As the River Flows

The sun hangs low over the mountain temple grounds of the Medoruma. Its remoteness from the rest of the world and the pervading sense of serenity always gave visitors the feeling that they were stepping into another realm when passing through the gates. In that sense, the Medourma were not unlike their home. They had been there for longer than anyone could remember and curious timelessness to them. Even the family's heiress was mistook by older visitors for her grandmother. For what seemed to be an eternity, they stayed on the mountain and dutifully cared for the shrines of their favored kami. The most revered of which was Benzaiten — goddess of all that flows.

A young woman kneels upon the wooden edging of her home before a diminutive potted wisteria tree. An eerie silence hangs over her that is only interrupted by the occasional sound of snipping. With a pair of shears in one hand, she delicately pinches and severs the branches that have overreached. Each carried with it a possibility, but it wouldn't do to let the plant's potential be misused. She could already see how beautiful it would become under her guidance.

"Shiori," comes the voice of an older man as a door slides open. Her father was a well-built and capable man even as he grew further from his prime. To take his greying as a sign of weakness would be a mistake, as he'd only grown more unflinching in his convictions with age. Yet, worry clouds his eyes.

"They approached again, yes? Did you tell them my decision?" Her tone betrays nothing of her inner thoughts and she doesn't look away from her work to reveal whatever emotion might be playing out on her face.

Her father's brow furrows, eyes harden, and lips turn downward. Practitioners of Magecraft from the West would have little to do with a family like the Medoruma until it benefited them to meddle in their affairs. So, it was to no one's surprise when a representative came to offer a place in their Clock Tower's Department of Astromancy. It was through thinly veiled disdain that they extended the invitation, and with honest contempt that they were rejected.

Perhaps they might have something to teach his daughter, but it would be tantamount to sending her away to a den of particularly well-spoken snakes. She might never emerge and would not do so unmolested if she did. The matter hadn't even been discussed between them the first time they came. But, in further visits, they made it clear that there was danger in refusing their invitation. A price would need to be paid, one way or another.

"Are you certain this is the best path? Not for the clan, but for you."

"I shouldn't come into any direct danger. All I need to do is support their candidate."

"But if you do? This won't be a simple matter, and you may have to deal with swine worse than those of the Association."

Shiori sets down her shears as she turns toward the great river that the temple overlooks. For a realm that seemed stuck in time, it was a source of constant movement.

"Their War will happen with or without my involvement, but I might find a better path there than in the Association's clutches. To create that path...I will do what I must."

She stands and turns to her father, looking into his eyes through the cloth that covers hers. Her fingers grope at his features, feeling the scar on his cheek, tracing their way around his deep-set eyes, and tapping on his lips. Shiori's hands gradually come to rest around his neck, hanging off her father as she lays her head against his chest.

"Whatever happens, know that it's all for our future."

Edit Report
Pub: 08 Dec 2023 21:18 UTC
Edit: 08 Dec 2023 22:34 UTC
Views: 253