Eileen's 2020 Countdown Thread
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WAITING FOR THE SNOW – 011219
Rin crouched in the shadows of the forest. A soft carpet of needles spread out beneath her feet, and the clean, pleasant scent of pine filled her nostrils. She scanned the wall, tracking the movements of the soldiers atop the defensive structure with her sharp eyes.
“How much longer?” Emiko asked for the third time. The chattering of the little girl’s teeth was audible even above the howling winds ripping through the valley. She shivered in her thin silk kimono, hugging her arms tighter. The ornamental cherry blossoms dangling from the kanzashi in her elaborately styled hair tinkled faintly.
“Soon,” Rin answered, cursing her conscience for dragging her into this mess.
She wasn’t good with children, which was hardly surprising given her upbringing. Rin’s childhood had consisted of combat drills, weapons training, and merciless tests of strength and endurance. The world princess Emiko existed in – a world of dolls, dancing, and playing games - was alien to her.
Closing her eyes, Rin allowed her mind to fly forward in time. She didn’t have to travel far; the event she was waiting for was mere moments away. It was the only path which lead to a successful escape from the city. Rin never agreed to jobs where she only saw one path. Too risky. Yet here she was, preparing to gamble her life to save this weak, frightened child, and because of what? A vision.
The wind began to intensify. Rin adjusted her sword so it lay flat between her shoulder blades. “Get ready.”
Emiko nodded, gathering up the folds of her dress. Her lips were blue, the icy shade even more alarming on her porcelain skin. On cue, snow began to fall.
Rin crouched in the shadows of the forest. A soft carpet of needles spread out beneath her feet, and the clean, pleasant scent of pine filled her nostrils. She scanned the wall, tracking the movements of the soldiers atop the defensive structure with her sharp eyes.
“How much longer?” Emiko asked for the third time. The chattering of the little girl’s teeth was audible even above the howling winds ripping through the valley. She shivered in her thin silk kimono, hugging her arms tighter. The ornamental cherry blossoms dangling from the kanzashi in her elaborately styled hair tinkled faintly.
“Soon,” Rin answered, cursing her conscience for dragging her into this mess.
She wasn’t good with children, which was hardly surprising given her upbringing. Rin’s childhood had consisted of combat drills, weapons training, and merciless tests of strength and endurance. The world princess Emiko existed in – a world of dolls, dancing, and playing games - was alien to her.
Closing her eyes, Rin allowed her mind to fly forward in time. She didn’t have to travel far; the event she was waiting for was mere moments away. It was the only path which lead to a successful escape from the city. Rin never agreed to jobs where she only saw one path. Too risky. Yet here she was, preparing to gamble her life to save this weak, frightened child, and because of what? A vision.
The wind began to intensify. Rin adjusted her sword so it lay flat between her shoulder blades. “Get ready.”
Emiko nodded, gathering up the folds of her dress. Her lips were blue, the icy shade even more alarming on her porcelain skin. On cue, snow began to fall.
Funnily enough this prompt is already included in my first piece. I'm taking it as a sign to continue the story.
***
THE HOWLING WIND – 021219
Snow blanketed the mountain, reducing visibility and concealing their tracks from the soldiers who were inevitably following them. However, the snow created a new problem.
Rin had dressed for the conditions; her knee length boots were lined with fur and she wore a thick, woolen tunic beneath her leathers. Emiko, on the other hand, was ill-prepared for the harsh weather of the mountains. The wind tore at her flimsy clothes. Her kimono was designed for tea ceremonies at the palace, not fleeing through the wilderness. Worse still were her shoes. The lacquered sandals didn’t even cover the toes of her socks, let alone provide any warmth. If Rin didn’t find shelter soon, the cold would kill her before the soldiers did.
Emiko cried out as she tripped on an exposed tree root. She landed hard on her knees, prompting tears to roll down her wind-burnt cheeks.
“No time for tears, princess,” Rin said, pulling Emiko to her feet. “We have to keep going.”
“M-my knee hu-hurts,” Emiko hiccupped between sobs.
Rin clenched her jaw. They were moving too slowly. A deer with two broken legs would set a faster pace. Patience, Rin reminded herself. She’s just a child. “I know it hurts. Shall I carry you for a little while?”
Emiko looked up, her brown eyes pleading. “Yes please.”
Rin uncoiled the rope she carried across her torso, fashioning a crude harness for the child. She slipped the makeshift harness over Emiko’s waist, then bent over her.
“Hold onto my neck,” she instructed.
Emiko did as she was told, resting her cheek against Rin’s chest as she clung on. Rin tied another loop of rope around them both, securing it with a quick release knot in case of a fight. Bound together in this manner, they set a moderately better pace than a deer with only one broken leg. It couldn’t be helped. Although Emiko didn’t weigh much, the awkwardness of carrying a child strapped to her chest shortened Rin’s stride. Rin lamented their lack of progress. Even with the storm the soldiers would catch up to them in an hour, maybe less.
Why the princess had been so heavily guarded remained a mystery. Emperor Kazan was a virile man who had fathered over twenty children between his wife and fourteen concubines. Of the fourteen concubines, Emiko’s mother had been the lowest ranking and died not long after giving birth. Then there was the fact Emiko was a girl, and therefore not a potential heir to the Jade Throne. Yet the emperor kept her in a remote palace, dedicating half the imperial guard and fifty of his best soldiers to protecting the least important of his offspring. It made no sense.
Rin was still turning the puzzle over in her mind when her keen ears detected the distant sound of pursuit. They were faster than she’d anticipated. Two options were available to her: continue downhill towards the river; or take the narrow pass between the two mountain peaks. Both had their risks. The river was the most effective escape route, but also the most obvious; Rin was certain the soldiers would have planned an ambush downstream. The soldiers wouldn’t expect them to take the pass, but this was due to its reputation for landslides; Rin and Emiko might choose the pass only to find themselves trapped by debris. Of course there was a third option, but she refused to even consider leaving the girl behind.
“What’s wrong?” Emiko asked, her voice muffled by the fur lining Rin’s collar.
Rin debated lying, or giving false reassurances that everything would be fine, but decided against it. “The soldiers. They’re going to catch up to us.”
“Oh.” Emiko fell silent. Rin was still weighing up their options when Emiko spoke again, “Do you want me to slow them down?”
Her thoughts froze. “What?”
“I can help,” Emiko insisted.
Rin didn’t have time for whatever childish plan Emiko had in mind. “That’s very kind, princess, but I doubt–”
“Can you untie me? I need my hands.”
Rin sighed. The rope was digging into her shoulders, even through her layers of clothing. A brief rest would restore her energy and placate the child. “All right.”
She tugged the knot securing the rope free, lowering Emiko to the ground. Blood returned to her arms as the pressure on her shoulders lifted. Satisfied, Emiko began drawing intricate patterns in the air with her fingers. It was almost like a dance. Rin watched for a moment before turning away to focus on the choice before her. River or pass? Which will it be? She was confident she could take on twenty soldiers, but what if the emperor sent all one hundred of them? What then?
From a defensive standpoint the pass was a better choice. The trail was the width of a cart most of the way through, meaning they couldn’t fight more than four abreast, and the steep cliffs rising on either side would prevent them from flanking her. Yes. It would have to be the pass. With a bit of luck they might find a cave to hide in and wait out the storm.
Rin turned around, ready to tell Emiko it was time to leave, when she saw the girl’s eyes. White clouds swirled where her irises should have been – the sign of a Tensai using their gift. Rin’s eyes looked the same whenever she peered into the future. The wind, which had been howling before, increased in strength until it was a deafening roar. Then Emiko raised her hands.
There was an ear-splitting crack as the forest behind them exploded. Trees thicker than the palace walls were plucked from the ground as if they were no more than flowers. Dirt and splinters rained down. Rin gaped; never in any of the texts she’d studied had there been mention of a Tensai with so much raw power, let alone one who was a six-year-old girl. Controlling the elements like this was unheard of. Unthinkable. Emiko flicked her fingers. Rin heard screams as the trunks crashed to the ground, forming an impenetrable wall of devastation behind them.
Lowering her hands, Emiko smiled up at Rin. “See? I told you I could help.”
***
THE HOWLING WIND – 021219
Snow blanketed the mountain, reducing visibility and concealing their tracks from the soldiers who were inevitably following them. However, the snow created a new problem.
Rin had dressed for the conditions; her knee length boots were lined with fur and she wore a thick, woolen tunic beneath her leathers. Emiko, on the other hand, was ill-prepared for the harsh weather of the mountains. The wind tore at her flimsy clothes. Her kimono was designed for tea ceremonies at the palace, not fleeing through the wilderness. Worse still were her shoes. The lacquered sandals didn’t even cover the toes of her socks, let alone provide any warmth. If Rin didn’t find shelter soon, the cold would kill her before the soldiers did.
Emiko cried out as she tripped on an exposed tree root. She landed hard on her knees, prompting tears to roll down her wind-burnt cheeks.
“No time for tears, princess,” Rin said, pulling Emiko to her feet. “We have to keep going.”
“M-my knee hu-hurts,” Emiko hiccupped between sobs.
Rin clenched her jaw. They were moving too slowly. A deer with two broken legs would set a faster pace. Patience, Rin reminded herself. She’s just a child. “I know it hurts. Shall I carry you for a little while?”
Emiko looked up, her brown eyes pleading. “Yes please.”
Rin uncoiled the rope she carried across her torso, fashioning a crude harness for the child. She slipped the makeshift harness over Emiko’s waist, then bent over her.
“Hold onto my neck,” she instructed.
Emiko did as she was told, resting her cheek against Rin’s chest as she clung on. Rin tied another loop of rope around them both, securing it with a quick release knot in case of a fight. Bound together in this manner, they set a moderately better pace than a deer with only one broken leg. It couldn’t be helped. Although Emiko didn’t weigh much, the awkwardness of carrying a child strapped to her chest shortened Rin’s stride. Rin lamented their lack of progress. Even with the storm the soldiers would catch up to them in an hour, maybe less.
Why the princess had been so heavily guarded remained a mystery. Emperor Kazan was a virile man who had fathered over twenty children between his wife and fourteen concubines. Of the fourteen concubines, Emiko’s mother had been the lowest ranking and died not long after giving birth. Then there was the fact Emiko was a girl, and therefore not a potential heir to the Jade Throne. Yet the emperor kept her in a remote palace, dedicating half the imperial guard and fifty of his best soldiers to protecting the least important of his offspring. It made no sense.
Rin was still turning the puzzle over in her mind when her keen ears detected the distant sound of pursuit. They were faster than she’d anticipated. Two options were available to her: continue downhill towards the river; or take the narrow pass between the two mountain peaks. Both had their risks. The river was the most effective escape route, but also the most obvious; Rin was certain the soldiers would have planned an ambush downstream. The soldiers wouldn’t expect them to take the pass, but this was due to its reputation for landslides; Rin and Emiko might choose the pass only to find themselves trapped by debris. Of course there was a third option, but she refused to even consider leaving the girl behind.
Rin searched the future for an answer, but for the first time the path was unclear. It was as though the events were undecided, like a decision was yet to be made. Rin frowned. Her gift had never failed her before. She concentrated harder, trying to see beyond the grey fog obscuring her mind, but it was like swatting at smoke. The sound of clanking armour grew louder. She needed to choose fast.
“What’s wrong?” Emiko asked, her voice muffled by the fur lining Rin’s collar.
Rin debated lying, or giving false reassurances that everything would be fine, but decided against it. “The soldiers. They’re going to catch up to us.”
“Oh.” Emiko fell silent. Rin was still weighing up their options when Emiko spoke again, “Do you want me to slow them down?”
Her thoughts froze. “What?”
“I can help,” Emiko insisted.
Rin didn’t have time for whatever childish plan Emiko had in mind. “That’s very kind, princess, but I doubt–”
“Can you untie me? I need my hands.”
Rin sighed. The rope was digging into her shoulders, even through her layers of clothing. A brief rest would restore her energy and placate the child. “All right.”
She tugged the knot securing the rope free, lowering Emiko to the ground. Blood returned to her arms as the pressure on her shoulders lifted. Satisfied, Emiko began drawing intricate patterns in the air with her fingers. It was almost like a dance. Rin watched for a moment before turning away to focus on the choice before her. River or pass? Which will it be? She was confident she could take on twenty soldiers, but what if the emperor sent all one hundred of them? What then?
From a defensive standpoint the pass was a better choice. The trail was the width of a cart most of the way through, meaning they couldn’t fight more than four abreast, and the steep cliffs rising on either side would prevent them from flanking her. Yes. It would have to be the pass. With a bit of luck they might find a cave to hide in and wait out the storm.
Rin turned around, ready to tell Emiko it was time to leave, when she saw the girl’s eyes. White clouds swirled where her irises should have been – the sign of a Tensai using their gift. Rin’s eyes looked the same whenever she peered into the future. The wind, which had been howling before, increased in strength until it was a deafening roar. Then Emiko raised her hands.
There was an ear-splitting crack as the forest behind them exploded. Trees thicker than the palace walls were plucked from the ground as if they were no more than flowers. Dirt and splinters rained down. Rin gaped; never in any of the texts she’d studied had there been mention of a Tensai with so much raw power, let alone one who was a six-year-old girl. Controlling the elements like this was unheard of. Unthinkable. Emiko flicked her fingers. Rin heard screams as the trunks crashed to the ground, forming an impenetrable wall of devastation behind them.
Lowering her hands, Emiko smiled up at Rin. “See? I told you I could help.”
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Apparently I'm writing a new novel now. Thanks a lot FFC lol.
***
THE FIRST SNOW - 031219
Jiro swore under his breath as the first snow of winter enveloped the forest in white, obscuring the tracks of his quarry. They’d been easy enough to follow. Emiko moved clumsily in her court attire; the stumbling footprints made for an easy trail, and Jiro had confidently lead his troop of twenty soldiers. But the freshly fallen snow made his task a lot trickier. He had to rely on subtler signs of their passing: a branch brushed aside; a strand of hair snagged on a bush. It tested his skill at tracking game in the wilderness to its fullest extent.
How had Emiko’s kidnapper known it would snow? The timing of their escape from the palace was too precise to be mere coincidence. Jiro knew there was a strong possibility the kidnapper was a Tensai, although he couldn’t be certain what their geijyu-tsu was. No two arts were completely alike. He knew of several arts which might give a Tensai the ability to sense oncoming snow, but to predict it with such accuracy?
There was also the escape itself to consider. The kidnapper had known exactly when to make their move in order to carry out their mission undetected. Initially, Jiro assumed the kidnapper was operating as part of a larger team. But he’d found only one other set of footprints apart from Emiko’s. His other theory of a spy within the palace also made no sense, as he made a point of changing the guards’ routine without warning during each shift.
“My prince?” Masaru, his hulking second-in-command, approached. “I sent five of our men to the bridge as you instructed. If they flee south along the river we’ll be waiting for them.”
“Good,” Jiro nodded. “Take six men and continue scouting east towards the river. I’ll take the rest and head north to the mountain pass. Send a messenger if you find them, and engage with caution. We don’t know what this kidnapper is capable of.”
“As you command.” Masaru bowed before leaving to carry out his duty.
Jiro pressed on with his diminished team. The men hung back, maintaining a healthy gap between themselves and their commander. Not that Jiro blamed them; he would’ve felt the same in their shoes. Although his father, the emperor, had taken steps to prevent Jiro’s geijyu-tsu from becoming common knowledge, the palace staff still whispered amongst themselves. It didn’t matter that Jiro vehemently refused to use his art - much to his father’s chagrin. His men still feared him. Even his own brothers and sisters avoided speaking to him unless forced, with the exception of Emiko. In truth, Jiro had welcomed being exiled to the mountain palace. At least he didn’t have to deal with seeing their frightened faces anymore.
The forest thinned, revealing a blank expanse of white stretching out before him. Not a single footprint was visible on the pristine snow, and the lack of vegetation rendered his other tracking methods useless. Jiro removed his hood, surveying the hostile landscape for some clue of their passing. There was none.
He was preparing to turn back, join up with his men, when the wind punched into him like a fist. Jiro was hurled to the ground. Trees were ripped from the earth behind him, lifted by an unseen hand. Jiro flung his arms over his head as he was showered in rocks and debris. Emiko. He had witnessed her using her power before, but not like this. Never like this.
The shouts of his men could barely be heard above the sound of snapping timber. He knew Emiko wouldn’t hurt them intentionally, but he didn’t think she’d attempted anything of this scale before. How much control could a six-year-old have over such a tremendous power? The trees crashed to the ground with the same violence that had lifted them. The impact vibrated through him, shaking some of the dirt and pebbles loose from his hair. Then just like that, the wind vanished, leaving behind an eerie stillness.
Jiro lay panting in the snow, reeling from the intensity of the attack. Attack. Was that what it was? Had Emiko attacked them? And if so, why? Staggering to his feet, Jiro stared in awe at the carnage. The destruction formed a barrier, cutting him off from the rest of his men who were no doubt fleeing for their lives - assuming they’d survived. It would take a day, possibly two, to navigate around the mess. If Jiro abandoned the search now he may never catch up to them.
Jiro tore a strip from the hem of his woolen cloak, skewering it on the branch of a fallen tree. The red cloth flapped in the arctic breeze. Masaru would insist they look for him, and the cloth would let them know he was alive. Tugging his hood up, Jiro set off for the mountain pass.
***
THE FIRST SNOW - 031219
Jiro swore under his breath as the first snow of winter enveloped the forest in white, obscuring the tracks of his quarry. They’d been easy enough to follow. Emiko moved clumsily in her court attire; the stumbling footprints made for an easy trail, and Jiro had confidently lead his troop of twenty soldiers. But the freshly fallen snow made his task a lot trickier. He had to rely on subtler signs of their passing: a branch brushed aside; a strand of hair snagged on a bush. It tested his skill at tracking game in the wilderness to its fullest extent.
How had Emiko’s kidnapper known it would snow? The timing of their escape from the palace was too precise to be mere coincidence. Jiro knew there was a strong possibility the kidnapper was a Tensai, although he couldn’t be certain what their geijyu-tsu was. No two arts were completely alike. He knew of several arts which might give a Tensai the ability to sense oncoming snow, but to predict it with such accuracy?
There was also the escape itself to consider. The kidnapper had known exactly when to make their move in order to carry out their mission undetected. Initially, Jiro assumed the kidnapper was operating as part of a larger team. But he’d found only one other set of footprints apart from Emiko’s. His other theory of a spy within the palace also made no sense, as he made a point of changing the guards’ routine without warning during each shift.
“My prince?” Masaru, his hulking second-in-command, approached. “I sent five of our men to the bridge as you instructed. If they flee south along the river we’ll be waiting for them.”
“Good,” Jiro nodded. “Take six men and continue scouting east towards the river. I’ll take the rest and head north to the mountain pass. Send a messenger if you find them, and engage with caution. We don’t know what this kidnapper is capable of.”
“As you command.” Masaru bowed before leaving to carry out his duty.
Jiro pressed on with his diminished team. The men hung back, maintaining a healthy gap between themselves and their commander. Not that Jiro blamed them; he would’ve felt the same in their shoes. Although his father, the emperor, had taken steps to prevent Jiro’s geijyu-tsu from becoming common knowledge, the palace staff still whispered amongst themselves. It didn’t matter that Jiro vehemently refused to use his art - much to his father’s chagrin. His men still feared him. Even his own brothers and sisters avoided speaking to him unless forced, with the exception of Emiko. In truth, Jiro had welcomed being exiled to the mountain palace. At least he didn’t have to deal with seeing their frightened faces anymore.
The forest thinned, revealing a blank expanse of white stretching out before him. Not a single footprint was visible on the pristine snow, and the lack of vegetation rendered his other tracking methods useless. Jiro removed his hood, surveying the hostile landscape for some clue of their passing. There was none.
He was preparing to turn back, join up with his men, when the wind punched into him like a fist. Jiro was hurled to the ground. Trees were ripped from the earth behind him, lifted by an unseen hand. Jiro flung his arms over his head as he was showered in rocks and debris. Emiko. He had witnessed her using her power before, but not like this. Never like this.
The shouts of his men could barely be heard above the sound of snapping timber. He knew Emiko wouldn’t hurt them intentionally, but he didn’t think she’d attempted anything of this scale before. How much control could a six-year-old have over such a tremendous power? The trees crashed to the ground with the same violence that had lifted them. The impact vibrated through him, shaking some of the dirt and pebbles loose from his hair. Then just like that, the wind vanished, leaving behind an eerie stillness.
Jiro lay panting in the snow, reeling from the intensity of the attack. Attack. Was that what it was? Had Emiko attacked them? And if so, why? Staggering to his feet, Jiro stared in awe at the carnage. The destruction formed a barrier, cutting him off from the rest of his men who were no doubt fleeing for their lives - assuming they’d survived. It would take a day, possibly two, to navigate around the mess. If Jiro abandoned the search now he may never catch up to them.
Jiro tore a strip from the hem of his woolen cloak, skewering it on the branch of a fallen tree. The red cloth flapped in the arctic breeze. Masaru would insist they look for him, and the cloth would let them know he was alive. Tugging his hood up, Jiro set off for the mountain pass.
I know it's ~technically~ not a boot, but I worked with what I had.
***
ONE LOST BOOT - 041219
It took a day and a half to reach the mountain pass. The wind abated, but the snow continued to fall steadily. With every hour the layer of white grew thicker, eventually reaching Jiro’s thighs. Walking became a constant battle. Jiro had left the palace in haste, taking only a light pack and three days’ worth of rations with him. Without snowshoes, Jiro had to shove his way through the drifts which was like wading against a strong current. The muscles in his legs burned from the effort. At least he didn’t have to worry about frostbite.
Jiro had walked through the night, pausing only to melt snow and consume his meager rations. Desperation fueled him and the idea of turning back was unimaginable. Now, as fatigue crept in, doubt began gnawing at his resolve. Perhaps he should send a contingent of men on horseback to try cutting them off at the border instead. Perhaps the kidnapper had escaped via the river instead and this was all a waste of time. There were arguments for and against the actions he’d chosen, but at the time he’d believed this was the most sensible course.
Jiro was close to admitting defeat when he spotted something half buried in a drift. He slogged over to it, ignoring his thighs screams of protest. His spirits lifted when he identified the object: a lacquered sandal, the sole decorated with a whimsical painting of cherry blossoms – Emiko’s favourite. They’d come this way. The knowledge gave him renewed hope.
***
ONE LOST BOOT - 041219
It took a day and a half to reach the mountain pass. The wind abated, but the snow continued to fall steadily. With every hour the layer of white grew thicker, eventually reaching Jiro’s thighs. Walking became a constant battle. Jiro had left the palace in haste, taking only a light pack and three days’ worth of rations with him. Without snowshoes, Jiro had to shove his way through the drifts which was like wading against a strong current. The muscles in his legs burned from the effort. At least he didn’t have to worry about frostbite.
Jiro had walked through the night, pausing only to melt snow and consume his meager rations. Desperation fueled him and the idea of turning back was unimaginable. Now, as fatigue crept in, doubt began gnawing at his resolve. Perhaps he should send a contingent of men on horseback to try cutting them off at the border instead. Perhaps the kidnapper had escaped via the river instead and this was all a waste of time. There were arguments for and against the actions he’d chosen, but at the time he’d believed this was the most sensible course.
Jiro was close to admitting defeat when he spotted something half buried in a drift. He slogged over to it, ignoring his thighs screams of protest. His spirits lifted when he identified the object: a lacquered sandal, the sole decorated with a whimsical painting of cherry blossoms – Emiko’s favourite. They’d come this way. The knowledge gave him renewed hope.
WHEN YOUR SOCKS ARE WARM - 051219
Daylight was fading when Rin arrived at the hut with a half frozen Emiko still strapped to her chest. The child had started slipping in and out of consciousness after midday. Every time Emiko’s head lolled Rin shook her awake, but the girl was clearly exhausted. Using the art had drained her. Whatever energy she had left was leeched away by the cold, and Rin’s efforts to rub warmth back into her feet and hands barely kept the frostbite at bay. Without the assurance her art provided that they would find shelter before nightfall, Rin would have succumbed to despair hour ago.
The hut was modest, but built to withstand even the most vicious of storms. It was basically a pit dug into the earth, with timber support beams and a packed dirt floor. A conical roof thatched with thick layers of kaya grass provided insulation against the cold. Depositing Emiko on a threadbare rug beside the central hearth, Rin set to work. She stripped off Emiko’s useless court clothes, bundling her in blankets. The child murmured, but didn’t stir. Helping herself to the stack of wood piled by the door, she built a fire in the hearth.
When the wood was crackling merrily, Rin took an inventory of the supplies inside the hut. She was pleased to find rope, two pairs of snowshoes, a longbow and quiver with twelve arrows, a rusty but serviceable hunting knife, dried food, and several items of winter clothing. The jacket and boots were made for an adult, but with a few modifications they’d fit Emiko. The socks were an unexpected boon. Pure wool spun with some sort of fur - possibly fox judging by the reddish tint.
Rin laid the socks out near the fire to warm them, then began hacking apart the clothing. She was a poor seamstress. Stitching a wound was very different to sewing a garment. Pieces which had joined together perfectly before didn’t seem to remember each other after they’d been separated. Frustrated, she threw the pieces on the floor with a huff.
“Rin?” The pile of blankets by the fire shifted.
“I’m right here, princess,” Rin answered, abandoning her pitiful attempt at sewing and moving to the rug beside Emiko. The little girl peered up at her from the woolen folds like a baby bird inside a nest. Hard to believe something so small could wield such immense power. “Are you feeling warmer?”
Emiko nodded. “Yes, but my feet are still cold.”
The corners of Rin’s lips lifted in an indulgent smile. “I have just the thing.”
She retrieved the socks – which were now pleasantly warm – from the floor near the hearth. Unwrapping the blankets from around Emiko’s legs, she pulled the socks over the child’s icy feet.
“Oh,” Emiko whimpered. “That feels good.”
Rin tucked the blankets around her legs again and reluctantly returned to her sewing. She assumed Emiko would fall back to sleep, so she was surprised a few minutes later when the child spoke up. “You’re doing it wrong.”
“Pardon?”
Emiko wormed her way closer to where Rin was sitting. “The sleeve is on upside down. See?”
Rin did not. “How can you tell? Both ends look the same.”
Emiko sighed as if the answer was painfully obvious, then held out her hand. Scowling, Rin handed her the pieces of fabric. “This end here has a curve – that’s for the shoulder – and this end doesn’t. Have you never made clothing before?”
Rin folded her arms. She didn’t appreciate being chastened by a six-year-old. “Sewing pretty dresses wasn’t an essential part of my training for the emperor’s service, princess.”
Her curt reply was supposed to put an end to the conversation, but Emiko’s mind was quicker than she realized. “You served my father?”
Memories Rin had tried to suppress swam to the surface; memories of blood and killing and doing as the emperor bid without question. “Yes.”
“What’s he like?”
Rin hesitated. It was natural, of course, that the child wanted to know more about the man who had fathered her, but how could she tell her Emperor Kazan was a monster? That when Rin had confided to him the details of the vision she’d had – of a girl in a cherry blossom kimono holding a sword, a mirror, and a jewel – he’d sent her on a mission to kill Emiko?
“The emperor…” she faltered. “You have the same nose.”
“Really?” Emiko touched her own nose, as if doing so brought her closer to her father.
A strange ache tugged at Rin’s heart. “Yes.”
Daylight was fading when Rin arrived at the hut with a half frozen Emiko still strapped to her chest. The child had started slipping in and out of consciousness after midday. Every time Emiko’s head lolled Rin shook her awake, but the girl was clearly exhausted. Using the art had drained her. Whatever energy she had left was leeched away by the cold, and Rin’s efforts to rub warmth back into her feet and hands barely kept the frostbite at bay. Without the assurance her art provided that they would find shelter before nightfall, Rin would have succumbed to despair hour ago.
The hut was modest, but built to withstand even the most vicious of storms. It was basically a pit dug into the earth, with timber support beams and a packed dirt floor. A conical roof thatched with thick layers of kaya grass provided insulation against the cold. Depositing Emiko on a threadbare rug beside the central hearth, Rin set to work. She stripped off Emiko’s useless court clothes, bundling her in blankets. The child murmured, but didn’t stir. Helping herself to the stack of wood piled by the door, she built a fire in the hearth.
When the wood was crackling merrily, Rin took an inventory of the supplies inside the hut. She was pleased to find rope, two pairs of snowshoes, a longbow and quiver with twelve arrows, a rusty but serviceable hunting knife, dried food, and several items of winter clothing. The jacket and boots were made for an adult, but with a few modifications they’d fit Emiko. The socks were an unexpected boon. Pure wool spun with some sort of fur - possibly fox judging by the reddish tint.
Rin laid the socks out near the fire to warm them, then began hacking apart the clothing. She was a poor seamstress. Stitching a wound was very different to sewing a garment. Pieces which had joined together perfectly before didn’t seem to remember each other after they’d been separated. Frustrated, she threw the pieces on the floor with a huff.
“Rin?” The pile of blankets by the fire shifted.
“I’m right here, princess,” Rin answered, abandoning her pitiful attempt at sewing and moving to the rug beside Emiko. The little girl peered up at her from the woolen folds like a baby bird inside a nest. Hard to believe something so small could wield such immense power. “Are you feeling warmer?”
Emiko nodded. “Yes, but my feet are still cold.”
The corners of Rin’s lips lifted in an indulgent smile. “I have just the thing.”
She retrieved the socks – which were now pleasantly warm – from the floor near the hearth. Unwrapping the blankets from around Emiko’s legs, she pulled the socks over the child’s icy feet.
“Oh,” Emiko whimpered. “That feels good.”
Rin tucked the blankets around her legs again and reluctantly returned to her sewing. She assumed Emiko would fall back to sleep, so she was surprised a few minutes later when the child spoke up. “You’re doing it wrong.”
“Pardon?”
Emiko wormed her way closer to where Rin was sitting. “The sleeve is on upside down. See?”
Rin did not. “How can you tell? Both ends look the same.”
Emiko sighed as if the answer was painfully obvious, then held out her hand. Scowling, Rin handed her the pieces of fabric. “This end here has a curve – that’s for the shoulder – and this end doesn’t. Have you never made clothing before?”
Rin folded her arms. She didn’t appreciate being chastened by a six-year-old. “Sewing pretty dresses wasn’t an essential part of my training for the emperor’s service, princess.”
Her curt reply was supposed to put an end to the conversation, but Emiko’s mind was quicker than she realized. “You served my father?”
Memories Rin had tried to suppress swam to the surface; memories of blood and killing and doing as the emperor bid without question. “Yes.”
“What’s he like?”
Rin hesitated. It was natural, of course, that the child wanted to know more about the man who had fathered her, but how could she tell her Emperor Kazan was a monster? That when Rin had confided to him the details of the vision she’d had – of a girl in a cherry blossom kimono holding a sword, a mirror, and a jewel – he’d sent her on a mission to kill Emiko?
“The emperor…” she faltered. “You have the same nose.”
“Really?” Emiko touched her own nose, as if doing so brought her closer to her father.
A strange ache tugged at Rin’s heart. “Yes.”
ICE CRYSTALS CREEPING ACROSS THE WINDOWS – 061219
Rin emerged from the hut as the sky was turning from inky black to pre-dawn grey. She’d banked the fire and left Emiko to enjoy a few more hours of sleep while she hunted. Slinging the bow and quiver across her back, she set off in pursuit of game. The previous night’s storm had transformed the world outside into a shimmering landscape. Ice crystals lined the edge of the roof like glass teeth, and the fir trees now resembled giant snow monsters. Finding prey would be difficult in these conditions - which is why Rin intended to cheat.
She channelled her art, using it to identify the trails where game would soon pass by. Uncoiling the rope she’d found in the hut, Rin set three traps for snow hares then went in search of a larger prize – Sika deer. While her skill with a sword was unsurpassed, Rin wasn’t the best marksman. But she hoped the deep snow would hamper the deer and give her a better chance at hitting her target. Her art showed her a clearing where deer would come, and she scouted until she found the hiding spot which gave her the best chance a successful hunt.
Of course, her art only showed her the possibilities. The future wasn’t a straight road leading to only one destination, but rather a series of paths which twisted and crossed leading to many different outcomes. The wider the path, the more certain the outcome was. A large part of Rin’s training for the emperor’s service had consisted of memory exercises - recalling a series of images in the exact order she had been shown them, memorizing the route through a maze in under ten seconds, and others in a similar vein – with each challenge to be completed without the assistance of her art.
As a four-year-old, Rin had failed to understand the benefit of such rigorous mental training. It seemed stupid and pointless, designed to bore her. Sword practice and combat classes were infinitely more interesting. As an eighteen-year-old, however, she appreciated the advantage being able to follow a series of rehearsed steps provided. She could react faster if she knew the moves her opponent was going to make before they made them, and have counter manoeuvres ready to repel an attack. Fighting became a choreographed dance where Rin skipped her way along a memorized pathway to victory.
Snow crunched. The deer entered the clearing through the trees on her left as predicted. Rin let three spotted does pass by, waiting for them to lower their guard before nocking an arrow. Inhale. Drawing the bow, she aimed for the empty space between two small trees. The air was quiet, still. Exhale. The arrow flew in a perfect arc, but the buck stepped through the gap in the trees a fraction later than Rin anticipated. Instead of piercing the sweet spot just behind the deer’s shoulder, the arrow sank into its neck.
Rin cursed as the buck took off at a run. The three does took fright and bounded after him through the snow. She pelted up the rocky slope to her right, knowing she had only moments to reach the small ledge on the other side of the hill. The timing had to be exact. Skidding to a halt on the ledge, she sighted a fallen tree across the trail below and released another arrow. This one found its mark in the buck’s side as he sprang over the log, dropping him instantly. The does scattered into the forest, but Rin didn’t care. She had what she needed.
Glissading down the slope towards the deer, she basked the warm rush of success. They’d have enough meat to last the whole journey across the border. Rin was so preoccupied with thoughts of cooked venison the touch of cold steel to her throat caught her completed off guard.
“Take me to the princess.”
Rin emerged from the hut as the sky was turning from inky black to pre-dawn grey. She’d banked the fire and left Emiko to enjoy a few more hours of sleep while she hunted. Slinging the bow and quiver across her back, she set off in pursuit of game. The previous night’s storm had transformed the world outside into a shimmering landscape. Ice crystals lined the edge of the roof like glass teeth, and the fir trees now resembled giant snow monsters. Finding prey would be difficult in these conditions - which is why Rin intended to cheat.
She channelled her art, using it to identify the trails where game would soon pass by. Uncoiling the rope she’d found in the hut, Rin set three traps for snow hares then went in search of a larger prize – Sika deer. While her skill with a sword was unsurpassed, Rin wasn’t the best marksman. But she hoped the deep snow would hamper the deer and give her a better chance at hitting her target. Her art showed her a clearing where deer would come, and she scouted until she found the hiding spot which gave her the best chance a successful hunt.
Of course, her art only showed her the possibilities. The future wasn’t a straight road leading to only one destination, but rather a series of paths which twisted and crossed leading to many different outcomes. The wider the path, the more certain the outcome was. A large part of Rin’s training for the emperor’s service had consisted of memory exercises - recalling a series of images in the exact order she had been shown them, memorizing the route through a maze in under ten seconds, and others in a similar vein – with each challenge to be completed without the assistance of her art.
As a four-year-old, Rin had failed to understand the benefit of such rigorous mental training. It seemed stupid and pointless, designed to bore her. Sword practice and combat classes were infinitely more interesting. As an eighteen-year-old, however, she appreciated the advantage being able to follow a series of rehearsed steps provided. She could react faster if she knew the moves her opponent was going to make before they made them, and have counter manoeuvres ready to repel an attack. Fighting became a choreographed dance where Rin skipped her way along a memorized pathway to victory.
Snow crunched. The deer entered the clearing through the trees on her left as predicted. Rin let three spotted does pass by, waiting for them to lower their guard before nocking an arrow. Inhale. Drawing the bow, she aimed for the empty space between two small trees. The air was quiet, still. Exhale. The arrow flew in a perfect arc, but the buck stepped through the gap in the trees a fraction later than Rin anticipated. Instead of piercing the sweet spot just behind the deer’s shoulder, the arrow sank into its neck.
Rin cursed as the buck took off at a run. The three does took fright and bounded after him through the snow. She pelted up the rocky slope to her right, knowing she had only moments to reach the small ledge on the other side of the hill. The timing had to be exact. Skidding to a halt on the ledge, she sighted a fallen tree across the trail below and released another arrow. This one found its mark in the buck’s side as he sprang over the log, dropping him instantly. The does scattered into the forest, but Rin didn’t care. She had what she needed.
Glissading down the slope towards the deer, she basked the warm rush of success. They’d have enough meat to last the whole journey across the border. Rin was so preoccupied with thoughts of cooked venison the touch of cold steel to her throat caught her completed off guard.
“Take me to the princess.”
Ok so Christmas mayhem has made writing a challenge but I will hopefully find time to catch up. Hopefully.
Thank you to everyone who has read this far, especially those who have given feedback. I love hearing your thoughts and will try to repay the favour where time allows.
***
MY EVIL REINDEER ARMY – 071219
The kidnapper froze. Jiro kept the blade of his katana pressed to the section of throat that wasn’t covered by their hood, but the kidnapper made no move to obey his commend. “Princess Emiko,” he snapped. “Take me to her now.”
“Or what?” The kidnapper whirled, slapping the sword away as if it were no more than an irritation. Turning to face him, the kidnapper lowered their hood to reveal the face of a young woman. Her eyes were the hard grey of iron ore, and she wore her coal black hair in a braid bound with a strip of leather.
Jiro recovered from his initial surprise, levelling the tip of his sword at her. “I can be very persuasive, but I’d prefer it if we could avoid a fight.”
“I’m sure you would, considering you’re going to lose,” she laughed, drawing her own sword. A jade green ribbon fluttered from its hilt – the mark of a soldier in the emperor’s service.
Who was this girl? To Jiro’s eyes she looked a year or two younger than he was – perhaps eighteen? Tensai or not, he’d never heard of a female serving in his father’s army, let alone one so young. Still, Jiro couldn’t help smiling at her boldness. “I doubt that.”
“Oh? Is there something I don’t know?” she asked, feigning concern. “Your army is at least a day behind you, so unless you plan on commanding an army of deer,” she gestured at the fallen stag. “you have insufficient resources to win against me.”
Such arrogance. Jiro frowned. Killing a girl, even one who had committed treason by kidnapping his sister, was not a task he would enjoy. “Please. I don’t want to fight you.”
“A pity. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of a decent opponent.”
She exploded forward, her sword streaking towards him. Jiro deflected it just in time, shocked by the speed of her attack as he frantically parried her blows. Then his military training kicked in and he leapt backwards, kicking snow in her face. Not the most honorable of tactics, but effective nonetheless. The girl yelped as the wet slush struck her, spinning away like a dancer while clawing snow from her eyes. Jiro pressed his advantage by lunging – and almost had his throat sliced open by her counter attack.
He ducked and retreated, panting. That had been close. Too close. How had she known where to strike when she couldn’t see? His mind whirled – she’d known when the guards wouldn’t be looking too, and when it would snow. She had no way of knowing any of these things, unless…
“You can see the future.”
She stiffened, wiping the remaining snow from her eyes. When she opened them again her irises were a swirling white. “Yes.”
Fear trickled down his spine. Had she seen his death? Perhaps it wasn’t arrogance after all, but confidence borne from knowing the outcome. So what? he scolded himself. Walking away isn’t an option. If it’s my destiny to die trying to save my sister then I guess I’m going to die. He had no doubt that whoever hired this kidnapper had terrible plans for Emiko. They would find a way to control her, use her art as a weapon, and when they were finished they’d kill her. Jiro could never live with himself knowing he’d run away when she’d needed his protection.
The girl attacked again. It became clear she’d been holding back before, that she could have finished him in a single breath if that had been her desire. Jiro had never encountered someone with her skill at the sword. Combined with her art, she was unstoppable. Every move he made, she blocked with ease. She knew exactly where he would be, and what he intended to do, before he even knew it himself. He was using manoeuvres he hadn’t practiced in years to try and throw her off, but none of it worked. She was there, waiting. A tigress crouched in the grass.
Jiro briefly considered using his own art. He had the power to put a stop to this whole thing, but he hesitated. It felt wrong. It had always felt wrong. If he slipped, if he allowed himself to use it just this once, how much longer before he used it again? And again? A man could find a way to justify anything if his mind was weak. No. Even if it meant he would die, he would not use his art. Some things were best left to fate.
Closing his eyes, Jiro let his sword fall from his fingers.
Thank you to everyone who has read this far, especially those who have given feedback. I love hearing your thoughts and will try to repay the favour where time allows.
***
MY EVIL REINDEER ARMY – 071219
The kidnapper froze. Jiro kept the blade of his katana pressed to the section of throat that wasn’t covered by their hood, but the kidnapper made no move to obey his commend. “Princess Emiko,” he snapped. “Take me to her now.”
“Or what?” The kidnapper whirled, slapping the sword away as if it were no more than an irritation. Turning to face him, the kidnapper lowered their hood to reveal the face of a young woman. Her eyes were the hard grey of iron ore, and she wore her coal black hair in a braid bound with a strip of leather.
Jiro recovered from his initial surprise, levelling the tip of his sword at her. “I can be very persuasive, but I’d prefer it if we could avoid a fight.”
“I’m sure you would, considering you’re going to lose,” she laughed, drawing her own sword. A jade green ribbon fluttered from its hilt – the mark of a soldier in the emperor’s service.
Who was this girl? To Jiro’s eyes she looked a year or two younger than he was – perhaps eighteen? Tensai or not, he’d never heard of a female serving in his father’s army, let alone one so young. Still, Jiro couldn’t help smiling at her boldness. “I doubt that.”
“Oh? Is there something I don’t know?” she asked, feigning concern. “Your army is at least a day behind you, so unless you plan on commanding an army of deer,” she gestured at the fallen stag. “you have insufficient resources to win against me.”
Such arrogance. Jiro frowned. Killing a girl, even one who had committed treason by kidnapping his sister, was not a task he would enjoy. “Please. I don’t want to fight you.”
“A pity. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of a decent opponent.”
She exploded forward, her sword streaking towards him. Jiro deflected it just in time, shocked by the speed of her attack as he frantically parried her blows. Then his military training kicked in and he leapt backwards, kicking snow in her face. Not the most honorable of tactics, but effective nonetheless. The girl yelped as the wet slush struck her, spinning away like a dancer while clawing snow from her eyes. Jiro pressed his advantage by lunging – and almost had his throat sliced open by her counter attack.
He ducked and retreated, panting. That had been close. Too close. How had she known where to strike when she couldn’t see? His mind whirled – she’d known when the guards wouldn’t be looking too, and when it would snow. She had no way of knowing any of these things, unless…
“You can see the future.”
She stiffened, wiping the remaining snow from her eyes. When she opened them again her irises were a swirling white. “Yes.”
Fear trickled down his spine. Had she seen his death? Perhaps it wasn’t arrogance after all, but confidence borne from knowing the outcome. So what? he scolded himself. Walking away isn’t an option. If it’s my destiny to die trying to save my sister then I guess I’m going to die. He had no doubt that whoever hired this kidnapper had terrible plans for Emiko. They would find a way to control her, use her art as a weapon, and when they were finished they’d kill her. Jiro could never live with himself knowing he’d run away when she’d needed his protection.
The girl attacked again. It became clear she’d been holding back before, that she could have finished him in a single breath if that had been her desire. Jiro had never encountered someone with her skill at the sword. Combined with her art, she was unstoppable. Every move he made, she blocked with ease. She knew exactly where he would be, and what he intended to do, before he even knew it himself. He was using manoeuvres he hadn’t practiced in years to try and throw her off, but none of it worked. She was there, waiting. A tigress crouched in the grass.
Jiro briefly considered using his own art. He had the power to put a stop to this whole thing, but he hesitated. It felt wrong. It had always felt wrong. If he slipped, if he allowed himself to use it just this once, how much longer before he used it again? And again? A man could find a way to justify anything if his mind was weak. No. Even if it meant he would die, he would not use his art. Some things were best left to fate.
Closing his eyes, Jiro let his sword fall from his fingers.
CLEAR BLUE SKY – 081219
Jiro waited for the sweet kiss of her blade, but it never came. Some instinct had told him she wouldn’t kill an unarmed man, particularly one who’d voluntarily surrendered his sword. Opening his eyes, Jiro held her gaze as he knelt in the snow. It had stopped snowing, the sky above shifting from a blank white to a clear, brilliant blue. “Please, I beg you. Emiko is my sister. All I care about is keeping her safe.”
His words appeared to give her pause – at least, she wasn’t trying to kill him at this very moment. Her irises swirled and Jiro prayed that whatever she saw with her art would convince her to let Emiko return home with him. But when her eyes settled into their normal dark grey she shook her head. “The princess is safest with me. You should go home.”
Jiro surged to his feet. “No! I won’t let you take her. Whatever they paid you to do this, I’ll double it if you let me take her home.”
“Paid me?” The kidnapper snorted. “Nobody paid me.”
Jiro studied her through narrowed eyes. Her claim made no sense, but she seemed genuinely insulted by his remark. “I don’t understand. Why else would you risk so much?”
“It’s difficult to explain. I’m not even sure I understand it myself,” she replied, sheathing her sword. Jiro opened his mouth to speak, but she held out her hand. “Stop. I know what you’re going to say. But even if I agree to take you to Emiko, prove to you that she’s safe, you won’t be content with that. You will try to devise a way to overpower me so you can take her home. Correct?”
Jiro debated lying, but realised it was pointless trying to deceive someone with her art. “I’m not in the habit of trusting someone who abducts little girls.”
“Understandable,” she nodded. “What if I told you the emperor wants Emiko dead because he believes she is a threat?”
Her question caught him off balance. Jiro knew Emperor Kazan wasn’t sentimental when it came to his children. When Jiro refused to use his art to serve the emperor, he was unceremoniously banished to the mountain palace without so much as a goodbye. And Jiro was under no illusions that if he ever turned against his father, the emperor wouldn’t hesitate to execute him. Jiro’s ambitious younger brother, Saburo, met a swift and untimely end after he was caught plotting to overthrow the emperor. It was framed as an accident, of course. The emperor would never admit it, but Jiro knew he had orchestrated Saburo’s death. He wouldn’t have ordered Emiko’s death though. The emperor was grooming her to be his most powerful weapon, and she was of no value to him dead. “I would demand to know what your proof is.”
The kidnapper shrugged. “He did send me to kill her, although I know my word isn’t going to be enough to satisfy you.”
The jade ribbon on her sword made sense now. Jiro had heard whispers of a Tensai the emperor used to discreetly ‘remove’ people he found to be an inconvenience. Little was known about this Tensai, except that they worked alone, and that their prowess with the sword was unmatched. Their lightning fast fighting style and ability to take their opponents by surprise earned them the nickname ‘Tora’ – tiger – among the emperor’s ranks. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Tora.”
The corner of her mouth crept upwards in the barest hint of a smile. “I prefer Rin.”
Jiro registered her leg flying through the air a split second before her boot connected with his temple and the world went black.
Jiro waited for the sweet kiss of her blade, but it never came. Some instinct had told him she wouldn’t kill an unarmed man, particularly one who’d voluntarily surrendered his sword. Opening his eyes, Jiro held her gaze as he knelt in the snow. It had stopped snowing, the sky above shifting from a blank white to a clear, brilliant blue. “Please, I beg you. Emiko is my sister. All I care about is keeping her safe.”
His words appeared to give her pause – at least, she wasn’t trying to kill him at this very moment. Her irises swirled and Jiro prayed that whatever she saw with her art would convince her to let Emiko return home with him. But when her eyes settled into their normal dark grey she shook her head. “The princess is safest with me. You should go home.”
Jiro surged to his feet. “No! I won’t let you take her. Whatever they paid you to do this, I’ll double it if you let me take her home.”
“Paid me?” The kidnapper snorted. “Nobody paid me.”
Jiro studied her through narrowed eyes. Her claim made no sense, but she seemed genuinely insulted by his remark. “I don’t understand. Why else would you risk so much?”
“It’s difficult to explain. I’m not even sure I understand it myself,” she replied, sheathing her sword. Jiro opened his mouth to speak, but she held out her hand. “Stop. I know what you’re going to say. But even if I agree to take you to Emiko, prove to you that she’s safe, you won’t be content with that. You will try to devise a way to overpower me so you can take her home. Correct?”
Jiro debated lying, but realised it was pointless trying to deceive someone with her art. “I’m not in the habit of trusting someone who abducts little girls.”
“Understandable,” she nodded. “What if I told you the emperor wants Emiko dead because he believes she is a threat?”
Her question caught him off balance. Jiro knew Emperor Kazan wasn’t sentimental when it came to his children. When Jiro refused to use his art to serve the emperor, he was unceremoniously banished to the mountain palace without so much as a goodbye. And Jiro was under no illusions that if he ever turned against his father, the emperor wouldn’t hesitate to execute him. Jiro’s ambitious younger brother, Saburo, met a swift and untimely end after he was caught plotting to overthrow the emperor. It was framed as an accident, of course. The emperor would never admit it, but Jiro knew he had orchestrated Saburo’s death. He wouldn’t have ordered Emiko’s death though. The emperor was grooming her to be his most powerful weapon, and she was of no value to him dead. “I would demand to know what your proof is.”
The kidnapper shrugged. “He did send me to kill her, although I know my word isn’t going to be enough to satisfy you.”
The jade ribbon on her sword made sense now. Jiro had heard whispers of a Tensai the emperor used to discreetly ‘remove’ people he found to be an inconvenience. Little was known about this Tensai, except that they worked alone, and that their prowess with the sword was unmatched. Their lightning fast fighting style and ability to take their opponents by surprise earned them the nickname ‘Tora’ – tiger – among the emperor’s ranks. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Tora.”
The corner of her mouth crept upwards in the barest hint of a smile. “I prefer Rin.”
Jiro registered her leg flying through the air a split second before her boot connected with his temple and the world went black.