Kaguta - Or, Ankūro - The Warrior, The Thief and The Killer

3

In the light of stars,
Secrets and dark fears flourish.
Unseen blades abound.
- Bushubō.

They travelled north, the next day, the baby wrapped in a blanket strung around Kō's neck. Although Kiriho cared for the child, loved her and fed her, she could not hold the girl for long before the heartache of losing her own child would well up inside her. She found it difficult, still, to be around a healthy, living baby.

As she walked, her staff tapping the ground in time with her steps, Kō surveyed the landscape around her. For security and in sadness at how the land had changed without the life-giving rain that was as much part of Kaguta life as breathing. The occasional flurry of rain did not dispel the damage the drought had wrought.

To the east, the towering mountains, that made the spine of the island, still held snow upon their peaks, but Kō could see that, even there, the drought had had its influence. The snow caps sitting only at the very tops, while, lower down, the mountains had lost much of their coat of white. Kō wondered if even the sacred peak, Kūmū-Nē, in the Imperial region, had become bereft of its divine snow?

Before her and to the west, the devastation of the drought looked more pronounced. Limp, lifeless trees that had once flourished in many shades of greens and browns, now looked grey and dry. The paddy fields they passed only held small puddles of water, the rice plants weak and small. Soon, famine would come and then the troubles of Kaguta would magnify.

On the way, they passed strings of refugees, carrying their entire worth upon their backs, or in dishevelled, creaking carts. Children hanging on the coats of mothers as fathers struggled, bent-backed, all searching for sanctuary, a respite from the ravages of war that had torn the island apart.

Kō kept a strong grip upon her staff, ready to fight away anyone foolish enough, desperate enough, to try to take their belongings. She knew that she, Kiriho and the child looked healthy. Healthier than the others upon the roads, but Kō had learned, long ago, how to live off the land, finding plants and creatures that few others could stand to eat. If it filled bellies, the taste did not matter to Kō.

"I was thinking of Norūmo, for the child. After the golden cherry blossoms of the Imperial palace." Kiriho adjusted the heavy bag across her shoulders, hefting it into a more comfortable position. "You have seen the Norūmo blossoms, haven't you? Being a noble?"

"Do not speak of such things aloud." Her head snapped around and she stared at Kiriho above the demon mask. Seeing the hurt look in Kiriho's eyes, Kō relented. "Yes. I saw the golden blossoms. They are beautiful. They were. Do not mention nobility, Kiriho. Twitching ears are everywhere."

Indeed, even as Kō berated Kiriho with her whispering voice, she could see several of the refugees turn their eyes towards them. She couldn't tell if they looked due to the sight of a wandering priest carrying a child, or from what they heard. Still, she glared back at those refugees, forcing them to look away. Desperate people would do anything for a cup of rice, these days.

One of the refugees did not look away for long. He carried a huge trellised pack on his back, with everything his family had left to call their own within it. His hands, blistered, reddened from holding the straps of the pack, gripped and flexed as he dithered over a decision. As he turned towards Kō, she lowered her staff, ready to strike.

"Blessed one, forgive me." He bowed low, almost sending the contents of his pack tumbling from within on to his head. That head bobbed several more times. "May I ask? Why have the Divines forsaken us? We are good people. We followed the traditions, gave thanks and praise, rang the bells and sang the chants, yet we no longer have a home. My children starve. What would the Divines ask of us to make penance?"