Chapter Text
“Shoo,” Hajime says, gingerly nudging a chicken aside with his foot. Lord, but he hates having to feed them. “The feed’s over there, go on.”
The chicken bumps into one of her fellows, and is instantly pulled into the mad scramble for the grain Hajime’s scattered. He snorts, watching her try to flap her way to the front, and bends to pick up the egg she left behind. His basket is almost full, a comfortable weight on his arm. They’ll be having eggs with every meal for a week, and his mother will have enough to sell to bring in some extra money.
Nice of the hens to be so generous, he thinks absently as he goes to fetch another egg lying near the wooden fence enclosing their yard. It hadn’t been a kind winter - there’s still a cruel nip in the air, this late in the year - and this will go a fair way to keeping them warm until it’s proper summer.
There’s a rustle as he crouches to pick up the egg. His head snaps up, and he sweeps his gaze across the woods beyond the fence, instantly alert. They’d lost a quarter of their chickens to a fox two years ago, and can’t possibly afford to do so again. He catches sight of a flash of colour, a dull brown-red in the grass by a tree, and clicks his tongue in irritation.
“Hey!” he yells, groping for a stone with his free hand. “Get out, you’re not gettin’ any of them this time!”
Brown eyes peer fearfully around the tree trunk - but about four feet higher than he expected, and he drops the stone in surprise.
It’s a boy?
The eyes vanish, and there’s the sound of rustling footsteps receding fast, like the boy is hurrying to leave.
“Wait -” Hajime sets the basket aside and scrambles over the fence. “Hey, sorry about that!”
He knows these woods like the back of his hand, and the boy isn’t half as fast as Hajime is - he’s either very slow, or injured, or has little energy to spare. It’s not hard to catch up. When the boy realises how close Hajime is, he stumbles sideways to cower back against the nearest tree, face downcast and breath uneven. His dull red yukata is ragged and dirty and too small for his large frame. His hair is an unusual colour, a dark chestnut brown, tangled and messy. He’s scratched everywhere, and a couple of wounds are deep enough that they’re bleeding sluggishly. His eyes and nose are red, his cheeks tear-streaked.
“Uh, sorry,” Hajime says uncertainly, looking him up and down. “I thought you were a fox, and we have chickens, that’s why I yelled . . . I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The boy says nothing, staring at his feet like a dog waiting to be beaten.
“Are you from around here?” Hajime asks, propping a hand on his hip and trying to sound bracing. “I’ve never seen you before.”
The boy shakes his head once.
“I figured. You lost?”
A nod this time, slow and hesitant.
“Looks like you fell or something, too, you look pretty beat up. It ain’t like you’re the first to show up though, with the war that’s going on . . . What’s your name?”
“It’s - it’s A-Asahi.” His voice is almost too soft to hear.
“What’s your family name?”
The look the boy gives him is one of terrified incomprehension. Hajime frowns a little, wondering if he’s been abandoned by his family, or just doesn’t remember who they are.
“Okay, forget it. You want to come in and have some tea or something? You look hungry.”
Asahi’s mouth parts a little, want and fear warring clearly in his eyes. Pity stirs in Hajime’s chest, and he tries to sound a little gentler, holding out an inviting hand.
“Don’t be scared. The war’s hurt everybody, and my Ma says it’s our duty to help however we can. We can afford to give you a meal. And if you need help looking for your people, we can maybe help with that too. Come on.”
Asahi looks between Hajime’s face and his hand for a long, long moment, and then slowly places his own palm in Hajime’s. His hand is warm and rough, his fingers trembling slightly.
Hajime grins at him, and leads him back to the yard. He helps him over the fence and picks up the basket of eggs, setting it on his hip as they enter the house.
“Ma!” he yells, cupping a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Ma! You busy?”
“What do you think, Hajime?” She sticks her head out of the kitchen, scowling. Strands of hair are stuck to her sweaty forehead. “I have to get ready for the evening crowd - we’re a couple barrels short of liquor and the bastard merchant who sold them to me is probably laughing his ass off right now, I need to get food ready and then go and wring his neck. You better have a good reason for -”
She catches sight of Asahi shrinking behind Hajime, and sighs without much surprise. “Picked up a stray?”
Hajime shrugs. “He’s hungry, Ma. Lost in the woods.”
“Probably the damn war, huh, kid?” she says, sharp eyes softening for a moment. “You can get him something from the storeroom, but I can’t house him. You know that.”
Haime scowls, looking away. “I know.”
“You take him to Crow House. Ukai has more than enough money to house one more waif, the gods know.”
“You don’t need me here for the evening?”
“Ryuu-kun’s coming in to help, I’ll be fine,” she says, coming to take the basket from him. “Make sure he gets a bath and some new clothes, you hear me?”
“What do you want me to do, stitch him something fancy?” Hajime says indignantly, but she’s already gone back inside. Grumbling to himself, he sends Asahi to wash off in the barrel of water outside while he grabs a decent meal and sets it out on the tiny low table he and his mother use.
“All yours,” he says, sitting down and propping his chin in one hand.
“Thank you,” Asahi says in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, kneeling across from him and gingerly picking up the chopsticks. He still has a few drops of water on his face, and he hasn’t done a very good job of getting the grime off, but his hands are perfectly clean. “You - you will not eat?”
You’re asking me, when you’re half dead from hunger? Hajime thinks, and he can’t help smiling a little. “We eat early, before evening customers come in,” he says. “So I’m done for the day. Thanks, though.”
He doesn’t know if it’s lingering trauma from whatever left him wandering in the woods, or that he just happens to be a nervous person and doesn’t like Hajime watching him while he eats, but Asahi fumbles terribly with the chopsticks and says almost nothing as he eats. When Hajime asks about his family, his home, or how he got lost, all he gets in return is a silent shake of the head. Hajime gives up soon enough, figuring it isn’t really his place to pry, and lets him eat in silence; though he has to muffle a laugh when Asahi gives up and stabs a shrimp with his chopsticks after dropping it thrice.
He starts to clear the dishes away as soon as Asahi is done, saying “We’ll go to Crow House now, you can stay there until you find your parents. Give me a second to put these away and I’ll be right out.”
“Ah -” Asahi reaches out with an uncertain hand. “Um -”
“Yeah?”
“Y-your name is Hajime?”
Hajime blinks, then grins. “Damn, I never introduced myself, did I? I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”
Asahis mouth opens, closes, opens again in uncertainty. “So - so I call you -?” Hajime tilts his head, wondering just exactly where this kid came from. Did he grow up in the forest or something? “Hajime is fine, I guess, since I’m calling you by your first name.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoes. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Asahi follows him to the kitchen as he puts the dishes away though, and through the whole house and the space for patrons in front, and then trails behind him as they begin to walk south.
“You see those hills?” Hajime says over his shoulder, pointing down the path to where three tiny hills lie together, darkening as the sun sets. “Over those is the sea. Crow House is built into the side of the middle one.”
“What is Crow House?”
“There’s this old guy called Ukai, he’s rich as hell. He used to be chief of the village. He built a huge house, but no one lived there except him and his grandson, so when the first border war happened he started taking in all the people who had nowhere else to go and letting them stay there for as long as they like. It’s been twenty years since then, and he never stopped. Most people leave once they have food in their bellies and clothes on their backs, but a few live there with him.”
“Um, do I need to - to pay him?”
Hajime stops, and Asahi cringes when he looks at him. “You got any money?”
“N-no . . . ”
Hajime shrugs, and waits for Asahi to reach his side this time before walking again. “Not a problem. It’s customary to give him what you can for what he does, but he ain’t one to demand anything. He’s the one choosing to open his doors to you, it ain’t generosity if there’s a price. But he told me once, you know, that this village doesn’t have beggars and never will.” He can’t help puffing out his chest a little. “My Ma, she gave you a hot meal because she’s good like that and she’d never expect money either, but here we pay our debts and earn what we eat. You hear? So if you’re going to stay, you better find something you can turn your hand to.”
Asahi says nothing. It’s only when Hajime looks at him that he realises that his lip is trembling, and tears are starting to spill down his cheeks.
“Hey,” he says, uncomfortably. “Damn, I didn’t mean to - come on, don’t cry -”
Asahi sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and Hajime pats his shoulder gingerly. “Listen, I, uh, didn’t mean to scare you. Um - there’s actually - the blacksmith is taking on apprentices, I’m reporting to her tomorrow morning. I’m sure she could take you too, if you asked politely.”
He’s honestly not sure how persuasive Asahi can be, given his evident timidity, but Saeko-san has a good heart under the bluster, and he’s fairly certain she won’t refuse to take him, especially since he seems to be growing into a fairly big body.
“Thank you,” Asahi says, voice wavering, scrubbing at his face with one palm. “A-and thank you for taking me to the - the Crow House, and for the food, and -”
“Okay, okay, yes, don’t mention it,” Hajime says gruffly, embarrassed. “Let’s walk a bit faster, I want to make it before nightfall.”
It’s another good quarter of an hour before they reach the bottom of the hill, and another ten minutes before they climb up to the house itself. Asahi is panting more than Hajime thinks he maybe should be, but he takes a moment even in his exhaustion to gape at the palatial building. It’s raised off the ground on short stone pillars, its grounds overflowing with trees and shrubs that will flower beautifully in the season. The entrance is hidden by a massive red curtain with Ukai’s family crest stitched into the middle in black, flanked by two large wooden posts that support an arch that mimics the roof. The roof itself is gently curved and richly ornamented, gleaming red even in the faint light. A lovely, massive veranda wraps around the whole thing, and it extends far enough that there must be five rooms on either side that open onto it. The house has two stories, and through every window they can see the warm glow of lanterns.
“It’s huge,” Asahi says, hushed and awed. Hajime gives him a grin before knocking on one of the posts, calling “It’s Iwaizumi! Can we enter?”
There’s the low rumble of Ukai-jiisan’s voice, and then the padding of footsteps. The curtain is pulled half aside, and Daichi grins at Hajime, dimple dancing in one cheek. “Your mom chase you out?”
“Shut up,” Hajime says, but his mouth twitches up anyway. “Brought you a stray.”
“Oh?” Daichi peers around Hajime to look at Asahi, and his eyes go warm and kind. “Come right in.”
Hajime comes over to Crow House often to drag Daichi with him down to the beach or into the flower fields to play, but the admiration he feels for this place never fades. He and Asahi follow Daichi down the polished corridors and past an open screen door to where Ukai-jiisan, his grandson, and Yacchan are sitting, evidently just finishing their evening meal. She smiles at him shyly, and he smiles back before turning to Ukai-jiisan.
“Good evening,” Hajime says, bowing, and Asahi hastily bows with him. “We’re sorry to interrupt your meal.”
“We’re used to it by now, brat,” the old man says, sniffing disparagingly. “Why have you come? No sense of duty to your mother?”
Keishin-nii snorts, and Yacchan giggles into her bowl. Hajime scowls briefly at them both.
“She sent me, sir,” he says, and gestures at Asahi. “He was lost in the woods behind the house. She said to bring him here.”
Ukai’s piercing eyes settle on Asahi, who takes a step back.
“Come here, child,” he says, more gently. Asahi looks at Hajime nervously. Hajime nods in encouragement, and Asahi goes to kneel by Ukai-jiisan, wincing out of reflex when he turns his arms so his forearms face upwards. A respectful silence falls over the room as Ukai-jiisan works his way upwards, gently prodding his muscle and skimming over his skin and probably noting every single scratch, if Hajime knows him at all.
“Not pretty,” Ukai-jiisan murmurs, almost to himself as he runs a finger over a patch of dried blood from a scratch on Asahi’s neck. “You want to stay with us, boy?”
Hajime thinks Asahi will bolt for a split second, with Ukai-jiisan’s keen gaze on him and his long fingers firm on his wrist as the question hangs heavy in the air, and he honestly wouldn’t blame him. But then Asahi whispers, “Yes, sir,” and Ukai-jiisan smiles slightly, and Hajime breathes a sigh of relief. “Right, then. Keishin, you arrange for his room - he can have Ryuu’s. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s no need for ‘sir’, ojiisan is fine. Hitoka -” Yacchan looks up quickly. “- you take him outside, show him where he can bathe, and tell him the rules of this house.”
Daichi speaks up, his eyes on the nervous twisting of Yacchan’s fingers. “Ojiisan, I can -”
“You can find him something decent to wear, and lay it out for him. Stay close by the spring, so he can call for you if he needs you. Your name, boy?”
“Asahi, sir - um, o-ojiisan.”
“Asahi, this is Sawamura Daichi, that’s Yachi Hitoka, and this is my grandson, Ukai Keishin. They will tell you how they wish you to address them. Go bathe - those wounds of yours should be washed out properly, with hot water - wear something warm, and get a night’s rest. You certainly look like you need it.” He squeezes Asahi’s hands lightly before allowing them to drop, and places a brief hand on his head. “Welcome to Crow House.”
He nods to Yacchan, who is standing to the side with downcast eyes. Asahi trips over his feet hurrying to her, and casts a last apprehensive look in Hajime’s direction before following her out.
“Hope he knows how to bathe,” Hajime mutters, and Daichi gives him a frowning look.
“He’s not that dirty, don’t be rude.”
“Not that, it’s -” Ukai-jiisan’s gaze is on him, he realises, and he shuffles his feet awkwardly. “He had trouble with chopsticks. And he didn’t know how to address me. I don’t know, he’s odd.”
“War children have troubles you don’t know of,” Keishin-nii says, gathering up the dishes and placing them on a tray. “I assume that is what he is?”
Hajime shrugs. “He won’t say, but I think so. He was lost, at any rate, and if his parents are still alive he doesn’t seem to have a clue where to find them.”
“Don’t ask him anything, either of you,” Ukai-jiisan says, stern once more. “Let him grow comfortable here, and he will speak in his own time, or he will not. It is his choice. You hear me, boys?”
“Yes, ojiisan,” they mutter.
“Go get him some clothes then, Daichi.” Daichi sighs and gives Hajime a pat on the shoulder before leaving to do as he’s been told. “And you, Iwaizumi, be off home. It’s getting late.”
“Ojiisan, I wanted to ask - I told Asahi that Saeko-san would likely take him on as an apprentice too, if he wanted it, but I’m not really sure if she’ll do it. I mean -”
“What, a big boy like him? She’ll only be too pleased.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but she was telling me how lucky I was that she even considered taking me on, and her forge is still small -”
“She’ll take him,” Ukai-jiisan says, smiling like a shark. “Don’t worry your head about that, boy. You’ll see him at the forge tomorrow morning.”
“Right,” Hajime says, exchanging a look with Keishin-nii. “I’ll be going then. Good night.”
“Night, Hajime,” Keishin-nii says, picking up the tray with a clatter. “Tell your mother I’ll drop by with the catch tomorrow morning, yeah?”
“Sure, Kei-nii. Excuse me.”
He backs out of the room bowing, and huffs out a long breath when he steps into the night air. Ukai-jiisan is good and kind, but he can be terrifying, and Asahi doesn’t seem like a particularly courageous person.
He just hopes he can make it through a week without breaking down - or running away.
⸶⸷
Asahi follows the girl - Yacchan? Hitoka? - through a confusing series of corridors that all look the same. She’s much smaller than him, maybe a year or two younger, and her hair is a pale colour he’s never seen on a human before. Suga’s hair had looked similar, but -
He shakes his head, fighting the rising tears back for what feels like the tenth time that day, the hundredth time that week. He can’t break down now, not in front of her. He has a place to stay, and food to eat, and people who seem to be kind - at least for the present. It’s the best situation he’s been in since he - well, since he lost his family, and he can’t afford to arouse any suspicion. Crying would lead to questions he wouldn’t be able to answer; he can’t give them the truth, and he doesn’t know enough about land-dwellers to lie convincingly.
The war is a very convenient excuse for his situation, though, he’s lucky that it’s happening right now. And given how often they’d mentioned it, a few tears now and then hopefully shouldn’t be particularly suspicious. He’d seen it in the distance when he was walking inland, heard the cries and shouts and smelt the blood. He’d run as soon as he realised what it was, and hadn’t stopped running for half a day. All because some fat lords wanted more land to rule, and they had soldiers to spare -
“A-Asahi?” the girl’s quavering voice says. “The - the bath is right through here.”
She slides a door open, and they step into a courtyard, where a small pond is steaming in the chilly air.
“You, um, wash yourself off with the water from there -” She gestures to a tub of water off to the side. “And when you’re clean you can sit in the hot water for as long as you want.”
“T-thank you,” he mumbles, wondering if he’s supposed to disrobe while she’s still there. Don’t humans have a lot of formal rules about the differences between males and females and times when clothes are not only appropriate but necessary? Will he be thrown out if he makes a mistake here? Can he ask her?
“Um,” she says, biting her lip fiercely and looking everywhere but his face. “Um, can I ask- you don’t have to say if you don’t want to, but - was it - did you lose your family to - to the war?”
“Um, something like that,” he murmurs. “I - I would rather not -”
“Oh, of course, I’m so sorry,” she exclaims. “I shouldn’t have - I didn’t mean -”
She lapses into red-faced silence, looking guilty enough that he feels a little sorry for her.
“By what name do I call you?” he says softly, hesitantly, and she darts a look at him.
“M-my name is Hitoka, but most people call me Yacchan. Um, either one is fine.”
“What do you prefer?”
The looks she gives him is longer this time, with a shy hint of a smile. “Yacchan is - is cute and short, and I do like it, but it - it would be nice if someone called me Hitoka. I, um, haven’t heard it in a while. And if I’m calling you Asahi, then . . .”
“Hitoka, then,” he says, managing to smile back. “Um, Ukai-ojiisan mentioned some rules . . . ?”
“Oh, yes. Um, number one is don’t make the house dirty. He really loves it - he built most of it himself, actually. So - so you have to bathe every day, and wash your futon and clothes often and keep them clean, and be careful not to get mud inside, and if you break something or tear one of the paper walls you have to tell him immediately. He might be a little angry, but never for long, and he’ll show you how to fix it. Number two is be on time for meals and help cook them if you’re asked to. Number three is you have to learn to do something that’ll let you earn a living. Keishin-nii is the best fisherman in the village, and Daichi-nii helps Iwa-nii’s mom out at the tavern and fishes with Keishin-nii in the season, and Ukai-ojiisan is teaching me to write.” She makes a flowy gesture with one hand. “With ink and brushes, you know? Not a lot of people can do it.”
“Oh, I see. Um, H-Hajime told me I should go to the forge tomorrow, because the blacksmith might take me on as an apprentice?”
“Oh, that’s perfect! I’m sure Saeko-san will take you. She and her younger brother used to live here too, you know? You’ll have his old room, actually. They’re both really nice - kinda loud, but really nice!”
“I’m glad to hear that. I - I think I don’t do well with - with harsh people, and rude people.” He’d met more than enough of them, people who snapped for him to get out of their way on busy streets or scolded him for the state of his clothes or chased him away from their houses when he’d had to resort to begging.
She nods earnestly. “I know, I hate those kinds of people too. They just have to glare at me and I get a scared squirmy feeling in my stomach. I thought Ukai-ojiisan and Keishin-nii were like that when I came here because Ukai-ojiisan yells at him a lot and he yells back. But they actually really care about each other, and Daichi-nii too. When I’m upset or scared, I can go to any of them and they’ll talk to me for as long as I need until I calm down.”
“That does sound nice. Um, how long have you been here?”
Her face falls a little. “Some - some weeks now, not too long. Daichi-nii has been here for four years.”
“Was - was it the war for you both?”
She shrinks a little more, her fingers tight on the edge of her sleeves. “It - it was for me. I don’t know about him. No one knows except Ukai-jiisan and Keishin-nii . . . Well, um, those are the three rules - cleanliness, punctuality, and learning a trade. We help out around the house and in the village if we’re asked to, too. You can go ahead with your bath, um, it looks like you really need to wash that blood off. Daichi-nii’ll be here soon, so I’ll -”
“Wait -” he says, remorseful, as she backs away. “I’m sorry to - I did not mean to -”
Her smile is faint. “It’s all right, it’s not your fault for asking. I asked you too. It’s just - still a little hard for me to talk about. I’ll - I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“Oh . . . sure. Um, good night.”
“Good night.”
He waits for a minute after the door closes behind her before stripping and quickly washing off, thankful to be rid of the dirty yukata. The water is steaming hot, and he hops out with a yelp at first, but he manages to get used to it in a few minutes. He ducks his face underwater, squeezing his eyes shut against the heat, and hugs his knees tight as the tears finally escape. It’s partly relief at having found a safe place, but mostly aching longing for home and cold, paralyzing fear that he will never be able to find it again.
Because it’s been more than two weeks, now. He’s nearly starved, he’s wandered half the countryside, he’s searched and sobbed and begged the uncaring blue of the sea for help but he’s alone, and he doesn’t know how to go back. He’s stuck here, among land-dwellers, surrounded by people who sing songs of trapping his kind, of stealing their skins, of forcing them to stay where they don’t belong - surrounded by people kin to one who did in fact steal his skin, who did trap him here, who tore him apart from his family irrevocably and probably without a single thought.
And his only chance of going back is to find his skin, a goal that seems utterly unattainable in this moment. Maybe if he was assured of food and water every day, if he was determined and confident and knew enough about land-dwellers to be able to search the country, if he knew who might have taken his skin and how it’s likely to have changed hands, he could search. But he is none of that, none of that, and it feels like wretched, wretched betrayal, but in this hopelessness after two lost weeks of painful, desperate searching, all he can think is that he can learn to live among them, that he has to, that it is all he can possibly do now. Some of them are good, some of them are kind, some of them helped him when he was lost and crying and hungry. But they are not his people, they never will be, they will never have salt in their blood or hear the waves sing in their souls. And if any of them knew what he really was, they would - they would -
“Your clothes are over here,” a voice calls, and he lifts his head with a gasp, blinking water out of his eyes. Daichi lays a bundle of cloth on a rock nearby, smiling cheerfully. “If you need help with any of it, just call me, yeah?”
“Okay,” Asahi mumbles. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Your face is really red, did you know that?”
“J-Just the heat,” he says, praying that the lie isn’t caught.
“Mm, it takes some getting used to,” Daichi says placidly. “Hey, how old are you?”
“Oh, um, fourteen?”
“Oh, the same as me and Hajime! Good, I was worried you'd be one more person who could order me around.”
“I- I wouldn’t -” Asahi stammers, and Daichi laughs.
“I know, I’m teasing. Splash some cold water on if the heat gets too much. I’ll be waiting to show you to your room, okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”
Daichi is kind, he thinks as he’s led to his room. Daichi is kind, and attentive, and obviously wants him to be at home here. “Tell me if you have any questions, okay?” he says as he leaves. “I’ll wake you at sunrise tomorrow. I hope you’ll be happy here, Asahi.”
A choked laugh catches in Asahi’s throat as the door slides shut, and he buries his face in the (very comfortable) futon they’ve given him. Happy? Here?
But he doesn’t have a choice, and if he must try and make his peace with his situation, this seems to be by far the best place to try. He still cries himself to sleep, as he does every night, but when he falls asleep it’s with the knowledge that he’s safe for the first time since this nightmare began.
True to his word, Daichi wakes him at sunrise, when mist is still lying like cream between the hills. Asahi helps him and Keishin prepare breakfast. He cuts vegetables clumsily, he eats with the rest, he dresses as best he can, he fumbles through a prayer to the house shrine with Daichi, and walks down the hill with him to the village, anxiety tightening around his chest like burning steel bands.
He knows, vaguely, what a blacksmith does, and handling fire and molten metal all day long does not seem like particularly safe or enjoyable work. But he has to do something if he’s to live in Crow House, and Hajime will be there - Hajime with the frank words and sure eyes - and that is enough to reconcile him to it. Besides, it’s not like he can suggest anything else that he can do.
They enter the village, already busy and bustling in the early morning light. A few people are hurrying down a wide path that leads eastward, late to their fishing boats. The market’s food and produce stalls are busy, tending to dozens of customers. Daichi leads him through the crowd, holding his hand tight so they aren’t separated, and they’re soon standing in front of a high roofed, thatched building that looks like it might sink into the ground not too long from now.
“This is it,” Daichi says. “Saeko-nee’s forge. She and Ryuu live here now, in the back.”
Asahi cranes his neck, trying to peer into the gloom within. “They - they really live here?”
Daichi chuckles. “I’m sure their room isn’t quite like the rest of it - “
“Yo, Daichi boy!” A short woman steps out, dusting soot off her hands. She has a square of cloth tied over her head and a heavy leather apron around her waist. “It’s been a while! Who’s this?”
“Morning, Saeko-nee! This is Asahi,” Daichi says, pushing Asahi forward with a gentle hand on his back. “He came to Crow House yesterday, Hajime brought him. You got space for one more apprentice?”
“Hmph,” Saeko mutters, looking Asahi up and down, and he fingers the edge of his new yukata nervously. “Yeah, he mentioned. Well, you’ve got strength in your body, that’s for sure, even if you need feeding up. I’ve already got Hajime and Ryuu though, I don’t know if -”
“Ukai-jiisan thought you might say that,” Daichi says, grinning. “He said to tell you -”
Saeko groans, waving a hand. “Yeah, okay, you don’t have to say anything, I can imagine what he said. I’ll take him.”
She steps forward, reaching for Asahi’s wrists briskly. He has to force himself to stand still, like last night, as she inspects his hands and forearms.
“Mmm. I’ll take you, kid, but you’re not touching anything until these wounds are healed. You can watch and learn for a bit. Know anything about smithing?”
“No, ma’am,” he stammers. “I’m sorry, I -”
“Well, that ain’t a problem. You’ll learn, you look bright. For now, you only have to remember two things - if I tell you to do something, do it first and ask questions later, and if you break something or hurt yourself, tell me first and do something about it later. Got it?”
“Y-Yes, ma’am.”
“Saeko-san is fine. Come in, then, let’s get started, we don’t have all day. Hajime’s already in the back. Daichi, you can come and get him at sunset.”
“Got it.” Daichi pats his back reassuringly. “Have a good day, Asahi.”
“T-Thank you, you too!” Asahi stammers over his shoulder as Saeko ushers him forward. Daichi gives him one last smile, and Asahi turns to duck inside after Saeko. It takes him a good minute to adjust to the dimness, Saeko pushing him to the back the whole time. She gestures to the back wall, at an impressive array of tools and weapons.
“You’ll spend your first couple of days here memorizing their names and uses,” she says. “Hajime’ll help you. Hey, Hajime!”
“Yeah!” Hajime’s head pops around the corner, splitting into a grin when he sees Asahi, and the bands around his chest loosen just a little as he musters a smile in return.
“Teach him what you know,” Saeko says briskly. “I’ll ask you what you learned in a couple of hours. He’s in your care.”
“Understood.” Hajime comes to stand with the two of them, and his eyes are dark and warm and reassuring in the dancing light of the forge. “I’ve got him, Saeko-san.”