Alpha Sei

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An Angel's Song

WRITTEN BY LUCIRENE FUENTES

/*by Lucirene Fuentes*/

<>/*Includes summary of MC's personality, maybe a blurb of current events (short chapter summary).*/<> <<if $mc is "">>You are the last heir to the Shinzei lineage. All their knowledge, painfully accumulated over centuries, is available to you.<<else>>Deep in Utahigashi, where beasts roam and the sun cannot shine its light, lies the Shinzei estate. In this cared for patch of land, in this place that has seen you grow, one can for a moment forget the sickness afflicting the continent. And here, hidden in the lonely halls and overflowing rooms, is the knowledge of your lineage, generations of magical expertise at your fingertips and privy only to you, $mc Shinzei, the sole heir. <</if>> We all deal with loss in different ways: <><<if $grief is "">>Grief is uncomfortable, painful. And still uncertain. <<elseif $grief is "depression">>After father's death the house has lost light, has lost the warmth it once had. You have fallen into a depressive state, sleeping longer, doing less. What little energy and motivation you can muster is used up trying to keep yourself safe and well-fed. Most other days you feel your chest tighten, your body heavy. There is no one place at home that doesn't remind you of him. <<elseif $grief is "bargaining">> Father's death has meant many things, one of them has been that you are free to do what you please, there is no one to control or judge you. There is no one, really. And in these lonesome moments when you can't muster the energy to distract yourself, you feel the memories rush in, guilt at something you know you couldn't have changed. Even now you wonder if perhaps there was something you could have done, but bargaining with death is impossible. <<elseif $grief is "avoidance">> After father's death you have attempted to return to normalcy. Your days are spent wasting the time away, cooking, reading, writing, working the field, cleaning, anything to avoid thinking about the lack of warmth and sound in the house. But when night comes the memories rush in and, with a heavy heart, you let the pain of nostalgia, of simpler times, lull you to sleep. <<else>>Father's death hasn't brought clarity, peace, or freedom. The silence serves only to remind you of everything you didn't get to confront him about. After all this time isolated, forced to stay inside your cage, he gets to get away with all of it. Anger has built in your chest, and it burns wherever you go. <</if>><> Initiative and temperament: <> <<if $bitter gt $kind>> Your reactions are often bitter in nature. Harsh responses, sarcasm and honesty color your words. <<if $bold eq $prudent>>— <<elseif $bold gt $prudent>>Bold and outspoken, your thoughts are rarely kept to yourself, you don't have time to waste trying to come up with more subtle and gentle ways to speak. <<else>>Prudent and closed off, your thoughts are safely guarded within, but they still linger and color your behaviors. An eye roll here, a frustrated sigh there.<</if>> <<elseif $bitter lt $kind>>Your reactions are often kind in nature. Warm responses, prone to sympathy and indulging other's whimsies. <<if $bold eq $prudent>>— <<elseif $bold gt $prudent>>Bold and outspoken, you make sure to voice your opinions. Gently and with some patience even the most guarded samurai will listen to you. <<else>>Prudent and closed off, you find yourself keeping your thoughts within. Still, sympathetic looks and subtle smiles speak more than any words ever could.<</if>> <<else>>—<</if>><> Disposition: <><<if $playful eq $serious>>-<<elseif $playful gt $serious>>There is no point to life without some playfulness to go with it. Teasing and the occasional joke can lighten the mood and make your companions feel more at ease around you, and we all know how important an asset allies are. <<else>>In this life you have learned that it is best to approach life with a keen eye and serious disposition. Things go more smoothly, much faster when you are earnest and careful in your approach to tasks.<</if>><> Emotional response: <> <<if $stoic gt $emotional>> Clouding one's emotions, keeping them at bay, is one of the most important skills to master. Being stoic means no one can take advantage of your current state, this air of mystery makes knowing your weak points difficult, yet it also makes it hard to relate to others. <<elseif $stoic lt $emotional>>Letting your feelings run rampant in emotional outbursts may not always be glamorous, but it is satisfying. Freedom and clarity are found in the expression of one's emotions and others are attracted to it, yet it also makes you easy to read.<<else>>—<</if>><> Acting out of character is possible, of course, sometimes the situation may call for it, but your companions are sure to notice the difference and react accordingly. <<back "Return">>

<<link "The Shinzei Heir" "Character">><</link>> <<link "Recollections" "Codex">><</link>> <<if $met_miwa eq false>><<link "You're alone" "Allies">><</link>> <<else>><<link "Allies" "Allies">> <</link>><</if>> /*<<link "Credits" "Credits">><</link>>*/ <<link "Back">><<if tags().includes("game-info")>><<goto $return>><<else>><<run Engine.backward()>><</if>><</link>>

<<script>> var passages = document.getElementById("passages"); passages.scrollTop = 0; <</script>>  <<if tags().includes("title")>> <<elseif tags().includes("credits")>><h1>Credits</h1> <<elseif tags().includes("character")>> <h1>The Shinzei Heir</h1> <<elseif tags().includes("allies")>> <<if $met_miwa is false>> <h1>You are alone</h1> <<else>> <h1>Allies</h1> <</if>> <<elseif tags().includes("codex")>> <h1>Recollections</h1> <<else>><h1>$chapter</h1> <</if>>

<<set $chapter to "Welcome">> /* MC PRONOUN. LOW FOLLOWED BY UPPERCASE */ <<set $mc to "">> <<set $child to "child">> <<set $person to "person">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $They to "She">> <<set $him to "her">> <<set $Him to "Her">> <<set $his to "her">> <<set $His to "Her">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $Theirs to "Hers">> <<set $herself to "herself">> <<set $Herself to "Herself">> <<set $re to "s">> <<set $are to "is">> <<set $was to "was">> <<set $do to "does">> /* MC'S APPEARANCE */ <<set $eye_color to "">> <<set $hair_color to "">> <<set $skin_color to "">> <<set $outfit_pref to "">> /* MC's STATS AND KAMUI */ <<set $grief to "">> <<set $bitter to 0>> <<set $kind to 0>> <<set $bold to 0>> <<set $prudent to 0>> <<set $playful to 0>> <<set $serious to 0>> <<set $stoic to 0>> <<set $emotional to 0>> <<set $class to "">> <<set $weapon to "">> <<set $letter_unlock to false>> <<set $touch_av to false>> <<set $fam to "">> <<set $kamui to "Kamui">> /*Checks*/ <<set $hazmas to "">> /* Inventory */ <<set $festprize to "">> /* Relationship stats */ /* Met ro characters? Other characters are activated after chapter is complete */ <<set $met_miwa to false>> <<set $met_hazuki to false>> <<set $met_masa to false>> <<set $met_k to false>> <<set $met_saori to false>> /* MC REL STATS */ <<set $ro_pref to "">> <<set $sex_pref to "">> /* FALSE MEANS DO NOT WANT FRIENDS */ <<set $friend_ini to false>> /* MC RO STATS. Ro friend is for determining main route if platonic or romantic */ <<set $ro_friend to "">> <<set $ro_ini to 0>> <<set $friend_ini to 0>> <<set $frienemy_mi to 0>> <<set $frienemy_ma to 0>> <<set $frienemy_k to 0>> <<set $frienemy_haz to 0>> <<set $frienemy_sao to 0>> /* K's var. re-k is for They're/He's; are-k for are/is */ <<set $k to "Klaus">> <<set $child_k to "boy">> <<set $person_k to "man">> <<set $they_k to "he">> <<set $They_k to "He">> <<set $him_k to "him">> <<set $Him_k to "Him">> <<set $his_k to "his">> <<set $His_k to "His">> <<set $theirs_k to "his">> <<set $Theirs_k to "His">> <<set $herself_k to "himself">> <<set $Herself_k to "Himself">> <<set $re_k to "s">> <<set $are_k to "is">> <<set $was_k to "was">> <<set $es_k to "es">> <<set $s_k to "s">> <<set $have_k to "has">> <<set $ro_k to false>> /* Masa's var */ <<set $masa to "Masami">> <<set $child_m to "girl">> <<set $person_m to "woman">> <<set $she_m to "she">> <<set $She_m to "She">> <<set $him_m to "her">> <<set $Him_m to "Her">> <<set $his_m to "her">> <<set $His_m to "Her">> <<set $theirs_m to "hers">> <<set $Theirs_m to "Hers">> <<set $herself_m to "herself">> <<set $Herself_m to "Herself">> <<set $ro_ma to false>> /* Quality of Life Variables */ /* if mc is ai then horse is suki */ <<set $ai_horse to "Ai">> /* IS THIS NECESSARY? FACE SEEN. k has already seen mc's face, but not as an adult. Saori has already seen their face. */ <<set $seen_mi to false>> <<set $seen_ma to false>> <<set $seen_haz to false>> <<set $seen_k to false>> /*temp variables*/ <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> <<set $varnum to 0>>

0 - Prologue - Fading Comfort 1 - Chapter 1 - I'm still here 2 - Chapter 2 - 3 - Chapter 3 - A figure looms in the dark 4 - Chapter 4 - A quiet place 5 - Chapter 5 - Bleeding Heart 6 - Chapter 6 - Who we are 7 - Chapter 7 - Find each other in the dark|Let the light scorch my soul (find your friends, save k|speak your truth, that you are just like they said) 8 - Chapter 8 - The sweetest poison|Mine and mine alone (learn more about father and mother, romance/platonic gets emotional|Learn more about the rassé, Kath and learn of K's disappearance. also kenji and kath) 9 - Chapter 9 - An Angel's Lament|An Angel's Song (If you go with Katharina she doesn't notice the crying in the song, just the song part) Epilogue - May we sing again|But I was not at peace ending: The canon one. Sei had no active romances at the time, saved everyone and decides to rest from their journey. K stays, Miwa becomes a leader in the community, Masa starts working to secure peace with shinmoku and humans by going to missions with their agents, Hazuki dates and eventually marries Kasuga if not romanced. Saori quits her duties and returns to her family, she still is devout, but she wants peace and to know more about them.). Sei's legacy is their family research, they and Hazuki open a school that is renowned in modern times and only exists in the Hyaku Region. <<cycle "$varchoice" autoselect>> <<option '"Kenji."'>> <<option '"Let me out of the house then."'>> <<option '"I just find it so weird now."'>><<option '"You nod. Dad it will be."'>> <<option "You roll your eyes.">> <</cycle>> <<link " CONTINUE" "0.3">><</link>> <<link '"//Masaru, can you stop a moment?//"' "1.masset">><<set $masa to "Masaru">><</link>>

<ul> <li>Banner assets <a href="https://www.canva.com/">Canva</a></li> <li>Fonts <a href="https://fonts.google.com/">Google fonts</a></li> </ul>

//IN PROGRESS// <<back "Return">>

ORANGE: Game info - character page, codex, credits. Populate these with what you like. GREEN: UI & game set-up elements. These can be edited to suit your needs. RED: Code. Everything in these passages should be labelled; things might break if you mess with them. arrow heart black heart white support missions white friend links

<style> #ui-bar {display:none;} #passages {width:100vw;margin:0;background-image:var(--banner-gradient);background-repeat:repeat;background-size:100%;overflow:hidden;scrollbar-width:none;font-family:var(--header-font);transition:0s;padding:0;} ::-webkit-scrollbar {width:0px;} .passage {text-align:center;transition:0s;} #passages a:before {content: none;} #story {margin-left:0;} @media screen and (max-width: 800px) {#story {margin:0;}} #main { margin: 16vh auto 9vh; position: relative; } #passage-loading-page { position: fixed; z-index: 20; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; padding: 1rem; } #passage-loading-page h1{ color: var(--white); font-size: 2.8em; border-bottom: 1px solid var(--lm-accent2); color: var(--white); font-weight: 350; font-family: var(--pretty); line-height: 85%; text-align:center; margin-top: 15vh; } #passage-loading-page h2, #passage-loading-page h3 { color: var(--white); } #passage-loading-page h3 { width: 100%; } #passage-loading-page .main { position: absolute; width: 100%; top: 50%; left: 50%; transform: translate(-50%, -50%); } #passage-loading-page nav { width: 80%; margin: 2rem auto; text-align: center; font-family: 'Urbanist'; } #passage-loading-page .link-internal { color: var(--white) !important; margin: 0 5px; } #passage-loading-page .link-internal::before { content: "✦"; font-size: 0.7rem; margin-right: 10px; } </style> <div class="main"> <nav> <<link "Resume Game">><<run Save.autosave.load()>><</link>> <<link "Load Game">><<run UI.saves();>><</link>> </nav> <div class="story-banner"> <div class="content">  <h1 class="story-title">An Angel's Song</h1>   <h2 class="story-subtitle">You can barely hear it, that low humming</h2> ✦  <h3 class="story-author">By <a href="https://melkstudio.tumblr.com/"></a>Lucirene Fuentes</h3> </div> </div> <nav> <<link "New Game" "Intro">><</link>> <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings();>><</link>> </nav> </div> <div class="credit">✦ Loading page template by <a href="https://outoftheblue-if.tumblr.com" target="_blank">Vahnya</a> ✦</div>

<><<if $met_miwa is false>>A life in isolation has made for few opportunities to meet new people, and so you are left to wander the woods alone. <<else>>Allies & other relevant charactersAs you have need of others, others have need of you. And perhaps deeper, more meaningful relationships can flourish from this. Main Allies <<if $met_hazuki is true>>[[Hazuki Tamashiro|Hazuki]]<<else>>—<</if>> <<if $met_k is true>><<link "$k Rasse" "kras">><</link>><<else>>—<</if>> <<if $met_masa is true>><<link "$masa" "masa">><</link>><<else>>—<</if>> <<if $met_miwa is true>>[[Miwa Imamura|Miwa]]<<else>>—<</if>> <<if $met_saori is true>>[[Saori|Saori]]<<else>>—<</if>> Secondary — Others<<if hasVisited("2.haunt.end")>> —The Maeda Household —The Maeda Bloodline<</if>> <</if>><> <<back "Return">>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/CCor8jX.png" width="450"> Hazuki Tamashiro Age: 23 Physical description Hazuki wears his hair long, hip length, changing hairstyles to suit the seasons and the latest trends. He refuses to partake in hair dye trends, and so his hair color remains a vivid chestnut color. Bright hues and softer orange palettes are his preference, intricate patterns and long sleeves, whenever possible. Makeup and jewelery compliment his brown eyes and warm pinkish skin. Personality Hazuki is Lord Tamashiro's eldest son and the last surviving member of the Maeda bloodline. Born with magic in a world that scorns it, he has been raised in near seclusion in hopes that this would guarantee his safety. With an affinity towards art, literature and music, he has developed a sensible personality and a caring nature, but this combined with his very limited social circle have made him crave interaction and avoid confrontation. Hazuki is still starting his self discovery journey, there is still much about himself he is unaware of, much he has yet to discover, alongside the secrets of his lineage. Your relationship> <<back "Return">>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/OlLPzAv.png" width="450"> Miwa Imamura Age: 25 Physical description Mid reddish brown color to her skin, warm tones she brings out with the soft, pink palette she often wears. Light brown eyes under long eyelashes. Makeup is often worn, red painted on her lips or eyeliner drawn over her eyelids, no matter that no one can see underneath the mask. Her dark brown hair seems to have been cut in a rush, much too short for her liking. Her bangs fall just above her eyes, two braids right behind them giving her a sweet look. She almost matches $masa's height. Personality Born near the port in Hojo, Miwa has a fascination with the sea and often misses the warmer breeze and the coming and going ships seen from the balcony of her childhood home. Yet, much like many others living in Kyou, life takes many turns, not all pleasant, and she has now found home in Kawa, after losing her family. Adopted by the owner of a tavern and doted upon, you will often see her wearing colorful clothes and shiny jewelery, finding joy in fancy kimonos and luxury, yet self-sufficient and hardworking. Though often showing her bright, playful side, it isn't a secret to anyone that there is much she does not show. Charismatic and affable, impulsive and quick to grow attached, who knows what awaits you if you let her stay close? Your relationship> <<back "Return">>

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/O1MOY5M.png" width="450"> Saori of Hanzo Age: 23 Physical description Long hair that reaches her hips, she has found the trend of dying one's hair fun and is one of few things she allows herself to partake in. Lately she goes for a dark red color, creating a stark contrast to her pale skin and light brown eyes. Enjoys using makeup, if only lightly, though fancy jewelery and overly decorated clothing is forbidden to her. Personality The last surviving High Priestess of the region is Saori, because of it her safety is cause of concern for many. Yet Saori is no stranger to danger, she found her way to the temple as a child, after all. She walked the osen ridden forest, she followed the animals, calm and almost cheering her forward, until she found her way to her new home. Resilient and practical, Saori is well-liked among the people. Poised and collected in the midst of tragedies, yet courageous and fearless to stop them from continuing, it is easy to see why common-folk look to her as a symbol of peaceful times to come, as a beacon of hope and the true messenger of the Goddess. Your relationship> <<back "Return">>

Magic is in its infancy. Not too long ago, Goddess Naila's children, the angels, had served the humans as guides, standing right beside them. Not too long ago, her most prestigious fell. And now it is the commonpeople that must live with the consequences, unsure whether to scorn the Divine or worship in hopes of favor. This mark in your hand is proof enough of the damage that can be done by the fallen, yet your dual nature is also a symbol of unity, that not all is as simple as it seems. Volarie Walker, many paths are available to you, which will you choose? We, the Guardians of Fate, cannot wait to know. (This story is suitable for an 18+ audience.) [[I'm ready to start|Prologue 0.1][$chapter to "Prologue: Fading Comfort"]]

"Happy Birthday, darling!" You raise your gaze to meet father's, his dark silver-white hair is tied in a bun, but a few strands have been left to fall atop the box he carries. He kneels before you, smile wide and bright. There is this very faint glint in his eyes, making them appear glossy and red, an obvious contrast to his white sclera, so unlike your own. "Come on, don't leave me hanging." Brow furrowed, the smile, that had almost seemed sad, is now turned into a playful smirk. "Accept daddy's gift!" Now that is the father you remember. [["I smile back, I don't want him to be sad."|0.2][$varchoice to "1"]] [["I scrunch my nose, a bit embarrassed at the attention."|0.2][$varchoice to "2"]] [['"So you did remember that I have a birthday?"'|0.2][$varchoice to "3"]] [['"Thank you, father! I love you!"'|0.2][$varchoice to "4"]]

<><<if $varchoice is "1">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $kind to $kind + 1>> The corners of your lips raise to form a smile. Forced as it is, the sentiment behind it is genuine. Father is prone to dramatics, and so you dedicate him a cheerful grin, hoping it can dispel any sadness building, overflowing from his heart. <<elseif $varchoice is "2">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $bitter to $bitter + 1>> You bite your tongue, trying to not let it show on your face, but it's useless. You scrunch your nose, brow furrowed as you stare at him. You shouldn't be surprised at this point. Surprised at how quickly the seasons can pass him by and he doesn't even notice, yet it's still annoying, not to mention painful. <<elseif $varchoice is "3">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $bitter to $bitter + 1>> Theres is this bitter tone to your voice, brow furrowed as you ask him. "So you did remember that I have birthday?" The smile wavers for a moment, interrupted by bouts of nervous, ashamed laughter. "Of course, my little baby! Daddy knows, it's just… time is such a complex measure." You frown, feet stomping the ground at his answer. <<else>> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $kind to $kind + 1>> "Thank you father! I love you!" A smile adorns your face, one that makes father see in you that little child once more. Even when the image disappears, he can't help but think of you the same way. Father's brow creases, his smile wavering as he covers his eyes with his sleeve. "Oh, my little baby, you'll make daddy cry." <</if>><> <><<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Last time we celebrated in spring, it's nearly winter, father!" you can't help but yell, annoyed at his attitude. <<else>>"Father, last time we celebrated during spring," you force the words out in a soft tone, wringing your fingers. <</if>><> Father sighs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, darling. But I really do have a hard time keeping track of… well," he laughs, "time." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Maybe if we actually saw other people and did other things, we wouldn't," you add, feeling your expression sour, "Is it really any surprise?"<<else>>"You could try a little harder," you add, feeling your expression sour. "We could go outside."<</if>> "How about we talk about calling me father, huh?" He frowns, mouth curved down, gaze severe, yet you know this is only him pretending to be angry, he rarely is truly. "Now that you're a teen you don't care about little old me anymore? If you don't want to call me daddy, at least call me dad." [['"Kenji."'|0.3][$varchoice to "1"]] [['"Let me out of the house then."'|0.3][$varchoice to "2"]] [['"I just find it so weird now."'|0.3][$varchoice to "3"]] [["You nod. Dad it will be."|0.3][$varchoice to "4"]] [["You roll your eyes."|0.3][$varchoice to "5"]]

<<if $masa is "Masami">><img src="https://i.imgur.com/qMGi9QD.png" width="450"><<else>><img src="https://i.imgur.com/w5o9Lba.png" width="450"><</if>> $masa Shiraishi Age: 25 Physical description $masa has short slightly wavy hair that curls at the tips. Rich chocolate tones and a soft texture to the fibers. Skin is tawny, scars hidden below $his_m, often blue, clothes. Lately, to appease $his_m caretaker and give off the vibes of a spouse-to-be, have taken to wearing hair extensions and ornate accessories on $his_m days off. According to $him_m: "Don't compliment me again. I'm self-conscious enough as it is!" Personality Born to one of Warlord Ginji's most trusted samurai, Yamato Shiraishi; and his wife, Clan Leader Masako Shiraishi, from whom he adopted his surname. With big shoes to fill, $masa takes great pride in $his_m heritage, Kyou and Hezuo alike. Stubborn and determined, nothing can deter $him_m once they're set on a goal. Since $she_m was taken into the Tamashiro household when young, $she_m has developed a sibling-like bond with Hazuki, whom $she_m protect to overbearing degrees. Life living in a noble house has not made $him_m any less brash and you will find $she_m has no qualms in calling others out, even those belonging to the very house $she_m is now a part of. Your relationship> <<back "Return">>

<<if $k is "Klaus">><img src="https://i.imgur.com/qhK7pZZ.png" width="450"><<else>><img src="https://i.imgur.com/2fboiFB.png" width="450"><</if>> $k Rasse Age: 28 Physical description $K is the tallest of your closest companions, though Hazuki comes close. <<if $k is "Katja">>$They_k wear$s_k $his_k hair long, black strands that curve and reach a little below the chest, though it is often tied in a ponytail with a cream colored ribbon.<<else>>$They_k wear$s_k $his_k hair around shoulder lenght, black strands of hair that curve and frame $his_k face.<</if>> Bright green eyes and white skin. $k wears little to no makeup and often uses dark colored clothes. A black and dark blue suit seems to be $his_k preferred outfit lately, though $they_k $are_k open to exploring Kyou fashion. Personality Demons are not exclusive to the Hyaku Continent. In Aveli many are those that seek to take control of the land from bigger, stronger demon clans. Such a clan is the one belonging to your master, Katharina and her young hunter, $k. Though initially reluctant to open up, you can see the inklings of who $they_k really $are_k. There is a certain sadness in $his_k eyes when $they_k look$s_k at you, mixed in with longing of days long gone. Slowly, kindness can break any mask, and beneath it truth will be revealed. Your relationship> <<back "Return">>

<><<if $varchoice is "1">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $bold to $bold + 1>> "Kenji. Is that better?" you speak slowly, enunciating each syllable. Father gasps, almost letting the box fall. "How could you hurt me like this? My child, my child is so cruel…" "Kenji. Kenji. Kenji," you repeat, arms crossed, not daring to look him in the eye anymore. Some may call you childish, but the point was made and you have won. "You know what? Keep calling me father. It feels so weird to hear my name from my child's mouth. It's like a curse word." <<elseif $varchoice is "2">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $bold to $bold + 1>> Brow raised, you feel a tinge of rebellion stir in your chest. Father expects a lot from you, considering the situation you find yourself in. "Maybe you should let me out of the house then." Father sighs, his hold on the box tighter. "Honey, we talked about this so many times. I'm doing this for your own good. When you're older, when you're stronger, you'll go out." "I am older," you start, a sigh turning into a huff. Digging your nails into your palm, you continue, "I am stronger!" But father shakes his head, not even daring to look your way. "Not enough," he whispers, looking down. <<elseif $varchoice is "3">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $prudent to $prudent + 1>> You sigh, scratching your head. You are already so much older, so of course calling him like you used to doesn't feel the same. As you grow older, it's only natural that the way you interact with him would change. But still, if father finds it hurtful... "I'm sorry, it's just weird now." You massage your elbow, trying to distract yourself from it all. He smiles, features softening. "I guess I can't really blame you. My mom said the same things to me when I was around your age. And my dad, well…" He stumbles back but manages to find his footing again, letting out a laugh. "My dad was heartbroken." <<elseif $varchoice is "4">> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $prudent to $prudent + 1>> Words are unneded, instead you nod. Maybe father is right, dad may work better. "Thank you sweetheart," he smiles, the expression making his eyes squint just slightly, which causes the smile to look even brighter. "See, let this be a lesson. Communication is key!" <<else>> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<set $bold to $bold + 1>> Father can be so demanding at times, being bothered at the smallest things. Holding back a sigh, you roll your eyes. But father notices right away. "It seems like the young master of the house is looking to be grounded on the day of their quasi birthday," he retorts and this time, you catch a glimpse of his gritted teeth. "Just because you're mad doesn't mean you should be disrespectful." <</if>><> With a sigh, father sits down on the floor, patting the space besides him. When you don't react he encourages you forward, tilting his head towards the small space on his left. "It's fine, maybe I'm just being annoying." Father sighs again, shaking his head. "How about you open your gift already, huh? We're not getting any younger." Feeling your stomach flutter, you reach for the box, heart beating faster as you put it on the floor. Fingers trace the wood. In an instant, the top is pulled off and put aside. A smaller box sits inside, a circular indentation on its surface and some small swirls carved into the wood draw the symbols that make up your family name. Father smiles and directs a beam of light towards the little gap in the center of the box. A white-transparent crystal reveals itself as it absorbs the light, power and energy courses through the enchanted object, shine and color traced around the box and a nostalgic melody, almost ethereal starts to play. "Your mother sung to you this song, remember?" he whispers, almost hoping you won't hear, and you squint while looking at the colorful image that starts to form on the surface of the box. [[A child and their father (pronouns they/them)|0.4][$child to "child"]] [[A girl and her father (pronouns she/her)|0.4][$child to "girl"]] [[A boy and his father (pronouns he/him)|0.4][$child to "boy"]]

<> <<if $child is "girl">> <<set $person to "woman">> <<elseif $child is "child">> <<set $person to "person">> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $They to "They">> <<set $him to "them">> <<set $Him to "Them">> <<set $his to "their">> <<set $His to "Their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $Theirs to "Theirs">> <<set $herself to "themself">> <<set $Herself to "Themself">> <<set $re to "re">> <<set $are to "are">> <<set $was to "were">> <<set $do to "do">> <<elseif $child is "boy">> <<set $person to "man">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $They to "He">> <<set $him to "him">> <<set $Him to "Him">> <<set $his to "his">> <<set $His to "His">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $Theirs to "His">> <<set $herself to "himself">> <<set $Herself to "Himself">> <</if>> <>The image clears, the colors brightened. Father holds your small hand in his as he walks you through a patch of flowers. This memory had been burned into his mind and a small fraction stored into the crystal, for you to see and be reminded of it as well. When a child is born it is said that they inherit a sliver of the creator energy, those that gave life to all, the Mother, the Father and the beginning of all, the Divine Essence. However, real life is more complex than that. Sometimes, our bodies do not reflect our true identities. [[I didn't identify with the gender assigned to me. |0.5][$trans to "trans"]] [[I identify with the gender assigned to me|0.5][$trans to "cis"]]

Father takes his hand away, the light fading as he does. The smile wavers, music slowing down until you are submerged in absolute silence. He sighs, fingers wrung together. [[Bow deeply. I have to properly thank father for this gift|0.5.1][$stoic to $stoic + 1]] [['"Thank you, father"'|0.5.2][$stoic to $stoic + 1]] [[Tear up|0.5.3][$emotional to $emotional + 1]] [[Hug him|0.5.4][$emotional to $emotional + 1]]

Gifts like this aren't easy to make. The right materials are indispensable; wood that won't rot under the force of a spell, crystals that will sustain the storage of images and sounds, immense amounts of energy to cast spells and enchantments, and the hand-carved lines on the wood. Father took all this time to make this gift. To make it for you. Your eyes instantly travel to this very small, almost imperceptible, patch of skin on his arm, where a burnmark had suddenly appeared. Father had always been clumsy in the kitchen so you paid it no more mind than normal, but maybe… Father lets out a short laugh, covering the injury with one hand. "Don't worry so much, little one," he says, voice a bit broken. He smiles, the movement making the tears forced back finally slide down his fce. "I'm okay and I'm still here." Still here… The phrase, understandably, makes one feel conflicted. Still here, but for how long? As the image embedded in the crystal replays in your mind, you let this thought settle. Time keeps moving forward, you have grown taller, that little hand clinging to his bigger one; his hair was already silver, but the crinkles around his face have deepened. One day, this little image might be the only thing to remind you of him. The box and this house that you shared. You pick it up in your hands, delicately feeling the smooth wood, carefully crafted, following the lines decorating it. This gift is treasured, it is only fair that you show to him that you are grateful. Slowly, you bow, the box cradled in your arms. It's not something that you would normally do for him, he often dislikes it, but this time… A hand touches your head, ruffling the hair out of place, short, low sobs as he tries to contain his emotions. "No need, little one." He inhales with some difficulty, but continues, "I'm just happy I got to give it to you. My little baby has grown so much. I'm very proud of the person you have become. "But I still have one more gift for you, my dear," he says, standing up, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "It is a gift from all of us. From us, your family." <<link "It was fleeting" "chapter 1">><<set $chapter to "Chapter 1: I'm still here">><</link>>

This object, an enchanted gift like this one… It must have taken a lot of effort, time and energy to make. Normal wood would not survive such magic, and crystals are difficult to manipulate, memory spells too. Your gaze falls on his fingers, scarred skin and rugged texture. On the state of his clothes, a bit dirty from working in the field next to the house, or fixing the sigils protecting you from harm. Among all his duties, all his responsibilities, he always finds time for things like this, for surprise lessons that you both will enjoy, for gifts and recounting of his younger days, of simpler times. One day, you think to yourself while staring at those scarred hands, at yours, bigger than those of the young child shown in the image. One day these memories will be only that. You might not be able to recall them completely, to feel the presence of your father. It's a complicated feeling, the one that builds up inside you when you think of it. Of empty halls and silent dinners. "Thank you father," you say in a low voice. There is a heaviness to your chest that makes it difficult to talk, a tightness in your throat. But you're afraid of letting this feeling flow. He laughs, the sound making the entire house seem more lived in, more alive; though it is interrupted by short sobs. His hand touches the top of your head, ruffling your hair. "Of course, little one. Anything for you, for my little ray of hope, my greatest treasure. "But I still have one more gift for you, my dear," he says, standing up, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "It is a gift from all of us. From us, your family." <<link "It was fleeting" "chapter 1">><<set $chapter to "Chapter 1: I'm still here">><</link>>

Father is prone to emotional outbursts, to grandiose ideas and gifts that make little sense in the grand scheme of things. He is often overambitious, yet he always manages to give you something that he can proudly say was thoughtfully prepared. As you reach for the box, as your fingers graze the smooth surface and then trace the lines carved on the wood, you recall the image, however, this time many others follow. Father has always been here for you. The constants in your life have always been him and this house, this home he has protected for you. The seasons change, flowers wither and the vegetables in the field next to the house are harvested, new areas are added or reworked, yet he is always here. It is a strange feeling. You are trapped, but you are not alone, not completely. There is warmth, there is family, there is love. Your vision hazes, nose runny, tears stain the little box. You hadn't realized your hands were shaking ever so slightly. And, though you try to push it all away, to hide these feelings so he is not following suit, it is impossible. Sobbing, you put the box away. Your throat clogs, breathing difficult. One day father might leave this world, he might leave you behind and this house will be empty, but the memories, though faded, will remain. The house will be here and so will the music box, this memory he holds dear and has embedded in the white crystal. Loud cries interrupt yours and you find father has broken down too, unable to stop the tears streaming down his face. He smiles, though he knows it too, and wraps you in his arms. Here you are safe. "I'm here, little one, I'm always here." His voice is faint as he speaks. "But I still have one more gift for you, my dear," he says, standing up, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "It is a gift from all of us. From us, your family." <<link "It was fleeting" "chapter 1">><<set $chapter to "Chapter 1: I'm still here">><</link>>

The box's colors disappear, only brown and the white crystal inside of it. You watch them return to where they came from, the little crystal reflecting light. You reach for it, the song stuck in your head, the image replaying in your mind. The little hand that clung to father's so strongly, it has grown now and, almost surprised by this, you recoil. Lifting your gaze, you find father's lowered, though he meets yours when he notices you looking. The smile widens once more, crinkles under his tired eyes that shimmer with the tears starting to form, his easy grin. These moments… These moments you will not be able to have forever. Slowly, you move closer to him. At first he tilts his head, brow furrowed as he sees you move closer, this determined look about you,|the clumsy steps and embarrassed looks. Only when you wrap your arms around him, does he react. A little gasp escapes him, and you can feel his chest heaving. His breathing difficult as he covers his eyes with his hand, attempting to control his emotions. But father is just like that. He can't hide his true nature. Arms stronger, bigger than yours —for now—, wrap around you. He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head and cradles you, humming that melody again. "But I still have one more gift for you, my dear," he says, standing up, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "It is a gift from all of us. From us, your family." <<link "It was fleeting" "chapter 1">><<set $chapter to "Chapter 1: I'm still here">><</link>>

$mc Shinzei. All others have been scratched out. All other owners have left this world, their possessions with now a single master. All these years later after receiving it, it's still surreal to look at. This large cabin, the patch of land it stands on, the crops, the shed, the flowers that grow beside the windows. All of this is yours. Outside your house there is light like there is none inside the forest. Bright, warm and bothersome, yet comfortable in the afternoon, laying down on the floorboards, cold breeze caressing your face. The cupboards are filled with herbs, spices and assorted jars with frayed pieces of paper attached to them. The pantry has been stocked full of food, the enchantments will keep it fresh and, as long as you maintain them, it will take quite sometime for it to expire. The library and study are packed with books and materials, more than you know what to do with. All the knowledge of your lineage is at your disposal, and so you are protected. All has been taken care of. All is done. [[All except a single thing|1.2]]

Today, on Sabine's day, September 26th, the people of Kyou honor the dead. After the devastating Hundred Day War, these vestiges of the Age of Angels remain. The festivals, their gifts and the fruit of their sin, reflected in the black sclera of your eyes. This too is another remnant of those meant to be honored on this day. Proof of your heritage, of your tainted blood. And now, two months after his departure, you mourn the loss of the one that raised you and cared for you, the one that shielded you from the judgmental eyes of the humans, of the paranoid gazes of the shinmoku, and the vicious glares of those that seek the knowledge kept within these walls. Your father, Kenji. The deed on your hand is one of his last gifts. Though unnecessary —no one would dare debate the ownership of a cabin in the middle of the osen ridden woods—, even this he prepared. [[I-I can't do this, I can't…|1.2.1][$grief to "depression"]] [[How could I let this happen?|1.2.2][$grief to "bargaining"]] [[I'm trying to ignore it, but…|1.2.3][$grief to "avoidance"]] [[You don't deserve for me to stand here|1.2.4][$grief to "anger"]]

Hands tremble, the paper almost sliding off your fingers and into the dirt beside his grave. It is covered in flowers, Vered's Gaze and sunflowers, a strange myriad of whites and yellows adorning his place of rest. As your gaze follows the trail of flowers in full bloom, you feel your throat close up, your breathing stilted. Somehow you feel lightheaded yet incredibly heavy, like you could fall to your knees at any second. It has been two months already, you had hoped that by now some strength would have come back to you, some semblance of normalcy though the halls are so empty, the days so lonesome. There is only so much reading, so much work, so much cooking you can do to push these thoughts away, they are bound to resurface and force you to face them. You are often drowsy, distracted. Your mind seeks any and all distractions from this encroaching heaviness, but you don't have the energy. Your hands hover over his favorite books, reluctant to touch them and still you haven't dared to sit on his desk. Sometimes you wander the halls, the memories replaying in the dark corners of the house. Right there before your eyes, you see father smile at little you, avoid older you's gaze as you try to nurse him. You swallow, clinging to the paper more tightly, forcing your eyes open to stare at the carefully crafted stone, at the words etched in its surface. <<include "1.3">>

Guilt eats at your heart, encroaching, burning and tightening your chest. Since his departure—. No, perhaps even before, when it could no longer be debated that his time was near; a thousand scenarios had run through your head. Your research and his was exhaustive, yet there was no cure, only delaying, lengthening the amount of time he would be afflicted by terrible sickness, his body rotting away, his mind suffering because of it. Very early on, father had already given up, yet you couldn't help but think of all the ways you could have prevented this. Perhaps if you had tried harder to convince father to let you work in his stead, if you had forced him to stay home, where you knew he would be safe, perhaps you should have insisted in trying new medication, in searching for a solution. But another thought always crawls into your mind during those moments. Shaky hands, warm and sore eyes from all the crying, it still creeps in. Perhaps… Perhaps if you hadn't been here to begin with he… You swallow, inhaling to clear your nose, to bring your focus back to the present. And, eyes open, stare at the etched stone that serves as his last message. <<include "1.3">>

Losing the only other person in your life has not been easy. Father was warm and caring, but also controlling and overprotective, no matter what, a small part of you did resent him for isolating you from others, yet he was your only company, your only ally. Now that he's gone days seem to go by slower, every sound echoes inside your mind and there is no other to accompany it. As you push yourself to wake up and return to normalcy, as you wander the forest now that he cannot stop you, there is this emptiness growing within you. You breathe in and out, digging your nails into the skin. Many tasks occupy your day to day in an attempt to push these feelings away, but that single truth remains: Now you truly are all alone. Your voice echoes in the study when you recite scrolls, only your footsteps touch the wooden boards, only your hands caress the leaves of the tomatoes planted next to the house. There is only one person enjoying the breeze and the rays of the sun, one of few places where it shines this bright. It should be easier, you tell yourself. It should be easier to forget him, it should be easier to avoid him, especially now that he's gone. But it weights down now more than ever, that everything you knew and had was your father, that his influence will not be forgotten so quickly. And that message drawn on the stone, those fading words he left behind, those you recall every single night. Even now you look at the tomb and dread it. <<include "1.3">>

You inhale a long breath of air, chest burning. Eyes warm, throat clogged up. There are plenty of reasons for you to resent this situation, for you to resent him and the things he made you live through. This house and all of the objects inside are only reminders of it all, and as you tighten your hold on the paper, cramping it in the process, you can feel a few tears stream down your face. Father was demanding when it came to training, he was extremely overprotective, too controlling. At times his warmth, the gifts and the spoiling felt like compensation for the isolation, like he was aware of how harmful it was, yet couldn't bring himself to bring you out into the world, to release you. You want to hate him entirely, wholly, you want to blame him and him only. You want to condemn him for all of this. For the mark, for the empty house, for the broken promises. And you want to forget. Most of all you want to forget and start anew. But how can you when you shared this place for so long? This place feels more his than yours, and, even when outside, when looking at the leaves in the trees change slowly, at the skies darken at night, your mind drifts to his last message, those words drawn on the stone. Your eyes fall on his place of rest, on that rock that taunts you. <<include "1.3">>

It's bland, no names, no symbols. It's surrounded by nothing but flowers in full bloom that feed off the magic left in his body and, occasionally, when you can't sleep at night, you find yourself thinking of how it came to be in this place. Father was always prepared, you recall as you instinctively walk closer to his place of rest, the petals of the flowers touching your feet, tickling your skin. How could this have happened? Your fingers trace the smooth surface of the rock that lights up at your touch. @@.marked;//Preim lo domiden,//@@ slowly, the rest of the letters light up. @@.marked;//Preim lo ramei. Noe emida oes osurel.//@@ @@.marked;//I will always protect you, I will always love you. Don’t fear your darkness.//@@ The deep red letters fade once you put your hands away but you keep staring at the now darkened phrase, at the little etchings, at his messy handwriting. Back then you had acted without thinking. As if moved by someone else, as if you had lost complete control over your mind and body, you had taken the shovel from his stiff hands and finished the half dug hole. Somehow, you found this slab of stone pushed against the wall, obscured by a few bushes and weeds and, only when you had managed to securely put it over the patch of dirt did it register. Only then did you notice just how hard it was to breathe, just how much your eyes hurt from crying. You threw your clothes in the water until the fabric had damaged, you hid the large shovel behind some boxes in the shed, but you couldn't bring yourself to move the stone from its place. [[Regardless of it all, he was my father|1.4][$kenji_rel to "duty"]] [[He was my father, my only family. I can't get rid of it. I don't want to.|1.4][$kenji_rel to "close"]] [[I can't. I hate it, I hate him, but I can't.|1.4][$kenji_rel to "distant"]] [[Always trying to show off. Father, I'll miss your dramatics…|1.4][$kenji_rel to "pals"]] [[I tried to kick it, to push it. It just doesn't budge. It's like he knows.|1.4][$kenji_rel to "defiant"]]

<<if hasVisited("1.4.1") or hasVisited("1.4.2") or hasVisited("1.4.3")>> <><<if not hasVisited("1.4.1")>> <<link "Inspect the desk" "1.4.1">><</link>><</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.4.2")>> <<link "Take one of the figurines" "1.4.2">><</link>><</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.4.3")>> <<link "Rummage through the books on the floor" "1.4.3">><</link>><</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.4.1", "1.4.2", "1.4.3")>> <<link "I'm ready to leave" "1.5">><</link>><</if>><> <<else>> A soft breeze makes the branches in the trees sway, as do the flowers, Vered's Gaze producing a delicate, almost inaudible sound. It's getting late and you still have much to do. <center>———</center> The cabin has two floors, long corridors and more space than your family of two could have needed. Most of the time you found yourself in the study and its annex —the library—, the living room or your bedroom. There was little motivation to visit the empty rooms that father had turned into storage space for his many useless trinkets, or to go to the meditation room more than necessary, knowing father was too loud for you to have any peace. So it's no surprise why the emptiness is so obvious, so present. With a sigh, you walk towards the study at the end of the hall, the deed folded into a small square. Father kept it hidden underneath one of his journals, stashed away in a drawer. Had it not been for the breeze, for the window being open… You shake your head and open the door. That's not important right now. You've been postponing this for long enough, it's time to prepare. Initially, when you walked into the study that morning, you did so with another objective: to look for the other maps, those that father hid from view, afraid you would learn from them and leave, go far where he could not see you. But this place is a mess, a mess you've been avoiding and the task has proven more difficult than you initially thought. Father’s latest notes still rest atop his desk, a few empty bottles and animal figurines next to them. Mountains of books that no longer fit the shelves cover the floor and you know they go beyond this room, the library isn't doing much better. This chaos has made it near impossible to find anything without being caught in the memories or the frustration of finding yet another book of father's random drawings. But at least the cauldron in the middle of the room is empty, though the floor around it still has black stains from the many failed experiments. <><<if not hasVisited("1.4.1")>> [["Inspect the desk"|1.4.1]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.4.2")>> [["Take one of the figurines" |1.4.2]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.4.3")>> [["Rummage through the books on the floor"|1.4.3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.4.1", "1.4.2", "1.4.3")>> [[I'm ready to leave"|1.5]]<</if>><><</if>>

Father's old desk, now yours though there is little actually belonging to you on top of it. You already know what's there, it's not like you could have avoided it. There are few to do lists about house maintenance, instructions on how to arrive at some of his contact's homes and some people he knew were looking for an alchemist or a sorcerer, people he knew would not reveal your identity. He prepared all of this… He knew his time was almost up. With one of the leather folders you hide them from view. You're not ready to deal with that right now. Instead, you focus on something else. The drawers are full of colored vials, leaves and roots which you can smell even before opening the little compartment. There's even a small vial with your father's blood. Nothing new there, no key that will reveal the family secrets kept from you, those you will have to discover for yourself. The leather covered notebook, the one that last belonged to your father, has been filled with information about angel sigils and enchanted stones to protect the house from whoever tries to disturb you, though these ones are more violent in nature. He even wrote down a few cooking recipes supposedly passed down in his family and a schedule to when certain fish are in his favorite fishing spot. You shake your head, so many distractions today! Fingers reach for the vials, at random since they mostly do the same, and stop, hovering above father's blood. You sigh and take it as well, who knows what dangerous creatures lurk in the forest, you need any edge you can possibly get. A black paper attracts your attention, stuck to the upper part of the desk. Silver lines have been drawn over the surface, what you can only assume is a temple and a couple of villages and towns, though there is also a little arrow to the side, as if this map were incomplete, missing its companion. You fold the paper. This one will do for now. <<link "Do something else" "1.4">><</link>>

The figurines were made with the intention of giving you a familiar, something you had unsuccessfully tried many times before. He looked at the figurines longingly, worried for the future to come, for a future in which he wasn't there to protect you, but in the end it amounted to nothing and the last figurines made in preparation for your next attempt sit on the desk, undisturbed. You tried to find a book about familiars, but it must be still buried somewhere in the room. From what you can remember, it involves a full moon, a drop of blood, a figurine made by you and a deep connection to the chosen animal, however you’re not sure about the specifics. Each animal is made of wood, handcrafted and made to look powerful, focused. A small dragon, a fire serpent, a giant ophim wolf and a cat look at you expectantly, waiting to give their first breath. What harm could a little wooden doll do? It may sound ridiculous to some, but it's possible it will provide you with some confidence. When you're feeling doubtful of your decision to leave the confines of your home you can touch it, the smooth wood, the delicate lines, soothing your nerves. ''Giant Ophim Wolf'' The figurine is simple. Brown wood, with little to no details etched on it. Had you seen it without prior knowledge of its purpose, you would have thought it portrays a regular wolf. This wolf was first seen in the Ophim mountains north of Kyou, however, a similar variant has found its way to Chiyu and Hezuo, larger, but also more solitary. They stay in very small groups and tend to avoid humans unless provoked. ''Cat'' A classic pet that can even keep the rats away. Cold and aloof, you will need to gain their friendship. Familiars are bound to you, forced to help and guide you, however this one may be a bit more crass with their words than any of the other options. This is the one your father wanted you to pick, since it’s easier to summon and to control, even though gaining the creature’s trust will prove difficult. ''Fire Serpent'' Fire serpents are a common problem in Kyou. Though they don't seek confrontation, their gigantic size makes it difficult to ignore their presence, so they are often hunted by humans. As the name implies, their skin burns everything it touches, leaving only a trail of ashes behind. They tend to stick in big groups, hidden in dark caverns. It is said that if you injure one of them the others will stop to help their companion. ''Dragon'' Dragons are an incredibly rare sight, if they even exist. From what is known of them they are strong and rather smart companions, they also have quite the temper and live their lives secluded from others, leaving their home only to mate. Of course, that’s all speculation, and familiar magic works in mysterious ways, so who knows what will come out of this one. This one in particular has been modeled after the large, bulky dragons father had heard of in his travels out of Kyou. A mixture of the serpent like figure of those sighted in Kyou and the giant lizard appearance the stories in Aveli talk about. [[Take the giant Ophim wolf|1.4.2.1][$fam to "wolf"]] [[Take the unpainted cat|1.4.2.1][$fam to "cat"]] [[Take the fire serpent|1.4.2.1][$fam to "fire serpent"]] [[Take the dragon|1.4.2.1][$fam to "dragon"]]

Carefully, you start to dismantle the stacks of books occupying space. There are some about herbology, about how time and weather affect alchemy and a few about the basics of magic combat. You scan the other stacks, too big to separate easily and find the advanced courses he had prepared for you when you turned fourteen. He couldn't avoid it anymore, especially not with the mark and the political climate in Kyou. One under the other you see his notes on how to specialize in certain magic classes. ''The Master Enchanter (weapon-user)'' A Master Enchanter is able to channel their magical energy through their weapon. Their attacks are slow but powerful and they are able to absorb a lot of damage. At times, this makes them be considered an upgraded warrior and, much like them, they are able to protect their allies. Enchantments are either cast on a stone which is later attached to the weapon or cast directly on the weapon itself. ''The Master Alchemist (tome-user)'' An alchemist specializes in potion making and ritual magic. Because they tend to spend a lot of time in nature hunting for ingredients they develop elemental resistance. Animals, though wary because of your mark, will remain close and aid you, the trees will bend to your will, the elements, as long as they’re close by, are yours to command. Though more often than not a magical tome or spellbook will be more useful. ''The Master Elementalist (magic force)'' A force elementalist bends the elements, akin to what an alchemist would do. A force elementalist, contrary to the alchemist, requires rigorous physical training since they create the desired element with their own energy, without needing to be in close proximity to the element in question. The little excerpts written on the back cover are a glimpse into its contents. <<link "I read these long ago" "1.4.3.1">><</link>>

Though it felt like you were there for only a few minutes, the sun shines bright outside, it bathes the house in light, signaling that it’s already midday. Only a few corners of the forest are ever so illuminated. The osen absorbs most of the light, making travel difficult, so you must leave before you lose what little aid the sun may bring you. You pass the barren hallway and put on a cloak, the hood obscuring the face beneath just a bit. But the gleam in your eyes stands out still. Such vibrant eyes are dangerous to show. A black sclera and <<cycle "$eyes" autoselect>> <<option "hazel">> <<option "light brown">> <<option "deep brown">> <<option "blue">> <<option "gray">> <<option "green">> <</cycle>> iris speak of a magic lineage, one whose darkness hasn’t yet been erased. Thankfully, it has become a prevalent custom to use masks while outside. Yours is made of porcelain, expensive but easy to enchant. The magic keeping it attached to your face will crack it slowly, but for now this one will do. With the cloak and the mask there is no way others will notice that which makes you different. Sensitive humans are out there, true, however very few are trained enough to understand their sixth sense. You're safe, for the time being. Though a bundle of anxiety turns your stomach upside down, you're ready. And, as a last rite to him, as a way to send him off formally, you will attend the Festival of Souls. You will walk further than you ever did before and visit one of the villages nearby. <center>***</center> You step outside, the porcelain shimmering with the sun, warm heat and cold breeze mixing together. But you know this is only temporary. You leave the ward behind, the symbols inscribed on each corner of the property, into the forest. The light dims as if suddenly day had turned to night. Without a horse to carry you you’re left with no option but to walk all the way to the village, hoping you don’t find anyone, or anything, on the way there. The trees in the forest of Utahigashi bend as you walk, the branches seeming to grasp at you. The birds sing but you’re unsure whether the sound truly comes from them; the animals have changed too much since the osen took control of the place. Only faint rays of light manage to cut through the somber ambiance the tainted magic has corroded the forest with. A soft breeze passes through, carrying the sweet scent of the osen, enticing mortals to venture into its dark passages. <<link "Continue" "1.6">><</link>>

You take in the smooth, wooden figurine, soft to the touch. Your new friend will rest in your bag while you travel and, hopefully, will one day join you. <<include "1.4">>

Basic combat was one of the first things father taught you. Basic spells and moves he knew by heart? Those he taught much earlier, back when you were still in Aveli, or so he said, not like you can remember though your body still does. However, when the time came for you to learn more, he found he didn't have as much experience as he had led you to believe. Father's specialization was alchemy, that was what he enjoyed the most and he paid little attention to regular weapons, he only ever bothered to learn how to use a sword and nto very well. So, naturally, that’s where you two started: Sparring early in the morning, in the lake near the cabin, at a time in which animals where just coming out of their hiding spots and people did not dare roam the forest. Magic was always a priority for father —and you suspect he simply didn't want to use a sword in the first place which made him postpone it—, you could see in his eyes each moment spent trying to recall his own sword lessons was strenuous, thus he would only teach you during Micaiah’s day. The angel of combat watched over you on her day, yet the skill did not come to you as fast as you wanted. Eventually, your magic and ability with a sword were acceptable enough to specialize in a specific area. And, under his insistence that you start as soon as possible, you chose a specialization. Enchantments, alchemy, nature, the elements and forceful control, he made you read about all of them and, over time, you gained a basic knowledge of each. But you could only master one. [[I wanted to be a Master Alchemist, just like him|1.4.3.2][$weapon to "spellbook"; $class to "alchemist"]] [[I wanted to be a Master Enchanter, though I knew I would have to rely on the knowledge of my ancestors more than father's|1.4.3.2][$weapon to "sword"; $class to "enchanter"]] [[I wanted to be a Master Elementalist and specialize in forceful control|1.4.3.2][$weapon to "energy"; $class to "elementalist"]]

<<if $weapon is "spellbook">><> "//Alchemy is not good enough,//" father insisted, a hypocrite, truly. Though excited to finally pass on his knowledge, you were aware of the worried sighs he would often let escape. When walking the woods looking for materials you not only developed a cunning eye, but were able to notice the changes in his breathing whenever he sensed danger, the rustling of the leaves as the breeze passed through more apparent. But senses and potions would not help you survive, and rituals required too much preparation to take you out of a difficult situation. He took his older books, ink still vibrant and lay them out for you. He showed you the proper stroke order to create powerful spells, how to bind them to the pages of the book so they would manifest into the material world. And when your hand became steady, your casting quick and serene, the next step became clear. Blood, tainted blood. A single drop falling into a small ink bottle. You dipped your pen into the ink, now colored a slightly lighter purple and wrote on the first page your name. Your first spellbook. <<link "Continue" "1.4.3.3">><</link>><> <<elseif $weapon is "sword">><> "//Enchantments are relatively easy to do,//" that’s what father had said to you, "//but if you only inscribe a sigil or symbol on a sword it’s pointless. A weapon should be completely reworked into a catalyst for your magic, without losing its original purpose, or better yet, be made from scratch to provide might and magic.//" You started with a small modified version of Micaiah's sigil drawn along the blade with residue magic and the difference was noticeable right away. Lighter, easier to move around and an unnatural glow taken over the blade. The effects lasted only a week and, once it was gone, going back to the sword’s usual weight was a struggle, not to mention the fact that it had become dull and the magic had stained it black. With that first lesson it was pretty clear using a regular weapon made by a regular blacksmith wouldn’t be of much use to you, so your father took it upon himself to prepare a weapon, even though he had little experience doing more than prepare enchantments and submerge swords in raw magic. But you were younger and eager. Looking at the scrolls he had bought for the task —and those he uncovered from the library, those used by your ancestors— you could see many elements of the schematics that would make enchanting more difficult, that would make magic disperse quickly, that would render all your work entirely useless. There was no other way, you knew, and thus you found yourself conducting your own experiments. After a lot of bent knives, brittle blades and uncomfortable hilts, you finally managed to make one that didn’t break after the first hit. While it was in your hand, the sword would glimmer, a single spark of magic lighting it aflame. It was difficult to control and using sigils and your own magic made it more so, but you mastered it in time. <<link "Continue" "1.4.3.3">><</link>><> <<elseif $weapon is "energy">><> When your decision was made, father was reluctant to train you. He was silent, but his eyes spoke of all the worry he hid from you. Still, a week later, your training began. You were to familiarize yourself with the elements, the difference was that, as a force elementalist, you would have to be the one in control. You would walk across a path made of rocks with fire sigils inscribed on them, slowly, until your skin no longer noticed the pain. On Lumielle’s day, you would wander caves barefoot, only basic fire magic, that could barely illuminate, to guide you, until the air was oppressive and your breathing heavy; until your feet bled and just the feeling of dirt touching the sensitive skin made your eyes water. Swimming underwater was a struggle even though you were already used to lacking air. Under the waterfall, the current would push you away quickly, it would knock what little air you still had out of you. Again and again. But while you tried to master your understanding of water, he trained you on how to channel the others. "//Remember how it felt, and remember too that this is what you wanted,//" he said, the words, even now, echo in your mind. "//The fire burning your skin, the earth so easily shaken, air that moves swiftly and leaves you just as soon. Keep these feelings in mind while you channel the elements.//" So much of it was you exploring what was around you and using it to your advantage; making the earth under you feet move only by moving your feet; using the wind to swing the branches in the trees by harnessing with your hands. Fire, on the other hand, you were already familiar with but it was more intense and harmful than the glorified lamp you were used to creating with your fingers. Once more, he made the surface of the water solid enough for you to walk on it. Once more, you took to the waterfall and you fell, some water managing to get into you mouth. But you were determined to get over this one already. On the surface, you regained your composure, and dived deep into the lake. Far from the waterfall, you put your feet on the sand and with a sphere of air to help you, took a deep breath. The earth shook under as you moved it upward, a wall of rock and dirt now stopping the water from falling into the lake. <<link "Continue" "1.4.3.3">><</link>><> <</if>>

In every aspect magic requires balance, stability of mind. If you are not in control of your emotions, your thoughts, even the highest grade spellbook will not be enough. "//Pay attention to your emotions, keep them in check, and your mastery of magic will not be for naught,//" he used to say. As long as you’re in control, everything you have learned will keep you safe. <<include "1.4">>

You take one of the vials out of your bag after a few steps, the liquid is golden, but that matters little. These vials are not for element manipulation, they’re energy buffers, they make it easier for you to conjure a spell and instead of you wasting your energy the liquid within is used. They’re not exactly easy to make while outside, since they are made with residual magic, which you won't have while traveling, so you must make sure to use them with care. Once the vial is open, no matter how little energy the spell would have taken, it will consume the entirety of its content. There is no path to follow. You have a map but it’s always a gamble to walk further into the woods, you never know what fate might throw at you. You must also be careful not to stay for too long since the osen could affect you too, like it did to father. Carving signs into the trees can only take you so far. [[I can't risk it. There are etchings on the bark of the trees and I have a map. I'm not going too far away to need the light|1.7][$varchoice to "no vial"]] [[It's best not to attract too much attention in the forest. The magic fire is often too weak to light too much of the way, so it should be fine to use the vial.|1.7][$varchoice to "vial"]]

<> <<if $varchoice is "no vial">> You put the small vial back in your bag, careful not to break it. There is no need for it, this is a path you have taken before and, though it's the first time you take it alone, you're certain you have what it takes to make it through. //I'll be fine.// You tell yourself, hearing the leaves crunch under your feet. //I have nothing to worry about.// But your body betrays those thoughts, the cold permeating the forest, the sounds and darkness seep through. <<else>> You take a small lantern out of your bag and pour the vial inside, afterward igniting it with your hands. The lantern is alight with a vivid golden fire, it dispels the darkness that surrounds you while the scent of basil in the vial envelops that small part of the woods that you call home. Fortunately, there are too many protection sigils around the house, the cabin will be safe for some time, even if the smell happens to attract anyone, they will find nothing. A sigh escapes you. There is a long trek ahead of you, so you best get on with it. <</if>><>As your gaze darts from place to place, attentive to the breeze rustling the branches, at the glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, you let out a sigh. If you were to be entirely honest, you know a source of light is merely a tool to calm your nerves, little more. The Utahigashi forest has become more and more treacherous, and people more familiar with it take advantage of it. Humans, demons and beasts, they all have something to gain from lurking in the shadows; a passing caravan with a worried driver will yield food or textiles, a group of farmers or miners returning home will pay a toll to pass, a lonely person walking the woods without their father will be easily turned around. And as if that wasn't enough… You raise your left hand. It's gloved so you can't see the skin beneath, yet you know what it hides. It's Jasper's symbol. Twisted for a new purpose, the Angel of Knowledge's symbol has turned into a brand, given to a demon's thrall, a sign of ownership and a way for them to keep you under control, never truly free no matter how far you are from their hold. It has been years since the mark was burned into your skin, however the pain it inflicts has not disappeared. The mark occasionally pulses, burnt skin clamoring for relief. Each pulse, each burning sensation has but one meaning: We know you're out there. We will find you. Still… [["I want to get rid of the mark"|1.8]] [["If father was unable to do anything about it, what hope do I have?"|1.8]] [["I don’t know what to do. I just want to live my life one day at a time"|1.8]]

<><<if $varchoice1 is "I want to get rid of the mark, I can’t live like this">> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> You’ll never be truly free so long as it's on your skin. You’re a slave to your magic, the only thing keeping you safe, and who knows for how long it will aid you. Trapped in this forest, in that little cabin that has seen you grow older and more powerful, you will never reach your full potential, whatever it might be. Ridding yourself of that tainted sigil on your hand is a priority, a necessity. It can’t go on like this, but for so long father had tried to rid you from the cursed brand without success… You shake your head, no time for that sort of thoughts, they will do you no good. <<elseif $varchoice is "If father couldn’t do anything about it, what hope do I have?">> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> For years he studied the symbols, its reactions to other sigils, he even considered cutting off your arm until he realized the curse went deeper than the mark. But how far could he go, knowing close to nothing at all? All his experience, all those years dedicated to studying magic —for who knows how long, you never truly knew his age— and yet a solution was not within his grasp. And you, young, more experienced and powerful than the average witch but not even close to his level. What could you do? Was there anything you could come up with that he hadn’t tried before? <<else>> <<set $varchoice1 to "I don’t know what to do. I just want to live my life one day at a time">> It's difficult enough as it is. Maybe it's for the best that you don’t bother yourself with uncertainties, what are the odds you’ll manage to get rid of it anyway? If it happens, it happens but it won’t do to get your hopes up. The opportunity may present itself, and if it does, you could try to seize it but, for your sanity, it would probably be better to not concern yourself over it.<</if>><> The symbol on your hand pulses. Slow, steady, almost imperceptible. You wait hoping it will pass. But it doesn't. Breathing in and out, you attempt to control your quickened heartbeat. This happens sometimes, the thought crosses your mind. A futile try at keeping your composure. This means nothing. They haven't… It's been so long, they couldn't have… But no amount of repetition will soothe you. With trembling fingers, you touch the bark of a nearby tree, evading the purple marks carved by the tainted animals, and trace the duck drawn on its surface. Not even close to the village. You close your eyes, unable to relax. //Focus. Focus, $mc.// There is a certain rhythm to Utahigashi, sounds can easily be distorted or replicated, the carvings can be fabricated by demons. However the energy pulsing in the trees is often a clear sign to how far you are from danger. If a demon is nearby, the tree’s energy will have a slow beat, almost imperceptible, as if to not catch their attention. This test is how you and father had managed to avoid shinmoku patrols and even the monks and nuns living in the nearby temple. <><<if $varchoice is "vial">><<set $varchoice to "">> The wood reverberates. The sound clear, its rhythm steady. You’re safe, for now. Though the pulse in your hand shouldn't be ignored. <<goto 1.hazmas>> <<else>><<set $varchoice to "">> It’s quiet, a faint sound comes from the wood, the light pulse passing on to your hand but barely there. The birds sing once more, their voice filling you with dread. <<goto 1.k>> <</if>><>

You walk faster, trying and failing to ignore the thoughts intruding your mind attentive to any changes in the air, to any sounds out of place. You’re without a light source and your racing mind makes moving without tripping all the more difficult. At times, when a branch cracks under your feet, you fall back, startled. The air becomes humid, the skin underneath the mask dripping water. The trees change shape, the leaf-less branches moving slowly. The light grows dimmer by the minute, and your whereabouts are still unknown. Soon it will be almost impossible to navigate the forest without unwanted company. You hold a sigh, not wanting to make things more difficult for yourself. A gust of wind makes you shiver, your hair on edge. It carries a new scent, cologne, the aroma so powerful you can’t help but cough. A source of orange light cuts through the darkness. "There you are." A soft, sultry voice fills the air, the accent familiar but not quite recognizable. The sound, it is so close, too close for comfort. "Your blood is so tainted, I can’t understand how you’ve been so difficult to find." You haven’t looked back, but you can see the light of the lantern getting closer. <<link "Run away. I can't afford to take any chances" "1.krun">><</link>> <<link "Stay and listen. I can defend myself if need be" "1.kstay">><</link>>

You push through. The warmth emanating from the lamp soothes you when strange sounds manage to startle you; the trees, with its light, are nothing more than rotten wood, their shapes unable to cause you fright. Only the tainted creatures could bring you trouble, but they won’t be out at this hour. It’s clearer the further in you go. There are less leaves on the ground, more space between each tree, more spots of light, a few stumps even, and a small trail too. This part of the forest seems to be used often by the villagers, and thus has been spared most of the osen’s effects. Cold breeze makes you shiver slightly, but you continue to move forward. <<link '"//Masami, can you stop a moment?//"' "1.masset">><<set $masa to "Masami">><</link>> <<link '"//Masaru, can you stop a moment?//"' "1.masset">><<set $masa to "Masaru">><</link>>

<><<if $masa is "Masaru">> <<set $child_m to "boy">> <<set $person_m to "Man">> <<set $she_m to "he">> <<set $She_m to "He">> <<set $him_m to "him">> <<set $Him_m to "Him">> <<set $his_m to "his">> <<set $His_m to "His">> <<set $theirs_m to "his">> <<set $Theirs_m to "His">> <<set $herself_m to "himself">> <<set $Herself_m to "Himself">><</if>><>You stop instead, a gasp caught in your throat. With ahand over your mouth, in case any sound does manage to escape, you duck behind a tree and listen. The person speaking is not visible from where you are, but his voice is low, words carefully spoken, tone refined. Slowly, you move just a tad closer. According to the map, there's an open area near a temple. A place where the shadows will not shield you. When ready, you focus your eyes on the clearing, where the two people stand. There is a man dressed in a long sleeved kimono, hues of black and red color the pattern of the cloth, while his long brown hair is tied in a ponytail. He is accompanied by a $person_m with short, brown hair, the tips curls and fall below $his_m ear but above $his_m shoulders. $She_m wears light armor, shades of midnight blue and white. The $person_m stops moving and sighs, hands covering $his_m face. Seeing that they're distracted, you take the opportunity to hide the lamp behind the bushes. "You really are awful to travel with, did you know that?" $she_m says, though $his_m eyes are not on him but exploring $his_m surroundings. You get closer to the tree, feeling a shiver course through you. It's as if $she_m could pierce through the darkness, see that you’re standing right there. "It's not that I'm tired," the other answers, head hung low. His companion stares at him in silence. "Okay, fine, I am, but it's not that. It's about—" "Hazuki, stop," $She_m interrupts him, turning to the man. $His_m hands reach for Hazuki's shoulder but the height difference makes it a little difficult, $she_m lowers $his_m voice. You have to lean further in, focus your hearing, to make sense of the words. "Your father said he would take care of things, trust him." Hazuki shakes his head, playing with the hem of his sleeve. "He must be furious with me. He has never let me go so far from home. He has never let me out of Kawa!" He paces around, voice wavering. "Maybe he's hoping something happens to me, maybe he can't stand me anymore. What was I thinking? I—" "Do you think if that were true he would have send me to accompany you?" $She_m retorts "Or that he would go to such lengths to keep you safe?" "You don't understand how this works, $masa!" he yells, stopping right in front of $him_m. Both remain silent for a moment and, realizing what he has said, how he has said it, Hazuki takes a step back. "Sorry, but... he would try to cover it up, of course. He would be punished otherwise. Imagine the scandal if it were known that I'm… that I have demon blood in me… That I used it to hurt someone else." You hold back a gasp, narrowing your eyes to look at him. You can detect the weakest wisps of magic around him, but they're so small you can barely make them out, can barely sense the magical energy running through his body. "You're letting your fears get the better of you," $masa continues, "Your father cares about you. I promise. And well, what happened after… At least no one was actually hurt." $she_m turns, inspecting the area once more. Sighing $she_m tilts $his_m head towards him. But he doesn't answer. A flock of birds leave the forest, their caw startling the pair in the clearing. $masa, starts looking around once more, while $his_m companion follows $his_m gaze, trying to follow along. $She_m, like you, knows that the birds aren’t simply leaving on a whim, something must have scared them. [[I should leave before whatever scared them gets here. These people have weapons, they can take care of themselves.|1.hazmas.run]] [[We could help each other against whatever lurks in the woods. I’ll stay with them.|1.hazmas.stay]]

You can almost hear the murmur of a creature creeping closer. The pair are still standing near the middle of the clearing, eyes fixated on the forest. With them distracted, it's a good opportunity to make your escape. You back away one step at a time, careful not to attract attention to yourself. With the lantern in your hand you continue onto the village, and the people you leave behind resume talking, believing to be out of danger. Clearing $his_m throat, $masa continues. "You met Lady Shizuka that day," $She_m attempts a change of topics. "But she was the one getting the most out of the deal, surely she'll keep it secret." "Don't remind me." Hazuki brushes his hair aside, avoiding $his_m gaze. "I didn't really like her all that much, but I didn't mean to scare her like that. I just… You walk into your room at night and you don't expect to see a woman in her inner robe waiting for you. It was horrifying." "It couldn't have been that bad." $She_m says, though $his_m words are drawn out, as if giving $herself_m enough time to think of how to continue. "Sure, you panicked and used magic against her, but it could have been worse." "Thank you, $masa. I'm glad to know that you think I can do worse than that. Very supportive." "That's not what I meant!" $His_m hand touches the hilt of the sword, an idea coming to mind. "Listen, I'll buy you some sweets at the festival, imagine we didn't have this conversation." "Well, my friend, don't worry so much, it could be worse." Hazuki says, his steps hurried as he tries to follow after his companion. "You could have made a joke about me using my 'other sword'." $masa lets out a long, drawn out groan, $his_m shoulders slumped as $she_m continues leading the way. Hazuki is close beside $him_m, laughing all the way. <<link "Soon, you can no longer hear their voices" "1.festival">><</link>>

You take a deep breath, one that cools down your chest, makes you painfully aware of how your nerves are affecting each part of your body. Both these people and you have masks on, so they won’t know what you are, and you can simply pretend you didn’t just hear their conversation, but are you truly willing to take the risk of exposing yourself? Lantern in hand, you take a step out of the forest, into the light. It feels strange, the warmth of the sun, bright light making you dizzy after being in the dark for so long. The part of the forest you were just in is a completely different setting, covered in darkness and filled with unsettling creatures. And yet, there are spaces full of light, like this one, like your cabin, like the village you are about to visit; there are still traces of the old Kyou here, of the world before the osen. You take a minute to let your vision adjust, and once it does you notice $masa has already drawn $his_m sword. The explanation is stopped before being uttered and, in a blur, $she_m dashes towards you, making you drop the lantern. <><<if $class is "enchanter">> <<link "Unsheathe my sword. I'm not defenseless" "1.hazmas.1">>$varchoice to "1"; $varchoice1 to "no magic"<</link>><</if>> <<if $class is "alchemist" or $class is "elementalist">> <<link "Use magic" "1.hazmas.1">>$varchoice to "2"; $varchoice1 to "magic"<</link>><</if>><> [[Conjure a shield|1.hazmas.1][$varchoice to "3"; $varchoice1 to "magic"]] [[I can't afford to show that I have magic. Just run away.|1.hazmas.1][$varchoice to "4"; $varchoice1 to "no magic"]]

The sound of a taiko drum fills the air, muffling the laughter of the children too young to understand the purpose of the festival. People come and go, and you watch them do so, sitting under the colorful lanterns that paint such a cheerful mood for an otherwise mournful day. A long time ago this festivity would have been celebrated properly, but the osen has made people lose too many loved ones too fast, entire populations wiped by the creatures born from it. Though all use masks with joy filled smiles, you know what lies beyond is anything but happiness. Sabine, angel of magic and creator of this festival, would have been devastated to see this. So would the spirits of the loved ones attending today, to see them feel such grief, it must be truly saddening. You sigh, signs of a headache making you massage your forehead. Something else has plagued you since you arrived. <><<if hasVisited("1.krun")>> That $person_k… who were they really? Just being in their presence for a few seconds, you could already feel your skin prickle, cold to the touch, and this slight throb in your head, you dizzy as a result. It's clear they're tied to your mark, there's no question. But just how far does their involvement go? <<elseif hasVisited("1.kstay")>> That $person_k you encountered before. How did $they_k find you? And how are you supposed to make sure that you don't find yourself in such a situation ever again? $They_k know$s_k you're in the area now, and you doubt this is a fact that will be kept secret from her. Whatever happens, you can only hope next time you're more prepared for it. <<elseif hasVisited("1.hazmas")>> The people you met in the forest… Their names are still in the back of your mind, the faint bits of information you could glimpse from their conversations. Hazuki's clothing was bright and soft looking, the pins helping his hair stay up glimmering under the light. That is not the outfit of a common man, but one of a Lord, or perhaps a successful merchant. But he's also a witch, just like you. You shake your head. Not like it matters. <<if hasVisited("1.hazmas.stay")>> There's that other person accompanying them. $masa, their retainer, maybe? Or their bodyguard? Such a stubborn $person_m, so paranoid —though understandably so—, hopefully you don't meet them here. It can't end well for you. <<elseif hasVisited("1.hazmas.run")>>There's that other person accompanying them. $masa, their retainer, maybe? Or their bodyguard? Good thing you ran when you did.<</if>><</if>><> You sigh. There’s no point dwelling on it now. You came to the festival for a reason, it will not do to have you spend the entirety of it just sitting thinking about strangers prowling around the forest. You can worry about that tomorrow, for now you should just focus on trying to… accomplish whatever it is you meant to do here. ———— Standing up, you assess your surroundings. The booths are decorated with assorted colors, bells and wind chimes; bright, flashy clothing worn by every villager, and the song of the lost somehow mixed in with the drum. What are you to do now? The festival will go on for some time, and you will have to stay at an inn —the forest is almost impossible to traverse at this hour— so there’s no rush. [[Continue|1.festival.1]]

<><<if $varchoice is "1">> <<set $varchoice to "">> You touch the sword’s handle, heart beating fast, arms heavy, and bring it out just in time to block $him_m. The metals produce a loud sound as they meet over and over, dim sigils in both blades lighting with the touch. $She_m doesn’t seem to want to let up, and if $his_m blade is any indication, $she_m won’t have to. <<elseif $varchoice is "2">> <<set $varchoice to "">> Inhale, exhale. Your breathing is unstable and so is your hand, that trembles as $she_m gets closer. But in this world, you have learned, hesitation means death. Your hand aches, energy waiting to be released. Hopefully your focus is enough not to hurt $him_m too badly. Otherwise things might get messy. <<if $class is "alchemist">> You take the spellbook out of your bag as quickly as possible, making it float in front of you. Before $she_m has a chance to react, you speak the spell’s name, thus consuming a page. <<elseif $class is "elementalist">> With your feet firmly on the ground, you sense the vibrations $his_m boots produce, how swiftly $she_m cuts through the air, the huffs of breath that signal $his_m slow to build exhaustion. You move your hands slowly, energy building up, and hurl it at $him_m as a flaming sphere.<</if>> Unfortunately, $she_m catches onto your tactic, and blocks the spell with $her_m sword, the sigil in the blade lighting up as the magic touches it. <<elseif $varchoice is "3">> <<set $varchoice to "">> Shields are easy to cast, even under stress, the body’s innate desire for self-preservation makes the act almost instinctive. You extend a hand, an almost imperceptible spark running through your arm and projecting into a giant transparent wall in front of you. But $masa doesn’t stop attacking. $she_m adjusts $his_m position and strikes where the shield does not cover. The speed of $his_m movements making your focus waver. The shield won’t work much longer. <<else>> <<set $varchoice to "">> Using magic in front of strangers is a sure way to get yourself in trouble. And you already have enough enemies as it is. Over and over, the blade gets too close to your skin, and you must rely on low grade wind spells to throw the $person_m off balance, away from you. After a few weak attempts at running, $she_m manages to make you fall with a kick to your knee and points the sword right at your face.<</if>><> "Wait, let’s talk about this!" You say, gasping for air. At this rate either you'll get injured, or will be forced to use stronger magic. "I don’t mean you any harm." You can't help but be reminded of the lessons, of the countless warnings father drilled into your mind. //I should have known this would happen. Humans shouldn't be so easily trusted.// "And why would I believe that?" $masa asks, unmoving. You swallow hard, your eyes straining to look for something to distract them with, your brain scrambling to come up with something that will convince this $person_m that you truly will not hurt them. Especially knowing there might be a dangerous creature nearby. Hazuki, who had been watching from the sidelines, a blurry mess in the distance, walks closer, his hands clasped together. It's a very subtle gesture, but you think he's trembling. <><<if $varchoice1 is "magic">> "Are you…" he starts, voice shaking, words barely audible. Shaking his head, he tries once more, louder this time. "Are you a witch?" Slow steps, cautious, as to not enrage his companion any further. "What are you doing approaching us like this?" <<else>> "Are you…" he starts, voice shaking, words barely audible. Shaking his head, he tries once more, louder this time. "No, forget it." Slow steps, cautious, as to not enrage his companion any further. "What are you doing approaching us like this?" <</if>><> "I think it's pretty clear already," $masa interjects, pointed end of the blade hovering by your face. "I don't see any reason to let you finish the job before I finish mine." "Who sent you?" he asks, more determined this time. His chest puffs as he takes in a long breath of air, wringing his fingers together. "How did you even know we were coming through here?" "Hazuki, it's better if—" "I want an answer." Your feel dirt get between your fingernails as you scramble to think, your heart beating faster, indistinguishable from the low rumbling of the earth. Using what you learned from their conversation you could probably make up an answer, or you could try to be honest, see how you fare that way. <><<if $varchoice1 is "no magic">> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> [[I have to be logical about this. Something that makes sense, something they can't refute. "I bring a message from your father."|1.hazmas.1.1][$serious to $serious + 1; $hazmas to "message from father"]] [[No reason why I can't have some fun with this. "You don't recognize me?"|1.hazmas.1.1][$playful to $playful + 1; $hazmas to "bring up tenma"]] [[Can't risk a bad lie. I have to tell them the truth.|1.hazmas.1.1][$serious to $serious + 1; $hazmas to "truth"]] [[Okay fine! I'll tell the truth. With some embellishments|1.hazmas.1.1][$playful to $playful + 1; $hazmas to "dramatic truth"]] <<else>> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> [[I have to be logical about this. Something that makes sense, something they can't refute. "Your father sent me to look after you."|1.hazmas.1.2][$serious to $serious + 1; $hazmas to "father sent me"]] [[No reason why I can't have fun with this. Hazuki is a witch too, right?|1.hazmas.1.2][$playful to $playful + 1; $hazmas to "future baby"]] [[Hopefully if I explain the truth they'll believe me. Hazuki is a witch too, maybe I could appeal to him.|1.hazmas.1.2][$serious to $serious + 1; $hazmas to "truth magic"]] [[I'll tell the truth, but make it a bit more dramatic.|1.hazmas.1.2][$playful to $playful + 1; $hazmas to "dramatic truth magic"]] <</if>><>

<><<if $hazmas is "message from father">> It's not use to speak the truth when you've already seen how they react to your presence, but you also must be smart about all this. If you're going to lie you must be convincing. "I bring a message from your father," you say, your stable tone and the sincerity of your words surprising even you. "He wants you to go back immediately, Lady Shizuka came back." "W-what?" Hazuki lets out a shriek, hand over his chest. "Why?" His gaze falls on his companion. "Don't tell me you believe this person, Hazuki," $masa interrupts him. "What are the odds that not only she will return but—?" "Do you think that maybe she changed her mind?" Hazuki interrupts $his_m, breathing ragged. You would wager his heart beats so fast, so nervous and anxious for what this could mean, that his chest has started to hurt. "Or maybe… No, that would put her position at risk too." $masa opens $his_m mouth but closes it almost immediately, shaking $his_m head. "Fine," $she_m starts and you must force the relieved sigh back into your lungs. "I know not to go against you when you're like this." "We'll go back?" Hazuki asks, though you can't really tell whether he's excited or terrified, probably the latter. "Absolutely not. We will go to the festival like we planned. And as for the messenger…" $His_m gaze falls on you, no matter the fact that you can't see their faces, you know $masa's stare is downright cold. "We willl take you with us. Since you've been so loyal and so dutiful you will bring us to Lord Tamashiro tomorrow, I'm sure he'll be very grateful." You gulp. <<elseif $hazmas is "bring up tenma">> It has been proven, based on the fact that you have been attacked before you could even utter a single word, that humans are even more paranoid while in the forest than you imagined. Granted, it makes sense and you would probably be wary if someone approached you instead, but for this time, you really didn't mean them any harm. Keeping that in mind it's obvious speaking the truth would only result in more disbelief and perhaps even a grave wound. Lying isn't much better, but at least it could be fun. A thought comest to you, and you smile beneath the mask. "Do you not recognize me?" You say, lowering your voice, tilting your head just slightly to look at them. "After all this time… I guess you really didn't care about me. I should have listened to my father and stayed at the farm!" "Huh?" Hazuki takes a step back, turning to look at $masa, a hand over where his mouth would be, were it not for the mask. "$masa, is this person…?" "What?" $she_m answers, panicked and a little nervous, sword wavering as $she_m turns $his_m gaze towards him. "Why are you looking at me?" Hazuki crosses his arms above his chest, gaze darting from you to $masa. //Maybe I should try to make it more convincing… A popular name might do the trick.// "It's all Tenma's fault!" A loud gasp comes out of their mouths, heavy silence and furtive looks. "$masa! I can't believe you left this person for Tenma of all people!" "Come on Hazuki, don't tell me you actually believe this lunatic. Don't get caught up in $his lies." $masa's nerves are on edge, $his_m voice louder, clenched fists tight against the hilt of the sword. "You're just trying to distract us." $She_m pushes Hazuki to the side, hidden behind $him_m. "Who are you really?" <<elseif $hazmas is "truth">> Weighting your options and the way they have acted towards you, you know that a lie might just enrage $masa further, and you doubt Hazuki would be too inclined to stop $him_m. You could, theoretically, use magic to gain the upper hand, but if you don't succeed in your endeavors you would have shown your nature to two strangers. It is safer to say the truth, after all, they probably are out here after the same thing as you. "I'm just passing through," you say, trying to maintain your composure, your tone even and your words sincere. "I'm going to the festival. I assumed that you were as well and thought to approach you." "Approach us?" Hazuki interrupts. "Two complete strangers in the middle of the forest?" "Did you not hear the birds fly away?" you continue. $masa's grip on the sword loosens and you hold back a relieved sigh. "Something is coming. I thought maybe we could team up until we got to the village." "Who's to say it wasn't you who scared them?" $masa retorts. "They came from a completely different direction, how would I have scared them?" After a short silence, Hazuki is the first to speak. "Sorry, but I can't take risks right now. Come with us. I want to make sure that you're telling the truth." $masa nods, kneeling before you. "This might hurt a bit, stranger." <<elseif $hazmas is "dramatic truth">> It has only been an hour or two since you left home and you've already been attacked and threatened, the sharp edge of a sword too close for comfort. After such encounters and experiencing how people will react to strangers approaching them in the middle of the osen ridden forest, you're conflicted; on one hand, you would have been reluctant to trust them too, but on the other you're on the receiving end of that mistrust, and potential injuries too. Considering all of this, perhaps it would be best to be honest. You will tell the truth… on your terms. "The truth is that I am heir to a long line of librarians," you start, eyes closed as you are reminded of the faded images of your ancestors. Taking into account how obsessed with knowledge and magic they were it's not a total exaggeration. "What?" $masa's and Hazuki's voices mesh into one. "I have never been allowed outside, my only joy reading, my only friends the characters in novels." And the occasional animals that found their way into the house, only to be quickly kicked out by father. Teary eyed, as he often did, you recall. "I yearned for freedom, not necessarily because I want to go outside, but because I want to be able to choose to stay isolated." Hazuki tilts his head. You're not sure if they're listening intently, believing your words, or if they're simply too confused to doubt you. "But since my father died I…" Your throat clogs up. You clench your fists. Not now. "I have felt empty and forgotten, so I thought that, maybe, the festival of souls would bring me closure." $masa sighs but says nothing, instead it is Hazuki who responds to your tale. "Well. That was certainly a story." $masa shakes $his_m head. "I'm sorry but I can't simply let you go, I'm not convinced. Come with us to the festival, I will decide then. Hazuki?" "Forgive us, stranger." Head hung low, he says: "We have much on our minds and cannot take any chances." <</if>><> <<include "1.hazmas.2">>

<><<if $hazmas is "father sent me">> Telling them the truth would be a waste of time, especially after having shown them your magic. Regardless of Hazuki's nature, it is clear that he doesn't care that you're a fellow witch. Though, to be honest, were the roles reversed you're not sure how you would react either. Breathing in and out slowly, you let your mind do the rest. Hopefully your chosen topic, carefully crafted from the information presented to you, poses a good enough picture that they cannot deny its veracity. "Your father sent me to look after you," you say, and you can't ignore the rapid beating of your heart as the words come out of your mouth. It sounded genuine, it sounded like the truth, yet your body knows it's not. Hazuki's breathing stills a moment, the tip of his fingers touching his elbow in a nervous motion. $masa tenses, though the grip on $his_m sword is still stable, $his_m eyes stare into yours. "A likely scenario," $she_m mocks, "a man so afraid of magic would hire a witch to look after his son. Very believable." You hold back a sigh. It won't be as easy as you thought, it seems a change of strategy is in order. "He's worried," you explain, head hung low. Better to appear innocent and afraid. "After all that happened, he's concerned for your safety and no one can hide better in the shadows than a witch." "Or a spy," $masa finishes. But right now you're appealing to Hazuki, not $him_m. Your gaze meets his, dark eyes hidden behind the mask. It's safe for them to look at you like this, yet you can't help the shiver that runs down your spine. "I—" Hazuki stops, taking in a long breath of air. "Then why would you come to meet us like this? Would it not be safer to stay in the shadows?" "You saw the flock of birds fly away, there is something coming, I thought to warn you." "Instead of dealing with the problem from where you are?" He shakes his head. "There's another thing." Hazuki wrings his hand, not really looking at you. "Father would never hire someone with magic." At that your gazes meet. "$masa is the impatient sort, I suggest you tell me the truth or I can't be held accountable for your safety." <<elseif $hazmas is "future baby">> It has been a rather long two hours. As if the idea of going to the festival wasn't stressful enough, you now must prove your intentions to a pair of strangers that already distrust you. Clearly they won't listen to your reasons, so why not have some fun? An idea comes to mind and you have to fight yourself to hide a snicker at it. "I'm your child," you start, for a moment annoyed at the masks covering their expressions, "from the future." Silence settles in that little clearing in the woods. Two pairs of eyes stare at you, one holds a sword, $his_m killing intent apparent as $his_m hold on it tightens; the other with a hand over his chest, a little gasp escaping from his mouth. "Don't be ridiculous." $masa shakes $his_m head, you can almost imagine $him_m rolling $his_m eyes. "The future… Who would—" "Is it possible?" Hazuki intervenes, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by $masa's free hand. <<if $masa is "masaru">>"No, it's not," $she_m's the one to respond. "Besides we're both men, Hazuki. Don't fall for such an outlandish lie." "You adopted me when no one else would," you counter. <<else>>"You're like a brother to me. And just the idea of anything happening between us makes me want to jump off a cliff." "Don't worry I hear it was a relatively not as unpleasant birth. Still unpleasant but you know."<</if>> The lies just keep on piling, your grin growing wider as you are witness to the two strangers following along. Hazuki laughs, sound growing faint as you stay there, not joining in. "You must be joking, right? Surely I have children with someone else. Anyone else." "Hey, I'm not that bad," $masa retorts, turning to look at him, sword still pointed at you. "I mean, I don't want to either but— wait, why are you listening to this person in the first place?" "Since you can travel in time, surely you can send me back a few days? There's some things I want to fix." His voice is even, his posture relaxed, yet you can't help this sinking feeling in your gut. Those very faint undertones to his voice, they seem to speak of something hidden beneath the surface. Maybe this man isn't as easily swayed as you thought. "Child, would you give us a demonstration of your powers?" <<elseif $hazmas is "truth magic">> You came out of the woods out of your own volition, there was no threats then, just a genuine desire to approach them. You did not start the fight and your most powerful spells remained with you, surely that can make your story more believable. With the tip of the blade pointed at you, you can't but try. "I'm going to the festival in the nearby village," you say, your gaze meets Hazuki's and his fidgeting stops, almost as if he wishes to reassure you. "I saw the flock of birds, so surely something is coming this way, and thought that it would be best if we went together, just in case." "Why not go with your kind?" $masa asks, $his_m grip on the sword unfaltering. "I'm not part of the shinmoku." It isn't necessarily a lie. Mother was, but to them you're just a human and to the humans you're just a demon. "I don't even know where their settlements are." $masa opens $his_m mouth, but Hazuki stops $him_m, his hand on the one holding the sword. "Why approach us if you know people are on edge when traveling the woods? Why put yourself at risk?" he asks. $masa sighs. "I'm not convinced with your explanations, stranger." "If I wanted to attack you, to kill you, we wouldn't be talking like this right now." The confession rings true, managing to silence them both. <<elseif $hazmas is "dramatic truth magic">> From your interactions, it's clear these two, though one is a witch, don't care much for what you have to say. Even if you were to come up with a convincing enough lie what would that accomplish? You've already been threatened and have a sword pointed at you, it's best not to tip the scales in their favor any further. Though, after all of this, you can't be blamed for grasping what little control you have over the situation to embellish the truth. "I…" Your voice fades, suddenly at a loss for words. Where should you even start? "I was born to a long line of witches. I'm heir to their knowledge, to their power." Mentally, you pat yourself in the back. That sounds okay. Hazuki tilts his head, waiting for you to continue. "I have been chosen to carry the burden of their sin, of this power that can do so much, but take even more. It is the wants of my father—" Your voice falters, throat dry, but you force the sound out regardless. You can't let that feeling take over you now. "—that have led me to my current predicament and, especially, his death that has brought me this far." $masa doesn't move from $his_m place, simply sighing at the long winded explanation. "After his death I was without a master, without his barriers and orders. But though I am free to choose to go outside, I… feel empty without him around." You clear your throat, turning away from them, as if that could hide the emotion in your voice. "So I'm going to the festival, hoping it can alleviate this feeling." Hand under his chin, Hazuki is the first to speak. "You're… lonely?" You decide not to answer that, as you have decided to not think of that feeling, to dwell on the isolation and how it has affected you. Hazuki looks down at you, wringing his hands, the movement more relaxed. "$masa?" "I think we should bring $him with us." He nods. "I'm sorry stranger, come with us for a little while. I promise we won't hurt you or tell anyone about who you are, but I want to know for sure you're not going to turn on us." <</if>><> <<include "1.hazmas.2">>

A loud hiss interrupts you, and your companion’s eyes open wide in response. Turning back towards the source of the sound, you see a group of fire serpents push the trees out of the way with their bodies, sliding over to the clearing. Their orange scales shine with the light, hues changing as they soak in its warmth. They stay closely together, moving slowly to find space for each and everyone one of the members of their group. It would be beautiful, were it not for the fact that you're in grave danger. It must be afternoon already, time for their daily nap under the sun. And you're interrupting, caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You swallow your fear. They won’t attack if they don’t notice your presence, which is highly unlikely seeing as more and more snakes come out of the darkened parts of the woods. With $his_m sword sheathed, $masa turns to you. Hazuki is right beside $him_m, clinging to $his_m arm as he sneaks glances to the serpents. They don't need to say anything. This is a very delicate situation and you cannot afford to make mistakes. "Let's count to five," $masa whispers, so low you can barely make out the words. "On five, we run. If we go on opposite directions they won't bother to follow" You bite your lip. While it's true fire serpents have poor eyesight, their hearing is magnificent and the power in their bodies immense. Moving through the forest is not such an easy feat for them, since they seem to dislike causing too much of a mess, but they're such gigantic things that it doesn't really matter. You start counting, looking over to the place you came from, to the lantern you left behind. One, two, three, four, five excruciating seconds in which the snakes conglomerate in the area, the warmth they expel making you sweat profusely. A deep breath leaves you as your start to run, shoulders tense, lungs burning. Darkness settles again on the path you follow, but you cling to your lantern as you pass by the area and forget about anything else. Your security first and foremost. <<link "It takes a while but..." "1.festival">><</link>>

<<set $varchoice1 to "run">>The lantern in the stranger's hands provides more than enough light for you to make out their figure, the outline of their coat. The air around you is cold and with a strong scent of pines and lemon, inundating and dizzying. And you know, because of the pulse in your hand and the inexplicable dread that fills you, that this person is not supposed to be here. <<link "A stranger stands before me" "1.kset">><<set $k to "Klaus">><<set $varchoice to "nb">><</link>> <<link "A woman stands before me" "1.kset">><<set $k to "Katja">><<set $varchoice to "f">><</link>> <<link "A man stands before me" "1.kset">><<set $k to "Klaus">><<set $varchoice to "m">><</link>>

<<set $varchoice1 to "stay">> There is a pause, a moment of doubt in your movements, but you take a deep breath and turn around, the light of the lantern touching your mask. <<link "A stranger stands before me" "1.kset">><<set $k to "Klaus">><<set $varchoice to "nb">><</link>> <<link "A woman stands before me" "1.kset">><<set $k to "Katja">><<set $varchoice to "f">><</link>> <<link "A man stands before me" "1.kset">><<set $k to "Klaus">><<set $varchoice to "m">><</link>>

<><<if $varchoice is "f">> <<set $child_k to "girl">> <<set $person_k to "woman">> <<set $they_k to "she">> <<set $They_k to "She">> <<set $him_k to "her">> <<set $Him_k to "Her">> <<set $his_k to "her">> <<set $His_k to "Her">> <<set $theirs_k to "hers">> <<set $Theirs_k to "Hers">> <<set $herself_k to "herself">> <<set $Herself_k to "Herself">> <<elseif $varchoice is "nb">> <<set $child_k to "child">> <<set $person_k to "person">> <<set $they_k to "they">> <<set $they_k to "They">> <<set $him_k to "them">> <<set $Him_k to "Them">> <<set $his_k to "their">> <<set $His_k to "Their">> <<set $theirs_k to "theirs">> <<set $Theirs_k to "Theirs">> <<set $herself_k to "themself">> <<set $Herself_k to "Themself">> <<set $re_k to "re">> <<set $are_k to "are">> <<set $was_k to "were">> <<set $es_k to "">> <<set $s_k to "">> <<set $have_k to "have">><</if>> <<if $varchoice1 is "run">> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> <<set $varchoice to "">> You must be closer now, at least closer to the clearing near the temple. Whoever this $person_k is, you can lose them there, and with some luck find a group of villagers to join and hide with. Gaze falls on a little path closer to you. It's a bit farther, but there are less leaves and branches on the ground, as if they had been stomped by a carriage or some animals. This is your chance. You take a deep breath, heartbeat rising, mind racing. $they_k start$s_k to talk, but you cut $him_k off and start running, not bothering to look back or stop for air. "So that’s your strategy. Running away." The $person_k shakes $his_k head, $his_k voice a whisper. "Maybe it's for the best. We'll meet soon enough anyway." With a sigh, $they_k too disappear. [[It took a while but...|1.festival]] <<elseif $varchoice1 is "stay">> <<set $varchoice1 to "">> <<set $varchoice to "">> Though $they_k wear$s_k a cloak that covers most of $his_k features, you can see the inklings of black hair falling over $his_k shoulders, the glimmer of green eyes when $they_k move$s_k the lantern. Stomach turning, you force your breathing to calm down, your nerves to settle. That emerald color, it brings back too many memories, memories that though foggy still manage to cause you pain and panic. You hide the marked hand behind you though you know this person can probably feel it there, that $they_k can tell that your fingers are trembling, half chilled to the bone, half terrified. //How…? It's been so long, how did they…?// "Well, I was expecting you to run away or attack me. I’m surprised," $they_k say$s_k, taking a step forward. There's this very faint hint of a scent you can't quite place. Like a bundle of herbs hastily put together, a scent that inundates one's senses. "Now I’m truly at a loss." $They_k pace$s_k around, the lantern swaying with each step. "You must know what I'm here for, so why stay?" The $person_k stops, as if expecting you to interject, eyes boring into yours. But you have nothing to say, too focused on $his_k movements and the area surrounding you. //He told me to always be prepared, he told me. I should have known… // The memories rush in. Of father and the countless warnings. Of the darkened hallways of that mansion, of the bloodied tools, of the burning buildings… Perhaps he was right to be so careful, to keep you home. Perhaps, if you had listened— "How are you feeling, $mc?" $His_k voice is confident as $they_k lean$s_k forward, an elaborate gesture done with $his_k free hand, inviting you to speak. "Scared? Angry? Sad? Give me something to work with." Eyes narrowed, you let the stranger continue. Maybe if you let $him_k talk you'll get some information out of this, afterward… well you have the advantage of being familiar with the area. $They_k sigh$s_k. "Ah, this isn't going well, I didn't account on you to lose the ability to speak." $They_k let$s_k out a short laugh. "Hey, I have an idea. How about we sit down and talk a little? Sounds more fun than fighting and arguing about why I'm the villain and you the poor victim." The scent grows stronger, making your head spin. You force your body to stay in place, to not show signs of weakness; this $person_k is one of her hunters, and you can't let your guard down for even a moment. //Remember your training, $mc. Don't let it count for nothing.// "Who are you?" you ask $him_k, resolute. Your voice is even though your mind is scrambled, prey to the other's presence, or perhaps their powers that you were unprepared to face so soon. The question makes the stranger stumble back, the fire inside the lantern flickering. "Who am I?" $They_k laugh$s_k, this time more forced than the last. You clench your fists, attentive at any sudden movements on $his_k part. "It wounds me that you have to ask. As if that mark on your hand, that matches mine perfectly, isn't symbol enough of our bond." You open your mouth, but are interrupted by the stranger. "My name is $k, if that's what you were hoping for." $they_k answer$s_k with a sigh. Stretching $his_k back, $they_k continues$s_k speaking. "It is so nice to meet you. Or it would be, were it not for the circumstances." [[I would tell you my name but it seems someone else beat me to it|1.k.1][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "1"]] [[Charmed (sarcastic)|1.k.1][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "2"]] [['"Are you making fun of me?"'|1.k.1][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "3"]] [[Better stay silent|1.k.1][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "4"]] <</if>><>

<><<if $varchoice is "1">> <<set $varchoice to "">> This $person_k seems intent on either buying time for others to arrive —or to make you lower your guard— by making idle conversation. Whatever $his_k motives, you can't let $him_k win. Your eyes dart about, hearing the sounds of nature around you, careful not to be taken by surprise. Still, you find yourself answering $his_k question with a certain playfulness. "I would tell you my name," you say, and see $him_k grin when hearing you speak. "But it seems someone else beat me to it." "Tragic, really," $they_k counter$s_k, "Imagine if that had not been the case." $They_k cross$es_k $his_k arms, letting out a long sigh. "I would have told you my name, you would have told me yours. I would make a joke about your name and we would have become the best of friends." $They_k can't see it, but you raise an eyebrow, confused at the wistful look on $his_k eyes, the sad glimmer taken over them. "I think you might be misinterpreting the nature of our relationship." $His_k gaze falls on you, the smile still present. "I can't be friends with someone that wants to take me as a prisoner." "Would it help if I told you that it's not me that wants you as a prisoner?" "No, it would not." "Well," $they sigh$s_k, "it was worth a try." <<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">> This $person_k is very talkative, it seems. $They_k look at you expectantly, almost pleading with you to continue the conversation going. $are_k.toUpperFirst() $they_k really dense enough to try and pretend as if your life isn't on the line? Or is this $his_k way to lowering your guard? Perhaps of gaining time for others to arrive? Your gaze flickers about. You can only hear your own breathing and $k shuffling in place. A single word comes out of your mouth. There's no point in introducing yourself or hiding the slight bitterness to your voice. "Charmed." A wide grin forms on $his_k face. "I'm the one that's charmed by your mysterious aura," $they_k whisper$s_k, taking a step closer. On instinct, you take one back. With $his_k hand, $they_k hide$s_k $his_k laughter. "Look at you." $They_k incline$s_k forward, locks of hair falling over $his_k face. "All covered in black and hidden from view, how enigmatic." $k swoons, the back of $his_k hand on $his_k forehead, eyes closed. Somehow, it feels like $they_k $are_k making fun of you. Another question forms on your mind, one you voice freely. "Why did they even send you? Was there really no one else?" $They_k shrug$s_k, smile still intact. "I guess much like you, they were charmed by my great charisma." <<elseif $varchoice is "3">><<set $varchoice to "">> This $person_k has stopped you in your travels and continues to rope you into meaningless conversation. This is your enemy, or at least one of them, and yet they insist on keeping up the idle chatter as if the mark on your hand meant nothing at all. You close your left hand, feeling it pulse slightly. It feels like someone were digging their nails into the delicate skin. "Are you making fun of me?" The question makes $him_k tilt $his_k head, an amused expression on $his_k face. "You come here and act as if I should humor your ridiculous attempts at conversation." "Well, aren't you a bundle of joy?" $they_k shrug$s_k, gaze cast down. "No, $mc. I am being genuine in my interest in you." "Yeah, in your interest to kill me." Frowning, the $person_k crosses $his_k arms around $his_k chest. <<else>><<set $varchoice to "">> This $person_m is not to be trusted and you're alone in the middle of the forest, too far from civilization to find comfort and shadow in the masses. Better bide your time for the opportunity to leave, though you don't really feel any other presence, it's best to be cautious. "Are you really not saying anything, $mc?" $His_k voice is small, sincerely hurt. $They_k sigh$s_k, gaze cast down. "I guess even you would ignore me." You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at $him_k, though $they_k wouldn't be able to see the gesture. "If only someone paid attention to me." $They_k sigh$s_k once more, the sound more drawn out than before. Were $they_k not far from the trees, you have the feeling $they_k would lean on it, to make matters even more dramatic. <</if>><> A soft breeze makes the branches sway slowly, a flock of birds flying away, disappearing in the darkened sky the osen has created. The breeze brings back that scent. However, this time you can detect the easily distinguishable aroma of pine and lemon. Somehow, your stomach turns as soon as it enters your system. This $person_k… $They_k $are_k doing this, surely. "What do you want?" Breathing in and out slowly, you attempt to control the pain spreading over your chest, the stiffness in your legs. It feels like you might fall at any moment. "My, you don't look so good now, do you?" $k doesn't move from $his_k place. $His_k eyes are such a bright color, swirls of green hues keep you from looking away. "$mc, what will I do with you? If you know how valuable you are to her, why do you go outside unprepared?" You have to admit that you're not entirely sure. It's been so long since you had nightmares about that house, about the marking. It's been so long since you had to worry about her and her clan. So even though it was in the back of your mind, all these years of no encounters with them have turned her into more of a monster under your bed than an actual threat. But looking back at this $person_k, at those green eyes that mirror her own, a chill runs down your spine, hair standing on edge. Though you can't remember, perhaps your body does. It remembers how the mark was carved into your skin, it remembers the damage it causes when you are called to your master's side. You raise your left hand, staring at the back of it. It's gloved so you can't see it. But it is there, pulsing, waiting for a command from them. "Let me give you a last offer." $k takes a few steps back, always keeping eye contact with you. "You can come with me now, or I can leave and we will resolve this when your mind is more your own." Your brow furrows. //My mind is more my own?// "The truth is that I haven't fed in a while." You follow the movement of $his_k fingers to the pink hue of $his_k lips. $They_k smile$s_k, revealing the glint of large, sharp fangs. "And clearly my body is doing all in its power to attract someone to me." <<if $weapon is "sword">>You swallow, hand reaching for your sword.<<elseif $weapon is "spellbook">>You swallow, hand reaching for your spellbook.<<else>>You swallow, energy building on your right hand.<</if>> "Relax, relax." $They_k raise$s_k both hands slightly, as if to show you $they_k mean$s_k no harm. "Though I need to eat, I prefer willing offerings. It's no fun if you're compelled to let me drink some of your blood because my powers are out of control, instead of you actually wanting to do it. "So, what are you thinking? Deal?" [[Leave without saying anything|1.k.2][$varchoice to "1"]] [[Attack|1.k.2][$varchoice to "2"]] [['"I don't believe you"'|1.k.2][$varchoice to "3"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">>Answering this $person_k would only incite more talking and that's something that you would rather avoid. Specially because the longer it takes you to get to the village, the more difficult it will be for you to return home today. And this scent. You put your hand over the mask, where your nose is. Your head is spinning, if you stay too much longer then you're not sure if you'll be yourself anymore. $They_k might be right. $k looks at you expectantly. But you do not answer, you simply turn back, attentive to the sound of the rustled leaves as you move, at the sigh $they_k let out seeing you go. "You wound me with your silence, $mc." And though you feel your heart beat faster, yourself turning back every once in a while, $they_k do not follow after you.<<elseif $varchoice is "2">>Letting $him_k leave now would be a mistake. If you can get rid of $him right now you would be saving yourself a headache later. Even if $they_k truly let you leave, $they_k would come back. And next time you might not be so lucky. Before $they_k can react, <<if $weapon is "sword">>you reach for your sword, unsheathed and reflecting the light of the lantern.<<elseif $weapon is "spellbook">>you reach for the spellbook, feeling the energy transfer to the spine of the book and then onto the pages.<<else>>you use your anxiety and the stress accumulated over the course of the last few months to fuel your magic. Skin prickles with power.<</if>> You catch the slightest hint of a frown. $They_k shake$s_k $his_k head, and takes a step closer. $His_k nails dig into the skin on the back of $his_k left hand, faint wisps of magic form on the tip of $his_k fingers. In seconds, the outline of your mark forms on his skin. And, just as fast, you fall to your knees. You can smell burnt skin, feel the fabric of the glove touch the mark and make the pain even more excruciating. The sensation travels through each line of Jasper's symbol over and over, deepening the wound. Air leaves your lungs and has trouble returning. You reach for your throat, gasping for breath. $They_k walk towards you, but your eyes are watery and you can hardly make out $his_k body through the mist. $They_k kneel$s_k, hand reaching for your mask. "You're so rude, even though I'm being kind and giving you the chance to escape." $His_k other hand touches your marked one. Cold seeps through the cloth, soothing the pain somewhat. <<if $playful gt 0>>"I thought we were getting along. Don't lead me on like that."<<else>>"And so reckless too. Be more careful next time, I beg you."<</if>> Your head throbs as $they_k move$s_k back, taking the coolness with $him_k though you're still shivering. Slowly, $they_k walk into the thicket, consumed by darkness. And when the sensation is gone, your movements again your own, you return to your travels. It's not safe here anymore.<<else>>How could you believe anything that comes out of this person's mouth? If $they_k work$s_k for her, then $his_k words can't be taken at face value. "You’re insane if you think I will just take your word for it." You announce, eyes fixated on $him_k. <<if $playful lt 0>>"Why do you have to make things difficult, $mc? You won't talk, you won't leave. What am I supposed to do?"<<else>>"Hey, I don't blame you for it. If it were the other way around I would have said the same."<</if>> $They_k turn$s_k around, hands on $his_k back. There is no wisp of magic, no weapon in sight, but still you remain alert. "I’ll be the first one to leave to prove that I’m being honest." $k walks away, not looking back even once. $His_k steps are unhurried, not bothering to hide the sound $his_k boots make as they crush the branches and leaves on the floor. Soon, the shadows envelope $him_k, making $him_k disappear. A few minutes after, once you make sure $they_k $are_k truly gone, you continue on your journey.<</if>> <<link "It took a while but..." "1.festival">><</link>>

A thought comes to you as you walk: It’s strange, being surrounded by so many people. The village had never seen like it had that many residents —seeing as the osen drives everyone away— yet the streets bustle with life. The stalls are rustic, the wood badly cut. Their clothing, though bright, has too few layers and is made of thin fabric; some people could only manage to add colorful coats or obi, instead of changing their entire outfit. It’s harvest season, and though the fields do not always produce on time, on this occasion, their booths are full of food no matter that the elders’ countenance has worsened since you last visited two months ago. These people do not have much, yet they wish to show their loved ones, those long gone, they will continue moving forward. The state of their home leaves one to question if it will survive much longer, but for today, they laugh and chat away. The little ones run around or go get their masks painted on and you, you stay still for a moment, taking it in. This strange, yet new sensation. On such a cold night, it’s comforting to bask on the warmth of such a close community. Even if you have none of your own. <center>—</center> A couple of children run by, bumping into you and falling to the floor. Their masks loosen, but they put them back on and continue running, not even stopping to apologize. An older one follows behind them. Out of breath she threatens to tell their parents, and in her haste she neglects to acknowledge your presence. <<if $bitter gt $kind>>You groan as their figures disappear into the crowd forming around the game booth. So much energy in such little bodies.<<else>>You smile as their figures disappear into the crowd forming around the game booth, laughing all the way and occasionally sticking out their tongues at the one running after them.<</if>> [[I would like to get my fortune told.|1.festival.a]] [[I should visit the inn. Make sure I have somewhere to sleep|1.festival.b]] [[Go play a game|1.festival.c]]

Genuine fortune tellers are very rare these days. They, like you, know better than to publicly offer their services. Even when they’re simply humans with keen senses, others see only witches, a demon’s spawn. No one wants to let it be known that they contacted such a being. Yet, during festivals such as this, people tend to turn a blind eye. Everyone’s on edge, fearing for their lives as the osen draws ever closer to their homes. Can you blame them for wanting to find solace in divination no matter how hurtful the future it paints truly is? <center>———</center> You walk far from the booths into the dimly lit streets, scanning every darkened corner and alleyway for places a fortune teller would hide themselves in. Father would have never let you hire the services of one, but he still taught you how to reach them. With careful steps and your mask hidden below the hood of your cloak, you arrive at a small corridor in-between two houses, where a faint lavender light can be seen. The gap is only wide enough for you to pass through sideways, holding your breath and hoping you don’t get stuck. When you finally arrive at the end of the passage, you force yourself out of it, falling to your knees. Coughing as the dust on the ground unsettles and finds it way below your mask, you stand, and take in your surroundings. The alley leads into a small parcel. Small enough for it to feel cramped though there are only two of you, dark enough that you can only make out the outline of the one before you. A woman sits on the floor, a vase with a flower drawn on it in front of her is the source of the light you saw, and from the fire burning in it you recognize the smell of jessamine and bistort. She moves her hand forward, as if to ask you to sit before her. It’s calloused and with a few wrinkles, but Sabine’s mark is painted upon it; she must be one of her followers or incredibly dedicated to her farce. You obey and, as you do, she fills your hands with seeds. Not bothering to say anything, she extinguishes the flame, erasing the traces of previous divinations and giving you a moment to ponder what you want to see. Divination rarely gives definite answers, and depending on someone’s ability they might not even be clear, however you’re already here so you might as well ask whatever you want. [[Will I evade my captors?|1.festival.a2]] [[Will I finally leave this place?|1.festival.a2]] [[Will I erase my mark?|1.festival.a2]] [[Will I find a new place to belong to?|1.festival.a2]] [[Will I find a new family to be part of?|1.festival.a2]]

Unsurprisingly, the inn is silent. Only the sound of the owner bathing the parchment in ink, and her slow humming to the rythm of the music outside. Beside her, a man, that you assume to be her partner, is reclining on a chair nearby. The bell attached to the sliding door rings, catching the owner’s attention. She gives you a startled, yet enthusiastic bow, hair painting the white mask brown. "Good night." She forces the words out, her voice faltering. "How can I help you?" It's a humble place, you note while mulling how to respond. The building is clearly well taken care of, however the walls are dull and frayed by time, the furniture worn and with faint stains. It's just a little village, so it's no surprise, it's already surprising that it even has an inn. "I need a room for the night." The request sounds strange to you. Normally father would be the one speaking to villagers and clients, but now that he's gone you're left to handle matters on your own. Seeing as father was the one with the innate talent to weave his way into the best places, you can't get picky. "Any room will do." A brief pause follows as she looks over the worn-out book behind the counter. You doubt she has many visitors, probably just a habit to appear to have more customers than she actually does. "We rarely get visitors, but today has certainly brought a few." Suddenly animated, she turns to her companion, who ignores her completely. <<if $emotional gt $stoic>>"It's kind of strange though", you admit, voice low, almost afraid to give too much away, to invite further conversation. Yet you also know that complete silence can only make you appear even more out of place. "Seeing so many people out and about, I mean." "It’s nice. I’ve never been too keen on silence and the gloomy aura the village has nowadays." She shivers, pulling her coat closer. "But I know better than to get my hopes too high."<<else>>You nod. This place has never seen much traffic, even with the temple so close by. But safe places are dificcult to find lately and people can no longer afford to choose differently. You're no exception. "I know things don't look too good right now." The woman twirls the brush in her hands, gaze looking back at the man, ignorant to the splotches of ink falling on the parchment. "But it's nice when we can take a minute to relax and forget everything happening around us." "We all are aware where we're going," the man says, shaking his head. "And it's not a pretty place, let me tell you." The woman sighs, returning to you.<</if>> [[Continue|1.festival.b3]]

Most game booths are surrounded by young couples trying to garner the favor of their significant other, or children hoping to get a new toy. There’s not much variety —this is a small, decadent village, after all— so most involve catching your prize or pulling on a string and hoping for the best. And both are equally difficult without luck or prior practice. [[Catch a prize|1.festival.catch]] [[Lottery game|1.festival.lottery]]

Just a little farther from the outskirts of the village lies a single tree with a large rope tied around the trunk. It grows taller every year, already towering over every building you have passed to arrive here. The wind carries with it the scent of the osen, mixed in with the sweets being prepared by the villagers. It rustles the white leaves off their place, which contrast against the black wood of the emory tree. Nowadays, it is believed that only the emory trees can withstand the effect of the osen and keep its surrounding area safe from harm. It was a gift from the angels, a creation of Angel Lumielle and Angel Jasper, brought to Hyaku by Angel Vered. And now the few places it adorns are considered sacred. For this village to have such a tree… This must have been a place she visited often. Regardless, you are not here to be reminded of your old lessons, to make conjecture of the hows and whys of this village. [[Continue|1.shrine]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">>You take back a few grains of rice, until both sides have completely aligned. "I think that’s it." you announce, as you stash away the pouch. The woman’s husband, uninterested until that moment, stands and examines the scales. The woman sighs, hand tapping her mask. "I don’t know…" He says, looking you in the eyes. But, fortunately, the mask won’t let him see anything but darkness. "Don’t be rude, dear." "Fine," The man groans, hands in the air, and goes back to his seat, "but I think you’re being scammed!”<<else>>"It’s okay, keep the rest," you say. The innkeeper is caught off-guard, and steps away from the scales. You can’t see her face but, considering the situation, you can safely assume she’s very grateful. "Oh, thank you. You are such a kind soul." You can almost hear her tearing up as she puts the rice into a pouch of her own. //It's not that much anyways.//<</if>> You take the key into your hands, a diminutive number etched on its surface, and get back to the festival.<><<if not hasVisited("1.festival.a")>> [[I would like to get my fortune told.|1.festival.a]]<</if>><<if not hasVisited("1.festival.c")>> [[Go play a game|1.festival.c]]<</if>><<if hasVisited("1.festival.a", "1.festival.b", "1.festival.c")>> [[I’ll visit the shrine.|1.festival.d]]<</if>><>

Those words linger in your mind as you put the seeds on the vase, and as soon as they touch the clay, the lavender fire is lit once more. The woman raises her hands, making the flames burn brighter, a potent aroma escaping from within the vase. You cough as the pale brown seeds rise, enveloped in smoke. "Grasp your fate," she says, quite the dramatic spell. Her voice seems strained, slowly weaving words together, as if there is little energy left in her, yet a hint of excitement can be discerned beneath it all. You breathe in, your question lingering on your mind, pushing away any other thoughts. It's time, and so you touch the floating seeds. Another puff of smoke comes out of the vase as the seeds turn gold, making you cough once more. The woman giggles and reaches out to one of them. "You’re a lucky $person, aren’t you?" However, before she can touch them, red veins sprout from each seed, the body of the seed turning entirely black. You stare, confused. And so does the lady in front of you. Silence settles for a moment, as you both wait for something, anything to happen. But nothing does and the woman sighs, disappointed at her failed casting. She cracks her knuckles and reaches out to the strange black and red seeds. The seeds pop as her fingers touch it, another wave of smoke, thicker and with an unbearable aroma, filling your lungs. Your vision darkens, heart beating faster. You can only hear the faint sound of a violin. The song’s volume increases, making the image before you clearer. A man stands in a broad, bright room. His eyes are closed, but you know that if they weren't, he would be scowling at you. A woman stands beside him, her sweet voice blending with the music, each note making her voice distort even more. The man opens his eyes and puts the violin aside, his gaze searching for hers. But she has already found something else that has caught her attention. Golden locks are swept by the breeze coming through the windows. She looks back to where you sit, a smile on her face. The woman extends her hand, making the scene change. Your hand is in hers, painted red. A tremor makes the vision dissipate, and you are welcomed back to reality by a pair of dark eyes. The fortuneteller sighs, hand resting on her chest. "Your past still weighs heavy, I cannot look forward." Her voice breaks as she speaks, her body shaking, her eyes bloodshot. "You should go." What was that vision? Was it… Was it a memory from that time? A memory from the year you were marked? You shake your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts; the pain is enough of a reminder. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.<><<if not hasVisited("1.festival.b")>> [[I should visit the inn. Make sure I have somewhere to sleep|1.festival.b]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.festival.c")>> [[Go play a game|1.festival.c]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.festival.a", "1.festival.b", "1.festival.c")>> [[I’ll visit the shrine.|1.festival.d]]<</if>><>

You deposit some rice onto the scale, and once the one in charge is satisfied with the amount he gives you a delicate paper net. There is a large wooden box filled with water in front of you, with small trinkets spread around, some you can’t actually see because of how deep they are into the box. The ones that catch your attention are a miniature sword and what appears to be a little pouch filled with… something. Honestly, the selection is rather lackluster. [[Try to get the sword|1.festival.catch.1][$varchoice to "1"]] [[Try to get the pouch|1.festival.catch.1][$varchoice to "2"]]

This booth is more popular among young lovers, though some older folk visit it as well, especially with their children. The table has a box with small compartments, which have cords attached to them. These cords are for you to pull and, depending on what comes out, you may get a prize. Behind the person running the booth are a few poles, some with toys hanging from it, others bells or small musical instruments. But the possibility of you actually getting something like that is quite low, since the cords also have some fortunes written on the other side. Each prize has a meaning, supposedly, which might be why so many couples love it. You stand in line, next to some teens, staring at each other as if there was nothing else. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait too long for your turn. Before you know it, you stand before the box, surrounded by people hoping to get a chance soon. They wish you good luck, cheerful, full of energy. It's quite contagious, were it not for the theme of the festival, you would almost believe them. You look over the compartments. There are thirty of them, but twelve have already been claimed. You also see another box hidden from view, probably a spare while they change the fortunes on the one already out. The elderly woman in charge extends her palms over to you. Even and odd numbers have different prices, indicating the sort of prize they offer. [[I want a big prize!|1.festival.l1]] [[I’m okay with a regular prize|1.festival.l2]]

The net breaks at the slightest contact, so you need a plan of action before actually submerging it. [[Submerge it at an angle and scoop the object quickly.|1.festival.catch.2]] [[Submerge it at an angle and scoop the object slowly.|1.festival.catch.3][$varchoice1 to "1"]] [[Just go for it. Luck’s on my side.|1.festival.catch.3][$varchoice1 to "2"]]

You set your sights on the prey, floating, close enough that you could put your hand on the water and steal it. Unfortunately, there are too many witnesses, so you settle for doing it the normal way. You breathe in and out, tilting the net to the left. You ignore the cries of the children, telling you to “hurry up already!” The insults won’t deter you. You got this. //I can do this!// With a quick motion you submerge the net, heart pounding as you do. You sense the people around you holding their breaths while you navigate to your prize, or maybe it’s just you. You did just spend money on this so the idea of not getting anything is not entirely pleasant. It’s over in a blink, you feel, done in a single heartbeat. You raise the net and, somehow, the toy remains atop it. <><<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice1 to "">><<set $varchoice to "">><<set $festprize to "sword">><<notify>>This cloth sword might make a good gift<</notify>>You take the trinket into your hands, fearing it will fall right back into the water. The little sword is made of cloth. Three silver lines mark the shape of the blade and a darkish red one draws the silhouette of the hilt. You find yourself staring at the embroidery, the delicate stitches connecting everything together, catch the children staring, too. Satisfied, you grin at the owner, though soon you realize he can't actually see your face. Regardless, he offers you a small bow and bids you goodbye, as those waiting in line stare at your new prize.<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice1 to "">><<set $varchoice to "">><<set $festprize to "seeds">> <<notify>>This set of seeds might make a good gift<</notify>>You take the trinket into your hands, fearing it will fall right back into the water. The pouch is white, almost transparent and, understandably so, soaked. The outline of what lies inside is clear, yet disappointing. The children cling onto you, praising you, eyes glimmering with excitement as they try to get a peek, but you push them away. In truth, the little bag holds only five random seeds, painted with swirls, red and blue. Closing your hand around the pouch, you turn to leave, deaf to the cries of the other festival goers, begging you to show it off, however, you manage to glare at the owner of the booth before doing so. He snickers at you, the nerve of him.<</if>><><><<if not hasVisited("1.festival.a")>> [[I would like to get my fortune told.|1.festival.a]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.festival.b")>> [[I should visit the inn. Make sure I have somewhere to sleep|1.festival.b]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.festival.a", "1.festival.b", "1.festival.c")>> [[I’ll visit the shrine.|1.festival.d]]<</if>><>

You take out your rice filled pouch. These ladies don’t have a scale, and instead charge thirty grains of rice, or its equivalent in any other product, for a chance at a big prize. You look over at the wooden horse. It’s actually very detailed, beautiful craftmanship and, honestly, it would look pretty nice on your desk. It supposedly means that you’ll have a stable, loyal partner, with whom to share a long, prosperous life. Or that your future is secure financially. [[Pull cord number 7|1.festival.win]] [[Pull cord number 25|1.festival.l3][$varchoice to "1"]] [[Pull cord number 19|1.festival.l3][$varchoice to "2"]]

You take out your rice filled pouch. These ladies don’t have a scale, and instead charge twenty grains of rice, or it equivalent in any other product, for a chance at a regular prize. Your gaze falls on a tiny doll hanging from one of the poles. It has a rather simple white and red dress, a little hood covering her face. It’s a bride, meant to symbolize a new partnership. Some believe it also means that you will have an affectionate, trusting relationship, platonic or otherwise. [[Pull cord number 4|1.festival.l3][$varchoice to "2"]] [[Pull cord number 12|1.festival.l3][$varchoice to "1"]] [[Pull cord number 28|1.festival.win]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">>You hold one end of the cord and pull back, making a few pieces of red paper jump out of the compartment. The people around you peek from where they stand trying to take a look at what your message says. "Terrible luck. Be careful in the darkness, something is following." The others pat you in the back, "//you can change destiny//", they say, unaware of the thoughts clouding your mind. "What is this supposed to mean? Something is following?" You exclaim, hands shaking. The woman behind the counter gives you a piece of candy as compensation, but you deny her. "It’s what the Goddess and the spirits spoke to me for that number. You should heed its advice." With a smile, she puts the candy into her own mouth. Her tone is nonchalant, though you can hear her assistant giggling. Is… Is this woman actually intuitive enough to know? Is there any other message for you in this game?<<else>>You hold one end of the cord and pull back, making a few pieces of red paper jump out of the compartment. The people around you peek from where they stand, to take a look at what your message says. "Regular luck. An opportunity for connection is coming." The ones waiting in line behind you congratulate you for avoiding bad luck but, honestly, an actual prize would have been preferable. You look back at the woman behind the counter; on her hand there’s a piece of candy. "This is too vague," you whisper, unimpressed. But the lady hears you and lets out a sigh. "It’s what the Goddess and the spirits spoke to me for that number. It’s up to you what comes next," she answers. You swear you hear a tinge of annoyance in her voice. Should you try again?<</if>> [[Try another strategy|1.festival.lottery]] [[Go to another game|1.festival.catch]] [[I had enough of this|1.festival.catch.fin]]

<><<if $varchoice1 is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">><<set $varchoice1 to "">>You set your sights on the prey, floating, close enough that you could put your hand on the water and steal it. Unfortunately, there are too many witnesses, so you settle for doing it the normal way. You breathe in and out, tilting the net to the left. You ignore the cries of the children, telling you to “hurry up already!” The insults won’t deter you. You got this. Steady wins the race, is the thought coming through your mind. Yet your hand trembles as you get closer to the water. You inhale and exhale and, before letting your mind confuse you anymore, submerge the net into the water. You move your hand towards the toy, floating alone, ready for you. Eyes light up as you see it land on the paper covering the net, managing to survive the trek back. The net is finally out of the water, your new prize finally within reach. Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you reach to take it, so close yet so far. But it was a feeble dream. You don’t manage to do it quick enough, the paper breaks, and the toy sinks back. Hand still in the air, you stare at the small trinket submerge into the water, small bubbles forming in its path. The children next to you point and laugh with a force unfitting of such little bodies, and you can hear some of the nearby adults hiding their snickers behind their sleeves. Your heart feels heavy, disappointment welling in your chest. Will you try again? <<elseif $varchoice1 is "2">><<set $varchoice1 to "">><<set $varchoice to "">>You don’t stop to think things through, instead choosing to get it over with. //It’s just for fun!//, you tell yourself. So you go for your desired trinket without a care, relishing the thrill of the game. You submerge the net in the water, eyes on the prize, heart racing when the trinket lands on the net. However, as you’re pulling back, the paper breaks, dissolving into the water. Your breathing stops as the toy sinks back, you left to stare longingly at your lost prize. So close, yet so far. You stare dumbfounded while the children laugh maniacally, some even taking their masks off to wipe the tears away. //How cruel. Life is so cruel.//<</if>><> [[Try another strategy|1.festival.catch.1]] [[Go to another game|1.festival.lottery]] [[I had enough of this|1.festival.catch.fin]]

<><<if not hasVisited("1.festival.a")>> [[I would like to get my fortune told.|1.festival.a]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.festival.b")>> [[I should visit the inn. Make sure I have somewhere to sleep|1.festival.b]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.festival.a", "1.festival.b", "1.festival.c")>> [[I’ll visit the shrine.|1.festival.d]]<</if>><>

<<if hasVisited("1.festival.l1")>><<set $festprize to "horse">> <<notify>>This wooden horse might make a good gift<</notify>>You hold one end of the cord and pull back, making a few pieces of red paper jump out of the compartment. The people around you peek from where they stand, to take a look at what your message says. "Something grand awaits. That which you seek is within your grasp." A gust of wind makes you shiver, though the cold is the least of your concerns. This is just a vague message on a piece of paper, yet your mind has already decided on its veracity. Some of the people surrounding the booth congratulate you, though others are more preoccupied by the prizes left on the stall. The owner, on the other hand, ignores the chatter and extracts the wooden horse from its resting place. You see her trace the lines decorating its mane, the eyes painted golden, while she sits the little toy on the table surface. "Thank you for participating. I hope you enjoyed your time here." Her voice is dry, though her fingers lace around each other with too much strength. Is she disappointed you won the horse?<</if>><<if hasVisited("1.festival.l2")>><<set $festprize to "doll">> <<notify>>This bridal doll might make a good gift<</notify>>You hold one end of the cord and pull back, making a few pieces of red paper jump out of the compartment. The people around you peek from where they stand, trying to take a look at what your message says. [i]"Someone has their eyes on you." [/i] You frown as the people around clap and cheer, their voices deafened by the thoughts lingering in your mind. Your stomach churns in response, mind foggy. There is something about this message that seems more dangerous than romantic in nature. The older woman carries the little doll in her arms —nary the size of her palm—, shaking the dust covering its kimono, she lifts the white hood that covers the dark brown hair beneath. She sits it atop the table, cold blue eyes fixated on you. "Thank you for participating." She bows, and moves on to the next customer, without another word.<</if>><><<if not hasVisited("1.festival.a")>> [[I would like to get my fortune told.|1.festival.a]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.festival.b")>> [[I should visit the inn. Make sure I have somewhere to sleep|1.festival.b]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.festival.a", "1.festival.b", "1.festival.c")>> [[I’ll visit the shrine.|1.festival.d]]<</if>><>

A few steps in front of the tree is a pillar with an enshrined statue of Omi, Goddess of Serenity. The altar is surrounded by flowers and wood tokens with messages carved on them. Offerings for their deity, though which one exactly they're worshiping is unclear, considering the emory tree. Normally, the image of Omi is not combined with objects related to Vered, however, you doubt the villagers know enough to bother with that. To them, the more protection they have, the better. Now, what should you do? You could pray to the Goddess in search of guidance and protection, or perhaps you could do what most others have done and leave an offering for your father, so he may find his way in the dark. [[I should make an offering to my father|1.shrine.1][$varchoice to "1"]] [[I want to pray|1.shrine.1][$varchoice to "2"]]

<<if $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You stand before the shrine, the dark stone the statue was carved on shines with the moonlight. Not many come to this place, though recent events have made it more popular. People still distrust the Gods, they left once before and there is no guarantee they will not leave again, wreaking havoc in their wake, however when there is immense despair the populace has little else to turn to. There are no heroes in this world, not since the angels left. You recall father saying once that sometimes it’s better not to rely on the divine. And, seeing how things have ended up, it can't be denied that the people of Volarie have learned that all too well. The Goddess has already proven she’s not too keen on your kind, much like the mortals walking her land. Even so, you can’t help but stare at the statue, darkened stone shimmering. The Goddess waits for you, for now, arms open. Will you decline this opportunity to ask for guidance? Your gaze falls on the mark, pulsing lightly. //No.// The bells chime for a few seconds, wind strong still, until there is only you and a cicada’s song. The phrase you had repeated so many times before, the only prayer you ever took the time to learn, can it truly reach her? //Omi, gentle breeze sweeping the branches. Omi, the quiet lull of the night. Omi, the serene watcher of Hyaku, please hear my plea.// You ponder upon the prayer. Upon its meaning, upon your wish. //I yearned for freedom//, that much is true. Yet the thought that follows is much too grim. //And you took my father from me.// You press your eyes shut, trying to keep your emotions at bay. <<if $grief is "depression">>//I… I wanted him to stay with me a little longer...//<<elseif $grief is "bargaining">>//You should have taken me.//<<elseif $grief is "avoidance">>//Should I thank you, though I cannot help but feel how cold, how silent my home is?//<<else>>//I… This isn't what I…//<</if>> Half lidded gaze fixated on the stone, you watch it stare back, or something of the like. //Goddess. Make this feeling disappear at least. What is freedom, if I cannot go a day without feeling miserable and unworthy?// <<if $grief is "depression" or $grief is "bargaining">>//I miss him…//<<else>>//I don't want to miss him.//<</if>> The darkened stone glimmers, moonlight reflected on its surface. You squint. There’s something different about this.<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>There are six smaller emory trees surrounding the larger one. Each one is a place of offerings, it is there where you should leave yours. You hear the small bells attached to the branches swing and produce a delicate sound. They too are painted white. The tree’s trunk, on the other hand, is tied with a sacred rope, an angel sigil carved on its surface. Vered’s sigil. There is a wooden box next to it, filled with flowers and pieces of paper, some thin branches too. Having nothing else to offer you take one of the flowers, tie a piece of paper to the stem and put it with the rest. Closing your eyes, you whisper a prayer to Naila, Goddess of Compassion, and Adell, Angel of Judgement, who watch over the dead. You can feel still the rough texture of the wood, the smoother one of the paper. //"May father find peace in the warmth of their light and the answers he could not find in this life"//. You whisper, your voice breaking just a little. //Father//… Your eyes open, to stare at the little piece of paper, <<if $grief is "depression" or $grief is "bargaining">>//father, what will happen now? What should I do… now that I'm alone?//<<else>>//why am I wasting my time with this? And why does my heart refuse to see what my mind cannot deny? Now that I'm alone, I…//<</if>> There is no answer, how could there be? You said it yourself, there is no one else here but you. You and the cicadas singing in the distance. You and the cool breeze of night. Or at least— A chill shakes you, your hair standing on edge as you wrap your arms around yourself. The cold seeps through the thick cloak, through the kimono and all the layers below it. The colder months are coming, so it shouldn't surprise you, but somehow you can't help but look back. To stare at the shimmering figure of Omi, at her calculating eyes, at her lack of a smile.<</if>> [[Continue|1.shrine.2]]

You shake your head, confused. A glossy liquid has enveloped the figure, the light of the moon reflects on the surface, and you can see it moving ever so slowly, coating it all black. [[Get closer and inspect it.|1.shrine.3][$varchoice to "1"]] [[Step back.|1.shrine.3][$varchoice to "2"]] [[Touch it|1.shrine.3][$varchoice to "3"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">>You squint, trying to make sense of what lays before you. It seems a strange liquid has hold of the statue.<<elseif $varchoice is "2">>You take a step back, legs heavy, heart aflutter. Whatever has happened cannot be good.<<else>> Without a second thought you put your fingers to the stone, its surface covered in a slimy liquid. You quickly move away, shaking whatever that cold substance was off your skin.<</if>> <<set $varchoice to "">> <<include "1.village">>

A series of screeches make you turn, accompanied by the caw of birds —or what you think are birds—, that you can see flying towards the village. You turn your head back and forth, between the festival and the statue, from which the substance flows steadily. Your breathing is desperate as you ponder what to do, eyes watery, heart not too far behind. The liquid is climbing up your legs and you notice it slowly eating away at your clothes. The smell of the osen is too strong here, sweet and nauseating, so much so you can't help but feel lightheaded with so much as a sniff of the air around you. Without any more options, you run away from the shrine. Whatever is happening over there is the monk’s business anyway. [[Continue|1.village.1]]

The lanterns have all been snuffed, leaving the village submerged in darkness. Clouds cover most of the sky, only a bit of moonlight escaping through the gaps. You scan the area for a building to hide in, for people to question about what happened, but the thick fog impedes your vision. [[Call for someone.|1.village.11]] [[Step slowly through the fog.|1.beast.1a][$varchoice to "no lantern"]] [[Use my lantern|1.beast.1b]]

You raise your voice, call echoing in the night. There is no response, no sound but your own voice, actually. You can’t even hear your own heartbeat, that had beaten so loudly before. [[Step slowly through the fog.|1.beast.1a]] [[Use my lantern|1.beast.1b]]

<<if $bold gt $prudent>>You cut through the fog without hesitation, your eyes straining to see what lies beyond. A few times you step on pieces of clay and discarded decorations, courage wavering for a single moment, a gasp escaping your mouth. Nonetheless you soon recover your balance. Nothing will break you. <<else>>Your courage waver as you move, the tip of your feet helping you scan the floor. Most of it it’s covered in pieces of clay and some of the decorations for the festival, but you can see (and feel) little else. Shadows creep on you from the corner of your eye, making you quicken your step. Hopefully you’ll find safety soon.<</if>> <<include "1.beast.2">>

It hangs from a buckle on your belt, undamaged and functional. But there is still the question of how you’ll light it. Regular fire might not work. [[Don't use a vial.|1.beast.1ba][$varchoice to "magic lantern"]] [[Use a vial.|1.beast.1ba][$varchoice to "vial lantern"]] [[I don't want to risk alerting someone of my presence.|1.beast.1ba][$varchoice to "no lantern"]]

<<if $varchoice is "magic lantern">> You snap your fingers and light the lantern with the fire that now covers the tip of your fingertips, the oil reacting immediately. It burns bright, you can see the floor a bit clearer without straining your eyes, but little else. At least you can move without being afraid you’ll trip. <<include "1.beast.1bb">> <<elseif $varchoice is "vial lantern">>You take one of the vials out of your bag and pour it inside the lantern, turning it alight with magic. The fire roars, enveloping it all in a green flame. The light touches a few meters of the street, floor covered in ribbons and broken masks. With this you’ll be safer while you navigate the village. <<include "1.beast.1bb">><<else>>You hang the lantern on your belt. Back to square one then. <<include "1.beast.1a">><</if>>

The lantern is not a perfect tool but it does its job. It cuts through the fog with ease, and soothes some of your nerves. No shadows can sneak on you with it. You move swiftly, evading the discarded toys and damaged stalls. The sweet scent of cherry filled buns still rests in the air, its content smeared on the floor. Those who were spared such a fate, lie on it, covered in dirt. The buildings in your field of vision shine with that strange substance that you saw at the shrine, slowly finding its way along the wood. It’s not worth the effort to try and enter. There is no blood, no footprints, no indications of what did this or where it took the villagers. <<if $bold gt $prudent>>You shiver. Hopefully it has left already.<<else>>You sigh. This is not your day.<</if>> Yet there is little you can do but keep going. [[Continue|1.beast.2]]

The walk is silent, the road devoid of life. But not for long. A new smell permeates the air, a crunching sound accompanying it, stronger with each step. You can see a figure even amidst the fog, much too big to be any creature you had ever seen before. Its skin is tightly wrapped around the bones, a dark substance oozing from what you can only assume is its face. It has large fingers and a dark reddish complexion. The creature is so thin, yet its movements do not show that it has been left to starve. You stand there, heart pounding as the beast bites something in its hands. What it is you can already discern but do you wish to know for certain? [[Run away|1.beast.run]] [[I can’t leave until I find out what happened|1.beast.close]] [[Maybe there’s still something I can do…|1.beast.close]]

<<if $bold gt $prudent>>You clench your fists, as the beast continues to feast. It is entranced in what lays before it, so it might not even notice you running. Would it be feasible to attack it instead? But for what purpose? What could you hope to achieve but your untimely death? The thought leaves you as the beast slurps its current meal and moves onto another. They must not even be alive anymore, though considering the situation, it's for the best they're no longer conscious. <<else>> You swallow hard, eyes fixated on the beast. There is no way you can go against something like that, and you’re even a bit uncertain about whether you would be able to outrun it. You consider drawing your weapon, or resorting to your arsenal of dangerous spells, those father made you swore you would use only when your life was on the line. Shaking fingers touch the leather tome your father left behind, a knot forming in your stomach. Not ready, you’re not ready yet. The thought repeats over and over, chipping what little courage you had.<</if>> What else can be done? This thing… This isn’t natural evolution. You can feel its aura from where you stand, the sweet smell of the osen, mixed with the carnage the creature has relished on. Slowly, you turn around and breathe in, preparing yourself for the trek ahead. A slight itch ails your throat as you inhale the osen’s aroma, making you cough. You put a hand to your neck, unable to breathe properly, unable to run, and yet you know fate is not as merciful as to make the beast not notice your coughing fit. <center>———</center> The creature sniffs the air, prey still in hand. You stand still, wondering which would be worse, risking the run or staying in place. It puts the body back with the rest of the pile. Movements delicate, as if to not damage its new toy. Finally done, it moves, smelling each damaged stall for the source of the noise. Your breathing’s heavy as you watch it take each step. The creature licks one of the toy stalls, but your mind is too dazzled to make sense of what it’s trying to do. The holes where its eyes should be are empty, its mouth is covered in that dark slimy substance corroding Omi. The creature licks the same stall once more and, satisfied, opens its mouth wide, swallowing the broken toy stand whole, each piece of wood melting as it comes into contact with its saliva. It seems caught in the act, so you take the opportunity to run. But though blind, the creature’s hearing is still quite good. A screech escapes its mouth, the earth shaking with it, almost making you tumble. It lunges at you fast. <<if $varchoice is "vial lantern">> You feel its warm breath mid-run and though you know better, sneak a glance back with your lamp held high. The beast shrieks and steps back, covering the holes it has for eyes. For a moment, you swear it’s crying. <<elseif "magic lantern">> You feel its warm breath mid-run and though you know better, sneak a glance back with your lamp held high. Before you can react, it bites the lantern off your hands. Some of the material gets stuck on its teeth, along with the remnants of someone’s clothes and a bit of wood. The beast steps back, coughing, seemingly burnt by the fire. You start moving, before it pukes something unseemly.<<else>> The lamp knocks against your body over and over, making even more sound. You tighten your jaw, but don’t stop moving or reach for it to throw it away. You feel its warm breath mid-run and though you know better, you sneak a glance back, not stopping for even a moment. The creatures follows you with a smile, long arms reaching out to catch you. You duck as it closes a hand over you, dodging the worst of it, though your lamps is not as lucky, bits of it spread on the floor. <</if>> You move out of the way, mind racing. Clearly this thing cannot be outrun. [[Continue|1.fight]]

You move slowly, eyes fixated on the monster before you. <<if $varchoice is "vial lantern">> <<set $varchoice1 to "You find cover behind one of the stalls">>It stands on a pool of blood. Mangled corpses arranged in a pile in front of it, festival clothes torn and painted red. You avert your gaze and cover your mouth and nose as you move closer still, unable to witness the scene and withstand the mixture of sweetness and the distinctive scent of meat. <<elseif $varchoice is "magic lantern">><<set $varchoice1 to "You find cover behind one of the stalls">>You can see the outline of what you can only assume is a pile of bodies atop a crimson pool. The sweet aroma of the osen mixes in with that of bloody flesh, a scent you would rather do without knowing. You cover your nose with your hand.<<else>> <<set $varchoice1 to "You move away, until your foot briefly touches a handmade flute laying on the ground">> The creature bites its prey, one of its limbs falling to the floor, making the blood pooling under it splash over its legs. A drip of saliva falls off the creature’s mouth, dark substance melting the broken limb with ease.<</if>> <<if $bold gt $prudent>> You stand still, hair on edge. How could this thing do so much damage in so little time? <<else>>Trying to calm your nerves you stop your trembling legs and unsteady breathing as best as you can. Visiting the Goddess might have saved you from the worst of it but you still have to find a way to deal with this thing.<</if>> The beast stops moving suddenly, sniffing the air as if something had disturbed it. $varchoice1. It puts its victim —or what’s left of it— down, putting it next to the pile, as it slowly swings its head from left to right. The thing must have a certain degree of intelligence to have formed a pile and know not to move too rashly as to not scare what lingers in the dark. But then again, even imps can develop something akin to intelligence so it shouldn’t come as a surprise. But this... is it an imp, a demon’s slave born from its blood and dark divinity? It certainly looks similar. Or is it a beast of the osen, an animal, once pure and natural, turned, corrupted? It moves once more, and licks the floor where you had once stood. <<if $varchoice is "vial lantern">>[[Continue|1.beast.close.a]]<<elseif $varchoice is "magic lantern">>[[Continue|1.beast.close.b]] <<else>>[[Continue|1.beast.close.c]]<</if>>

It recoils, huffing. Its hands smash the ground, claws digging into the dirt as it screams. It's angry, desperate, making you hold onto the broken stand to maintain your balance. You squint, trying to understand what has angered the beast so. A stain, only a drop of the liquid from the vial; you probably didn’t apply it properly and some got stuck on the lamp’s exterior and spilled as you walked while the rest evaporated into smoke. That brings up another question: Did the smoke alert the beast that a magic user was nearby? Or was it the drops spilling from the lamp? The beast inhales, its chest rising. It looks in your direction, or it seems to since it has no eyes but a pair of empty cavities where the eyes should be. //Oh no.// It lunges at you, claws barely missing you. You land on the lantern, the material breaking apart under your weight. The fire dissipates and you are too close to easily get away. Not to mention the repercussions leaving it to wander the woods unattended would have. [[Continue|1.fight]]

It stops, again sniffing the air. It seems confused as it moves its head from one side to the other, though you cannot be sure of what you're seeing from where you stand. Surely amongst so many odors your tainted blood will not stand out, right? Though, if it truly is a tainted creature, demonic or otherwise, it may be able to sense others like it. Slowly, the creature moves in your direction, empty eye cavities staring into you. [[Let it get closer, I need more information about this thing!|1.beast.close.ba][$varchoice1 to "1"]] [[Change positions and continue observing.|1.beast.close.ba][$varchoice1 to "2"]] [[I've seen enough. Time to leave!|1.beast.close.ba][$varchoice1 to "3"]]

The moonlight cuts through the fog more than when you first got to the village, yet the creature's figure remains a silhouette amidst the shadows. You hear it sniffing the air, its steps making the earth beneath tremble. The creature's silhouette slowly moves toward your hiding spot. [[Move away from danger|1.beast.close.ca][$varchoice to "advantage"]] [[Attack before it attacks me|1.fight][$varchoice to "advantage"]]

<> <<if not hasVisited("1.fight.sp")>> <<if $class is "alchemist">>[[Take out my spellbook|1.fight.sp]]<</if>><</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.fight.en")>> <<if $class is "enchanter">>[[Attack the creature with my sword|1.fight.en]]<</if>><</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.fight.el")>> <<if $class is "elementalist">>[[Ground myself and attack|1.fight.el]]<</if>><</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.fight.a")>> [[Throw the vials at the creature's face|1.fight.a]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.fight.b")>> [[Use my surroundings to evade it|1.fight.b]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("1.fight.c")>> [[Conjure a shield|1.fight.c]]<</if>><>

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<if $bold gt $prudent>>You hold your position and stare back, excitement building in your chest. You will not let this opportunity pass you by.<<else>>You stop breathing for a moment, senses going numb. Your heart beats faster, the hand holding the lamp trembling slightly, and your vision is fuzzy. But you're determined to see this through.<</if>> It moves and positions itself above your hiding spot, sniffing the air. Its long claws drip with blood and you can see its chest rise with every breath, the bones visible even in the midst of the dim light of your lantern. In the empty holes it has for eyes you're able to see a faint red light, so small it gives the impression that a weak breeze may extinguish it. The beast opens its mouth, toothless and oozing that dark substance. It takes you a moment to register what's about to happen but your body reacts faster than your mind, dodging the beast's bite. It seems you have no more time. <<elseif $varchoice1 is "2">> You steady your breath and match your steps with those of the creature, careful not to draw attention to yourself.Its long claws drip with blood and you can see its chest rise with every breath, the bones visible even in the midst of the dim light of your lantern. In the empty holes it has for eyes you're able to see a faint red light, so small it gives the impression that a weak breeze may extinguish it. The beast opens its mouth, toothless and oozing that dark substance. It takes you a moment to register what's about to happen but your body reacts faster than your mind, dodging the beast's bite. It seems you have no more time.<<else>>You move slowly from stall to stall, aided by the dim light of your lantern. You can see well enough to avoid the wreckage, but the creature follows you wherever you go, faster with each step. You may not be fast enough to lose its trail. In the forest you'll be at a disadvantage, though, since it's still confused as to your whereabouts, you may be able to strike first.<<set $varchoice to "advantage">><</if>> [[Continue|1.fight]]

You kneel and crawl from stall to stall, pushing aside the remnants of the creature's rampage. It follows, a little faster than you can crawl, but without a light source it'll be more dangerous to run. You sigh, weighting your options. You were hoping to leave without getting into more unnecessary danger but it seems fate has other plans for you. [[Continue|1.fight]]

<<if $varchoice is "advantage">><<set $varchoice to "">><<set $varnum to $varnum + 2>>You take the spellbook out of your bag, eyes fixated on the creature's movements. It continues its pattern of slow steps, unsure. It moves its head from side to side, sniffing the air in an attempt to find your location. You flip the pages, looking for the particular glow only usable spells possess. Some are already burned, the spells extinguished from the book, making the paper crumble under your touch, but it still has some life left. You stop, a purple flame drawn on one of the pages. Fire spells are easy enough to do without a spellbook, but considering that creature's size and your lack of actual light, it can only be a good idea to use it. With your feet firmly planted on the ground you make the book levitate by your side. You breathe in and out, slowly, feeling power build on the tip of your fingers. The book glows as the page is covered in a burst of purple fire. You raise your hand and aim the spell at the creature. A flurry of flames is expelled from the page. The creature cries out once it comes into contact with its skin, its hands covering its face as it loses balance. But now it knows where you are, and once the pain subsides it screams, running towards you. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>> <<else>><<set $varnum to $varnum + 1>>You dodge out of the way as the beast's claws draw closer to you, hand digging into your bag seeking your spellbook. You touch the inscription on the front, your name embroidered in the leather, and take it out. You open the book without looking at more than the glowing symbol, and levitate it in front of you. You push the energy out of your fingers, absorbed by the book, causing a gust of wind to come out of the page. The fog dissipates somewhat, moonlight shining through. The creature hisses, slightly bothered but otherwise unharmed, and now there's an opening in your defenses. It lashes out as you bring your arms up to shield yourself, too surprised to conjure a shield. You fall backwards, a quiet whimper caught in your throat. Blood seeps through your clothes, but you stand up anyways. You endured worse. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>><</if>>

<<if $varchoice is "advantage">><<set $varchoice to "">><<set $varnum to $varnum + 2>>You unsheathe your sword, eyes fixated on the creature's movements. It continues its pattern of slow steps, unsure. It moves its head from side to side, sniffing the air in an attempt to find your location. The sigils react to your touch, lighting the blade and the area around you. Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you, slashing the skin of the creature, no blood dripping from it. It lets out a cry, momentarily stunned. You take the opportunity to attack once more, swinging your sword over and over as the beast moves backwards, unable to react in time to counter. The blade's enchantment flickers as it touches the dark substance covering the creature's skin. It has done a lot of damage but the enchantments are losing power quick, probably because of the dark magic they had to repel. The creature roars, now recovered. A new strategy would be beneficial. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>> <<else>><<set $varnum to $varnum + 1>>You unsheathe your sword, quickly pulling it over your face, parrying one of the creature's attack. The enchantment symbols light up as its claws scratch the blade, and you stumble backwards, almost losing balance. The creature screams, desperate, claws meeting the blade over and over. There are no openings, and the creature's impatient movements are starting to wear out the enchantments much too fast. You breathe in slowly, and breathe out just as slow, as the beast raises one of its arms. Magic builds up on your fingertips, passing through to the blade. This one attack has to be strong enough to stun it or you'll be in trouble. The claws barely miss you, but your blade does not. You slash the creature's stomach, a bolt of light taking hold of the sword. Heartbeat quickens but you attack once more, making the creature move back a few steps. It screams, a faint red light momentarily filling its eye sockets. You swing once more, the symbols drawn on it starting to flicker, but the blade does not touch the skin. The beast takes you in its hands, something akin to a laugh coming out of its mouth as it raises you to eye level. Your arms are trapped between its fingers, its hold tight, leaving you breathless. It stops laughing, that faint light can again be seen filling its eyes. Its hold tightens even more as it moves its arm backwards and launches you into the air, making you crash into a building, your body falling limp to the floor. Your head aches as you struggle to remain conscious. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>><</if>>

<<if $varchoice is "advantage">><<set $varchoice to "">><<set $varnum to $varnum + 2>>You breathe in and out, feeling your stomach expand as you exhale, contract as you inhale. All thoughts focused on the movements of your body. You feel your heartbeat slow down while a slight spark of magic builds up on your fingertips, as you remove your shoes and feel the dirt on your skin. A bit of moonlight cuts through the fog, making the claws of the creature shimmer, the dark substance too. You hold your breath as fire forms around your hands. You breathe out and put your hands together, sending a fiery whirl towards the creature. It falls back, confused, but quickly recovers. It sniffs the air and screams, running towards you. Standing in position, you observe the creature as it comes closer. Some of the fire has adhere itself to its skin, or the dark substance covering it, you can't tell; it might not work to attack it directly. The creature jumps at you, claws barely missing your face. You duck, sending another fireball, this time to its neck. It screams, much louder this time, as it moves away, eyes still trained on you. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>> <<else>><<set $varnum to $varnum + 1>>You breathe in and out slowly as you move out of the way of each of the creature's attacks. While in active combat like this, and so close to the creature too, it's difficult to focus on an element to force to follow your commands. You step back once more, barely avoiding the creature's grasp, until your back hits something solid. You touch its surface, soft wood, a wall, a stall that's still in place. Breathing in and out slowly, you plant your feet firmly on the ground, one of your hands still touching the wall. You exhale again, already feeling exhausted. The creature moves and you react immediately. A spark of magic touches your fingertips as you duck and push the stall upwards, the earth parting beneath your feet. The stall crashes against the beast's face, making it fall backwards with a pained moan as a slew of knives and wooden figurines fall too. You pant, and put a hand above your heart as you take a moment to breathe. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>><</if>>

<<set $varnum to $varnum + 1>>Desperately, you rummage around your bag looking for the vials. You find a small leather pouch where your coins are, a bundle of herbs, a bottle with just a little glue left —for your mask— and a dozen other things you really wish you hadn't brought, until a warm surface meets your fingers and you let out a sigh of relief. You throw the vials as the creature draws closer, the glass breaking on contact with its skin. The liquid momentarily colors its skin yellow and the creature screams, hands clawing at the place where the vials broke down. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>>

<<set $varnum to $varnum + 1>>You move to one of the stalls, creature trailing behind, evading the debris. The beast is fast. You can feel its breath, warm and sweet, closer than you would like, but fortunately for you its rampage did not destroy the entire village. It bites into one of the stalls you had been running to, the wood melting in its mouth, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. The stall in question was filled to the brim with evil warding charms. The creature screams, bothered, but not too unharmed. Fortunately that worked. <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>>

Though your mind is anything but clear at this moment you know a shield will be easy enough to conjure. The creature raises its hand, claws bare, and quickly slashes the area where you stand. You close your eyes for a moment and raise your hands to shield your face, instincts kicking in. A dull thump accompanies every slash, as its claws touches your shied. You sigh, relieved that you somehow have enough strength to create a complete barrier. But still, if you don't take action now, you will eventually tire and the creature will have you in its grasp. <<if $class is "alchemist">><<set $varnum to $varnum + 2>>Without breaking your focus on keeping the shield up, you take your spellbook out of your bag and levitate it in front of you while looking for a suitable spell. You find a light spell, the page brand new. You tend to avoid these ones since it's quite potent and can rarely be reused, however, this seems like a good time to try it. The book's pages now face towards the creature, who still tries to break through your defense. Without stopping to question your actions, you let the page absorb all of the energy previously used by the shield. The area is filled with a blinding light, warm, somehow uncomfortable. The creature screams, the sound deafening you for a moment. You don't have to watch to know your spell worked wonders.<<elseif $class is "alchemist">><<set $varnum to $varnum + 2>> Without breaking your focus on keeping the shield up, you steady your breathing. You concentrate on the electricity that seems to take hold of your hand; a spark of power. You hold onto this feeling, and when you're ready, break the shield, a flurry of flames coming out of your hands. The fire touches the creature's skin, making it cry out in pain.<<else>><<set $varnum to $varnum + 2>>Without breaking your focus on keeping the shield up, you unsheathe your sword. The sigil shining with a dim light. Attacking with a weapon like this is not the most effective strategy, but you're running out of options. You study the creature's movement, looking for an opening. You count the seconds it takes to land a blow, in search for a pattern to exploit. Six, eight, five, eight, ten. You try to keep the shield up for as long as needed, however, you can already feel the strain, your mind starting to lose itself. On the fifth attack you decide to pull down the shield, and though your body begs you for rest you push it further, attacking with every ounce of strength you can muster.<</if>> <<if $varnum gt 2>><<link "Continue" "1.end">><</link>><<else>>But it's not enough.<<include "1.fight">><</if>>

<<notify>>Your game has been autosaved<</notify>> The creature whines, its cries shadowing every other sound. Its blood spills, the inky substance managing to touch your arm. Your head aches, vision blurry, as you try to take the opportunity to find shelter, all the while tearing the stained sleeve off your kimono. It continues to scream, a call for its brethren, the beasts from the woods, that answer by echoing the sound from within the forest. The mark pulses in response, lacerating the skin beneath, warmth spreading across your palm. You heave, painful breaths, chest tight. You force your legs to move, each step slow and heavy, the world spinning as you walk. A final cry makes you scream as well, the pounding in your skull unbearable. But the screams echo in your ears, and your body has little strength to fight the impulse to drop to the floor. <<link "It's over" "chapter 2">><<set $chapter to "Chapter 2: A night without moonlight">><</link>>

<<set $varnum to 0>><<if hasVisited("1.krun")>>$k lets out a long, drawn out sigh. $They_k $was_k supposed to have returned already, $they_k $was_k supposed to capture you and bring you with $him_k. But instead $they_k stand$s_k there, staring at the figure of $his_k old… //No.// $They_k shake$s_k $his_k head, letting out yet another sigh. What had possessed $him_k to walk closer? To inspect the scene and make sure $they $was still alive? $They_k had followed this instinct with little resistance and $was_k now at an impasse. //What now?// Were $they_k like $his_k kin, $they_k would take $him and drag the prize back home. But… $k stares at the mask, at the figure breathing heavily, at the clothes stained red. $They_k kneel$s_k, slowly, as if dragging out this moment as long as possible. $They_k could blame it on $his_k need to feed, on the heavy scent of blood that drove $him_k closer. But, as $they_k stare at the white mask on $his face, as $they_k lean in to touch the smooth, porcelain surface, $they_k know these excuses are just that. Things to distract $herself_k from the truth. A scream takes $him_k out of $his_k dreamlike state, out of the heavy daze taken over $his_k mind. $k stands up immediately, feeling flustered at $his_k actions. $They_k can't let these feelings win. It is $his_k life against yours. And $they_k $have_k given too much already.<<else>>"We shouldn't be here." $masa stands by the street, where the light shines a little brighter, $his_m back against where Hazuki and the body of their newest acquaintance rests. "Hazuki, are you listening to me?" "Yes, yes." His voice is a bit chipper, excited that his first aid lessons have served him well. Fingers finish tying a small bow on your left hand, covering the mark and shielding the injuries. "Aren't you glad I brought a healing kit?" "Then you go and say that I'm paranoid." $masa rolls $his_m eyes. "Besides what are you wasting them on a stranger for?" "Well, you //are// paranoid. Or immensely cautious at the very least," he counters, standing back up. "And…" Hazuki crosses his arms above his chest, head hung low. "No one came to claim them." A small sigh comes out of $masa's mouth, gaze cast away. "People are busy, Hazuki. They are going to prioritize their families and friends, not a random passerby. Once people start to gather the bodies, they'll pass by here and see $him, take $him to the doctor." Hazuki stays quiet for a moment. "Right." "Something wrong?" He shakes his head, long strands of brown hair swaying as he does. "No, nothing. Forget it. We should get going." $She_m sighs. "Finally." They look back at you before leaving. There is no indifference but a mutual understanding that you cannot be helped, not by them. Though their motivations and feelings do not match, they pity those left to suffer the brunt of the osen.<</if>> [[Continue|2.1]]

Something in your face gives her pause, her mouth slighly open as she stares at you. It is more curiosity than caution, but you can't help the cold sweat running down the back of your neck, how your stomach turns under her scrutiny. "You know…" she begins to say and you hold your breath just a tiny bit longer, expecting the worst. But then she laughs and shakes her head, setting the brush aside. "It's funny, people rarely use such plain masks on festival, but with some of the little priestesses attending, I've seen them so often today." //Of course.// Just like that, the brief moment of relief leaves you entirely. Had it not been for the mask, it's quite possible you would not have been able to hide your horror at the word 'priestess'. You swallow hard, now's not the time for panic. You are alone in a place where you have no allies, which is basically everywhere but regardless. Information is power in a situation like this. "The temple attendants are here?" Your voice sounds strained. Forcing your heart to settle, your breathing to pace, it gives the sound a very clear pitch that you can only hope the music outside has camouflaged. "Yes, isn't that marvelous?" The woman puts her hand under her chin, nodding along. "The High Priestess came by yesterday as well, it really lifted everyone's spirits. She left earlier though. Such a shame, she is such a polite girl." "That's how you know this place is doomed." The man retorts, standing up in a flash. He raises a cane you hadn't seen before and paces around while smacking the ground with it. No amount of 'stop that' from the innkeeper get him to go back to the chair. "The High Priestess coming all the way here? That can only mean something's brewing!" He raises his arms to the air, his steps more panicked, his voice trembling. "I mean, the kids visiting makes sense. They're just kids, after all. They normally bring them under the pretense of helping with rituals so they can play instead. But a High Priestess…" "Don't listen to him. She's a young woman and she has been working so hard, it's normal to want to take a break." She huffs, her grip on the brush tighter as she looks over to her husband. "Besides, the temple is close by, why wouldn't she come by to reassure us that we're safe?" "Right," you say, somehow managing a little laugh to accompany the innkeeper's. Fortunately, she is too bothered by the entire situation to notice the strain. You'll just have to hope you don't run into any of the members of the temple. "In any case…" The woman reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a key. "This is yours," she says as she puts it on one side of the scales resting on the table. Though back in Aveli coins were commonly used for trading, such a system has never been successfully implemented here. Instead, you take out from your bag a cloth pouch filled with rice, and deposit some of it opposite to the key. You really could have used anything to trade, but rice is so much smaller and convenient. The handful of rice fits comfortably on the plate, making a light clinking sound as it touches the metal. It's unbalanced, the key a little above the rice grains. [[Take some of the rice back.|1.festival.b1][$varchoice to "1"]] [[Leave it. It’s not that much anyways.|1.festival.b1][$varchoice to "2"]]

<center>//Thank you for playing! This is the end of the demo. Be sure to let me know of any problems you may have had while playing. Have a nice day!//</center>

You’re surrounded. People dance, cladded in their best clothing, dazzling colors weaving together as they move. The melody of the violin fills the entire room, sound knocking against your skull. The chandeliers line up the roof, light spheres, where the candles should be, bathe the ballroom with a pale light. //This place is cold and suffocating, and yet so familiar.// You can’t help but think as you evade the dancing guests. //This house. This is where…// A round of applause interrupts the music, and the people around you seem to dissipate into the air, though their laughter and chatter don’t. There is a woman in the middle of it all, with golden hair and a dark blue dress embroidered with pearls. She briefly gazes at you, with her bright green eyes. [[Continue|2.2]]

Head pounding, you awaken in a warm, small dormitory. Your throat burning up along with the rest of your body and a bitter taste in your mouth. Two candles encapsulated held by metal hang from the roof, shining light on the surrounding furniture. There is a large cabinet which contents you cannot discern, a dresser with an open drawer, struggling to remain in place; a table lined with bottles, bandages, two books and what you can only assume to be your bag. The nightstand next to you has some surgical equipment, clean, fresh bandages too. And the walls are decorated with assorted paintings and calligraphy. ‘Guidance’ it says. Movements are slow, sight blurry, yet you find the strength to sit, memories rushing in. The creature, the festival, that sweet scent that somehow still lingers. Why did it have to end up like this? This village wasn’t well protected, yes, but… Why did it have to happen while you were visiting? <<link " CONTINUE" "2.3">><</link>>

"Makoto? What’s wrong?" The voice startles you, nonetheless, you manage to remain quiet. "What happened with the patient?" he continues, only a tinge of worry noticeable in his words. You look towards the door, two silhouettes barely visible through the screen. "Master Kazuya, it’s terrible! The patient is…" The smaller figure begins, voice trembling, words slurred. "Relax," he says, getting closer, "we’ll help. It’s not the osen so—" "It’s worse!" There’s a small pause, silence regnant. You look yourself over. A few bandages with hints of red cover your right leg and another hides the mark, but little else. "There’s…" he pauses, ragged breathing follows. "There’s a mark on the patient’s hand but I didn’t think much of it, looked like the one some of the warriors from the Oshimono clan have tattooed on their backs." "I-I… I see…" The other man responds, almost holding his breath. "But $his eyes! They’re black, Master!" The young apprentice cries out. "A demon’s eyes." You touch your forehead, heart beating faster, hands shaking. The cold skin of your palm soothes the headache somewhat, soft tissue beneath your fingertips. //My mask!// You look over the room once more but it’s either not there or you’re too panicked to see it. "Are you certain of this, Makoto? It’s quite dark, after all." He retorts, raising his voice, hands clinging to the other’s shoulders. "I’m sure, Master. I almost passed out when I saw them, felt like I would be drawn into a void, like I was falling right into the dark pits of the Abyss." The man lets go of his apprentice, pacing along the hallway. His steps are heavy against the wood, his breathing ragged, nervous. "Go tell the priestess." The young apprentices takes a step back. "Master?" "Go tell the priestess," the other insists, "I’ll make sure that beast doesn’t escape or disturb the patients." "You’ll stay here alone?" He shakes his head, nerves making his small frame shake. "But—" "Go tell the priestess!" The apprentice remains still, short, ragged words that cannot be heard. There is nothing that he can say to change his master's mind, and so the silence is broken only by the sigh of resignation the young man lets out. "I understand, Master Kazuya," he says and, with a slight bow, his figure disappears from view. The older man stares at the door, as if debating whether to go in or not. He paces around for a minute, speaking under his breath. "This is what I get for leaving the capital…" he mutters. //Of course, all that fancy equipment cannot be from any old village doctor.// With a heavy sigh, one that has him shaking, he turns around and walks away. You doubt he’ll be absent for long. You hold in a sigh of your own, fingers clinging to the soft blanket covering your body. Though leaving seems like the best course of action, there is a problem: There are no windows, only a single sliding door, which means you must venture out of the room and confront the doctor, unless you're feeling up to destroying the walls and drawing attention to yourself. The wounds sting as you move out of the bed. Your head throbs, your stomach grumbles. But there’s no time for nourishment or rest. You study the room for a moment. The medicine in the cabinet catches your eye, numerous bottles lined up by size glisten in the light of the lantern; the books, on closer inspection, have a pristine leather cover, almost brand new. You search the drawers, the shelves, but the mask is nowhere to be seen. The young apprentice must have taken it with him. Defeated, you take back your bag from the table, its contents, at least at first sight, seem undisturbed. <><<if $class is "knight enchanter">>A sword lies against the wall close to the door, a single symbol etched onto the blade. You take it and attach it to your belt once more. Good thing the apprentice wasn’t smart enough to put it away.<<else>><</if>><> [[Continue|2.4]]

The door opens in a swift motion, with you three mere steps away from it. The man on the other side has a light blue mask, with a white smile drawn where the mouth should be, yet he shakes at the sight of you, taking a step back. His curly hair clings to the exposed parts of his face, drenched in sweat. A sword stands between the two of you. His hands hang on to it with a strength the rest of him does not have. "S-step back, beast!" he stumbles over his words, conviction wavering. [[Reach out to touch it|2.4.a][$varchoice is "1"]] [[He can't possibly know how to use that, can he?|2.4.a][$varchoice is "2"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">>You reach out to touch the tip of the blade, a single thought on your mind: //There is no way a doctor has a real weapon in his house, apart from his medical equipment. Though I guess these are difficult times for everyone, even doctors from the capital.// He sees you move and, heart beating faster than he can think, swings the sword around. You stagger back, feet almost failing to keep you standing, eyes wide, fever rising up. His movements are unstable, random, however, even in the hands of an unexperienced fighter a sword could cause a lot of damage, to both parties involved. "Your tricks won’t work on me, demon!" He seems pleased with himself, perhaps noticing the frown on your face as you are pushed farther into the room. But the doctor is just deluding himself, he is no warrior, and you are not to be trifled with.<<else>>//It’s not a real weapon, is it?// You think, while staring with wide eyes at the sword pointed at your chest. //I suppose even a doctor would need something to defend himself with, especially someone that hails from the capital.// Even in the hands of an unexperienced fighter, a sword can do great damage and, if you don’t react fast enough, you could be the one on the losing side. "You’re not welcome here, demon!" he says as he swings the weapon around, blade cutting the fabric covering your shoulder. His movements are random, careless, doubtful. He knocks off bottles and paintings while you evade him, at times distracted by the mess left behind. He even seems to pull back a little every time the blade gets too close to your skin, as if pitying you. You breathe in and out in an attempt to remain expressionless, to not show weakness, however, you’re unable to hide the frown forming on your face. The wounds on your leg start to burn, and the headache remains your worst contender, each pulse dizzying your vision. You need to decide how to handle this situation before whatever ailment has taken you decides for itself.<</if>> <<include [[2.5]]>>

[[Talk it out|2.5.a][$varchoice to "1"]]<<if $class is "enchanter">> [[Unsheathe my sword|2.5.a][$varchoice to "2"]]<</if>> [[Throw objects at him|2.5.a][$varchoice to "3"]] [[Use magic|2.5.a][[$varchoice to "4"]]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">> A gasp escapes you as you move out of the way, the blade barely missing your scalp. "Oh, dear." The doctor whispers, giving you some time to get back on your feet. "We can talk about this. I know you don’t want to hurt me. You’re a doctor, you cure injuries not cause them!" You force a smile but, considering the circumstances, its sincerity is unconvincing. "I could never make a deal with a creature of the Abyss!" he says, his words interrupted every so often by his uneven breathing. He doesn’t even notice his grip on the sword is wavering. You suppress a sigh, half worry, half pity at the man's state. "I understand your concerns, truly. But I am certain that we can find some common ground." You pause, trying to make sense of his expression, but unfortunately, he is as rattled as before and his face is covered. However, during this momentary respite he hasn’t made a move to hurt you. He's still afraid. "Doctor, let me leave. No one has to get hurt." Just the word hurt makes his shaking hands tremble even more. He shakes his head fervently, straightening his posture and forcing his hand to settle. "As if I would believe you’re capable of leaving without causing any more chaos. You’re a witch! A demon’s spawn!" he retorts. "I— I can’t let you go. You’re the cause of all this! All that has happened, all the people lost…” //Of course.// "I had nothing to do with the beast that attacked the festival. And as you can see, it hurt me too." You answer, showing off the bandages, where the faint traces of blood have widened, darkened, seeped through the cloth. "Besides, you heard me speak. I'm not like the shinmoku." "So, you’re an amateur." He snickers at his own lame joke. "And an outcast too." You bite your tongue. //Don't provoke the doctor. I'm too injured to survive a mob or hide a body right now.// "Listen very clearly, doctor." You start, slowing down your words, lowering your tone. You need to keep calm, to breathe, for the sake of your injuries, for your safe escape. <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"There are two types of people in this world. Dead people and alive people. Which one do you enjoy being?<<else>>You are no warrior. I have been trained to use magic since I was a little child. Think of the odds here. Who's at a disadvantage?"<</if>> "I—" He swallows hard, gaze set on the glistening blade. On the surface there is the reflection of the candles and the side of your face. "You're injured, you can't—" <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"I'm still standing. Much like you, if I'm standing, I can fight. And I must tell you, I'm quite good at fighting. I am alive after all, no thanks to annoying humans."<<else>>"I am injured but I am a survivor and a talented caster. Are you sure you want to figure out whether I have the energy to kill you here and now?"<</if>> The doctor doesn't answer, silent for what is a very long and exhausting minute. Finally, the doctor collapses, sobbing into his sleeve. The sword falls to the wooden floor, a heavy sound echoing in the house. <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Spin the tale whichever way you like. I won't be here to listen anyway."<<else>>"Thank you for seeing reason, doctor."<</if>> But he stops you, his words stammering over each other, his mask no longer hiding his tears. "Please, don’t hurt them. I beg you." You look back at him. He has a couple of bandages covering his left eye, deep scratch marks on his cheeks. "Why would I?" He looks down, but says nothing else. And with that answer you leave the shell of the doctor behind.<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You sigh as the doctor lunges at you, blade raised high. //I guess there is no other option.// Under normal circumstances, evading an untrained man with little to no stamina would be far easier. He’s gasping for breath, waving his weapon around without regard to his surroundings, to how close he is from harming himself. He has almost tripped on his own feet several times But you’re not doing much better. You’re sweating profusely, body radiating warmth that makes the tightness in your chest all the more difficult to handle. And so this endeavor is taking longer than normal, longer than the time you actually have at your disposal. You touch the hilt of your own sword and unsheathe it from its resting place, not giving a moment for doubt to settle in. "Where did you get that!?" he exclaims. You answer by planting your feet firmly on the ground and lunging your sword forward. The room is small, full of cabinets and a large table, so there really isn't much room for him to hide. Instead, he steps back, the shock making him lose balance and fall to the floor, the blade escaping his grasp. The doctor tries to crawl away, but before he can you plant the tip of the blade in between his legs, catching part of his clothing with your weapon. He shrieks. "This is a warning, doctor." You say, staring at him. His eyes —or eye, since the other is covered with a piece of cloth— appear watery, his entire body trembles. "Not only do I possess a power you don’t understand, but I, unlike you, actually know how to use my sword.|I need to leave, understand? Don't make things difficult." He opens his mouth, however, no words come out, he openly sobs instead. <<if $bitter gt $kind>> "A single strike, didn’t even hit you, and you’re already in this sorrowful state." You shake your head and push his sword away with your foot. He gazes at the far-off weapon, lying beneath the apothecary, but doesn’t attempt to take it. "I commend you for trying, but honestly, there was no contest." He looks up at you, in silence, and, in a hush, he manages to say: "Please, don’t hurt the patients, I beg you. I was the one who attacked you, I—" "I have no intention of staying longer than necessary." "Thank you, thank you!" You turn your back on him and walk towards the door. Whatever time could be spent tying him is better spent leaving before more people decide to pay a visit to the doctor.<<else>>"Don’t be melodramatic, you’re safe." You push his sword away with your foot and kneel in front of him. He gazes at the far-off weapon, lying beneath the apothecary, but doesn’t attempt to take it. "What would killing you create but more discontent?" "Please, don’t—" "I’m leaving. It was my intention from the start." You stand up and walk towards the door. The man is much too scared to be a menace now. <</if>><<elseif $varchoice is "3">><<set $varchoice to "">> A gasp escapes you as you move out of the way, the blade barely missing your scalp. The doctor heaves for breath as he attempts another attack. This time though, he stumbles over his clothes, his body slumped forwards while he reaches to the table for support. The blade’s hold falters, his hands shaking, and you take the opportunity to kick the old man’s left hand. The attack connects, making the sword fall from his hands, your ankle feeling the blow of it all. It wasn’t a particularly strong attack, yet it was enough force that the injuries caused by the creature send a wave of pain through your body. You bite your lip, holding back a whimper, you can’t dwell on the sensation coursing through you, not now. A glimmer of gray catches your eye as you create distance between you, careful not to put too much pressure on the swollen ankle. Their surgical equipment lies out in the open, some still lying on the table, along with what few bottles haven’t littered the floor with glass shards. The doctor raises his gaze and groans. He put his hand on the cabinet, his fingers cling to the shelf but only for a moment. Another groan, and a loud thud as he falls to the floor. On instinct, you step closer. The man sits on the floor, examining his naked feet. Small drops of blood color the wooden boards, as he whimpers and takes out the glass shards. <<if $emotional gt $stoic>>"I can’t believe this is happening to me." You mutter under your breath, as you walk away from the wailing man.<<else>>A gasp escapes you as you move out of the way, the blade barely missing your scalp.<</if>> <<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>Casting magic under stress, injured and in such a small place is normally something you would not attempt, yet the situation demands you let go of reason or you might end up facing a terrible end. The doctor runs towards you, blade raised high. He roars and you evade him just before he manages to strike, with your foot obstructing his way, you make him tumble forward. Your vision is blurry for a moment, the sudden movement makes the headache more intense, and the clash of his feet with yours send a jolt of pain through your leg. <<if $class is "alchemist">> You reach for your spellbook, flipping through the pages, while the man gets back on his feet. A wind spell catches your eye. You breathe in and out, ignoring the raspy feeling of your dry throat. The book levitates in front of you, in your mind the symbols of each spell are clear. For this one you had chosen to represent the wind as a dandelion being blown away by the breeze. The page glimmers in a soft green light. A gust of wind pushes you both back, it sends all objects flying, trapped in a whirl. The cabinet’s door rattles, the vases and boxes stacked atop them move from one side to the other and fall when the doctor clashes against the door. A loud thud is produced when they hit his head, rendering him unconscious. There is no sign of blood, and you can see his fingers twitch just slightly. But, even when the spell fades entirely, the doctor makes no effort to move at all. You take the opportunity to leave the room behind.<<else>>You breathe in and out slowly, until your heartbeat has calmed. Fire wouldn’t be appropriate, since it could burn the whole house down. As for water, well there doesn’t seem to be any nearby for you to use for your purposes. The man rises, sword in his hand, and you take a step back. Earth it is. You take off your shoes, hoping you have enough energy to break through the wooden boards. The earth shakes beneath you, a sliver of power travels from your feet to your hand. You close it, catching before it leaves. The boards break apart, the objects laid on the table and atop the cabinets move erratically, until they finally fall to the floor. The doctor stumbles backwards, he holds onto the cabinet’s door, but the door opens and his body is pushed left and right with each quake. A few bottles fall, the contents spilled on the floor mix, exuding a green fume. You put your hands over your nose, the sleeves diminishing the amount of fume you inhale. Still, you feel your throat itch with each breath, your vision hazes, as the spell starts to fade. After the quaking subsides, you remain in place a moment, as does the doctor, though his body wobbles slightly. The effects, too, start to disappear, if only a little, and you take the opportunity to stand up. The doctor grumbles under his breath, attempting to follow suit, but before he can take a step forwards, he collapses. A few moments pass, yet the doctor does not wake. There is nothing to be done, it’s time to leave.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|2.6]]

You close the door behind you with a sigh, stepping into the barely lit hallway. There is no one nearby, though you can hear the ragged breathing of the patients next door, their pained moans and the murmured praying those awake let out. It's difficult to tell how long it has been since the attack and how much time dealing with the doctor took. Who knows how far the High Priestess was in the first place? If she is nearby, there is no place you can run without her sensing you. It's possible the doctor might have known he wouldn’t be able to keep you occupied for too long, but knowing that the High Priestess and her young apprentices are nearby might have given him the courage to try and buy her enough time to come over. You massage your forehead, warm and dry, fighting off the haze clouding your thoughts. There are no windows, just three doors, and a staircase leading to the second floor, which you don’t care enough to investigate. Without many more options, you step into the door to your right. The door leads into the living room. It's desolate, with only the breeze clashing against the window and the squeak of a mouse, hiding somewhere below the wooden boards. Paintings depicting nature cover the walls, along with a few snuffed out candles. There is also a small shrine on the east area of the room, surrounded by a few flowers, incense and candles. On the west is a large cabinet, the open doors reveal an array of towels and blankets, and right beside the furniture is a lonesome lamp. You are reminded of your defunct lantern, the one that had kept you company for so many years. Nonetheless, this one will have to do, there is nothing to do but take it. [[Leave the house|2.7]]

The sky is pitch black, more like a void than the star-filled heaven you’re used to seeing from the cabin. Smoke, you could call it, or the fog, now lifted from the earth, covers the sky. Holding back a cough, you study your surroundings. The air is damp and the breeze carries that distinct aroma of caramel you have come to associate with the osen. Mixed in with all of it, you smell the scent of blood and the carnage you’re still forcing yourself to forget. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the hood of your cloak down, only to realize that you no longer have it with you. //Now I've really done it. Great job, $mc.// There is no way you can pass off as a regular villager without a mask. It would have been hard enough with just a cloak to hide your eyes from view, but without a mask or a cloak? Near impossible. You cough, covering your mouth with your hand. The smell is too strong, almost as if… //The corpses…// You turn around, narrowed eyes scanning for your target of interest. It is a rather grim idea, not to mention unpleasant, but you have no other options. Most of the bodies seem to have been taken somewhere else, presumably for burning, however, the endeavor is long and exhausting, especially when everyone wants to get out as soon as possible instead of helping. In the process, some belongings may fall out of the carts, but it's more likely that you'll have to pry a mask out of someone's deceased body. You breathe in and out slowly, the faint outline of a body slumped on the floor, unmoving. Before your moral compass can catch up with your body, you start moving. //Would it be too much to ask for a mask from one of the stalls to be around here?// You shake your head. //They probably will burn everything that creature touched. Products included.// You reach for your bag. Perhaps you should have passed the mask stall before getting wrapped up in all of this. Today truly has been full of surprises, none of them actually entertaining or pleasant to recall. First it was your sudden encounter <<if hasVisited("1.k")>>with one of her hunters<<else>>with the two people at the clearing<</if>>. Next, you are attacked by a dark blob and a strange beast. And now… You kneel in front of the person, part of their arm is missing, their left leg is bent, bone sticking out from where the skin and muscle tore completely. Their clothes are ragged and dirty and in their hands is a little paper crane, all bent and ruined, pieces of ceramic inscrutated into their skin. [[I'm sorry.|2.8][$varchoice is "1"]] [[I need this more than you right now.|2.8][$varchoice is "2"]] [[I can't do this.|2.8][$varchoice is "3"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">>"I'm sorry," you whisper to the corpse, and you can only hope the soul, wherever it has arrived, is able to listen. "I wouldn't do this if there were any other way." This is just how it is. You must survive. Though at times you can't help but wonder what you are surviving for.<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You bite the inner corner of your mouth, still staring at the poor corpse. But you know there is nothing else to do but this. "I need this more than you right now," you whisper to the corpse. You are no stranger to taking desperate measures to survive, for whatever that's worth.<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>Staring at the poor corpse, at the deflated crane and the broken pieces of what must have been a gift to their child, you can't help but shiver. Life has gotten difficult all of a sudden, as if it hadn't been hard to begin with, but you never thought you would stoop so low. Perhaps… Perhaps you'll find another way. Maybe— The earth trembles slightly, a distant voice, muffled but impossible to ignore. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh. //I'm so sorry.//<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]

//What would father had done?// You wonder as you undo the straps keeping the mask attached to that person's face, as you clean the blood from it, hoping the unpainted wood will absorb it and it will look like a regular stain. The mask comes off easily, the wood a little chipped and clearly quite old. You attempt to treat it delicately, though your hand shake and your movements are rushed. But it will do for now. //Would he have preferred to run away, though the members of the temple are nearby and I am injured?// You trace an oval with your fingertips on the back of the mask. The sparks of magic linger for a second, shimmering, but soon spiral inward, until they have covered the entire oval in a white light. //Father…// you whisper this in your mind, staring at the delicate material that will rot and crumble under the pressure of magic after a couple of days. //Father, what would you have done?// That last question you ask out loud, gazing back at the corpse. Their face is bloody, nose broken and darkened by a bruise that is clearly not from the beast's attack. Their eyes are glossy and red, petrified in a state of perpetual horror, with their mouth open, wanting to scream but unable to. You put the mask on and walk away, not wanting to see or feel anything more. [[Continue|2.10]]

You hear rumbling, the earth quaking beneath you. You feel your heart beat on your throat, your mind hazy as you check the straps on the mask, your step quickened, creating as much distance as possible between the corpse and you. You don't bother to turn back to search for the source of the noise, and even if you had, you would have found that the source was closer than you had anticipated. Two horses carrying a wagon stop where you stand, one looks forward, ignoring your presence, while the other seems to scoff and turn away. The coachman coughs, his mask only covers half his face but it’s enough to see his reddened nose. Had you taken a little longer to put on the mask, things could have ended badly for one of you. Or both, depending on how far away the High Priestess is. "Excuse me, stranger. Are you wanting to leave?" he says, in-between sniffles. "I’m not coming back to this place, if you stay any longer, you’re leaving on your own." You ponder the question. Going back home would probably be wiser; once in the cabin, the priestess would lose track of you, however, the issue lies on whether you have enough energy and time to actually get there before she finds and confronts you. You breathe in and out, chest pounding. "I don’t have all day, you know!" The coachman straightens his back, cracking his neck. "Or night, I don’t even know what time it is." One last look at the forest, at the dim light of a lantern and a scepter is all that you need to see. Out of breath and recoiling, you mutter and reach for the wagon: "Yes, I’ll go. Of course I'll go." Wherever it is this person is going, you'll probably be safer. With a sigh, you climb onto the wagon, without even daring to look back. [[Continue|2.11]]

When Angel Vered’s dead body was discovered, the people of the Hyaku Region used masks to hide their grief. They hid the first traces of the osen and they hid their true faces, their true emotions. Since then they never took them off. Now it’s like a second skin, a piece of clothing that would be obscene to be without. Yet here you are, surrounded by people, wearing a mask that you can hear cracking even though it has only been enchanted for less than a day. If it were to break, all your hard work, all the years in hiding, they would be for nothing. But then again, what are you fighting so hard to protect anyways? //It's just the exhaustion talking,// you tell yourself, inhaling deeply. It's been a long day, so perhaps it's best you don't dwell too much on such feelings, lest they take you to dark places. Instead, you look over at your surroundings, at the the sea of people sprawled around the city’s entrance, clinging to the few things they managed to salvage from their homes, the ones they were allowed to carry. Most of them are too poor to afford a day at the nearby inn and so they await a visit from the Lord of this land, Sakuma Tamashiro, hopeful he will be more merciful than the land he oversees, or that at least he’ll recommend some of them to serve at the Temple. This city's name is Kawa, around six to nine hours from the little village which name you never cared to learn. A journey you were, to your dismay, unable to sleep through. This place is bathed in light, bright and sunny, bustling with sound. Morning routines are already starting; the merchants open their shops, people come and go with jars filled with water, none pay much mind to the injured from the night before and those who do whisper pity into their companion’s ear. The osen has ravaged yet another village and this town is forced to take on the load, but this is nothing uncommon and so the people move on with their lives, hoping they are not the ones that seek refuge next. Faint sobbing interrupts your thoughts. A child cries into their mother’s arms. "Where's daddy?" she mutters, her voice almost giving out from so much crying. Her mother holds her tighter, making no effort to stop her or hide her own tears. She whispers //'I'm sorry' over and over.// "Mommy, where is he? Where is grandma? Mommy?" The kid continues to plead, but no one dares answer. Touching the delicate wood hiding your eyes from view, you can't help but wonder which one of these people must be missing that person. <<if $stoic gt $emotional>>//It can't be helped.//<<else>>//I wish it were different, but this is how things are.//<</if>> You can only care for yourself. [[Continue|2.12]]

Leaving now would only cause trouble. The guards have been on edge since your arrival, and the journey back home is too long and harsh without a horse, so you’re stuck here for a while. You might as well make yourself familiar with the area for an eventual escape or find a nice place to hide in, just in case. [[I should secure a place to sleep in|2.12.a]] [[Maybe I could wander around for a bit, to get a feel for where I am|2.12.b]] [[I should grab something to eat|2.12.c]]

This inn is very unlike the modest buildings you are accustomed to staying in. Furnished with golden cushions and low tables with flowers sculpted into them, the place is spatious. High windows let light in, intricate designs on each paper and piece of fabric scream 'out of your price range'. You can sense the aroma of the various floral arrangements decorating the main desk and the entrance. The vines wrap around the pillars decorating the sides of the sliding door, pink and blue flowers sprouting from it. The woman at the desk inclines her head when she sees you, deeming you too unworthy to move from her place. Her lilac furisode has a floral pattern and the long sleeves are delicately spread on the floor. "Welcome," she says, head held high. Though you are standing and she sitting, it feels like she's looking at you from way higher. "Can I help you?" The voice is low, sweet and delicate, yet laced with disdain. The woman scrunches her nose as she slowly runs her gaze along your body, at the stains of blood and dirt, at the smudges that you haven't had the time to clean from the exposed parts of your skin. Her half mask covers her brow, but you could swear she's frowning at you. You walk a little closer, your shoes making little sound as you move, but your clothes leaving behind a small trail of dirt with each step. It's difficult to ignore how much of a mess you're making, not to mention how messy you must also look, but you do try. "Hello, I was wondering if you could tell me how much a night here would cost me?" The woman holds back a sigh, reaching for a nearby book. You feel a cold sweat travel down the nape of your neck, suddenly fearful for the amount that woman will say. Her mouth opens, bright red lips move slowly. She's disinterested, not even looking your way or bothering to see your reaction. But perhaps you should have expected this. //Do I even want to think about such a number again? She can't possibly be serious...// The lady covers her mouth with her sleeve, delicate laughter muffled by the beautiful fabric. "Do you think this establishment can be maintained with handfuls? Look around you," she says, standing to touch the polished wood, the intricate paintings of fauna hanging on the wall. "We are not a refuge shelter. Our clientele is distinguished." You clench your hands into fists. "How much traffic would you even get in a place like this? Do you know the kind of world we live in?" She shakes her head, her laughter growing louder. "You would be surprised." Slender fingers reach for a white cup and she takes a short sip of its contents. "Do you know how many will save for months just to pretend that their lives are different, that they are different, if only for a couple of days?" She inhales slowly, the smoke dissipating. "It doesn't change reality, but it gives them the temporary satisfaction they seek." There will always be people out there who will take advantage of situations like these for their own gain and that is something that cannot be changed. As is the fact that you can't stay here. [[Well, maybe I should just sneak in at night|2.12.a1][$varchoice to "1"; $prudent to $prudent + 1]] [['"Are you going to introduce me to the High Lord or is the price because of the pleasure of your company?"'|2.12.a1][$varchoice to "2"; $bold to $bold + 1]] [['"What if I were to pay you with work?"'|2.12.a1][$varchoice to "3"; $prudent to $prudent + 1]] [['"Do you think this price is fair? This is ridiculous."'|2.12.a1][$varchoice to "4"; $bold to $bold + 1]]

You take to the streets, wandering while ignoring the roar in your stomach that intensifies when you pass by the food stalls and restaurants starting to open. You breathe in the cold air permeating Kawa, feel the warmth of the sun touching your head. Carriages and people come and go, and though some stop to gossip about the refugee walking the streets unattended, looking tired and ragged, most are much too used to these situations. Kawa, the jewel of Koyori, has always been well known to call people to it, to have newcomers set up shop or look for work in its surrounding areas. Though the reasoning for people arriving has changed, the fact remains. Sometimes it's easy to forget that Kyou still has places where the effect of the osen seems like an afterthought, even though that light is so easily taken away. People in Kawa live in relative normalcy, and few have to fear what you do deep in the woods. You hear whispering beside you, people turning away from you when you notice their stare. Refugee or not, you stand out too much. No one expects the recently arrived refugees to stray too far from the place they were told to wait at, too scared and out of place. And if that weren't enough your clothes make fitting in too difficult. Which is why you need a new outfit. You can't be expected to walk around like this. Even if you were to leave the confines of the city right now there is no guarantee that you wouldn't find someone out to question you. They would see your clothes, your face and be confused at your refusal for help, or outright kill you just in case. You need to give the illusion that you're like them, if only while you're here. <center>———</center> It isn't easy finding a clothing store in the crowd. Most avoid speaking to you, and others give you vague directions, always in a rush, so you are left to try to navigate the streets and people coming and going alone. Until finally, you hear it. A bell rings out, the sound muffled by people talking and advertising their products. You push a few people out of the way and walk closer, catching a glimpse of the scene. A young man dressed in black hurries out of the door of a small shop. Strands of light brown, nearing copper, hair sway with his rushed movements. He waves to someone beyond the door and closes it once more, running to the other side. He has a bag with scrolls slung over his shoulder and some other things you cannot see. But that's unimportant, the interesting bit lies over your head. You raise your gaze, though you can already tell from the faint glimpses of color visible from your position. A sign above the door reads //Haru Threads//, the calligraphy neat yet beautiful. The rest of the door has been carved with flower designs and the little silver bell hangs by the side of it. Without thinking it much further, you walk into the shop. [[Continue|2.12.b1]]

The streets of Kawa have just started seeing movement. The store signs are put outside, though the doors remain closed. The aroma of food starts to escape through the windows. Unfortunately, restaurants aren’t an option right now, so a street vendor will have to do. You stop at a young man’s booth, small and modest, carrying a dozen sweet filled buns. Only two ladies stand beside him, and they chatter away while they eat. "Poor Shizuka," says one of them, covering with her fan the part of her face the mask does not cover. "Lord Hazuki has been the coveted jewel of Koyori, much like Kawa, for a while now. Her being the one chosen, only for the marriage to fall apart…" She shakes her head, earrings producing a delicate sound. You deposit a handful of rice and wait for the scale to tip. "Honestly, I think it’s for the best." The other starts to say, and gets closer still to her companion. "After all, there are all these weird rumors about Lord Hazuki." "You don’t believe those, do you? Surely it’s just servant gossip. Lord Tamashiro plans to…" Her words trail off while she glances around. "Sacrifice his son to the Gods to keep Kawa safe?" "Oh, please, who would believe such a thing? Don't be naive." You find yourself leaning in closer. "Well then, what do you mean?" The woman lowers her voice, walking closer and using her fan to muffle the words further. "I heard," she starts, "that he attacked Lady Shizuka on the day of the engagement party because he was having an affair with his retainer." The other woman lets out a loud gasp, her half eaten bun falling to the floor. She stumbles back, distracting even the man, who almost let your food drop as well. Embarrassed, the two women give a light bow, whisper an apology and leave, their conversation resuming when they’re far enough. Though their gossip was interesting and all, you still have a bun to eat. You find a secluded alley and eat the bun, letting the jam inside soothe your nerves and wake you up. There's still much to do and the day is just starting. <<include "2.hub">>

The shop is smaller than it look on the outside. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the size of the store is average, yet the sheer amount of fabric and boxes kept laying around, along with the mannequins, make the walking space minimal. The older lady sitting at the end of the store raises her gaze to meet you. A clay mask covers her face, painted a metallic blue and decorated with swirls and indentations to give it depth. "Can I help you?" she says, barely opening her mouth. She holds a needle on her right hand and a pin hanging from the corner of her lips. You walk closer, avoiding the stray pieces of fabric left to cover the floor or getting too close to the mannequins. The lady stands up, setting both the pin and the needle aside as she moves to meet you. She looks you over, lifting her mask to scrutinize some more. Her rich brown eyes linger on your <<if $person is "woman">>waist and chest<<else>>shoulders and waist<</if>>, a hand under her chin, the other caressing a roll of <<if $person is "woman">>orange fabric with a cream floral pattern<<elseif $person is "man">>navy blue fabric with no pattern<<else>>baby blue fabric with a koi pattern<</if>>. <<if $they is "she">>"A furisode with medium sized sleeves, a green and yellow obi. There's no way anyone would be able to reject you wearing something like that. What do you think?" The words leave her so quick, the proposition so sudden, it takes you a moment to process it. "Excuse me?" Is what you manage to say. But she doesn’t hear you, instead, she crouches next to a box filled with hair accessories and takes a few golden pins with flowers attached to them. "No, listen. I’m not looking for something formal. Or for partner hunting, for that matter." "Something simple… A komon then? Though truly, I think you should invest in something a bit flashier." "No, no, just something simple. Something easy to slip into."<<elseif $they is "he">>"A dark blue haori, with a scarlet kimono, or maybe paired with black hakama. What do you think?" The words leave her so quick, the proposition so sudden, it takes you a moment to process it. "Excuse me?" Is what you manage to say. But she doesn’t hear you, instead, she moves towards her desk and picks up a green ribbon. "Do you have a family crest you would like to add? Oh, how about a folding fan?" she asks as she extends your left arm along the ribbon. "No, listen, I’m not looking for something formal!" "How about a yukata? No, wait, it’s not the right season for it…" "No, no, just something simple. Something easy to slip into. Already made."<<else>>"A furisode with medium sized sleeves, a cream-colored obi, maybe even some fur to keep you warm. What do you think?" The words leave her so quick, the proposition so sudden, it takes you a moment to process it. "Or maybe you would be more comfortable in a hakama?" "Excuse me?" Is what you manage to say. But she doesn’t hear you, instead, she crouches next to a box filled with accessories and takes a red folding fan. "No, listen, I’m not looking for something formal!" "Something simple… A komon then? Though truly, I think you should invest in something a bit flashier." "No, no, just something simple," you say, trying to stop her, but the woman has already wandered off to look at other rolls of fabric. You breathe in and out, you need to get this over with. "Something I can put on right now. Already made."<</if>> [[Continue|2.12.b2]]

The woman turns around, letting the fabric go. She crosses her arms around her chest, long sleeves shaken by the motion. "I can't believe this, you're just like my son!" Your eyes widen, the woman moves forward, shoving an accusatory finger in your face. "Look at you! You look like a beggar, no one will trust you! You came here to look nice or to look dull, huh? If you came to my shop, it's because you want to improve your appearance." You can't really argue with that logic, it's not exactly wrong. She puts her hand away, shaking her head as she touches the elaborate hairpin keeping her black hair tied back. She sighs and starts walking away, not stopping for a minute to look back. "Madam? Will you—" "Shut up." She turns around just slightly, her mouth curved down. "You children can't appreciate the allure of a well-made, beautiful kimono, so I'll give you something that will make sure to ban you from all matchmakers." She lets out a sarcastic laugh, "I'll even give it to you for free." Then she turns back once more, continuing her trek to the back of the store. In a whisper, she continues. "At least that way my son won't complain so much about the space anymore." [['"Thank you?"'|2.12.b3][$varchoice to "1"]] [[That works for me. Free clothes and no marriage? Sign me up!|2.12.b3][$varchoice to "2"]] [[Well, it's just for a little while, it should be okay|2.12.b3][$varchoice to "3"]] [[How could you be so cruel, madam? You're dooming my future chances at success!|2.12.b3][$varchoice to "4"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">>Forcing a smile, you find yourself responding while she opens the door and moves around the darkened backroom. "Thank you?" you raise your voice, making sure she can hear. "I really will not be finding any better deal than this." "Yes, you won't." The woman laughs again, sincerely this time. "They may be boring and tasteless but at least you won't be such an eyesore on the streets. Maybe you'll even find a good job!" You feel the corners of your mouth relax into an easygoing expression. "You have so much faith in me, madam?" "Of course not, I have faith that my prototypes will at least look presentable to the ignorant eyes of the common populace," she says as she walks out of the walk-room, in between huffing because of the weight of the box in her hands, she continues. "I mean, I did make these clothes, but even I make mistakes sometimes." <<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You smile at the woman, though she can't see the gesture. Her figure is lost in the darkened corners of the backroom as she shuffles around, looking for something. If those clothes are truly so unfashionable that no matchmaker will be able to find you a match, then maybe you should make sure to have her design all your future clothes. No marriage, and for free? You're not getting any better deal than this. The woman sighs, a groan escaping her as she walks back into the light with a box in her arms.<<elseif $varchoice is "3">><<set $varchoice to "">>You mourn the loss of your own clothes, those specifically designed for you and made to fit your aesthetic. You touch the stained fabric of your sleeves, look at the frayed ends, at the dirt, clinging to the threads. This is beyond saving. Father often said that you had to dress for success. And though you and him didn't always see eye to eye, on that you agreed. Your situation, your existence, hangs on a very delicate thread and your clothing must meet a specific criteria for you to survive. Nothing too flashy, neither too dull, easy to move in, comfortable, will be easily cleaned. //Whatever. It's just for a little while, and it's free too.// The old lady huffs as she walks out of the backroom, carrying a box in her hands.<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>You sigh mournfully, letting your entire body droop at the subject. You can only imagine the boring colors and patternless clothing she will bring out, maybe even the quality is subpar, there's a reson why she's giving them to you, after all. And father did always say that clothes can make or break your cover, so on that front you are also at a disadvantage. "Madam, how could you be so cruel?" Your voice is loud enough for her to hear beyond this initial room, and she laughs at the tone in your voice. "You're dooming me to a life of little success." "Goddess, you remind me of my friend at the herbal store. So dramatic." She laughs, though the sound is often interrupted by huffing as she walks out of the backroom and into the store area. "How bad is it? Tell me now so I can mentally prepare." The woman shakes her head, hanging on tight to the box she carries in her arms.<</if>> With a long sigh and a hand on her lower back, the store owner lets the box fall to the floor. She waves off your gaze, assuming concern. "Never say Aunt Haru never did anything for you. Now go, and don't bother me unless you grow some fashion sense." She starts to turn around, her steps slower now. "But—" She cuts you off, not stopping to look back. "I'm serious about it being free. Take whichever you like." And with that she sits atop a pile of cushions, next to the mannequins. You crouch and rummage through the two boxes. Each piece of clothing is neatly folded, no creases, no signs of wear or tear. On the right box, there’s a few kimono and hakama, ranging from brown to dark red. On the left the colors are lighter shades of blue and pink. [[Kimono and hakama|2.12.b4][$varchoice1 to "1"]] [[Just the kimono|2.12.b4][$varchoice1 to "2"]]

You take the clothes into your arms, cotton soft against your skin, and try to fit them into your bag, hopeful they won’t get dirty in the time it’ll get you to get a bath. To your misfortune, it’s too full already, so you simply let them hang on top of it. "Careful with that," Haru yells from her comfy cushion. "It's bad luck to wear a kimono with creases!" <<include "2.hub">>

<><<if not hasVisited("2.12.a")>>[[I should secure a place to sleep in|2.12.a]]<</if>><<if not hasVisited("2.12.b")>> [[Maybe I could wander around for a bit, to get a feel for where I am|2.12.b]]<</if>><<if not hasVisited("2.12.c")>> [[I should grab something to eat|2.12.c]]<</if>><<if hasVisited("2.12.c","2.12.a","2.12.b")>> [[Pass the time|2.return]]<</if>><>

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">>You eye out the doors at the other end of the room. There aren't guards in any visible places, and you honestly doubt the innkeeper will have more than one or two. If you really cannot leave today, you could always sneak in later. The lady clears her throat, tilting her head as she examines you, her nails produce a small sound as they hit the ceramic cup. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" she says, as she interlocks her hands together, having set the cup aside. "If that will be all then I must ask you to leave." You hold back a sigh. When night comes you will figure something out.<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You raise an eyebrow, feeling the cool magic course through the wood and the chill extend to your skin. The inn is certainly luxurious looking, commodity and beauty are a priority for the owners and all in charge of maintaining this establishment, but unless you're meeting the most famous songtress in Kyou or being attended to by a chorus of angels it's difficult to see how they came to the conclusion that this is a good price. "What are you exactly charging so much for?" The woman sighs exasperatedly at your question, but you don't let her answer. "Are you introducing me to the High Lord? Or are you simply charging for the //pleasure// of your company?" The woman huffs, nose raised high as she looks away. "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid that you don't meet our criteria of service." She turns her head just slightly, a wicked smile on her face. "Truly a tragedy."<<elseif $varchoice is "3">><<set $varchoice to "">>You need a place to stay in, that much you know. And though you can look in other places, it's not a bad idea to explore all your options. You breathe in and out slowly, straightening your back and fighting the exhaustion. "What if I were to pay you with work?" you ask. The question is genuine, a genuine offer that could help you learn more about Kawa and allow you to have a nice place to stay at. At the very least you can try the same line of questioning at other places. The woman laughs, a short laugh that has you gritting your teeth. "What do you think this place is? We are a fine establishment, we have important clients, high standards." She shakes her heads, her smile playful. "If you're desperate for shelter and work, go to the brothel." Eyes widened, you open and close your palms slightly, trying to channel the feelings building up inside you into each movement.<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>"Do you think this price is fair?" you ask, body tense. The demand is met with innocent laughter, matching the sound of the wind chimes outside. "It's just a night and I would have to pay you so much?" The woman sighs, slender fingers tapping at the side of her jaw. "It may seem ridiculous to you, //young master//, but my establishment is no rundown shack at the end of the road." You open your mouth to retort, but the lady gives you no chance to do so. "If I may be so bold," she continues, reaching for her cup. "If you dislike my prices so much, perhaps this simply isn't the place for you." The smile she gives you is weak, it still speaks of her disdain for you, yet the determination is gone, replaced by annoyance.<</if>> Maybe it's best you leave now. Whatever happens next, you'll figure out when you get there. <<include "2.hub">>

<<if lastVisited("2.12.a1") is 1>>After such an unpleasant encounter, you find yourself wandering the city, avoiding other people's gazes.<<elseif lastVisited("2.12.b4") is 1>>You can feel the soft fabric against your skin. Clean, fresh clothes you can only hope you'll be able to change into soon.<<else>>You can feel the sweet jam melting in your mouth as you eat the final piece of the bun.<</if>> The sun has settled comfortably on the sky, morning rays touching the wooden stalls, the bright fabric of the passersby. Every shop is open, people come and go, changing masks to suit the weather, you can even see some children run along the street, laughing and bumping into other without even stopping to apologize. Somehow, the morning has turned to midday, and if the guards are to be believed, the Lord might have finally arrived to welcome the refugees. You have no reasons to meet the Lord of Kawa, and many to avoid him and his guards, yet you find yourself walking that same road, back to where you started. You keep your head low, avoiding the gaze of those passing by. They will, of course, turn to look at you, out of curiosity or pity, but it is best you don't stop to question them or attract more attention to yourself. Perhaps the Lord might say something that can help you get out of the city before you are found. [[Continue|2.discovery]]

You stop, squinting to make sense of the scene happening in the distance. Brown wood, decorated with dark purple pieces of fabric. The carriage stands in the middle of the road, keeping most of the refugees from view. Two people flank it, the symbols that make up the Tamashiro name are drawn on the back of their kimono. Another person goes around, writing down names on a parchment. "Where is Warlord Matsukawa?" calls one of the women, holding a crying baby in her arms. Her back is arched, head hung low, as if afraid to speak. "We heard—" "It doesn't matter what you heard, this isn't his domain." A man steps out of the carriage, a small frame and a youthful voice, yet tinged with annoyance. "He has his own problems anyway." "Hayato, calm yourself," a lower, more composed voice speaks over him, making the young man retreat a little. A taller man with long brown hair tied back, emerges from the other side of the carriage. "I am very sorry," he says, turning to the refugees. There is not a single crease on his kimono, not a single hair out of place, every movemente perfectly measured. The man speaks softly, yet there is authority, force in each word. That must be Lord Sakuma Tamashiro, he and his family rarely use masks. "But High Lord Matsukawa will not be joining us. As my son has very bluntly told you." His son looks away, tapping his left foot against the floor. "the High Lord is otherwise occupied and has no time to receive you at the moment." A choir of sighs follows, the refugees huddle together, looking expectantly at the man. He just shakes his head, opening his cream colored fan, white and green sleeves swaying with the movement. "But father," The younger man walks closer, his steps are hard against the ground. You can only see the flowing stream pattern drawn on his kimono, his long chestnut colored hair tied with a silver, intricate hairpin. "Our authority—" His father turns to him, and though you can't quite make out the expression from where you stand, you feel the cold, the severity of his gaze. The son steps back once more, looking down. "As the guards and my assistant must have told you," the Lord of Kawa starts, "you will be sorted for employment in my land. However, before we can do any of that, I have a request to make of you." The younger man straightens his back, crossing his arms around his chest. Walking a little closer, you can see the glimmer of a smile forming on his mask less face. "You must remove your masks if you want to find housing on our land." He paces around, ignoring the tired sighs his father lets out, the shocked gasps of the others as they hold onto the worn down material hiding their faces from view. "Follow our instructions. Do not give us more work than we already have or the next thing you'll see will be the walls of the dungeon. Not as pretty as this road." "Please, forgive my young son's temper. He is still under training and quite rebellious lately." He shakes his head, making a few of the refugees snicker at the scene, while Hayato rolls his eyes. "It is true though. I know you might have some reservations about this, but I must ask you to remove your masks. We prepared a nearby building to house you while we interview you, a place where you'll have some privacy, so don't worry, we won't have you do it in broad daylight." "Father!" his son whines, dragging out the words as he taps the ground with his feet. "Hayato," he replies, his tone suddenly harsher. His grip on the fan is stronger now, his breathing ragged as he holds back his emotions. Slowly, yet unable to hide it, he continues, "If you can't behave go back home. I won't repeat myself. This isn't—" "Lord Tamashiro," one of the refugees calls, pushing his way out of the crowd. "What?" the young Lord replies, earning yet another reprimanding look from his father. "What?" he asks again, this time towards his father. "Young master." The man that had previously been taking notes pulls on his elbow, bowing after finally gaining his attention. "Perhaps you should wait in the carriage. You were brought to watch and learn, after all." Hayato scoffs, "You don't have any authority to—" "Hayato, wait in the carriage, we will talk later," his father interrupts. "But—" "Not now. Go back." "Fine!" The young man stomps the ground, his voice echoing in your ears, so unlike his father's. He climbs into the carriage, but before closing the door yells out once more. "You wouldn't have done this to Hazuki!" The door is slammed closed, a loud thud that shakes even the other people around you, those that have stopped nearby, curious to know what the Lord will say. [[The Lord tries to force a smile, but the strain is starting to show|2.13]]

"I am sorry you had to see that." He turns back to the crowd of refugees, they murmur words of understanding, though their energy is low at best. "You had something you wished to say?" The man, that had finally reached the front of the crowd stills at the sudden attention, shocked and petrified under the eyes of the Lord. Instead, a woman near him speaks. "I think it's something we are all wondering about, your Lordship." She casts her gaze down. "What will happen to our home? What will happen to us?" A person near you coughs, muffling the sound of the Lord's words. "… It's not easy," Lord Tamashiro says, "but I need you to cooperate with me. The influx of refugees keeps increasing, so I had a few houses built just in case and I have jobs available for you, if you wish to take them. Some will be sent to the fields, a little far from the town but close enough that you'll be safe. Some others will stay here and either learn a craft or take up jobs we need filled. Those that object will be sent to the temple, since I can't do much else for you. "Like I was saying." He straighten his back, looking tired. "I need your cooperation. My guards will lead you to the building and my assistant, Yujin." He turns to the man at his side for a moment. "Will be calling your names. It should be a short endeavor and afterward you will be treated to a meal. I'll make sure you have been sorted and sent to your new homes by the time night falls." "Actually," Yujin coughs nervously, opening and closing his fan with one hand. "I…" His voice fades, trying and failing to find the words to say. "Just say it." He nods, breathing in and out to soothe his shaking frame. "I counted the number of refugees here, but there seems to be one missing." The guards, who had not made any movements until then, look at each other, their gazes then finding their Lord. You feel the people around still as they hear that. They don't know why this is such an important thing to worry about. Even you had not worried over the fact they would have to remove their masks, since you had already left, safe in the crowd of residents, where no one would recognize you. You swallow hard, turning away from them, yet still unmoving. "My Lord, normally this would be an inconvenience at best, but…" He doesn't need to finish the sentence. Lord Tamashiro sighs, without turning away from the refugees. "Find them," he sends the order to the guards. "You refugees will stay. Leave no details out, who else accompanied you here?" Your heart stops for a second, fingers caressing your gloved hand as you move forward, slow steps, gaze set straight. Father often said that hiding in plain sight was simple, you only needed to believe that you belonged in the place. //But no matter what he said…// You look at your clothes, ragged and dirty, at your hands, shaking under the pressure. And you notice the looks the townspeople give you. People in the streets stop moving, whispers replace their steps and idle chatter and you know you look even more out of place than before. As they hear the descriptions of the refugees, as the guards begin their search, looking for your tattered clothes, your badly painted mask; you know that there is no way you could ever belong. In the woods you are the predator, but in this enclosed space, in this city where you have no allies and no home, //you are the prey.// [[And once more, what else can I do but run?|2.14]]

Before you noticed it, you started running. People were pushed aside, others screamed for the guards, indicating the direction you took. None stopped to help you, why would they? Would you if the roles were reversed? You breathing is fast, your chest heaving and pained, too exhausted to sustain so much activity. However, stopping now can only mean death, and after working so hard to survive until now, it feels like such a waste to die in such a manner. You turn at another corner, stomach churning at the smells, eyes hazy under the sun. But you can see a solution, or at the very least a temporary escape. A plaza full of people, loud and huddled before a stage. Laughter draws your sight back to the other end of the plaza, where a large stage has been built. Atop it a robust man dressed in a long-sleeved red kimono and a gold mask stumbles around, no doubt mocking Emperor Shinitani, while his companion, dressed in green and yellow, most likely High Lord Matsukawa, turned Warlord, must cover for his mistakes. The audience laughs, and you take the opportunity to push your way into the crowd. Hidden in the shadows of the multitude, you pretend to show interest in the play. The curtain closes briefly and when it opens again the scene has changed. The Emperor is now accompanied by a young lady dressed in red, white and gold, she uses a white mask with golden accents, that covers half her face, and a fan her slender fingers hold onto hides her mouth. A woman close by scoffs at the sight. "She looks ridiculous," she whispers, walking closer to her companion. "How could they replace me like that? My dress barely fits her." The man beside tries to hide a snicker. "Yeah, it's too big for her." You hear a slap, the woman's fan hits his forearm. That just makes him laugh louder, unable to contain himself. "I'll remember this," she replies, raising her voice just slightly. "Akio, you—" A few gasps call you back to the stage. The woman moves slowly under the weight of her heavy dress, yet each movement is delicate and serves to draw the viewers in. She looks at the audience, that look back in awe, while the Emperor stumbles around once more, and kneels in front of his Empress. The woman closes the fan slowly, her lips are painted a vibrant red. "I heard your campaign against the Oshimono has been unsuccessful." Her words are slowed but poignant. "We were successful," he corrects her, the woman frowns. Seeing her expression, the Emperor continues, voice shaking as he speaks, "just not in the way we expected. You see, I made a deal with them." "A deal!?" she exclaims as she hits him with her fan, sending him to the floor on impact. The people laugh at the sight. "Can you do nothing but bring disappointment into our household?" "They will protect us!" "'They will protect us.'" The Empress repeats in a mocking tone, tilting her head to look at him as she leans forward. "Are they here right now?" "Huh?" The Emperor takes a step back. "No-" But he is interrupted by another slap from the fan, that sends him flying even farther. “No one can protect you from me, then!” The audience laughs once more. The woman continues to attack him, the children clap and boo the Emperor, while the adults whisper snide remarks amongst themselves. "I hate this," the woman close by says. She crosses her arms above her chest, turning away from the stage. "I should be the one there." "They weren't going to wait forever," her companion responds. You look back at the streets leading into the plaza, at the noise of footsteps coming closer. "You should just be glad you're back, safe and sound." You cling to your bag, gaze darting from place to place. "Let's go. I don't—" [[Maybe I should have kept running|2.15]]

The rustle of armor stops them. All eyes are now on the street you came from. All except yours. Even with the mask, you can't help but feel vulnerable, exposed, and seeing as they have your description, turning would be like giving them yet another clue. You see the woman hold onto her companion's arm, shaking and breathing heavy as the footsteps stop. "The play is over!" A voice cuts through the air. "All of you, remove your masks!" The actors jump off the stage, holding onto their costumes and what little props they brought with them. They huddle together, looking at each other and then at the group of guards entering the plaza. "It's alright." Lord Tamashiro tries to reassure the crowd, but his voice wavers. "You don't have to panic, this is a formality, a precaution. We will let you go as soon as we corroborate your identities." Murmuring replaces the voice of the Lord, the people whisper among each other, but dare not run away, only watching the guards draw closer. In theory, you should be able to create a distraction and run away. But where? And using magic in front of everyone? At least if you simply run they could think you're some regular criminal trying to escape punishment. "Form a line, we will—" "What is going on here?" The air grows still, your heart stops in your chest as you turn to face it. You have never heard that voice before, but you recognize the crest drawn on the sleeves of that man's kimono, and even if you didn't, the hoarse sound, the authority that each word commands would be enough to make you stop. The Warlord of Koyori, Ginji Matsukawa walks in, with a few samurai cladded in black and red following behind. He has a tall frame, black hair tied back with a simple wooden hairpin. He wears no mask, leaving you to stare at the severe brown eyes that scout out the crowd. You shiver under his gaze. "High Lord," Lord Tamashiro starts, bowing at the waist. Though his voice is even, his breathing is stilted, his eyes lost all glimmer. "Is your training finished, High Lord?" The Lord continues, but does not rise again. He turns to you, or more likely, to the crowd, still stuck in place, too shocked to react. Without attracting attention to himself or speaking any words, he mouths 'kneel'. And it doesn't take much to convince them to do so. Though shaking and breathless, all let their bodies drop, their foreheads touching the ground. Some whisper a prayer, while others hold their breaths. But you… You find yourself unable to follow suit. There is this fire inside you, this pressure on your chest as you stare at him. And whether this feeling is fear turned numbness, or rejection at his authority, you don't stop it. Lord Tamashiro raises his head, his back straight once more. His mouth is a thin line, his brow furrowed as he looks at you. While his expression speaks of confusion and worry, forgetting to recognize your attire, the High Lord's is anything but pleasant. He scoffs at your defiance, shaking his head. His hand reaches for the silver sword at his side and you swallow, disappointed at how quickly you forget your lessons. //"Warlords and high ranking samurai in the service of the Emperor… They are a pretentious bunch."// You remember father say, his disembodied voice could have appeared a little sooner and saved you from this. //"If you do not kneel before them, the law allows them to kill you."// You hold back a sigh, mind whirling. //Damn it all, who made that awful law anyway?// [[Whatever, I don't kneel for tyrants, even at the cost of my life|2.15.a][$varchoice to "1"]] [[I guess I have to commit to this now.|2.15.a][$varchoice to "2"]] [[I think I'm starting to shake. Goddess why me?|2.15.a][$varchoice to "3"]] [[It's okay, it's just a nightmare. I'll wake up any minute now.|2.15.a][$varchoice to "4"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">>You breathe in and out slowly, now determined. Everyone reveres Warlord Ginji with the devotion they also pay to Goddess Omi. He is the Emperor's greatest asset and a hero to the people of Koyori. But his good deeds have hurt you and your kind for too long. His ruthlessness towards the shinmoku and the children they have with humans is praised, the destruction of their villages is lauded, and there are even rumors that he killed his own daughter after she escaped with one of them. People like him are one of the reasons why father and you couldn't live freely among others. Not the shinmoku who fear the same treatment, or the humans who follow his example and call it fair. Kneeling for a man like that… it isn't worth it. "I would never kneel for a man like you," you announce, standing tall. "You're just another monster hiding behind a fake concept of justice."<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You breathe in and out, each breath more difficult than the last. It's difficult to know if you would have knelt before him had you reacted and understood what was happening fast enough. The man, though lauded as a hero and beloved in Koyori, stands only for the humans and no one else. He has killed shinmoku almost his whole life and shows no mercy to those who sympathize with them, surely he wouldn't show mercy to you either, but on the other hand, being the target of his wrath wasn't part of the plan. But you're here now, and you might as well commit to it. "I'm sorry, but I won't kneel for you." Your voice doesn't waver and neither does your mind, clear as day. "Kneeling to a man like you, it would disrespect my entire family." After all the years in hiding, the pain, the death your relatives suffered at their hand, and those that the shinmoku suffered as well… Kneeling now would make them weep, it would have meant they failed in their teachings.<<elseif $varchoice is "3">><<set $varchoice to "">>You swallow hard, lacing your hands together as you take in a long breath of air. Heart racing, you make sure not to stop eye contact with the man, lest he takes that opportunity to plunge his sword into your chest. And yet, though you shake and feel your eyes start to water, a spark inside you gives way to strength, to resilience and defiance. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in more calmly. It is because of people like him that you aren't safe anywhere. It is because of people like him that the shinmoku fear you and reject you, why the humans refuse to try and understand, and why those that want to, end up dead or keep silent in the face of tragedies. To a man like him, seen as a hero and lauded for his 'great' actions, actions that have cost you your family and the lives of many others… How could you kneel now? And though you wish you weren't here right now, that you had stayed back home or returned when you had the chance, you speak. "I won't kneel," your voice wavers, each word stuttered. "I won't kneel for you." And suddenly, as you stare into his eyes, you feel the courage fade away, leaving doubt and fear to fester. //Goddess, what am I doing? Oh no.//<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>Breathing in and out, you try to soothe your nerves. Who would have thought you would be facing the Warlord on Sunday morning? Had you known, would you have worn something fancier? Does it matter if it's just a dream? Maybe all the isolation has gotten to your head, and your mind is trying to offer you consolation by having you disrespect the man that has contributed to your suffering, that has kept you from freedom. An enemy to the shinmoku, an enemy to the humans, with no place to belong but your lonely cabin in the woods. "I won't kneel for a man like you," you find yourself saying. The confidence in your voice is foreign even to you, and earns you a few shocked gasps from the audience. "You're just another monster." But somehow, declaring it out loud, staring at the cold eyes of Warlord Ginji, you don't feel any better than you did before. You pinch yourself, the pain spreading throughout your hand. A cold sweat drips from the back of your head. You close your eyes, mumbling a wish to yourself. But when you open them again, letting out a deep breath, you are just where you were a second ago. No amount of subtle pinching of your hand will wake you up. //Of course. Of course it's not a dream. That would have been too merciful to inflict on me.//<</if>> [[Continue|2.16]]

He doesn't dignify your remark with an answer. Expressionless, he unsheathes his sword, gray metal shimmering against the light. It gets reflected on you, making you raise your hands to shield your eyes from it. <<if $playful gt $serious>>//Okay, I think I made my point, perhaps now is a good time to run away.//<<else>>//I think I overstayed my welcome.//<</if>> You breathe in and out slowly, your mind already whirling with possible solutions, none suitable enough. Still, you can't stop to think on it much longer. You step on hands and feet as you run far from the plaza, away from Lord Sakuma and the Warlord. They send their guards after you, the rustle of armor announcing their pursuit. People jump out of your way and those who don't get pushed aside. You have no time to avoid the crowds, the carts, the booths, the children. Everything becomes a blur. Ragged breaths and fuzzy colors as you turn on random streets and beg to not find a dead end. The advantage of not knowing where you're going is that they can't predict where you'll go next either. But this can only help for so long, their small units are bound to be joined by the rest of the city guard soon enough. The footsteps grow distant as you cross an intersection, and then another. Throat burning, you press your back against a wall. You gasp for breath, throat dry, it stings as air passes through. Your legs tremble, forehead covered in sweat, the wooden mask drenched in it. <<if $playful gt $serious>>//This day just gets better and better.//<<else>>//I can't do this much longer.//<</if>> You stare at the mark, feel the energy building up in your fingertips. Just enough to get you out of here? Perhaps, but not enough to survive the osen and avoid detection. A sigh escapes you. They’re still looking for you and they won’t stop any time soon. However, the constant running and turning and the fearful gazes of the townspeople have made something very clear: You won’t survive without a companion, someone to guide and vouch for you. You let yourself fall to the floor. //Now what?// You could try to appeal to someone but as soon as they learn who you are, what you've done to their Warlord, there is no guarantee their support will continue. You massage your forehead. A thousand ideas run through your mind and not one is good enough to implement. As your breath comes back, you feel the rush of adrenaline fade, replaced by exhaustion. You hunch down, a tired sigh out of your mouth, but the sound is interrupted by another's voice. "You're fast." The sound makes you jump, back on your feet once again. Your heart throbs in your chest, your breathing hitches, your muscles tense as you prepare to run away. "No, wait, don't go!" You turn your head, too dazed to be able to make out the direction of the voice. And there she is, soft, pastel colors on her kimono, flowers decorating the hakama. The way she's dressed you wouldn't have been able to ignore her presence, so how…? Her hand holds onto your wrist, and you inhale the scent of lavender impregnated on her clothes. "I saw what you did, what you said to him." Her grip loosens slightly, but she still doesn't let you go. "You were very brave. Very stupid, but very brave." You hear distant chatter, but do not dare sneak back a glance. You don't know this person, you don't know this place, and giving her any opening is out of the question. But, then again… "And look where that got you," she smiles, somewhat self satisfied, though you can't tell why. "It looks like we are kindred souls." "What do you want?" The words come out more threatening than you expected. Good, she should know you're a threat. "What I want, huh?" She tilts her head to the side, trying to peer into the holes in your mask. "Maybe we should talk about what //you// want first, don't you think? You seem to be the one in most danger right now." Your breathing stills, feeling your hand cramp. "I can hide you from them. I—" "Why?" you interrupt her, swallowing back the fear, ignoring the drops of sweat running down the back of your neck, your racing heart as you contemplate your options. "Do you have the luxury of asking that?" Her smile disappears. Cold fingers curled around your wrist pull you closer and you don't have the energy to step back. "We don't have time for this. Consider it a favor, this way we can help each other in our time of need." //They always want something.// The realization hits, that of course this would be the course this conversation would take. However, at the same time, just like she said, can you be picky at a moment like this? Sound, footsteps, grow closer not bothering to hide their approach. You reach for your bag, your eyes still on the woman, who slowly releases you from her grip. "Follow me," she says, voice almost a whisper. She walks backwards, letting the vestiges of light that pass through shine on the ground and no longer on her. Your eyes follow her movements, still unsure. She climbs a nearby barrel and in seconds grips the edge of a roof. Barely a creak, barely a huff, she stares at you from the top of the building. She doesn't speak, but she doesn't need to. What other options do you have? With a sigh, and ignoring the throb on your ankle, you take her outstretched hand and climb atop the house. [[Taking a chance|2.escape]]

Your chest hurts and, out of breath, you realize your vision has become unfocused. The outline of that woman, her reddish brown skin and the soft hues of her clothes stand out from the clouds of color around her, which have become too muddled to describe. This would be a good moment to get a good grasp on how big the city truly is, to determine dark corners and alleys where you could hide if need be. This could be an opportunity to question your guide, when they are most distracted. But your mind won't let you. A wisp of breath makes your throat burn. It's inevitable, the fit of coughing that follows, yet you have not come this far to fall now. Especially not literally. Your gloved hands grip the edge of the roof and, with another painful cough, you let your body fall down. You wince, feeling the pain on your ankle spread from your leg into your stomach. Hand against the wall for support, you bite your tongue. You need to concentrate, there's— Warmth spreads over your shoulder, under the thick fabric stained with dirt, a light squeeze followed by some attempt at shaking you out of place. Another's hand. A stranger's hand. "What are you doing?" You turn around in an instant, heart beating louder and louder. Your eyes dart around, the image clearing as your stomach turns, prey to the adrenaline coursing through your body. "Well…" The woman takes a few steps back, her figure coming into focus, and just then you notice the short, dark brown hair that is adorned by a single, long ribbon. "That was… a thing that happened." Your gaze follows the outline of your hands, positioned in front of you as if ready to attack. "It's okay," she says, voice endearing yet confident. She raises her hand, but seeming to think better of it, pushes her hair aside instead, revealing the thin braid behind her ear. "Time to get to work." You breathe in and out slowly. Taking in your surroundings, the shadows cast by the houses, by the trees, the scarce row of buildings that stretch before you. Few houses are lined up along the narrow street. One of them has several chickens walking in the garden, and another a black horse, eating away at the grass growing beside its home. And, right at the end of the street, you can see a giant stone wall. The edge of the city, so close yet so far. "Normally I just go through the main gate, but, as you probably already know, security is kind of tight right now." You bite your tongue. Of course they would up security, now they know you're here. "Then what should we do?" You avoid her gaze, the beams of light piercing through your mask. She stops at the middle of the street, facing the last two houses on the road and, taking in a long breath of air, she speaks. "We don't have much time, or many options, but we definitely have to leave the city, if only for a little while," she says, gazing about the area. "We could try to jump over the wall, but then we would have trouble getting back inside." //Not to mention how dangerous it would be. Though I guess it would also give me the opportunity to go back home.// "Or we could hide over there." The woman points over to the large garden facing the street. In it a horse munches at the overgrown foliage, and a large tree gives the creature cover from the sun. The house beside it is significantly bigger in comparison with the rest of buildings nearby and, just like the weed and trees surrounding it, time has taken its toll on the property. "It's abandoned. We should be okay to hide there for a few hours." Turning back, your companion gives you a defeated smile. "Well, stranger, it's up to you. What should we do?" You don't have much time for an exhaustive investigation, and you don't know enough about your surroundings —or your companion, who stares at you expectantly— to take any gambles. Better to go with a safe and quick option that can give you room to defend yourself. Having said that, the options are limited. There are no trees close to the wall, and using magic, in front of a stranger no less, is out of the question. [[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]] [["Don't you think we're skipping some steps? I don't even know your name"|2.talk]] <<if hasVisited("2.horse")>>[[Look around|2.explore-street]]<</if>>

A quick survey of the nearby mansion (and the horse occupying its premises) could guide you in the right direction. With this in mind, you walk closer to the fence, barely hanging together. Your hands touch the wood, damp and frail, but before pushing the gate open, your companion calls out to you. "Hey, stranger!" Her voice is quiet, yet somehow it booms inside your head. "Don't you think it would be a good idea to tell me what exactly you've decided?" "You said you would leave it to me," you retort, but she shakes her head. "Well, yes, but…" [[Maybe I can have fun with her. "I'm going to ask it for directions."|2.horse.1][$varchoice to "1"]] [["I don't know yet"|2.horse.1][$varchoice to "2"]]

You scratch your head, looking at the pile of things you've managed to secure from each little spot that was not viciously guarded, closed off or possibly inhabited. A couple of wooden boards and some boxes. Your companion paces from left to right, and then back from whence she came, every so often looking back at the street. Her hands are shaking, though you aren't quite sure if she's doing it in an attempt to soothe herself or if it's just the anxiety taking hold of her. "Please, tell me you have a plan because I see this and the only thing that comes to mind is an image of me, falling to my death." Now her hand is under her chin, and she bites her lip. Anything to distract herself from her racing heart. "We need something to tie the two boards together," you announce. You managed to nag a couple more boards from the floorboards, some more resistant than others, and are now testing their strength against yours. "It'll work." That is a lie, not that it'll work, of that you are truly uncertain, but the lie is in your confidence when you speak. Truly, you see the same she sees. You would climb to the roof of the house. The boxes can give you a boost so that you can reach roof of the veranda, and from there you can find your way to a place where you can set down the wood. But is the wood strong enough for not only you but her? Will it even reach the wall? But any more time inside is time you could spend finding your way back. To safety. To that place that saw you grow into sunlight, that saw you run into darkness. And any place that was designed to keep you inside, to keep you safe is better than being trapped here after offending a Warlord and being outed as a witch. "Here," the woman interrupts your thoughts, undoing the ribbon around her head. "We don't have much time. If you think it'll work then I trust you." "What if you're right? What if we fall?" It won't be a mortal fall, you know this, and that is even scarier. "Then I am to blame, I should have known better and I'll just have to live with my choices, no matter the consequence." You take the ribbon, feeling your chest clench. //And you would be to blame too.// You can almost hear her say. "But, you know," she whispers, leaning next to you to help you force the boards together. "I will never regret helping someone in need. Especially if they stand up for what they believe in." Your fingers brush as you tie the torn apart ribbon around the wood. But you don't linger on the warmth of human touch, you can't. Though the memories within wish to resurface, like it is often the case, you push them back. [[Continue|2.jump 1]]

Your eyes meet with hers. Uncertainty and doubt build up in your chest. How could you have let this happen to you? Forced to rely on the 'kindness' of strangers, to trust blindly what they say. And now that she's with you, you definitely cannot use magic to escape. "What's wrong?" She tilts her head to the side, strands of brown hair swaying with the gentle breeze. "Are you worried? Don't. We'll figure it out." Each word spoken gets deconstructed in your mind, analyzed for signs of deception, for a weakness that you could exploit, that could lead you to have an advantage over the woman beside you. But her tone seem genuine, and people who can so easily mask their feelings from others are the ones most dangerous to have around, that much you know. But still, can you be blamed for wanting more nformation, for wanting reassurance? "Don't you think this is all happening too fast? Why put your life in danger by helping me?" Though your sentence starts paced and steady, soon your words become rushed, the air leaving your lungs quickly. You can't help it, of course, this situation is less than ideal and these sudden interactions after being isolated for so long, at tiems they feel dream-like but unpleasant. "I don't even know your name." She chuckles at your question, though the cheer in her tone is gone when she speaks. "When I needed help, someone drew me away from danger," she explains, not bothering to look away. "Back then, I was in a lot of trouble too. And I had the same reaction you just had." <<if $bitter gt $kind and $emotional gt $stoic>>"So what? Am I supposed to think that we're similar? That you're doing it out of the good of your heart?" Frustration swells within you and you can't help but let it out. "I—"<<elseif $kind gt $bitter and $emotional gt $stoic>>You keep quiet a moment, pondering over her words and being reminded of father's. "But why would anyone want to help someone like me?"<<elseif $bitter gt $kind and $stoic gt $emotional>>You swallow back the frustration, the pain of the injuries still healing, the exhaustion and your doubts. But still it shows, of course it shows. Your hands, tightened into fists shake with terror at the most delicate sounds and you can't help but wonder if following this woman isn't simply another awful decision made in less than 24 hours.<<else>>You look down, letting the words settle in your mind. It's difficult to trust a stranger, of course it is, how could it not? In this world that will see you exiled or killed for something you cannot help but be, you have somehow resigned yourself to the idea that you only had yourself and no one else. But… Your eyes meet those of your companion.<</if>> "Listen, I understand, really, but we can talk about this later. Right now, our priority should be finding safety." You breathe in and out slowly, calming your nerves, or at least attempting to. She's right. There's not much time left. <<if not hasVisited("2.explore-street")>>[[Look around|2.explore-street]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("2.horse")>>[[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]]<</if>>

<style> #ui-bar {display:none;} #passages {width:100vw;margin:0;background-image:var(--banner-story),var(--banner-bottom);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-size:20%, 50%;background-position:top center, bottom center;overflow:hidden;scrollbar-width:none;font-family:var(--header-font);transition:0s;padding:0;} ::-webkit-scrollbar {width:0px;} .passage {text-align:center;transition:0s;} #passages a:before {content: none;} #story {margin-left:0;} h1 {text-align:center;margin-top:25vh;} @media screen and (max-width: 800px) {#story {margin:0;}} </style> <h1>An Angel's Song</h1> <<if Save.autosave.ok() and Save.autosave.has()>><<link "Resume Game">><<script>>Save.autosave.load()<</script>><</link>> | <</if>><<link "New Game" "Intro">><</link>> | <<link "Load Game">><<run UI.saves()>><</link>> | <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings()>><</link>>

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">><<if $kind gt $bitter>>You smile beneath the mask, feeling a bout of laughter coming.<<else>>You hold back a sigh, rolling your eyes.<</if>>"I'm going to ask it for directions.<<if $bitter gt $kind>>Obviously<</if>>" "Ha. Funny." A deadpan tone overtakes her voice and, with a sigh, she continues. "But really, what do you have in mind?"<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>You shrug, turning to look at her for only a moment. "I'm not entirely sure just yet." She sighs, hand touching the delicate lines etched on her mask. "Then why are we going inside there?"<</if>> <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"You were the one who told me we could hide there, what is all this all of a sudden?"<<else>>"Miss, you told me we could hide there, why would I not want to investigate the area?"<</if>> "Well…" She looks away, playing with the hem of her sleeve. You don't let her finish her thought. "Besides you said the place is abandoned," you start, she nods along, brown eyes shining beneath the holes of the mask when she turns towards you. "But there's a horse loose in the mansion's garden. Doesn't that strike you as odd?" "It could be a neighbor—" she stops herself just before finishing the sentence, seeming to think better of it. "No, no one would dare get closer to this place." You frown and though she can't see it, she seems to sense your confusion. "It's…" She sighs, raising her heels a few times, as if trying to calm herself. "People say it's haunted. No one would dare move there." "What about the horse?" "How am I supposed to know?" The woman shakes her head, giving the gate the push it needed to open completely. "Listen, I posed a possibility, you can take it or not. I'm not exactly comfortable going in there, but if we have no other choice I will." You pace around, ignoring her comment. "See, if there's a horse there might be people inside. Don't you think that's a bit risky, to hide inside a place that might be inhabited?" She doesn't answer. "So, if we approach the horse, we might be able to determine if it's cared for. If it is, it might belong to someone living in the house, and if there is someone in the house caring for it there will be clues surrounding the area." Another sigh follows, this one accompanied by a light kick to an invisible rock. "Fine. I guess that's what I get for suggesting the haunted house. Time to get cursed for a hundred years." [[Explore the garden of the house|2.horse.2]]

You close the door behind you, covering your mouth with your hand. There is even more dust in here than in the other room, and you experience the consequences. By a strike of fortune, the coughing fit lasts but a moment and soon you are able to breathe. A set of windows with clear, new paper let light into what can only be a kitchen. One of them is open and you can see from where you stand the overgrown bush that covers the other side of the wall. It's messy, seeming as if someone attempted order but found the task too great. A pile of pots lays on one end of the room, set aside and caked in dust, and beside it is a high table with a single flower pot on it and a couple of books. A few dead leaves and petals lay cover the floor, but otherwise, it seems like someone has tried to revive it. A big oven, many cabinets filled with cooking books, spices and plates, and a long table where many clean pots and cutlery sit. It's a huge kitchen, which means this must have been the house of a big family or, at the very least, a very wealthy family. Your companion walks over to the long table on one side of the room, her fingers grazing the shiny metal of the pots. "It's new." You raise an eyebrow, but she can't see it. "The other ones are layered with dust and grime, but these are newer, or at the very least recently used, hence recently cleaned." You shake your head. "You said—" "I know." "—that this place was abandoned." "It was!" The woman paces around, avoiding looking you in the eye as she continues to examine every piece of furniture. "I— I don't understand, this place is haunted. Well, that's what everyone says. Besides, this property belongs to Lord Sakuma, who would move in without his…" She trails off, staring at the door once more. "Oh no." <<if $kind gt $bitter>>"You didn't tell me this place belonged to him!"<<else>>"What do you mean Lord Sakuma is the owner? You told me it was abandoned!"<</if>> "It is! It was! I just…" She massages her forehead with her fingers, letting out a groan. "I can't believe this, I didn't think—" Soft tunes inundate your senses. The strings of a koto produce a melancholic melody that echoes across the entire house, that echoes in your head. And suddenly, there is no need for more questioning. "Someone is here," you announce, to no one but yourself. "Damn it! Agh, I should have known. We're either getting haunted or caught by the new owners." Her pacing grows in intensity and your heart follows along, getting more anxious by the second. "What now?" "We leave. We can't risk it." She nods, and you lead the way back, your steps careful and premeditated, though the koto would probably muffle all the sounds. //Maybe I can still look for a way to climb the wall, or some other place to hide in.// Your mind is still filled with escape plans, yet none are too much better than the one you just left behind. //Or, if things get too ugly…// Your gaze falls on your companion, slowly opening the door. //I could always ditch her. I could use magic to get back, is as good an idea as any.// She smiles at you, a weak, strained smile. "We should—" "Sir, I think I saw something move right over there!" You stop, your breathing, your movements. You feel every muscle tense as a pair of men come into view, too distracted to notice you right on the door. Your companion breathes once more, her hand taking yours with a force you didn't expect. The two of you find solace in the confines of the house. [[Continue|2.out of time 2]]

You aren't too keen on staying inside this place for much longer. Unwelcome and with the Warlord on your heels, there is no safety you could find within these walls, not for long. And this woman… You can't be sure of her intentions. If she wanted to take you to the Warlord she could have led you there, you were following her blindly for some time. Noticing your gaze, she smiles. "Something on your mind?" "How do you suppose we jump over the wall?" Your gaze follows the path leading up to it. Sturdy stone that towers over you. "There are no trees nearby." "And there are none on the other side either. They were all cut," she adds with a sigh. "It would give us more ground to hide, but we're not exactly safe outside either." "You suggested it, you must have something in mind." She shrugs. "My plan was just look around and hope for the best." You hold back a sigh of your own, eyes scanning for a place to start. But the only things that catch your eye are the chicken coop in one of the houses an the dog guarding it. There's also the supposedly abandoned house, maybe you could find something there. //I guess that's what I'm stuck with.// It's best that you get started then. [[Investigate the chicken coop|2.chick]] [[Investigate the dog house|2.dog]] <<if not hasVisited("2.horse")>>[[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]]<<else>>[[Investigate the outside of the abandoned house|2.horse approach]]<</if>>

The weeds wrap around your boots, obscuring your hakama and hiding whatever is using it as cover, be it snake or rat, or perhaps simply nothing. You make no effort to silence your footsteps or approach cautiously, and the horse makes no effort to offer you much more than a passing glance. Now that you're closer you notice the grass and weeds that it has stomped on, forming a flat surface on which to lay in. It doesn't have reins, or anything keeping it in place, unable to leave. The horse is free, free to roam and free to kick you in the face if you upset it. Your companion finds solace behind you, hidden from view and only peeking out when you take a step. The horse neighs, noticing how much closer you are. It almost seems to frown, to roll its eyes at you. You take another step, but this time your companion does not follow. "What are you doing?" she whispers, "Let's go back, please" she pleads, but if there is anything that cannot be changed in you is that you are determined. Determined to avoid certain death at the hands of the Warlord, at the very least. The coat of the horse is entirely black, shining under the light that peeks from the branches. Its mane is slightly wavy, a bit dirty but untangled, as if recently left to wander after being put to work. The horse stomps the ground a few times, uncomfortable under your gaze. But that just serves to draw your attention even more, and you find yourself staring at its legs. The hair around that area is purple, so dark it isn't any surprise you mistook it for black. And the hooves. You squint, a memory coming to life inside your head. //The tainted horses. Best not to cross them.// Like wisps of fire, you can see the very faint, almost imperceptible, movement of lavender splashes of color in the creature's hooves. Or it could be your imagination, it could be the horse's nervous movements as you continue to ostracize it, it could be the wind, the heat of the sun, combine with how heavy your eyelids feel. Yet you feel the mark itch, you feel it react to the kindred magic nearby. Having seen enough, you take a few steps back, rejoining your companion, who now stands near the gate. She lets out a relieved breath, a hand over her chest. "Finally. Listen, let's not make a decision just yet, maybe we can find something else?" "If we want to get into the house we are going to be needing a way to distract the horse." She bites her lip, pacing around. After a long intake of breath, she speaks "Why do I do this to myself?." [[Look around|2.explore-street]] <<if not hasVisited("2.talk")>>[["Don't you think we're skipping some steps? I don't even know your name"|2.talk]]<</if>>

<<if $varchoice1 is "yes dog">>"Are you serious?" Your companion shakes her head, her hand keeping the gate as it was. "Again? You want to get bitten again?" <<if $bold gt $prudent>>"It's a large garden, we'll be fine," you say, but quite honestly you can feel the dog following each of your movements, ready to attack when needed. "Besides, I'm running out of ideas here. It's either the chicken coop or hiding inside the abandoned, probably haunted, house."<<else>>You shrug, avoiding her gaze. The idea isn't necessarily appealing to you, but neither is being trapped inside this city with the guards, the Warlord and whatever else they throw at you. "I'm running out of ideas and that chicken coop is the closest and most obvious thing in view."<</if>> "Sure," she sighs, resigned. "But you're the one getting in there. I refuse." The decision is made, and thus you walk towards your destination, avoiding the gaze of the dog on the other side.<<else>><<include [[2.dog int]]>><</if>> [[Continue|2.chick.2]]

<<if $varchoice1 is "yes dog">>There are still places you can explore here. You can't afford to leave anything unchecked. Your companion shakes her head as she watches you look on at the dog resting in that old house. "I don't know if that dog will fall for the same trick twice, you know," she says, letting out a sigh when you go in anyway. <<if $bold gt $prudent>>"It's only for a second," you answer, still looking at the fluffy figure of that old Akita dog. Its eyes are big, though the lovely shimmer they had when looking at your companion is lost when they lay on you.<<else>>You remain stuck in place, a bit unsure. The dog's ears perk up when they hear you come closer once more. "It won't take long at all. I just need to make sure I'm not missing anything."<</if>> Your companion shrugs. "Well then, I'll call it over." Her mouth turns into an easy smile, walking farther from you. "Come here, honey! Wanna play some more?" Her voice puts the dog in high alert, however, once recognition settles it runs towards her, tail wagging.<<else>><<include [[2.dog int]]>><</if>> [[I want to pet the dog too|2.pet dog]] [[I should take the opportunity to search the dog house|2.dog house]]

<<set $varchoice1 to "yes dog">>On the opposite side of the chicken coop is a dog house. There, an akita dog lazily looks on at the little chicks running around the garden, barely paying attention to your presence. It yawns, only turning towards you when your hand touches the rustic gate that keeps the animals away from the streets. Its gaze follows the movements of your wrist, your fingers slowly undoing the rope keeping the gate in place. It growls low, but makes no effort to move, at least not yet. Your companion's hand holds onto the door, keeping it in place. She speaks slowly, occasionally sneaking glances at the light orange and white dog. "Listen," she starts, walking closer. "I know what I said about figuring it out as I go, but maybe you could try not angering the nearby animals? I don't want to get mauled by a house dog, that's just embarrassing." "Well, then what else do you suggest? I'm not hearing alternatives." "Honestly?" she sighs, turning back to the house on the other side of the street. "I'm kind of leaning towards braving whatever curse that place throws at me. At least I could outrun a ghost." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>You roll your eyes. "Are you sure about that?"<<else>>You hold back a sigh. The sooner you can get this over with, the better.<</if>> She groans, shaking her head. "Whatever. I'll try to distract it, you do whatever you're trying out. If it starts to attack me, take me out of my misery." <center>———</center> Slowly, the gate opens and the dog rises to meet her eyes. She approaches the creature with delicate steps, her voice low, sweet. "Hello, you," she coos, voice shaking a little, and the dog's ears perk up. It looks at her and then at you, head tilted to the side. "Come on, don’t be shy." Cautious steps match hers. The dog is entranced by her voice, avoiding your general direction. Suddenly its movements stop just close enough to touch. It sniffs the air around her and, in seconds, it wags its tail with fervor, enamored by her perfume. She kneels, dark brown fingers petting a white patch of fur on the dog’s head. "I guess you're not so scary after all, are you?" She smiles at the dog, that moves closer towards her, licking her hand excitedly. "Oh, you're the sweetest."

Most of the chickens are out of their home, roaming the fenced garden, others walking inside the little shed, pecking at the food that has wedged itself in the cracks on the floor. They run away when they see you come closer, but the sound doesn't call the dog to you. Relief washed over you when you look at the shed, shielding you from the animal's gaze. Without wasting another second, you step onto the shed. The floorboards are stained white and black, white and brown feathers spread around the nests, the boxes in the back. Light pierces through the windows, onto the chicken's nests, though there are no eggs in sight. There is very little here but grains and few building tools, however hidden away in a corner are two boxes, empty and dirty. They may not be sturdy, but they’ll do. With your prize in your arms, you exit the shed and walk towards your companion. <><<if not hasVisited("2.dog")>>[[Investigate the dog house|2.dog]]<</if>> <<if $varnum is 0>><<if not hasVisited("2.horse")>> [[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]]<<else>> [[Investigate the outside of the abandoned house|2.horse approach]]<</if>><</if>> [[I had enough investigating, let's just hide in the abandoned house|2.early haunt]] <<if hasVisited("2.chick.2") and hasVisited("2.horse approach")>> [[I think I have enough to try and climb the wall|2.jump]]<</if>><>

You move closer, eyes on the soft, joyful creature. It rolls around on the ground, while your companion rubs its belly. Your heart aches for affection from a fluffly, loving creature, the pet you never had. You stare at the woman, who laughs as she moves to scratch the dog behind the ears. It's not exactly what you set out to do in the first place, but you can't help it once you're there, walking closer and closer to the dog. Noticing your approach, the dog stops, eyes focused on you. Your companion grimaces, gaze darting from you to the dog, but you pay it no mind, you have a goal, and you will see it to completion. Breathing in and out (and ignoring the woman's low '//what are you doing?//', you reach out your hand to touch it. But the dog knows what you are and, though momentarily distracted, it has finally accepted you as a threat to its owner's home. The animal jumps back on its feet, barking at you, a last warning before attacking. However there is little time given to react. The dog growls one last time, taking a single step back and pounces you. Stumbling, you manage to avoid the brunt of its bite, but it bites on your leg instead, the edge of your kimono finally broken free from the rest of it. "It’s okay, doggy. Let $him go now," she whispers, attempting a gentle, relaxed tone, however, the dog only responds by releasing you and growling at her. This place is no longer an option for you and so you run out of the garden and back to the street, where the dog doesn't follow. The mark must have scared it. A shame. <<if hasVisited("2.chick") and hasVisited("2. horse approach")>><<include "2.out of time">><<else>><> <<if not hasVisited("2.chick")>> [[Investigate the chicken coop|2.chick]]<</if>> <<if $varnum is 0>><<if not hasVisited("2.horse")>> [[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]]<<else>> [[Investigate the outside of the abandoned house|2.horse approach]]<</if>><</if>> [[I had enough investigating, let's just hide in the abandoned house|2.early haunt]] <<if hasVisited("2.chick.2") and hasVisited("2.horseapproach")>> [[I think I have enough to try and climb the wall|2.jump]]<</if>><><</if>>

<<if hasVisited("2.horse") and not hasVisited("2.dog approach")>>You crouch and peer into it. There’s a heavy, worn out blanket, a toy ball made with pieces of rope and, tucked in between the creases of the blanket, a rice ball. You reach deeper into the dog’s home to retrieve your prize. It's only half eaten, but it might be a good way to appease the horse if it tries to kick you.<<else>>You crouch and peer into the little house. There’s a heavy, worn out blanket, a toy ball made with small bits of rope and, tucked in between the creases of the blanket, a rice ball. You rise once more, only to notice a piece of rope sticking from below the cloth. An enthusiastic pull, your heart racing as you contemplate the many ways this could be useful to you, and yet, the truth is not quite as promising as it had once seemed. The rope is barely even long enough to be tied around the dog’s neck as a collar, so it must be another one of its toys.<</if>> The dog finally notices your intrusion. It barks loudly, furious, and, upon not seeing you listen to its warning, runs towards you. You pull back as the creature draws closer, however, the dog is faster, its bite strong, and part of your clothing is torn apart. You leave the dog to destroy the mangled cloth, with nothing to show for your effort. <><<if not hasVisited("2.dog")>> [[Investigate the dog house|2.dog]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("2.chick")>> [[Investigate the chicken coop|2.chick]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("2.horse")>> [[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]]<<else>> [[Investigate the outside of the abandoned house|2.horse approach]]<</if>> [[I had enough investigating, let's just hide in the abandoned house|2.early haunt]] <<if hasVisited("2.chick.2") and hasVisited("2.horseapproach")>> [[I think I have enough to try and climb the wall|2.jump]]<</if>><>

<<set $varnum to 1>>You know the horse is less than enthused with your presence, especially after having stared at it for so long. And if there had ever been any doubts, it makes sure to let you know. Seeing you open the gate once more, the horse slowly moves closer, its gaze never parting from yours. You must carefully consider your next step. <<if hasVisited("2.horse", "2.dog house")>>You still have the rice ball in your hand and, while inching closer to the house you notice the horse looking at a particular part of your body. The one hand holding the rice, that is. You smile. Raising your hand, you extend it towards the animal, the rice ball in full view. It's covered in grime, but it's still soft, as if recently given to the dog. The horse is taken aback by the offer, a single step back, confused. It sniffs the air and, one gallop at a time, nears your position. The horse sniffs the piece of rice for a moment. It moves around, in search of any imperfection, any signs of decay until, finally, it bites it off your hands. The both of you hold your breaths, awaiting a reaction from the animal. It chews the rice, savoring it, lengthening what would be, in normal circumstances, a short meal. Perhaps it does it to spite you, perhaps it knows you're in a hurry and enjoys the look (or lack thereof?) of desperation. After an unnecessarily long minute, it moves away. It walks closer to the wall, and as it does, your companion lets out a long breath, full of relief. The horse has moved, and seems to not be interested on whatever you decide to do anymore.<<else>>It huffs, disturbing the earth beneath its hooves. Its gaze follows along your entire body, as if scanning for potential weapons, or perhaps for weaknesses it can exploit and, once satisfied, it rushes forward. "No, no! Wait!" Your companion, previously beside the gate, expecting the worst, steps in front of you, arms stretched out. "Little horse, please wait!" Bracing for impact and afraid of whatever happens next, you close your eyes. Naturally, you have avoided angering a horse during your life, let alone a tainted horse, but you can only imagine how painful a kick from such strong legs can feel. The galloping stops, dust rises and finds its way beneath your mask. You cough, covering your eyes with your hands. As you hold your breath, you feel time stop. Each millisecond rueful and painful while you wait for what can only be your last experience on this land. But it never comes. Your stomach has turned, your heart hammers inside your chest and you can feel how the sweat has accumulated on your back, dripping down your neck. Slowly, fearful, you open your eyes. Your companion caresses the hair on the horse's forehead, whispering a song so low you cannot make out any of the words. Though surprised, relief is the first emotion you manage to process. You let out a long breath, your entire body relaxing and almost making you fall to your feet. "You're a good boy, aren't you? You must be so afraid of that scary stranger," she whispers to the animal, her voice sweet and enthralling. "Who would have guessed? I'm good with animals." You hold back a sigh. This will do. The horse, enticed by your companion's attention and endearing words, decides to walk away, back to ignoring you. No longer does it warily looks at you, somehow convinced to let you explore in peace. "What now?" your companion asks. That is a good question. The plot of land the house sits on is certainly large, it would be impossible to explore it in entirety without wasting too much of your precious time.<</if>> [[Look beneath the floorboards|2.beneath floor]] [[Jump on the floorboards until they break|2.jump floor]] [[Tug one of the boards out of its place|2.tug floor]]

You look around, your eyes following the outline of the mansion, the worn pieces of paper that make up the windows, the large veranda that faces the street, the pieces of wood that lay on its floor and, below, where the entire building is raised, a glimmer of red. You look back at your companion, but she just tilts her head, saying nothing. Turning back towards the house, you walk closer to it, to the small gap found within the foundations and the actual building. Of course, you could ignore it, but curiosity wins over logic and you decide to spare a few seconds to figuring out what lies beneath. With a deep breath, you kneel before it, your head touching the ground. The sun shines bright still, however, it can't reach the space between the ground and the building, the grass only serves to add more shadow to what is already darkened. //This is ridiculous,// you whisper to yourself, //Why am I like this?//|//Just in case, it's just in case,// you whisper to yourself, //for my peace of mind.// The gap is small, small enough that you can't even fit your hand inside. Whichever animal that could find its way there is either incredibly small or able to dig to get there. You squint, moving closer. Red dots form in the dark, two, and then two more, until you can no longer count them. A shiver runs through your spine as the cacophony of squeaks grows in volume. You are breathless, though you can't quite tell whether it's confusion or surprise. //There is nothing here for you.// A low voice, almost a whisper, caresses your ears. And that is enough to convince you of the fact that what you have just seen isn't just a mouse. The voice was clear, the air suddenly hot around you. You remain in place, heart racing, speechless and still able to hear the echo those words left behind. A shadow looms over you. Your breathing stills. ... "Boo!" You jump back up, gasping for breath. Your companion burst into laughter, patting you on the back. "Got you!" It was just a prank. //It was just a prank.// You repeat, but somehow that doesn't reassure you. You look back at the space underneath the floorboards. There's nothing there, and maybe it's better that you don't try again. <<if hasVisited("2.chick") and hasVisited("2.pet dog")>><<include "2.out of time">><</else>>[[Jump on the floorboards until they break|2.jump floor]] [[Tug one of the boards out of its place|2.tug floor]]<</if>>

The veranda, much like the rest of the house, is in a poor state. Though some areas seem to have been renovated —since they are discolored—, most others are a very dark brown, the edges starting to rise above the others around it. But still, is it enough to pull it out? With a sigh, you get on the veranda. It's time to try something. Standing atop the floorboards, you jump a little, testing its strength. You can hear it creak beneath you, you can feel it sink as you jump higher, using all your weight. "What are you doing?" your companion asks, with a smirk. She has climbed on the veranda and stares at you with delight. "Seems fun." <<if $playful gt $serious>> "It is."<<else>>"If you can talk, you can help."<</if>> She snickers at your answer. "You’re so strange." Cracks form on the weakened wood and, on your last jump, your legs get trapped in between the divided pieces. The woman breaks into laughter as you struggle to break away from the floor, careful not to ruin your clothes any more than they already are. She turns away, to lift her mask and wipe the tears forming on her eyes. At least the rest of the boards have budged, enough so that you can remove one large enough to use as a bridge. Probably. <><<if not hasVisited("2.dog")>> [[Investigate the dog house|2.dog]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("2.chick")>> [[Investigate the chicken coop|2.chick]]<</if>> [[I had enough investigating, let's just hide in the abandoned house|2.early haunt]] <<if hasVisited("2.chick.2") and hasVisited("2.horse approach")>> [[I think I have enough to try and climb the wall|2.jump]]<</if>><>

The veranda, much like the rest of the house, is in a poor state. Though some areas seem to have been renovated —since they are discolored—, most others are a very dark brown, the edges starting to rise above the others around it. But still, is it enough to pull it out? Stepping lightly on the wood, you test its strength. It creaks, weakened by time and weather, but it does not budge. You perform the same routine over and over, until you arrive at the other end of the porch, where a rotten piece of wood is hidden away behind a potted plant. You pull back the wood and, curious, your companion follows behind. However, just as she steps onto the veranda, the board flies off your hands and into her face. None of you say anything, letting the thud the wood causes when falling be the only sound. <<if $playful gt $serious>>//Don't laugh, $mc. Don't laugh! You still need her!//<<else>>//What an entirely normal and perfectly expected result!//<</if>> You think you can hear her growl under her breath. "You know, I'm starting to have my doubts about all this." "It'll be worth it in the end," you reassure her, though you're not entirely sure where you're going with all this. "That end is looking too far away to be worth anything." The woman shakes her head and backs away from you, picking up the wood and leaving the veranda. "Come on, what else is there to do?" <><<if not hasVisited("2.dog")>> [[Investigate the dog house|2.dog]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("2.chick")>> [[Investigate the chicken coop|2.chick]]<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("2.horse")>> [[Get closer to the horse|2.horse]]<<else>> [[Investigate the outside of the abandoned house|2.horse approach]]<</if>> [[I had enough investigating, let's just hide in the abandoned house|2.early haunt]] <<if hasVisited("2.chick.2") and hasVisited("2.horse approach")>> [[I think I have enough to try and climb the wall|2.jump]]<</if>><>

Your eyes fall on the large house. It is rotting away, surrounded by weeds, flanked by a large tree, giving it shadow. There is nothing there, or at least there shouldn't be. But the way it's framed, the way the light shines anywhere but on the dark wood, how what had previously been a large wall has been destroyed, dismantled, the foundations left to tell the tale; it feels oppressive. "What happened in that house?" you whisper, to no one in particular. You don't feel anything, not a chill, a faint song, flashes of light in what should only be darkness, yet it is clear that it was not abandoned for nothing. "Hey," your companions calls for you. Her breathing is a bit hard, tapping her fingers against her wrist as she follows the direction of your gaze. You can't tell whether she is feeling pressed for time, regretting having offered help or if she simply fears whatever is inside that place. Maybe it's all of them. "Let's go inside." You point to the house. "If we go now we may have enough time to prepare, to plan." She is quiet for a while, looking at you and then at the grand house left forgotten by time and whoever owned it before, until finally she lets out a long breath of air. "Okay," she says, a worn out smile on her face. "Into the house we go." <center>———</center> You look around. Light seeps through the windows, hastily repaired after the paper was torn, and just that light is enough. It will have to be. The first thing you notice are the soft green walls, decorated with light brown panels. Several plants hang from the ceiling, though they have seen better days. In the middle of the room there is a low table painted white, surrounded by green cushions. And, finally, against the wall is a big cabinet with shiny plates proudly displayed. With the size of this house you would imagine it must have belonged to a high standing samurai, or a noble family, but the floors are dusty and stained, the walls in need of repairs. And there is this oppresive air coursing through the house, barely felt but felt nonetheless. However, a single door at the other end of the room catches your eye. "I can't believe I actually stepped into this place." Your companion takes in a long breath of air, her gaze scanning the area. "Ancestors protect me." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>You roll your eyes.<<else>>You hold back a sigh.<</if>> "Let's see if we can find a place to stay in for a little while." "R-right," she answers, nodding her head. Without a second thought, she walks closer to you. "You lead, I follow." //Okay then, I know where I want to go first.// [[Continue|2.eh.2]]

The wind carries with it a new sound, one that makes your hair stand on edge. Shouts and a cacophony of footsteps drawing closer, those make each second you spend out in the open more painfully aware of your own vulnerability. The people on the other street yell, as the guards push them aside, shouting an order for all to remove their masks. The outline of their figures can be seen crossing into the street where you hide. A warm hand embraces yours, and drags you to the house where the black horse resides. She opens the door and pushes you in. Breathing heavy, you take a quick look around, your gaze not bothering to linger on any of the faded decorations or the porcelain plates inside a cabinet. Instead, the two of you move into the next room to the right and press your ears against the door, attentive to any movements, any sounds. [[Continue|2.out of time 2]]

"Search the houses," a man orders, his voice booming. You can clearly hear every word he says, even though they are quite far. "The townspeople said they heard a lot of noise coming from this area." Slowly, doubtful, you close your eyes and bite the tip of your index finger, letting a single drop of blood paint the wooden door red. This wood is long since dead, but oftentimes vestiges of who lived here, of the energy around them, attach themselves to objects and wood is a great conductor. You breathe in and out, searching, awakening the remnants of energy and life still hidden within this piece of furniture. But it refuses, it pushes back. The wood rejects your requests, it creaks, the sound loud inside your head, inaudible to your companion. But still you push, and for once your mark helps more than it burns. "There are a few animals, maybe that's what they heard?" you can no longer see where it is, but you can hear it. Walking closer and closer. "The Warlord gave them a fright, maybe—" "Just do what I say!" the other answers, the sound echoing inside your head. You part from the door a little, as if that could break the connection between you and the sparks of life still within this house. "Wait." Rustling that starts and just as suddenly stops. Your skin shivers, though you don't know why. "Isn't that the Maeda's…?" He doesn't dare finish the sentence. And from the quivering in his voice, you don't have to wonder why. You hear him gulp. "Ignore that one. Let's not mes with His Lordship's property." <<if hasVisited("2.tug floor")>>"But sir, the are wooden boards missing from that house. Isn't that a little unusual? That is His Lordship's prized property, he wouldn't allow that."<<else>>"Shouldn't we look there too? They might be hidden there."<</if>> The older guard massages his temples. "Fine" he finally says, exasperated. "But not a word of this if there’s nothing, okay?" Finally, the house bites back at your intrusion, burning your fingers and evaporating the little drop of blood that you used to tie the two of you together. And though you let out a little shriek at the pain, your companion is much too distracted to pay it any mind. "Great, just great." She breathing in and out slowly, or at least she tries to. "What are we supposed to do now? I don't have a plan for this." <<if $bold gt $prudent>>"How fast can you run?"<<else>>"Maybe there's something here we can use."<</if>> She turns around, her eyes scanning the room before you. The large kitchen welcomes you in all its splendor, which is mostly faded leaves, overgrown plants and dusty cabinets. There is a single door leading to the back and two windows overlooking the sides of the house. Your companions looks back at you, a though lingering in her mouth but interrupted by your pursuers. Their steps are heavy against the wooden floor, their voices are shaken, nervous, begging for an excuse to leave. "…like the rumor about the old home of the Maeda family." The other guard sighs, his foot rapidly tapping the floor in an attempt to soothe himself. "Please don't." "Did you know? This is the house where Lord Tamashiro's first wife, Lady Tomoe Maeda, and her entire family, were murdered." His voice is now lower, almost a whisper as he leans in closer to the other. "And their spirits, enraged, still linger." The other guard forces out a laugh, so boisterous you sense the woman beside you flinch. The tapping gets louder, and is now accompanied by a loud, singular noise, that of something hitting the door with tremendous strength. "Don't be foolish, that's just a story. Let's just go, there's clearly nothing here." "People say they can, at times, hear her play the koto in her old room. Her favorite song: ‘A night without moonlight’." The man closes his eyes, humming a slow, simple melody. The other shakes his heads, pacing around. "That could be the new owners." "But," he starts, his eyes cold, his voice is devoid of life, "no one lives here." As if on cue, you hear the soft tunes of a nearby melody, an elegant harmony created by the strings of the koto. It’s slow, yet each pull of the chord makes the whole house reverberate with sound. The guards remain still, they tremble, fear colors their faces, or at least the parts visible. The younger man is the first to flee. He slides the door open, almost removing it from the frame, the plants that hang from the ceiling shake from the impact. The other looks back and forth between the figure of his companion and his duty to investigate, his hands shaking, slurred words of encouragement that ring hollow. Gulping, the man runs out after his friend. The music comes to a sudden halt, not too long after, making your companion cling to your arm, as she tries to control her breathing. The two of you lean closer to the door, to look from a small hole in the crevices of the frame and the door. <<if not hasVisited("1.masset")>>[["Masaru, are you home?"|2.hazuki downstairs][$masa to "Masaru"]] [["Masami, are you home?"|2.hazuki downstairs][$masa to "Masami"]]<<else>><<link '"//$masa, are you home?//"' "2.hazuki downstairs">><</link>><</if>>

The two of you breathe a sigh of relief, though hers is a little more strained than yours. She smiles, a weak, small smile, and turns towards you. <<type 40ms>>"We should leave before the guards—"<</type>> The word is stuck in her throat, interrupted by a series of desperate, enraged yells. “—come back,” she finishes, letting out a sigh. Orders are barked out on the streets, and you hear several footsteps through the lingering connection you forced with this small piece of the house. There’s not much time until they arrive at the doorstep. [[Make noise to make the owner come deal with the intruders|2.hey hazuki]] [[Give them another scare|2.house magic]]

<<if not hasVisited("2.early haunt")>>You look around. Light seeps through the windows, hastily repaired after the paper was torn, and just that light is enough. It will have to be. The first thing you notice are the soft green walls, decorated with light brown panels. Several plants hang from the ceiling, though they have seen better days. In the middle of the room there is a low table painted white, surrounded by green cushions. And, finally, against the wall is a big cabinet with shiny plates proudly displayed and no sliding door to protect them. <</if>>Though screaming would probably be faster and easier, it would give away your location. With that in mind, there is no other option but to use the plates to catch the owner's attention. Slowly, you get back on your feet and walk towards the cabinet, your companion right behind you. You take one of the plates and give another to her, not needing to say anything more. The plates crash against the wall, pieces of porcelain scattered across the dusty floor. However, the sound of the koto muffles the sound of the porcelain shattering. You sigh, the expensive cutlery looking back at you with sadness. It must be done. Without bothering to tell your partner what you’re trying to accomplish, you push the cabinet. With barely any effort, it falls down. Part of the wood chips and most, if not all, of the objects it kept within lay broken on the floor. The koto stops and you waste no time running back into the next room. <center>———</center> The guards storm through, shaken at the sight of the house’s interior. The sound of their steps and their banter deafens your own. The oldest among them sighs. "Let’s get this over with." The guards remain at the entrance, fearful to walk inside, hidden behind the tall, robust figure of whom you assume to be their captain. "What is going on here?" A refined voice asks, still on the second floor. You recognize it as the owner's. The men are paralyzed, some gasp and even the captain seems shaken at the sound. "Lord Hazuki?" The captain gulps, but soon realizes what he has just done and kneels before him. The others stumble over each other to follow their superior’s example. "Forgive us for intruding, My Lord. Those idiots said they heard a sound." "That was you!?" the owner shouts, and you can hear his loud steps down the stair. He turns the corner, into the room where the cabinet lies, its contents scattered. He kneels to pick one of the pearl white pieces of porcelain, his face, fragmented, reflected back. One of the guards gasps, pushing one of his companions as he signals towards the cabinet. "That must have been Lady Maeda’s spirit punishing us for entering her home!" "Lady Maeda, please forgive us!" exclaims another, forehead touching the floor. Several others whisper prayers as they follow his example. "Don’t be ridiculous!" says the captain, following after his Lord. "Lord Hazuki, forgive me but there’s an escaped demon somewhere nearby, they might have come here and—" "Captain Atsushi. I just heard this thing fall down. Just when you and your people walked in." He looks to the floor with a sigh. "Do you have any idea what my father’s reaction will be when he finds out my grandmother’s plates are broken? Or what $masa will do to me when $she_m looks at this mess?” “But My Lord—!” "I have too many things to think about right now and cannot be bothered to deal with this tragedy." He sits on one of the cushions, softly sobbing, he avoids the man’s gaze. His fingers trace the figure drawn on one of the broken pieces of a plate. "Oh, what will my future spouse think of me? That I am a mess!" "Of course not, my lord. <<if $masa is "Masami">>Lady<<else>>Lord<</if>> $masa is—" "Oh, I already ruined it all! My marriage is ruined." He bows profusely. “Please, forgive us, My Lord. How can we make amends?” The man puts a strand of hair behind his ear, while he looks to the damaged memories of the past with a smile the others cannot see. “Well, this doesn’t belong to me, not yet. You might have to go talk to my father.” The guards gasp at the same time. Quite a feat, honestly. "Tell him this is your fault and take whatever punishment they wish to inflict on you. Think of it as your wedding gift to me." A disturbed silence reigns, but, in the end, the man agrees. And they all leave. [[Continue|2.hey hazuki 2]]

You hear the man start to go up the stairs, only to be stopped by another's voice. "Hazuki, why were the guards here?" "$masa!" Hazuki stumbles over his words. "I didn’t expect you so soon, how did the kimono fitting go?" "I asked first," the other answers, closing the door behind $him_m Hazuki hesitates, head hung low while he racks his brain for an appropriate answer. With a jittery smile, he continues, "Have I told you I’m very excited to marry you?" "Hazuki, if there is one thing I don’t want is to be married to you." "See? We got marriage all figured out already." Hazuki laughs. Fingers clinging to his sleeve to try and ignore his unsettled nerves. $she_m sighs, shaking $her_m head. "I’ll just go get changed and pretend I didn't just see the mess on the floor." "Good idea. You're so smart." Another laugh, more forced than the last. The laugh fades in the distance as do their footsteps, until the room is silent once more. Finally. Maybe you can leave already. [[And so you do|2.leave house]]

<<if hasVisited("2.house magic")>>But leaving so quickly after they left… You have to be careful about it.<<else>>But leaving so quickly when there are now two people in the house… You can't afford to make any mistakes.<</if>> Your companion looks your way, completely silent. She turns her head to the battered front door, framed by plants and leaves, but also the lingering scent of the guards. "Where should we go?" she whispers, not looking at you. "We don't know this house, we don't know which boards make sound when you touch them, not to mention the owners are already alert." "That's a problem," you say, looking back at the door. "Leaving too quickly might mean the guards won't be far enough to not see us escape, but leaving too late might mean they might bring others, or the owners might go downstairs." Your companion nods. "A minute then?" you propose, she only tilts her head in response. "Let's take a minute to catch our breath." "Do you think we have a minute?" Your companion shakes her head, sounding annoyed. "They could come down at any moment." "We need to give the guards time to cross the street and walk far enough that they won't hear or see us." She takes a deep breath, a hand on her hip. "Well, I guess this is as good a time as any for this." You narrow your eyes. "My name is Miwa Imamura." Your companion bows. It's a slow, gentle movement, practiced and even regal, she must have had a good teacher. "But please, call me Miwa." It takes you a moment to process what she's saying, but soon come to it. "You made things very awkward for the both of us." Miwa laughs, but the sound is so short, interrupted by her sleeve, by the redding brown fingers that cover up her mouth. She looks at the ceiling, remembering where she is. "I'm sorry about the name," she says, "but I had to be cautious, just in case you ran off and it spread around that I was helping the Ginji escapee. You understand, right?" Well, you didn't say yours either, so it's even. "So? Are you telling me yours or what?" "My… name?" She laughs, more naturally this time. "Why do you sound so surprised? Are you that famous that you would worry about me knowing your name? Are you a renowned thief or dangerous, infamous criminal?" Miwa shakes her head with a playful smile. [["I could tell you a fake name."|2.leave house 2]] [["I hardly know you."|2.leave house 3][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "1"]] [["What if my name is Miwa too, huh? What then?"|2.leave house 3][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "2"]] [["I don't get to introduce myself often."|2.leave house 3][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "3"]] [["You never know, I could be a noble in disguise."|2.leave house 3][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "4"]]

You breathe in and out, sitting on one of the cushions that you dragged to one end of the room, darkened, out of view. Fog settles. It emanates from the walls, spilling into the main hallway, heavier where you hide. The house, already enveloped in an oppressing aura, has taken on a more sombre atmosphere. Your companion sings from the kitchen behind you, her voice deafened by the walls that surround her, yet still loud enough to be heard by those who may enter. Its tone slow, mournful, meshes with the koto’s song, sending shivers down your spine. She is out of view, and she cannot see what you do. Hopefully that is enough to keep her from suspecting. The door opens, which makes your heart beat faster, breathing ragged, difficult, though that might be the fog’s fault. Some of the men gasp, their trembling bodies stay near the door, but the oldest among them —whom you can only assume is the captain— pays no mind to your tricks. He walks in without a care, examining each object laid around; he covers his mouth with his hand and attempts to open the window. You frown. This man could ruin everything. [[Fake an earthquake. It'll be fleeting and will tire me, but it will scare them enough to make them leave|2.earth]] [[Focus your energy on harming the captain. I have to be careful though, best not to get too carried away and blow my cover.|2.harm]]

You close your eyes, hands touching the floor. You can smell the scent of jasmine, freshly cut grass, feel vines wrap gently around your hands. The house does not like intruders either, and will cooperate this one time. You breathe it in, and release it in a slow motion. A quake, gradual in its ascent. The table and cabinet shakes slightly, cushions move just a little to the right. The floor vibrates, reacting to your commands, desperate to rid itself of those who would sully its space. But you are in control, and they cannot take more than you're willing to give. The door flies open, that's when the tremors reach their peak. As quickly as your next breath, the guards fall, the captain clings to the wall, to the delicate frames around the window and you, you see it all unfold. "Lady Maeda, please forgive us!" screams one of the guards as she crawls to the door. It’s painful, in this state. After little sleep, little food and injuries, it’s just too much effort to cast, so you release it all in one final tremor, that sends some of the plants crumbling down, the pottery cracked and the dirt spilled over. The captain looks back at the door, his officers shining for their absence and, with a sigh, he leaves the scene. You struggle to stand. Exhaustion is something you simply cannot afford to feel right now, yet here you are. "Is it done?" Your companion calls, fearful to open the door to the next room. It's for the best. "I heard the door opening and—" "Yes," you interrupt her, feeling out of breath. "Let's get out of here before it's too late." [[And so you do|2.leave house]]

A warning. A warning to stop their search for you, one that they won’t be able to ignore. You close your eyes, focused on the sound of the koto, on each note reached by your companion. With every sound you feel a sharp pain, a spark, emanate from your fingers. Eyes opened, you move your hand along the floorboards, smooth and dusty. His steps make the floor vibrate and you follow the sensation, energy expelled in his direction. It travels the wood with a dim light almost imperceptible through the fog, slowly it catches onto his feet. The captain clings to the wall for support, a pained groan caught in his throat. He tries to move, but the energy rises, sending him crumbling down. He gasps for breath, trembling. He coughs for a moment and stands back up again, unfazed, yet confused. You look at your hands, eyes wide, the energy has dissipated. You must have taken too long or the house has seen its goal fulfilled: to reject intruders. Still, the man shakes his head, a hand on his face as he struggles to leave the house. The guards follow after their captain, cursing Lady Maeda's name as they do. The fog stops, as does the song. With some difficulty, you stand back up. "Is it done?" Your companion calls, fearful to open the door to the next room. It's for the best. "I heard the door opening and—" "Yes," you interrupt, feeling out of breath. "Let's get out of here before it's too late." [[And so you do|2.leave house]]

You stay silent for a moment, lost in thought. Is it even worth it to tell her, if you're planning to leave as soon as possible? And what if…? "What if I told you a fake name?" you ask, and she is unmoved by your question. "You would be in your right to do so! Who knows? Maybe mine is fake too." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"I see."<<else>>"Is it?"<</if>> <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"So? What's your name? Or what should I call you?"<<else>>"Only time will tell."<</if>> [["I hardly know you."|2.leave house 3][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "1"]] [["What if my name is Miwa too, huh? What then?"|2.leave house 3][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "2"]] [["I don't get to introduce myself often."|2.leave house 3][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "3"]] [["You never know, I could be a noble in disguise."|2.leave house 3][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "4"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">>You narrow your eyes at the comment. "I hardly know you," you explain, avoiding her gaze. "Can I even trust you?" "Well, you trusted me this far." Miwa sighs, looking away. "And you're going to have to trust me for the rest of the journey too." You don't answer. It's not something that is so easy to give. A name, that is. A name has power, it can break and open many doors, it can close them too. You close your left hand, feeling the mark touch your gloves. An impossible feat, a phantom feeling. There is nothing to do but give in. Your name on her lips will have power only as long as you remain here. As soon as it's safe to leave, she will have no more control over what happens next. "My name is $mc," you start, "<<if $kind gt $bitter>>thank you for the assistance. It is appreciated.<<else>>you didn't have to, but you helped. Thank you.<</if>>" "Ah, well. I am a giver, it's a blessing and a curse. More often a curse than a blessing, but you know, can't help my nature."<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>A smile forms on your face and, with your arms crossed, you tease her back. "And what if my name is Miwa too, huh?" you start, making her laugh, her sleeve hiding the expression this time. "What are we to do then?" She shrugs, walking around. "I guess you have to be Miwa 2. Can't take spot number 1 from me. Unless you want to fight to the death for the name." "Would you really fight to the death for a name?" "You don't know how important this name is to me!" she laughs some more, though it's strained. "Listen, I know it's hard to trust, but you can give an alias or a nickname. Regardless, we are going to need to call you something." "We?" you ask, and she pushes a strand of hair aside hearing the question. "Well, you never know, might need extra help to get you a ride out of Kawa. A safe ride, that is." You let out a long breath, feeling your head throb just thinking about the journey ahead. Names, you learned very young, are powerful things, especially on the lips of strangers. You never know where your name may end up, but then again, can you afford to run away now? Another deep breath. You're ready. Ready to give this glimpse into who you are. "My name is $mc," you say, the words so foreign. When was the last time you had to introduce yourself like this? It feels so far away. "<<if $bitter gt $kind>>I might regret this later, but thank you for helping out of there<<else>>I don't know how this will end but thank you, for helping me get out.<</if>>" "No problem!" She exudes cheer, a sunny disposition regardless of circumstance and, were it not for the heaviness of your eyelids or the pain that at times hits your body, perhaps you would drink it in and feel cheery yourself. Perhaps. "Well, it was sort of a problem but we overcame it together. For now. But don't worry, we'll figure it out. This," she continues, signaling her head," hasn't failed me yet."<<elseif $varchoice is "3">><<set $varchoice to "">>You look away, a little embarrassed at how things are turning out. Saying your name to a stranger? It feels so long since you had to introduce yourself to someone without father looming over you. It's a very strange feeling, but not entirely unfamiliar. Sparks of anxiety and fear, those you recognize to perfection. The others are… excitement? It's such a new experience, yet you can't forget why you ended up here. Your name, it should not be so easily given. But do you have more options? Leaving now, in your state… <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"It's nothing so grand, I just… It's been a while since I met anyone new."<<else>>"I'm sorry, I just haven't introduced myself to anyone in a while."<</if>> It's not a lie, but it does leave out a very real threat. Whoever knows your name and hears it from her lips, that person could ruin everything you worked to create. "That's alright," she says, but you have trouble believing her. Her tone seems sincere, her smile appears friendly, but who knows what hides beyond it? "So, will you tell me your name? I accept aliases, titles, throw what you want at me." You take in a deep breath. "My name is $mc." You're not looking her in the eyes, you can't. It feels… like you're exposed, as if you had taken off your mask and your clothes in front of this stranger. "<<if $bitter gt $kind>>Hopefully leaving won't take me long<<else>>Hopefully we can get along?"<</if>> "What do you mean hopefully?" She crosses her arms around her chest, feigning annoyance. <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"But seriously I have no idea how we'll do this, so that 'hopefully' better add to mine and increase our chances of success"<<else>>"But seriously, don't worry. I'm sure we'll figure something out. I've gotten out of worse situations, believe me."<</if>><<else>>"You never know," you start, mouth curving into a smirk, "I could be a noble in disguise." Miwa snorts, looking you up and down with what you can imagine would be a raised eyebrow, were it not for the mask. "My bad," she follows along, bowing lower for you. Her tone is more serious, though you can detect the hints of playfulness it hides. "went right to criminal activity on instinct. You see, the Warlord of Koyori doesn't often chase after lost nobles, so you understand the confusion." <<if $toic gt $emotional>> You put a hand over your mouth, as if that could muffle the sound of barely held back laughter.<<else>>You turn slightly back from her, too into the role to back away now. "I will pardon this insult."<</if>> <<if $toic gt $emotional>>"How kind of you, your grace."<</if>> With a hand over her heart, she continues, "Would you do me the honor of telling this humble servant your name?" After such an spectacle, how could you not? <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Fine," you give in, "it's $mc."<<else>>"Well, I guess it should be okay, it's $mc."<</if>>And hopefully giving away your name doesn't come back to strike you down, father was probably mistaken about that one. "A magnificent name, truly. Thank you for indulging me."<<set $varchoice to "">><</if>> <<if hasVisited("2.lake")>><<include [[2.end mc lake]]>><<else>><<include [[2.leave house 4]]>><</if>>

A cool breeze has begun to find its way through the streets of Kawa, through the long skirts of the citizens, through their unbound hair. As the sun begins to set, the shadows obscure you from view. A tranquil ambiance has taken over the city, gentle laughter and low humming as the workers get back home. The guards too, you notice, seem to be losing enthusiasm in their hunt as the hours go by. You navigate alleys and busy streets, pulling Miwa's cloak further down. Shopkeepers pay you no mind, enthusiastically calling people in after an ardous work day. The citizens of Kawa seem to have forgotten about you or, at the very least, been soothed by the lull of coming nighttime. Miwa says nothing during the whole walk. She waves meekly at people who recognize her, and avoids shops where owners call her name out loud, until finally you arrive at a large street. She walks with purpose, still silent, and stops in front of a building surrounded by two other two story homes. The building stands tall, with an open, small courtyard that can be looked at through the balcony of the second floor. It extends quite a bit as well, occupying more space on the street than the other buildings surrounding it. Miwa looks at you —or pretends to, since she’s actually looking behind your shoulder—, and then lets out a long sigh. Though uncommon in smaller towns, Kawa seems more permissive when it comes to erecting walls around properties, and thus this one has a small gate in the center of the wall protecting the garden. Miwa reaches for the door, breathing in and out slowly as she pushes it open. [[Continue|2.2.1]]

Miwa stretches her arms above her head, letting out a yawn. "You think the guards are far away by now?" she asks and you look back at the door, pondering over it. "I'm sure they have." Miwa nods, satisfied with the answer. "Then let's get moving, we don't want to anger the spirits of the Maeda household!" [[Continue|2.going back]]

Miwa stretches her arms above her head, letting out a yawn. "We don't have much time before the guards spread out into the forest," she says, though she doesn't sound bothered by it, just unusually calm. "And we're still quite close to Kawa. I would love to ask more questions, but maybe we should take this opportunity to figure out how to get back inside?" "Back inside?" you question her. It's true that you wouldn't be able to get very far as you are, but still. Being so close to freedom and yet being forced to go back, it's no a pleasant situation. "Yes. If we're back in Kawa I could probably get you a place to hide in, at least for a little while, but if you decide to leave now you're on your own, I won't follow." You look back, at the forest that expands before you, at the clear blue sky that will keep you warm only until you reach the tainted parts of the forest. You touch the back of your left hand, remember the priestess and the beast. It's not safe anywhere. As long as you're away from home, you can never be safe. [[But I am done being safe.|2.lake 2][$varchoice to "1"]] [[There's nothing I want more than to go back.|2.lake 2][$varchoice to "2"]]

You stack all the boxes you managed to find right in front of the veranda, and climb on top. They creak under your weight, clearly too weak for much more than a couple minutes of standing on them. "Push yourself up, I'll give you the boards once you're up," your companion says. Heeding her advice, you cling to the edge of the veranda and push up. You heave, feeling your weight drag you down, yet still you manage to find your way to the top. Your companion lays the boards against the roof of the veranda, the wood stretching far above you. While you pull it, she joins you on the roof, easily climbing to the top. Still, the roof of the veranda isn't close enough to the wall, neither is it tall enough, so you're forced to repeat the process once more, until you stand at the edge of the second floor. "Well." Your companion lets out a heavy sigh as she drags the wooden boards closer. "It's the moment of truth." <<if $emotional gt $stoic>>You nod, unable to look her in the eye. Your stomach turns at the sight of it. The large gap between the house and the wall, the drop from the roof to the ground below. Vision distorts, breathing ragged as you continue to stare at it.<<else>>"Right," you respond, staring at ground. You can see your feet only half supported by the roof, feel the wind at times breaking your balance. "Let's see how our invention does."<</if>> Carefully positioning the boards closer to the edge, she releases them from her grasp, the bow tied on each linked piece of wood fluttering with the wind. It descends quickly, your gaze following the trajectory with anticipation, until it finally lands with a great thud. The impact makes it flinch just slightly, yet you're lucky enough that it's 'securely' sitting atop the wall. You let out a long breath, only to notice your companion doing the same. Yet you also know that this is not the end, you still have to go through the trial of fire: will the board break under your weight? Will the ribbon fall? You look over at your companion, who regards you with what you imagine is fear behind the mask. [["After you"|2.jump 3][$varchoice to "1"]] [["I should go first"|2.jump 3][$varchoice to "2"]] [[Remain silent|2.jump 3][$varchoice to "3"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">><<set $varchoice to "">>It's daunting. The sound of the wind, picking up the pace. You look over to your companion and utter the words that lingers in both of your minds. "After you," you say, dreading the walk to the other side. "It's only fair, you brought me here." "Oh, it's only fair." She shakes her head. You can almost see her raise an eyebrow at that. "No, I don't think so. You're going first." <<if $prudent gt $bold>>"It's not that bad!"<<else>>"You're more limber, you should go first."<</if>> <<if $prudent gt $bold>>"If it's not that bad then you'll have no problem going first." With her arms crosses, she turns away from you.<<else>>"I disagree." She crosses her arms, turning away from you. "If anything, you're the one that needs to get out the most, so you should go first."<</if>> You hold back a sigh. This is going nowhere. "Fine," you finally say, moving closer to the board, breathing in and out slowly with each step. "Let's this over with." [[Continue|2.jump mc first]]<<elseif $varchoice is "2">><<set $varchoice to "">>You're running out of time. As the wind continues to blow and make your tattered clothes sway, you wonder how long you actually have left. Turning back, you try to crane your neck to take a look at the street. But there is nothing, what was once a bustling city has become immensely quiet. And, this time, the quiet does nothing but make you more nervous. "I should go first," you say the words before you can actually process them, afraid that giving yourself more time for it will only make you change your mind. Your companion remains silent, her gaze lost in the forest, on the green leaves that turn darker and darker the farther you look. "Okay, be careful." You're almost disappointed at how quickly she agrees, yet this also makes it easier to continue with your plan. The guards, Ginji and his entourage, they all are looking for you, so it must be you the one that not only risks crossing but also makes use of whatever strength the wood has left. [[Continue|2.jump miwa first]]<<else>><<set $varchoice to "">>Quietly, you ponder. Time keeps ticking away, your chances of escaping diminished. Every moment that you waver, every moment in this state, could change the entire course of your life. Or at least that's how you feel, staring at the long way down, at the trees that darken the farther away you look. Your companion sighs, biting her lip. "I'll go first then. Hold onto the board just in case, alright?" You nod slowly, still unsure what the right path would have been, but let her go on her way and hope that the wood survives each step. [[Continue|2.jump miwa first]]<</if>>

The wind carries with it a new sound, one that makes your hair stand on edge. Shouts and a cacophony of footsteps drawing closer, those make each second you spend out in the open more painfully aware of your own vulnerability. "Hey, no pressure, but can you hurry it up a little bit? I think maybe it's too late for me to hide inside the creepy house." Your companion looks back and forth between the people rounding the corner and you. You try to follow her gaze, but the wood tumbles with each movement, the wind not helping keep it in place. "Hey, trust me, you're better off using what courage you have still, getting to the other side." The sound increases, their voices calling for people to leave for the gates and meet you on the other side. They call for you, for the demon on the loose, and you know the time for cautiousness has ended. Breathing in and out slowly, you run the rest of the way and slip onto the other side. It's a long fall, yet the impact comes so quickly. Your arms and knees absorb most of it, but the fall still leaves you reeling, your eyesight hazy and your mind struggling to stay awake. Limbs aching and bruised, you force yourself on your feet. Had you had the time, you could have rolled to soften the blow, but as things stand you're lucky you didn't get captured. Yet. You hear something fall beside you and, now alert, you move away. Your companion dusts her clothes and stretches her back. //Why is it that she has the perfect fall and I end up dazed?// "Are you okay?" she asks, walking closer and taking you by the hand. You don't move away, still recuperating. "I'm sorry, I should have gone first and helped you down." <<if $kind gt $bitter>>//All's well that end well//<<else>//A little late for that//<</if>>, but you don't say it out loud, preferring to be led away, pretending you don't hear them yell out orders, the sound so close. "We should move farther away," she continues, walking into the woods, "at least until the guards start dispersing and they're easier to avoid." You nod. You have to start planning to. Where to from here? Do you have the energy to go all the way back home on your own? "But we can talk about that after we sit down a moment." You can do nothing but follow. [[Continue|2.lake]]

The wind carries with it a new sound, one that makes your hair stand on edge. Shouts and a cacophony of footsteps drawing closer, those make each second you spend out in the open more painfully aware of your own vulnerability. You look back and forth between the source of the sound and your companion, who moves slowly along the faltering board, her body shaking but still moving forward. <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"We don't have all day!"<<else>>"Maybe you should hurry. That sounds ideal."<</if>> <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Well maybe you should have gone first!" she says, letting out a little gasp when the wood creaks. "I take back everything I said, if I die I'll blame you."<<else>>She tries to turn back to answer, but the movement makes the wood tumble and she shrieks. "You're not helping!" <</if>> Breathing in and out slowly, she stands over the edge of the wall, looking down. She whispers something you can't make out and, without turning back, jumps over. Now it's your turn and you don't have the luxury of being cautious or fearful. As the guards scream out to you, the demon on the loose, you numb yourself for what is sure to be a terrible mistake. You hear the wood creak, you hear it come apart as you give your final step and fall to the other side. You close your eyes, your heart beating so fast you can hear nothing else but it, and let your body suffer the impact. You feel it shake you entirely, your limbs sore and bruised, your head spinning. Someone holds onto you, but it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust once more, for your mind to let go of the adrenaline that made it easier to jump. "I told you to jump into my arms, weren't you listening?" A pair of brown eyes stare into the holes in your mask and, instinctively, you pull back. "That was a long fall, I know we were in a hurry but you can't just jump like that, without thinking it through. Especially knowing I'm here and can help you get down." Her hands are around your forearm pulling you up, and you don't have the clarity to push her away. "Let's go, we should stay away for a little while." You can do nothing but follow. [[Continue|2.lake]]

There is much negative about the osen: the tainted animals, the darkened skies, the sickness it inflicts on people. But, if there is anything mildly positive about it, is how fast the forest has expanded. Each tree planted in the forest grows taller than you in a matter of weeks. This is true, as well, for the forest near Kawa. Though you can see that many trees have been cut, the stumps dug out, some sprouts have already started to form. The osen must be reaching this part as well, the roots must be connected somehow, though the sky is clear and light touches the soil easily, it mustn't be forgotten that all of Kyou is at a very high risk of ending like the rest of Utahigashi. You stop just as your companion does, her eyes fixed on the body of water before you. A lake of glistening water, pure and clean, and on the opposite side a small shrine to a God you're unfamiliar with, perhaps a local God, one exclusive to Kawa. Her reddish-brown fingers undo the straps holding the mask to her face, but she doesn't face you, locks of hair obscure her eyes from view. "We'll be safe here for a little," she begins, cupping her hands with water and soaking her face with it. She wipes it with her sleeve and puts the mask back on. "I'm sorry about the name. Consider it a precaution in case you ran off and dropped my name to the guards." "You made things very awkward for the both of us, you know." "Yes, I know, but we can breathe for a moment, so let me bare my identity to you." She pauses, nervous laughter interrupting her words. "Well, at least to some extent. "My name is Miwa. Miwa Imamura, but please call me by my first name," she bows lightly, hands held together. It's a slow, gentle movement, practiced and even regal, she must have had a good teacher. "May I have yours, stranger?" "My… name?" She laughs, more naturally this time. "Why do you sound so surprised? Are you that famous that you would worry about me knowing your name? Are you a renowned thief or dangerous, infamous criminal?" Miwa shakes her head with a playful smile. [["I could tell you a fake name."|2.leave house 2]] [["I hardly know you."|2.leave house 3][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "1"]] [["What if my name is Miwa too, huh? What then?"|2.leave house 3][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "2"]] [["I don't get to introduce myself often."|2.leave house 3][$serious to $serious + 1; $varchoice to "3"]] [["You never know, I could be a noble in disguise."|2.leave house 3][$playful to $playful + 1; $varchoice to "4"]]

<<if $varchoice is "1">>//But I am done being safe.// This thought rings true still in your heart. You have been isolated for too long and now that father no longer stands in your way, you can finally go out and discover for yourself what life truly is like.<<else>>//And I want to go back so bad.// The warmth of your bed, the bright light that shines on the vegetable garden, the sturdy walls that keep you protected, how could you not miss it? Every second you spend out here your chances of survival seem to diminish. But this is how things are, and you can do nothing to change it as of now.<</if>> "$mc? Something on your mind?" She tilts her head to the side as she stares at you. You force back the desire to press the mask closer to your face. "Nothing," you respond, "what should we do then? To get back into Kawa." With ease, she takes off her coat, light purple shimmering under the sun. In a delicate gesture she sets it over your shoulders. "There, it should suffice for now." Miwa nods, satisfied. "The guards are sure to have told the townspeople what to look out for, but maybe if you wear my coat you can blend in a little better." You touch the fabric, incredibly soft, soothingly warm, you hadn't even realized how cold the wind had been until now. Still, your eyes fall on the bundle of clothes that somehow has survived the endeavor. "Don't bother putting on a clean set of clothes, you'll just get them dirty," she explains, "I would tell you to bathe in the lake but if someone sees us, even if they don't question us because of what happened after the play, they will definitely be angry at someone bathing here. "Now for getting back inside…" [[We could make a ladder|2.ladder]] [[I could conjure something, but I need to distract her|2.conjure]] <<if $class is "enchanter">>[[How about we use my sword as a stepladder|2. sword]]<</if>>

It's best to keep things simple, magic-less, as it were. The less opportunities this woman has to see you casting, the better. "We could…" You ponder, looking around you. There are branches on the floor, leaves and vines and you even take a look at your tattered clothes, at the sliver of white that is your under-kimono, apparent through a slit on your hakama. You have just enough materials for something, something that requires little skill and is perfect for the occasion. "We could make a ladder." //A ladder is practical, can be pulled back up to hide the evidence and requires no magic at all.// You pat yourself on the back for it, at least you do so in your mind. No need to look weirder in front of Miwa. "A ladder?" Miwa tilts her head to the side, index finger under the line of her jaw. "I suppose it's the least time consuming choice, if the most boring." Brow furrowed, you ask. "Then what do you have in mind?" "Running away into the sunset sounds more glamorous, don't you think?" She closes her eyes, a sigh full of yearning escaping from her lips. "We meet up with a band of misfits halfway through the journey. We don't get along at first, but then we bond over our shared daddy issues and save the world." <<if $playful gt $serious and $kind gt $bitter>>"How many fingers do you see?" You raise your hand, palm open. Miwa snorts at the gesture. "Don't answer, you're drunk, I can tell."<<elseif $playful gt $serious and $bitter gt $kind>>"Who says I want to save the world?" you question her, a wide smile on your face, one she matches perfectly. "Maybe I join the other team. What then, huh?"<<elseif $serious gt $playful and $bitter gt $kind>>"I don't have daddy issues," you retort, voice even. You refuse to recall a single memory of your father that would prove otherwise. "Besides, surely we have better things to do than come up with ridiculous, implausible scenarios."<<else>>"Miwa, is there something you wish to discuss with me?" you ask her. She simply giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "Seems like you've been through some stuff."<</if>> <<if $playful gt $serious and $kind gt $bitter>>"I'm perfectly sober! How mean you are, $mc." She says that, but she's still smiling. "When I'm drunk, you'll know."<<elseif $playful gt $serious and $bitter gt $kind>>"So you're not going to say anything about the daddy issues?" Miwa laughs, the sound loud but pleasant. "Okay, I get it, you're 'evil', how exciting."<<elseif $serious gt $playful and $bitter gt $kind>>"You're so fun to tease." She laughs. "Sorry, I know we're in a rush but there's nothing wrong with wanting to lighten the mood a little. Relax"<<else>>Miwa's expression relaxes into a small smile, one almost sad. "You're… very sweet, you know?" Her voice doesn't match the energy of it, but it's still hard to ignore. "Don't worry about me. Besides, I can tell you have as well and I wouldn't want to dump my problems on anyone already suffering."<</if>> <<if $kind gt $bitter>>"Ready to get back on track?"<<else>>"Okay, you've distracted me enough, come on."<</if>> She nods. [[Continue|2.ladder 1]]

The quickest, and easiest, way to get back inside is with a spell. However… You look over at Miwa, who smiles at you. She can't be nearby when you cast. There's also the fact that leaving behind remnants of your casting could come back to bite you, not to mention you shouldn't use a strong spell. You haven't rested enough that your body could handle something like that. So then… "We could make a ladder," you propose, trying not to let the deception show. "It shouldn't take too long and we can use things that are around us." Miwa shrugs, mouth curved down. "I guess we could. I suppose we could also pull it to the other side and that way we take the evidence away from sight, but we would need quite a bit of rope and wood." "That's true." You smile, feeling the plan come together on its own. You just need her to leave for a little while, then you can just call her back. "You know the area better, don't you? Can you go look for a few branches? I'll tear part of my clothes since they're already damaged and we can use them as rope." Sighing, your companion nods, though the motion is uncertain and her voice even more so. "Alright. Try no to tear too much of your clothes apart though, looking inappropriate in public is a sure way to draw attention to ourselves." With that, Miwa disappears into the trees, her silhouette obscured by the vast forest. You wait a few minutes until you can no longer see the outline of her figure, or hear her light footsteps against the leaves and then go back to the wall. [[Continue|2.conjure 2]]

You reach for the hilt of your sword, cold under your touch. "How about we use my sword?" you propose, trying to remember the maneuver you read about in books. //It shouldn't be too hard// "It could serve as a stepladder so that we can reach the edge of the wall." Miwa shakes her head. "No use, the wall is too tall, we would just waste time. Would be fun if we could though." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Damn."<<else>>//I really wanted to try it…//<</if>> [[We could make a ladder|2.ladder]] [[I could conjure something, but I need to distract her|2.conjure]]

"Making a ladder is relatively easy," you presume since you never had to do it. Miwa follows along, dropping a set of branches on the ground and sitting beside you. "You just form a crux with two branches." To illustrate the point you pick up two and do just that. "Then, in the middle, you tie rope around the center as tight as you can." Miwa nods, tying her own pieces of wood together. "We do this again on the other side, and keep going until we're done." "That should be simple enough," she responds, struggling to keep the crux in place. "Unless it falls apart while we're climbing." She breathes out a sigh, starting over. "It should be okay, it won't take us long, I'm sure." Another sigh, but she says nothing more, and so the two of you focus your energy on the activity. Surprisingly enough, Miwa doesn't share any other quips, entirely focused on tying branch after branch. Every so often she rises from her seat to look for more branches, or you stop to cut another section of cloth, but soon you're back on track. Before long, sweating and startling every time the animals around the area move around, the work is done. Your new ladder is spread on the floor, hastily tied with vine and cloth. Miwa flicks part of the union with her fingers, looking unsure. "I don't know about this." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"If you want to try your luck walking in from the front entrance, well then be my guest."<<else>>"Unless you have another idea, one that is quick and doesn't require too much effort, you're going to have to know."<</if>> She mumbles something under her breath, but gets on her feet regardless. You follow after, holding one end of the ladder just as Miwa bends to pull the other. It's a little heavy, which is to be expected considering all the wood you had to use, however, when Miwa picks up part of it, you can feel her take on most of the weight. "Hurry up, before this ladder, and my life, fall apart." You would have taken her words as a joke, were it not for her defeated tone. "Ah, what has my life come to?" You raise an eyebrow, slowly moving closer to the wall, careful not to loosen any of the unions. "Look at me, a carpenter, who would have thought?" The frown turns into a smile, though you can see the slight hint of the uncertainty behind it. "What would my parents say if they saw me now? 'Oh, Miwa, if only you had become a fisher instead, you wouldn't have died in such an embarrassing, but fashionable manner!'" <<if $bitter gt $kind or $serious gt $playful>>You roll your eyes.<<else>>You hold back a snicker at her words.<</if>> "I would say, when meeting them in the great beyond, 'I'm sorry everyone, I should have used my brown boots with golden chains, they didn't match my outfit, but those were the lucky ones.'" "What are you talking about?" <<if $serious gt $playful>>you say in a monotone tone.<</else>>you say, trying really hard not to laugh.<</if>> "Hey, we're here," she deflects, looking embarrassed after letting her mind wander. Slowly, the two of you set the ladder against the wall, without a sound, without disturbing the delicate binding keeping it together and, with bated breath, you look up, taking it all in. //It's not very high, but it is high enough for us to reach on to the edge and climb.// [[Continue|2.ladder 2]]

Miwa seems to have other concerns though, as she moves closer put pressure on each step close enough to touch. Some of the branches creak, others seem unstable. She glances at you, but doesn't voice her doubt again. "Let me go first, I'm a little smaller than you, it won't break as easily," she starts and you find yourself taking aback by her words. "Besides, I have to make sure the coast is clear and I don't look as suspicious as you do." "We're the same height," you answer back, not hiding your indignation. "And how do you, sitting on a wall, look less suspicious than me?" "Barely," she whispers, "Just trust me, okay?" "Yes, barely noticeable. What are you really trying to say?" You narrow your eyes as you stare at her, but she doesn't let you question her much longer. With a gentle brush, she shoves you aside and climbs the ladder, her feet lightly touch each branch, preferring to hang onto the sides, which appear more stable, and jumping up a few steps. In seconds, she is standing on the edge of the wall. She scans her surroundings and, once satisfied, looks down at you. "I think the coast is clear!" she says, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify the sound. "Go up the ladder and pull it to the other side when you’re at the top, or break it, I don’t know. Also, do it fast, someone might get close." Miwa finishes, jumping to the other side afterward. You hear a loud thud and a couple of steps, but she doesn't seem to go much farther than the wall. Breathing in and out slowly, you shake your head. She's right, unfortunately, you don't have much time, the guards might be out patrolling right now and you can't afford a discovery. One step, then another. While Miwa seems experienced in quickly going up ladders, you never did get the chance to develop that skill, but you did spend hours in nature, practicing magic everyday. A branch creaks under your weight, but you will your mind to calm down, your heart to steady. Father had once said that being in touch with the wind, letting it carry your weight and your being would make you light. He posed,once, that levitation could be possible though he hadn't figured out how. Now, you're no expert and levitation is not the end goal, but you can close your eyes, you can feel the wind against the bits of skin exposed to it, hear it brush against the trees, sway your clothes, sense the scents, the stories it carries with it. You let your body go up slowly, forcing yourself to stick with this feeling. The ladder continues to creak, some of the cloths and vines unravel as you move up, but it remains steady, steady enough to carry you. You push yourself up on the last step, clinging to the cold, smooth surface of the stone wall, and sit atop it as you look at the ladder crumble to the ground. A mess of cloth and branches. "What happened?" Miwa asks. You turn to face her. She is standing under the shade of a tree. "The ladder broke," you say, however you keep the rest of the sentence to yourself. //Did the wind even do anything to help me?// "Just get down here. It achieved its purpose." You drop down with ease, and walk towards her. It doesn't matter now, you've accomplished your goal, now on to the next one. [[Continue|2.going back]]

From here you can see the outline of the stone walls surrounding Kawa. Breaking it down would cause too much of a commotion, especially out in broad daylight. Maybe you could disintegrate a small part of the wall, hide the hole with vines, perhaps an illusion… You shake your head. No, you need something that won't cause so much chaos, something that will be easy to disintegrate or that is short lived but easy to control. But then again, how are you going to explain this to Miwa? If you make too much noise then she is sure to hear —maybe it will even catch the guard's attention, which is even worse—, so you'll have limited time to look like you were actually attempting to create a ladder, call Miwa without being suspicious and getting past the wall, all without meeting with an untimely demise at the hands of the samurai in Kawa. You open and close your fists, trying to get the blood flowing, the magic coursing. You only have one chance to get this right, so you better get moving. Your inner robe is somewhat hidden from view, though the outer kimono is torn. The fabric is weakened, even though it wasn't in contact with the osen for too long, and so you can easily strip it from its place a few times over, collecting enough that Miwa can see you didn't just walk around with no purpose. The second step of the plan is trickier and more delicate. <<if $class is "alchemist">>You take out your spellbook from your bag, worn but still with magic coursing through its pages. What you’re looking for is one of the pages in the first section, with a plant messily drawn on it and a series of instructions for improving growth rate. This spell is not for immediate results, rather it was meant to have the effect of an improved fertilizer, not to mention it would take more time to prepare so, instead, you take a more direct approach. <<else>>Elemental manipulation relies too much on a tranquil, well rested mind, on a healthy and appropriately sustained body. But your exhaustion, injuries and roaring stomach make for a very dangerous combination. Yet, what else are you to do? Taking the risk of collapse is better than the risk of getting found out by the guards.<</if>> [[Continue|2.Conjure 3]]

You pick a branch and start drawing. Sabine’s sigil is meant to amplify spell casting, make it more powerful, yet also more erratic. A calm mind and immense concentration are necessary for it to work properly. You breathe in and out in a steady pace as you continue to draw. Each line must be perfect, there is no room for error when using angel sigils. A bird chirps beside you, flying towards its nest. The distraction makes you jump in place, the circle ruined. You push dirt into the crooked line and start over. Two circles, connected by six jagged lines, each one alternating between three and nine partitions. And when you’re done you step back. <<if $class is "enchanter">>You unsheathe your sword and prick the tip of your finger with the blade.<<else>>You bite the tip of your fingers, hard enough that it will draw blood, gentle enough that it won't hinder your casting.<</if>> A single drop of blood falls onto the outer circle. Slowly, the rest of the sigil lights with a pale blue light. You breathe in and out slowly, putting your glove back on. There are no guarantees when it comes to magic, however, this one shouldn’t be too dangerous. At least you hope so. Carefully, you reach for a branch fallen off the bird's tree. It is the length of your arm, recently fallen, you presume, and with quite a few leaves still attached. The spell needs something to interact with, something to help grow and this branch has enough life that it will respond without effort, but not so much that it will be difficult for it to crumble when you're done. Slowly, you set down the branch, no line out of place With closed eyes, you can still see the outline of the sigil. It burns brighter when you get closer, the earth shakes beneath, light tremor traveling through your feet. You release most of it as you breathe, only a sliver of energy is needed. Slowed down breathing, careful steps back. You feel your hands hold onto the roots below and, with a careful yet rapid motion, pull the trunk up. Th earth parts to let the little tree out, a mess of vibrant green and brown, covered in yellow and pink flowers. Face flushed from the exertion, you let out a scream. The sound startles the nearby birds, and the sincerity of it surprises even yourself. It leaves your throat dry, but you have no time to lose, that single scream and the pieces of fabric you let fall from your arms will have to do. You wait for Miwa farther from the vine, and feel your palms sweat when you hear her steps. [[Continue|2.Conjure 4]]

"$mc? What happened? I—" You don't look back at her, trying to sell the lie. Instead, you hear her breathing stop for a few seconds, the branches fall to the floor and the crunch of the leaves as she walks just a little bit closer. "What… is that?" <<if $emotional gt $stoic>>"I—I'm not sure," you say, voice quivering. You wish it were because you're so committed to this lie, but your eyes dart from Miwa to the tree, desperate to get this situation behind you.<<else>>"I don't know, I—I just heard a sound and…" you try to explain, but coming up with lies on the fly is proving difficult on an empty stomach and the worry of losing time.<</if>> Miwa stares at you, as if she could pierce through the mask, through the facade and see the truth written on your skin. But then her attentive gaze leaves you, lost in the little miracle standing before you. Her eyes follow the height of the tree, just tall enough that you could jump to the other side with ease. She looks back at you with a neutral expression, but says nothing more, instead she focuses on the flowers on the tree, her fingers caressing the soft petals under her fingers. "What should we do?" you start, trying not to let your worry show, though it is apparent from the way your body tenses, your fingers tapping against your elbow. "Surely the guards heard." Miwa gasps. "Right! We'll figure this thing out later, first let's get back inside. At the very least this will make them think you escaped." "You first," you respond, letting out a relieved sigh, that hopefully was interpreted as a fearful one. And Miwa does just that, paying little attention to anything else but climbing the thin tree. Once she's out of sight, it's your turn to finish this overly complicated plan. Climbing trees was not on your father's school curriculum, not that you ever expected to be climbing trees on a time limit. But desperate situations call for desperate measures. Another sigh, the hot breath causing an uncomfortable feeling on your parched throat. No matter, it's time. Your foot touches the sigil, destroys the carefully constructed lines, covers the drops of blood that spilled away from the branch. It was premeditated, of course, but not less nerve wracking. The earth parts once more, it trembles below you. The tree is pulled down, and you hang onto every little branch, pushing yourself up before it's too late. Branches and flowers crumble as you take a leap of faith. Your fingers hang onto the edge of the wall, your breathing ragged as you pull yourself up to jump inside. "What happened? Are you okay?" Miwa asks, but you're too tired to answer. You shake your head and jump down, following behind her and ignoring further questions. [[Back into the city|2.going back]]

<<notify>>Your game has been autosaved<</notify>> <<include [[demo end]]>>

The wind sweeps leaves off their place on the cherry tree next to the balcony. They fly down slowly, right on the grass, on the wooden floors of the veranda surrounding the entrances to the lower floor. Beside you, around the walls, are bushes with small red flowers, but apart from the tree and those brimming flowers, there is nothing else of note. Not that it makes it any less beautiful, any less calming to stare at. Yet your companion doesn't seem to agree. Each step of hers is heavy, dragged out, her mannerisms uncertain, her breathing uneven. She is troubled, that much is clear. Sighing, she removes her shoes, walking only with her stockings to keep her from the cool floor. You follow after, doing much the same. Without bothering to announce her presence, she slides the door open. [[Continue|2.2.2]]

A faint orange light falls on the little receiving room, making everything seem warmer than it is, older, nostalgic. Miwa lets out a heavy sigh. "There's no one," she whispers, to none but herself. She doesn't look back at you. "Good." You don't say anything, preferring to let her talk, your gaze still examining each corner of the room. This place gives off a cozy, familiar feeling. There are few things here, a single shelf, an altar and a couple of paintings. The shelf is lazily organized, papers, scrolls, a couple of leather bound books stored at random, even a little statue of what you think is a local God, one whose name you can't quite recall. The paintings are of nature, expansive mountains, fish and carefully written poetry. The strokes are clearly methodical, precise, but it is this exercise of control which makes it look a bit dead, cold, like a place so far away you can't even fathom it's truly there. Maybe that's why the last painting, the one atop the cared for altar, stands out so much. There is no precision at all, there is little purpose in the strokes. And, well, is it really so hard to guess why? The tilted house portrayed, the four stick figures and the bundle of blobs that you guess must be the family's pet… It can only have been drawn by a child. "This isn't my house, to be honest," Miwa confesses and, still wrapping your head around the layout of the room, it takes a moment to understand what she means. You take a step back, clashing against the closed door. The last thing you need is being caught intruding into someone's home, someone who is clearly wealthy enough for a garden AND a second floor. "No, relax!" She raises her hands, as if that could soothe the panic in your heart. "What I meant to say is that it doesn't belong to me, but I do live here. The owner sort of…" She waves her hand around, trying to come up with the right words. "Adopted me." Your breathing evens out, though you feel your body still alert, your hair on edge. You can hear, in the background, the sound of faint laughter and talking, people walking the streets. If you were to make too much sound, someone would surely hear. "That painting you were staring at…" she starts, walking closer to the altar. Her eyes reflect the light of the red candle. It sits on a white plate, the same precise strokes having drawn a series of flowers on it. "It was drawn by his daughter." Hands together in prayer, she bows slightly, her eyes closed. "Hello, Konoe. Hello, Lady Kikuchi. I'm home, and I've brought a guest." Her voice is a whisper, yet, even lower, she manages to say something you cannot hear. After finishing her prayer, Miwa turns around, massaging her elbow. She hasn't smiled at you since you've arrived, you notice. "$mc, I have something to—" "Miwa!" The voice rings in your ears, laced with worry, breaking apart in instants. Just like it, the door opens with such force you worry it will fall off the frame, however it stands still, not a single piece out of place. The man wraps his arms around Miwa, eyes closed as he lets out a relieved sigh. "I was worried sick," he says, not letting go. His voice has a natural commanding tone to it, however, its gravity does not detract from how emotional it can be. "I'm glad you're okay," you hear someone else say, this one more composed. You can't see him from where you stand, having Miwa and that man obscure your sight, and you're too afraid to move. "I was really thinking that—" "Please don't say it. Don't mention it." The man before you begs the other. Finally, he releases Miwa, taking a step back. "Miwa, don't do that to us ever again. Promise me." His voice breaks more and more, his gaze set so hard on Miwa that you wonder if he worries she will disappear if he's not looking. The other man walks into vision, a concerned hand caressing the shoulder of the other. But he stops in his tracks, his eyes lingering on you. The one close to Miwa follows his gaze, glossy eyes that soon lose its shimmer. You stop breathing, every single sound deafened, all muscles in your body tense. "You…!" Miwa steps back, pushing the man away, she extends her arms forward trying to force him to keep a distance. "Akio, wait, I can explain!" "Explain!?" Akio shakes his head, pacing around the hall. He's trembling, closing and opening his fists as he mumbles to himself, until he finally settles on something to say. "Do you have any idea what you have done?" His voice lowers in tone, and though he talks to Miwa his eyes are on you. The other man's icy glare hasn't left you either. He looks you up and down, grimacing. "It's just for a few days, you won't notice $they'$re here." "Miwa, how could you…!?" Akio's footsteps grow more hurried, the veins in his hands more tense. "Akio, love, breathe." The other man soothes, reaching for his hand but Akio pushes it away. "How can I relax in a moment like this, Shohei!?" he spouts, his voice cracking as he runs out of breath. Shohei pays the yelling no mind and takes the opportunity to caress his face with his gloved hand. "Miwa could—" "If you keep this up you will die, so try to breath in and out slowly, dear" the other says, gently moving up to brush a strand of black hair beside his ear. He lets a few seconds pass and once Akio's breathing has calmed somewhat, he turns towards the two of you. "Now you two, what is the meaning of this!?" "Okay, listen, $they'll just hide for a while, then I'll personally escort $him—" Miwa tries to continue her explanation but Akio interrupts her, having regained some of his composure. "Miwa, have you any idea what happened today?" Miwa looks at you then back at him, confused. "The Warlord—" "No," Shohei intervenes, shaking his head. "There was something else." "What do you mean?" Miwa's voice is devoid of any cheer, she can't even try to sound like she knows what she's doing anymore. You decide not to make it worse by opening your mouth. "Some refugees arrived today, but when they were counting one was missing," Shohei explains, "and not only that, the High Priestess sent word that a demon had escaped the attacked village, a demon that was most likely responsible for the village succumbing so quickly in the first place." You bite your tongue. It's not true but even if you said anything, who would believe you? Who could ever believe anything you say? You knew Miwa's help would only be temporary, that as soon as people knew you would have to escape, you just didn't expect it so quickly. And now that you're presented with this situation you feel your feet stuck to the ground, your body unmoving. You're trapped. There's nowhere to run now. "Are you serious, Akio?" She shakes her head. "What are the odds that—" The man crosses his arms, and apparently it's enough to discourage Miwa from continuing. "Really? Then surely you will ask your new friend to remove their gloves? The escaped demon has a mark on their hand. Or maybe they could remove their mask and show their true face." "I…" Miwa doesn't look at you again, her gaze casted down. "I will solve this, let us talk in private." "What!?" Akio's voice rises again, the sound echoing across the house. You just hope no one else is there to hear it. "Miwa, are you insane?" "Trust me." "Trust you? I already trusted you this morning and look what you've done!" Finding no support in Akio, Miwa turns to Shohei. He looks away, playing with the hem of his sleeve. "$They're still here, $are n't $they? Would such a guilty party stay put?" Shohei sighs. "Miwa, where else would $they go? Of course $they'$re still here." "I won't be long, I promise." This time Miwa doesn't look them in the eye, simply awaiting a response. Akio scratches his head, still frowning. "If I hear a single sound, Miwa, I will come here and take care of this 'problem' myself." He emphasizes the word 'problem', his eyes cast on you when the word leaves his lips. You just look away. The two of you wait for them to leave, though their footsteps don't echo very far, seeming to have stopped close enough to come running if need be. And hopefully there will be no need. [[Continue|2.2.3]]

Whenever the topic of leaving the forest would come up, Father would often say: 'There is nothing there for people like us.' That was when you were already a bit older and he didn't bother lying about letting you leave on your own. It seemed ridiculous back then, to have only your father for company for the rest of your life as if there was nothing else, no one else. What of your dreams? What about friendships? What about love? Did you even want any of that? It all appears so foolish now, to think father, who had experienced loss over and over again, rejection and betrayal upon discovery, would be wrong about something like that. The fact that this thought is even occurring to you is <<if $grief is "anger">>infuriating<<elseif $grief is"depression">>bittersweet<<else>>expected<</if>>. <<if hasVisited("2.house magic") or hasVisited("2.conjure")>><<if hasVisited("2.house magic")>>"Things have gotten complicated, haven't they?" The sound of her voice startles you, and you raise your head to meet her gaze, but she's not looking at you. Her tone is not one of reprehension, instead she appears… distraught. "All those noises, the fog, the quake… A haunting? Please, I'm not so naive I would fall for that.<<elseif hasVisited("2.conjure")>>You were acting a bit strangely, I had thought you would simply escape but what's my surprise, you actually made something for us to jump to the other side and it was pretty to boot. What a coincidence!" She laughs, mockingly, though you can't tell whether she's mocking herself or you.<</if>> //Of course.// Perhaps it was you who was foolish, thinking something like that could be so easily hidden, but what else were you supposed to do? "But I thought… maybe it doesn't matter." She shrugs, sighing. "So what if they can use magic? Wouldn't it be hypocritical of me to judge you simply because of it? It's not like you attacked me or anything." Eyes open wide, you dare not question that. "In my mind, I kept thinking… Maybe $they'$re scared, away from home. Their family must be looking for them and I refuse to be another monster, I will not tear families and communities apart. As long as I can get $him out quick and safely, then everything will be alright, no one has to know." "But you were wrong," you finish for her, and to be honest, you believe it too. "I haven't been sure of anything in many years, to be honest. This is one of those situations in which I don't really know what the right answer would have been." Miwa turns around, the easy smile returned to her face. "$mc, why didn't you run just now?"<<else>>"Ah, of course. Of course. You almost had me fooled, good for you." The sound of her voice startles you, and you raise your head to meet her gaze, but she hasn't turn around. Her tone is not one of reprehension, instead she appears… distraught. "I guess I should have known. Very few would stand up to Ginji just out of sympathy, even those who have been wronged by him fear him too much, for most others he's a hero." You don't answer, what else is there to say? "I… I don't know what I thought. I guess I was hoping you were like me." Her voice breaks at that, but you decide not to inquire about it, not like it matters. "But that's ridiculous, I was just being foolish and now we're both stuck in this situation with no easy way out." Miwa shakes her head. "Why… Why did you not run away just now? Why stay?"<</if>> <<if $playful gt $serious>>"Maybe I want to be caught," you confess. You had meant it as a joke, but somehow the words come out so sincere, yet so pained. This life you have been cursed to lead has had its fair share of obstacles. You had thought the mark the most worrisome of all, yet here you are, proven wrong once again. <<if $grief is "depression">>//And Father isn't here anymore to help me overcome this.//<<if $grief is "anger" or "bargaining">>//Why did he have to be right? Why is this happening?//<<else>>//I just wish I could forget it all.//<</if>> <<else>>"What's the point?" you confess. The panic has now faded, there is now only numbness. A defeated acceptance of your fate. "Your friend is right, I have nowhere to go." Home is so far away, Father's last treasure and gift to you. It feels like you took it for granted, yet it is at the same time so bittersweet that your prison is also the safest place you could be.<</if>><</if>> "That's it?" she asks, sighing and pacing around. "No explanation, no backstory? No 'I'm just a poor orphan whose family was killed by that monster!'. What am I supposed to make of all of this? You'll just… leave it at that?" "I don't know what you want me to say." You are tired, so tired. Your head and feet ache, and every moment you spend debating what to do adds another layer of pain, a wave of discomfort that makes even the mark sear. "Well, for one I want the truth." Miwa breathes in and out slowly, and when she looks at you again it is only with determination. "Listen, I know people jump into blaming the shinmoku for everything, I feel like such a hypocrite." <<if $bitter gt $kind>> You roll your eyes at that.<<else>>You hold back a sigh, trying to hide your disappointment.<</if>>Of course she wouldn't know you're not a shinmoku, not human either. Something else, something not welcome in either place. "But I need to know. Did you have something to do with what happened to that village?" "When people have already made up their minds about the truth, what use is there in contesting it?" "The difference is," she starts, walking closer to you. "That those people don't want the truth, they want a scapegoat, someone to blame, kill and forget about so that they keep pretending that the world isn't falling apart in front of their eyes." Miwa breathes in and out, and continues: "I can't let myself fall into the trap of blaming others for the tragedies around me, yet I still have so much doubt. It would be easier to follow along, but it would be wrong." She smiles, it's a tired smile, a doubtful smile, yet there's still something lingering beneath it all. Almost like desperation, like a need you couldn't possibly understand without asking her, and she may not even be ready to word it. "I see you, you know? I see the hurt and the fear, and I wonder if perhaps I'm asking the wrong questions. Maybe I should be offering you help instead." Miwa laughs, but doesn't keep talking. She wrings her fingers together and you wonder if maybe she's giving you time to respond. [[Why? Why is she doing this?|2.2.3.1]] [[What, so she can turn around and stab me in the back? I'll take my chances outside, thanks.|2.2.3.2][$bitter to $bitter + 1]] [[I appreciate she getting me this far, but I overstayed my welcome. I 'll just leave.|2.2.3.3][$kind to $kind + 1]] [[I can't afford to trust too much, especially when she's so… understanding. Something is off.|2.2.3.4][$bitter to $bitter + 1]] [[I want to stay, but I don't want to put other people in danger.|2.2.3.5][$kind to $kind + 1]]

You already asked her, but the question still lingers. After all, after so many years, after so much teaching and isolation, hearing and seeing others shun your kind, it's hard to believe anyone would risk death just to hear a single lost soul, one that's part demon no less. You stare back at her, mulling over it. "Why put yourself at risk like this?" you finally ask. Her expression doesn't change, there is not a single semblance of surprise, she manages to look entirely vulnerable, completely open, yet so guarded. "What do you have to gain? If someone sees me…" The image crosses your mind, the guards, the Warlord towering over you, the silence that follows after that single slice… "You will be done for." "I—" <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Don't lie," you interrupt her, "I know nothing is given for free, much less to someone like me."<<else>>"I'm sorry, but just like you and your friends are wary of me, I can't help but be wary of you."<</if>> Miwa laughs, caressing her wrist as she tries to hold your gaze. "I know you don't believe it, but I don't want to see someone suffer when I could have done something to stop it." "You don't know me." "You don't know me either," she responds immediately after you finish speaking. You frown. "You could have killed me, you could have hurt me. You didn't." "Didn't you ever think that maybe doing that would have brought me more trouble?" She is quiet a moment, until finally she sighs. "Still, I can't know that. I just saw someone that needed help and offered it. Besides…" she looks away, her hand closing around her wrist with more strength. "I have a feeling this is what I'm supposed to do." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"What are you talking about?"<<else>>Once more, you find yourself frowning.<</if>> "I don't want to die, of course, but I don't want to live feeling guilty, there's enough of that." Her eyes meet yours again, and resolute she asks: "$mc, what are you going to do now? Can I help?" [[What, so she can turn around and stab me in the back? I'll take my chances outside, thanks.|2.2.3.2][$bitter to $bitter + 1]] [[I appreciate she getting me this far, but I overstayed my welcome. I 'll just leave.|2.2.3.3][$kind to $kind + 1]] [[I can't afford to trust too much, especially when she's so… understanding. Something is off.|2.2.3.4][$bitter to $bitter + 1]] [[I want to stay, but I don't want to put other people in danger.|2.2.3.5][$kind to $kind + 1]]

You snicker at her words. It's a pretty tale, sure, but you can't afford to be one of the fools that falls into the trap of believing it. She wants to help, she says, she wants to trust. Well, if there is one thing you know for certain is that there is no one in this world you can easily trust, even father had plenty secrets he took to his grave. You've indulged this whim for long enough and it has proven to be a waste of time. It's better you leave now, before you turn around and feel the warm blood dripping from the knife in your back. <<if $emotional gt $stoic>>"Are you insane?" the words come out sharp, laced with emotion. "That's a very nice story you just told me, but surely you're aware about how ridiculous you just sounded? How could I possibly trust you? How could I possibly— No. No, what am I doing?"<<else>>You close your eyes, breathing in and out slowly. Every second you stay in her presence is a second you draw closer to betrayal. It was a bad idea from the start. "I should have left on my own from the start," you whisper, not even noticing the words have come out of your mouth. But the next ones, the next ones you speak out with purpose. "I can't trust a human, I should have known."<</if>> "$mc, I promise that I—" <<if $emotional gt $stoic>>"What am I doing giving you explanations?" you say, letting out a bitter laugh. "Goodbye, Miwa, thanks for getting me away from Ginji but I'm not staying to find out what happens to me when your friends come back."<<else>>"Promises from strangers mean nothing." You can't help the bitter laugh. "Goodbye, Miwa. Next time don't meddle into other people's affairs, it's for both our sakes."<</if>> "$mc don't be ridiculous, you have no idea what you're doing! He's—" But you stop listening, you can't. You turn around. [[...|2.2.4]]

It was nice while it lasted, you realize. It was nice having someone there beside you after being alone for so long, having someone to talk to, someone that can and does respond. Miwa's cheerful and kind demeanor has made a difficult situation somewhat bearable. She didn't have to help, she really didn't but she did and you can't help but feel grateful, your chest warm and the corners of your lips lifting slightly. It's not often you find yourself in the presence of people who, upon discovering your identity, don't recoil in fear. It's refreshing. But that's just it. It's a one time thing, it's not something that is meant for people like you, it's not normal and it's not going to happen again. So you best leave before the memory of her kindness can be sullied any more. Not like her friends were too fond of you either, though you can't really blame them for being careful. You smile, the image of the empty halls and silent rooms of the cabin calling back to you. It might not be ideal, but it's safer there. "Miwa," you say and she lifts her head to look at you. "Thank you for stopping to help, I didn't think I would ever get to experience that." Miwa smiles, but it is a weak smile, and in her unsure movements, in the way she plays with the hem of her sleeve, it's obvious she understands exactly what you mean. "Yeah," she answers, "I guess I can see why you would think that." "I really do appreciate it, but I think it's fine now." Miwa tilts her head slightly. "I should go, you've done all you can, now it's my turn to save myself." "But $mc, you have no idea how relentless Ginji can be, please let me—" "No." You shake your head, to reiterate the point. "Thank you and goodbye." Finally, you turn around. [[...|2.2.4]]

You had few choices when you followed after her. With Ginji and the guards on your tail, you could hardly be picky, had you stayed in that alley, who knows what would have happened? You heard a kind voice and a tiny hope sprout inside your heart, a hope that you are ashamed to even acknowledge. And now look at you, defenseless in front of a human. You, who has been both blessed and cursed with magic, unable to do more than run from your problems or rely on someone else's help. //No, no, no. I… I can do this alone, I don't need anyone's help! Whatever comes at me, I can take it!// You dig your nails into your palm, your eyes burning. The attention of your pursuers has been diverted and the cover of night will give you a chance to finally be away from this damned town, that is what you tell yourself, but you know things won't be so simple. They never are. You frown, feeling a part of you resist to the idea already on your mind. This freedom from father, you realize, has come with many drawbacks. "$mc," Miwa starts and you avoid her gaze. You need to get out, you need to escape before they have a chance to stab you in the back. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but…" You block out the rest of her words, you don't need to hear them. "I should have known this would happen, he told me it would," you whisper, but not low enough that Miwa can't hear. "What are your plans for me? Do you have a basement full of torture equipment? Will you claim a reward when you send me to them?" "What?" Miwa takes a step back, out of breath. With a hand on her heart, she continues, "I would never do something like that!" You snicker at her words, though there is a sharp, short pain in your chest. You ignore it, you won't let whatever it is put your life in jeopardy. "I don't need your help." The words come out swiftly, your mind blank as you turn around. [[...|2.2.4]]

It has been a lonely couple of months. Day turns to night ever so slowly, weeks pass without you uttering more than a couple of words, the cold air of night arrives and your blanket is not enough to keep it from you. That kind hand offered to you… It might have been foolish to follow after it, but that part of you that clung to its desire for freedom saw it and responded. Now you have dragged more people into your problems. This is not a burden you can let anyone else carry. Your gaze meets Miwa's and you feel your throat clog, refusing to heed your commands. //I don't want to be alone again. Not so soon.// But no wish of yours has ever been granted without hurt coming as well. //I have no choice, do I?// "$mc, I know it's hard to believe me but I want to help you. Maybe we can come up with something together." Her voice is low, soft, full of promise, yet below it you sense so much doubt. Of course, how could she not doubt? She should not have to deal with your problems, those are for you to face, alone, like you were meant to from the start. "Miwa, thank you," you whisper, you can manage only that. "But I have caused you trouble and if I stay I am sure to cause even more." Miwa laughs, but the sound is filled with melancholy, with sadness. "I cause them trouble all the time too, so surely I should repay my debt by shouldering someone else's." "No." You shake your head, more determined now. "You shouldn't." With a sigh, you turn around. [[...|2.2.4]]

You're stuck in place, warm brown fingers holding onto your wrist, exerting a force you didn't know they had. "You're being so dramatic and for what?" she says, cutting you off before you can retaliate. "I won't let you die such a meaningless death. I don't care what you say. I don't care what Akio says." <<if $bold gt $prudent>>You struggle to get out of her grasp, but she pulls you back with ease.<<else>>You stare at her, incredulous at her words.<</if>> "$mc, think about this carefully. What are you going to do? Do you have a plan or are you just hoping for death to take you and leave this tragic realm?" You swallow back your response, because quite honestly you're not entirely sure. "<<if $bitter gt $kind>>I don't need your help<<else>>I can defend myself<</if>>." <<if $bitter gt $kind>>"Yeah, you said that already, but if you think back just a couple of hours ago then you will realize that you're lying. You're only walking into death with your eyes wide open. It will backfire."<<else>>"Oh, really? Well, I guess you must be pretty powerful to be able to defeat Ginji, his men, the guards and every single person that sees magic, gets scared and tries to attack you."<</if>> <<if $bitter gt $kind and $bold gt $prudent>>"Well, that's my own damn business, isn't it? If my body is burned at the stake that has nothing to do with you."<<elseif $bitter gt $kind and $bold lt $prudent>>You stay quiet, rage burning inside you. //I'm not helpless// you want to say, but the words don't come out.<<elseif $bitter lt $kind and $bold gt $prudent>>"Whatever happens to me is my own concern, it has nothing to do with you. I appreciate your kindness, but surely you realize that this can only end badly for you."<<else>>You frown, feeling somewhat defeated. Of course you can't, especially not in this state, but having a stranger take such a risk for you is not much better. This has nothing to do with her.<</if>> You feel your breathing ragged, your mind whirling. It's enough of it. Back home it was so silent, but here… //I can't take it anymore.// A burst of magic traverses through your veins, cold and numbing. You just need her to let go so, with what remaining energy you have left, you release it. Sparks of ice erupt from your fingers, staining your gloves. It feels electric too, like a spell out of control, like the jolt of pain that follows a badly conducted conjuring. Your skin pulses, your entire body feeling the aftereffects of it. But it doesn't matter because your goal is met, Miwa pulls back, staring at her hand. <<if hasVisited("2.2.3.2")>>You're free, free to open the door and run outside, leaving Miwa behind. Your breathing hitches and you feel your eyes sting, but surely that's just because of how much you have forced yourself today. It's just another day for a creature like you, you can never have otherwise.<</if>><<if hasVisited("2.2.3.3")>>You see Miwa open her mouth, but you push all sounds out of your head. Without giving her a moment to process it, you leave the house behind. She calls for you, she warns, but you don't let yourself hear it, understand it. What use is it? It's best if you're alone, it's easier, it's simpler when you're alone.<</if>><<if hasVisited("2.2.3.4")>>Finally, you open the door and run outside. You have no idea where you're going or if there is any point in running, but what else can you do? That little hope… it just keeps being reborn and dying shortly after.<</if>><<if hasVisited("2.2.3.5")>>Miwa's mouth opens, but you speak before she has a chance to. "Thank you for helping me this far, but I should go back home. The house will get lonely without me." That last phrase rings in your ears, that one father repeated often and now you tell it to yourself as you run out of the house. There's no place here for you, no place where you won't be a bother to others. That prison, that house, that is the place you belong.<</if>> [[Leave|2.outside]]

The streets are still bustling, though people have begun to slowly disperse. Miwa's soft coat is the only thing keeping them from staring for too long, from whispering when you quicken your pace around dark alleys. Soon, under the numbness that follows any outburst of emotion, the sun hides from view and you are left to stare at the moon from the small bridge that keeps you from water. It appears to be a park, it's small, desolate, there are barely any trees, any flowers, and only a single bench. It has been taken care of, you know because there are barely any leaves on the ground, because the wooden bridge has such a shiny polish and the pond is pristine, but it's in a dark, lonely corner, away from view, hidden by the shadows of the buildings beside it. Naturally, you have no idea where in Kawa you are and, quite honestly, trying to find out seems like more trouble than it's worth. You put your head in your hands, supported by the bridge's railing. Of course this would happen, the entire point of you being near Miwa was that she knew how to navigate the area. And now not only are you without allies, but you are completely lost and still inside Kawa. A sigh leaves you, your hand reaching for the mask. It feels so hot on the other side, for a moment, you wish you could reveal everything, this secret kept between the moon and you, no one else has to know. You can be yourself, just for this moment. That fogginess over your eyes, clouding your mind, maybe it'll leave the moment you open your eyes without your mask. Or maybe it's all a product of your exhaustion, hard to tell when your emotions are scrambled and your mind has forced most thoughts out of it. Fingers caress the worn mask that chips under your touch, the wisps of magic that linger on your fingertips after so much stress. Relief seeps into your skin when you touch it, as if taking it off could free you from every single one of your problems. Someone coughs behind you and just then you notice the bright light that has started to creep closer. You still, hand hovering over the mask. "Excuse me," that voice says, the sound so tired, the steps on the wooden bridge dragging, as if they can't bother to rush. "You shouldn't be out here right now." Should you turn to face them? Should you make up an excuse? You swallow, still mulling over it. "The Warlord has ordered for a curfew until the demon is captured," that man explains, letting out a sigh. He sounds… annoyed? But not suspicious. "Come on, I'll walk you home. I have to make sure you're not going to stay over here." You turn back slowly to stare at the young man. He wears a lazy smile as he waits for you to speak, his long black hair tied back but left to fall over his back. His clothes are so dark you can barely make them out, and you wonder if perhaps it's intentional to avoid unneeded attention. It's impossible not to be suspicious of his intentions, but at the same time, should you press for more information? You have already taken so many risks. [[Demo end|end]]