The rain fell in a steady rhythm, the road slick with mud as the storm swirled around them. Belle-mère pressed forward, her paper umbrella glowing faintly, shielding her from the downpour. Her steps were steady, her resolve firm despite the storm. Behind her, the two girls followed—one careful, one wild, both tugging at her heart in different ways.
"Nami, stop running!" Nojiko called, her voice rising with exasperation.
"Then catch me!" Nami's laughter rang out, her slight form darting ahead.
She wore a simple green tunic dress, the hem of which was soaked with rain and mud, but she didn't care. Her orange hair clung to her freckled face as she splashed through puddles, her geta clacking in a rhythmic beat.
Nojiko, older by two years, trudged along more cautiously. Her damp indigo hair, tied back with a red headband, was neatly kept. She carried a small satchel slung across her chest, carefully cradling its contents with one hand while trying to keep up with her sister.
"Ugh, Mama, she's doing it again!" Nojiko complained, her frustration evident.
Belle-mère glanced back, her lips curving into a faint smile despite herself. "Let her run, Nojiko. You know she can't sit still for long."
"It's annoying," Nojiko muttered, clutching the satchel closer.
The bag was packed with herbs, roots, and small trinkets—items Nojiko had instinctively gathered during their journey. Though Belle-mère hadn't formally trained her yet, it was clear Nojiko had a natural aptitude for apothecary work. She noticed details others missed, plucking medicinal plants from the roadside without hesitation, her hands quick and unquestionable.
But Nami was the opposite. She had no patience for observation, no desire for caution. She followed her gut, wild and untamed, as though her instincts were tuned to some unseen force.
"Stay close, you two," Belle-mère called, her voice firm. "We're not far from Shimotsuki."
The journey from Cocoyasi Village had been extended, the storm adding to its difficulty. Belle-mère's old friend, Koushirou, had sent her an urgent letter, speaking of a sorceress who had come to steal the children of his village. A dark power, he'd written, one unlike anything he'd faced before. Belle-mère couldn't ignore the call for help, and though she had hesitated to bring the girls, leaving them behind seemed more dangerous.
As they rounded a bend, the road opened into a wide field. The grass was tall and damp, swaying faintly in the wind. But it wasn't the beauty of the scene that caught Belle-mère's attention—it was the figure crouched beneath a lone tree at the far edge of the field.
Nami stopped mid-step, her head tilting curiously as she stared at the figure. "Mama," she said quietly. "That boy needs help."
Belle-mère felt it then—a weight in the air, oppressive and suffocating. It wrapped around them like unseen chains, pressing against her chest. Her sharp eyes locked onto the boy. His slight frame was huddled beneath the tree, his green hair soaked and clinging to his face.
"Stay here," Belle-mère said, her tone clipped with warning.
But Nami was already moving, snatching something from her sister's bag and already spiriting.
"Nami!" Belle-mère shouted, reaching to grab her, but she hit an invisible barrier. The air itself seemed to ripple, pushing her back. Belle-mère frowned, her grip tightening on the umbrella.
Nojiko clutched her mother's arm, fear flashing in her wide eyes. "Mama, what's happening?"
Belle-mère shook her head, unable to answer. The oppressive force pushed against her, yet Nami slipped through it as though it didn't exist.
The girl's small figure approached the boy, her steps confident despite the thick, dark energy swirling around him. When she reached him, she crouched to his level, her head tilting slightly as she examined him.
"Why are you crying?" she asked, her voice soft but curious.
The boy's head jerked up, and his gray eyes were reddened with his tears, but Nami also saw it, a creepy aura that was trying to take him whole. It was more potent than the demons and monsters that her mother fought. It was ancient...powerful...evil.
The boy quickly scrubbed at his face, his expression shifting to one of defiance. "I'm not crying!" he snapped.
"You are," Nami said plainly.
"I'm not!" His voice cracked, his fists clenching around two wooden swords lying beside him.
Nami frowned, her sharp gaze noticing how the air around him seemed darker and heavier. The oppressive energy swirled more violently, pressing down as though alive.
Belle-mère shouted from the edge of the field, her voice laced with urgency. "Nami, come back!"
But Nami ignored her. Instead, she started peeling the small mikan in her hand.
"What are you doing?" the boy demanded, his glare sharp despite the tears staining his cheeks.
Without answering, Nami grabbed his collar and shoved him to the ground.
"Hey—what the—"
"Shut up and chew," she ordered, shoving a segment into his mouth.
The boy froze, and the red in his gray eyes disappeared as they grew wide with shock. The tart juice spilled down his chin, and Nami sighed in relief.
"What—what is this?!" he sputtered, coughing.
"A mikan, you idiot!" Nami snapped as she shoved another piece into his mouth.
"It tastes bad!"
"It does not, crazy girl!"
"I'm not crazy! You're just stupid," she said, yelling when he bit her finger. Nami glared at him and then landed a swift punch to his face, which only caused them to toss around on the wet ground.
Their voices rang through the field, the oppressive energy thinning with every word and tumble. Belle-mère felt the barrier dissolve and rushed forward, Nojiko at her side.
The boy scrambled to his feet, his face red with anger and embarrassment. "You're crazy!" he shouted, wiping the leftover juice from his bruised chin. As he saw the other approaching, he left his wooden swords and instead picked up a wrapped staff from where it lay just beyond the tree. He ran off into the woods while Nami dusted herself off, scoffing at his behavior.
Belle-mère stopped beside Nami, her sharp eyes scanning the ground. Her heart sank as she saw the disturbed earth near the tree—a shallow grave hastily covered. The smell of death lingered faintly in the air.
"Nami, what happened?" Belle-mère asked, her voice low.
Nami shrugged, brushing her hands on her dress and wiping some dirt off her cheek. "The clouds didn't like him."
Belle-mère blinked. "The clouds?"
"He smelled wrong," Nami said.
Belle-mère knelt by the grave, her fingers tracing the soil. Under her breath, she murmured a purification spell, the dark energy dissipating as she worked. But the ache in her chest remained. Something had been buried here—something dark and dangerous.
"Why did you give him a mikan?" Nojiko asked, still clutching her satchel.
Nami grinned, the mischievous light returning to her freckled face. "Because they're lucky."
Belle-mère stared at her youngest daughter, the child's certainty unnerving yet oddly comforting. She hadn't taught Nami about auras or energy yet. How could she know?
As they continued down the road, Nami skipping ahead once more, Belle-mère couldn't shake the image of the boy or the darkness that had surrounded him.
The storm was only beginning, and she knew it would not pass quickly, but she hoped that the luck Nami gave him would last…for both their sakes.