She awakened slowly, carefully. Her eyes eased open and she forced herself to notice the comfort, tranquillity, and safety of her surroundings before trying to make her disoriented mind focus on how she'd gotten there.

That's right...I was saved. This is a house in Highland.

wolf

She rose to a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the bed, took a moment to collect herself. Had she eaten? Yes, she recalled, Nanami had given her something to eat, and drink, and a place to rest...She still felt weak. Tomo stood up in the darkness of the dojo, and was pleased to find that she needn't lean on the bedpost for support. She wondered if Nanami was asleep as she took a few trial steps away from the bed.

So far, so good. I feel better than I have in...in the last little while.

She followed her body into the main room of the dojo, to the central area; a sparring pit of some kind, which served to explain why Nanami was so good with that odd three-part-rod she'd used on the road. On shelves on the floor and racks on the walls were arranged all sorts of weapons, from the common to the exotic. A faint smile danced around Tomo's lips.

My father would feel like a little boy in a candy store if her ever saw this place. Her fingers brushed across the hilt of a katana; her finger came away dusty, ever so slightly. I wonder why Nanami lives her all alone?

father

Her eyes wandered, and her hand closed unconsciously around the shaft of the spear she'd noticed earlier, guided by a voice she could no longer hear.

It's not as if I can stay here forever...as soon as I'm well enough, I'll work off my debt to Nanami, and then...

Then what? It's not as if you can take care of yourself. You've shown that pretty well in the last week, haven't you?

She shifted stance easily, sliding the spear's haft up beneath one arm, cutting edge angled towards the ground, slipping casually into the first form. Her breathing slowed, steadied.

She started to move, the shining blade of the spear cutting through the gossamer bands of the moonlight, entering the first and simplest of the kata that her father had ever taught her, as soon as she was strong enough to hold a spear and stand up at the same time. She caught herself getting lost in her own liquid movements, trapped in the hypnotic synergy of weapon and wielder. Sweat began to bead on her brow, on the palms of her hands.

Look at you. "Wolf"? You're pathetic.

She was doing fine. The blade of the spear began to move faster as she stepped up both her speed and the difficulty of her movements. Her bare feet scuffed momentarily, awkwardly, on the sandy floor, but she didn't stumble or fall. Even so, her father wouldn't have been pleased with her.

You couldn't even save your mother.

The spear flashed as it caught the moonlight once again, and Tomo once more increased the speed and intensity of her motions. She'd gone about as far as she could without access to the paired double-hooked spears that her father had been trying to train her with, so she merely increased her speed once more. The faster and harder she moved, the less need there was for her to focus on anything else; the less need there was to actually be something beyond the motions of the blade at the end of the spear's haft. She could hear the sound of the cutting edge slicing the air where it passed, a soft silver whisper that was the only sound she let herself hear.

You should've been the one to die.

The weariness struck Tomo as suddenly as a hammer's blow to her stomach. Her foot slipped once more, and her sweaty hands lost their careful grip on the spear. The point of the blade dropped, scraping across the floor, and then it's momentum, born of speed, carried it out of Tomo's hands and both fell. Tomo landed hard on her side as the spear clattered to the ground; the air was driven from her lungs by the impact. She bit back a curse and could feel the hot tears of shame and failure spring into her eyes. She dashed the tears away with one hand.

The spear lay where it had fallen in the dirt, an accusation, a testament. She rose to her knees, and, suddenly numb, stared at the weapon where it rested, the cutting edge of the blade encrusted with the dirt it had collected when it fell.

"Clean your weapon, Tomo."

She sighed. "Yes, father." She reached out and pulled the spear to her where she kneeled, mindful to make as little noise as possible; as it was, she was thankful that the noise hadn't awakened Nanami or the little girl. She liked Nanami, even though she'd only known her for a few hours: she seemed so confident, so assured, so strong. The last thing she wanted was for Nanami to be witness to the most recent of her many failures.

they know

How could they not? At least they... She drew a shuddering breath. At least they took pity on me. There was a cloth lying at the side of the pit; she took it up and began to polish the blade of the spear with it. I wasn't always so weak.

I used to understand life; it used to make sense. She rose and placed the spear back on the shelf where she'd found it, polished to look as if it had never been used. She let her fingertips linger on the blade.

It used to be easier.