Anzo

Anzo is walking the streets of Eclorion for many many millennials now. He has seen how the cities and small villages grew bigger over time. From stores and cafes opening and some decades later closing down again to apartment buildings that seemingly came from out of nowhere overnight. Small saplings are now grown into beautiful trees that bring reprieve from a hot summer day to a forest, as old as time itself, being replaced by homes for all of the new faces that came and went over time. To make it simple, Anzo does not recall his first days as enoki anymore, nor the decades and centuries that followed after. The only thing that reminds of the past are his paintings, however many of them did not survive the harsh millennia they had been put through. The colors slowly fading away at some places even starting to flake.

One painting in particular he holds very dear, it was his first lover. And oh how he loved the man. He met him when he was just a few hundred years old. It clicked instantly, both getting swept away by a wave of emotions neither of the men were prepared for. It felt like they knew each other before, always knowing what the other one was thinking or had to say. They hunted together, accepted summons, helped each other with their first scarification, they trusted each other without question and loved each other like there was nobody else in the world. They teased and challenged each other, played with other Enoki to get a reaction out of the other person. His smile, his god damn smile, still gets Anzo to his day. He can’t remember the sound of his laugh anymore, he can’t remember how his voice sounded, neither can he tell what color his skin or essence was. How he smelled or how his body felt against his. It’s all gone. Not even the painting is able to tell him that, Anzo didn’t know how to properly prepare the colors back then, so they changed over time. But his smile is burned into his mind. What he does remember clearly is the day he lost him, a simple summon, just for him. He never came back. He should’ve gone with him, as he always did. To keep each other safe, but his lover assured him nothing is going to happen.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m gonna be fine. You know that!”, he replied softly while holding Anzo's face in his hands, their foreheads touching and the flames intertwined.

“You know I want to believe it, but I’m worried. I don’t wanna lose you..”, Anzo replied, barely audible looking into eyes he wishes he could still remember.

“I love you, always and forever. I will never leave you”, one last kiss, one last embrace. His hand slipped from Anzo’s grasp. He never came back.

To this day, Anzo is not able to let these memories go, to let them rest. He looked for him, for centuries and more. It’s like the world just ate him whole and refused to give him back. He couldn’t accept that he was gone, he just couldn’t. While Anzo managed to fall in love again, it was never the same. Never as pure and intense. As time passed he started to shut down, distancing himself futher and further. Nobody could replace him or so he thought for a long time. He started to prefer simple friendships over the years, if his friends had interest in being more intimate he welcomed that with open arms, but not more. Never more.

His job kept him occupied, he hunted and accepted as many summons as he could, his interest in the society of his prey’s ever more growing. He wanted to know it all, their weaknesses, their strengths, how to play them against each other, how to wrap them around his fingers. Slowly acquiring the knowledge on how to read, how to break them.

Everything he learned in his long life is written down and available at his antique museum, making it accessible for his fellow enoki for eternity. On top of that he also started to offer his services, humbly calling himself an anthropologist and a mentor for the young ones. Or whoever seeks his guidance.

It took many many years for Anzo to accept the loss of his arm. And no it’s not about the loss itself, rather about the feelings and thoughts around it. Anzo is very much convinced he deserved what happened to him, to the dismay of many, and he won’t be convinced otherwise. A burden he will carry until his dying breath.

While the initial guilt and disgust to himself slowly subsided, the regret stayed. The regret of not saving his love, not being able to protect his oldest friend or rather find him earlier, the regret of giving up friends for his search, loosing even more in the time he was away. And it doesn't end there, many times he wished he could’ve done better, a word of advice, a firm grip to keep someone from leaving, being more powerful to protect those he loved.

A while back these thoughts kept him up at night, unknowingly for Anzo, pushing him away from the people that cared about him. You can only distance yourself so much until they stay away. Often reasoning with himself that they won‘t understand what he was going through. They did understand him, but try convincing a man so old he can’t even remember his earlier years anymore. His arrogance and stubbornness almost drove him off the edge of a cliff, not being able to turn around.

However this was not the case and it was a wake up call for Anzo. Something needed to change and quickly. Instead of hunting ghosts of the past, he wanted to learn to hold on to the people of the present, walking beside them as friend, maybe even lover. Be the guiding hand that grips their shoulder, give words of advice, to keep them safe and slay any danger that threatens who he holds dear. He wanted to support them with all he had and more, he wouldn’t be satisfied with less.

Not many get the privilege to be as old as Anzo is, he wanted to enjoy life again and be the constant present he always had been for many Enoki. He started to look into prosthetics as a start, of course it couldn’t be just any prosthetic it had to be perfect. Getting used to the prosthetic was easier than he thought, however the almost quiet and liquid grace he carried with his gestures was not as easy to master with the new arm. Through music he learned exactly that, while also keeping his longing and loneliness at bay. He picked up how to play that harp, the first of many instruments and his favorite. Over time he also learned the violin, a simple guitar and sometimes even the mandolin. But the harp is by far his favorite.

If he holds someone dear, they might be so lucky and may be allowed to sit and listen while Anzo plays music.