1 Work by knightingail
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Summary
The furthest her memory goes, is sudden existence, gently held in a calloused hand. She is a bow, carved and curved in an elegant sweep of deep lacquered bamboo, with exactly seven, glittering gold arrows tipped in obsidian black. Her bowstring is a vibrant red, and as her master pucks the edge of it with careful fingers, she feels, in some visceral, instinctual way, that she is to obey, protect—die for her master. With a whisper, she is pushed and pulled in a bright shine of light, and left blinking in disorientation as she discovers that she is standing, that she has feet, a body, a spirit, a name.
“Kichi,” her master says her name, hand outstretched and lips pulled into a soft, knowing smile. “You may call me Father.”
—In which Hiyori is pulled to the far shore, and bound to a master with a name.