Chapter 2.1: Bright Lights, Big City

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They arrived in Rosera in around a half cycle-day of uneventful travel. Sabin's eyes widened at the sights. The large, multilevel buildings rose in the sky, blocking his view of the ports. Some eschewed the standard rice paper and wood design and opted for wooden slats, giving the appearance of a square ship. Others simply modified the design, the higher levels ever decreasing in width to maintain the building's integrity. And the diversity! There were no other Yuans as far as he could see, but the blonde haired, golden eyed Durains walked down the roads as though all was normal.

"How are you so calm?" Young Sabin tugged on Okkai's shirt. He had seen parts of the capital once during the Tournament, but this port city was a completely different animal.

"I've made this trek often enough." Okkai pulled the brown mare to a halt, stopping his wagon. He held out his hand to Sabin. "You can always come home."

Sabin looked at Okkai's hand, his last tie to Toro and clasped around his forearm in return. Then he shook his head no. "I thank you Okkai."

Sabin released Okkai's arm and jumped down from the front of the wagon. He grabbed the remainder of his possessions from the back and nodded to Okkai.

Okkai nodded back and pushed his cart along, leaving Sabin to ponder his fate.

Sabin's heart raced with each step Okkai retreated from his view. He had never been this alone before and the initial fear was getting to him. The barrage of sounds that assaulted Sabin's ears did not help either, so he focused on his breathing, drawing on the focus techniques his father taught him. With each breath his heart calmed until the world slowed down for him. He found that he could differentiate the source of each noise. Three women stood nearby, dressed in identical blue and red flowered kimonos. Their faces were painted solid white, with red rose spots on each cheek. They sang daisuki and Sabin was reminded of Kaita's singing voice. Kaita wasn't nearly as good as these three, but he had loved to listen just the same. That thought sent his heart aflutter again, so he forced her from his mind with his breathing.

I will never succeed if I continue to think of her. I must do better.

He must have been staring, for when he gathered his thoughts, the young woman in the center smiled at him. Hoping to relieve the awkward feeling in his chest, he dropped a few zen in their wicker basket and went along his way.

He continued through the city, looking for a sign of some kind or someone that could point him in the direction of Darren. Most people ignored his questions, too busy with tasks of their own. One Durain man tried to sell him a robe or a goat in the process. Sabin couldn't tell which in the thickness of the man's accent.

"Let me go," a voice cried.

Sabin reacted by turning his head towards the nearby alley. Over the bustle of the crowd it seemed like fate, no one else did. He felt the familiar pull of purpose and rushed to help.

The man was a brute in every sense of the word; bulging muscles covered his thick upper body. His beard was thick, with greying flecks and his hair was cropped short. The young woman was a complete contrast, short, petite and curly blue hair flowing down her back. Blue hair? Why is a Hruh-yite this far south? Sabin quickly chastised himself. I'm not one to judge.

She tried to pull her arm away, but failed under the man's vice grip. "I'm so sorry, I really am," she said.

The brute slapped her across the face with his free hand. She fell to the ground and started sobbing loudly.

Does no one else hear this?

"You little wench. "Where is my money?"

The young woman slowly rose to her feet. "I don't have your money. I'm sorry."

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