The morning sun flickered over the rice paddies, casting a golden light across the still water. A light mist floated just above the surface, swirling gently as villagers moved between rows of green, bent low with the rhythm of tradition. Barefoot farmers, sleeves rolled up to their elbows, chanted as they worked in harmony.
InuShin sat on a worn stone wall at the edge of the village, legs dangling, watching. Small children ran through the shallow waters, squealing in delight as their tiny feet splashed and slipped, while their parents, patient and strong-backed, carried overflowing baskets of seedlings.
The earthy scent of wet soil mingled with the distant aroma of miso soup cooking over firewood stoves. Above it all, the melodic ring of a wind chime danced in the breeze from an old shrine tucked beside a blooming sakura tree, its petals swaying.
The morning felt like any other. Peaceful. Ordinary. Precious.
Nestled between the mountainous forest of Sugi and the Kii channel, the thatched roofs of the homes wore a crown of mist. The stone paths, worn smooth by generations, twisted like memories through the settlement, leading in and out of the village in different directions.
InuShin watched a dragonfly dart just above the water, its wings reflecting the sun.
“Shin!” His father’s voice broke him from the wander, firm but not unkind. “Time to collect the blades. The Shihai’s men don’t wait, and we have a journey to make.”
He hopped off the wall and wiped the dust from his faded blue haori and hakama, turning his gaze towards his home. His long raven hair cascaded around him.
His father, broad-shouldered and wrapped in an off-gray kimono and hakama, was already venturing halfway down the path to the family’s forge. His hair, black as night, was tied into a high ponytail and cascaded down his back.
InuShin sprinted and caught up with his father, stepping inside their little home and spotting numerous katana that had been laid out. “Polished and ready to go, Father?” Beside each sword, a box and a bag for safe transportation.
“Hai.” His father knelt beside one of the swords, placing it in a bag and then a box.
InuShin followed suit, one by one, until every sword found its home. “Do you want me to put them in the carriage?”
His father nodded curtly.
InuShin picked up one of the boxes and carried it outside the home, stepping around the small building to a small carriage, a light brown frame with a bamboo curtain held up by two wheels. He shifted the curtain aside and laid the box inside, on top of the straw flooring. One by one, he transferred the boxes into the carriage and reentered the home.
“Is there anything else we need to bring?”
His father nodded once more, pointing into the other room. “A box, wrapped in black silk. I went ahead and packed our food for the trip. Collect it and meet me outside. I will prepare the horse.”
“Hai, Father.” InuShin scurried into the other room, searching the shelves for the silk-wrapped box.
He scanned the bottom and second shelf but couldn’t locate it. “It’s not in here.” He called out. But there was no response. He swept the shelves once more, and still nothing. “Maybe he put it on the top shelf?” He shifted his attention, staring at the shelf above him. “But I’m not tall enough to see up there.”
He searched the room, finding a step stool in the corner and dragging it closer to the shelves.
He climbed to the top and raised to his tip-toes, barely seeing the top shelf. He spotted the black silk-wrapped box and a smaller one, wrapped in green with intricate patterns resembling tree bark and leaves. “What is this?”
InuShin stretched his body further and lightly touched the edge of the green box, struggling to flip it closer. “Almost got it.” The box flipped closer to him, and he grabbed it.
“Shin! It’s time to go,” his father sternly shouted.
The step stool wobbled beneath him, forcing him to fall backwards onto the floor and land on his butt, smacking his back against the wall. He grimaced as his back began throbbing.
“What are you doing?” his father’s voice appeared close.
He shifted his attention, spotting his father’s dark brown eyes staring at him. “I fell.” He pointed to the top shelf, slowly returning to his feet. “I found the box on the top shelf and tried reaching for it, but slipped. I also found this green one, but I’ve never seen the wrapping before. Where is it from?” He held up the box in question.
His father’s eyes softened. “I will tell you, but first, we need to move along.” His father shifted his gaze to the shelves and then reached out, grabbing the silk-wrapped box. “How do you feel?” His face stoic, yet his eyes gentle.
“I’m okay,” he returned to his feet, rubbing his back a little. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
InuShin slipped the mysterious box into his sleeve and followed his father out of their home and over to the carriage, the horse already strapped in.
Her muscles rippled underneath its black-brown coat with patches of white. Her head shifted, black eyes watching InuShin’s every step and ears twitching to the sounds of the world.
InuShin approached the horse slowly, hand stretched out as she nodded her head, shifting it as her long black mane fell beside her neck. “We have a long journey, Mikage. Please get us there safely.” He gently rested a hand on her mane, running his fingers through it.
She snorted, as if to answer, nodding her head once more.
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Once done petting, InuShin climbed onto the carriage and sat beside his father, resting his hands on his lap. His father signaled for Mikage to move, the strong horse pulling them onward.
They slowly exited the village, following the gravel path between the ocean and the mountainous side, the horse's hooves clacking in a melodious rhythm.
“The green box,” his father started. “Is a gift from your mother that I was supposed to give to you on your eighth birthday.”
InuShin pulled the box from his sleeve, soft and smooth, examining the patterns on it. The tree bark and leaves were etched with light brown stitching, grainy to the touch.
“But Father, today is my eleventh birthday.” He shifted his gaze.
“I know.” His father kept his attention ahead, hands gripping the reins. “At the time I was to present the gift to you, Shihai Satsu demanded my attendance, and when we returned, I forgot about it. I do apologize.”
“It’s okay, Father.” He returned his attention to the small box, tracing his fingers along the patterns. “Is it okay to open the gift now?”
“Hai. I, too, would like to see what she left behind.”
InuShin carefully unwrapped the layers, which were far more durable than they felt. A dark red box came into view, etched with celestial symbols, a moon with several stars. “Wow. There are so many details.”
He removed the lid and within, a necklace. Suspended from a woven silver thread was a delicate silver pendant in the shape of a tree, its branches and roots twisting like veins around two crystals melded together, blue and green. A carving of a dog sat at the base of the tree, staring up into the branches as if waiting for something beyond them.
As he lifted the necklace from its home, the crystals radiated with a light. “Did you see that, Father?”
“See what?” His gaze never left the trail.
“Nothing.” He ran his fingers over the smooth metal surface. Maybe it was just the sun reflecting off the gems. At the end of the thread, he spotted the clasps and unhooked them, placing the thread around his neck and clasping it back together.
He exhaled slowly, the creaking of the cart wheels invading his ears. “Father, what was she like? Mother, I mean.”
“You want to know more about your mother? About Ishida…”
He spoke quietly. “I don’t remember her. Just fragments, like her humming. Her blue eyes. Maybe you could tell me what she was like.”
His father loosened his grip on the reins. For a moment, only the hooves and wheels filled the silence.
“She was… unlike anyone I’d ever met. Someone you couldn’t ever forget, even if the rest of the world tried to make you.” His voice was low, yet warm.
“What did you like about her?”
His father let out a short breath, half laugh, half sigh. “That’s a long list, son.”
“Start somewhere.” InuShin nudged him with his shoulder
“Okay.” He smiled faintly. “She had this way of seeing people. Not just looking, but seeing. Like she could catch the truth in you, even the parts you were trying to hide. But she never judged. She’d just smile, like she understood, and that was enough.”
“Were her eyes really blue?”
“Zaffre,” he corrected gently. “Like the deepest blue ink in the oldest calligraphy scrolls. Strange, to some. But breathtaking. Like they held stars you couldn’t name.”
InuShin shifted his gaze towards the sky. “Did you ever ask where she came from?”
“Never. Not once.”
“Why not?” He turned towards his father.
“Because wherever it was… it made her who she was. And that was enough for me.” He paused. “She didn’t belong to the village. She didn’t even seem to belong to this world sometimes. But gods, she belonged to us. To me. To you.” He turned to meet InuShin’s gaze. “She loved us both fiercely. Even when she had to go. I know it nearly broke her. Not a day passed that she didn’t look at you like you were her world.”
His heart swelled, discovering how his mother felt about him. “Did she laugh?” he asked softly.
His father’s eyes warmed. “All the time. But never loudly. Her laugh was quiet. Like a breeze through wind chimes. And when she hummed you to sleep, strange melodies I’d never heard before. Songs from wherever she came from, I suppose.”
“Did she ever fight?”
“Oh, yes.” He smirked. “She didn’t need a sword, though I saw her handle one once, graceful as a falling leaf. But mostly, she fought with her words. Her silence. Her stubbornness. When she stood for something, she was immovable.”
InuShin brought his knees to his chest, hugging them. “I wish I could remember her.”
“I wish you could, too. But you carry her, you know.”
“How?”
He reached out and tapped InuShin’s chest gently. “Here. In how you feel things deeply, even when you try to hide it. In the way you see people. But now you have the necklace she left behind.”
In the distance, the road opened up, lined with banners bearing the Shihai’s crest. The cart rolled forward, but the weight of the moment lingered.
“Do you think we will ever see Mother again?” He looked to his father, hopeful.
“That I do not know.” His smile faltered, into something softer. “Not a day goes by that I hope to see her beauty once again. To see the way she looks at me. At us.”
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around them, carrying the scent of pine and earth. And as they rode onward towards the Shihai’s village, InuShin sat a little straighter. His heart was a little heavier, but his spirit was a little more whole.
“When do we present the swords to the Shihai’s men?”
“Moonrise,” he answered.
The gates of the Shihai’s village loomed ahead, tall, carved with a phoenix over a Kiri flower. Golden lacquer shimmered faintly in the sunlight, catching on each curve and claw. Guards stood poised in ornate armor, spears raised in a silent salute as his father guided the cart inside.
InuShin’s eyes widened as he took in the village.
Unlike anything he’d seen before. Buildings curved like the petals of a lotus blossom, rooftops tilted with glazed ceramic that shimmered blue and violet. Cherry trees lined the walkways.
Everywhere, people bustled on their journey. Villagers exchanged currency with merchants, children walked in formation with teachers.
InuShin stared, spellbound, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The wind dropped. The trees froze.
And then, a soft breath, brushing past his ear.
It is time to wake up, little one.
InuShin spun, but no one stood beside him.
The noise of the village swelled again, hoovers clattered, voices rang, and the wind stirred the leaves. But InuSin’s heart pounded, eyes darting.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
His father raised a brow. “No. You alright?”
“Y…yeah. I just thought…I heard…” His fingers reached instinctively for the necklace. It pulsed once again with a faint warmth emitted from it, like a heartbeat. But not his own.
His breath slowed, thoughts bouncing between wonder and warning. His ears tuned for the voice that may not have been real… but felt true.
