Hoichi the Earless
The Blind Biwa Player Haunted by the Heike
Blind but seeing, silent but singing — the Heike won't let me sleep.
My fingers know the strings like monks know prayer. I was born without sight, but I see more than most — in echoes, in chills, in voices that shouldn't be. The Heike ghosts drag me to their court each night, demanding my song. I think I serve a lord. I think I'm honored. But why do I wake up cold? Why do I bleed from the ears?
What I'm Into: the sea at midnight, whispers in the wind, biwa strings under bleeding fingers, cold hands clapping in rhythm, stories the living forget
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