The Nereide had been at sea for months—weathering storms and squalls. Its crew went unbroken by finding relief in their work; clear weather without a single cloud hanging overhead; and the current, calm, gem-like water surrounding them. Some were setting the sails' angle and length, ensuring its speed was just right as it glided along the ocean's surface. Others, meanwhile, checked the cargo hold.
On the deck, a black-haired woman in her late forties took a deep breath of the salty, summertime air and walked to the bow. The ship rolled along with the waves. It was especially easy for her to notice when she put her hand on its wooden railing and stared into the horizon.
"Won't be long now, eh Wakana?"
She looked over her shoulder—and at the younger man who spoke.
"Hm?"
"We're almost to Wallontia. You excited to visit the place?"
"It's not exactly a sightseeing trip for me... Yuan isn't very kind to widows."
"Ah, right, you mentioned something like that before... Sorry for your loss."
She shook her head. Her husband's passing might have been recent, but she had spent enough time grieving. Looking to the future was much more important.
"I'm afraid I can't really make a life for myself where I come from—not alone. I even used the last of our savings to pay for this passage…"
"...And you think things'll be easier in a foreign land?"
"Maybe, maybe not—but I'm doomed in Yuan. My only hope is to try this. I've heard society is very different in Wallontia, so who knows? I may have a chance."
"Well, I hope everything goes okay for you. Starting over in an unfamiliar place sounds pretty daunting."
Wakana simply nodded. There was a long moment of silence before the man shattered it with blunt optimism.
"It's only the end of Quintillis, so the weather'll be fair. Would be a lot worse if you had to figure everything out in the dead of winter, right?"
"Right," she agreed—feigning a warm smile.
• • •
Eventually, the ship docked just outside a small coastal town by the name of Penshaw. Wakana gathered her bags, joined the rest of the departing passengers, and prepared to take her first steps on Wallontian soil.
Disembarking didn't take long. She looked around once she had a better view—and was promptly overwhelmed. Even knowing the culture was different, it was as if she'd been transported to another world altogether.
Aside from the wooden docks, most of the ground was dirt (though there were a few patches of grass here and there). Looking past to the nearby town, there did seem to be actual fields in line with what she had come to expect, though perhaps not as verdant as the ones in Yuan. The buildings in the distance, meanwhile, seemed to be stone with wooden roofs. All were drab browns and beiges—nothing like the colorful bamboo ones back home.
After her brief pause, Wakana chose to move on. She bit the inside of her cheek. Arriving was one thing—but finding somewhere to live and supporting herself were challenges in their own right... The weight of everything suddenly came crashing down on her. She was so burdened by it, she almost didn't hear the sound of crying from somewhere nearby.
"…What was that?"
Snapping back to reality, she began following the noise to its source. About five meters from the docks' exit, she found it: a baby girl just lying in one of the grass patches as if abandoned. What little hair upon the child's head was a striking purple, as were its crying eyes in the brief moments Wakana glimpsed them. She had no clothes or swaddling—and worse: looked like she was barely born.
Wakana immediately started scouring through her travel bags to correct the situation. She reached in, pulled out some cloth, and wrapped the baby up before bringing it close. To her surprise, the child stopped crying as soon as they touched.
"Oh? Were you just lonely, dear? Where are your parents…?"
• • •
The next thirty minutes of asking around, trying to locate the child's guardian, were fruitless. No one came forward—nor did they even seem to recognize the baby at all.
"Looks like you're stuck with me for now," she teased. Then, the woman turned solemn: "Although, you'd think someone my age would know how to care for a child. It's a shame dear Masao and I never did have any before he passed..."
The more she thought about that, the more fated this meeting seemed to be. Wakana had always wanted a child, and now she certainly didn't want to be alone. Another mouth to feed was the last thing on her mind.
…Maybe this was some sort of sign that things would work out in this new land after all?
"Now then... what do we call you, dear?" she inquired, glancing down and contorting her expression in deep thought. Suddenly, it came to her: "How about... Kuroshi? In the old language of my home, it means 'a traveler who delivers messages.'"
The child giggled and reached up for her in response.
"Oh, you like that? Kuroshi it is, then!"
• • •
Wakana did her best to raise Kuroshi as she would her own flesh and blood. It was sometimes a struggle to support even herself—much less a child—but she managed to get by through the years. Some winters, they almost starved. Some summers, it felt like they might cook alive or drown in sweat. In the end, the quaint little home in Penshaw she got was still just that—home..
With her guardian's love and support, Kuroshi grew into a fine young lady. At age ten, she decided she wanted to earn money so they wouldn't go without food as often. One day, she approached Wakana while the latter made crafts to sell—a radiant grin on her face. She held out both hands proudly and flaunted the shimmering coins in them.
"Look, Nana! I got some money!"
"Oh? Where did you get that from, dear?"
"I made it selling berries to the townspeople!"
"...And where did you get those?""
"I picked them all by myself in the forest to the west, Nana!"
Kuroshi beamed with confidence—but the enthusiasm wasn't mutual. Wakana's expression shifted to a worried one.
"Oh dear... What color were they?"
"Uh, kind of a dark purple? Why?"
"Do you still have any?"
"Mmhm."
The girl put down her earnings and produced a small handful of the berries. Wakana took one, turned it in her fingers, and scrutinized it for a while… then sighed.
"These are elderberries. They're poisonous."
"What?" Kuroshi's initial shock immediately turned into dejection. "D-Did I do something wrong…?"
"To an extent. You should have told me before going, for one. It's very dangerous in the forest by oneself." The older woman nodded as if reaffirming her point. "Then, handling strange berries you're not familiar with... If whoever you sold those to doesn't prepare them correctly, they could get very sick."
Kuroshi was completely deflated—and started to tear up.
"B-But, I didn't—" The girl cut herself off, then swallowed and continued as best she could. "You work so hard, and there's so little food, and you always eat after me… I just wanted you to have money for more."
Wakana wrapped an arm around Kuroshi. Her hand rested between the child's shoulder blades, then rubbed her back in slow and soft circles.
"You had good intentions, dear. We'll make it right."
In response, the girl nodded. Wakana continued, "Please promise me you'll be more careful next time. If you want to help, just ask me first so I can keep you safe."
"Okay, I promise."
"Now, let me show you a trick I learned when I was your age. It should make these safe to eat…"
Wakana taught Kuroshi many things like that. The girl went on to help around the house, then earn money by doing small chores for their neighbors. It wasn't a luxurious life by any means—but it was a happy, simple, peaceful one.
• • •
All things must eventually come to an end, however—and their time together was no exception. Shortly after Kuroshi turned fifteen, Wakana suddenly died. Her life had been long. It had been full of tragedies, triumphs, and everything in-between… but her daughter grieved all the same.
It was normal for most people to be sufficient by their teens, but that didn't give the young woman solace either.
Eventually, the time came. Kuroshi resolved to do everything she could by herself. First, she cleansed the body with clear water—then dressed it in ceremonial garb for burial rites just as she'd been taught.
There was a small vigil later that night. Customers and friends gathered, and Kuroshi tried to celebrate her "Nana's" life with them. It was hard—somehow too fast and too slow. By the time it was her turn to add dirt to the burial mound, she hesitated.
How could words possibly capture the way she felt?
Still, the girl tried.
"Goodbye, Nana. I'll never forget you."
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