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Kamakura
It was late at night when Kyoko noticed an anomaly in the gardens. She had not found sleep, ever since Fuyutsuki returned, unconscious and near certain death. Her adopted son, Rickon, who had gone by an alias, had stayed awake as well; the child is currently sitting under the sacred tree.
"You should be in bed, you won't grow as tall as Robb if you don't," she remarked, approaching the boy.
"I couldn't sleep. Tsuki is awake, and slowly starting to walk again, but..." The disguised wolf paused when he noticed the surroundings start to brighten.
Looking up, he found the leaves of that giant cherry tree glowing pinkish. The breeze picked up, as an unusual aura filled the air. If the child was to describe it, he would compare this atmosphere to that of a ceremony in front of the Old Gods back home.
"Mr. Hayate!?" gasped Rickon, who quickly went closer to see his former master land on the ground. The giant cro nodded, gesturing for Kyoko to take the sleeping Arya from his back. Dreamfyre flew a short distance away from her master, admiring the surroundings
"And Arya's here too!" the young pup exclaimed.
"Shhh, your sister is resting. " Kyoko reminded him.
Rickon bowed, recalling how much of a terror Arya was when forcibly woken from her sleep. He was not keen on being chased and tickled by his elder sister, especially in Kamakura.
" It's time for bed, littlest wolf, " Kyoko said.
" I'm not tired, " Rickon grumbled. " Besides, I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about that assassin. " I'm afraid if I close my eyes someone will disarm me, Ser Jaime always said the best swordsmen should sleep with one eye open.
" You don't need to worry if I recall, you were the one who pushed that man off the balcony. "
"It was self-defense!" the young pup defended, putting his hands in the air as if he was surrendering to someone.
"You won't understand now, but killing can be necessary for survival. I've had my fair share of murders. "
She was not sure if she should share that with a boy, but it seemed to have taken the fear out of Rickon. The young lad ran off to the palace, his mind now at peace.
He found himself standing by the sacred tree, now a little taller than before. His special sword was tied to his waist, his long-sleeved garb blown in the winter breeze. The brown dye that once colored his hair was gone. He was prepared to leave his fake name behind, but a hand stopped him from touching the tree trunk.
