Disclaimer: I do not own Noragami.

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Chapter 01:

The Forest of Towering Pines

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Hiyori brushed her fingertips against the tree's leaves. It had only begun flowering a few years ago; this summer, she imagined, it would bear fruit, too. She recalled seeing hawthorn berries—dried—at the market, once, with her father. They had come in different shades, varying between a deep red and a rich–looking amber. She wondered, quietly, hands pressed to the spiny leaves, what color fruit this one would bear.

Her father had once told her that golden berries were the best—and Oda, with all his knowledge of herbs and their medicinal purposes, would know. Still, he had added, whatever it offers is well and good.

Humming, Hiyori crouched down, into the thick blades of tall grass that swayed past her stooped back. She rummaged through the shrub's foliage, 'til she found the scragly–looking bark, and the lumped soil where the roots had taken hold. Nothing looks wrong. She decided.

(But, her father would know better—he checked up on his herbs often enough to know when one was in poor condiition; nonetheless, when he was busy tending to the injured or ill—like today—he would send her in his stead.) Hiyori's mother often fretting over it—I don't like either of you out and about in that forest—but Hiyori chalked it up to her mother's weariness of all things spiritual.

Although… She frowned, standing up. She looked to the sky—a deep, dreary grey. Soon, it would be dark altogether. She pursed her lips, tightening her shawl around her shoulders, and holding its knot with a clenched hand. I should get back before it's nighttime.

Hiyori turned, watching the tall grass sway in the late afternoon blusters. Then, she pushed past it, carefully picking her way through the sea of greenery; then, when the turf began to slope, the hill declining, she watched her footing. She kept walking, down the slope of the hill, 'til she reached the borderline between the clearing and the forest.

Trees loomed overhead—most of them pines, their stalks stripped bare, except for the bark, 'til their very tops, which bristled with thick clumps of needles.

She peered into the deep woods—where the shadow of the day was dull in the clearing, it was dark and harsh in the forest; concealing.

There's nothing to be afraid of, Hiyori told herself, without even knowing that she had been fearful in the first place. Still, she swallowed, braced herself—for what, she did not know—and plunged into the thick of the woods.

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Hiyori walked down the path.

In the woods, all was shadowy and quiet—colors, sound, light, and time itself seemed to have deserted her. All that seemed to breathe was her and the trees, and they were withdrawn companions. All she heard was her feet, thumping down the path. All she felt was the cool air against her skin. All she heard was her breath. All she smelled was the pines.

It unnerved her; the silence and the dark, and how they offered nothing. So, every once in a while, Hiyori was not surprised to find herself glancing without reason. Fearing without reason.

No, she thought, looking ahead, down the path, not without reason.

Rumors had been spreading, as they often did, from the mouths of merchants and within town markets—about a mysterious series of slaughters that had been plaguing towns in the countryside. The victims ranged from drunkards to wealthy denizens, and not motive or pattern could be discerned from the actions. All that was known was that the murders were vicious—rage–filled and unwarranted.

But, even more disturbing was that, every time a culprit was convicted—imprisoned, tortured, killed—of the crimes, another murder would occur, towns over. Another person's name was then cleared; but the public remained in fear—the killer, at large.

People had different explanations for the murders.

It's the times, some said. So much turmoil in the Capital can only lead to chaos here.

No, it's bandits, other claimed. They've been running amok—what's another body, to them?

It's the gods, said some. It's their punishment!

And then there were others—others like Hiyori's mother—who blamed spirits of a different kind. Ayakashi, Chikako said, when all others doubted it. And she believed it, too, with every fiber of her being. There was a faith in her—one that stemmed from fear and distrust. (The fear that made her scold Hiyori for going into the forest—and her husband, for going whenever he was called for.)

Hiyori felt a shiver tremble down her spine. She quickened her pace, soil and leaves crunching underfoot.

While her mother's beliefs were sometimes strangely adamant, no one had ever dared to suggest she was dimwitted for it. Chikako was intelligent for her years, and if something frightened her, it was wise to be weary of it, despite your own opinions.

Even the younger children of the village had gotten wind of the happenings—parents no longer allowed them out, towards sunset. Workers came in earlier from the rice fields every day. Animals were herded in to the stables and pastures. Merchant travel had slowed. Markets were nearly empty.

Everyone was watching—and waiting.

The dim afternoon was beginning to bleed into sunset—the grey of the sky, what little of it Hiyori could see through the thickness of the treetops, was changing to orange as dusk drew near. The dark greens and browns of the forest took on a strange light, as though they were something of another world.

Hiyori tightened her shawl around her shoulder. She bustled farther down the path.

(Hiyori was waiting, too, though—for something to happen. For answer, as much as anyone else. Like village elders were, as they crowded around their shrines, praying to gods for mercy, forgiveness, and protection. Like the children were, as they clung to their parents, who understood no more than they did themselves. Like her mother was, lying on her futon after bouts of spouting on about yōkai.)

And Hiyori feared it like they did, too. Not only for herself, but for her father, too.

Oda's reputation preceded him. (Especially since the many of the regional doctors had left in search of better work and pay, on the battlefields near the Capital.) What he could offer was in high demand, and it had him traveling from village to village consistently.

And Hiyori worried for him, as did her mother.

Bandits were rampant. Diseases were contagious. And with the recent happenings… Travelling was dangerous, especially by oneself.

But Oda refused to cease his efforts. ("I help people," he told Hiyori, ruffling her hair fondly. "The risk is worth the reward.") And Hiyori admired her father's efforts, but it still made her fret.

After all, whoever—or whatever—was lurking was still out and about, uncaught, waiting to wreak havoc. Anyone could be hurt. Anyone could be killed. Anything could—

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—There was the sound of wood, groaning and splintering—too much weight for one bow—above her head.

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She heard it.

Hiyori stilled. The sound of dirt, crunching under her sandals, ceased; and all she could hear was the stillness of the woods, her own breathing, the rapid beat of her heart, and—

—The tree branch, crackling and whining.

Hiyori's breath caught in her throat.

She felt her heart cease to beat, her hands trembling around the knot of her shawl. She recalled the rumors of the killings, and the fear that came that took root in people with it. She felt it in herself, too. It curled and roiled, deep in the pit of her stomach, making her limbs shake and giving her the desire to heave.

But despite it all, she could not bring herself to run, or move, or breathe. All she seemed to be able to do was stare—down the path, through the trees, where the brilliant orange light of sunset filtered down into the forest of towering pines.

She prayed to the gods—if any might hear her—for mercy.

"My, my, my," a voice—male—drawled out, far above her head, "tell me—what's a little human like you doing in a big forest like this?"

Hiyori nearly choked.

—Then, above her, there was the sound of wood cracking and leaves shaking—Hiyori looked up sharply, though all she could see was a pine tree's bow, swaying. A sprinkling of pine needles fluttered down, landing on her head.

There was the sound of thump in front of her.

Hiyori slowly lowered her gaze, and stared in front of her at a—a—

—A boy.

He was, perhaps, a little older than her, wearing a dark kimono that stood out from the pale starkness of his skin. His hair was dark, too, tied up at the back. But, that was not what caught her attention. Instead, it was his eyes, which were a shade of blue that was purer than any she had ever seen before.

"You—" she whispered, throat tight and voice thick, "—You are not a yōkai."

"No," He grinned, revealing white teeth. "Not quite."

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A/N: I'm sort of iffy about this chapter. I know it seems longwinded—but I really wanted to set the backdrop and background, before things kicked in! Hopefull the cliffhanger added some excitement. Look forward to the next chapter, and review to tell me what you think so far! :)