“So, what’s your name mister?” 

“Raiten.” 

“Oooh. What’s that mean?” 

“I don’t really know to be honest—” 

“Cause my name’s Dandy, after some flower or something.” 

“Oh. That’s nice I gu–” 

“I hate flowers. I want to be named after something cooler. Like… like Lightning!”

“I don’t think that’s a common name.” 

“Why not?” 

“I guess it's just not something one names their kids after.” 

“Aw. Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Damn.” 

“Dandy,” the older man chides. She looks at him, confused. “Don’t curse.”

“But you curse all the time, Grandfather.” 

“It's different when I do it.” 

“Why? Is it because you're  old?” 

“Why you little brat—” the man pulls the little girl in with one hand and ruffles her hair teasingly. She starts giggling. I watch on from the back as the forest canopy clears away and the redness of leaves is replaced by a clear blue sky, pocked with light, wispy clouds. 

The wind rustles long, yellow stalks of grass. I rest my head on the side of the cart and watch the valley pass us by. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a strange movement in the wind. Something flowing. I squint and make out a … carp? A wind spirit carp fish swimming along with a school of its brethren. It is quite a strange sight. The older man notices my wandering gaze. 

“Aye the oceanic and lake spirits love this valley,” the man murmurs. “I’ve seen my fair share of spirit gatherers hunt wind stingrays here.” 

“Huh,” I respond. 

“You’re not really from ‘round here, are you?” 

I shake my head, reaching my hand up to graze the underside of a passing wind carp. When I touch its underbelly, I feel the ghostly sensation of softer skin, hidden in the guise of wind and spirit magicks. The carp swims away rapidly in the air, trailing after its brethren. 

“You are right uh, sir…” 

“Name’s Erot.” 

“Right. I’m not from here, Erot, though I’ve seen this valley from afar many times.” 

“Is that so?” he says. 

I consider telling him of my previous dwelling, but I forgo the notion. I do not know these people, friendly as they may seem. We are simply strangers. 

I think about my next moves for a while as Erot discusses some trade terminology with a bored-looking Dandy. 

The Boar Ranges are brutal mountains dense with spirits and monsters. It is the homeground of the famed Yamakiba clan, or so I’ve read. My limited education is quite the hindering factor now. At times during my imprisonment, I’d request for books or writing sources. Kai only granted those requests after I slew bigger monsters or packs. And he never gave me anything too substantial. 

But now I am free. Free to read whatever I want. I hope to the universe that this village has a library. 

…

Takemeadow lays nestled in the dip of a valley, next to a river that flows directly from the Boar Ranges. It has wooden walls and farmland outside, people tending to crops and wives gathering water in basins with their children. 

It feels like flowering village — one that aspires to become a city. As we approach from the main road, militia men in leathers give us a familiar nod to enter through the gates. 

“You’ve been here often?” I ask. 

Dandy nods. “It’s our home.” 

Oh. 

“I thought you were traders.” 

“We are,” Erot says, whipping the reins. “But, we need to stock up some extra supplies for winter. So at the behest of our mayor, we took to other villages and traded.” 

“Ah. I see.” I was wondering why they would’ve come back with some barley, when it seems they obviously have the means to grow it for themselves. If winter is approaching, my timetable runs thin. I need to decide what to do soon. That’s… annoying.  

The town itself is quaint and comfy, dense with houses of brick and wood. Men weave rugs on the street, women carry apple baskets over their heads, children kick sacks of seeds between them in a game. 

Dandy looks at them with wide-eyes. Erot rubs her apron-scruffed hair: “go on then, me and the lad will take care of unloading.” 

“Really?” she asks, stomping her feet in excitement. 

“Yah, just this once. But next time, you work double-time you hear?” 

“Oh thank you Grandpa!” She reaches up and gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaping off the wagon, chasing after the kids to play. 

I smile at the sight. “You're a kind man,” I tell him. 

He scoffs. “Ah. I’ve seen monsters be kind to children — it is no big deal. The truly good men are people who are kind to all, ugly adults included.” 

We both chuckle at that. 

He stops the cart near the center of the town, where there lays a dirt square and fountain well. We get off and start hauling the hay towards the large, black-wooded horse pen. 

The hay is both heavier and lighter than I thought. For some reason I expected my innate strength built over the years to make this an easy task. However, it seems I still need some meat on my bones to make it so. Regardless, I do well enough in Erot’s eyes, passing along the hay to the bald and bearded horsemaster. 

“Mayor wants to see you Erot,” the horsemaster says, nudging his head to the tallest building at the edge of the square. It is a tavern with warm-lit insides and a bustling atmosphere around it. Music lilts from its windows. 

“Why? I’ve done my task, ain’t I?” Erot asks. He seems perturbed by the summon, making me all the more curious as to whom this mayor might truly be. He sounds like an intimidating man. 

The horsemaster furrows his bushy eyebrows and beckons Erot closer, to whisper. I don’t hear what they say, but it leaves Erot quite perturbed. 

Erot makes a grunt, pulling his hair back into a salt-and-pepper ponytail. He looks at me and notices, for once, a deeper scar embedded in my neck. It's as if he takes stock of me once again, re-evaluating my uses. It is a violating sort of gaze, but I let it pass. 

“You a warrior, kid?” 

I shake my head. He sighs. “I ain’t trying to prod or anything and lying won’t do you much good.” 

“I’m not a warrior,” I reaffirm. Which is technically true. My previous occupation was enslavement. 

“Yah, whatever it might be, can you join for a bit longer? It would be nice to have someone else around while speaking to our ‘beloved’ mayor.” 

I consider for a moment, my mind harkening back to the fact that I’m already wasting time if I want to pursue my vengeance. And do what? You need proper clothes to venture into the Boar Ranges and you’ll definitely need to be properly fed. If you want any chance at vengeance, you have to be patient. Make a plan. Don’t just pursue it blindly. 

Afford some distractions. They will give you time to think and time to prepare. 

I nod. “Sure.”