330: Kendama 🔴🪵
Daily Image created using ChatGPT (Anime AI Art)
🔴 The Cup Rim
The kendama sat on the sun-warmed deck rail where Gan had left it. Its lacquered ball rested just out of reach, tethered by a frayed white string. The afternoon light caught the rim of the larger cup, revealing the subtle wear from months of practice. Tiny chips, shallow grooves. Proof of effort. Proof of failure.
Gan didn’t play anymore. Not since the summer ended. He’d bought the kendama in June, on a whim, from a stall at the Marsaxlokk market. The vendor had smiled, said it was handmade in Japan, and that the wood would darken with use. Gan liked that. The idea that something could change just by being held.
At first, he couldn’t land a single trick. The ball would swing wide, smack the handle, and bounce off the deck. But he kept at it, every morning after breakfast, every evening after dinner. He learned its rhythm. The slight pull of the string, the angle of the wrist, the way the ball seemed to hesitate before falling into the cup. It was meditative. Ritualistic.
By August, he could spike the tama clean. He even filmed a few tricks and posted them online. But the joy wasn’t in the performance. It was in the quiet repetition. The way the kendama fits his hand. The way the wood warmed under the sun. September swept by quickly, and it was soon back to another frenetic year of college.
Gan stopped playing. The kendama stayed on the rail, untouched. He told himself it was childish. That he didn’t have time, but really, he couldn’t bear the sound of the ball missing the cup. It felt like a reminder that some things don’t land, no matter how many times you try. Each miss echoed the restless pace of the new semester’s lectures and deadlines.
Now, in late November, the light was low and golden. The kendama gleamed, almost beckoning. Gan stepped outside. Picked it up. The wood was cool. Familiar. He held the tama in one hand, the ken in the other. Breathed in, pulled gently. The ball arced, spun, and just barely landed in the cup. He smiled because it was enough.
