"Kamui"
Deep in the mountains, on a ridge where a cold wind blew through, there was a bear.
His name was Kamui, and he was a descendant of a clan that once laid down roots in this land.
Kamui's eyes caught the lights of a distant village and blinked silently.
There was land where their ancestors had once lived.
It was now land that belonged to the "humans" who had arrived.
Kamui's grandfather often said.
"These mountains, rivers, and forests belong to no one. Nature has no boundaries."
But the humans who arrived drew boundaries.
They erected fences and put up signs, declaring, "This is our land."
They spoke of "patriotism," waved flags, and shouted.
"We will not hand our land over to outsiders!"
Kamui knew.
Those they despise and refer to as "outsiders" were once themselves.
The Kamui clan welcomed "immigrants" who washed up on this island long ago.
To them, this land was a place of peace they had finally found after crossing the seas and mountains.
They hoped to put down roots and live here.
The Kamui, who believe that the land belongs to no one, accepted this belief.
But they multiplied.
As their numbers grew, the humans eventually began to call the Kamui "bears" and scorn them.
They were driven into the mountains, exterminated, and forgotten.
Their songs, stories, and prayers for the land were all lost in the wind.
Now, new "immigrants" were the talk of the town.
They were arriving from across the sea, from another island, or even from a more distant continent.
They came in search of work and to survive.
But the villagers frown.
"Are you trying to take our land?"
Kamui thinks.
They, too, are once like that.
One night, Kamui descends into the village.
An empty house catches his eye.
A house where someone once lived, laughed, cried, and made a living.
But now there is no one there.
Kamui quietly enters.
Dust has accumulated on the floor, and faded family photos are on the walls.
Kamui thinks.
This house belongs to those who lived there.
Without someone to live in it, it's just a shell.
The villagers dislike newcomers moving into vacant houses.
"Don't pollute our land," they say.
But Kamui knows.
They themselves are descendants of immigrants who settled on land that was once vacant.
The first settlers cleared forests, dammed rivers, and transformed the land.
They remade it to make it more livable for themselves. That was only natural.
And yet, now they refuse to allow the newcomers to do the same.
It was something they could never fathom.
Kamui returned to the forest and looked up at the stars.
The humans had forgotten.
That they were immigrants.
That they were "ones who had multiplied."
The land belonged to no one, yet they called it their "homeland," drew lines, and fought.
There are no such lines in nature.
Just as bears cross mountains and rivers, boundaries are merely an illusion.
The next morning, Kamui was caught in a trap near the village.
Iron teeth bit into his leg, and blood soaked the soil.
The villagers arrived.
Guns in hand, eyes shining, they whispered to each other, "The bear has come again."
Kamui looks into their eyes.
He sees himself in them.
The fear and anger of a clan once driven into the mountains, and their determination to protect their land.
The bear clan, too, had begun to feel attached to their land.
That's why they perished.
It's the way of life that those who desire often lose.
"Exterminate this bear," someone says.
Kamui quietly closes his eyes.
History repeats itself.
Now, the person being called a bear and exterminated is surely their future self.
One day, new "increasing beings" will arrive on this land.
They will once again draw new boundaries.
And they will forget who they were, having arrived in the past, and once again call these newcomers "outsiders."
The wind blows.
This cycle repeats itself.
I'm so tired...
Kamui's blood is absorbed into the earth and returns to the forest.
Nature simply watched in silence.
The Kamui felt strongly that their species was being wiped out here.
And then they fell into a deep sleep...
