Naomi didn't know exactly where she was. Sure she was in the Myre, swampy forests and sky high trees covered in moss gave her that much, but she couldn't tell which part. The only thing she could do at this moment was walk. It was better than sitting around waiting for something to happen.
The ground felt strange beneath her feet. It felt soft and mushy as what she expected mud to be, yet it was also cold. Icy even. How was that possible? This place was only warm and humid. Naomi glanced at her feet to find that hard ground replaced the watery substance. Confused, She then looked around her surroundings, suddenly aware of what was happening.
It was snowing.
Small white flakes drifted through the air like a sacred dance of the cold and fell onto the clear, hard ground. Mountains replaced the trees that blocked out the sun and clouds loomed in the sky overhead. The land was covered in a white blanket, from the shores of the south to the tips of the mountains in the north.
Valkenheim? What was she doing in viking territory? Any and all Samurai found within this territory were to be killed on sight.
Naomi blew out a breath of air, which came out as though it were a huff of smoke, and began to walk towards the mountains. Why she chose them she didn't know, after all, to get back to the Myre she would have to turn around and go the opposite way, towards the shores of Claw Island or the Lookout Bluff. Yet on she went, ignoring her better judgment.
The ground didn't feel cold beneath Naomi's feet. Not as cold as she would have thought, but the continuous crunch with each step she took was very well in place. The mountains themselves didn't seem to be getting any closer. Sure she didn't walk very far, but their size did not change or shift at a very slow manner at all.
Naomi huffed out a breath, hot steam escaped her lips.
What am I doing? This is pointless.
A sudden change in the ground beneath her feet made her stop. A light crunch of the snow, barely noticeable yet still there. A change in texture.
She dared herself to look down.
Blood.
Lines of blood within the snow that led into the direction she was going. Little bits of snow clumped up with the blood, leaving bits of odd shapes that hardened.
That wasn't there before.
Naomi looked up from the ground once more, though she did it more cautiously now. The lines of blood led away from her, occasionally swerving a little from the path but never ceasing. It flowed like still water to a man, standing utterly silent with his back turned towards her.
A samurai.
Naomi wasn't alone after all.
She took time to notice the features. His back armor consisted of blue and red colors. The red was painted as a fan, similar to the ones that she would use to practice manners, with the rest of it being covered in ocean blue. His helmet loosely wrapped around his head with metal like water sticking out from the frontal sides.
This was an Orochi. Deadly assassins that served both the empress and Daimyo, even the corrupt ones.
Seeing his katana sheathed on his side confirmed this. A blade that was covered in blood. Most Likely the same blood as the trail that led up to him. It dripped in tiny droplets at an agonizing pace off his sword and onto the white floor.
Naomi wanted to call out to him, but every instinct in her body told her not to. It was too risky. A samurai out in viking territory? It was impossible. Yet here she was, doing the same thing.
"You stare at me as though you haven't brought harm," the Orochi said, never turning to face her.
Naomii jumped. Harm? What does he mean by harm?
When she looked farther beyond the assassin, she could see something laying at his feet. She dared herself to take a step closer.
"You do not bring honor with you..."
The Orochi stepped away to the side, letting the object on the ground be revealed. The blood trail continued a little further just before stopping.
Naomi's heart caught in her throat. The Orochi was her father. She knew from the look in his eye and the very manner in which he held himself. Yet the thing before her was...
***
Naomi woke up in a cold sweat. Breaths of precious air filled her lungs as though she had at last broken the surface of water. Her eyes gazed up to the ceiling of something familiar. Something soft and warm covered her body as she laid still.
She was home.
Naomi breathed in a sigh of relief and clenched her fists to see if anything was real. Still here. A groan escaped her lips when she sat up, the moment of her dream still fresh in her mind.
The cold winter of Valkenheim. The mountains that never got any closer when she walked through the landscape. Her father dressed as a Samurai warrior.
The thing she saw in front of her father...
What did she see again?
Naomi had to remember, but only the little details came into her mind. She remembered the crunching under her feet of the snow mixed with blood. She remembered the armor that her father was wearing. She even remembered the way her father looked at her with disgust, the way it made her feel.
She pondered this dream as she got ready, washing up and putting on her kimono.
"Naomi!" A muffled voice of a child yelled.
The wooden doors slid open, revealing a girl of about nine years of age. She held two pieces of string in her hands, with one end on each being worn down.
"Can I borrow your string? Mine broke."
Naomi frowned, "Naoki, you can't just keep breaking your string."
The girl's eyes widened as she folded her hands, "please. I'll ask father to go into town tomorrow."
Naomi gave an exasperated sigh then nodded. She went across the room and opened her closet to look for her storage box. The box was small enough to sit in the corner of her shelved closet but easily found with symbols of golden snakes came to view. She opened it and picked up a string within. As the sting left the confines of its box, rough, beige paper revealed itself underneath.
For a small moment she forgot she had that paper. She quickly closed the box and handed the string to her sister waiting patiently. Though, Naomi could see that she was getting a little jumpy.
"Will this work?"
The girl's face brightened. She grabbed the string and let out a quick, "yes, thank you!" before scurrying back to her room and sliding the door shut.
"I expect to have that back!" Naomi yelled out, but she doubted if her younger sister heard it.
"You're not getting that back," In the corner of her eye a figure walked by until it came to full view.
A young boy, older than Naoki, of about 12 years of age. His shorter hair was in a mess and his eyes were undertone with dark spots. He walked as though there was a heavy weight on his back. His steps mimicked this way too. With each one he took he just dragged them across the floor.
"Takeo?" Naomi elongated the word and crossed her arms as he slowly walked by, "have you been up late reading those books again?"
The boy stopped in his tracks but didn't look back, "No."
Naomi took a step out of her room and walked up to her sibling.
"Maybe."
She scoffed, "you know that's not good for you," She took to his side, his head only able to reach her shoulders.
"Samurai need to have a well rested body as well as a keen eye."
She flicked him in the head, causing him to yelp and flinch.
"See? You never knew that was coming. Even if you did, you would be too slow." She smiled at the little teasing she put him through.
Takeo didn't do the same. He rubbed the back of his head with his hand. Through clenched teeth he said, "this is why you don't train me."
He picked up his pace beyond the hall and took a turn left, going out of sight to Naomi. Years of training and he would still not listen to the basic needs of his own well-being.
Can't help it.
"Naomi," the voice beside her made her jump.
Next to her was someone she hoped to avoid in the morning. Wrinkles adorned his face, as though someone took a brush and painted them on. He stood tall like he didn't have years of experience behind his back yet didn't carry the arrogance and pride of a young man.
Out of respect but more of a want to avoid his gaze she bowed, "good morning, father."
Naomi held this bow as long as she could, "what were you doing in your study?"
She dared herself to move again, meeting his eyes once more. They held no look of disdain or cold nature, yet one of a nurturing kind. As a father should, but she still didn't feel safe under it. The image of blood on his hands was still etched into her mind.
"A friend sent me a letter. It was delivered earlier this morning."
Her father didn't answer with disgust or with disdain, instead he answered casually.
"I see," she said before trying to walk away.
"Is there something wrong, Naomi?"
His voice stopped her like a powerful hand trying to pull her back.
Without looking back she answered, "no. I'm just a little shaken about the... night spirit." The last two words struggled to come out of her mouth.
"Naomi..." a comforting tone entered the room. She didn't want to see the look he gave her.
Naomi interjected before her father could finish, "oh, I need to head to the clinic."
"So soon?" he asked.
She began to take a step out of the room, "I need to finish some things that I didn't complete last night."
"Noami," the way he said it made her stop.
It wasn't harsh, but firm. Not demanding but heartening. The way his voice echoed across the hall forced her to turn around and face him. For a moment he didn't say anything, his words struggled to make their way out correctly. He shifted, then sighed as he relaxed. Somehow this worry in his actions gave Naomi a sense of calm. She saw the man before her not as the cold warrior covered in blood, but the kind caring father that loves his children.
"Don't rush yourself," a small thing really. If Naomi only had a little ounce of her fear left it would have been gone by now.
She smiled and rushed over to give him a hug. His hands delayed to hug her back, surprised at the sudden change in her mood, before finally returning the gesture.
"I will make my mind sound, father," then moved away from the embrace.
Naomi walked towards the door of her house with a little less anxiety. The dream now seemed like miles away from her mind. He was not a ruthless warrior, just a mere trainer of the art of fighting.
Yet somehow that didn't make sense in her mind.
She shook off the feeling as she slid the door open to her house. Instead of warm light drifting through a clear sky, Thick trees covered the sun so much that only a few lines of rays shone through. Green branches covered in leaves showered down like rain to the forest floor. When she stepped off the wooden porch and onto the ground it grew soft like it wasn't able to carry her weight. The morning fog covered much of the green lands, making it difficult to see what was on the ground ten feet before her. Humid air clung to her clothes and exposed skin.
Yet Naomi understood every aspect of what the vikings or knights might call "H3ll." The Myre was her home after all. While her house was more isolated than the village, She didn't need her sight to know where it was. The sounds of the village and the familiarity of each tree when she rubbed against it already gave her enough direction as is.
The wind blew against the trees as she walked along the path, sounding like a soft rain in the distant fields. Although she didn't feel the force herself she was able to smell the wet air that got dragged along with it. The wooden buildings of the village itself practically blended in with the rest of the forest. When she approached, silhouettes moved with life. People, although not as much as the big cities near the empress's palace, flourished with life, though dull as it may be. The fog cleared to reveal the actions of what they were doing. Some were selling items on the market, others were buying the items. Some merely walked on by, with their heads hung low and her movements awfully somber.
Naomi entered the village to find that the sickly green color of the trees had been somewhat covered by the moist, brown wood of the buildings held together by the fragile foundation of the ground below.
"Oh there's our little healer!" Naomi jumped at the enthusiastic yell.
To her right was a man. His selling station was placed in front of the small wooden building that was his house. Moss had begun to grow on one side of the house, painting it green instead of its unflattering dark brown. The station that the man sat behind had a roof to cover itself from the sun. Beneath the protective shadow were simple foods. Breads, Fruits and vegetables. All of them without any mold or blemishes on them.
She smiled and walked up to the merchant, "good morning Sakuma."
With closer inspection Sakuma's hair had turned white with age with wrinkles adorning his whole face. His hands looked frail, as though he couldn't hold onto a knife properly.
"You're early," His voice warmed Naomi's heart. Despite the man's old age, he still wore a bright smile on his face.
Naomi smiled back, "I know, but I needed to get some things done."
Sakuma casually rearranged his cabbages as if they were about to fall off, "say," he started, "have you seen my grandson? I haven't seen him in a few weeks. I wonder if he's on a trip with his father."
Naomi's heart stopped beating. She resisted the urge to gasp. Words did not form in her mind to answer the question. What could she say to the man with the aging mind?
How could she explain both his son and his grandson's disappearance? Would he be devastated? Would he even remember it at all?
Sakura waited with that same oblivious smile on his face. Naomi finally took a breath and said, "no, I haven't, but I'm sure they'll be back soon."
She bit down on her regret and forced a smile on her face.
The old merchant stood there for a while, as if unconvinced by the answer. "oh well. Have a nice rest of your day. And don't forget to pick up some bread for your father."
Naomi should mention that her father already got the bread yesterday, "I won't," she said before continuing her trek to the place she needed to be. Luckily it was only a few paces away.
The clinic at which she worked was a small hut. Smaller than the rest of the village's building's which was saying something. It stood a good head and shoulders taller than a viking, but its body stretched well over three times that. This time no moss grew from one side. It was well kept by the owner with a little banner of the empress's symbol hung on the door. A bright red Torii. Naomi approached the clinic, readjusting herself to seem less rushed, and slid the door open.
With a polite bow, she said, "Good morning Madame Kodama."
Inside the rather dark place, was a woman. Her kimono was all white, contrasting it with the rest of the room. Her face drew lines on the edges of her eyes and mouth but they never stopped her from keeping such a stern stare at Naomi. In one hand she held a fan and in the other a cup of tea with steam escaping from the cup and into the air.
"You're early," she stated.
Naomi entered the clinic and closed the door behind her, the smell of strong spices filled her nose, "I need to finish some work from yesterday." She tied her hair into a knot then made her way to the giant shelf separated into different cubes of storage. Each cube contained many plants, seeds, spices and other oral medicines. She grabbed a wooden bowl filled with poppy seeds.
Madame Kodama lifted the cup to her mouth, "I don't blame you child. Who could get any work done after what happened?"
She took a sip of her tea and sighed, "I can't say Mobura didn't have it coming to him. The night spirit must have been especially angry."
A flinch from Naomi made her knock over the bowl of poppy seeds, spilling the black beads onto the floor. The sound they made when they did sounded like a far off rain.
"Sorry!" she exclaimed, hastily kneeling to the ground to pick up the seeds.
Madame Kodama's footsteps approached Naomi before she knelt down beside her and began to gather the seeds with her.
"You need to be more careful, child," Madame Kodama said, her voice firm but caring, reminding Naomi of her own mother.
She lowered her head in an attempt to hide her eyes, "yes madame Kodama. My apologies."
"I don't need your apologies. I need your skill."
The two finished off the mess and restored the poppy seeds back into the bowl.
"Madame," a dull voice, barely audible even through such a small hut, broke the two's routine.
A woman stood at the door and although light poured in from behind her, the figure which presented herself was shrouded in darkness. With closer inspection, Naomi could see the features but she couldn't stand to see the sight.
The woman that stood there was Minori's mother. The boy who Mobura recently took to be sold into slavery.
Naomi held in a breath as the woman looked to be on the verge of death. Her once full and healthy figure had now become a smaller, paler version of herself. She wore torn rags that looked as though they hadn't been washed in days. It had been 2 years since her husband left to fight in the war. It had only been two weeks since her son's forceful removal.
Through cracked lips she struggled to whisper one word, "medicine..."
Madame Kodama's eyes softened, "Kou... I can't keep doing this. It's clearly not working-"
The woman- Kou- fell to her knees. Her breath came out in short gasps for air. "please!" The loud plea was soon followed by uncontrollable sobs. Naomi stifled in a gasp by holding her mouth closed with one hand.
Don't say it, she urged herself, don't even think about it!
Yet it was hard not to. This woman was broken, and all Naomi wanted to do was tell her the truth. The tears that dripped onto the floor in little droplets forced her to look away.
Madame Kodama didn't flinch as Naomi had, instead she gave a somber sigh and said, "Naomi," she didn't have to finish the order before Naomi turned back to the shelf.
Her hands shook so violently that it took her longer to grab the item she needed. The familiar cool sensation of the glass jar touching her fingers came to her. She firmly gripped it and brought it over to the healer, all without daring to take a look at it. Madame Kodama took the small glass container out of her hands and knelt down. She gently put a hand on the woman's shoulder which made Kou flinch.
"Take one a day. Nothing more, nothing less," Madame Kodama barely got to finish her sentence before the container was snatched out of her hands.
"Yes," Kou said desperately, "thank you!"
She smiled, but it didn't not brighten her face. Her gray appearance still lingered on in her form. The medicine was only meant to numb physical pain, but Kou must have thought she found what she needed, but what she needed was the truth.
And Naomi had it, but if she told this mourning mother, this woman down that was so desperate for something to keep her mind from going insane, then she would have surely wanted to join her son.
Kou turned around and rushed out the door, not leaving a single trace except for the stains of her tears left on the wooden floor. The two were left in utter silence, either of them unsure if they should speak and ultimately choosing not to.
Naomi felt the urge from the ever-pressing guilt to go run after her and tell her what really happened. To at least give the woman clarity or a sense of justice, for her blade had his blood on it that night. But she knew that wouldn't do her any good. Mobura's demise wouldn't have made it any better. For it was this War of Wolves that was as much to blame as Mobura was.
A sudden hit of realization came to her. The dream- or rather nightmare- she had last night. Naomi's heart skipped a beat. The thing before her father was the body of the boy, his eyes stared directly back at her.
Madame Kodama must have caught the shift in her face, "Naomi? Your face is pale," the elder healer stepped closer to her and with one hand took hold of her chin.
The door slid open before Naomi could break down, "Madame Kodama!" Sakuma stood at the door breathlessly. Although it was only a few paces to run, the man's face was red as a tomato.
Naomi noticed that the healer had partially covered her face with her hands, "I'm sure whatever news you bring it must be important," she said.
The Sakuma took a few huffs of breath, clearly taking his time with the gulps of air he inhaled. He finally readjusted himself.
"There's a new Daimyo."