The morning was barely newborn when Shiro set off for Hoshara.
Taro had no thoughts of waking up. But his mother's voice changed that quickly.
"Taro! Take your sisters to school!"
Taro groaned at the ceiling as his eyes fluttered open.
Nene. She was thirteen.
Why couldn't she walk with seven-year-old Sakue?
The ceiling didn't seem to care.
Taro muttered to himself as he sat up, flinging his blanket off the bed.
At least he didn't have a younger brother, or he'd have to share a room like his sisters did.
The wooden floor was cold beneath his bare feet. Taro danced for a moment while he pulled on his stockings and tucked them into his leggings.
"Taaa–roo!"
Sakue's voice. She was outside his door.
"Khur!" Taro hissed–then clapped his hand over his mouth.
His sister's shoes slammed on the stairs as she ran down to the shop.
"Mommy, Taro said something ugly!"
Sighing, Taro pulled an extra shirt over his longsleeved undershirt, gulped a giant sip of water, and headed for the door.
Nene was standing just outside. Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down–she was already fully dressed for the school day.
"No mask," she observed.
Taro scowled. "Who car–"
"Not me!"
Nene was on her way down the stairs. Taro followed her quickly.
His mother handed him a bun once he reached the shop. "Watch your mouth," she warned distractedly. "Also, don't forget your mask."
Taro bit his lip. "Mom–"
"You're a man now, Taro." She took a moment to lock eyes with him. "And a warrior."
"In training," Taro mumbled as he headed back towards the stairs.
"A warrior born!" she called after him.
He caught his breath. Why was she shouting that?
Whatever. She was his mother, after all.
Or she had been for years now.
Still grumbling, Taro found his mask on his dresser and pulled it on, taking a bite of the bun before his mouth was off limits.
He had to fight a laugh. Warriors didn't eat in the streets like boys did.
Well, his mother meant well, anyway.
He met his sisters in the street. Rather, he met Sakue. Nene was already out of sight.
"What are you going to do today?" Sakue asked through a mouthful of bread as she slipped her free hand into Taro's.
He hesitated for a moment before his own fingers tightened around hers. "Training, I guess."
"Silly Taro. You're already the best." Sakue frowned. "Why don't you–"
"Someday I will." Taro shrugged. "But not…not yet."
Her frown only deepened. "Why don't you use your sword?"
"Huh?" he started.
"Your sword." She took another bite–loudly. "Daddy says it's yours and that's why I can't touch it."
Taro grimaced.
"I'm not ready yet, I guess."
"Yeah, right." She jerked her hand out of his to grab at a butterfly–and miss.
Annoyed, she turned back to her brother. "You wear the mask. Why aren't you ready?"
Taro shook his head.
There was no way to explain to her.
He was grateful when they got to the small school building some minutes later and he could tell her goodbye.
"Make sure you come back after school," Sakue warned as she shoved the rest of the bun into her mouth.
"Why don't you come home with Nene?" he asked dryly.
"Nene doesn't want to walk with me," the younger girl sulked.
Taro's eyes narrowed as he turned around and began to walk back to the bakery.
"Too bad," he muttered.
His thoughts were busy as he made his way home. How much did Sakue know?
Taro was pretty sure Nene knew everything. The girl was smart. But Sakue…
Sakue talked too much.
Taro studied the sky as he walked. It had partially clouded over–maybe there would be rain later. He'd better train sooner today, then.
Train for what?
The mask felt tight around his jaw, like it didn't belong there.
Of course it didn't. No Karun heir had ever worn the warrior's mask.
But a warrior was all he was now.
If he was even that.
~~~
Shiro didn't like the looks of the sky. Rain during a horseback ride was never pleasant.
Still, duty was duty.
He had reached the forest line now. His senses alert, he urged his horse to greater speeds.
A visit from the rakhai would only delay him.
Then again, his message wasn't that urgent.
But it was still a message.
Now, however, after some minutes of galloping, his horse was growing tired. Reluctantly, Shiro loosened his grip on the reins.
The leaves crackled beneath the hooves. Shiro sniffed the air.
It was definitely going to rain.
Somewhere nearby, a branch creaked. His eyes followed the sound.
"Hm."
Leaves rustled, but there was no wind to rustle them.
Shiro pulled in the reins. His horse's hooves scraped the ground for a moment before the animal stood still, snorting loudly and shaking its head.
"Shh." Shiro leaned forward, running his good hand through the mane for a moment. His eyes were still fixed on the tree.
There it was. A scrap of cloth.
A cloak?
Or perhaps a sleeve.
He couldn't tell.
Shiro tightened his fingers around the reins again as he waited.
He couldn't shoot at the stalker. He didn't need to.
For now, Shiro was only here to observe.
"You're alone," the girl's voice hummed.
Shiro continued to watch the tree, but he didn't answer.
"You're going to the castle, aren't you?"
His eyebrows raised slightly. Bold of her to assume.
"I'm going wherever your message demands, Lady Eishi."
Silence.
The scrap of fabric moved. Except Shiro thought it looked more like a scabbard than a cloak.
"Perfect. That's the castle."
She laughed. She actually laughed.
"Very kind of you to carry my messages…both of them."
He smiled slightly. "Enough talk, rahkai. What insult is it now?"
A branch sprang back into place. The answer came from another tree.
"Not an insult, actually. I'd just like you to tell the tyrant–okay, I guess that's an insult–that time is up."
Another laugh–softer, this time.
"Maybe that's an insult, too. I don't know."
Shiro blinked. The girl talked way too much–and threatened more.
But something about her voice bothered him.
"Alright. Is that all?"
"That's all."
Shiro started his horse forward–slowly. As he passed the second tree, he scanned the foliage carefully.
A single wisp of red floated into view. Then it was gone again.
His mouth dropped open as he urged his horse into a gallop.
She…
He had seen that hair before. Heard the voice, too–and not in the forest.
Kishi Eishi. She hadn't corrected his use of the name…
So.
It really was her.
And she had been in Norema–yesterday.
His horse's hooves pounded the ground. Shiro leaned into the mane.
Well, he had half of the information the King was waiting for.
Surely Valoren Yazawa would be able to procure the rest.
~~~
Kishi's eyes widened as the soldier's horse galloped away.
Someone was in a hurry, apparently.
Yawning, she slipped down the tree more carefully than she had the day before. No need to tear her new leggings.
A smile played across her face as she recounted her message.
"Time is up."
Kishi didn't know what time was up for.
But that meant the Hosharan King wouldn't know, either.
Lovely.
Still, Kishi didn't like the fact that the soldier had used her name. It didn't mean anything, of course; everyone knew the forest rumors were about Seiryo Eishi's daughter and that his daughter's name was Kishi.
And yet, no one had addressed her with it before.
Her hair was loose, she realized. Pushing back her hood, she tucked it back in.
A raindrop fell on her hand. She glanced at it for a moment, her hair still entwined in her fingers.
Long. It was way too long for a warrior.
But…
Scowling, Kishi struck out towards her grove. She hadn't planned to wake up this early, and she definitely wouldn't have if she'd known it was going to be a miserable day. But sometimes the Hosharan scouts didn't wait for decent hours.
One of the twin blades caught on a fallen trunk. Kishi jerked around to see what the problem was, then sighed.
Those swords. Why did she carry them everywhere except the villages?
Maybe she was afraid of losing them.
Well, she should be. They were almost legendary, after all.
Kishi reached for the left hilt thoughtfully, drawing the blade. It was about three feet long, but still heavy for its size. She knew each blade was about as heavy as a longsword would have been. Her father had told her that.
Now she turned the blade slightly, smiling at her reflection.
A single raindrop kissed the steel. Suddenly Kishi swung it through the air, leaping aside as the branch above her cracked and then tumbled to the ground.
The steel was unnotched. Kishi wiped it carefully with the edge of her cloak, then slid it back into the sheath.
She would have to get some practice in later. It wouldn't do for her to let her stamina creep away on everyday errands.
Not now, when she had to cling underneath carts just to get out of a village, apparently.