"No, no. Strike harder. Lower!"
Taro swung again, the sweat beading on his forehead. The rashei leapt away.
"Missed again!"
Taro gritted his teeth.
"I hate wearing this thing," he hissed through the mask.
"You'll get used to it," the trainer laughed.
Taro reached up to pull it off, but then movement caught the corner of his eye.
He turned his head slightly.
The girl was wearing a cloak, but Taro knew her eyes well enough that he didn't have to see the color of her hair to know he'd seen her before.
The rashei's wooden sword flicked Taro lightly on the shoulder, and he jumped to attention.
"Distractions are dangerous, Taro Zayasu."
"Fair," Taro muttered, lunging forward with his own training weapon.
Was the girl…watching him?
No. She had disappeared into the shop.
The shop that belonged to Taro's mother.
His clunky sword sheared off the rashei's, who twisted his sword and sent Taro's slamming into the ground–hard.
Taro let the weapon fall. He wrung his hand, his lips moving in a silent expletive.
"Pathetic," the rashei scowled.
"You're the best rashei in town," Taro protested breathlessly. "I've beat everyone besides you."
The slightly older man's eyes glimmered.
"Huh," he murmured.
Then he dropped his sword on the ground and turned away. "I'll leave you to clean up," he called over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Taro."
Taro stared after him for a moment, then bent down slowly to pick up the sparring equipment.
The wooden swords belonged in the fortress armory, but Taro headed towards his home first.
When he got there, his mother was alone in the shop.
Taro didn't know if he'd hoped for the girl to be there or not, but he did find the fact that she wasn't, almost disappointing. He scowled.
"Good afternoon, Taro," his mother smiled. "Did you beat–"
"No," Taro replied shortly as he leaned the wooden swords against the counter and reached for a roll.
"Only one." His mother's eyes narrowed.
Laughing, Taro snatched the roll and shoved it into his mouth as he headed for the stairs that led to the main part of the shop-house.
"Don't leave these things here," his mother called after him.
"I won't!" Taro shouted back.
At the top of the stairs, he paused for just a moment to smile at the heavy sword that hung above the mantel.
Someday.
Someday he would swing it.
And in the meantime, no one in all of Karun knew it was here–besides him and his adoptive parents.
It didn't take Taro long to slip into his room and open the top drawer of his dresser. There was the paper, just as it had been for the past month and a half. The paper that girl had dropped.
He had read some of it–just enough to know that it was important. Then he had quickly refolded it, glancing around to find her. But she had already disappeared.
This time he would make sure she didn't leave without it.
Taro whisked himself back down the stairs, skipping the last couple of steps in a flying bound. His mother glanced at him in disapproval.
"Where to now, O wild one?"
Taro laughed as he grabbed the wooden swords and swung them over his shoulder. "I'm going a-courting, mother dear!"
Her laughter echoed behind him. "Oh, I believe you!"
Then her voice was cut off as he shut the shop door behind him.
Taro glanced both ways quickly. No sign of the red-haired girl.
Well, then, he'd run these to the armory and then hunt for her. She couldn't have gone far.
One of his friends, a boy his age named Roka, was already in the armory. As Taro came running in, the other boy glanced up from the actual sword he was handling.
"Whoa, Taro–"
"See you later, Roka! I'm on a quest," Taro declared as he lunged with the wooden swords towards the shelf where they belonged.
His friend rolled his eyes as the swords promptly rolled off the shelf and crashed onto the floor. "Nice try," he muttered.
Sighing dramatically, Taro bent down and returned the props to the shelf. "Farewell."
"What's with the formality?" Roka mumbled to himself as his friend's form disappeared from the armory three seconds later.
Taro was panting lightly by the time he reached the street again. He reached instinctively to jerk away the mask that covered the lower half of his face, then caught himself, biting his lip. He had to get used to it sometime.
There was no reason to be scared, but Taro still found himself glancing over his shoulder a couple of times as he headed down the street. For a moment, he wondered why.
But it made sense. Taro had never interacted with anyone from the resistance before.
Because he'd never been allowed to. But he was nearly an adult now.
Even so, his fingers clenched so tightly around the paper that he had to remind himself he wasn't trying to destroy it.
Taro shook his head in dismay a few streets later. He'd hoped he'd randomly bump into the girl. But…she wasn't in the marketplace.
Except…
There was a cloaked figure near one stand. A figure with no sword silhouette.
Taro's steps slowed as he approached the vendor. He didn't want to intrude…
His gaze landed on the bundle the vendor was passing to the person. Carefully wrapped clothing, of a very specific color that spoke of only one texture of fabric. The fabric every warrior prized.
Right…and this was the stand the girl always went to, wasn't it.
Taro had just about come even with the figure when she took the package and spun around, nearly smashing directly into Taro. As it was, he stepped back just in time, and she froze.
It was the girl.
Her blue-green eyes met his–and narrowed as he continued staring just a moment too long.
Then she sidestepped and jerked her head away angrily.
"Wait," Taro began, "I–"
She didn't stop. He almost had to run to keep up with her.
"Miss!" Taro called desperately.
Then he played his final card.
"I found your note!"
She…didn't stop. Not even now.
Taro did, though, his face covered in confusion.
She didn't care about the note?
And then the girl turned.
"You can burn it," she said.
Her accent. Karunic.
Of course it was.
"You dropped it weeks ago," Taro protested, his forehead furrowing.
He ventured to take a step closer. She took a step backwards.
"I didn't drop it." Her jaw was tight beneath the mask.
"Then someone tried to give it to you," Taro deduced.
He waited. His eyes lit on an oddly jagged tear in her tights.
It reminded him of the kinds of damage his own clothes had taken when he was young enough to climb trees.
Then Taro gasped as her scrutiny loosened, just a bit.
"Is that why you've been staring at me?"
"I–"
Taro blinked as his jaw stayed open.
"I just…" He stammered. "I thought you'd like to have your note back. I think it's important."
She blinked right back at him.
"You're a rashei's apprentice," she noted. "You train at the fortress. You're the blacksmith's son."
Her head tilted slightly.
"You should know better than to be meddling with rebels' business unasked."
Taro felt heat rush into his face.
It didn't matter who she thought he was. She had no right to–
"Fine," he snapped. "Burn your own note, then."
He dropped it. It drifted to the brick road like a leaf in the wind.
She didn't move. Neither did he.
And then she turned away.
Taro started.
"If the soldiers find that–"
She didn't give him a chance to answer.
"Then those rebels shouldn't be leaving notes for people who don't want them!"
Taro watched her disappear around the corner.
Then, slowly, he bent and picked up the paper, unfolding it again. This time he actually read it.
Ashkai Eishi: Kish'tar Chikanari requests your aid at the eastern pass of the Sarai mountains. In two months, all of Karun will need to work together. Signed, Kish'tar Chikanari.
Taro's mouth dropped open again and didn't close.
Ashkai Eishi?
There was only one Eishi nowadays. If there even was that one.
The legendary myth that haunted the Hiyashi woods.
Kishi Eishi.
The daughter of Seiryo Eishi, the man who had been Karun's greatest tor'kesh.
Taro shook his head slowly.
That girl? That red-haired teenager?
No. No way.
Kish'tar Chikanari, though, Taro had heard of before. His adoptive father had whispered the name to his mother once, then glanced hard at the listening boy.
"You'll know him someday," the man had promised. "When your time comes."
Taro knew he would.
But that girl?
Was she really Kishi Eishi?
Taro felt his cheeks burn.
Then a small hand grabbed his arm and jerked it down, paper between his fingers.
"Taro!" His younger step-sister, Nene, beamed up at him. "You got a letter?"
"Uh–" His reflexes moved before his compassion did, and he snatched the paper back.
Nene stared at him, eyes wide.
"Not really." Taro's flush only darkened. "Um…sorry."
She crossed her arms. "What? Why can't I read it?"
"Heh." Taro laughed nervously, his hand a bit shaky as he tore the paper to shreds and scattered the pieces over his sister's hair.
"Taro!" she squealed. "Stop it!"
"It's snowing," he laughed.
She landed a solid punch in his stomach. Strong for her age, but only hard enough for Taro to double over in laughter.
"Huh," thirteen-year-old Nene growled. "You annoy me."
He shrugged weakly. "Sorry."
"Right." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "So? What was in the letter?"
"I… Nothing, really." Taro cleared his throat. "It…wasn't mine."
"Huh," she snorted again before brushing the last fragments out of her dark hair and turning on her heels. "Also, Dad wants you."
"Alright," Taro amended, following her.
His eyes roved the street as they passed the corner where the girl had disappeared.
But she was gone.