Chapter 1- A Quiet Evening by the Fire

The mountainside was tainted a smoky, gray blue as opposed to its natural golden mahogany. Across from it, at the gate the was the entryway of the village, a young man looked up to admire it.

Peering through his overgrown bangs, he swept them aside to reveal a worn black eye patch, as if this motion might help improve his vision. Meanwhile, his remaining tawny brown eye, slanted to reveal his Japanese heritage, missed nothing as it swept over the horizon.

Despite his obvious visual deformity, he was surprisingly handsome. His face was comprised of strikingly angular features, much like stone or the origami he crafted. No longer a skinny child, his body had been formed from years of daily hiking into a muscular, lithe build. He was of medium height, the only unremarkable aspect of his appearance. His black ponytail and the layers that escaped from it further framed his face and lent him a wild, ethereal air. Like the rest of his family, Kubo had been blessed with unnatural beauty. That's what happened when one was descended from Moon deities.

His gut itched a bit, pulling him ever closer to his hut. His home.

Grandfather was awake.

Pausing in the entryway to catch his breath, Kubo nearly doubled over at the sight before him: Grandfather was kneeling by the fireplace in eerie silence, his glazed eyes hypnotized by the amber flames. However, unlike his mother before, Grandfather's condition was one of stance and poise, not of a cursed amnesiac. "Welcome home, grandson," he said softly.

Although he understood his grandfather was not comatose during the day (or any time at all), Kubo was nearly alwaysperpetually struck by deja vu whenever he caught sight of him in that pose. He was almost always overwhelmed by it. He wished he could ask Grandfather not to- what? Stare into the flames? He'd only chuckle and shake his head in quiet confusion. Rattled, Kubo shook himself and his foolishness away. When would he grow accustomed to his new tenant?

Never, a bitter internal voice hissed.

Ignoring it, Kubo unstrung his pack and settled down beside his grandfather, eagerly absorbing the warmth from the hearth. Stealing a sideways glance, he watched as the flickers were mirrored in his grandpa's creamy eyes. Ever since he'd lost his memories- and his identity with them- Grandfather had been every bit the kindly elder everyone had assured him he was, thanks to the positive memories the villagers had helpfully implanted in him. For Kubo, his eyes were the single link to his aspect as the Moon King. Not that they bothered him so much anymore. Though initially he'd been unnerved by them, Kubo eventually grew to admire Grandfather's eyes and the light that shone inside them, which to him was brighter than any star or fire. Grandfather claimed he couldn't see very well anymore, which was probably true because cataracts were steadily growing over the one that wasn't blind. Yet sometimes Kubo caught him scanning his surroundings with the verocity and keenness of a hawk. Clearly his vision had not dulled completely.

He was not scanning now. "The mountainside was lovely this sunset, wasn't Kubo? Such a beautiful shade of blue," Grandfather murmured. Kubo nodded, to weary to answer verbally. "I made us supper. Your favorite- chicken broth with rice and herbs." Dutifully and gracefully, Grandfather shuffled closer to the fire, which only now Kubo realized had a pot hanging above it. Eagerly, he helped his grandpa set up their dinner. They ate in silence.

"Shall we be regalled by one one of your marvelous tales tonight?" Grandfather asked, his eyes twinkling eagerly.

Shuffling food into his mouth, Kubo shook his head. "Sorry, Grandfather, I can't tonight. I'm too weary- the villagers begged me to perform five stories instead of usual three." Guilt flared up briefly as Grandfather leaned back on his heels, disappointed. It was true- Kubo's storytelling required a lot of energy, sometimes more than he cared to provide. But it was their bread-and-butter. It must be done, and fortunately he loved it.

However, what he had not told Grandfather was where else he'd been- the side of the mountain. He'd flown there, to be precise, courtesy of paper wings. He'd just wanted to see the mountain again, not from afar, but within reach of his fingertips. While his grandfather was aware of his magical abilities- if not of how he'd come by them,- he didn't want him to needlessly worry about his safety. He tended to whenever magic was not used for entertainment. Scaling a mountain would not qualify for entertainment. Though he'd rarely voiced his concerns, like his daughter, Grandfather did not allow Kubo to wander around at night. Kubo was likewise reluctant to be anywhere outside come nightfall. However, in addition to this concern, Grandfather rarely allowed Kubo to be out of his sight for very long, aside from his work in the village. To his annoyance, Grandfather insisted on accompanying him on his daily walks and hikes, which grew increasingly cumbersome, as the elder constantly complained about his aching joints. By the end of their walks, Kubo found himself supporting him on the return journey home. Indeed, Grandfather's advancing age was the main factor Kubo had abandoned his old cave two years ago- the trips to town had grown to be too much. He told himself he didn't resent Grandfather for forcing them to move, but sometimes during a particularly grueling hike, resentment flared up.

Still, life was gentle, life was kind. The villagers had never forgotten how Kubo had saved them all those years ago; he was grateful to them for not only assisting his grandfather adapt to his new mortal life, but for building this cozy house for them. They'd helped him too, by teaching him lessons in forgiveness. Siko, the resident chicken lady, had helped him the most by lending a comforting ear when the nightmares threatened to do him in. Now, in Kubo's mind, Grandfather was no longer the cruel Moon King, murderer of his family. He'd almost become family.

Too bad 'almost' is as wispy as the word implies. It's rarely good enough to last forever.

Something brushed against Kubo's cheek. Kuuubooo, a voice whispered from above. Or was it from his dreams? Determined to return to sleep, Kubo shifted minutely.

Kuubooo, the voice whispered, slightly more urgently. He cracked open his eye by a hair's breath, annoyed. Was Grandfather sleepwalking again? Funny, the voice had not sounded like him. Grumbling incoherently, Kubo reluctantly opened his eye fully, shifted onto his back... and stifled a gasp. Grandfather loomed above him mutely, eyes glowing like two moons.

"Gr-Grandfather?" Kubo whispered, hesitant to move. Grandfather said nothing, only stared down. His expression was far from peaceful- he glowered down with all the intensity of an enraged god, which Kubo remembered belatedly was what he was. But what frightened him most of all were his eyes. He wanted to blame their light on a reflection, but it was pitch black outside, and the fire had burned down to embers. So why were they glowing?

Before he could flee, their light went out, and Kubo saw his own startled, scared face reflected in them. Then Grandfather blinked and started, as if he himself was waking up. "Kubo? What- are you all right?"

"Grandfather? Are you- are you all right?"

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" He scratched his head, the picture of gentle senility. "Though I must admit, I was having a strange dream..."

"Hehe, yeah, me too," Kubo chuckled nervously. "Goodnight Grandfather."

Kneeling for a few more seconds, Grandfather sighed. "Yes, we best get some sleep. Goodnight, Kubo."

The old man fell asleep instantaneously, but Kubo remained fully awake for fifteen minutes. For despite what he'd told Grandfather, he knew he had not been dreaming. Still, exhaustion overpowered his apprehension, and he dozed off.

"And he just stood there, looming over you?" Siko demanded, staring incredulously at Kubo.

"Yes. To be fair, I'm not sure what he was doing, or if any of it was real. I might have been dreaming." Kubo refused to meet her gaze as he absently shuffled the chicken feed around with his finger. The subject of their discussion was off to the side, cheerfully playing with the chickens; he didn't seem to accept they were not cuddly pets, and preferred to be left alone.

"Well, that's creepy," she muttered, glaring at Grandfather. Of all the people, Siko had been invested the most in Kubo's happiness, proudly proclaiming he was a better grandson than her own (who lived two towns away). He suspected she'd never wholly forgiven the Moon King for all the heart ache he'd caused, but he was grateful to her for never showing her displeasure with him. "Was he having a night terror? People can look pretty creepy when they're having one of those; they scream and plead without making a sound."

"Maybe," he trailed off doubtfully. "But he wasn't writhing around. He was just standing there, still as stone."

"Hmm. Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much unless it happens again. Let me tell you, us old people get queer in our advanced years! Meanwhile, help me gather this corn up, it's going to waste with him chasing them around across the courtyard." Kubo gratefully helped her out- anything to keep his mind off of the previous night. Besides, unlike Grandfather, he knew how to catch riled-up poultry.

Later, as they headed home together, the old man paused for a moment and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. "Tell me, Kubo, have you ever experienced a dusk as soothing as this?" He grinned down at his grandson.

In the light, his grandfather looked the same as he had since he'd become mortal- gentle, elegant, kind, serene. Nothing remained of the glowering statue from the night before. "No, Grandfather, I haven't. It's really beautiful, isn't it?"

Pulling him in for a hug, the old man smiled. "Indeed it is." Suddenly he stiffened.

"What's wrong?" Kubo asked, looking around. Grandfather sniffed and wrinkled his nose, as if catching an unsavory stench.

"Nothing, my child. Nothing at all." Yet he steered Kubo with more urgency than before. Wouldn't you, if you heard the wind tell you, Soon you will return to me, and remember. Return to me...