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“Kyouka, run!”
She jerks awake, curling automatically in on herself, arms coming up over her head as if they would stop a minion of the Great Evil. All the guards of her town couldn’t stop them, and she’s just one little girl, they’d eat her up in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, as her pulse stops pounding quite so hard in her ears, she’s able to better hear the sounds of the forest around her. Soft birdsong, the noise of small animals rustling through the underbrush, wind in the trees making some of them creak and groan. Familiar sounds, normal sounds, none of the deathly silence which had fallen as the Great Evil’s forces approached her home. She pushes herself up and crawls out from under the fallen tree she’d made into a rickety shelter last night, shivering slightly as she does her best to brush dirt and greenery off her dress. Some of the green has stained, and she bites her lip as she thinks of what Mom will say when she makes it back.
Her throat aches, and she pulls a small handful of slightly squished berries from her little pack as she starts walking. They’re not enough, sour-sweet and under-ripe, and when they’re gone she only feels hungrier, thirstier. Her head hurts, but she pushes on through the trees and underbrush. The road is this way, she knows it. She just has to keep headed the right direction, and she’ll be back on the road, and Mom and Dad will be able to find her. She reaches around to the bag slung across her back, feeling out familiar shapes through the well-worn leather. Mom’s rosin box, Dad’s tuning fork, her own little metronome they’d given her for her birthday. The memory already feels like it’s from a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been a few days.
Her stomach growls at her again, and she looks around for berry bushes or anything else edible. Nothing she can eat without starting a fire, and she’s not got anything to make a spark. Dad had the tinderbox and tent and stuff, Mom had the food. Her chest aches at the memory of all they had to leave behind, the wagon they didn’t have time to hitch a horse to loaded with clothes and heirlooms and instruments, her whole childhood packed and ready but left behind to burn with the only home she’d ever known. She sniffles, and reaches up to wipe her eyes but finds no tears. Had she really cried so much yesterday that she’s all out?
She sniffles again, and pulls her handkerchief from a pocket in her skirt. It’s filthy, but she blows her nose on it anyways. Mom hates it when she uses her sleeve, calls it unladylike. She stuffs the kerchief back in her pocket, and trudges on, listening intently for any unusual sounds. Water flowing, voices, the snap of a branch under a massive clawed foot. A twig breaks under her own heel, and she startles so badly she nearly trips over a root before regaining her senses. She snorts and shakes her head at herself, quickly regretting the motion as her head pounds harder and the world seems to spin.
It doesn’t settle, even when she leans against the tree, but soon enough she’s used to it. As used to it as once can be used to a dizzy spell, at least. She stumbles forwards, weaving slightly as she picks her way between old trees and thick stands of bushes, and her breath catches in her throat at a glimpse of bare earth up ahead. She pushes heedlessly through the shrubs and thorny knee-high brambles, and collapses to her knees when she breaks free of them on the edge of a road. It’s rutted and earthen, probably a few seasons past due for an elemental’s attention, but the ground is free of weeds and she sobs in relief as she collapses sideways, eyes burning for lack of tears to shed.
Now that she’s found the road, everything will be okay. Mom and Dad will find her, or she’ll find them, and things will be okay like Dad promised. Her eyes slide shut, and the darkness is a balm to her aching brain. She’ll just, rest a little first. Not a nap, she’s too old for naps, but with her eyes closed and one cheek pressed to the dirt the dizziness isn’t so bad. Just a minute, and she’ll get up. Just a minute...
---
“Kid? Hey, kid.” a hand shakes her shoulder, and Kyouka groans as she is forced into wakefulness by her pounding headache. Or, she tries to groan, but the sound seems to stick in her throat. The hand moves from her shoulder to her neck, and she blinks her eyes open to a few realisations in quick succession.
One, her pack is gone. Two, she’s been rolled onto her back. Three, there is a strange man leaning over her, with strange glasses pushed up into pale hair to reveal blood red eyes.
She screams, and when he jerks back she sits up as fast as she can, punching him square in the jaw. It hurts, a burst of pain across her knuckles, but she barely feels it as she scrambles to her feet. Her hand his a familiar strap as she pushes herself up, and she slings her bag onto her back as she bolts past him down the road.
“Hey, stop!” he shouts and she stumbles, her body freezing as his magic washes over her.
“No!” she yells back, and she’s moving again, legs shaky and throat burning. She has to get away, she can’t- her vision blacks out for a second and she stumbles again, her legs almost giving out under her. She doesn’t make it five more steps before he’s on her again, hands under her arms, lifting her off the road.
“Would you stop that?” he snaps, and she can’t help but go still as his magic fills her head. “Good. Yeesh, kid, you’d got a hell of a right hook.” he sets her down, and moves to crouch in front of her, hands on her shoulders. “Okay, now you’re gonna sit down and stay calm for a bit, okay?” he pushes gently on her shoulders, and she grimaces as she sinks to her knees, the ragged hem of her skirt puddling around her as she sits on her heels.
It’s a strange experience, knowing she should be afraid of this stranger in front of her but being unable to actually feel that fear. She’s felt charisma magic before, from Mom and the magistrate, but never anything like this, never an order. She tries to summon up her own magic, but it doesn’t come.
“Alright, alright.” the man mutters to himself, smoothing a hand back over his styled up hair as he stands and fumbles with one of the bottles on his belt. “It’s just a kid, just a-” he looks over at her, and a look crosses his face that makes her feel... calm. Whatever she was going to feel is washed away by his magic, like leaves off the roof in a heavy rain. “Dammit.” he mutters, and takes a swig from the waterskin before crouching back down and offering it to her. “Drink.”
She shakes her head, and he glares at her. “Don’t make me order you, brat.” he threatens, pushing the cool bag against her chest. She looks away, and he mutters something that’s more grumble than word. “Are you really gonna turn down water? Really?” he asks like he doesn’t expect an answer. She doesn’t give him one. “Great, fine, just-” he glances at her, his face twists up, and he goes quiet for a moment. “Just my luck to try helping someone who wants to die.”
“What?” she asks, her voice soft and hoarse.
“Kid, just, drink the damn water.” he sighs, bringing his other hand up to pinch his nose between his eyes. “You’re thirsty, right?”
“Dad said-”
“Drink.” his magic cuts her off mid-sentence, and she reaches for the waterskin. The water is blessedly cool, and when it’s lifted from her hands she makes an inarticulate sound of protest. “Better?” the stranger asks, and she grudgingly nods. Her throat and mouth are feeling better already, no longer quite so dry and tacky.
“Good. Now, eat these.” he produces a pear and a strip of jerky from his pack, and Kyouya’s stomach growls loudly, as if to remind her she’s had nothing but a few handfuls of berries since lunch the day before yesterday.
“Why?”
“Are you brain damaged, brat?” he scowls at her.
“Why are you helping me?” she reiterates, and the stranger seems taken aback.
“Because it’s the decent thing to do?” he blinks at her, and she wonders absently when he’d slid his glasses down. The coloured lenses make his eyes look almost normal. “Look, kid, I may not be the best person but I’m not heartless. Now do you want the food or not?”
She looks from the food to the stranger’s face a few times, then reaches out and snatches the food as quickly as she can. The jerky mostly fits in her mouth at once, and as she chews it the stranger laughs. “Thought so.” he sits back, leaning against his bag, and aims a weary grin at her. “So, brat, where’re ya going?”
She chews a bit more, and manages to swallow the whole piece at once after a few long seconds of silence. “The Capitol.” she answers, which is at least a little true. It’s away from the Great Evil, and Dad had mentioned a few times that their thick walls would make him feel safer. If she can’t find her parents on the road, she’ll certainly find them there.
“That’s a ways away.” the stranger raises one pale brow.
“Dad says it’s safer there.” she shrugs, taking a bite out of the pear. The stranger’s face falls, his expression changing to one of unmistakable pity, and something hot kindles low in her chest. “They’ll be there.” she insists, and he sighs.
“Sure, brat.”
“My name’s not brat.” she scowls at him, and almost crosses her arms before remembering her pear.
“Then what is it?”
“Jirou.” she lifts her chin, looking down her nose at him. “What’s yours?”
“Yamada.” he smiles, a weird smile but not condescending. “I’m headed the same way, actually. Whattaya say we walk together?”
Kyouka tenses, Mom’s warnings about strangers and older men ringing in her head, and Yamada sighs again. “Look, b- Jirou. Look, Jirou, you’re a kid. These roads aren’t safe for kids, and I doubt you’ve got enough supplies in that little bag to make it to the next town anyways.” he jerks his thumb down the road, and Kyouka looks at her feet. She can’t deny he’s got a point.
“So, walk with me, and I’ll make sure you get to the next town in one piece.” he offers, holding out his hand. “There’s always people leaving this area, nowadays. You can walk there with me, then grab a ride with some family and make it to the capitol with them.”
Kyouka looks at Yamada’s hand, then at his face, and shifts her pear to her other hand to reach out and shake his. “Deal.”
Mom and Dad wouldn’t like it, but when she found them again in the capitol she could probably just, not tell them about this part.
---
“So, kid.” Hizashi prodded the wrapped packets of their dinner in the fire, turning them over to heat evenly. “What’s your affinity?” he glanced up from the flames, and saw the girl sitting with her knees curled tight to her chest, eyes wary and trained on him. “C’mon, you already know mine’s charisma. Fair’s fair.” he cajoled. She didn’t move, or say anything. The only indication she was even awake was the slow blink of her eyes every so often. He sighed, and went back to poking at dinner. Three days on the road already, and he barely knew anything about the girl.
Her family name was Jirou, she was eight years old, and she loved music the way only someone raised in it could. She was also fiercely protective of her bag, refusing to so much as let him touch it when she was awake and curling around it in her sleep. He’d bet every coin in his purse that the contents weren’t even particularly valuable in a monetary sense, though. The Great Evil’s minions were spreading like a plague through these parts, and orphans were all too common where their presence was felt.
“You know I’m not gonna hurt you or anything, right?” he asked rhetorically. No reaction. He sighed, and looked back at their dinner. It was probably about done now. He picked up a second stick, and with both of them managed to lift the packets of food from the flames intact. Setting one down on the lid of his mess kit, he handed it to Jirou with the good pair of chopsticks. His own packet went in the plate, and after peeling it open with the spare chopsticks he pressed his hands together briefly, bowing his head. “Let’s eat!”
He grinned at Jirou, and his smile fell to find her already inhaling her food. Rude little brat. He rolled his eyes, and dug into his own meal. Too salty by half, but that was the way of road food, and he probably needed it after how much he’d sweated today. Jirou finished first, and he kept half an eye on her as she walked off towards the river with the lid and his waterskin. The trees soon obscured her, though, and he went back to his dinner. Rude, but she did pull her weight. Her parents had done a decent job on her, while they were still in this world.
His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill scream, and he shot to his feet, dropping his plate and the last of his dinner on the well-trodden ground that circled the fire ring. “Jirou?” he called, already pushing past the treeline.
“Stay back!” she screamed, and he staggered as he felt an unmistakable wave of charisma magic wash over him. Well, there was that question answered. He snapped the command with a spark of his own magic before he could skid fully to a stop, and pushed forwards again. Now that he was closer he could hear growling, and when he burst into the clearer area by the bank he cursed himself for not grabbing a weapon first.
“Hey!” he shouted, stooping to grab a hard clod of dirt and whipping it at the dire wolf’s shoulder. “Hey, you mangy mutt, over here!”
It turned towards him, and Hizashi saw the madness in its eyes. Yet another affliction of the Great Evil’s minions. It bared its teeth further in a snarl, and his eyes flicked to Jirou, pressed against a tree trunk and shaking like a leaf, but not bleeding. Good, one less thing to worry about. He returned his attention to the wolf, now stalking towards him, and grabbed the smallest of his instruments from where it rested in a pocket on the inside of his jacket.
The wolf lunged, and he dove to the side with a yelp. It turned, and he got a solid kick to its jaw before bringing the ocarina to his mouth and blowing as hard as he could. The wolf recoiled at the shrill sound, and he rolled to his feet to step towards it, taking a deep breath for his next note. A touch of magic brought the pitch even higher, past what he could hear, and distantly he heard Jirou cry out in pain but too much of him was focused on the ‘music’ to care.
His usual tricks involved making people want to stay, but reversing a spell wasn’t that terribly hard. Getting it into the head of a beast, though, that took more effort. Eye contact, incentive, make it want to obey. He took another step forward, leaning over the beast, and it turned tail with a yelp, running away downriver, back the way they’d come. He kept the note up another few seconds, until he ran out of breath, and when he lowered the ocarina he nearly collapsed to his knees.
There was still the kid, though. He tucked the ocarina back in its pocket, and turned to see Jirou with her hands pressed over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Damn, that note probably hadn’t been fun for her either. He sighed, and walked closer until he could crouch and rest a hand gently on her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, and she cracked an eye open cautiously.
“I think I peed myself.” she said, her voice smaller and younger than he’d ever heard it.
“Well then, good thing we’re already at the river, huh?” he gave her a grin, and almost did a double take when she returned a wobbly little smile of her own. “Wash up.” he said, standing and ruffling her hair. “We’ll talk back at camp.” she nodded, and he made it maybe three steps before an uncertain little noise made him pause.
“What if it comes back?” she asked, and Hizashi put on his most reassuring smile before looking over his shoulder.
“Then I’ll come running again. But don’t worry, that mutt was alone, and it’s not coming back to this area any time soon.”
Jirou nodded, and he sighed softly as he kept walking back along the faint trail left by previous users of this campsite. That was entirely too much animal related excitement for this late an hour, but at least the kid had said more than three words to him. Hell, she’d even smiled! He kicked the remainders of his fallen meal towards the edge of the campground, and brushed the crumbs left on his plate into the fire.
It wasn’t long before Jirou came back from the river, the hem of her dress wet and holding the dripping lid and waterskin in her hands. He gave her a smile, and she walked around the fire to silently hand him his things before returning to her seat on the opposite side of the fire ring. He busied himself for a moment reassembling the mess kit, but that could only buy so much time before he had to actually talk to the kid. For all that he made his living on his words, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to this discussion.
“Charisma.” Jirou broke the silence, and Hizashi looked up at her with a wordless sound of confusion. “My affinity. It’s charisma.”
“I kinda figured.” he chuckled, straightening up slightly. “But you’ve not had much training, have you?”
“No.” she muttered, her eyes fixed on the fire between them. “Mom and Dad wanted to wait until I was older, ‘cuz some of the spells are too strong to let me know until I’m grown up.”
“Mmm.” he nodded, framing his chin with two fingers as he considered it. The late Jirous did have a bit of a point, giving young children the power to manipulate others was a recipe for disaster, but they weren’t around anymore. And she did have an immense amount of power, enough to snap one of his commands like nothing back when they first met. She was still a bit young, but then again, she didn’t have anyone left to look out for her, and she was clearly more responsible than her peers. “What if I said I could teach you?” he offered, and her head shot up.
“What?”
“I could teach you, take you on as my apprentice until we hit the capitol.” he offered. “I’ve a few woodwinds in my pack that are easy enough to learn and don’t get much use as-is.”
“Actually, I- I do know how to play some instruments.” Jirou offered, “I’m best at shamisen, but I know the basics of other things too, and Mom always says I’m a quick learner.”
“That’s good, ‘cuz I don’t have a shamisen on me.” Hizashi chuckled, deciding not to press on her use of present tense regarding her parents. She’d come to terms with it eventually on her own. “But hey, if you can help out with my performances, I’ll take you all the way to the capitol myself.”
“Really?” her eyes shone with more than just firelight, and Hizashi swore internally. This was a massive mistake, he didn’t want to be solely responsible for someone else’s life and wellbeing, he’d never wanted kids for that exact reason. But that stupid face of hers... he pasted on his best smile, and stood to walk around the fire ring and hold out a hand to her.
“Yamada Hizashi.” he introduced himself properly. “I’m open to taking an apprentice.”
“Jirou Kyouka.” she took his hand, her grip firm. “I’ve always wanted to be a bard.”
Damn him for a fool, but he couldn’t say no to her face. Not when she’d lost nearly everything to the Great Evil and the suggestion had put a spark of hope back in her eyes. “I gotta warn you, it won’t be fun.” he said sternly. “Long hours, lots of walking, camping in all sorts of weather, and I’m not that great a teacher.”
“I won’t complain.” Jirou smiled, picking up her pack and hugging it to her chest.
“And this is strictly a temporary arrangement, y’hear? We get to the capitol together and then you’re on your own, ‘less you find another bard willing to teach you.”
“Mmhmm.” Jirous nodded, still wide-eyed and smiling. Hizashi sighed, and returned to his seat opposite hers.
“Get some rest, kid.” he told her, prodding at the remains of the fire with a stick. “We’re back on the road early tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sensei.”
“Sensei.” he muttered to himself once she’d gone and laid down, pack tucked tight as ever to her body. “What the hell, Hizashi.” he groaned, dropping his head into his hand. There was no way this was going to end well for either of them.
---
“Are you sure this is right?” Jirou frowned at him. He rolled his eyes.
“Yes, it’s alright.” he assured her, flicking her forehead. “Who’s the apprentice here, huh?”
“Me. But still.”
“Just remember, when you feel my magic, you go around with the bag and get their donations.”
“But why not wait ‘til the end?”
“Because when I’ve got them under my spell, they’re gonna be a lot more generous.” he tapped her on the nose. “C’mon, if we make enough here I’ll get you that shamisen we saw on display.”
“No you won’t.” Jirou scoffed, and Hizashi rolled his eyes again.
“Kid, last time the shamisen turned out to be a piece of shit. No apprentice of mine is using anything but the best, okay?”
“Yes, Sensei.” she said flatly, and he flicked her forehead again.
“What’s rule number one of being a bard?”
“Enthusiasm.” she replied, her voice perfectly flat and emotionless. He leveled a stern look at her for all of two seconds before she cracked, lifting a hand to her mouth as she giggled.
“Brat.” he flicked her a third time, and she hopped back towards her spot, holding the bag and smiling hopefully at passersby. Hizashi lifted his ryūteki to his mouth, and blew across the opening with just a touch of magic. A brush against the mind of anyone in earshot, a suggestion that they pause, take a moment, listen to the music yet to come. He held that first note for several seconds, eyes flicking over the slowly growing crowd, until there were enough people to reasonably expect a hefty payout.
He pressed a few fingers down slowly, one at a time, drawing the tone up to the first note of a familiar song. He inclined his head at a member of the crowd as he set into the melody, then another, then another, and soon most of the gathering was singing along. A thread of magic kept his music more prominent than their voices, though, and when he slid a little more magic in nobody noticed. Well, nobody but Jirou, who stepped forward with their money bag out and her dark eyes wide.
He couldn’t keep an eye on the collections and fill his audience’s heads with magic at the same time, but the steady clink clink of coins was a comforting sound as he lead them in song. Jirou was back at his side by the time the tune ended, and he finished with a flourish and bow. “Thank you, thank you.” he bowed some more as the audience began to applaud, Jirou mimicking him. “We’ll be here all day, and I do take requests.”
“Do you know The Tinker’s Wife?” someone called out, and Hizashi pointed into the crowd in their general direction.
“Yes I do! Five silver a song, folks, or your best offer.”
“Can I sing this one?” Jirou asked, and Hizashi pretended to consider it.
“Yeah, sure, just make sure you put some emphasis on the right words, yeah?”
“Will do.” she grinned up at him, and he ruffled her hair.
“I’ve not got my money purse on me, but I can give you and your apprentice a night’s stay at my inn for two songs.” a man stepped forwards, bull horns protruding from the sides of his head.
“That sounds like a downright steal, my good sir.” Hizashi grinned. Inns were good money, especially since the food and drink tended to be free if he played well and didn’t lay on the magical charm thick enough for anyone to notice.
“Play me the two longest songs you know.” the innkeeper said with a smile, and Hizashi laughed.
“The longest songs or the longest ballads?” he asked, and the bovine shifter nodded before seeming to realise that wasn’t a proper answer.
“Songs, please.”
“Excellent. One moment, I need something with a wider range.” he handed Jirou his ryūteki and hopped down off his stool to root through his bag. “Jirou, here.” he pulled out a small, slightly battered hand drum. “You know the percussion for this one, right?”
She nodded, and tucked the drum under one arm while she went to set up the money bag. He withdrew his guitar from his bag, popped the neck back in place, gave its strings a few quick plucks to check the tuning, and stepped back up on his stool with a wide smile. “Good folk of Moonford, I present, at request of-” he paused, and pointed at the innkeeper.
“Ueda.”
“At the request of Mr. Ueda, here’s Freebird.”