I: Spark of the Innocent
It was the early days of spring in the village of Hitaka. Nia had never seen it so busy. According to her parents, each year the villagers decided to flock to the streets, both to set up storefronts, visit them and just as many out simply to enjoy the sun. Though, how one could do so in such a bustling setting was a mystery to Nia. As she walked through the main street she apologized constantly to the adults who hurried about her, bumping into their sides as she navigated the crowd. She’d avoid one collision just to be met with another.
Being only nine years old, she didn’t get any apologies in return, only fleeting looks of annoyance. She imagined most of them thought of her as some thief after the coin purses hidden away behind the folds of their kimonos. One fellow she bumped into must’ve thought she was after his bundle of flowers, his scowl particularly fierce. Nia didn’t let it get to her.
While a majority of the merchants peddled small meals of rice and spiced meats, some made use of those plants that bloomed early, advertising wreaths of bright flowers, wide smiles and warm voices. Such stalls drew the attention of young men and women alike, eager to impress one another. Nia’s mother told her she was too young to understand such things on numerous occasions. Nia didn’t think so. As it was, Nia was on her way to meet with her father by the riverside with the hopes of impressing him.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be angry that she was late. She’d slept in and, coupled with the crowds, Nia prepared herself for a lecture. After cutting through the common room of a tavern, earning herself a yell from a fellow with too much hair but too few teeth, she found a more easily travelled street and in short time found herself running under the shade of cherry blossoms. On this path, where most folk had vacated the pleasant scenery to visit the festivities, the quiet allowed the soft sounds of running water to fill the air. In a small clearing by the water’s edge, well-worn stone steps leading down like some fantastical invitation to another world, was Nia’s father.
He could be intimidating without trying, his eyes always set to a fierce scrutinous gaze while his long hair and short beard made him seem like some well-kept noble, but for now his expression was soft and gentle. The large man, dressed in simple, clean clothes, regarded the forest across the river, probably lost in how the light fell on the leaves and cast calm patterns amidst the loose shadows. He often tried to get her to “slow down, appreciate the beauty of the moment” but to Nia that didn’t make much sense. In that kind of scene, she’d rather play.
“You’re late,” he said as he turned.
Nia bowed, and expressed how sorry she was. Her father levelled his eyes on her and after a moment returned the bow. His was far more practiced.
From the folds of his heavy sleeves he produced a wooden training sword. Its size wasn’t that of an adults, when her father did this, it always peeved Nia as it meant one thing; training. “We’ll be continuing our last lesson, seeing as you insisted on ending it early to go watch the parade,” her father said evenly, his mood either calm or disappointed. He could be a difficult person to read sometimes.
It was true, Nia had wanted to go see the parade, honestly she wanted to do anything instead of training to be a fighter like her father used to be. Though they moved here just over a year ago and he became a farmer, he seemed relentless in making Nia participate in the ways of his military past.
Nia sighed as she took the sword from his calloused hands, he collected his own training weapon leaned against an old tree stump. His back turned, Nia saw an opportunity. She rushed him and swung her blade, eager to make the moment less tedious. Her arms were strong, the blow swift. Like coiled serpent, he snapped around and in the same motion he brought down his training blade and met Nia’s head on.
“We are not thieves. Nor are we thugs. We do not strike our foe when their back is turned,” Nia’s father scolded, his voice like a gale. He lowered his wooden blade but kept his gaze a judgmental one.
“Why?” was all Nia could think to ask. It made sense to strike when your opponent was vulnerable.
He sighed and let his expression soften as he answered with, “You are young. Someday you’ll understand better. But know this; to wield a weapon is to wield the power of life and death, yours and your enemy’s, and that is no small responsibility. It isn’t a power to be wielded lightly.”
Responsibility was the furthest thing from her mind and despite her father’s tone and warm look, Nia couldn’t help but feel she was in trouble. His move of slapping away the playful jab coupled with his hard words had her think he was still angry and chose only to be calm so the lesson could continue without interruption. That made sense. Once, she’d seen him fly into a rage at some woman who’d come to visit one day. She had been beautiful, like most of the people in this kingdom, and from what words Nia caught her say she was polite and by all accounts an ideal to aspire towards. Regardless, he’d yelled at her and ran her off, saying something about how she and “her kind” should leave his family alone. Nia had been afraid of him that day. It was a sudden and uncharacteristic burst of anger she’d never seen before. Was this a similar occasion?
“I’m sorry,” Nia began to whimper. Her father knelt in front of her and placed one hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to yell,” he said in a slow, calm voice. “Honour means a lot to me and, if I raise you correctly, it will to you too. Honour isn’t just about how we conduct ourselves in front of others.” He moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek and thumbed away a tear Nia hadn’t realised she’d produced. “It’s about holding yourself to a standard, not for glory, personal gain or so you can strut around like some plucky cockerel, but so we live in a way that allows us to be the best we can for those we love and keep them safe”
“I don’t get it,” Nia sniffled.
The big man smiled. “No, I don’t expect you to. In time, you will. For the moment, just know that this family, Clan Ryumei, fights the enemy head on. No tricks or cruelty. Can you remember that for me?”
Nia nodded.
“Good. Shall we continue?”
Calm once more, Nia felt her fear subside.
They began to go through the motions of what Nia believed to be the most boring form of dance on earth. Out of respect for her father, she did her best to focus on what he told her. But she couldn’t help it. Training was boring, this time especially. She picked up pace to entertain herself, which her father easily kept up with. After the two exchanged blows until Nia noticed her father starting to tire, she signaled a time out. Her father accepted and turned around to sit his sword against the tree, Nia jumped like lightning towards the now defenceless man and struck his back.
Her father hunched over as he let out a cry of pain. He looked like one of those performers she’d seen entertain other children in the village but far funnier. As her father turned around, any humour Nia had was squashed beneath the fierce look she received from her father, scrunched and furious.
“NIA!” he barked. It jolted through her and she turned and ran, her weapon abandoned as she fled the perceived danger.
Her feet carried her back through the bustling crowds and busy streets, beyond them towards the gardens that local nobles took great pride in, and even further still until she was in the shade of the bamboo forest that surrounded her home. The two-storey house, removed some ways from the town, had its verandas being tended to by Nia’s mother, her sweeping interrupted as Nia raced up the gravel pathway to the front door.
“Nia? What’s the matter?” her mother asked with concern.
The question went unanswered as Nia slammed the door behind her, raced past her two younger brothers who regarded her with curious but dumbfounded expressions, and sealed herself in her room. The comfort it provided her could not be overstated. Nia buried herself in the sheets of her bed and sobbed softly.
A small knock on her bedroom door preceded her mother repeating the question she’d asked outside. When Nia didn’t immediately answer the woman began to open the door. Hiding from the confrontation, Nia burried herself even deeper into the pile of bedsheets she’d made for herself, like a mouse in its nest.
It made whatever her mother said difficult to hear, nothing but a string of muffled noises with trace notes of tenderness. Perhaps a minute passed and again Nia was alone, the door once more shut, and a private silence returned to her chamber. In that quiet she remained for some time, crying and afraid, until she felt the gentle touch of calm soothe her heart. It was a short-lived calm.
A heavy knock, the signature of Nia’s father, echoed on the doorframe. His voice was louder than her mother’s and cut through barriers with relative ease.
“Nia, will you come out?” he said calmly and with concern. “I’m not angry. I just want to talk, if you’ll come out?”
Nia left the confines of her bed but not to open the door or to speak with him. She crept ever so carefully to the window and with the stealth of a cat, fled the house altogether. She was set on finding somewhere she could actually be alone to do what she wanted. Sitting through another lecture, didn’t feel like a good way to spend a fine day.
Finding a place to play in the sun was easy. All Nia had done was slink between the tall bamboo stalks and wander uphill into an area she kept secret from everyone. Well, she hoped it was a secret, it was too wonderful to let anyone else know about. Large stones covered with patches of moss turned the forest into a veritable playground of possibilities. Some were taller than a full grown man and joined by bridges of bamboo that Nia had put together over time. It wasn’t like basic playgrounds at the schools her parents made her go to. This was her kingdom and theatre, a place of play and imagination unbound. Here she could be a warrior, a princess, a bird, or anything else she decided she wanted to be. Nia conjured one such scenario in her mind and put the thoughts of the failed training session behind her. After all, her father had always insisted he wanted her to be active, and jumping, running, and sneaking between boulders was as good a form of exercise as any.
And so she did, though the façade of training was abandoned and instead imagination took a hold of her. This playground was no mere set of stones but a field of fantasy that brought her soul joy. Before long, fatigue took hold of her, having utterly spent her energy. With her eyes to the sky Nia entered a shallow but blissful rest.
When she woke, she feared she’d slept deep into the night, for stars twinkled overhead and a choir of crickets filled the air. However, it can’t have been too late because the orange glow of the sunset was still low in the sky. Nia stood, brushed herself off, covered in dirt and leaves from the number of times she fumbled a jump, and turned to return home.
Something caught her eye as she mentally prepared to face her parents. It wasn’t a sunset that added a fierce orange hue to the night. It was a fire. As she got closer to it she could see a tower of smoke billowing into the air, embers darting in and out of the dark column like fireflies. A pit formed in her stomach as she raced back home.
Nia emerged from between the tall stalks to see a horror she couldn’t look away from. Her home was an inferno. Like a giant coil of maddened serpents, the flames engulfed everything, from the foundations to the top of the roof. It didn’t make sense to Nia, as if she were in a nightmare. Her horrified awe was ripped away when she heard a terrible noise. There was a scream, inhuman and pained.
She instinctively ran to where the front door used to be, just in time to see a small humanoid shape fall towards the exit, the roof collapsing down upon the shape. Embers and smoke disguised the figure, making them unidentifiable... was it one of her brothers? She couldn't tell. In her panic, her eyes darted around the scene, catching a glint on the ground before her home, she looked hard through smoke to recognise her family blade. Its name escaped her in that moment, grief and panic breaking her with every second that passed, but all that came to her was its importance. The heat beat against her as she approached to collect the weapon, the only thing that remained of her family. Her tears evaporated, burned away like the ones she loved.
Nia ran. All she could do was flee the pain and let her legs carry her far away into the night. How long she ran was of no consequence, only that she ran from that fire, but just as the flames had burned into the flesh of her family so too did the image of their destruction burn into her mind, forever a part of her.
On some beaten road far from any landmarks she knew, she stopped at the sight of lanterns and some shadowy figures, one of them offered her their hand.
“Where are your parents, child?” the man asked, his voice as soft as his eyes were kind. Behind him was a handful of other men and women riding in wagons, each bearing similar clothing.
To answer the stranger’s question, all Nia could do was cry in the stranger's embrace. Fire and death was all she could remember of her family now.
