Sakura could hardly to believe it had been just over fifteen hours since she left the village gates yesterday. Her plan for a relaxing swim in the grove after gathering herbs had taken a drastic turn the moment she caught the scent of blood in the air. At first, she assumed that a spirit beast had dragged a fresh kill into the grove. She had already spent most of the afternoon gathering plants and herbs that she needed to restock. Normally, she would have submitted a request with the village’s traveling merchant, but she enjoyed having an excuse to wander through the woods aimlessly. It was calming, at least until the moment the wounded human collapsed in her grove. Well, not hers exactly. She has been visiting and caring for it since she was little. Nestled near the edge of the Hoshimie Clan’s territory, the grove was one of her favorite places. Before her mother’s passing, they would walk to the grove together, discussing the various flora, wildlife, and medicinal sectets found throughout their clan’s territory.

  Shortly after entering the deeper forest path, Sakura heard boots shuffling across the damp soil. Low voices, grunts of exertion, and the rustle of something heavy being hauled through the underbrush reached her ears. With in moments the scent of iron, sweat, and wild musk reached her. She paused at a fork in the trail to let a hunting party pass. Five kitsune emerged from the trees, weapons slung and eyes alert. They were armed with a mixture of hunting knives, yari spears, and bows. They all looked tired, road worn, but alert. Slung between four of the hunters was a monstrous boneback boar tied to a sagging bamboo pole. The beast was layered with muscle and matted fur, its flanks still streaked with mud and blood. Thick white spines spines jutted from its back like a forest of bone made it easy to identify. One of its jagged tusk was broken and the other still had fresh blood. Though field dressed, the boar likely weighed over 140kg and was nearly eight shaku in length. One of the hunters gave her a respectful, if exhausted, bow as they passed by. “Be careful Lady Sakura,” he said. “Something’s been stirring up the forest beasts. They’re a lot more aggressive than usual” Bowing in return, Sakura smiled, “No need to worry. You’ve earned your rest. Get home safely.”

  The hunter’s warning tightened her chest with unease and a new sense of urgency. Once the party had vanished from sight, Sakura shifted into her fox form and dashed down the path that would take her to the grove. It took her just over an hour to travel the two and a half ri. By the time she reached the grove, her breaths were heavy, her paws damp from the morning mist, Her heart clenched when she didn’t see the wounded man lying near the pond. No…Did a beast find him and drag off the body? Her breath hitched as her ears twitched at the faint sound of slowing breathing. Relief hit her like a wave. With cautious steps she crossed the grove as she stayed alert for anything. He was asleep, his breathing sounded steady, not easy but better. Looking the man over, she started to assess his condition. His wounds are still bleeding, but at least it slowed. Sakura looked around briefly to see if there were any signs of tracks or anything indicating other people. “Hmm… he must have moved on his own.” As she stepped closer, he stirred. Even in sleep, his body responded to her presence. A quiet laugh escaped her lips and flint of mischief lit her eyes. Hmm… if he was able to move under his own power and scowl in his sleep… perhaps he can handle a bit of fun.

  She circled wide around the willow, her bare feet silent against the soft grass. With practiced ease, she shifted into her human form, her long hair whispering softly like leaves in a breeze. Careful to remain hidden, Sakura slipped the strap of the satchel off her shoulder and lowered it to the base of the tree. Inside were her essential tools, Bandages, salves and most importantly, the precious Seven Gates healing pill tucked safely within. She exhaled softly and centered her thoughts. With a graceful flick of her fingers, she wrapped herself in illusion, bending the light around her to vanish from sight. Then pulsing her qi, she sent a whisper directly to the warrior’s ear: “Human… why have you brought death to my grove.” Startled awake, the man sprang to his feet. Pain twisted his face, but his hand flew to the hilt of his sword with the reflex of a seasoned warrior. His voice rang out-—gravelly: “Show yourself!” Silence was the only response.

  Only the soft rustle of willow branches broke the stillness of the grove. Hidden behind her veil, Sakura smirked. She liked this one’s spirit. With another pulse of her qi, she summoned her next illusion. A rolling mist rose from the ground and cherry blossom petals fell from the bare limbs of the willow tree. To his eyes, the tree bloomed as if spring had arrived in a single breath. Her musical laughter echoed around him, followed by another teasing whisper: “So quick to draw your blade. Perhaps you’re more beast than man? Tell me, should I end your path for bringing staining my grove with blood?” The ronin took a careful step back, positioning so that the large tree was protecting his back. His gaze swept along the mist, searching for any sign of his hidden host. Though exhaustion tugged at him and his body trembled from blood loss, his stance remained firm, hand on the hilt of his blade. “Who are you?” he asked calmly. “I meant no offense. I found myself here by fate’s design, not by choice. I know not whether you are a spirit or something else… but I do not wish you any harm. Still, I will defend myself if I must.” He paused then added with a tired breath, “You present yourself as a Kami but joke around like a drunk sailor on leave.”

  Sakura stifled a laugh. Even bleeding and half-broken, the man still had wit. She was starting to grow fond of this man. She studied him closely, bandages stained red, his qi briefly pulsing as he prepared himself for a fight. “If you mean me harm, then let us finish this,” he saidc voice tired but filled with resolve. “I grow tired of such games. If this is to be my final rest, then at least I will die well.” Sakura was both impressed and entertained. Her voice, soft and melodic, drifted through the swirling mist. “Peace, young warrior. You’re wounded… and look ready to die where you stand. Would you like me to heal you?” The mist thickened around his legs and cherry blossoms drifted in slow, lazy arcs. The entire grove felt like a dream—half-sorcery, half-sleep. Seikage winced, not out of suspicion, but from the pain of simply remaining upright. After a long moment, he gave a slow, respectful bow towards the voice in the mist. “This one is Seikage,” he said, voice low and steady. “A ronin with no clan or lord. I was under the employment of a village three days to the south. Are subjugation force was ambushed.” In response, four ghostly balls of foxfire shimmered into existence floating within the mist. Behind illusion, Sakura smiled. Still bowing, even in his current state. I wonder how long I can stretch this game, she mused.

  She projected her voice throughout the mist, “You did not answer me, young ronin. Would you like to be healed?” Seikage let out a slow breath and relaxed his guarded stance. “I do not know weather this meeting is a blessing or a curse,” he admitted. “But if your offer to heal me is true, what price do you ask of me, Kami of grove and mist?” Sakura grinned. A glimmer of silve-white fur flickered through the fog as she briefly revealed her fox form. The foxfire orbs floating above her tails before the mist curled back around her once more. “There’s no need for hesitation,” she said sweetly. “I have already saved your life once—or did you think you bandaged yourself?” At that, Seikage exhaled a faint laugh and lowered himself into seiza, sitting back on his heels and gently clutching his ribs. “Please forgive my lack of decorum,” he said. “If you do not intend to harm me, then I must admit… I can no longer remain standing. I am truly grateful for your earlier kindness.” Sakura’s foxfire orbs drifted apart as she slowly shifted the illusion, making it seem as though she had move position. Let’s see how long it takes him to guess where I truly am, she thought, eyes sparkling with mischief.

  With another qi whisper, her voice echoed gently through the mist, “Tell me ronin named Seikage… how did you end up in my grove? Especially in such a sorry state.” Seikage exhaled a tired breath. “There is not much to tell,” he began. “I was cut down in a battle, left to bleed out. Then fate or at least something like it, brought me to this grove. Where I was saved by a benevolent kitsune” Sakura said nothing. She simply waited for him to say more. A long silence stretched between them before Seikage spoke again, slower this time. “I have been wandering for nearly a decade. Training, fighting… chasing the dream of making a name for myself. Somewhere along the way, I heard the village of Akamura needed warriors for a subjugation force. Bandits were a constant threat—raiding farms, ambushing merchants, even attacking traveling families.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I joined them. Helped train some of the militia. Traveled with them into the hills. I thought we needed more time, but their leadership thought they were ready. Eventually, I agreed and so, we set out. Sadly, we were wrong.” His voice hardened, even as his posture remained slouched. “The bandits were better trained, better organized—more than any of their reports suggested. We were ambushed. The guard captain died early. Morale broke. I do not know if we won or scattered.” Sighing, he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, “the leader ran me through with his spear. I wounded him back. Maybe he died, maybe not. It does not really matter. I woke up, dragged myself away and ended up here. My body gave out.” He shook his head again, as though trying to dislodge the memory. The weight of failure still clung to him.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Sakura was silent as she processed what she had heard. “Thank you for the story,” she said softly. “On the other side of this tree, you will find a satchel. Inside are supplies to help tend your wounds.” Seikage lifted his head slightly, suspicion flickering across his face. “Again, I must ask—what does such kindness cost me? Nothing in this world is truly free.” A quiet, amused laugh drifted from the mist. “If you wish to thank me,” she teased, “you could always drop into a proper dogeza to express your gratitude for my divine benevolence.” Then softer, almost too quiet to hear, she added, “Although… a personal shrine would be nice.” Seikage blinked in disbelief. “A shrine? Surely, you jest. A wounded swordsman is hardly a proper artisan…” “I did save your life,” she said, her voice lilting with playful pride. “After all, I do have the means to heal you. A small shrine seems fair. Besides,” she giggled, “a fox can dream, can’t she?” The mist stirred as the cherry blossom petals parted, briefly revealing a satchel resting against the bark of the willow tree.

  Smirking, Siekage leaned forward, lowering himself into a full bow, his forehead pressed to the ground. “Great Kami of the grove and mist,” he said solemnly, “please continue to show mercy to this broken and humbled warrior. This unworthy one thanks you for your benevolence. I am truly indebted to your kindness.” Sakura laughed, letting her mist thin just enough to reveal her human form for a fleeting moment. Her smile was mischievous and proud. “Take the seven gates pill. Recover.” Her voice shifted into something more formal. It was tone that echoed ritual and duty. “You are not permitted to live here. However, you may remain within my territory—beneath the forest canopy. In return, you are charged with preserving the peace within my grove while you draw breath beneath its trees.” Seikage stared at her in disbelief. Before he could speak, the mist and petals thickened once more. Sakura shifted into her fox form and vanished behind her illusion. The fog slowly dissipated. The cherry blossoms fell in lazy spirals, then faded into stillness. Seikage was alone once more beneath a willow tree that showed no signs of blooming.

  Before the last of the mist had departed, Sakura had already left the grove behind her. Dew clung to her fur as she soundlessly darted between the bamboo. The world felt quieter at her passing. The forest was hushed, as if holding its breath for the wounded ronin she left behind in the grove. A man with no home, no kin and no one to morn his fall. Yet, even in pain, he still bowed. Even the edge of death, he still stood, ready to take the world head on. By the time the terraced fields came into view, Sakura shifted back into her human form. Cool morning air kissed her skin, helping to calm her thoughts. The delicate balance of the grove and Hoshime Clan’s territory had been disturbed. Her choice to not only save, but offer shelter to Seikage would not go unnoticed. She knew that she would need to tell her father and the council elders. The Hoshimie Clan was secretive by nature and did not take such matters lightly.

  The footpaths leading into the village were still damp from the morning’s dew. Farmers and herbal gatherers offered quiet bows as she passed, murmuring respectful greetings. Sakura acknowledged each with a slight nod, her pace steady as she approached the open village gates. Two guards stood flanking the entry, eyes heavy with morning fatigue. One of the guards, a broad-shouldered man in his thirties armed with a yari spear, straightened and gave a more formal bow. “Lady Sakura. You’re back earlier than expected. Is everything all right?” “No need to worry,” she replied, keeping her tone even. “I need to speak with my father. Is he at the hall?” The second guard, a younger woman whose furred ears twitched slightly at attention, spoke up after clearing her throat. “He returned from the northern fields shortly after dawn, my lady. I believe the elders are assembling.” “Thank you, please continue working hard”,” she replied before stepping through the gate. She followed the worn path towards the central pagoda, where she knew that her father and the elders gathered to discuss village matters.

  The central pagoda was weathered from centuries of mist and wind. Its old wood and tiled eaves stood as the spiritual and administrative heart of Hoshimie Village. Sakura crossed the worn courtyard, firming her resolve to get this over with. She only hoped that her decision wouldn’t result in backlash. Villagers bowed in respect as she passed and her ears twitched as at the whispers of a few more curious onlookers that had noted her early return. Few hunters and herb gatherers rarely returned so quickly. Even fewer did so with urgency in their steps. After arriving at the pagoda, Sakura wasted no time as she stepped through the sliding doors into the council chamber.

  The earthy scent of sandalwood and old paper greeted her as she looked around the council room. Inside sat three elders in quiet discussion. Their gazes turned towards her as she slid the door shut behind her. At the head of the low council table sat The Clan Head of Hoshimie, Lord Hoshimie Itsuro—her father. Even seated, his presence was commanding without the need for words. Though his face showed the lines of age, there was a fire in his eyes that had only grown fiercer over time. His long silver-streaked hair was tied in a dignified topknot, and his dark moss-green haori bore the sigil of the clan: a silver crescent moon framed by bamboo leaves. His posture was as straight as the shaft of his naginata, presenting the image of a man not easily swayed by sentiment. Raising his eyes from the document in front of him, he studied Sakura with calm but calculating eyes.

  To his right was Elder Genzō, the oldest of the council elders, his spine bent by age, yet he showed no weakness. His long white beard spilled over his ceremonial robes, and his gaze was sharp behind half-lidded eyes. As keeper of the clan’s records and traditions, the elder was slow to speak. However, when he did, it carried the weight of a mountain. Opposite him set Elder Kaoru, a lean woman with streaks of gray in her braided hair and fingers stained faintly from ink and herbs. She oversaw supply routes, land use, and external correspondences. Out of the three, she was the most pragmatic. Her watchful eyes were already narrowing in quiet suspicion as she took in Sakura’s early return. “Sakura,” Lord Itsuro spoke with a calm baritone, “You return early. Has something happened?” She bowed low, voice clear and steady. “Yes, Father. I had an encounter in the grove that I need to report.” Itsuro raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Raise your head. Tell me of this encounter.” Sakura raised from her bow, “I found a wounded warrior.” Silence fell like a blade and tension rose in the chamber. Elder Kaoru leaned forward slightly. “A warrior? Surely it was not one of ours.” Shaking her head, Sakura replied “No, Elder. He is a stranger to our lands. He was wounded, alone, and barely alive. He was bleeding from a deep wound, and I believe his ribs and legs may be fractured. I administered basic treatment while he was unconscious and left him resting under the willow.”

  Genzō’s brow furrowed, his voice low and deliberate. “You brought a foreign sword into our lands?” “Elder, I did not bring him in,” Sakura corrected. “He stumbled into the grove on death’s edge. I made the decision to treat his wounds so that he did not die within our territory.” “Intentions do not erase risk,” Elder Kaoru said reproachfully. “Our borders are not opened to wanderers for a reason. What if he’s a scout? A bandit? Or worse—what if he is a part of whatever has been stirring the beasts over these past weeks?” With the raised hand, Itsuro brought the room to silence. His gaze met his daughter’s. “Do you believe him a threat?” Sakura hesitated for a moment as she thought before speaking. “No. He bleeds like a man who has already survived a war before fate brought him to our territory. He called himself Seikage, a ronin from the east. If he intended harm, he wouldn’t have collapsed at my feet.” Kaoru’s voice held a note of sharp satisfaction. “I thought you said you treated him while unconscious. How did you come to know his name and where he is from?”

  Taking a calming breath, Sakura shifted her gaze to Kaoru. “I did treat him while he was unconscious. But after he woke, I spoke to him—while remaining hidden behind an illusion. I wanted to learn more before bringing this to the council. Once I had more than simple conjecture, I came here to report it to the esteemed.” Kaoru’s eyes narrowed, but before she could speak Genzō interjected. “You say he is a ronin… but Is he the dishonored kind, or the kind that leaves dishonor behind?” Sakura gaze moved briefly to Genzō before settling on her father. “I believe him to be the latter. He claimed to be a wandering martial artist hired by a village. That village was under threat from bandits—ones that they believed had made camp in the forest.”

  Itsuro studied her in silence for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “He will not enter the village. We will keep an eye on him, his actions will tell us his true intent. The mention of bandits near our territory troubles me. As for the ronin… he may remain within the forest—under your supervision. If he becomes a threat, it will fall on you to ensure the village’s safety.” Sakura bowed again, tension easing slightly from her shoulders. “Thank you. It shall be as you say.” Kaoru gave a reluctant nod. “We’ll dispatch an extra patrol toward the grove and increase security. Just in case.” “See that this does not become a precedent,” Genzō added. “Compassion is a virtue, but it must not blind one’s judgment. See to it that he does not come closer to the village.” “I understand,” Sakura said, straightening. Itsuro leaned back slightly, the faintest traces of weariness flickering behind his eyes. “You’ve always walked the line between heart and duty, daughter. Do not fall too far to one side.” “I won’t, father.” With a respectful bow, Sakura turned to leave. Her footsteps quiet against the polished wood of the floor.

  Ri: traditional measurement for long travel 1 ri is approximately 3.9 kilometers or 2.4 miles.