Chapter Text
I was nine when I was summoned to my father. I kneel in front of the current Saizo, staring at the intricate patterns of the tatami. My small knees are nothing compared to the dents many men before me had impressed upon the straw mat.
"Suzukaze." It is an acknowledgment of my existence, one I am unaccustomed to from my father.
"You will accompany your brother to the Nohrian negotiations," comes my father's voice. My head bows lower in understanding. It is our clan's duty to serve the throne, and my brother was to be the prince's perpetual head servant and protector. Such is the duty of the first-born son of Saizo, just as my father is for King Sumeragi.
It was not expected of me to answer; ninja were to hear and understand all.
"I expect you will not be a burden. Dismissed." My father's tongue is as sharp as always. I try not to hear the same steel my brother had adopted within. I bow and excuse myself from the room, trying to understand my purpose on this trip.
No doubt my brother had gone before me; he waits for me outside the counsel room. "You'll see some of the world," he says stiltedly; we had both learned that words travel quickly in Igasato.
It is his idea of offering words of comfort.
"You knew," I answer. I berate those words as soon as they leave my mouth; of course he would know my fate before I do.
He grunts in return. He had started using his words less, I note. Just like our father. Saizo had stopped his excited accounts of High Prince Ryoma and what honors had been bestowed of him by Father: it is better I do not know.
Perhaps I agree. My duty is not similar to my brother's at all. He is the future Saizo, and I his liegeless bother. I am not interested in such matters of royalty, though it remains my duty nevertheless.
My brother seems to notice my mind has wandered, a rare moment for him. "Let's rehearse Nohrian proper speech after dinner," he suggests. He is much more fluent than I, so it is for my sake. I wouldn't need to use it in Cheve, as I am a wordless ninja.
I comply.
It's only a few days after that I finally understand.
"You asked Father if I could come."
Another grunt from my brother.
I find myself confused by his answer, but I could not bring myself to words. I swallow my questions and continue with my mindless task: descaling a river trout.
Our traveling group to Cheve seems small, but I know our numbers deceive. Six men of Igasato are positioned within the trees, watching every movement from above. Should anything happen, our party would double in size. I remind myself not to give their locations away with my gaze, but my eyes are drawn to admiring the leafy greens of the familiar Hoshidan forests. It would not be long until it would give way to barren plains.
I remind myself to look forward. To the sides. Forward. Sides.
My father leads the group with King Sumeragi. Behind that, my brother and High Prince Ryoma. Ryoma speaks elatedly about the legendary blade Raijintou, said to call down the powers of the Thunder God himself. Saizo feigns interest.
I trail with Takumi. He complains of the journey, lamenting the lack of activities and the state of his feet. I remind him that the journey is not long yet, and offer a Igasatian salve from my pack; it is refused.
Behind us, servants and our belongings follow. Niceties for Nohr, provisions for our trip, and some extra, in case of emergency. I am to join them, when Takumi has no more need of me.
The trek of nine days passes without event. King Sumeragi teaches High Prince Ryoma of the local flora, reminding him that he should know of every living inhabitant of his future domain. Saizo and I watch the exchange longingly. Takumi seems to have grown tired of complaining, having adopted a sullen and reluctant compliance.
We are greeted warmly in Cheve. The knights of Cheve always receive royalty with hearty ceremony; it is not for me. I watch the knights bow for our country's leaders; King Sumeragi's commanding yet jovial aura seems to grow tenfold as deference is shown. High Prince Ryoma's breast juts out, displaying the pride of his royalty. Had I not been trained, I might have missed my brother's deceptive stealth in Ryoma's shadow.
Later that evening, I am given freedom to explore Cheve. It is as my brother had said; I could see some of the world. With Saizo tending to some matter unrelated to me, I was alone.
It is the way I prefer.
I wander through the streets of the capital, admiring the products merchants had on display. It is a festival; sellers showcase their finest goods, hoping to catch the eye of royalty who might one day become their commissioners.
I have no enthusiasm for their extravagant golds and silvers. I take interest in a modest stall, with only one other patron. It's a wood carpenter's stand; intricate depictions of dragons and flowers cover the seller's space. I bow slightly to the carpentress as is common in our lands, catching myself partway; here, it is not done.
I marvel at the craftsmanship of a wooden sparrow. She's observant, and gives her permission for me to inspect it closely without prompt.
It fits in the palm of my hand. The bird is impossibly smooth, delighting my fingers with every touch. I could discern each feather on its back; the maker surely had knowledge of which were used for flight and which were used for gliding. I hold it tightly, fearing it might fly away from my grip if I were to drop it.
In my fixation, I only realize I am being watched when it is too late. I startle, unbecoming of a ninja, and grasp the sparrow close to me. It is the only other patron, a boy of my age with curly hair of gold, watching me inspect the object.
"I'm sorry for scaring you," he starts, Nohrian dialect ripe in his voice, looking rather taken aback.
"The mistake is mine," I reply. I had never used the Nohrian dialect of our language on somebody that was not Hoshidan. I wonder if I had made myself understood.
I plan to escape from this situation. I gingerly place the bird back in its spot. Such an object is meant for royalty, I knew. if one needed to ask how much it would cost, undoubtedly it would be too expensive. I do not own many things, yet I regret not having the funds to make it mine.
My gaze lingers too long on the bird. I can feel the boy's gaze burrow itself in the side of my head; he must take pity on me.
As I prepare to leave, the boy speaks. "I want that one, please." The words are polite, but contain an air of command.
It's none of my business, yet I cannot help but wonder which piece has captivated his attention. My eyes follow his finger. He wants the sparrow. I feel a strange feeling of ownership flare up over the trinket, though I know I have no claim to it in the least.
The seller nods, "Of course; it's yours."
I am shocked. She expects no pay from him. Could it have been that easy to own it? I briefly consider snatching it and fleeing, and banish the thought as quickly as it came, yielding the way for the boy in gold to take it.
He takes the sparrow, trying to mirror the delicacy with which I had handled it. His hands tremble, and I can see why. Those hands knew swords better than they knew kunai and shuriken; they were built for power instead of precision.
"Here," he says, offering it in my direction. I glance over my shoulder, thinking he must be speaking to somebody else. There is nobody else.
"It's for you," he insists. I could not recall receiving a gift before.
"For me?" Confusion decorated my inadequacy.
"Yes," he presses, insisting the bird upon me once more.
I pause, considering a trap of some sort. But such an explanation did not come to me.
"... Thank you." I admire it once more. It is mine. An unidentifiable feeling wells up in me; it's warm and proud. I hold the sparrow close to my breast.
"I thought you might like it." He looks proud.
I don't know what else to say. "Thank you."
This answer does not seem to please him. "Don't you?"
"I do," I insist. "A lot. Thank you."
"Hoshidan," he states, with a frown. I don't know what he means by that. It must be apparent from my clothing, from my manner of speech, or perhaps from my appearance.
I have nothing to say to that.
"I'm Xander," he explains.
He holds out a hand. I had been explained this gesture before, but I had not practiced it much. I shake it with my right with unfamiliarity, making sure the bird does not fly away with the left.
Knowledge is a facet of power, so is said in Igasato. "I'm Kaze," I reply. I did not have the heart to decline giving my name, not after receiving the wooden sparrow.
"Okay! We're friends now, Kaze!" he answers excitedly. It reminds me of Ryoma.
I do not consider him my friend, but I smile and nod. Xander must have a lot of other friends. I glance over his shoulder, expecting to see a group of them-- but there were none, just adults about on their business.
He's observant and notices. He seems to deflate for a beat, but continues nonetheless. "Come on! I saw some daggers two sellers over! You'll love it!"
I cannot manage a half-bow to the seller before being pulled by my hand to the next store.
Xander shows me his favorites; one with a purple hilt and gold insets, another with black and purple. I deduce that his favorite color must be purple.
He brings me his preferred festival food, explaining the special way the farmers in neighboring fields treat the goats in order to get the cream just so. He doesn't seem to mind that I have little to add.
When the festival's torches begin to die out, he takes his leave. "I need to head back. They'll wonder where I've gone," he explains. "Thanks for being my friend, Kaze!"
I hadn't done anything special, I felt. "Thank you for your gift." It hadn't left my grasp since I got it.
He swells up with a smile. "You're welcome! 'Till we meet again!"
That didn't seem likely to me. I come from Igasato, and he from Nohr; two worlds apart. "Until then," I answer.
He runs off in a sprint.
I realize that I had made a friend.