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apocalypticavolition · 9 months

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World: Chapter 1: An Empty Road

Welcome back to my reread! As will always be the case but isn't usual yet because we're just getting started, this post has spoilers for everything ever and should not be looked at if you don't want to see those. In fact, just telling you that spoils this very post, so it's already too late!

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

A comfy paragraph that feels like home. Someone could literally plagiarize this and I wouldn't care because it's such a good way to start! More book series should try and have very consistent beginnings, it really adds a lot.

Oh, and I should probably mention chapter headers. This guy has the "Wheel and Snake" motif, which is a generic Plot kind of deal.

Note that I am skipping over a second prologue that was added to these books when they were (for some reason) trying to make a YA version of the series that cut each book in half. That prologue, "Ravens", is one I've never read (or maybe I have but only once) and features Egwene al'Vere a few years before the series begins. Maybe I'll circle around to it someday, but I'm very big on only accepting works as they initially were (barring fixing typos or outright plot holes) and not with a whole bunch of doodads attached.

...the wind blew east, out across the Sand Hills, once the shore of a great ocean, before the Breaking of the World...

Interestingly, the most likely body of water for this to be is actually the Mediterranean, not any of the oceans proper.

Gusts plastered Rand al’Thor’s cloak to his back, whipped the earth-colored wool around his legs, then streamed it out behind him.

Rand has a lot of associations with wind (Loial even notes it in-universe) and also the land, so it's appropriate that we get both here with the wind blowing through the earth-colored wool. Note as well that while the earth is protecting him (though not especially well), the wind has been turned by the Shadow into something hostile.

He felt a little foolish about wanting to reassure himself that Tam was still there, but it was that kind of day.

Considering his later thoughts about wolves and bears, it doesn't even seem that foolish. Take it from someone who just a few weeks ago was dealing with being separated from family on a Canadian highway that definitely had bears.

Without thinking he touched the nock of the arrow; it was ready to draw to his cheek in one smooth movement, the way Tam had taught him.

Tam's influence on Rand looms large over the series, which does set up the reversal in TGS and the breakdown it causes quite well.

Wolves raided the sheep pens and chewed their way into barns to get the cattle and horses. Bears had been after the sheep, too, where a bear had not been seen in years.

It's rather interesting to imagine what might have happened to Perrin if Moiraine hadn't taken him away. The wolves would likely worm their way into his head by about the time he met Elyas in canon anyway, only he'd be in such a different context it's not hard to imagine him going really off the rails. Someone who actually finishes what they started should write a fic!

With his thick chest and broad face, he was a pillar of reality in that morning, like a stone in the middle of a drifting dream.

And Tam's being a metaphorical pillar of reality is of course set up for the fact that by the end of the series Rand himself will be a literal one. It's really impressive how clearly Jordan saw the ending of the series; the Slog in my opinion is likely a product of his uncertainty in how to get there.

[Rand's mother] had been an outlander, and Rand remembered little of her aside from a smiling face, though he did put flowers on her grave every year, at Bel Tine, in the spring, and at Sunday, in the summer.

It's terrible being a mom for a protagonist, even an adoptive mother. Death is the best you can hope for.

But Tam had given his word about the brandy and cider, even if he had waited to make delivery until the day before Festival. Keeping his word was important to Tam.

"Belief and order give strength." If Tam had accompanied Rand on this journey, the whole thing would have been over in five days tops.

As Rand watched his side of the road, the feeling grew in him that he was being watched. For a while he tried to shrug it off. Nothing moved or made a sound among the trees, except the wind. But the feeling not only persisted, it grew stronger. The hairs on his arms stirred; his skin prickled as if it itched on the inside.

This is of course Rand's channeler sense for Shadowspawn. Does this mean he's already channeled at some point this winter, or do sparks like him get the various gifts before they start because it's inevitable that they will anyway? I wonder if Nynaeve (and maybe Egwene if sparks do get the spidey sense before channeling) has spent the last few days being itchy as all hell and not having a clue why. It would add another reason to her bad temper over being asked about the weather.

Not more than twenty spans back down the road a cloaked figure on horseback followed them, horse and rider alike black, dull and ungleaming.

"You're in the wrong franchise! Hobbiton's on the other side of the shelf, between Rosewater and Sounis!"

I get that Jordan had to channel a bit of Tolkien because it was the 80s and that's how you got published, but I have to say that sometimes I think he leaned a little too far into it. At least Myrdraal get weirder as we go.

There was only shadow to see in the hood

If Sanderson had been writing the series from the start, he would have rationalized that a Fade being able to step out of any shadow means it could step out of the shadow of its hood and then repeat the process to gain altitude rapidly, allowing the Shadow to orbitally bombard its enemies when the Fades stopped and fell back to Earth.

Abruptly a stone caught his heel and he stumbled, breaking his eyes away from the dark horseman.

Rand was a shy, awkward, inwardly beautiful teenage girl, just like you.

(Seriously folks, plot-convenient clumsiness is not gender specific and we should call it out in our boy protagonists too!)

Tam shook his grizzled head. “If you say so, lad. Come on, then. A horse leaves hoofprints, even on this ground.”

More proof of Tam being a good dad that even though Rand's talking nonsense, he checks it out. Of course, it wouldn't be surprising if Tam had experience with Shadowspawn somehow. Probably not though, since he was mostly involved in Illian and the Aiel War.

The wind that beat at Tam and him had not so much as shifted a fold of that black cloak.

More on the earth/air duality, with air being the masculine half tainted by the Shadow.

once he had even gone to the very foot of the Mountains of Mist, him and his closest friends, Mat Cauthon and Perrin Aybara.

Two complete nobodies who we'll never hear about again, naturally.

Today, though, the Westwood was not the place he remembered. A man who could disappear so suddenly could reappear just as suddenly, maybe even right beside them.

Maybe even fall on you from orbit!

Though I suppose the earth half of things being unfamiliar now does cut against the symbolism I'm envisioning, but I'll leave resolving that as a Freudian exercise for the reader.

Rand managed a weak smile. Of all things he might want to think about right then, the Mayor’s daughter was far down the list. He did not need any more confusion. For the past year she had been making him increasingly jittery whenever they were together.

18 seems a little late to be hitting puberty, Rand. Seriously, if it weren't for the narration earlier calling him and Tam "two men", I'd assume he was supposed to be 14-16 at this point.

“Remember the flame, lad, and the void.”

This technique actually does kind of work! I've used it a lot during painful dentistry and stuff. Sadly, I'm no good at remembering it when I'm in an emotional state, which is when it would be most useful, but maybe someday I'll learn.

(Probably not.)

Some said the land was too rocky, as if there were not rocks everywhere in the Two Rivers, and others said it was hard-luck land. A few muttered that there was no point getting any closer to the mountains than needs be.

Having recently been exposed to the "The Two Rivers is contaminated with radioactive fallout from the Trolloc Wars" theory, I have to note that this feels a bit like evidence for it even though I don't believe it in general - in particular, the cats having a weird number of toes happens all over the place in real life when they start getting too inbred.

goodwife

This is an interesting word choice! Goodwife (masculine "goodman"; abbr. "goody", from which we get "goody two-shoes") is an archaic form of address that started in the 1300s and died by the 1800s, with the English and Scots using it first and the Puritans later. It referred to women of high social status but non-gentry in Europe and in America we have no clue what exactly the Puritans meant except that it was respectful. Here in EF, the term likely either descends from the days when there were gentry to talk about, or has arisen in the Puritan sense.

Whether or not leaves had appeared on the trees, no woman would let Bel Tine come before her spring cleaning was done.

And here we come to Jordan's worldview again. The Two Rivers folk are meant to be pretty gender egalitarian, but here we see that they have the exact division of labor that the idealized American town does, with women doing interior chores and men doing exterior ones. This is treated as being inevitable, even though of course it doesn't have to be and in most real societies gendered division of labor is only ever a sunny day ideal and abandoned in part or in whole in rougher times like we're supposed to be in now, with spring a month late. Hell, even in a culture with similar gender norms to the west, ("Women care about the house, men do rough work"), you could easily see them ending up dividing things the other way, with women expected to thatch the roofs to maintain their nes- I mean homes and men beating the shit out of carpets because their big manly muscles let them get it done faster. See how easy it is to use sexist logic to justify the exact opposite of what western sexism usually does? (Fun fact: That's because sexist logic is almost completely arbitrary.)

It would be rather nice to see a generic Arcadian farming village that has radically different expectations for men and women while still being superficially similiar to the ideal homestead, really. Jordan missed an opportunity.

Tam spoke of damage from winter storms, each one worse than the one before, and stillborn lambs, of brown fields where crops should be sprouting and pastures greening, of ravens flocking in where songbirds had come in years before.

As a big corvid fan, seeing them always be associated with evil when they're really quite social and intelligent makes me sad.

[Wit] never seemed ready to start over, or to finish what he started the first time. Most of the Coplins and Congars were like that, those who were not worse.

Kind of odd to transition from "Life is hard out here and people who aren't willing to work hard can't cut it" to "Meet the Shithead and Lazyfuck Clans, the inbred hicks." It's realistic to have shittier families in communities, but usually these families in the real world at least have something going for them.

“What are we going to do about Nynaeve, al’Thor?” Congar demanded. “We can’t have a Wisdom like that for Emond’s Field.”

Wait a few days and the problem will take care of itself, Wit. Ten whatever-kind-of-coins-are-legal-tender-here says that he was probably the first to bitch about their village not having a Wisdom the second Nynaeve crested a hill and disappeared from view.

“You try meddling in Women’s Circle business, and see how you like eating your own cooking. Which you won’t do in my kitchen. And washing your own clothes and making your own bed. Which won’t be under my roof.”

Guess Daise married from outside the clan, since she seems like a relatively decent sort. Also note again the 1950s division of labor; plenty of dudes knew how to do "women's work" across history because even if you were lucky enough to always have a mommy-wife (yes that's exactly how icky 1950s-lovers are) on hand and never had to go to war or a logging camp or spend a few years in early adulthood fending for yourself, sometimes Mrs. Mommy would be bedridden from all the exhaustion of being a brood mare with unrealized aspirations and then you'd have to learn how to keep the household going anyway because hiring (or enslaving) a dark-skinned maid to do everything for you wasn't an option.

When they saw Tam, the goodwives of Emond’s Field went on point like hounds spotting a rabbit.

I feel like this is another bit of Jordan's local culture being mistaken for human nature. There's definitely gals who will try to set you up if they know you're single, but there's guys who'll pull the same stunt and neither gender has a 100% attempt rate unless compelled to by their society. Then again, for all of it being presented as the ideal, the Two Rivers community is definitely all about meddling in each other's business and assuming you're too stupid to breathe because you don't have the right kind of genitals, so I suppose it makes sense the women feel like they have to.

Worst of all were those who paused thoughtfully at about that point, then asked with elaborate casualness exactly how old he was now.

Based on later books, Egwene would have been pissed to hear about this. It's probably not canonical in later books though, since the exact details of their relationship change quite a bit in the first three.

Outsiders sometimes found it funny that the road had one name to the north and another to the south, but that was the way it had always been, as far as anyone in Emond’s Field knew, and that was that.

I struggle to think what rock these outsiders must have been living under to find the idea of a road changing names funny. It's the sort of thing that happens when two separate roads are brought together, and I know that the west is slowly decaying, but still.

No one knew when the custom began or why—it was another thing that was the way it had always been—but it was an excuse to sing and dance, and nobody in the Two Rivers needed much excuse for that.

It's a dick joke, ya hicks!

Or possibly a reference to the queen blowing herself up. That seems more dignified.

And to top everything, if the rumors could be believed, a grand display of fireworks was planned for the Green—if the first peddler of the year appeared in time, of course.

Another moment that feels a bit too Tolkien, with the book opening on a celebration graced with fireworks, but hey at least the Illuminators end up having a lot of plot relevance in this story, so it builds well.

At the south end of the inn, away from the stream, stretched the remains of a much larger stone foundation, once part of the inn—or so it was said.

I would guess that the foundation was once the local garrison in Manetheren, or at least a more prominent building for the village mayor. Maybe even a place where Andorians of import might stay, since it would have to be relatively recently ruined to have not been torn apart by the tree roots in the last few hundred years.

“An ill omen,” a scratchy voice announced, “no storks nesting on the rooftops at Bel Tine.” Cenn Buie, as gnarled and dark as an old root, marched up to Tam and Bran and leaned on his walking staff, near as tall as he was and just as gnarled.

Narrative doesn't treat Buie kindly either (and not unfairly), but he's not wrong here. Things are only going to get worse, especially here in the Two Rivers.

Ask the Wisdom when the winter will end, and she walks away. Maybe she doesn’t want to tell us what she hears on the wind. Maybe what she hears is that the winter won’t end. Maybe it’s just going to go on being winter until the Wheel turns and the Age ends. There’s your point.

It's interesting that while Cenn thinks Nynaeve is too young, his fearmongering here is based on the assumption that she is perfectly competent. This double think is quite distressingly common in certain circles.

Rand’s smile broadened; it did not sound as much like fun to him as it would have a year or two back, but Mat never seemed to grow up.

Again, this sequence feels like it works better with Rand and Mat being 14-16, with badger pranks seeming like something more fun at 12-14. I wonder if, a bit like GRRM, Jordan assumed he'd have some time skips in his story that would get Rand into his 20s from a younger age, and then abandoned the concept as the plot continued to demand immediate action.

“Funny how being scared takes you. You think strange things. I actually thought—just for a minute, mind—it might be the Dark One.”

Mat's not too far off!

“The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, beyond the Great Blight, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time. The hand of the Creator shelters the world, and the Light shines on us all.”

Note that it's not quite true: not all of the Forsaken are bound, none of them were bound by the Creator (arguably not even the Dark One), and the Forsaken are all about to break free. Over the past few millennia the Forsaken have really had a glow-up.

“My mother always said the Forsaken would come for me if I didn’t mend my ways. If I ever saw anybody who looked like Ishamael, or Aginor, it was him.”

Considering that Ish is currently serving flaming looks and Aginor is decayed as all hell, this is again not all that wrong.

Now his name came up whenever a washline dropped the laundry in the dirt or a loose saddle girth deposited a farmer in the road. Mat did not even have to be anywhere around. His support might be worse than none.

While I do think Nynaeve and Egwene are too hard on the boy, it's important to remember that this is Mat's reputation at the start of the series: his own best friend doesn't want his public support on a major issue.

Rand stared wonderingly. No one traveled beyond the village by night, not these days, certainly not alone.

Why did Thom come in the dead of night? Taren Ferry should have been a perfectly good place to stop, and with things being like they are you wouldn't think him in much of a hurry to wander among the wolves even though he can take care of himself. Do we get an answer to this?

That alone is worth the expense of bringing him down from Baerlon.

Oh and Thom's been close enough that he'd know all the environmental dangers quite well, so that really just makes me all the more curious.

“You have a head on your shoulders when you choose to use it,” Bran said. “He’ll follow you on the Village Council one day, Tam. Mark my words. He couldn’t do much worse right now than someone I could name.”

We can see here that Rand really is a political thinker, though of course he's going to rise far beyond a simple village council.

“Oh, why not?” Mat said resignedly. “Like your da said, the quicker it’s in the cellar. . . .” Picking up one of the casks of cider in both arms, he hurried toward the inn in a half trot.

And we can see here that Mat really is good to his friends, even if he is a rogue.

And that's pretty much chapter one! Rand and dad walk down a road, Rand sees an incarnation of evil, dad gossips throughout the village, local crotchety old man and scheming youth spread rumors. Like the prologue, this sequence wasn't really particularly adapted by the show. We instead have:

Moiraine giving us a really awkward summary of the plot thanks to executive meddling.

And it's here I should point out how many different reasons season 1 needed to make changes from the book. There's executive meddling, there's plague, there's the inevitable changes from page to screen, there's stuff that is clearly about appealing to the director, there's stuff that seems to be about keeping Rosamund Pike onboard, there's... a lot. And Rafe gets the blame for all of it which is really unfair because properly speaking we should only blame him for the stuff that's about appealing to himself. Blame Jeff Bezos for this one, folks. Anyway then we get:

Liandrin (who isn't even in this book!) and her posse of Rad Red Bad Bitches hunting down... let's pretend it's Gorin Rogad even though the timeline doesn't line up at all, and also Gorin's imaginary best friend. Moiraine and Lan watch from above and decide to go to Two Rivers.

Lots of people who want to make everything about culture wars complain about Obviously Evil Witch Liandrin being Horribly Misandrist In Ways That Sexism Has Never Been Done Before in this scene and I don't have patience for that kind of nonsense either. The scene's kinda rushed I think, and I am even more flummoxed by there being rumors of anything out of the Two Rivers, let alone four ta'veren, but whatever, plot's happening.

Egwene gets her hair braided for the first time (a practice mentioned in this chapter) and then Nynaeve tries to kill her to prep us for the saidar metaphor.

Frankly this is also rushed - a real problem in this episode because they wanted extra time for the premiere but were told to go feed their mothers to the Myrdraal while Jeff Bezos swam in a bathtub filled with 50 dollar bills - and because of all the cuts this episode had for time it feels a bit weirdly out there, but again we really needed to make surrender as literal and visual for TV watchers as possible so I know what's up.

Our closest scene to the books is Rand and Tam taking the old road to town and Rand freaking out about something that he assumes is wolves.

It's very abrupt and Rand is kinda douchey with his "I used to be a sap" line. It also used to be the first scene in the episode (I remember the outrage when people found out they were skipping the prologue) but the execs clearly forced it to be shuffled around. Probably would have been longer too.

Cut to town. People are setting up for Bel Tine and the air is generally happy instead of nervous like the books. Rand and Tam unload in the tavern and then Rand drinks with his friends, Mat, Perrin, and somebody else! She beats Mat at dice, Mat begs his friends for cash to keep carousing while bitching that Perrin is a good husband and accusing Rand of being a sheepfucker, and Egwene arrives with everyone very happy that she lived after the murder attempt.

Generally I think it's smart to trim down the parts of this chapter after the rider even in an episode that isn't desperately trying to fit into an hour, and introducing Perrin alongside Mat is something that works well for TV because it's easier to have interweaving conversations in real time. It also isn't a bad idea to age the characters up some (Rand and crew have to be about 20 now, per Moiraine's comments while watching Gorin get gentled) and abandon kiddie activities like badger pranks.

That said, the generic wholesomeness of the town is gone and that one lady who has spilled booze all over herself needs to slow down, like geez, you don't even know if Egwene is alive yet so why are you clearly already sauced? Hell, why is Rand carousing if he should be worrying whether or not his girlfriend was dashed against the rocks? Why is the mayor just chatting with Tam like nothing is up? That river initiation ceremony cannot possibly have a 100% survival rate and I suspect very strongly that its initial placement in the script was very different and only patched together like this because they didn't have time because seriously.

Oh and this is as good a place as any to talk about the elephant in the room to clear out the wrong sort of people before they get any ideas: no, the Two Rivers is not the bastion of Racial Purity it is in the books (we'll discuss that more in the reread when it starts coming up beyond a single acknowledgement that Rand doesn't look like most other folk here), and fuck no that is not remotely a problem. Even ignoring the sheer difficulty of getting enough extras of any ethnic group (and guess what people, "white" is too broad a group in this context and does not constitute a distinct "look" like the Two Rivers people have, you'd have to do "Polish" or "Irish" or something and then you're still making casting everything else a pain in the arse), the simple fact of the matter is that Zoë Robins is perfect as Nynaeve, Madeleine Madden is perfect as Egwene, Barney Harris was perfect as Mat, and maybe someday Marcus Rutherford will grow on me as an actor or at least get a subplot that isn't stupid or both! Together they cover a very broad range of human ethnicity and getting rid of any of them (let alone *most* of them) for racial reasons would be pathetic and would hobble the show even more than Amazon and COVID already managed to do. Shame on you for suggesting it and good day - good here being a word meaning "I hope you achieve some semblance of enlightenment about how wrong you are, which would be very good indeed, now begone!".

And on that note, I really want to go and play video games now, so I'm off as well. See you next time with chapter two: Strangers!

#wheel of time #robert jordan #let's read #rand al'thor #tam al'thor #mat cauthon #wot spoilers #wheel of time spoilers #wot on prime #racism is stupid and you should feel bad

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cryoculus · 1 year

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— guard dog 05 ⟢

pairing: thoma x assassin!reader

summary: this isn't the first time you've attended a festival at amakane island. but why does it feel so different when you watch the fireworks with a green-eyed outlander?

word count: 5.3k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka

tags: found family, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

warnings: allusions to past trauma

header art cr: ha__ze on twt

masterlist

“Have you been to a festival before, little one?”

Doctor Naoko’s voice was quiet amidst the rain prattling against the windowpane. You glanced at him curiously, sliding the minced lavender melons in a cooking pot with the blunt of a kitchen knife.

“No,” you told him, slightly miffed that he’s still calling you little one. “But Mother and I used to watch the fireworks from Narukami Island before…”

He nodded solemnly. “The Tatarigami.”

“The Tatarigami,” you repeated.

A thick silence filled the room as you watched a bright violet sheen bleed into the boiling water. You’d volunteered to make tonight’s batch of lavender melon soup, given that Doctor Naoko was preoccupied with something else. That being, a sturdy katana given by the village chief.

The samurai who owned it passed away earlier this week. He could no longer resist the effects of the curse, it seemed. But with no family to leave his katana behind, Doctor Naoko insisted that he keep it for now. While the prospect of a sword in the possession of a traveling doctor might’ve been odd, the village chief allowed it.

Now, there he was—diligently wiping the blade’s edge at the dinner table.

“Would you like to see the fireworks someday?”

You turned to look at him bizarrely, stirring the pot a few times before responding.

“And infect the people of Narukami in the process?” you laughed. “Doctor, you know what the rest of the locals say. If you’re born in Higi Village, you die in Higi Village. That’s even more true now.”

Doctor Naoko sighed, sheathing the sword before laying it atop the wooden table. There’s an…indecipherable look on his face as he processed your words.

“You’ve been taking the supplement, right?”

Your brow furrowed, gaze darting to the medicine cabinet near the entrance to his home. Though you couldn’t see it now, you knew there was a vial of that odd, pink liquid that the doctor asked you to test for him. He never told you what it was made from, and you didn’t ask.

Normally, one would be opposed to becoming a lab rat. But you’ve long accepted that one day, you’ll wake up with blood dripping from every orifice—the most definite sign that the Tatarigami had claimed yet another soul in its grasp. Your life had already lost its meaning the moment you’d been born here, and you owed it to Doctor Naoko to assist him with his research anyways.

“Yes,” you murmured. “The nosebleeds have stopped since you put me on the new medication. So have the migraines.”

He hummed. “And the nightmares?”

You bit your lip. He sighed.

“Well, progress is progress.” Doctor Naoko laughed. “If the new medicine proves to be effective, then we can stop giving that placebo to the villagers. We can finally give them a real cure. And maybe…we can take everyone out to Amakane Island to watch the fireworks. How’s that sound?”

Your eyes roved to the cooking pot, watching as bubbles broke through the rich violet surface. You knew that the worst lavender melon soup could cure was fatigue. Knew that Doctor Naoko had been deliberately lying to the villagers about its medicinal properties. But with how his research has been fairing, you decided to humor him. Just this once.

A kind smile inched past your face, hoping that one day, the doctor’s musings would become a reality.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

A few months after Doctor Naoko made the implicit promise, you’d fled Yashiori and witnessed your very first festival.

The experience had been underwhelming at best. As you weaved through the throng of visitors on Amakane Island, you couldn’t quite understand what was so exciting about festivals and fireworks and everything else the doctor had animatedly told you about. Not even the colorful string of lanterns and the jovial atmosphere could convince you.

But then again, your heart was heavy with the weight of grief. You came to Narukami Island, not to indulge in the festivities, but to find work.

Work fit for a scoundrel who let the doctor die right in front of her.

Before he passed, your biological father had been one of the guardian samurai of the village. Though he didn’t live long enough to teach you the art of the sword, you learned the ropes rather quickly once you’d taken Doctor Naoko’s katana and left. It was for that reason (among many others) that you chose to be a mercenary.

You found that building a name for yourself wasn’t as hard as you expected. Your methods weren’t confined to weapons alone. In this line of work, you had to learn about poisons, espionage, and of course, deceit.

There was a time when you’d considered using your…affliction to get jobs done. The Tatarigami curse didn’t play favorites. It spread indiscriminately to every sorry mortal it could get its hands on. If your target was around you long enough, you’re certain you could infect him in no time.

But the longer you took on all those odd jobs, you realized something.

You’d gone through the rest of Doctor Naoko’s supplements when you made the trip to the capital. Of course, they weren’t enough to last you for longer than you’d prefer. You only ever expected yourself to live for a few months more before the curse could fully take effect, but as you took one mission after the other, that’s when you noticed.

The Tatarigami couldn’t chain you to its grasp. Doctor Naoko’s supplements worked.

You were cured.

And that’s how, in spite of your blatant dislike for them, you started frequenting festivals more often. Whether they’re held in Inazuma City or Amakane Island, you’d be there—lingering in the shadows as you watched the colorful fireworks light up the sky.

After all, attending on his behalf was the least you could do for the doctor who’d saved your life even if his had been cut short.

“Milady! Miss Kira! You’re finally here!”

Your thoughts were abruptly derailed as a familiar voice hauled you back to the present. Just like he always did.

“Thoma,” Ayaka greeted her chief retainer with a smile. “I’m glad to see that everything seems to be in order.”

The blond laughed raucously. “Of course. I don’t want you to work any more than you already have. We all know those meetings at the Tenshukaku could be a bit much. Oh, you even brought Miss Kira along!”

You managed a tight-lipped smile. “Pleasure seeing you here, Master Thoma.”

“Miss Kira told me along the way that she’s yet to witness the fireworks show.” Lie. “And that she wanted to experience a festival firsthand.” Another lie. “But ah… As much as I’d love to show her around, I should look for Brother. Have you seen him?”

Thoma hummed in contemplation. “I could have sworn I saw the Commissioner discussing something with Mister Naganohara and Yoimiya at the top of the hill. Would you like me to escort you?”

Ayaka shook her head. “No. I have a more important task for you.”

“And that is?”

The princess smiled in a way that was just a tad bit mischievous before abruptly placing both of her hands on your shoulders.

“To show Miss Kira just how fun Amakane festivals can be, of course!”

Saying that you were appalled to be left alone with Thoma was an understatement.

To your utter disappointment, the chief retainer didn’t even express the slightest hint of refusal once Ayaka had issued the order. Thoma simply nodded along with that stupid, obedient smile of his before the rest of the guards led Ayaka further up the hill. You could only scowl as the princess left you in the dust—only to be tended to by your captor.

“Soooo…” he drawled, that familiar, knowing look settling once more on his face. “I take it that this isn’t your first time witnessing this at all?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just give me the tour so we can get it over with.”

“Hey, the only way you can enjoy a festival to the fullest is if you don’t rush things,” Thoma tutted. “I’m sure a brooding assassin such as yourself wouldn’t have the time for that sort of appreciation anyways.”

“Okay Mister Festival Connoisseur, can we get a move on now?”

The first stop was a takoyaki stall with a handful of visitors crowding the vicinity. The scent of fried squid and smoke filled your nostrils, and you squinted ahead just to catch a glimpse of the man filling orders up front. But before you could even ask Thoma how long the two of you had to fall in line, one of the owners was already calling out to him in welcome.

“Master Thoma, it’s you!” spoke a woman with graying hair. “You’re here to fulfill your promise to offer us your patronage, I take it?”

Thoma chuckled earnestly as he tugged you by the elbow. “Miss Reina, I had no such intention to leave you hanging! I was just waiting for my companion here to arrive is all.”

You eyed him bizarrely but Reina again spoke before you could even put a word in.

“Oho? Companion, you say,” The woman stared at you in a way that you knew was meant to tease. “So, what’ll it be tonight, Master Thoma?”

The chief retainer hummed. “How about…two Amakane specials?

Reina nodded as she scribbled the order before another one of the patrons blatantly shouted hers right next to your ear. The crowd was getting more and more congested and you instinctively leaned away just to grant yourself some more breathing room. But in the process, you accidentally pressed yourself closer to Thoma’s side.

Damn it!

“It's getting quite busy tonight,” Reina sighed apologetically. “How about the two of you look around for a while and I’ll deliver your food once it’s ready?”

You gulped. “That won’t be nece—”

“Sure,” Thoma interjected. “See you later, Miss Reina.”

Surely enough, the chief retainer took it upon himself to drag you to the next booth over without another word. Once you’d gotten away from the rest of the hungry visitors, you shot him a scowl.

“You were totally abusing your privilege,” you hissed, fisting his jacket. “Just because you’re a hotshot from the Kamisato clan, doesn’t mean you get to abuse the people’s kindness like that!”

Thoma shrugged. “It’s not abuse if the kindness is willingly offered in the first place, Miss Kira.”

“You—!”

“Master Thoma!”

Startled, you glanced at the man who addressed Thoma with the same enthusiasm as Rina from the street food stall. He stood right in front of an array of festival masks with varying designs. Fom tengu to oni to kitsune—he had them all.

“Sanden!” Thoma greeted in earnest. “Got any new designs we can get our hands on?”

The vendor, Sanden, nodded. “You’re just in time, actually. My daughter has been going on and on about these two fox spirits from a storybook Miss Yoimiya had given a month ago. Here, take a look! They’re a matching pair.”

He gently lifted two black kitsune masks off the display board—both adorned with metallic patterns that contrasted with their obsidian sheen. One was lined with golden accents, while the other, a glittering silver. Sanden gave the former to Thoma, and the latter to you.

“Interesting,” your companion doled out, studying the craftsmanship rather intently. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the story behind them?”

Sanden smiled. “Well, those two fox spirits actually represent the sun and the moon. The story goes like this: the sun spirit runs across the horizon for hours on end, in a futile attempt to chase the moon. And come nighttime, the moon spirit does the same in hopes of reaching the sun.”

“That seems a little too tragic for a children’s book, doesn’t it?” you asked dryly as you checked out the mask in your hands.

“Not at all, miss.” The vendor shook his head. “Because the two spirits long to be together, they gave birth to the cycles of night and day. Knowing that our realities are borne from the love the spirits have for one another is rather comforting in this age of chaos. Don’t you think so?”

“But that’s just a legend, right?”

Sanden shrugged, one eye dropping into a wink. “We can never really know, and that’s what makes it all the more enchanting.”

“Here.”

Blinking in confusion, you jolted slightly as Thoma plucked the silver-sheened mask from your grasp. But your expression softened when you realized he’d already adorned the golden one at the side of his head. He fastened yours in place, and you were too stunned to protest.

“Whatever tale they’re based off of, masks are a staple in festivals,” he murmured, smiling at his handiwork once he pulled away. Thoma then turned to Sanden. “How much for these two?”

The vendor shook his head. “I almost didn’t make it in time to set up shop, and you helped me sort everything out, Master Thoma. It’s on the house.”

“Master Thoma! Little miss! Special delivery!”

Just in time, a lively looking Reina carried two plates containing a vast assortment of street food. Egg rolls, dango, takoyaki, rice balls, sushi—they were all plated so neatly, you couldn’t believe your eyes. So that was the Amakane special.

“Just like old Sanden’s masks, your food is free of charge.” Reina winked before handing you your orders. “This is the least we could do for the person behind the festival.”

For the first time, you bore witness to Thoma with his face flushing at their words. Dear Archons. You didn’t know it would bring you such relief to know this man was actually capable of becoming embarrassed.

“You lot give me too much credit,” he sighed, nibbling on a stick of dango. “I’m only doing as I’m told, you know.”

“And we’re just thanking you for your hard work,” Sanden chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Well, go on! Find a comfortable spot to eat with your date. Miss Yoimiya’s fireworks show is about to start soon.”

You nearly choked. “I’m not his—”

“We’ll go ahead and do that then~”

Two times. This man just interrupted you two times today. You were sure to make him pay for it later, but for now, you were going to go along with his whims and eat. You’re starved.

In spite of how crowded the island has gotten, you and Thoma managed to secure a table near the venue’s edge. The indistinct noise and chatter from the visitors were still present, but this far off, you could at least consume your dinner(?) in peace.

“So how are you liking the Thoma Festival Experience so far?”

Swallowing a mouthful of onigiri, you blanched at him. “Did you just call this the Thoma Festival?”

He shrugged, poking holes into his takoyaki. “It’s just like everyone said. I was in charge of organizing the whole thing, so it’s only proper to call it as such.”

“...You’re despicable! And everyone gave you all this stuff for free, too.”

Thoma merely responded with an infuriating laugh, which you decided to tune out as you observed your surroundings.

You didn’t know if it was just you but…Amakane Island looked a bit more lively as opposed to the previous times you’d decided to drop by a festival. Despite the fact that spring was still a few months away, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Their petals wafted around gracefully, like they knew exactly how to set up the perfect atmosphere alongside the bright glow of the lanterns.

And then, there were the people.

Before your unfortunate ‘capture’ at the Kamisato estate, you used to avoid ordinary citizens like the plague. Even if the actual plague that had infected you a few years ago had long gone, you still felt…dirty. Unworthy to bask in their company for too long.

Hell, you killed people for a living. If all these visitors knew who you were and what you did, you were almost too certain they’d run you out of town with torches and pitchforks. That’s why you always preferred to work in the shadows.

It was easier that way.

“Hey, you feeling alright, Miss Kira? You look like you’re attending a funeral.”

Glancing up from your plateful of street food, you met Thoma’s viridian gaze. He was gazing at you curiously as he suckled on a dango stick, which made you scoff in disgust. But when a few sakura petals landed between his hair and his headband…

“What are you…?”

You leaned forward, bracing one hand on the wooden table as you brushed the petals away—caressing some tufts of his golden hair in the process. Thoma simply stared in stunned stupor as you took your seat again. But before you could even tease him for his sudden silence, your eyes landed on someone else.

It was Ayaka. Looking even more distressed than she did earlier today. She and the rest of her guards were hastily making their way down the hill, with the Commissioner, Ayato in tow.

“Milady!” Thoma called out, probably having followed your line of sight. “Anything wrong?”

Stopping in her tracks, Ayaka turned to Thoma with a tired smile. “Something just came up at the Tenshukaku again. Hold the fort while we’re gone?”

“...Alright. You can count on us.”

You shot him a look. “Us?”

“Thank you,” Ayaka sighed—the relief in her voice evident to a fault.

Before their retinue could make a swift exit though, you managed to meet Ayato’s gaze in the heat of it all. Those startling blue eyes, almost silver in the moonlight, were the same yet so different from Ayaka’s. In spite of having lived with him for about a month now, you still had a hard time telling apart his expressions.

You couldn’t tell what he’d been thinking at that moment, but it was clear that the Commissioner still didn’t trust you. Not one bit.

And it was awfully smart of him not to, really.

“Gods, I wish those two would catch a break soon.”

In front of you, Thoma had already finished his Amakane special and was resting his head against the palm of his hand—sighing almost wistfully. You couldn’t help but agree.

“Did you know that Aya—ah, milady collapsed on her way to her room earlier?” you asked.

Obviously, Thoma did not know about this.

“What?” he spoke sharply. “You didn’t do anything underhanded, did you?”

You crossed your arms. “She’s obviously well enough to stress about the Tenshukaku meetings again, isn’t she? I’m a criminal but I still have some tact.”

Just as quickly as it came, the alarm on his face melted back into a warm smile. Warm enough to make you feel uncomfortable.

“It’s just as I suspected. I successfully house-trained Inazuma City’s most notorious assassin.”

You flung a ball of takoyaki at his face.

The rest of the night went by in a flash.

Just like with everything else he does, Thoma had a knack for festival games. This one booth held contests for which person could successfully catch the most goldfish in under one minute. Which was no easy feat, given that the nets were made out of flimsy parchment paper instead of, well, actual nets.

You were already struggling with catching one goldfish, yet Thoma managed to fling at least ten into the damn basket.

“That’s Master Thoma for you,” hollered the game master, handing Thoma the prize for his seemingly unbeatable record: a handmade bake-danuki plush. “You can try your luck next time, newbie!”

You grumbled something about rigged festival games and biased judgement.

“Aww, no need to look so down in the dumps,” Thoma chuckled as the two of you strolled up the path—manipulating the bake-danuki’s little plush arms in an attempt to cheer you up. “Mister Danuki will be sad if you continue sulking.”

“Tell Mister Danuki to mind his own business,” you growled.

The chief retainer gasped, placing Mister Danuki’s hand above its chest in mock offense. “That’s a bit impolite even for you, Miss Kira… Oh?”

Glancing at whatever caught Thoma’s attention this time, you feast your eyes upon a lone wooden board with colorful charms strung together on display. The chief retainer slowly made his way closer, and in spite of yourself, you followed suit.

For a moment, he was quiet—green eyes scanning the dreams and wishes the visitors wished to take up to the gods. You didn’t quite understand the prospect of using these charms, in all honesty. From all the news of the Vision Hunt going around, you weren’t sure if the Raiden Shogun was in the mood to grant anyone’s wishes.

Yet Thoma was staring at them like they were the most important things in the world.

“Did you know that milady has never been to a festival?”

You were visibly confused. “What? She was just here a moment ago.”

The smile that tugged on his lips had a hint of sadness in them—an emotion that you never would have associated with Thoma until now. His gloved hand inspected the charms with great care, like he was afraid they would break.

“Well, she’s always in attendance, that’s true. It’s expected of her as the Lady of the Kamisato house,” Thoma explained. “But in spite of all the talk of business, the occasional fan dances she beholds to the people of Inazuma… She’s never been to a festival, the way the two of us have.”

You contemplated his words for a moment, realizing that the moment you had arrived, Ayaka immediately thought about discussing business with her brother instead of enjoying herself.

“Do you…” you began, clearing your throat uneasily, “want to make a wish, then? With a charm?”

Thoma turned to you with a puzzled look, blinking once, twice, before bursting out laughing.

“I didn’t take you to be the type to believe in such superstition, Miss Kira,” he snorted.

Your cheeks heated up. “I-I do not! It just seems to me like you’re the one who’s into this sort of thing… I’m not always an asshole, you know?”

His laughter stops—expression morphing into something calmer. More sincere. Thoma raised a hand and you were instinctively on alert for any tricks he might pull, but all the chief retainer did was brush away the flower petals that got caught in your hair. The same way you did with him earlier tonight.

“I know.”

You didn’t know where you should look. For some reason, his emerald eyes smoldered too much for comfort, and you hadn’t the slightest clue what to reply. But it’s as if the gods had heard your internal cry for help when Thoma finally snapped out of it.

The endearing look in his gaze vanished in a flash, replaced by something similar to panic.

“Move. Quick.”

He seized your hand in his, pulling you along as he led you to the shore. You were about to protest his sudden gesture, but when you glanced behind you, you spotted a couple of uniformed soldiers emerging from the entrance.

Soldiers from the Tenryou Commission.

“You know you don’t have to act like I’m a rebel from Sangonomiya when we’re alone, right?” you huffed, minding your step as Thoma led you further down. “I’ve been pretty…chill with the Tenryou Commission for the past few years.”

Thoma laughed breathlessly as the two of you made it underneath the jutting cliff of Amakane Island—far from the festival, far from the noise.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” he reminded, taking a seat on a mossy patch of rock. You sat down next to him with your heart beating erratically in your ribcage.

He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“And besides, the fireworks show is about to start.”

“The wha—”

The sound of ballistas going off above you nearly scared you out of your wits, until you realized that the source of the noise weren’t ballistas at all. Fireworks of all shapes and colors shot up to the sky at breakneck speed before blooming beautifully into the night. You tilted your head further for a better view—mouth hanging loose as you marveled at the display before you.

That was strange. This wasn’t the first time you’ve watched the fireworks, yet…

Even if the show was still underway, you managed to peel your eyes from the sight. Instead, you affixed your stare on where your hand was pressed against Thoma’s on the cold, mossy rock. You dared to rake your eyes upward.

Unlike you, Thoma had been fully engrossed with the fireworks. A childlike grin played on his lips as the colors flashed before his green, green eyes. But in spite of the bright hues that reflected on his face every few seconds, you couldn’t help but train your gaze on the plump swell of his lips instead.

There it was again. The odd stutter in your heart.

Though the fireworks show lasted for no longer than five minutes, it felt like those few moments had been unspooled from a seemingly endless eternity. You knew better than to cling to a memory as insignificant as this one but…

The warmth of Thoma’s fingers on top of yours. His silly bake-danuki plush sitting comfortably on his lap. The golden accents of his kitsune mask glittering in the night. And the smile he flashed you when he finally caught you staring—

You burned it all in the back of your head, hoping that even if the fireworks lasted mere seconds, the time you spent with him would stretch across lifetimes.

“Yoimiya outdid herself again this time.” He sighed once the show had come to an end, rising back to his feet as he untangled his fingers from yours. You couldn’t help the prickle of disappointment in your chest. “Well, what do you think?”

You ignored his question. “Thoma, why are you so nice to me?”

His smile fell. You pressed on.

“I take it that you’re nice to anyone and everyone you meet but… I’m not just some random girl from the city you decided to take here on a whim,” you elaborated, feeling your throat close up with every word. “I’m a murderer. Someone that’s been hired to kill Lady Ayaka of the Kamisato clan. Yet you’re…doing all this? What’s the point?”

With one hand holding Mister Danuki, Thoma reached up to touch his pendant with the other. It seemed like an unconscious action, but you elected not to ask.

“I’m sure you know I’m not from around these parts, yeah?” he remarked. “I’m an outlander. Born and raised somewhere else, until I found my sorry ass washed up on the shores of Ritou.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I figured as much.”

Thoma chuckled. “That makes things easier to explain then.”

“Even before the Sakoku Decree, the Kanjou Commission didn’t take kindly to foreigners. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the dog tags I’m wearing now. To survive, I had to steal just so I could eat. In short, I was a criminal for quite a while, too.”

“How does this correlate to you taking it easy on an assassin?” you wondered.

“I’m getting there, hold on.” The blond laughed, sitting next to you once again. “I lived like that for a few weeks but then…milady’s parents found me. Her mother is very kind. Even if I didn’t know how to speak the language, she didn’t send me to jail when she caught me nabbing her purse. Next thing I knew, I’d been adopted into the family.”

“Long story short, I know what it feels like to be alone. That kind of loneliness drives us to do all sorts of unimaginable things,” he murmured quietly. “But that doesn’t have to be the end of the line. The late Lady Kamisato showed me as much. And even if Lord Ayato practically threatened to have me executed if I ended up being wrong about you, I still insisted.”

You were silent for about three heartbeats before—

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

The sand began to trickle into your sandals with how heavy your strides fell across the ground. Thoma was hot on your heels as you ditched him, but it wasn’t like you’d been walking fast enough to evade him.

You were just…pissed. Beyond belief.

You reminded him of himself because he used to be a fugitive, too? That’s rich. As if someone loved by the people of Inazuma knew a fraction of what you went through. As if a person who never had to taint their hands with blood could understand.

“Hey!” Thoma called out, seizing your wrist in an iron-tight grip. “You’re still prohibited from wandering around unsupervised, Miss Kira.”

“I’m still going to do it, you know.”

You’d uttered the words so quietly, he barely caught what you were saying. But the chief retainer wasn’t an idiot. He knew what you’d been pertaining to right away.

“Why?”

“Because I was paid to do it,” you said, which wasn’t exactly true. You will be paid was the more accurate wording, but you needed to stand your ground right now.

Thoma nodded slowly. “Okay, but why?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I mean, why would you do that to milady, who hasn’t given you a single reason for you to kill her?” he wondered, sounding genuinely curious. “I’d understand if she was some ruthless tyrant that’s out to seize all the Visions in Inazuma, but we both know that’s far from the case.”

You stared at him incredulously. “...Because that’s what I was paid to do?”

“Hm? So if I gave you six-hundred mora right now to do a little dance for me, you’d do it?”

“Fuck you.”

In spite of it all, Thoma laughed. Laughed right in your face as he used Mister Danuki to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Archons, you have such an unreasonably foul mouth, you know that?” the chief retainer pointed out with a grin. “You’re angry because you think I’m taking pity on you. Is that it?”

You tried to pull your arm free, but he refused to budge. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is,” Thoma insisted, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches away. “As my personal captive, it’s exactly my business to gauge your emotional constitution. I can’t exactly change your mind about taking milady’s life if I’m riling you up every other minute, yeah?”

“But isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” you bit back, ignoring the way his breath fanned your face. “That’s what you’ve been doing since you held me prisoner at the estate, you dumb guard dog.”

He chuckled breathily and you felt the reverberations in what little distance sat between you. This close, you could see just how much more green his eyes could get—entrapping you in a swirl of jade and viridian, until you’ve completely forgotten what you’d been arguing about in the first place.

You most certainly didn’t miss it when those eyes of his flickered to your lips.

“That, I have…” he admitted quietly. “You can even say I’ve taken quite the liking to you, dear Miss Kira.”

Before you could even hope to ask him to clarify, Thoma was already peeling himself away—taking both the warmth of his touch and the smolder in his eyes. The chief retainer was on his merry way, walking back to the festival without a stutter to his step. You replayed his words over and over in a span of ten seconds before:

“What do you mean by that?”

He stopped in his tracks, loose ponytail swaying as he abruptly turned around to meet your eyes. Thoma was silent for only a moment before giving you his reply.

“It means what you want it to mean.” He smiled. “Come on. I’m sure the folks from the Tenryou Commission have long left. We still have a festival to clean up after.”

“We?”

Thoma gave no further response. Your eye twitched.

But you found yourself trailing after him anyway.

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