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SIX, The blind oath
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Late 1980's
HIMARI WAS NEVER one to be consumed by paranoia. She had nothing to truly fear because well, no one knew of her existence so her life had been a dance of mystery. Her story and the mere existence of the Kitsune were confined to whispered myths and legends. She doubted anyone would waste their time researching a forgotten memory to fill the pages of grimoires and folklore. She was an untold tale itching to be discovered. But she had chosen obscurity, even mastered the art of illusion to remain hidden amongst the mortals she surrounded herself with. Everywhere she went, she lived right beneath their unsuspecting gazes.
There shouldn't be anyone looking for her. No one should know who she is or her whereabouts.
So why is it that she felt eyes on her?
An unsettling sensation prickled at her senses, Himari's instincts stirred, and goosebumps littered her skin as a shiver made its way down her spine. It wasn't fear that tugged at her, the Kitsune had no room for such emotion in her heart. It was curiosity with a dose of caution. Whoever decided to prey on her had to have gone to extreme measures to find her despite the barriers of secrecy she had built for security. Their foolish confidence left Himari both intrigued and on defense.
Her eyes swept her through the dark forest, head tilting ever so slightly. She remained composed as her heightened senses tried to detect the threats looming over her but all that greeted her were the soft melodies of leaves rustling against each other.
It was rare she ran into situations where she had to be on guard. Not many had made an effort to shatter the shield she had so meticulously crafted herself. This person—this watcher— had piqued her interest. She acknowledged the challenge presented to her with a faint smile.
Slowly, she gracefully rose to her feet. The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, the silvery luminescence casted ethereal patterns upon her. Her gaze flickered to the only tool she had brought into the forest— A dagger. It laid there in the dirt, her blood staining the edge of the blade. She swiped her hand against the fabric of her dress to erase the remnants of the crimson mark lining the deep cut she created in her palm. She showed no discomfort during this, a stark reflection of the enigmatic power she possessed.
