Of the ones that came before
A wail breaks through the murmur in the courtyard, and all heads lift to cast eyes upon closed sliding doors. A man, pacing at the front of the crowd before the doors, paused. With a resounding clack, the doors slid open, and a servant made her way out and bowed deeply to the people waiting outside.
“Congratulation, your highness, the princess and her mother are both healthy,” she announced.
“Congratulation, your highness!” the rest of the servants echoed, bowing down as the servant stepped aside to let the man pass.
The cries of the infant had died down, and he could hear his wife chuckle. Without delay, he entered with a bright smile. “Well done, dear,” he murmured, caressing his wife’s face and pulling her in for a light kiss.
“What should we name her?” she whispered, rocking her swaddled baby gently as the infant cooed.
“Hisako,” he replied without hesitation.
She mouthed the name a few times before smiling, leaning back against him and resting her head on his shoulders tiredly. “Hisako, yes, that sounds perfect.” He chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest.
“I’m pleased it’s to your liking.” Gently, he eased her back down and pulled up the blankets, waving away the servants who rushed forwards to help. “Rest now, I’ll be here.”
“Always so sweet,” she laughed, as he lay next to her uncaring of the hard floor. She let herself drift off, at ease.
Outside, the servants returned to their quarters, not noticing the stark silence of the night. Not a single creature shifted in the trees or bushes, nor did any chirp in the shadows. The world stood still with bated breath, as something shifted in the roots of nature itself.
Far off on the edges of the Land of Fire, a toddler with bright red eyes and pale white hair paused alongside his brother. He stared unerringly to the North-East, as the night fell silent. Far off where the Land of Fire met the raging seas, another child raised her eyes to the North-West, flaming red hair catching in moonbeams. Then, with a quiet rush of wind - the world continued.
And so, on a waning moon and a quiet night, Hisako Hideyoshi was born.
***
Hisako pulled her face into a frown, blinking her eyelashes and opening her eyes wide and shuffling her feet. The maid groaned, closing her eyes and turning her head away. “No, my lady, if I give you any more I’ll definitely be scolded.”
“Just one more,” the child pleaded, drawing out the words and raising her palms plaintively. Nope, Yumi was definitely not looking at The Eyes, definitely-
Ah well, it was hopeless anyway.
“Absolutely the last one.” She placed the pastry in Hisako’s outstretched hands and sighed when the child instantly ran off squealing. The power that the child held over them with her cute charm was astounding. Turning her attention back to the fire, she went back to work.
Hisako held her treasure delicately, trying not to waste a single pastry crumb as she headed to the gardens. “I got one!” she shouted excitedly.
“Slow down miss!” called her maid, hurrying behind her with her robes lifted to free her movements more. Hisako cackled (a very unladylike thing to do according to her mother), and ran faster. She headed to the pavilion, a small, quiet area in the garden with a table and stools for relaxing.
“Anija!” She slid to a stop, precariously holding her cargo - which definitely has lost a few small chunks - and brandished it proudly before her sibling. He paused, a white Go tile between his fingers. The servants attending him and his chess opponent bow lowly, with the maids curtseying and bowing their heads in greeting as she arrived.
“Ah, what did I say?” he sighed, “the maids just can’t resist her.”
His companion stood and bowed slightly. “Hisako-sama,” he greeted with a small wink. “Glad to see your charm is being put to good use.”
“Don’t encourage her, Takeshi,” her brother sighed, placing down his piece. “She picks up habits remarkably fast right now.”
“Takeshi-niisama, do you want some?” Hisako offered. Though his mother, Tomoe, was a concubine, she got along well with Hisako’s mother. She’s even heard her father complain about how they always go out without him to see the markets. Thanks to their mothers’ relationships, her relationship with her brother was similarly not strained.
“What about me, Hisako-chan?” her brother gasped. She huffed and turned her head away.
“Takeshi-niisama is more fun.” She clambered up onto a spare stool, waving away her maid’s assistance, and planted her elbows on the table. Her brother chuckled as her maid sighed quietly and moved to the side of the pavilion with the other servants.
“Don’t worry, Mio-san, I’m sure Hisako’s etiquette will improve when she’s older.” He ruffled the three-year-old’s hair, grinning when she pouted and glared up at him - hair askew and frizzy.
“This,” she declared, tipping her chin up haughtily (or as haughty as a three-year-old can get), “is why Takeshi-niisama is better.”
Her second-eldest brother smirked as he studied the board. “Of course, Anija should learn from me.”
“Mhm, just as you should learn Go from me.”
Takeshi squawked indignantly. “I’m doing fine!” He frowned and studied the board intently. “At least I think I am.’
Hisako nibbled on her pastry, savoring the sweetness and ignoring her brothers’ antics. She looked up as a servant moved forward from the edges. He leaned down and whispered quietly to Anija.
“Hirota-sama, your meeting with Hideaki-denka will be soon.” After delivering the reminder, he bowed and retreated back.
“A meeting with Chichi-ue?” Takeshi asked, distracted and looking up from the board.
Hirota hummed, placing down another piece. “Now that I’ve the wonderful age of twelve, Chichi-ue wants me to start managing some parts of the estate.
Interested, Hisako stuffed the last bit of pastry into her mouth and leaned forwards to listen. The sun slipped through the columns of the pavilion, bathing the three children in sunlight. Warm and content, she lay her head down on her arms and let her brothers’ voices flow over her like water trickling in the small stream in their garden.
Her father didn’t like discussing politics over dinner, partly because her mother always hated it and partly because some things were confidential. Either way, Hisako disliked anything to do with it. She’d take discussing the weather or even listen to her siblings bicker over it any day.
“Hisa-chan,” Hirota called, beckoning her over. She shuffled out of her seat, dodging Mio’s attempts to fix her clothing, and crawled onto her brother’s lap. He laughed as he hoisted her up and brushed crumbs from the corner of her mouth.
“Take over for me,” he said with a wink. Leaning down, he added, “just place one in the corner and then one at the top.”
Takeshi narrowed his eyes, hands thumping on the table and head so close to the board he was almost touching the pieces. Patting him on the shoulder, Hirota dusted off his robes and strode away. His attendant left with him.
“Takeshi-niisama!” Hisoka exclaimed. “If I win you have to take me to the markets!”
Her brother’s eyes twitched, and he slumped back into his seat bonelessly, staring at the ceiling in despair. “Hisako-sama,” he sighed, “you would be a great politician.”
“I would not,” she huffed, placing down the smooth tile exactly where Hirota had said and smiling when Takeshi deflated further. “They’re all very shy.”
“Shy?” Takeshi echoed, eyebrow raised. “Do you mean sly?”
Hisako flushed, cheeks turning cherry-red and cheeks puffing like a squirrel with a full cargo. “Of course not!” Takeshi burst out laughing, making her huff even more. He ruffled her hair heedless of her attempts to avoid his hand.
“I see,” he nodded. “Well, given it’s my loss, I suppose we will just have to go on a little excursion.”
“Yes! Tomorrow! In the afternoon!”
“What a terribly specific time…” he murmured, a finger touching his chin in thought. “Hisako-sama are you avoiding your lessons?”
She fiddled with a Go piece, looking down at her hands in sudden interest. “N-no.”
“Does Hisako-sama have any lessons then?” he asked Mio, voice deceivingly light.
The maid thought about it for a moment, running through the schedule. “Ah, she has embroidery at noon,” she confirmed. Hisako flinched at the mention. The sound of the Go piece falling onto lacquered wood rang through the pavilion. Hisako tried to shrink even smaller, regretting her decision to ask her brother to go out.
“Hisako-sama,” he said, leaning down so they were the same height. She looked away, not wanting to see his expression. She could feel tears already threatening. I will not cry, she thought resolutely.
He held her hands, waiting until her head started to feel sore and she grudgingly turned back to him. Her dark brown eyes met his soft brown ones, and unbidden, she felt the prickle of tears. The world blurred, colors mixing and melding in a swirling mess despite her frantic blinking.
“I don’t want,” she cried, “I don’t want to go to embroidery lessons.”
Takeshi flailed, taking a handkerchief from Mio and dabbing her face with a bewildered look that was slowly turning more and more concerned. “What’s the matter? Hisa-chan you can tell me anything.”
She sniffled, looking at him in suspicion through her lashes. “It’s silly,” she said, “and childish.” Takeshi stifled a laugh, coughing into his hand. He smoothed her hair.
“Hisako-sama, you are a child.”
She frowned. “I’m not! Hana-sensei says I need to be grown-up. Otherwise, it’s embarrassing.” She trailed off at the end, giving up on the fight against her tears and letting them fall freely. “She always says I’m a disappointment.”
She squealed, Takeshi lifting her with ease and swinging her into his arms. “I’m going to kill her,” he declared with a broad smile.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Mio agreed.
Hisako drifted off, clutching Takeshi’s robes as tight as she could and her head aching from crying. She felt Mio take her from her brother, hands gentle to avoid jostling her and let them think she was still asleep.
Hisako woke in her own bed, duvets pulled to her chin and her stuffed toy nestled in her arms. She must have fallen asleep at some point. Pulling the blankets off, she slipped off the bed and into her slippers.
The room was empty and she could see the soft glow of dusk through the window. It shouldn’t be too late, otherwise, Mio would have called her for dinner. Her eyes felt puffy. Hisako sighed, rubbing her eyes, and felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Why did she even bring up Hana-sensei? She should have known it wouldn’t end well.
Trying to forget about what happened, she walked to the door, ready to go eat. Maybe if she acted as if nothing happened no one else would mention it either.
Maybe.
Her father was livid.
She could almost feel his anger coalescing around her like a sheet of smoke, pouring from him in waves. Her mother too was steel-cold, her dark brown eyes devoid of their usual warmth. Of course, when Hisako walked in, they softened, and she ushered her into her arms without a word.
The tears were treacherously close again, and she stamped them down without mercy. Emiko, her older sister, began placing fish in her bowl. Glancing past her mother’s arms at her sister, she saw that, yep, Emiko was fuming as well. Hisako suppressed a small shudder and kept her eyes down.
She dug into the food slowly, stabbing at it with her chopsticks and trying not to send rice flying. They dined in silence. Was she in trouble? It wasn’t impossible - she had yet to figure out exactly what was toeing the line and what crossed it entirely.
If her father was angry, then she would have to not only go to embroidery lessons but also make amends. Which she absolutely did not want to do. The appealing smell of seared fish didn’t seem as appetizing anymore. She picked at it regardless, not wanting to draw more attention to herself.
“Hisako,” her father said, placing down his chopsticks and reaching for his soup. “I hear you’re embroidery teacher is…less than satisfactory.”
Her mind went blank. Faint panic seeped through, and she stumbled over her reply. “Y-yes, otou-sama. Hana-sensei is…” mean she wanted to finish, but that sounded so childish she cringed from it. She’d used it once, with Hana-sensei, and her hands had been throbbing after the lecture.
“Proper nobles don’t say words like ‘mean’, Hisako-sama,” she had said, a frown on her face and lips twisted in a sneer. “I’m not your etiquette teacher but even I don’t have the heart to let this slide.”
“...difficult,” she finished.
Her family fell silent, except for Takeshi who continued to chew his way through the vegetables and reach for more fish too, and for a moment she felt panic take a stronger hold. But her father laughed, a low rumbling noise that took away the tension in the room.
“Difficult, huh,” he sighed. “Well, we can’t have any difficult teachers in our household.” Hisako ducked her head when he winked at her. “Takeshi tells me you’ve roped him into going out with you to the markets.”
“She’s a smart one, our Hisako-sama,” Takeshi agreed through a mouthful of fish. His mother, Tomoe, slaps him on the arm from where she’s sitting beside him.
“Swallow before speaking,” Hisako hears her hiss, giving her mother a shared and subtle eye-roll.
“Hirota is free in the afternoon too,” her father continued. “You three can go enjoy yourselves together.”
Her brother beamed. She could feel him practically glowing with happiness, a color like pink plum petals filling the back of her mind. “Thank you, otou-sama!”
“Don’t thank me yet,” their father chuckled, “I’ll be testing you the day after on what we learned today.” She saw him hide a smile behind his cup as her brother groaned.
So, she wasn’t in trouble after all. Maybe Hana-sensei was wrong, as peculiar as it feels. Because Hana-sensei always said she was never wrong, even when Hisako had found a mistake in one of the stitches, or when she had misquoted a poem Hisako knew by heart. Her teacher would always say she was misremembering, and well, why would her teacher lie?
That night, after her mother tucked her into bed and kissed her goodnight (something she hadn’t done in a long time), Hisako pulled out one of the embroidered handkerchiefs Hana-sensei had made. Mio hadn’t come to extinguish the candles yet, and the light danced over the stitches, casting an orange sheen over the threads until the colors were completely different.
She ran a hand over them, feeling the bumps and uneven strands she had always been punished for echoed in her teacher’s works. I guess adults lie too, she thought. She placed the handkerchief back on her shelf but then changed her mind.
When Mio came to blow out the candles, she held the cloth out to her with a smile. “Can you please put this up somewhere in my room?”
If her maid was surprised, she didn’t show it. She folded the handkerchief carefully and tucked it away. “Of course, Hisako-sama, I’ll make sure it’s up by tomorrow.”
She tucked Hisako back into bed, placing the stuffed toy within arm’s reach, and blew out the candles. “Sweet dreams, Hisako-sama.” The room plunged into darkness, and Hisako let the thoughts of market treats whisk her away into sleep.
The next morning, when Mio woke her up to wash up and dress, she spotted the handkerchief framed and placed on her make-up desk. A smile broke across her face. Now, she would never forget what Hana-sensei had taught her.
Adults lie too.
***
Five years later, the markets hadn’t changed one bit.
It was a flurry of activity, dozens of bright lights shining in the back of Hisako’s head. She blinked through them, latching on to everything she saw. A child holding a stick of candied hawthorns and tugging at his mother’s skirt, a beggar holding a scrap of cloth and begging for money, a farmer shouting out the price of his apples. Everything.
When she had first come here, the noise had been overwhelming, and she’d spent much of the time clinging to Mio’s hand and trying to focus on Mio’s light in her head to drown out the others. Now, tuning out the strangers wandering the stalls was much easier, coming more naturally than it used to.
Still, some things remained unchanged. The moment Hisako stepped out of the carriage, Mio grabbed onto her hand. “Don’t stray from me, miss,” she said firmly. Hisako nodded, long given up on convincing Mio she was capable of going on her own.
The guards, dressed in plain clothes to avoid making them too obvious, wandered around like civilians. Her brothers wore finer clothes (not their finest of course), and they flanked her, pointing out shops and dessert stores.
Takeshi took her other hand to Hirota’s displeasure. “Where do you want to go first?” he asked, a spring in his step and a brilliant smile on his face. The sun, peeking through the clouds, lit up the side of his face, highlighting his dimples and changing the brown of his eyes to glowing amber.
“You’re pretty,” she blurted, the thought taking hold from nowhere. A few weeks before, she had tea over at one of her auntie’s estates. Some of the older girls were talking about attractiveness and whatnot. She hadn’t really understood why, but thinking back to their words, she realized that Takeshi fit many of the so-called categories.
Takeshi stumbled, coughing hard. Hirota snorted and choked, leaning into his attendant and gasping for air, shoulders shaking.
“What? Takeshi-niisama is pretty.” Hisako didn’t understand why they reacted so dramatically.
“T-Thank you,” her brother managed, face suspiciously red and still coughing now and then. Somehow, she suspected he didn’t like the compliment. But, she put it out of her mind, distracted by a street vendor making candy figures.
Hisako tugged Mio over to where the man was heating up the syrupy-gold liquid and captivating the watching crowd with his skillful creations. She spotted a phoenix rearing its head and shaking out its wings, feathers lined by thin strands of sugar. Beside it was a dragon, whiskers curling and teeth bared.
There was a constant jangling of coins. “How much?” Hisako asked - money pouch at the ready. Her sister, Emiko, had given it to her a while ago. It was small, made of colorful silk, and she loved it to bits.
She counted out the coins carefully, dropping her hand from Mio’s to do so, and took a smaller bird-shaped figure. As she walked through the crowd, she found herself captivated by the golden eyes of the bird.
They shimmered with the sunlight, slightly melted in the afternoon heat. A symbol of freedom, she thought. She twirled the stick and gave the top of the bird’s head an experimental lick. Sweet sugar coated her tongue. It was as good as she remembered.
Hisako bit out a small piece and let it dissolve on her tongue, tuning back into her surroundings. She reached out a hand to grip the light she had been following. The cloth felt rougher than she expected.
“What do you want, kid?”
She raised her eyes slowly, dread pooling in her stomach. The sugar suddenly felt thick and clammy in her mouth. “U-Um,” she stuttered, “I thought…I thought you were someone else.”
Her voice trailed away at the end, and the man narrowed his eyes. Hisako let her hand drop from his clothes. He had a sword on his hip and faintly wonders if she should run into the crowd and pretend it never happened.
But the man gave a defeated sigh, running a hand over his face. Course, scarred hands took hers before she even had time to protest. He was quite a bit taller though and had to stoop a little to even hold her hand.
Hisako again thought about running, but her feet were rooted to the ground. “Let’s do this,” the strange man huffed, and without much further ado, he hoisted her up by the armpit and swung her onto his shoulders.
She gave a startled yelp, candy slipping out of her grip as she grasped for anything to hold onto. The man grunted as her fingers buried into his hair, his arm snapping out to grab the falling stick of candy.
“S-Sorry,” she gasped out, heart hammering. She took back the candy with trembling fingers, other hand still gripping his hair.
“Less talking, more looking,” was the only reply. She nodded, before remembering he couldn’t see her face.
“Yes sir.”
The man’s light was like a moon amongst stars, shining brighter and larger than everyone else around her. It made looking for her family much harder than usual. Her eyes drifted back to him on their own accord, stunned by the sheer brilliance of his light and the captivating colors.
It was lucky that her family came to her instead. Mio all but fell on her new tour guide in her haste to get to her, the panic in her eyes making Hisako feel guilty. She thought she would be scolded for straying, but instead, Mio just engulfed her in a tight hug, patted her down, and made her promise to stay close this time. It only made her feel worse.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Mio paused in her tracks, smoothing down a stray clump of hair that had come undone during her adventures.
“It’s not your fault, miss,” she said with a smile. “The crowd suddenly surged. And as long as you’re safe, everything’s okay.”
Her brothers echoed her, their relief clear in their eyes when they saw her.
The man watched them, arms folded, and she spotted him turning to leave. “Thank you!” she called, bowing at his back. He didn’t reply, just raised an arm in farewell and continued on his way.
Hisako watched him leave, felt his light fade the further he went, and wondered how many others like him were in the world.
Brilliantly bright amongst ordinary people like her.
***
“What are you doing?” Takeshi asked.
Hisako jumped, hair ornaments shaking. She leaned against the pillar in what she hoped was a casual way. “Um, nothing.”
“You’re spying on Chichi-ue, aren’t you?”
She deflated, knowing it was pointless to try and argue her case against Takeshi’s sharp eyes. “I think we’re going to visit the daimyo,” she whispered. She didn’t expect Takeshi to stiffen, hands tightening into a fist and a flicker of anger in his eyes. “Is that bad?”
She was no fool. She knew that their relationship with the daimyo is strained, given that the daimyo’s eldest son was only two years old while she was now already twelve. Not to mention Hirota, in line for the throne right behind the daimyo’s son, was nearing the age of adulthood, 20.
But still, her curiosity to meet the current leader of their country was eating away at her.
Takeshi didn’t reply. He patted her head, looking lost in thought, and left without even teasing her. Hisako felt an ominous foreboding. It lingered with her long after her father finished his conversation with the official.
“Is the daimyo going to kill us all?” she asked Mio while she was drying her hair.
Her maid froze, not unlike Takeshi. She recovered quickly, continuing to pat down her dark hair with the towel, but Hisako could sense her tension. Her lie, when she replied, “of course not.”
That’s when the concern hit. Because Mio never lied to her. Never. Even when the truth hurt, like when her pet bird fell ill and died, or even when she said something rude and had to write an apology. Mio always spoke the truth.
Except now.
Hisako didn’t question her because her reply had been answering enough. Mio kissed her on the forehead and blew out the candles as she always did, and Hisako lay in silence. Perhaps it was time to delve into her studies more seriously.
Politics would be a good start, she decided. If she was killed, she would like to know why at the very least.
“Hisako-chan, are you excited to meet your uncle?” her father asked with a faux smile.
She beamed at him. “Yes!”
And in a way, she wasn’t lying. She was curious about the daimyo and his toddler heir. She had heard her little cousin was rather cute, and getting close to her imperial uncle wouldn’t be a bad thing. At least that’s what she thought.
Mio was extra careful with her clothing, double and triple-checking her hair ornaments, smoothing down any crinkles in her already-ironed robes, and hovering her like a hawk. It was endearing, but also chewing at her nerves.
“Mio, I’m sure the daimyo won’t have eagle-eyes from his throne,” she assured.
“You’re right,” Mio laughed, “but it’s always good to be careful.” She helped Hisako onto the carriage, closing the door and signaling the driver to start moving.
The carriage was as bumpy as always, and Hisako ran her hands along the soft pillows covering the seats. The daimyo had requested to see her. Alone. That already was a bit odd from what little she knew about customs, and it did little to settle her anxiety.
Takeshi had thrown a fuss about it and Hirota had argued with their father until they both stormed away, red in the face and tea spilled across her father’s table. Nothing could stop the imperial summon though, so here she was dressed in her finest robes and sent away with Mio as her only support.
She tried to distract herself by focusing on the view from the small carriage window. It was her first time traveling as far as the imperial palace.
The first thing she noticed when they neared the palace was the oddly bright lights of some people inside. They were like what she had seen from the man who helped her when she was lost in the markets those years ago. A faint feeling of excitement rose in her.
The guards let them through without a fuss, recognizing the symbol emblazoned on the carriage and the clothing of the guards. Mio helped her down, still wearing the fake smile, but she couldn’t hide the tremors in her hand. Hisako squeezed her hand in reassurance.
Following all the rules her etiquette teacher had drilled into her, she followed an attendant up the stairs to the daimyo’s audience chamber. With every step, her heart hammered a tiny bit louder, and sweat began to pool on her forehead and drip down to her chin.
“Hideyoshi Hisako, second daughter of…” a servant announced. Hisako paid him little mind, tuning him out as he rattled out her inherited titles and background, and trained her eyes on the brilliant lights in the room.
There were more than a dozen of them, some in the roof beams for some odd reason. They stayed on her mind even as she knelt on the floor before the daimyo.
“Why, I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time,” the daimyo said, voice soft and raspy. She didn’t dare raise her head yet, and he chuckled. “You can raise your head dear.”
Hisako wondered if she had to. It wasn’t exactly phrased as an order, but surely it would look odd if she kept her head pressed into the floor. A heartbeat passed, and she decided to obey.
Her uncle was very similar to her father was her first thought. The same coloured eyes, the same poise and grace, the same jawline, and even nose. The main difference was the shape of their eyes and the hairstyle - her father always had liked to keep a parted fringe. And of course the ornaments decorating the daimyo and showing his status.
“Come closer, child,” the daimyo said, waving her forward with a casual hand. She scooted forwards, just a tiny bit.
He burst into laughter. “No, no, come up here. Sit next to me.”
When she hesitated, he slouched slightly, a frown on his face. “Do you not want to come to chat with your uncle?”
“No, no, of course not. Wait, no, I mean, I do! I do!” Hisako exclaimed, abandoning decorum and jumping to her feet. The last thing she wanted to do was offend the daimyo, the man who had power over the entire country.
In her haste, she forgot her robes were longer than usual. The moment she stepped on the hem of her dress, she barely had time to think oh dear before she pitched forwards. Hisako threw out an arm to shield herself, squeezing her eyes shut.
A faint whoosh of air ghosted past her, and then she felt arms around her waist. The world tilted and blurred, and in the time it took her to blink, she was face-to-face with her uncle. I’m going to die, she thought. The man who had practically teleported her up to her uncle set her down, melting back into the shadows.
But her uncle didn’t seem like he was going to, judging by how he was busy pouring tea and placing it into her hands. “Sit, please,” he ushered. She obeyed. The water in her cup swirled, leaves drifting to the bottom.
“Where did he come from?” Hisako asked, surprising her uncle and herself.
“I always have people here,” her uncle replied smoothly. “For protection.”
She nodded in understanding, mentally following the light as it appeared back at its original location. “Was it magic?”
Her uncle smiled, taking a sip of the tea. “No, not magic,” he answered. “They’re shinobi.”
Hisako mulled it over, but she didn’t remember much mention of shinobi in her lessons. “Are you curious?” her uncle asked.
“Not really,” Hisako murmured. She didn’t think initiating more conversation was the best idea. The tea was bitter and she placed it back down with a frown. “It is interesting though,” she allowed. He hummed in agreement. And to her dismay, the idle conversation continued.
As time continued to drift on, Hisako felt more and more at ease. Not once did her uncle mention anything about succession, or politics, or even the rest of their family. He smiled often, pointing out his favourite desserts among their selection.
Hisako didn’t think she was someone who could be swayed by food, but, good food never hurt.
She left the meeting feeling more perplexed than ever. Because her uncle didn’t feel malicious, nor did he feel cruel. He seemed more intrigued and lonely than anything, and the topics they talked about reflected that. What was the weather like recently? What foods did she like? How did she feel about this and that?
Sitting alone in her carriage surrounded by fine silk curtains and embroidered pillows, Hisako wondered what it would be like to be the daimyo. A treacherous thought, but it wasn’t like anyone could read her mind.
If she was the one sitting on the gilded throne in that large, empty chamber, how would she feel? What would it be like? She imagined not being able to move around without dozens of guards, not being able to eat before someone tested it first, not being able to visit family without rumours flinging around. She didn’t see any appeal in it at all.
What made the position so enticing?
Perhaps it was a blessing not to know the answer.
A few months later, she was watching flower petals float into the pond and trying to memorize poetry when the sound of children arguing caught her attention. It was already rather unusual, given she was the youngest in the household. She wandered closer, attendants following from a distance. Mio was busy doing something else, and she wasn’t too familiar with the others.
“I told you it would break.”
“Yeah, well if you hadn’t pushed me it would be fine.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t even use chakra properly.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you-”
A leaf crinkled beneath her feet. The voices died off. Hisako fought down the urge to go back. It was her garden, it wasn’t as if she was going against any rules. Rounding the corner, she came face to face with two boys, one with wild black hair sticking up in all directions.
“Who are you?” wild-hair asked with a huff. The other child, who she assumed was his sibling given their similarities, tipped his head as he observed her.
They were bright, not as bright as the man in her uncle’s palace, but easily outshining the rest of the people in her family. She noticed some other oddly bright lights nearby, curiosity rising.
“I live here,” she replied, “and you?”
They wore unfamiliar robes without a visible family insignia, and she didn’t recognize them from any clan residing in the city. What she did recognize was the smashed pottery and the bright red roses lying pitifully on the floor.
“The gardener is going to be very displeased,” she informed them with little change in her tone.
The shorter boy (without a mane for hair) averted his eyes, frowning even deeper. “I tried to catch it,” he grumbled.
“I’ll help you cover it up if you answer some of my questions,” Hisako said. The boys exchanged a glance at each other. Probably assessing her oddities, but she would take some scrutinizing if it satisfied her curiosity.
Eventually, the taller boy nodded. “I’m Madara,” he said. “This is Izuna.”
Hisako smiled. “My name is Hisako, now, follow me please.”
She waved over an attendant as she led her new guests to the pavilion and quickly told them to replace the vase. It wouldn’t escape the gardener’s eyes, but at the very least she could try to say she thought the color suited better, or even take the blame for the broken vase. It wasn’t a big deal.
What was more important was finding out what those lights meant.
And Hisako was determined to get to the bottom of it today.