"Can you help him?"
The voice was startling. It warbled through the dark with an unmistakable panic, its words punctuating bursts of bright white.
"I do not know." The reply was strange, though he could not quite place why. "He is very bad." It was a woman speaking, and as she continued, he recognized the odd pattern of her speech. A foreigner, speaking a language not her own.
"Please, he must be able to return home. His village will retaliate."
He struggled to open his eyes, managing a mere sliver marred with a nauseating blur.
"I will try. But I cannot make promises."
His eyes shivered open, his vision flooding with tears from the blinding sunlight. There was a sudden, unbearable pain that pulsed through him and he grimaced, hardly recognizing the agonized cry that escaped as his own. A soft warmth met his cheek, and the gentlest touch brushed across his lashes to clear the tears, bringing him to struggle his eyes open once more.
This time, a figure was clear in the haze. Dark hair glistened in the sunlight, framing a young face he focused to decipher. She had traits unlike he had ever seen: sun-kissed golden skin, a sharp jaw, a straight, prominent nose. Her deep brown eyes seemed to illuminate with golden halos in the light.
"Can you speak?" Though her tempo was strange, her voice was tender and comforting. His lips parted, but only strained breath escaped. "Do you know his name?" The question was redirected elsewhere.
"His men called him Koma," a voice replied.
His vision was faltering again, warping and blurring, his mind screaming as the pain of his wounds surged. The bright light faded, first a hazy grey before finally going black. A sudden cold swept over him, raising his hair on end, and the pain coursing through him abruptly vanished. There was a vague sensation, pressure and warmth against his chilled chest, and though it was faint, he heard that voice again; composed, but tinged with urgency.
"We are losing him."
Crackling. It was a sound of which he was first aware, gentle and soothing. Brilliant orange danced in his vision against the darkness of his eyelids. Finally, he could feel warmth. It radiated at his side, comforting against the chill that still lingered in his bones.
His lashes fluttered, lids trembling as he opened his eyes. The light in his vision now was far gentler than that of before, a glowing kaleidoscope of orange and yellow. A distorted, cloudy haze obscuring his sight quickly dissipated, and as the world came into view, he found small flames curling nearby his side.
He rolled his head to its side to peer through the dimness. At first, all else was dark, overwhelmed by the flames' light, but a moment passed, and a figure became discernible in the orange glow.
The woman he had seen before stood only feet away, her profile illuminated by the moonlight coming through the open doorway. Thick dark hair poured down her back, long and loose to her hips. Her face was elegant and strangely beautiful in its uniqueness, highly structured and enhanced by the golden tone of her skin.
A dull ache bloomed in his chest, spreading like wildflowers and drawing a pained moan to his lips. The sound caught the woman's attention, and as she looked over, her face softened.
"You are awake." She moved quickly around to his side opposite the fire, slowly kneeling to examine him. It was the first time she had truly seen his eyes, deep blue-green like a stormy sea. Her gaze lingered on them for a moment before passing over his chest, which he had uncovered in a fitful sleep.
"Who are you?" He finally found his voice, soft and low as any projection brought his chest to ache.
"I am Svnoyi," she replied, "who are you?"
"I am Toshitada."
"That is not the name I was given." Readjusting the blanket, her gentle hands smoothed the fabric against him.
"Koma is my family name," he remarked, a vague memory of her earlier exchange now flickering his mind. "I have not heard such a name as yours before. You are not from these lands."
"No, I am not. I come from the West, across the sea."
"Why am I here?"
"You were thrown from your horse, as I was told. It seems someone found you and could not bring themselves to leave you to die. Perhaps a local farmer. There is a village nearby where I am well-known as a healer, they bring many injured and ill to me."
"If you are a healer, then why do I still hurt?" His voice came as a tired, pained sigh. A small smile found its way to Svnoyi's lips.
"I am a medicine woman, not a magician. Your wound is very bad. I did not know I could help you at all." She rested her hand against his ribs through the blanket, her tone darkening, "even still, I am not sure."
"You think I am going to die." She found those blue-green eyes focused on her, intense but unafraid. There was no questioning or fear in his voice, as if it was a fate he had already accepted.
"I will do everything to see to it you do not."
"That is very good!" The voice was encouraging and optimistic, but he could not stop the feeling of failure that crept up his spine.
It had been months. Toshitada knew this. He had watched the leaves change, first to brilliant shades of red and orange before withering into skeletal silver and grey. His wounds had been slow to heal and riddled with obstacles. Pain lingered from his fall, and the deep puncture in his chest had only barely closed, still tender and sensitive to every movement. His steps were slow, laborious, and marked with discomfort.
Still, Svnoyi was kind. Her patience seemed limitless. She walked at his side, arm-in-arm, slow and deliberate. Errands were run with him in tow; trips to the bay for fish, to the forest for herbs, to the local market for rice. Others watched him with pitying glances, something of which he was keenly aware. But she seemed unfazed, and her reassurance never ceased.
"I know you would be able to do this much faster without me," Toshitada remarked. Those honey-toned eyes looked up at him now, their golden halos glowing in the evening sun.
"That is not the point," Svnoyi insisted. "Healing means more than simply closing your wounds. It is a return to normal life. When the journey is not difficult, I will know we have succeeded."
"I fear I will never return to battle." It was a confession that brought a lengthy silence.
"That is what you consider normal?" There was a long pause before she spoke again. "Is it worth it? Fighting, risking your life?" He seemed to genuinely consider the question before answering.
"Yes."
"For what, exactly? What are you trying to achieve?" There was a hint of distress and bewilderment in her voice now, and he noticed her arm tightened ever slightly around his.
"Unity," he replied.
"Under who? You?"
Toshitada looked down to meet her gaze contemplatively. She was so markedly different from him, gentle and compassionate and endlessly humble. Svnoyi wanted for nothing, content with the simplicity of a life spent caring for others. And yet somehow, that selflessness made her powerful; the respect with which the local villagers treated her had not been lost on him. A small smile found its way to his lips.
"I am sorry," she relented, breaking their gaze and looking ahead quietly, "I should not ask you so many questions. It is none of my business."
"I understand," he said, his voice softening. He reached his free arm across his body to take her hand into his. "We have very different aspirations. I owe my life to yours."
Dusk had an ethereal quality in winter. The horizon was barely illuminated in pink and orange, with a distinct streak of brilliant snowy white breaking the sky before fading into inky blue. The colors would vanish rapidly, slipping below the skyline to blanket the heavens with stars.
Stars. It was a fleeting thought, but as it passed, it pulled Toshitada into wakefulness. Tonight was what Svnoyi called a shadow sky, a night when the moon was plunged into darkness and the stars were at their brightest, undisturbed by its light. It was her favorite evening of the celestial cycle, one she would inevitably spend outside under the firmament. He carefully got to his feet, noting the silence in the home that indicated she had already journeyed outside, and made his way out the door.
The woman had not gone far, as he expected: she was laid out flat on her back in the grass beside her home, her dark locks twisting through the blades and hands folded on her stomach.
"Why do you look at the stars?" Toshitada asked as he approached.
"Why do you not?" came her reply.
"Because my place is here, on the ground."
"Perhaps my place is up there." He smiled a bit at the answer. She reached into the air and waved her hand at him, gesturing toward herself. "Come. Lay with me." Stretching her neck to look up across the grass at him, she watched as he made no movement to join her. "Come!" Her hand wiggle was more insistent this time, and finally the man obeyed, walking closer.
Kneeling was finally coming effortlessly. For months, simple movements had been painful and arduous, but now as he sank to his side to lay down, he noticed the ease with which the motion came. He brought his head to lay beside hers, his body stretched opposite to her to allow him closer.
"Do you not see the beauty of the sky?" Svnoyi's eyes focused up into the darkness and his gaze followed suit. He furrowed his brows.
"No," he affirmed, garnering a laugh from his companion.
"Millions of stars shining like pearls in a black sea," she continued. "It is so vast. Endless. Constant, and still somehow ever-changing." Her voice had softened, almost longing and laced with wonder. The tone brought Toshitada pause, and he turned his head quietly to look at her. Suddenly, she reached a hand into the sky, pointing. "Look! Look there."
He obliged and followed her gesture, looking back into the black depths of the heavens. "What am I looking for?"
"Just watch, you will see," she said excitedly.
He watched the sky intently, still unsure of what he was looking for but compelled to indulge her. Several moments passed in silence, each one longer than that preceding it, until suddenly he saw it: a single, brilliant white streak swept across the sky before dissipating. His eyes widened.
"What was that?" His voice betrayed his amazement.
"My people call it a dying star," she replied.
"How did you know that would happen?"
"It happens every year at this time. It is a sign that winter is at its end, and spring is coming." She smiled, dropping her gaze from the stars to look at him. "Spring is my favorite season."
"Is it?"
"Mm. The colors, when everything blossoms. The cherry trees, especially. Their first bloom is always near my birthday," she noted cheerfully, looking back to the sky.
"That makes sense," Toshitada remarked softly, "all beautiful things are born in spring."
Svnoyi turned her head, finding Toshitada's stormy, ocean blue eyes fixed on her. There was softness in his gaze she had not seen before, intense but still tender. He reached a hand up to gently brush his knuckles along her cheekbone and temple.
"I am sorry."
They were the only words he could offer. Toshitada looked down at the gentle face that had watched over him tirelessly for so long. There were no tears, and her lips were still, but as those big, gold-flecked eyes returned his gaze, he could not ignore the sadness within them.
"I must return to my village," he continued. She managed the softest of smiles and nodded kindly.
"I know." Svnoyi reached out to take his hands into hers. Even now he found himself in awe of their tenderness, and he was quick to close his fingers around them. "May your journey be safe, and your path always lit, Toshitada. Perhaps we will meet again someday, in this lifetime or another."
His heart ached. His mind swirled with every word he wanted to say to her, but he could not bring any of them to his lips. It took all the strength he possessed to let go of those small, delicate fingers and finally push his feet to turn away, facing the horse waiting patiently for its rider. He mounted it in silence, fearing what he would say if he allowed himself to speak.
Toshitada took a final look over his shoulder, his eyes settling on Svnoyi for the last time. Feeling his throat clench, he turned away, ushering his steed forward into the forest.
When the journey is not difficult, I will know we have succeeded.
Difficult. How could she have ever known that word would take on such a different meaning to him? The path was simple, well-worn, its gravel even under his horse's hooves. His wounds had long healed, his body restored to its youthful strength and free of pain. Even the day was calm and facile, a mild spring morning illuminated by a warm golden sun and cooled by a gentle breeze.
Spring is my favorite season.
That smile flashed in his memory. An easy journey physically, perhaps. But even as he thought so, his heart panged. And for the first time, he realized not all wounds resulted from swords and spears.
Toshitada's mind wandered and he allowed his horse to slow its pace before coming to a stop. Blue-green eyes drifted upward to settle on a canopy of soft pink splashed against the crystalline sky. Cherry trees.
Their first bloom.
He pressed his heel into the stallion's side, bringing it to turn. Its stride was a slow peter at first, but as the path continued, its rider leaned forward, urging the steed into a gallop. Gravel flicked to each side as the horse dashed through the trees.
She heard the sound long before she acknowledged it. A rhythmic rumbling, steady and escalating as it grew closer. It was only when the flowers she was tending began trembling that Svnoyi's attention was piqued. She looked up and turned to look over her shoulder in search of the disturbance.
Toshitada emerged from the forest path, his steed sprinting over the gravel toward her. Svnoyi was on her feet in an instant, swinging round to face him as he approached.
"Toshitada!" Her voice was laced with confusion and muddled with joy she tried to conceal. He brought the horse to a stop, its feet still in motion as he swung his leg over to dismount in a single, sweeping movement.
"Come with me," he insisted. His gaze was met with wide eyes.
"What?"
"To my village."
Svnoyi shook her head lightly. "I would be an outsider again. Acceptance does not come easily for a foreigner, you know this."
He took a step closer to her. Finally, he willed himself to reach out to her, taking her diminutive form into his arms and drawing her against his body. "That does not matter if you come with me as my bride." His grasp was firm, but there was the slightest tremble in his hands as he feared her answer. He could not leave without her again.
Her heart skipped a beat. She met his gaze, intense and sincere, and felt suddenly breathless. Her hands came to rest against his chest and she offered the smallest nod, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. I will."