his way there, he thought. It was perfect, he had nothing to lose. What if the merchant was telling the truth? What if there truly was someone up there who could help him? Without another moment of hesitation, Kaku gathered every supply he had left and departed towards the mountains.
The journey was long, and not without its fair share of problems along the way, but despite the setback, the young man continued on his path, determined. Follow the crows, he repeated to himself, and follow them he did. Crows were not rare in this region, but the further he traveled in the mountains, the more common they seemed to be. Eventually, he arrived at what he believed was his destination: An old sanctuary dedicated to a forgotten goddess. The place was in ruins, with an open sky and large odd looking pillars spewing up from the ground all over the place. Everything looked ancient and in bad shape, everything but the supposed “pillar” structure standing in the center of the clearing. The enormous building of dark chiseled stone stood taller than everything else here, and had strange blue symbols engraved on its surface. At the top of the pillar was perched a magnificent bird with feathers as black as night that looked down at him with a scornful look, a raven. Kaku was confused. He had come all this way for this? It made absolutely no sense! The young man tried to recall the words of the merchant. He soon understood what he had to do, but remained uncertain. Give it… blood? He kneeled down in front of the bird and spoke to it:
“I was told you are the one who can help me. My plants do not grow anymore, and spring refuses to come early, to such an extent that I will soon starve to death. You must help me, please! I do not wish to die…”
The animal did not ruffle even a feather, but Kakureta felt there was more to this bird than what it lead on. Possessed by a sudden epiphany, he held out his hand and spoke directly to the raven once again:
“Oh, great Goddess, I offer you my blood, please grant me the power of spring.”
“Very well,” answered a feminine voice that seemed to echo in the entire sanctuary. “I will lend you my power, peasant. Make good use of it, as it is full of benevolence.”
The bird took flight and landed on Kaku’s arm. The raven violently pecked the palm of his hand and tore his skin. Blood flowed out, and the bird drank with his beak. It took flight once again and left the area moments later. Kaku was in a state of shock and was unable to comprehend what had just happened. He fainted moments later.
When he awoke, Kakureta felt different and much to his surprise, he was. Dressed all in green clothing and equipped with some sort of wooden staff that looked almost magical, he noticed he was at home. How was this possible? Could it be that it had really worked? He couldn’t have dreamed all this. He observed his left hand and noticed that the wound had completely healed. Enthusiastic at the idea of having newfound powers, Kakureta rushed outside. He could now grow any plant, any fruit or vegetable, and he could do so instantly. He could heal any wound in a matter of seconds. He could bring about rain and spring temperatures with a wave of his staff, He could even fly! And so he flew in the sky like a majestic raven. He had never been happier, and he made everyone around him happy as well. In one day, he had gone to the village, traded all the crops he could grow and healed the entire population of the village. Everybody loved him. When he went back home at dusk, he took time to thank the goddess for this gift she had granted him.
Months passed, and Kakureta continued to do what he did best. He had grown an enormous garden, and spent his days protecting the villagers and healing them as soon as they needed it. His actions earned him the title of “Kakureta, the spirit of spring.” He loved that nickname. One day, as he observed his garden, he realized he was perhaps going too far. His crops were far too big and ripe, almost rotten. It rained every day, and the sun never showed itself, so much so that the region was starting to flood, and some people were starting to blame him. Summer wasn’t coming, and he had to act. He took flight towards the mountains and followed the crows to find his way. When he arrived, he found the raven perched upon the pillar, just like last time. He kneeled.
“Oh, great Goddess, I offer you my blood, please grant me the power of summer.”
“Very well,” answered the goddess. “I will lend you my power, spirit. Make good use of it, as it is the most powerful.”
The young man smiled and thanked the deity, before letting himself be drained of his blood by the raven and falling unconscious for the second time.
When he awoke, he saw that his appearance had once again changed. He no longer had the powers of the spirit of spring. Instead, he could will flames to appear in his hands and manifest fire under all its forms. He could forge any weapon by melting metal and he could bring the heat and the sun with a simple swing of his staff. Of course, he could still fly. He became the best blacksmith of the village, made everyone happy and allowed the people to harvest the crops of the new season. But things weren’t always so cheerful in the summer… Weeks passed and the spirit of summer realized the situation was starting to resemble the one from the end of spring. The sun always shone, the days were too hot to bear and it never rained. The entire region was in drought. He had gone too far once again, and found he could no longer control his power. He went to the goddess a third time. This time he was prepared and had cut himself with a knife beforehand.
“Oh, great Goddess, I offer you my blood, please grant me the power of fall.”
“Very well,” answered the goddess. “I will lend you my power, blacksmith. Make good use of it, as it is the most mysterious.”
Mysterious? What did she mean? He thought nothing of it, and once again let his consciousness fade away. When he woke up, his appearance had changed again. This time however, his powers were more limited. He could still change the climate, but he had no new special powers except the ability to camouflage himself and remain invisible. He couldn’t even fly anymore! He was disappointed he couldn’t do much to help the villagers, as he had once done before. A few days passed, and Kaku noticed with horror that everything he touched died. The trees lost their leaves, the plants withered and crumbled away in the wind. All that was left of his garden was a gray desert where the wind blew and nothing else. He hated it. He hated everything. He hated this power. The entire village blamed him for their poor harvest and was angry at him. They started blaming the deaths of some of the villagers on him. Eventually, they blamed everything on him, even things that were out of his control. They despised the spirit of fall, and Kakureta found he couldn’t handle it anymore. He stayed clear of the village and hid away in his old house. He was sad, so sad that one day, he couldn’t feel anything anymore. No emotion, no nothing. Nothing… except anger. Anger. Hate. Anger. Hate. He couldn’t take it any longer. Fall wasn’t over, but this had to change. He traveled to the shrine of the goddess. As usual, the raven awaited. The young Kakureta didn’t even take the time to kneel and went straight to business.
“Oh, great Goddess, I offer you my blood, please grant me the power of winter.”
“Careful,” said the goddess. “I am willing to give you my power, but winter hasn’t arrived yet. You must not, under no circumstances, use this power until next month, else a great disaster will fall upon us all. Be very careful with its use, as this one is the most dangerous.”
Kakureta ignored the warnings of the deity and closed his eyes. When he awoke, he already knew, for some reason, the extent of his abilities, but he knew full well he shouldn’t use them. This, he found, was a lot harder than he thought, as his new powers were tempting. Everything around him was still dying, and the people still hated him. And so, he was unable to wait any longer. The next morning, he unlocked his powers. His appearance had now drastically changed, he wore a blue sweater, had pure white hair and piercing blue eyes and was equipped with a staff of frozen dead wood. He was now capable of whipping up blizzards and snowstorms. He could build anything out of ice, and he could fly faster than he had ever flown before. He felt free. But something was off. The people did not like him any more than before. The days were becoming unbearably cold and the blizzards were more and more severe and lasted for hours. The villagers hated him even more, but this time, they didn’t cast him away. They wanted him dead. Once Kakureta realized that, he felt once again what he had once felt. Anger… hate… bloodlust. Taken by rage, he whipped up a snowstorm so big villagers were trapped in their houses. One by one they died. Some died of cold, some died of sickness, some, of hunger. When the young man calmed down and realized his mistakes, it was already too late. He had killed the entire village. His friends, the people he had sworn to protect, were dead. He cried and yelled out for the goddess’ help. Much to his surprise, she actually appeared before him, in the flesh, in her human form with wings.
“I warned you, Kakureta, now you shall pay for your mistakes.” she told him.
“I’m sorry”, is what Kaku would’ve liked to answer. However, he found he could no longer speak. His vocals were frozen somehow. The goddess took her bird form and disappeared in the sky.
Left alone in the dark, Kakureta looked at the village, but there was none. Everything was destroyed, buried under tons of snow. He was the sole survivor of an apocalypse he had caused himself. He should have felt guilty, but he didn’t. He didn’t because he had already forgotten. His memories were fading away and slowly ceased to exist, just like his voice.
Some time later, a young man with white hair woke up, with his only memories being the word “Kakureta” and the image of a beautiful goddess with wings as dark as night…
Category:Character Lore