In High Tide | Scissor Seven

Chapter Three

The cobble road curved through the entire village, winding to and fro from house to house as it went. Seven glanced around him as he walked, taking in slanted roofs and moss growing in the gutters. The walls were free from signs of battle. There were no cracks brought on by stray arrows that had just barely missed their targets or any splits in the wood from reckless broadswords. Not a single dent or muddy footprint stood as the result of someone's martial arts practice gone wrong. It was a strange thing to see --- or rather, not see --- in a village of Xuanwu. None of it served to lessen Seven's cautious distrust of the place.

If there had only been one person to direct him down the path, he might've simply disregarded the suggestion and continued on with his task. But every person he passed after entering through the gate simply smiled at him and pointed down the paved road, gesturing for him to continue. 

Without a doubt, there was something waiting for him on the other end of the road. Depending on how sharp its teeth were, Seven might stay in the village for just a bit longer. It had been a while since he'd practiced with something that could actually fight back.

Stones made way for trampled dirt as the road became a neat trail. A lone pavilion stood at the end, its roof and surrounding area just as tidy as the rest of the village was. The white stone structure looked as if it had been scrubbed clean by a hundred pairs of dedicated hands, all working with passion. A single cushion sat in the center of the pavilion, and on that sat a long-haired individual, his back to Seven.

As he got closer, his ears registered a low, melodic hum coming from the man, swaying in the soft breeze as it shifted around the air. It was a tune he'd never heard before, soft and tranquil, smoothly transitioning from its highest notes to ones so low and inaudible that he could barely hear them. 

Slowly, the song settled down, gradually fading away. Seven stopped a respectable distance from the temple and waited.

"I enjoy fruit," the man spoke up. His voice was smooth, slow, as if every word was one to be mused over again and again before it was worthy of being spoken. "Primarily nectarine."

He turned his head, contemplating the trees that surrounded the small structure. With this side angle, Seven could make out actual features --- a straight nose, dark eyes, the slightest dip of his mouth. His hair tumbled down over his shoulder, held back from his face by a thin cord of green.

"I'm not here to make you an offering," Seven said. "The people directed me towards you."

The man stood up, brushing some stray leaves off of his hanfu before turning around to face Seven, his hands clasped before him. "Did they now?" he said pleasantly. "Well, you must be an assassin. Who is your target this time?"

Seven narrowed his eyes just slightly, his grip on his scabbard tightening. The man's gaze was cool and focused, the same watchful one that had followed him as he'd made his way towards the sect's gates.

"No response?" the man said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, that's far better than giving yourself away with a haphazard reply. In every falsehood lies the shadow of the truth."

He smiled and stepped over his pillow, crossing the length of the pavilion that remained. A knife glinted in the light of the falling sun as the folds of his long-sleeved upper garment shifted with his motions, its hilt embroidered with jade threads. A second blade came into view behind the first, but both and however many else were hidden as well disappeared again when he descended onto the grass. Seven stayed where he was, unmoving.

"You seem different," continued the man with a wave of his hand. He strolled down the path towards him. A muscle in Seven's jaw jumped. "You have yet to draw your weapon. Most would have tried to decapitate me already, believing that that would be the conclusion to a gripping mystery that thrives within Xuanwu."