She’d forgotten just how much she loved the sea.

The sand was crisp and cool beneath her, the wind rose and fell over the salty waves and danced like the fingers of playful children through her long, loose tresses, lifting her hair so that it swirled and trailed across her shoulders then fell and hung across her eyes. The waves were small today, their brilliant blue tinged orange and golden by the warm, rising sun. They rushed forth from the sea and brimmed white before they crashed along the shore line and sent the sea racing up until it covered her feet up to her ankles. It were as if, with the waters retreat, that the sea was trying to take her into its depths. Azalea shivered as she ran her hand through her hair and tossed it from her face, this place reminded her so of her dream, course, here in Yokohama there were no dusty huts lined beyond the ocean, no battered fishing nets strung up to billow in the wind, yet still – she could not deny the longing to felt to throw herself into the cold depths of the sea.

A soft, muffled whinny broke her from her trance, life returned to her pristine azure eyes once more and she turned slightly to one side to look at the stallion who stood impatiently on the dry white sand. He was not hers but she had taken him over any other horse in Masato’s stables for the simple reason that he was the fastest and he had taken a liking to her.

“Hiro,” she whispered and outstretched her hand for the stallion. He shifted his hooves upon the sand then moved towards her and ran his muzzle along her fingers before nestling into the palm of her hand. Azalea smiled very slightly as she scratched her fingers gently in a downwards motion.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she turned from him and dropped to the sand below where she sat with both her legs pressed together and bent to one side, back straight, hands on the ground with her arms straight to support her weight. “Leaving everything behind,” Hiro made a soft gruff as if he understood, she smiled again. “I know I don’t…” The stallion took a few steps to one side and stood still and obediently next to her, like a guardian he watched over the seemingly frail girl who perched herself on the beach.

“So what now?” she spoke more to herself than anything else as her eyes drifted closed and inhaled upon the sweet scent of the sea salt in the air. “I’m a rogue…what else is there for me to do?” It seemed to be a question that answered itself, she had no allegiances now, no ties to her clan or any other, no fatherly figure to watch over her, she was alone and independent – she was happy. “They will know the sting of my blade,” she whispered, “And it shall be their punishment…” her thoughts drifted to the man from the tavern and slowly, Azalea opened her eyes.

“He was so sure of himself…he had no master to answer to…” She spoke as if to cement the many thoughts that raced through her mind, everything was such a blur, too much had happened in such a short span of time and now – here she was…and there was nothing she could do to change that. Not that she wanted to.

With a soft, fleeting smile, Azalea silenced herself as she reached into the folds of her short kimono and pulled from it the long, thin, polished wooden flute. She admired it as she turned it over in her hands, it glistened and glowed under the rays of the sun that broke across the horizon like some holy artefact. She lifted it to her lips and held it horizontal, fingers poised, she closed her eyes and blew softly into the flute. The sweetest of sounds erupted from its end, a wind song that trailed tranquilly over the sands. It calmed her and with each movement of her fingers and each sub sequential change in the tune she felt the fog lift from her mind, she saw things clearly.

She knew what path laid before her now.

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