What a magnificent piece of art.

Kabuto looked at the ancient tree with awe and admiration. It wasn‟t that big, barely 4-5 feet of height. The foliage of the tree was veiling the moon, which was rising upon the sky like an old electric bulb. In that remotest valley, surrounded by mountains, the tree stood like a dethroned queen.

Kabuto‟s hand moved through the harsh old bark, feeling the fissures and texture under his skin. He felt gratitude towards the tree for growing into such a magnificent piece of art. It was of no doubt that he was going to earn a good sum of money if he could take this with him.

He stood almost at the middle of a mystical valley. The evening was still young, the sky hadn‟t completely darkened yet. The light of the full moon was flooding the valley and everything around it, providing a more enigmatic charm to the place. Mist clad hills were raised all around the valley, carpeted with dense greenery. The silhouette of the titanic mountains could be noticed on the background of the darkening sky.

Kabuto wasn‟t by himself, with him was his apprentice cum assistant, Sam, and there were a few workers from local villages to do the menial jobs and carry things.

Kabuto looked at his assistant, "This is it, take it."

Sam remained quiet. Kabuto was an experienced businessman. He didn‟t always rely on the words of the mouth. From his personal experience, he knew that the language of the body was much pertaining to the truth to the language of your mouth. Very few people could control the language of the body. Most common men couldn‟t help but keep it exposed like an open book, naked to the plain eyes. Sam was no exception to that. Kabuto could sense the hesitation, but his assistant wasn‟t daring to say anything.

"Just say what you‟re thinking."

Sam looked at his Kabuto‟s eyes for a moment. Then in a barely audible voice, he uttered, "The workers are very scared. They don‟t want to be here." "Why is so?"

"They say that we have ended up in the Valley of Yasha. It is not a place for mortals like us. We must exit as soon as possible or he will be angry."

Kabuto‟s lips twitched with a smile, "I see, and who might our friend Yasha be, and how his anger might affect us?"

"He‟s not a person, a demigod, the workers think it might bring bad luck -"

Kabuto laughed out loud without letting his assistant complete his words. Then he took out a cigarette, lit it and took a long drag. He closed his eyes, enjoying the smoke within his lungs. His eyes remained closed for a few seconds, Sam wasn‟t sure whether Kabuto was calculating something or suppressing his anger.

With a deep sigh, Kabuto released the smoke from his lungs. The smoke dispersed into the wild scented air of the valley like venom spreading through blood.

"You see Sam, you had been with me for a long time to know that I‟m a self-made man, and luck is the last thing which was ever with me. I had to fight with nail and claws to get what I ever wanted."

Then Kabuto looked at the moon which had become quite brighter than before. "And I can assure you that there is no God to be angered. Even if there is, he, she or they don‟t give a damn about us. We‟re just a random speck in a vast cosmos, just an accidental outcome of chaos. There is no fate or God‟s plan. It‟s just the weak people‟s defense mechanism."

Sam‟s lips were pressed into a tight thin line. It was clearly expressing the fact that even though he admired and respected Kabuto, but those words (rather harsh) didn‟t sit well with him. But at the same time, he wasn‟t in a position to argue with his boss.

Kabuto took another long drag, enjoying the sensation and burn of the smoke. He felt more confident now. He looked at the tree which stood alone on a small bump of earth, like a ballet dancer with twisted limbs. The moon had risen right over it. The tree seemed like exhibiting its enchanting beauty to this lonely valley, not a single soul to witness that. Well, not until now.

"I‟ll double the pay. Let the workers get to work first thing tomorrow." Kabuto very consciously mixed a commanding tone in his words. He knew when to pull the string.

Sam didn‟t utter a single word, but it seemed like he had agreed, seeing no other way.

That night they camped at the edge of the valley. As Kabuto had mentioned before, he was a self-made man. He wasn‟t terribly wealthy though. If he was, then he wouldn‟t have been wandering in these wild places, searching trees for someone else. But he was making his way towards his desire for wealth pretty quickly. In fact, he had risen through the food chain very fast, considering the fact that he had nothing to begin with when he first started. For the past few years, he had seen nothing but good fortune, even though he never believed in luck. It was his undefeatable determination that made him work against all the odds, and that was why what he hated most was the humane weakness of emotions.

He did all kinds of odd jobs, legal and illegal. Presently he was working as a supplier to a renowned bonsai master. Contrary to popular beliefs, crafting a bonsai is not an easy job. In various countries, they are treated as no less than art pieces. Obviously, for crafting a good quality art, one requires high-grade materials as well. Bonsai materials or the tree which would be pruned and shaped into a beautiful bonsai are usually collected in two ways.

The first one is to grow a bonsai material from seed or sapling. But that is a long-term process, It often takes a few decades to a few generations to fully grow a tree into a quality bonsai. They are uncommon, not rare (if you‟re talking about real bonsai), but definitely not well suited for mass production or commercial sell. They are like paintings of some mastered artists, which have been made slowly over decades and ages.

The other way is called Yamadori, which is to collect a grown tree from the wild. It is sometimes expensive but easy. They are not regarded as rare and unique as a seed grown bonsai, but still, they are considered worthy enough and sold at high prices. It depends on the end result and the artistry of the master. There are people well suited to conduct these jobs. They collect and sell these materials and make a living out of it. Even though Kabuto was not a regular in this job, but he had occasionally trod on this path and earned a good sum of money. Master Matsumoto preferred him for his keen eyes of collecting A-grade trees which are apt for turning into a bonsai.

Kabuto had worked for Master Matsumoto for a while, when he was younger. Even though he was into various businesses now, yet Kabuto served Matshumoto whenever he called. There was this old bond which he couldn‟t explain. Matsumoto, despite his infamous anger, dealt very well with Kabuto. These two odd people from two different social backgrounds and tastes, synced very well. Perhaps, it was because of their underlying similarities, which they both knew and realized, but never talked about.

Just like Kabuto, Matsumoto was a very crude and uncouth person. Carving deadwood since childhood perhaps had made him dead inside. He could never behave well with anybody, whether it was his wife, family, colleagues or students. There was a certain roughness in his character like the fissures of a tree bark, which made him infamous, and detested by everyone. He once beat his student to a pulp because that novice had mistakenly trimmed a branch of his work. It was only Kabuto with whom he could form this strange friendship. However, due to both their odd personalities, they had never expressed this to each other.

Having found such a good bonsai material, Kabuto felt contented that night. He was cramped inside that small tent. Whether due to excitement or too much caffeine, Kabuto was having trouble falling asleep that night. Even though he had never believed in things like fate and luck, yet it made him wonder what turn of events made them end up in that valley. Kabuto had been working a while for Matsumoto-sensei, but this time Matsumoto had strongly implied on getting an old and unique quality material. So Kabuto, along with his assistant and a few tribal workers, had ventured deep into the mountain range of the northern region. They had camped and wandered among the forest for a few days. Even though Kabuto collected a few other specimens, yet he couldn‟t find something which would stand out. Something which would be unparalleled.

They were trekking down, that was when through the slowly dissolving mist they had noticed this valley. It lay there like a shallow green bowl, garlanded by the hills. Kabuto had walked into the valley out of sheer curiosity. He had no idea that they would be able to find any good tree there. Yet, the tree was the first object in the valley which caught his attention.

Being content of his accidental discovery, Kabuto soon fell asleep. Kabuto never dreamt. He didn‟t remember whether he had ever dreamed even in his childhood. It had always been like this. It never bothered him. Sleep was for rest, not for some bizarre entertainment, but that night, he dreamed for the first time, ever.

And like any other dream, it was bizarre and surreal. But what was stranger, was that no action was happening inside his dream. Everything was still as a rock. It felt more like a photograph than a usual motioned dream.

The dream was like this, Kabuto was standing alone in the valley. Neither his assistant nor his team of workers could be seen anywhere. He was alone, standing there under the full moon. The moon was still too, right at the middle of the sky. In front of Kabuto, at a little distance, stood the tree. And that was the entire dream. Kabuto felt like he had been standing there for eternity, gazing at the motionless tree. He didn‟t move or couldn‟t move, the tree didn‟t move and the moon didn‟t move either. They simply stood there, like three points of a perfect triangle.

A few days later, when they finally brought the tree back to Matsumoto- sensei, as expected, he was overjoyed to see the tree. A very rare smile surfaced on his forever frowning face. He felt the tree with his fingers, he embraced it like a dear one. Kabuto was satisfied to see the result. It was as he had expected. Matsumoto didn‟t disappoint Kabuto either. He was paid a hefty sum for the work. It was one of those once in a blue moon events, when one has finally seen Matshumoto happy. Hence, Kabuto was paid more than he had expected.

"How much time do you think it would take to turn it into one of your masterpieces?" Kabuto asked him.

Matsumoto was observing the tree with keen eyes, "Not very long, just a little growing and pruning. That‟d be enough. You see these?" Matsumoto pointed at the naturally twisted branches. "Most of the works have already been done by the tree itself. All I need to do is to strip the trunk of almost everything, and carve deadwood with my equipment."

"How much of the trunk would you remove?"

"Most of it, almost 90%. The deadwood is where the beauty lies. Also, I need to remove most of the branches. Only the prominent ones will remain"

Kabuto was sure that in a year or two the tree would turn into something entirely different than what he had delivered. He felt proud to be a part of this masterpiece.

Sam and the workers had warned Kabuto about invoking bad luck. Kabuto hadn‟t cared anything about luck. However, something definitely had happened. His wheel of fortune turned for the better. Within years of that, Kabuto faced great profit from his business. He also made a fortune out of trading stock shares. Within a decade, Kabuto was one of the wealthiest men in the city.

It was like the Midas effect, whatever he touched, turned into gold.

He bought an expensive home. It was a big residential area. High walls had guarded the place to provide utmost privacy. The perfectly mowed green lawn surrounded the main house which was situated right in the middle. The main house looked very modern and ugly like someone had stacked two boxes one above another in a very half- hearted manner. Long trees and bamboo groves kept the main house shaded the whole day.

Kabuto decorated his house with things of fine and expensive taste. People had always treated him like pond scum, and he could never overcome this inferiority complex. Perhaps this is what impelled him to turn his home into something like an antique store. Not just the interior, he decorated his vast garden with fountains, sculptures and rare trees. Perhaps his love for trees had flourished from when he had worked for Matsumoto. He wanted to become one of those wealthy customers for whom he had collected all those trees. It wasn‟t about jealousy, but more about attaining the taste of victory in some non-existent battle.

Those artifacts were nothing more than show off, Kabuto himself never had any interest in them. He simply enjoyed when people praised his taste. It was the same for the trees in his garden. He never took a single glance towards them. It was so for a long time until he noticed the strange thing.

There was this tree which bothered him.

He hadn‟t even noticed when the tree was planted there. Whether the tree was newly planted or it had been there since the time of the previous owner. It was a simple pine tree, standing right beside the cobblestone path which had led to the door of the main residence. For countless times Kabuto had passed in front of it, but never once he found any need to take a single glance at the tree. It was such a mundane object, nothing worthy of attention or praise. He didn‟t even know why it was kept there for so long.

But something in that tree kept bothering him. He didn‟t know for sure what it was and why it was bothering him, but it kept disturbing him. Each time he passed through the front of it, or relaxing in his home, he felt like the tree kept peering at him. There was something in the tree which was vaguely familiar. He couldn‟t realize what it was, but it did remind him of something, some long- forgotten memories.

As long as he was awake and tried to think what was wrong with the tree, he couldn‟t find anything. It was only when he had fallen asleep, the memory rushed in like a flood. Kabuto never dreamed, but that night after almost a decade, he dreamed again.

And strangely, it was the same dream which he had seen many years ago, while camping in that mystical valley. In his dream, there was the strange tree which he had collected from the valley. The tree and Kabuto were facing each other. The bright moon hung at the middle of the sky, just between Kabuto and the tree. The three formed three points of a perfect triangle. Even though it was a dream, yet Kabuto was vaguely aware of the fact that it was a dream. And that was how he realized why the tree in his garden bothered him. It looked almost the same as the strange tree he had collected all those years ago for Matsumoto.

After waking up in the morning, he went to the balcony to check if the pine tree was really shaped like that. To his amazement, he found that the pine tree had indeed become just like the tree from the valley. There was the same fissured bark, the same twisted branches, and even the canopy almost looked the same. The pine tree had slowly turned into the strange tree, but bigger in size.

Kabuto couldn‟t find any explanation. Was somebody doing a prank on him? But how could that be? Among the people he knew, only two people were aware of the existence of the strange tree. They were his former assistant Sam and Matsumoto-sensei. Both of them had long left this world. Matsumoto-sensei had died of cardiac arrest a few years back. And Sam, that poor child committed suicide after returning from the trek ten years ago.

In fact, that trek was the last one when Sam had worked with Kabuto. Kabuto was never the emotional type, but today, when Sam appeared into his mind after all those years, it kind of made him feel sad. Kabuto knew that it wasn‟t his fault, yet there were these slight pangs of consciousness which kept tingling inside him. Perhaps he had pushed Sam too much into the work. Since the trek his behavior had become very unnatural, he kept mumbling by himself and became irregular at the job. Within a few weeks, he left the job. It was very disappointing to Kabuto. He had seen great potential in Sam, which couldn‟t eventually fructify. Around a month after he had left the job, Sam committed suicide.

To this day, Kabuto couldn‟t figure out what turn of events made Sam do so. Sam never seemed depressed, it didn‟t seem either that he had other problems. He was just a hard-working man with the vigor of youth. It was a mystery, perhaps Kabuto could never solve.

In fact, Kabuto hadn‟t thought about Sam for a while. People who were there, but suddenly they were gone. These long-gone people aren‟t always there, in our thoughts or minds. They remain there, but not at the center. They remain beneath the surface or behind the curtain. Occasionally, with a gust of wind, they step out, but mostly they are behind the scene, just like some background characters of a film. Maybe it was the defense mechanism made up by our minds, otherwise, we wouldn‟t have been able to go with our daily mortal lives.

That day when Sam‟s memory hit Kabuto like an unforeseen gust, Kabuto remembered some details which had been shoved under the carpet for a long while. Perhaps the details were so trivial that he didn‟t deem to keep them in mind.

Few weeks after they had returned from the trek, and Sam‟s frenzy had reached the peak. Once, Kabuto had caught Sam while he was having one of his frenzy periods. Kabuto remembered, Sam was mumbling something over and over like some sacred chant.

"We haven‟t come out... we can‟t come out... we can‟t go out...."

This strange frantic behavior of Sam had annoyed Kabuto very much. Kabuto had held Sam by the shoulders and asked him by violently shaking him, "Come out of what?! Go out of where?!"

Kabuto‟s agitation hadn‟t frightened Sam, which was very unlikely of him. Instead, Sam had stared back with his blank eyes, like he was looking at Kabuto from some other world or dream. Sam had stared back at Kabuto for quite a few seconds, and then with a very low tone, he had whispered,

"The valley...."

He had walked away after that. Now looking back, Kabuto assumed that perhaps it was the last time he had seen Sam, soon after that he had committed suicide. Just like the mystery around Sam‟s behavior and death, Kabuto could never figure out what was the meaning behind those words. What did he mean, we could not come out of the valley?

That day went by as busy as usual in his office. He had so much work done that everything regarding the tree slipped out of his mind entirely. However, it turned out to be one of the rare and fortunate days when Kabuto could return home early, and it was also one of those rarest of rare days when Kabuto could return before the sunset.

As he cut through the lawn in his usual manner, the tree came to his notice. Within a few hours, the tree seemed to have gone through some drastic transformation. Much of the foliage was gone, the branches were pressed in tight twists, deep fissures had appeared all over the trunk. It seemed strikingly similar to the strange tree of the valley, more than ever before.

Kabuto stood under the darkening sky looking at this surreal occurrence which was slowly unfolding at his home. It wasn‟t happening in some strange valley, far away from the crude touch of human civilization, but right at his own home, in the middle of the ever-bustling city.

Everything around him, the lawn, the bamboo groves, his ugly house, the trees, were painted in the same monotonous golden by the light of the setting sun. Gloom was leaking out of every corner of the place. It was a strange time of the day. It wasn‟t dark yet, but still dark enough to make you squint your eyes. As Kabuto stared at the tree, he tried to reenact the exact position which he had seen in his dream. There was the tree, there was Kabuto, facing the tree, but the moon wasn‟t there yet. It wasn‟t a triangle, but a straight line, or perhaps a loop, forming between him and the tree.

That was when Kabuto noticed it. He knew the tree seemed odd from the beginning, not because of its strange transformation or shape. There was something which it was missing from the beginning. Kabuto wasn‟t sure what it was. Now at the daybreak, when the darkness was getting more dominant around him, he finally noticed it.

The tree didn‟t have any shadow.

Kabuto tried hard to find its shadow. He encircled the tree twice. He looked closely, but all effort seemed futile. He couldn‟t trace a single patch of shadow. Perhaps, it was because of the pouring darkness. Kabuto decided to take a closer look in the morning, when his mind would be more rational and clear.

Kabuto couldn‟t accomplish any work that evening, the shadow-less tree kept wandering in his mind. He decided to retire to bed early. He was going to wake up when the first daylight broke in, and find the shadow of the tree.

As Kabuto snuggled into his blanket, he noticed that the tree was peeping from out of the window of his bedroom. Its foliage was veiling the moon behind it. Kabuto wondered if the tree had always been beside the bedroom window or not? He regretted not having paid enough attention to such details, but he knew that the tree couldn‟t walk by itself.

It was much later in the night, when Kabuto woke up. He was having trouble breathing. With great struggle, he opened his eyes. To his utter shock and disbelief, he found that he wasn‟t lying in his bed. The bed was gone, along with the whole room and everything around it. He was in a place somewhere else. Where was he? It all seemed so vaguely familiar.

Then he recognized the place. It had been so many years, that the memory had been buried under piles of dust in his mind.

He was in the valley from where he had collected the tree, years ago. It was the same place. The same hills surrounded the valley. The same white mist was suspended in the air. It was the valley which spread like a shallow bowl.

But how could it be? How could he travel thousands of miles? He must have been dreaming. That was what he thought. He tried to move around. But he couldn‟t. Something held his feet tightly. When he looked at his feet, he realized why his feet felt stuck to the ground.

Because his feet were literally stuck to the ground. To put more precisely, his feet had been replaced with roots, which stuck deep into the ground.

This bizarre scene was enough to send sheer terror through the entire body of Kabuto, but more surprises were yet to come, when he realized that he couldn‟t move his limbs either. He found that his arms and hands had been broken, and pressed into tight twists. Some fractured bones were protruding out, like some deadwood branches of a tree.

The moon had risen to the center of the sky. It was exactly like he had dreamed. The difference was that in his dream there was him, the moon and the tree. But now it was only the moon and himself. The two points of the triangle had finally converged. He had become the tree itself.

However, more than the mental shock, he was suffering excruciating physical pain. He gasped for air, he couldn‟t breathe at all. But how could he breathe? He wasn‟t a human anymore. He was a tree. At the same time, he couldn‟t die either. How could he? A tree is a living organism.

Kabuto was left there to suffer for eternity, alone, in that lone valley, under that lonely moon.