No one respectable ventured to this part of the city. His clothing, carefully torn and deliberately splashed just so with filth, and his horse, drenched in thick slops of mud, concealed his identity. But as he rode through the broken cobblestones and rancid waste of the Aogiri district, he could only conclude it was all a waste of time and energy. The people in this area were too focused on scrubbing their clothes with lye, picking maggots out of their bread, and avoiding the plague to worry about a noble stranger.
He ventured down one of the narrow alleyways. Rotten fruit lay on the road, trampled by feet and baked by the sun. The smell still curdled the beef he'd eaten for dinner.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting shadows along Aogiri. In the distance, an infant bawled.
He nudged the animal off the street, urging it towards the grove of trees where he'd been directed. Weeping willows rustled in the breeze. Branches knocked against each other. He dismounted his horse and tied the animal to a solid oak. The horse snorted, uneasy.
He turned and walked towards the grove. His boots sank in the mud. He yanked them free, the earth issuing a squelch in protest. He pushed his way past a pine, dead needles falling over his hair.
And there she was, sitting under the apple tree, legs crossed as if she considered herself among the holy people. A fire burned in front of her, stoked by a man with white hair and a red mask.
That man leapt to his feet at the sight of the intruder. His hand went to his belt, withdrawing a sword.
He waved his hand. "No need."
The man in the red mask simply aimed the sword. From behind him, more emerged. A tiny woman with salmon-hued hair. A sniveling man in white britches too fancy for him to own. A silent man in a dark cloak, and a boy with an all-too-familiar gleam in his eyes. The gleam of a bloodthirsty child.
"No need indeed," came her voice, husky. She rose, bandages covering her face. "We'll be quite safe."
He glanced at her.
The crowd dispersed, vanishing back into the trees. The man with the red mask stayed, gaze fixated on him.
"And why are you here?" she asked. Her hands wound up to her face, unwrapping. The bandages fell to the dirt, revealing a young woman with mint hair and a devious smile.
"I should think you would tell me," he replied, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Since rumors of a fortune-teller have reached even the palace."
"Have they?" She leaned back against the apple tree, reaching up to brush one of the lower-hanging red fruits.
"You know witchcraft and all enchanted items are banned," he said. "Punishable by death." Since it is said that witches can only exercise the power they were born with by draining the energy and life from victims.
"And they have been since before you or I were born," she finished. An owl hooted. "I know the law."
His ire snapped. "And if you know the law, then I'll arrest you for witchcraft. Or for lying to people and stealing their money, since I know you collect payment for it. One's punishable by death. The other, by a few lashes."
"You rode down here by yourself to arrest me?" She let out a cackle. "I'm flattered, really, I am."
The man in the red mask took a step forward. Clearly, he was not willing to let the witch go without a fight. Well, he was armed too.
"Are you telling fortunes or not?" he demanded.
She giggled now, plucking one of the apples and tossing it up in the air, catching it, and tossing it again. "Like my juggling? You're a true child at heart, aren't you, Furuta Nimura?"
"You'd have to have three to juggle," he retorted. "I'm not impressed."
"Now, see, you didn't have to tell me that. Your first sentence said it all." She bit into the apple, chewing. She swallowed. The firelight cast an orange glow over her. "And you came here tonight, rode all the way down here in that terrible disguise, just to hear your fortune, did you? Let's cease the threats; I'm hardly threatened." She smiled, baring her teeth.
"We haven't yet decided whether you're worth it," he replied. "Show me—an enchanted item. A mirror, a crystal ball, something. Prove it."
"I don't need to prove anything to you," she answered, sauntering towards him. She stopped when she was inches away. "I know who you are, Furuta Nimura, and why you came here tonight. Though, I suppose, you've had many names, haven't you?"
His heart pounded. It's real. You are a witch. "Takatsuki Sen is not your true name either, is it?"
She peered up in his eyes. Smoke from the fire tickled his nostrils. "You don't know my real name, but I know yours, Souta."
He scowled.
"Are you here to know your future, or your father's?" she asked, withdrawing and dropping back to the earth. She gestured for him to sit as well, right on the wet grass. "Maybe if you tell him his future, his glorious future, he will thank you, will he? Or he'll release you from that engagement to a woman you consider mean and stupid. Ami, isn't it?"
His lips curled. "She's fat and ugly." The man with the red mask stayed standing.
"Watch your words," warned the witch. "We both know who your father truly is."
He tensed.
"Must be difficult watching him treat the kingdom the same way he treats you," she continues. "Which is to say: like you're worthless. Sent to squire for that useless knight, Sir Kijima—"
Furuta leapt to his feet. He drew a blade from his waistband. Instantly, the man in the red mask put himself between him and the witch.
"Don't worry, Tatara," she said. "He won't harm me."
Tatara glanced over his shoulder, and then narrowed his eyes at Furuta. Clearly he was not convinced.
I won't? He gritted his teeth. "I came here to pay you, witch, not listen to your insults. You're making me reconsider turning you in and watching you swing on the end of a noose."
"No," she disagreed. "You came here in a desperate search for hope. You're a child grasping at the moon. You'll do anything to believe that there's a better future, but I don't even know if I should answer your petulant demands. Because you don't even know if you want a better future." She bit into the apple again.
"I will pay," he said, humiliation welling up from inside him, burning and scratching. "I brought gold—"
"I don't want your gold, Furuta Nimura." She took another bite, and another.
"Then what do you want?" he snarled. "Name it, and I'll—" You want me to beg, don't you? You want me to weaken myself for your own sadistic pleasure!
"All that's required to see your future is a bite of your flesh," said Takatsuki. She leaned forward, eyes glittering. The fire sparked, embers flying high. They dulled when they touched her hair, singeing it.
"A—bite?" His jaw dropped. Of all the things Furuta had considered, that was not one of them.
She threw her head back, laughing. Tatara dipped his head. "No. I was teasing. I already know where you're going, Furuta Nimura. And so do you."
"I don't!" he erupted, leaping to his feet. He kicked at the flaming wood. "That's why I'm here! Not so you could mock me—I'll hang you for this; I'll—"
"The future is often not so specific," she informed him. Tatara helped her to her feet.
He froze. Bile stung his tongue. "Excuse me?"
"If you want me to tell you 'you won't marry Ami' or 'your father will hug you in a thousand years during the winter, on a day when the flowers are blooming' you won't hear it." She tossed what remained of the apple—its core—into the fire.
"Then what can you tell me?" The people were buzzing about this witch. Saying she could tell the future. Saying she wasn't a fraud like the dozens of others the Washuu king did not even bother to imprison them, because they were simply trying to survive, and the common people were clinging to them in an attempt to mine enough hope to survive themselves. Pathetic.
But her… the streets were alive with whispers of her.
"I can tell you," she said, coming closer. "Hush, child."
He bristled. He could tell she enjoyed insulting him.
Her hand reached up, nails scraping his cheek as she pulled his face down. She peered into his eyes. "The thing you love most," she said. "It will vanish soon. And then you will have to defeat a great—an ancient—enemy if you ever hope to have what you love again."
"That's it?" he demanded.
She released his jaw. "That's enough. That's all you need."
"All I need?" he asked, in disgust. "Need for what? I wasted all this time for a vague—"
"I treated you no differently than I've treated all the peasants who come to me," she responded, leaning her cheek against the tree bark.
"Peasants?" Usually they don't refer to each other that way. He frowned. "Who are you?"
"I think it's time for you to go," she said, crouching by the fire to warm her small palms. "It doesn't matter where we're from or whom we're born as, despite what the aristocracy will tell you. All that matters is where we go. And you of all people should understand that."
She truly knows. "You watch your mouth," he warns. He glowered, stepping back. Tatara aimed the sword again. "You know, I was expecting someone a lot more interesting."
"Oh?" she asked. A frog croaked. "What were you expecting? Me to name your fate, something you cannot avoid no matter what you suffer? I'm afraid I'd rather give people some hints to learn about themselves rather than outright predictions that trap them."
"I heard you had one red eye and one green," he said. "I heard you predicted a man would win his lady's heart. I heard you—"
"Tell me," she said, a smile playing with her lips. "Do you believe everything you hear?"