A pout found its way onto Keiko's lips, and she had half a mind to begin guilt-tripping him for his declaration that he did not intend to ask her to the festival. She decided to be merciful in the end, seeing as though he quickly pivoted his answer—as much as she wanted to watch him squirm, there would be many more opportunities to do so if she spent more than just a few passing moments with him that day. The short girl dropped back onto her heels after a moment, her pout morphing into a face of contemplation.

Of course, he hadn't just stopped there. The heartfelt words that followed almost made her give up her mischievous little act. There was a strong urge to break the facade of consideration she wore when he mentioned her being part of the village. An urge to meet him with disdain. As if he of all people knew what it felt like to be ostracized. Half the village youths swooned over him, and the other half wanted to be him. But she steeled herself against the worst of her impulses and decided to respond in her usual teasing.

"Well, I suppose I don't mind going with you. Even if you are sweating through your shirt," She decided, positively resplendent in her mercy, "You'll be paying for the food though, right? I treated you to breakfast, you know. It impolite to remain indebted to a lady."

Any devious scheme to get Tsubasa to pay for her meals would have to be put on pause. No sooner did the words leave her mouth did she spot someone approaching the forge, and someone Keiko was not at all happy to see. Truthfully, she wasn't pleased to see most of the village's inhabitants, but to be face-to-face with the Master's niece so early in the morning was a quick way to tarnish her mood worse than it already had been. The girl's family practically were Heiseina, the privileged few who oversaw all and kept their perfect little utopia running nice and smoothly. They embodied the very spirit of the valley itself, and Keiko received a poignant reminder of that as she met the young Takamori's gaze.

It didn't take an especially sharp mind to notice the iciness in Fumiko's eyes the second they drifted from Tsubasa to herself. An immediate rejection, even through the facade of pleasantries that poured out of her mouth in the following moments. A microcosm of the very thing which had so thoroughly spoiled her mood, and a perfect metaphor for how the town had treated her.

She hated it. The look, the village, the Takamori, and Fumiko all. It took every ounce of her composure not to let the animosity that had built all morning boil to the surface. She wanted to do something to wipe that sweet, fake little smile off the girl's face. To do something to make her feel some pain for once in her perfect little life. She wouldn't need to think for long. That cold gaze that had spurred on Keiko's spiteful side was the answer to her plea. She could see the way the girl's eyes lit up when she looked at Tsubasa. The little smiles. The sugary tone. There was an easy way to make her squirm.

"Hmm, I don't know. Tsu-kun and I were just about to head off to see the festival together," Keiko replied, her tone just as manufactured in its cheer. She took advantage of their proximity, reaching over to loop her arm through his own and lean into him a little. An intimate thing, but she was sure he wouldn't care, oblivious lug that he was. She imagined Fumiko, on the other hand, would care quite a lot—especially when she caught sight of the slightest hint of the smug little grin tugging across her feature.

"I suppose we could postpone our little date if it's super important. What do you think?" Her inquiry came with a slight flutter of her lashes, the look she cast toward Tsubasa decidedly more innocent than the one she had offered Fumiko seconds before.

---

In a daze, the befuddled Shrine Maiden read the message before her at least three times before it finally sank in that, no, she hadn't mistaken any of the words. Yet even so, try though she might to comprehend it, she couldn't wrap her head fully around the enormity of what she held in her hands. How could the order which her preceptor had so esteemed and protected be shattered? Had there been some kind of mistake on her part? Because she had failed in her duties, then, was everything going to fall apart? No, no, no. It couldn't be. If it had been her doing, then why would Inari-sama warn her in such a manner? Rather, if she was the one at fault, the spirits wouldn't have come to her seeking aid, but rather surely would have punished her directly for her impudence. Even if she had somehow gravely insulted them, they surely wouldn't have gone back on their word and abandoned their compact with the entire village. Which meant that maybe... there was yet something she could do. Miorochi-sama would wake soon, and then perhaps whatever impurities had crept in and breached the contract could yet be excised, and the harmony of Heiseina mended. But what? What was she supposed to do in this sort of situation?

She hadn't been trained for this. Her grandma would surely know what to do in this kind of situation, but... Oyuki wasn't like her. Could she appeal to the Spirits somehow? Impossible. She didn't even know their names. She didn't have any kind of special powers -- she was just a girl playing at being something bigger than herself. A naive child whose hands were still far too small and frail to repay her debts, no matter how she grew into an adult's shape.

She took a deep breath. It didn't matter. The spirits had placed this responsibility in her hands; that meant she had to see it through. Firstly, she'd start with what she did know, and work from there. An important spirit was currently at her shrine, and judging by its fidgeting and shifting towards the gate from whence it had come, wanted to be gone quickly. She couldn't let it leave empty-handed; that would be shirking her duty. So, reaching into the voluminous folds of her long white sleeve, she withdrew a small strip of dried meat, one of many such small treats she carried with her at all times in case she encountered one of the smaller, wilder youkai on her walks. It wasn't much, but it was the best offering she happened to have on hand at the moment, and a meager gift was better than giving nothing at all. Kneeling down upon the cobblestones, she placed it before the fox, bowing deeply.

"You have my utmost gratitude for bringing me this warning. I will -- The village of Heiseina will do everything in our power to mend that which was broken, and protect the sanctity of this place and this shrine from whatever may come. Please continue to watch over us, as you always have."

She did not dare to raise her head while uttering this prayer, for she knew that everything she said now would be heard not only by Miorochi-sama, the kami of the shrine, but also ultimately perhaps even by Inari-sama, the great kami of providence and fortune who had sent this messenger to her. She chose her words and her manner of speaking, then, as if she was addressing both in person. To even speak to them this directly already verged on overstepping her mortal authority, but even so, when one was granted a boon, one was expected to return their gratitude.

After she finished speaking, however, she was left at a momentary impasse. Namely... when would it be proper to raise her head? She didn't hear the fox moving at all, and couldn't tell whether or not it had accepted her gift. She had expected to hear paws upon the cobblestones, or some kind of signal... but what she actually heard was a loud meowing, followed by a muffled exclamation from down the stairs and the sound of something - or rather, someone - tumbling to the ground. Opening her eyes and raising her head, she found that the fox had disappeared without a trace, taking the meat she'd offered with it. Well, at least her return gift had been accepted... No, but now wasn't the time for that! Someone had just fallen on the stairs, and it sounded like they were hurt. Quickly rising and stuffing the scroll into her sleeve, she rushed under the cracked and faded red torii gate and looked down from the top of the stairs to find her unexpected visitor, lying against the stones just a few steps shy of the top of the hill. As she met his gaze from under her hood, recognition flashed across her face, followed by an intense worry slipping into her bright blue eyes.

"E-eh? Masaki-sensei? Oh, dear...!" Hastily descending the stairs, she knelt down, first retrieving his crutch, then extending a small, pale hand to help him up and speaking a flurry of questions, evidently looking him over for any scrapes, cuts, or bruises. "Are you alright? Did you hit your head? Please, allow me to help you stand."

Tsubasa's initial joy at Keiko's acceptance quickly turned to confusion. He did what to his shirt? Looking down at himself, he supposed she had reason to make her comment. Then again, he was so used to it that he didn't even bother noticing until it was pointed out. That wouldn't do at all, especially since Keiko was already clean and dressed and ready to go. Maybe they could continue the conversation as well, and he could get to the bottom of her sidestepping his other comment.

"You're right, it'll be on me, then. I promise I'll put on something clean, too, of course," He laughed, wiping his brow again. He was about to ask if she was willing to give him a few minutes to clean up before someone else approached the forge.

The arrival of Fumiko was a surprise--he was visited by two people today!--and he straightened up a touch as she spoke. It was nice to hear Hayashi was going to be performing again this year, though he was a little surprised to hear that Fumiko was helping her out. Then again, Fumiko did like to do things around the village, same as he whenever he had the time. It was also nice to see the community come together to help one another, so maybe he shouldn't be too surprised.

Before he could respond, Keiko replied to Fumiko first. Ah, she called him Tsu, that's so cute! Did she finally accept his own nickname for her? It did make him a little happy, though he was confused as she looped her arm around his. Wasn't she just complaining about how sweaty he was?

As she gazed up at him, he shrugged. "We could go help them out, then come back here and get ready before we enjoy ourselves?" He asked her. "If it's okay with you, Kei-chan."

It was still dark when Mio stepped out of the house, small box in hand. She had been quiet, surreptitious, so as not to wake her parents, but as she shut the door behind her, she realized she was not alone on the porch.

Her father sat in an old chair, pipe between his lips. The frayed awning cast him in shadows, but when he puffed, the tiny flare of embers showed his eyes. They were tired, and unkind, and looked away before the scant light vanished. He didn’t hide from her like her mother did; sometimes he would even put himself in her way, like now, as if to prove that he was not afraid of his own daughter. She hoped he was convinced.

“Good morning,” she said, like he was still asleep and she was still trying not to wake him.

“What is that?” he asked, gesturing to the little box she held.

“An offering.”

He puffed again, the glint saw his eyes downcast. “Why?”

The solemnity in his tone was biting. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly brave, he could wind himself saying things he knew would hurt her—it wasn’t a very difficult task. Today though, all he did was say what was on her own mind, and it was enough. Why, indeed.

She set the box down on the porch and left for town without saying goodbye.

---

The smithy smelled like booze, and looked like how she imagined the Crane’s Roost did after a busy night. Master Tetsu must have gone a little deeper into the bottle than usual, or perhaps he was just particularly happy about something. Either way, it wasn’t the first time, or the worst.

Mio picked a cup off the ground, shook it, sniffed it, and reeled from strong stench of the sake left over. She tossed its contents into the forge, and the fire drank it gratefully. She shrugged her coat off and got to work while budding warmth spread throughout the room. It wasn’t unusual for her to be this early, cleaning the shop and prepping the forge before Tsubasa and—if sobriety was in season—master Tetsu arrived.

When it was done, and the smithy smelled more like fire than spirit, she turned her attention to the tasks of the day. The forge was usually very communal, nothing segregated or cordoned off to any of them. Even still, Mio tended to work in the back, out of sight. It was stuffier and the soot clung to her more readily, but, it was for the best.

An assortment of items lay on the table, some large as farm tools, some small as door hinges, all broken in some fashion or another. Layovers from the previous days—things seemed to break so much more often this time of year. She’d Mend as many as she could before Tsubasa arrived, so he could focus on the real work. There was no shame in repairs of course, in fact, she found a sort of calmness in putting things back together, but Tsubasa was such a helpful sort and she knew if he saw a pile like this he’d throw himself at it with her, then he wouldn’t get to spend nearly as much time making things. He was quite good at that.

So she worked diligently until the sun was up, and when Tsubasa did finally arrive, the broken things were, for the most part, now fixed things. He got to work almost immediately. It was nice having him in; he worked right up front with the forge, in the open air, and passersby seemed happy for it. He was popular, and no one thought twice about entrusting him with their orders. She smiled whenever she heard him talking to someone—the conversations were always pleasant and if she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was part of them.

Today, of course, was different.

“You lookin' for someone, pretty boy?”

Mio reflexively began counting down from ten. She shirked into the dusty darkness as she heard Keiko hop onto the table, and said a silent prayer to the kami that she’d gone unnoticed. Then, because the kami were evidently insulted that she’d reached out, they were soon joined by Takamori’s niece, Fumiko. Perhaps the village master himself would make an appearance, and she’d finally find the resolve to throw herself into the forge.

She didn’t understand most of what they said, ears clogged with the sounds of the fire, mind an anxious haze. However, she did catch that Tsubasa was being beckoned away. Guiltily, she was relieved—so long as he took the girls with him. She had no place being anywhere near the Takamori family, and Keiko made her feel spiritually unwell.

No one was likely to bring by any new orders with only Mio there, but, on the bright side, at least that meant Tsubasa wouldn’t be missing anything. She saw the work he’d left by the forge, maybe she could help him out with that while he was gone.

---

The dark-haired woman breathed a faint sigh of relief as Kenichi managed to haul himself to his feet. He seemed to be alright, despite what looked to have been a rather nasty fall. Lending her shoulder and a hand, she allowed herself to serve as a makeshift support until he was fully upright and balanced again, then gingerly handed over his crutch once he had the space and the footing to properly make use of it.

Hearing his answer, she breathed a faint, somewhat disappointed sigh. A cat, was it? There were quite a few bakeneko who liked to frolic around the hillside near the shrine, enticed by the food offerings she frequently left for them. Unfortunately, they didn't always respect good manners when there wasn't someone around who could keep them in line, and ever since her mentor had passed away, they'd grown quite ornery and sometimes even downright mean. While the agreement between the townsfolk and the youkai of the valley still stood - or at least, still should have stood - they tended to play some rather cruel jokes on villagers when nobody else was watching.

"I'm terribly sorry. I'll properly scold them for you," She lowered her head, giving a series of brisk, rather embarrassed bows. After all, if she was more like a proper shrine maiden -- proper enough to earn their respect -- then surely he wouldn't have been inconvenienced or hurt in such a manner. Far from being able to get their help in the matter entrusted to her by Inari-sama's messenger, she couldn't even keep them from pranking the shrine's visitors.

...Hm? But wait a moment. Even if they didn't respect her, wouldn't the bakeneko have been able to sense the presence of such a powerful spirit just now? The lesser Youkai might have only grudgingly acceded to the contract, but they should have still respected the authority of such an important emissary enough not to cause trouble in its vicinity...

This line of thought was distracted, however, by the apology of the man in front of her, one which puzzled her for an entirely different reason.

"Ah, no, please, raise your head! There's no need for you to apologize! It's no inconvenience at all, I was simply surprised that someone came to visit so early! I'm terribly sorry for not being able to offer you a more proper welcome -- and that such a thing happened under my watch. As I said, I'll be sure to scold them for you, so --" She quickly tried to reassure him, but just as quickly fell into apologizing herself. He was acting as if it was his fault for falling, or his fault for even being there -- but really, wasn't it hers? Her own negligence must have led to this, and now he felt uncomfortable, here in this place where all should have been welcome.

And yet, even so, as he continued, why was it that her heart felt so warm?

Before she knew it, Oyuki found herself distracted out of her overwhelming worry by just how unexpected it was to receive such kindness unasked. Most of the villagers had little to do with her outside of problems with the local youkai or commissions for her sewing work, after all -- and for the most part, she had just as little to do with them. If there was a problem, she'd address it herself sooner than troubling anyone else for their assistance, and of course, her duties preparing for the festival were no different.

It had always been this way. Since she was being relied upon to prepare the shrine for the festivities and to ensure everything went smoothly, she would just have to make more time to ensure that she could fulfill those expectations -- even if it meant beginning her work days or weeks in advance. It was always hard, and tiring, and sometimes even frustrating to the point that she was glad when it was over. And yet, seeing the warmth on the faces of the visitors to her shrine, even if she didn't have a place among them, always made her feel like it had been worth her while.

...And yet now, that same warmth was being directed at her. "For all the work you do here at the shrine," he had said. He had noticed. He acknowledged her effort, and was glad because of it. Before she knew it, a small smile had reached her lips, though it was just as quickly hidden as she lowered her head in a gracious bow, hiding her partially-reddened face beneath the brim of her hood.

This time, when she went to speak, she found that the words came easily -- so much so that she marveled at how uneasy she had been just moments before. It was like all the fear and self-doubt that had struck her so suddenly had just as quickly vanished into the winds.

"You have my sincerest gratitude. It's... very thoughtful of you to go so far out of your way for my sake -- particularly when you no doubt have many pressing duties of your own," She said, gingerly accepting the small teabag. "The chilly season hasn't quite gone away, after all, and I'm sure there are many who want for your services."

Right. This was just another one of his duties, just as tending to the shrine and the affairs of the Kami were hers. In his own way, he, too, had to look out for the people of the village. And if the contract was broken, then he, too, would surely...

It was then that suddenly, her many questions received an answer -- one that seemed obvious in hindsight, but somehow had eluded her completely until this very moment. It was simple. The reason the bakeneko had been so brazen, even in the presence of Inari-sama's envoy, wasn't because it hadn't realized; it was because this was the way things were meant to be.

While she hated troubling others on account of her own incompetence, that was one thing -- the will of the Kami was another. They had entrusted this matter to Oyuki, true; but they had also never once said that she had to deal with it alone.

If there was one person whose discretion and dedication she could trust absolutely, it was the doctor. Of course, it wouldn't do for her to go sowing panic until she knew more about what was happening -- but at the same time, the matters which had just been revealed to her would certainly concern him as well. And, where the safety of the entire village was concerned...

Elder Takamori. She needed to see Elder Takamori. If anyone would know what the meaning of this message was, and what needed to be done, it would be him. And if anyone could help her with whatever came after that, then it would be...

Oyuki's eyebrows shot up, eyes widening for just a moment in realization. Then, her face softened, and a sense of calm washed over her features. She raised her head, and for the first time, her hood slipped back in the chilly breeze that swept over the hilltop, revealing strands of raven black hair, and pale cerulean eyes that suddenly seemed to be filled with conviction.

"Masaki-sensei," She began suddenly, the words spilling out before her resolve had time to waver. "I'm terribly sorry for asking this so suddenly -- especially when you've already come all this way for my sake, but... truth be told, there is an important matter I need to attend to, and though it shames me to admit it... I believe my own skills may be inadequate to resolve it. Would you be willing to spare some time to accompany me into town?"

Years spent alone, meditating, learning how to block out all external agitators so that she could focus on the internal ones, had leant Mio the ability to wrestle even great duress into stillness. In the work of a few moments, her heart was steady, her breathing was even, and her hand clutched the hammer in a white-knuckle grip but, well, it wasn’t shaking. Little steps.

The downside to such intense focus was fairly obvious. She had somehow managed to miss one of the loudest presences in the valley until it was quite literally tapping her on the shoulder. It was only due to so many years of intense discipline that she did not jump like a startled cat, or shriek like she was eleven years old. Instead, with a small jolt, she released the deathly grip on her hammer and turned around.

Her little corner was smoggy and dark, and what firelight reached her did not lend her a gentle appearance. She was a hulking shadow smeared with soot and sweat, and she would not have held it against Akiyama Haruhi if she turned tail and ran away.

Instead, the girl thrust out the broken blade of a farming tool and smiled like she couldn’t see her.

“I hit it on a rock!”

Mio took the hoe from her gently, inspecting it up close. Snapped at the socket, and not a clean break either. The thing was utterly mangled.

“So you did,” she agreed.

Most people weren’t happy when they needed something fixed, which, frankly, made them easier to deal with; she couldn’t ruin someone’s day if it was already ruined. Haruhi, however, seemed incapable of bad moods, and if she hadn’t always been that way, Mio would have suspected she was playing some kind of Keiko-level joke on her. Instead she was just confused, and it made accepting the girl’s genuine nature difficult. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the longer it took, the further it had to fall.

Realizing she was staring, Mio cleared her throat and turned back to her table. She tried not to make eye-contact often—people told her it made them uncomfortable. Even if she didn’t quite trust Haruhi’s kindness, she didn’t want to repay it by being unsettling.

“Well, lets see,” she said, sifting through the small stack of craft and repair orders she’d yet to get to. Those, combined with helping out with whatever Tsubasa was working on, would probably see this delayed to the evening.

Ah, but, this was different, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a busted doorknob or a cracked spare axle. The Akiyamas were farmers, their tools helped keep the village fed. Haruhi especially would need hers, considering her bizarre aversion to Signs. Putting something like this off would be…well, it would be irresponsible.

With a nod she said, “Just one moment,” and cleared a space on the table, before setting the hoe down. After Mending so much that morning, she had planned to handle the rest of the day’s orders by hand, but, with the break being how it was, she wasn’t confident in a slap-fix, and without magic she might have just recommended the girl buy a new tool altogether. What else were Signs for?

So, she took the snapped blade and shaft in one hand, closing her fingers around them so that they appeared as a single unbroken piece. With her other hand she made the familiar Mending Sign, and under her breath she muttered its words. A faint glow, not unlike the waking stokes of the forge, emanated from her palm, seeping deeply into the metal. She kept her focus, tried not to think about the girl who had taught her this Sign being so close by, and squeezed her hand tight around the tool. Jagged metal poked her skin, but she’d been a blacksmith for almost ten years, it would take more than that to draw blood from her hands.

Eventually she let go, and allowed herself a small smile at her work. Small, and brief, and gone when she turned back to Haruhi and held out the tool with both hands and a bow, now perfectly whole.

“I believe this will do,” she said, eyes still downturned. Part of her was tempted to ask she be more careful in the future, but not only did the idea of advising others horrify her, this hadn’t been a terribly difficult task. Besides, a little break from the monotony now and then didn’t hurt.

Instead she said, “Thank you,” which felt somehow worse and more awkward. Thank her for what? “For…the work,” she finished. Yes, much better now.

---

Interactions: Haruhi @Lemons

The beauty and curse of living in such a small, tightly-knit community was that everyone knew everyone, and hardly anyone got away with anything, especially skipping out on payments. Of course, that wasn’t to say there was any unpleasantness about it; the reality was much simpler—people took their business on faith. Why hold someone’s feet over the fire for forgetting their purse, when you could be safely sure they’d get you what you were owed right away, or at least the next time they saw you. Mio couldn’t recall the last time there’d been any serious disputes over something like that, and certainly not at the smithy.

This wasn’t the first time Haruhi had downpaid with faith, and she always delivered, often with edible insurance. In her experience it was always well worth the trade, and Mio wondered if she pulled them from her own plot, unaided with Signs.

She would have been happy to take down a small estimate to clear with master Tetsu—chipping off a bit to account for the leeks and such—and leave it at that. But Haruhi mentioned the festival and, despite that she was literally sweating, she shivered.

“Ah, no…” she said. “I won’t be.”

It had been almost ten years since she had. She spent them at the forge, mostly, since her home was too close to the woods to be comfortable on nights meant to venerate the kami. Besides, a time for the celebration of new beginnings, of mending broken relations—she was ashamed to admit it made her just a bit bitter, which was healthy for no one. And who wanted someone like her lumbering around, blocking the spectacles? No, she’d do better here, quietly handling whatever orders came in. With so much going on, something was bound to need fixing.

Speaking of.

She resisted the urge to smile. People seemed to like that even less than when she looked them in the eyes, and she didn’t want to make Haruhi uncomfortable.

“It was a simple fix. I could speak to master Tetsu but I suspect he’ll waive it,” she said, changing the topic. “We’ll be square when the leeks come in. Is that alright?”

---

Interactions: Haruhi @Lemons

---

If words were capable of striking a blow and sending one off their feet, the young Takamori knew she'd be sitting stunned on the floor of the smithy by now. For the briefest of moments, as Keiko let loose her plan, Fumiko's expression shifted to one of utter shock and... hurt. She watched as Keiko slid her arm to interlock with Tsubasa's and as she leaned into him while she spoke in a cheery tone. Surely... surely she was showing off at this point, flaunting to Fumiko that the Takamori had lost in a race for a man's attention that she hadn't even fully known she was in. Sure, Fumiko knew she wanted to be closer to Tsubasa, but not a single part of her mind had even paused to truly think about what that meant. Nor that somebody else might beat her to him. That smug little grin on Keiko's features did not go unnoticed, hammering home that she was showing off and staking her claim. A move that earned Keiko a decidedly hostile look for the briefest of moments from Fumiko.

That stupid little...

Fumiko's darker turn seemed interrupted a split second later as she stunned herself with the beginning of such thoughts. What was wrong with her? Why did she care so much that Keiko was going with Tsubasa? That'd she'd get to spend the night hanging on his arm. Enjoying his comfort, his attention on her. That she'd get to learn more about the man, spend time growing closer and gazing upon his handsome features? All while Fumi would be forced to watch from the sidelines. Why did that bother her so? Why did it feel like she was a child again, watching one of her relatives getting to go play amongst the village? Why did it feel like she was being left behind, and that bothered her so? Like she was jealous over another winning something she wanted so dearly?

Jealous. Desire. Oh...

The realization hit Fumiko like a blow to the chest. She was jealous of Keiko. She was jealous because she desperately wanted to be the one hanging on Tsubasa's arm, the object of his affections. So this is what Sumi-chan noticed earlier... The Takamori thought to herself, before realizing she'd somewhat lost herself in her thoughts and missed the arrival of Haruhi entirely before the energetic girl had already moved on into the forge. A hint of color appeared on her cheeks from the embarrassment of such a slip. She needed to be better than that. To control her own emotions and feelings more, else how else could she properly serve her village if she got irate so easily? With a small note to later talk to her Uncle about such things, Fumiko set to work burying the emotions deep within so she could focus back on the task at hand.

Even if she was burying in a gaping pit in her stomach that'd formed after seeing Keiko's clear connection with Tsubasa.

Her features returning to that much-more serene and welcoming expression she usually wore, Fumiko offered a polite bow to both Tsubasa and Keiko. "Thank you, Senga-San, Seimei-San." Fumiko said with a warm smile on her features. "Hayashi-San and I will certainly appreciate the extra hands. Shall we head off?" Fumiko said softly, offering a forced-yet-warm smile.

---

Interactions: Seimei Keiko @Asura, Senga Tsubasa @Hero

Takamori Kenji sat on his knees before his hearth, a kettle suspended on an iron hook over the open flames. He pulled his haori tighter around his chest. The morning was far too cold for his liking, especially this late into the new year. Another ill omen to add to the other, he knew. The size of the Takamori estate did little to help things: the first floor was a large, open space, as was traditional of the oldest homes in Heiseina. Paper screen dividers on rolling racks could be put up to split the chamber into multiple, smaller rooms, providing privacy for those who wanted it. Kenji had drawn the screens closed around the central hearth in the hopes that they would keep in the heat. It was better than nothing, he thought with a sigh, watching the shadows from the fire dance on the partitions. The light danced on the painted paper, accentuating scenes from Heiseina's history.

One painting showed the founding of the village, with the first Takamori patriarch kneeling before Miorochi and five other gods at the foot of the shrine. On another, the legendary swordsmiths of the Takahashi family fashion the Takamori blade from sacred dragon scales. Running along the bottom of every dividers was the Shimmering River, its life-giving waters filled with fishermen, kappa and villagers washing their clothes or simply swimming away the hot summer days. Along the top was an image of Miorochi soaring through the clouds, his body so long that he wrapped all the way around the dividers so that his nose met his tail.

The last piece wasn't as tasteful as the others. Depicted on the off-white paper screen were a dozen swords thrust into the earth before a shadowed, bottomless pit. Standing on one side of the pit was the grandfather of Kenji's grandfather, family sword sheathed at his hip. He held an accusing finger toward a man on the opposite side of the pit. The other man was on his knees, hands wrapped around the hilt of one of the earth-bound swords as he tried in vain to pull it from the dirt.

Fujiwara Ichiro had made his opinion on the art clear many times over the years. Kenji understood why he took offense. If the original piece wasn't over two and a half centuries old he would've considered replacing it or taking the shoji down. It was not his place to paint over his family's history, even its darkest times; he was merely its conservator.

It was all of excellent quality, he had to admit. He noted a few places where the paint had chipped or dulled from age. He would need to have someone touch it up. Perhaps he could ask Hayashi once the week was up. It would be better to have it done before then, of course, but it would be cruel to drag her away from the festivities. This was one of the few times in the year that the young could truly relax and enjoy themselves. The shoji had waited this long- it could wait a little while longer.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation before the burning coals, he lifted the kettle off its hook and poured himself a cup. The near-scolding tea helped to fight off the chill, at least.

His gaze shifted across the room to the ornate wooden stand where the Takamori sword rested. Its sheathe was bone white wood ornamented with teal-blue streams of water flowing the length of the sheathe. Kenji wondered if that ancient weapon could possibly still hold its edge. That was the legend he'd learned since he was just a boy on his father's knee. Dragonscale would be sharp a thousand years from now, and a thousand years from then. It did not rust or decay, as metal or mundane animal hide might. It was an odd gift the kami had given them. Why would the thing to seal a pact of nonviolence be a weapon- and one so potent? Kenji's father, Senshi, had always insisted it was not their duty to wonder about the kami's will. Theirs was merely to honor it until the end of days.

"Pardon me, master." A familiar, nasally voice dragged his attention back to the world around him. The source of the soft-spoken words had pushed one of the paper partitions aside and gave a deep bow of respect. It was Takamori Yoshie, one of Kenji's great nephews. The boy was here to provide any assistance Kenji may need throughout the day while Fumiko was out readying things for the festival. He was a few years older than Fumiko though he stood perhaps an inch and a half shorter than she did. The boy was as handsome as his father had been when he was the same age. Yoshie's smile was polite yet it did not reach his eyes- they were as cold as stones, ever evaluating and studying. They reminded Kenji of what a hawk looked like when it was hunting.

"Yes?" Kenji returned the smile with one of his own, broad and deep and filled with love. He loved his nephew as if Yoshie was Kenji's own son. Or grandson, he supposed with a grimace. He was getting too old.

"We have visitors. Would you like me to invite them in?"

Kenji gave several slow, deliberate nods. "Of course. And get me a few more cups, one for yourself as well. There won't be anyone in this house who doesn't have tea to warm themselves in this terrible cold."

---

The journey down the shrine steps was normally a short one -- but in consideration for the labor her unfortunate guest had no doubt taken to scale the hillside in the first place, the return journey was conducted very slowly and deliberately. Even so, the village streets were quiet and relatively devoid of bustle by the time the amateur shrine maiden and hobbling doctor arrived before the elder's household. Even at such a busy time of year, few people wanted to be out and about when it was still so unseasonably chilly.

...Would that the cold was the only thing they had to worry about. Oyuki had tried on several occasions to make small talk with her no-doubt perplexed companion, but now even moreso than ever, she just couldn't find the words. The weather was unfavorable and inauspicious, and she was not quite so out of touch with the rumors spoken of her in the village as not to realize that there were those who held her responsible. Some comments about the chilly wind quickly gave way to the usual apologies, leading her to try a different tack.

Next she had tried speaking about the festival -- but that all-too-quickly reminded her of how inadequate she had been in performing the previous year's ceremonies. Another apology quickly rose to her lips, and this line of conversation, too, died out. Yet even so, Masaki-sensei had accompanied her without complaint -- despite her complete inadequacy as a conversationalist, and her uneasy reticence regarding the exact nature of the assistance she required. Surely, he must have been growing irritated by now -- she had forced him to trudge all this way on his weary legs, and had yet to offer even the slightest bit of an explanation.

By the time they reached the elder's manor, and the elder's nephew had gone inside to inform his uncle of their visit, she was already apologizing for a third time.

"I'm so sorry to take up so much of your time. It's just... this is a matter of no small importance, and I believe your insight on the subject will be just as valuable as Elder Takamori's..."

She could only pray that the elder was not otherwise engaged. If only he could see them quickly, and she could begin finding answers to the strange and terrifying questions that the fox's warning had stirred in her mind... If only everything could be resolved, and go back to normal before the dire prophecy which she had been entrusted with came to pass...