The guest room of the old woman's cottage was unlike the living room—or even the woman's own bedroom, from the brief glance Mito stole earlier last evening. The living room seemed specially designed to scare off those of weak constitution; the room was in a state of mild disarray and the floors and cabinets were all coated in a thin layer of dust. The guest room, however, was perfectly neat, with light lavender wallpaper and in the center of the wall, a large bed with crisply fitted sheets. Aside from a dresser and an alarm clock upon a nightstand, the room was bare of furniture. The more observant side of Mito took note of this inconsistency. On an ordinary night, Mito might have entertained herself with an ill-informed psychoanalysis of Fuma's preferences in cleanliness. But for now, she was preoccupied with her much simpler gratitude for a soft bed, stretching out as far as she could under the fleece blanket.
Almost without noticing it, she found herself asleep, and her thoughts unfolded into dreams about nothing in particular
A sharp noise disturbed her trance. She shifted away on instinct, but it only grew louder and clearer. "Wake up!" it said.
Mito pulled herself awake and lifted herself up in bed, grunting out an undignified "Huh?"
"I know you heard me," it said—it must have been Fuma, she thought. "Come on, I told you your training starts in the morning."
"Huh?" she repeated. "But it's not."
With an expression of complete self-satisfaction, Fuma thrust the clock in Mito's face. It read a minute past midnight. "Yes it is," she said. "So get up."
Mito heaved herself out of bed with great effort and allowed Fuma to lead her out of the cottage. Out of the cottage?
"Where are we going?" Mito asked.
Fuma said, "You'll see when we get there," and after that, she didn't respond to any more questions, so the two fell into a silence. To occupy herself, Mito focused on what she heard. It was always her strongest sense, and she often put it to use simply to distract herself. They were leaving town now and a layer of dead leaves and pines grew thicker upon the ground, crackling with each footstep. The trees were tall and thin, with branches that snapped when she brushed against them by accident, although she made an effort not to. Soon, though, these slight and fragile trees were replaced with hardier varieties. However, the tree that they stopped at was much larger than any of the others Mito had seen, with a trunk ten feet in diameter.
"This is our training ground," Fuma said, laying a wrinkled hand on the tree. "Make sure not to make too much noise out here." As an afterthought, she said, "Wouldn't want the locals getting nosy."
"What do you want me to do?" Mito asked.
Fuma lowered herself onto the ground gently, bracing against the tree trunk for support. "Nothing too strenuous, don't worry," she said. "I thought I'd just ask you some questions about yourself to start. Sit down, now." Mito did. "Do you have any combat experience?"
Mito considered the question.
"A little tip," Fuma interjected. "If you have to think about it, your answer is probably no."
"I don't then," she said.
"Very good. Now, have you ever used any weapons before?"
"I have, actually," Mito said, glad to be able to say yes to at least one of her questions. "We used to hunt at Whale Island, so I've used a rifle and a bow." She was a decent shot, in addition, although slightly less so with a rifle. It was much too loud, and she had never managed to adjust to it. The blast of sound and the recoil always threw off her aim by a few centimeters in any given direction.
"Excellent," Fuma said, leaning in eagerly. "That should save us at least some time. Last question, although it's not really a question. Just tell me about yourself. Strengths, personal quirks. Anything you think I should know. "
Mito tried to answer, but found herself with nothing beyond the obvious, and nothing that Fuma had not already learned. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure if there's anything else," she finally offered.
Fuma frowned, but didn't look especially surprised. "Of course there is. But we'll just have to find it the longer way," she said.
A gust of wind whipped at Mito's face, forcing her to look away to avoid its intensity. When she looked back where Fuma had been, the old woman was now missing, and only a light imprint in the soil gave any indication that she had been there at all. Then, a pinecone whizzed through the air, and hit Mito's shoulder with a sharp crack, splintering into several fragments upon the impact. "I changed my mind about your training," Fuma called. Mito couldn't locate the direction of her voice; it bounced from surface to surface and blended together into a voice from everywhere around her. "Find me, and hit me with a pinecone. That's all you have to do. It ought to be simple enough."
Mito waited for any further explanation, or perhaps a hint to set her on the right track (although she knew that hoping for one was likely futile), but nothing came. For a moment, she stood still and searched in vain for a plan. When she came up empty, she forced herself to move anyway, so that she would at least be doing something. Any movement, even if it was directionless, was better than doing nothing. She picked a direction—northeast, she estimated, since that was the direction the gust of wind had blown when Fuma had dashed off—and set into a light jog, slow enough that she could keep a clear view around her.
The forest pulsated with a constant energy, stirred into motion by a cool breeze, but nothing in it indicated the presence of another person. Mito wandered for what must have been an hour, and when it occurred to her that she ought to try to remember which direction she came from, she couldn't. Then, on the edge of a small pond coated in algae, she noticed a scrap of paper pinned to a white silk sash. Mito held the sash closer; on the paper was a neatly printed message:
Unfortunately, I seem to have lost all my belongings in the wilderness! What will I do? If only an enterprising young lady who dearly appreciates her elders could retrieve them, she might be able to find my location. I believe I have misplaced my cane in a cabin… somewhere or other. Alas, it seems my cane is destined to remain lost and alone forever!
Mito heaved a sigh of simultaneous exasperation and relief. The note was clearly Fuma's, and now she had a lead to pursue. An obviously artificial one, but a lead nonetheless. Mito scaled the tallest tree she could find in the area, gliding from branch to branch with an ease she had forgotten she possessed, until she could see for half a mile around her. About a hundred yards from Mito's perch atop the pine, a log cabin was nestled in a clearing, hardly visible against the canvas of withered leaves. She only noticed it because smoke poured out of a chimney; Mito silently wondered at herself that she could have missed it before. She clambered down the tree and ran in a near-sprint to the cabin.
The house was almost completely dark, except for the faint light of candles set by the window. Mito tapped on the door, and a moment later, it was answered by a young girl in a plain, boxy nightgown with striking, deep brown eyes. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and greeted Mito hesitantly.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Mito said, "but have you seen a walking cane somewhere in the house? A friend of mine lost hers, and she believes it's here."
The girl's parents entered the living room and rushed to the door. They looked startled, and they regarded Mito with suspicion. "Honey, who is this?" her mother asked.
Mito stammered out an apology and as much of an explanation as she could provide, although her situation was strange even to her own ears. The family invited her in to search for the missing cane, and their confusion did not keep them from politeness.
"Can I make you a cup of tea?" the mother asked distractedly, in between lighting candles and setting a place at the table. "Please sit down. Make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the sofa.
"I really appreciate it, but I can't stay long," Mito said, growing more embarrassed by her intrusion by the second. "And I really couldn't impose on your hospitality."
"Don't be silly, dear," the mother exclaimed. "It's really no trouble at all, and it's freezing outside tonight. I'll brew it while Launne here helps you look for your friend's cane." She called for her daughter and sent her to help Mito search. "Give her a tour, honey."
Launne wrapped a soft, fragile hand around two of Mito's fingers and led her into a dimly lit hallway. She pointed to a doorway on their left. "This is my parent's bedroom, and mine is on the right," she said quietly. "The bathroom is down the hall. Please don't go into my room though. It's kind of messy."
"Of course," Mito said, internally squealing at the impossible level of cuteness. "I'll check the bathroom then, and you can look in your room." The girl's expression brightened, now free of a tension that Mito hadn't noticed until it was no longer there.
After the girl struck a match and lit her a candle for her, Mito separated herself from the girl's grasp and went into the bathroom. Unlike the rest of the house, the bathroom was covered from floor to ceiling in tile and marbled granite, and a mirror stretched across the back wall. A family photo hung askew across from the vanity. In the photo, the family sat in a row upon a low tree branch. In spite of the setting, the entire family wore formal clothing, the mother in a sunflower yellow sundress and the father in a button-down shirt and tie. Their eyes were all a piercing green, a perfect match for the canopy of foliage behind them.
Mito quickly reminded herself that she came to look for Fuma's cane. She pulled open drawers and cabinets and combed through them in search of the cane, but she found nothing.
"Tea's ready!" the mother called from the kitchen. Mito left the bathroom, reuniting with Launne in the kitchen.
"Did you find anything?" she asked, and the girl shook her head.
"That's a shame," the mother said, sitting down with them at the table. She presented a delicate china teacup, and said, "Drink up. I hope you like chamomile."
Mito thanked her sincerely. Although she felt strange about accepting such gracious hospitality this late at night, she was glad to have a cup of tea before she was forced back out into the forest. She took a long sip. The tea was clean and sweet, and she soon finished the whole cup.
"Would you like more?" the father asked, and Mito nodded quickly.
"How is it, dear?" the mother asked.
"It's very good, ma'am," she answered.
And it was. She felt herself relax, as she always did after drinking tea; it was a pleasant and warm feeling.
"Where are you from?" the mother asked.
Mito said, "I'm from Whale Island. You might not have heard of it; it's small and rural, but we do sell a lot of fish."
"That sounds wonderful!" she exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"
Mito felt even more relaxed now. It took effort to keep her eyes open. "I'm good, thanks," she mumbled. The woman smiled, like she had confirmed something important.
"That's good, dear," she whispered. With every moment, it grew harder to keep her eyes open. This wasn't normal.
"Did you—" Mito said. She forced the words out, but found herself unable to finish the question.
The woman leaned over Mito. "Hush. Don't worry about that. Just go to sleep now."
Mito pushed furiously against the blanket of warmth enveloping her, struggling in vain to go back to normal, but the feeling pressed in on her and she found herself unable to resist sleep. Her eyes closed slowly, and through blurred vision, she saw the woman's body contort and grow to an impossible size, with broad shoulders and grotesquely thin limbs. She vaguely felt her body lift from the chair, and then she felt no more.