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"I'd learned that some things are best kept secret."
― Nicholas Sparks, Dear John

Brooms made from straw worked surprisingly well on wooden floors. She opened the paper doors and swept all the dust out of the front room and wiped her forehead with the sleeve of the black yukata she wore. The thing was filthy, she'd have to wash it when she went to do the rest of the laundry by the river. The summer heat beat down upon her head mercilessly. She propped the broom against the wall and closed the door. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the sore muscles, but it did her little good. She must have slept wrong or something.

"Fumi," a soft voice called to her. She turned and a woman in her mid-fifties poked her head through the doorway of the hallway. "You should take a break," she said. Her hair was tied in a bun, a few strands coming loose, and hanging in her face. She looked exhausted.

"Can't," the young woman said, readjusting her ponytail with the leather cord that had slipped down. "There's still work to do. It's the festival season, or did you forget?" She cast a teasing grin to the woman who sighed and her shoulders sagged, knowing a lost battle when she saw one. As much as Fumi wished she could just quit working, the thought of not having things to do made her teeth itch. Otherwise, she'd start having those visions. Fumi shook her head and grabbed the empty bucket that rested at her seat. "There might be customers coming as soon as tomorrow morning. We need to look good, don't we?"

"I doubt anyone will come," the older woman said. She walked into the room and took the bucket from Fumi, setting it back down on the ground. "I appreciate your dedication to your chores, but you're too young to be stuck inside on such a beautiful day, and I know you haven't been sleeping much."

She was quiet and crossed her arms over her chest. "It's...been happening again," she said. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, the images of the previous night flashed across the inside of her eyelids and she opened them quickly.

"Ah, I see," the older woman reached up and cupped Fumi's cheeks. "We do not know why the gods gave you this gift, child, but you should not fear it."

This again? Was the instant thought that ran through her mind. Akira could never understand. "I know," Fumi said, pulling away from her foster mother. "I just wish...that they would spare me the more violent ones." She reached down and quickly grabbed the bucket, already walking out of the room. "I'll take a break after I finish the floors." She heard her name being called but didn't turn around. She turned on the water and put the bucket under the faucet. She watched it fill up, letting her mind go blank. When it was full she turned off the water and squinted, watching a single drop of water disappear into the bucket. An entity that had once been solitary, becoming just another part of a larger whole. She grabbed a rag from the drawer, throwing it into the water.

It was simple work, though it made her fingers ache. It didn't take her longer than an hour to scrub all the floors in the entire inn. She dumped the leftover water into the bushes and sat down on the stone steps. She could see that there were other people still hard at work. There were forty-one people who lived in the village, and Fumi knew each of them by name. They treated her like she'd lived there all her life, though it had only been about nine years by that point.

A child of seven years had stumbled from the woods surrounding the village, no one reported her missing, no one came forward to claim her. The child could not speak the language, babbling desperate nonsense. If anyone had been able to understand her, she would have told them of the black hole that swallowed her up when she'd been on vacation with her family. But there was nowhere for the child to go. Akira had taken her in, taught her to speak, how to use chopsticks, how to put on the confusing clothing that was given to her, even taught the child to play the shamisen to entertain herself.

Then around the age of eleven, the child began to have visions. Small things in the beginning. It wouldn't rain that day, or a cart would pass through the village. It was nothing remarkable until she'd seen a man in her dream rob one of the houses next to them. She'd told Akira who thought the child was just being silly until it had happened a few nights later. It was a tragedy that the entire village felt when the bodies of their neighbors were discovered. Akira asked a lot of questions after that. How? Why? When? But in the end, the woman decided that Fumi should never tell another soul about her visions. Their village lay on the border between Hi no Kuni (the land of fire) and Ta no Kuni (the land of rice fields). All it would take was one nosey shinobi to hear something, and Akira would lose her daughter forever.

But the child grew, without incident, living the average life for someone living in the 'outer villages'. She worked her fingers to the bone, she played music and poured drinks for guests at the inn, she never learned how to read, the most expensive thing she owned was a soft blue obi that she never wore when she was working. Life was simple, it was easy. It was easy.

Her vision the night before had been...strange. She was laying on what appeared to be a medical table, while a man in round glasses spoke casually to her, while he stuck a needle in her arm. Most of his face was cast in shadows, and she couldn't really make out any other features, but Fumi had the feeling she didn't like that man very much. But he was taking her blood. She flinched and covered the spot on her arm where she'd felt the needle pierce her skin.

There were weeds in the flower beds.

She kneeled down and grabbed a few, ripping them out of the ground.

The door opened and Akira stood there, arms crossed over her chest, irritation radiating off her. "If you insist on doing this to your poor mother, why don't you help the guests who just checked in," she said, though it was clearly an order.

"I'm a mess," Fumi said, looking at the dirt under her nails.

"Wash up first, they're waiting to be served drinks." Akira stood to the side and pointed inside. "These are important people!"

"Meh? Who are they?" Fumi asked, standing up and wiping her hands on her yukata.

"They're visitors from Knoaha who are stopping in for the night. Shinobi, Fumi!"

Fumi's face scrunched up in disgust. "Perhaps show them the door instead?" She suggested.

"None of that!" Akira pushed her inside. "Remember, service with a smile!"

"Very well, it can't be helped I guess," Fumi looked over to the closed door where their guests were sat. She looked over lazily at the older woman, lips twitching up. "Bet you're glad I scrubbed those floors."

"Go," Akira said, nudging Fumi towards the room they shared behind the front desk. "Wear the hairpin that Kaito-kun gave you!"

Fumi closed the door. First, she stripped and rolled her eyes when she saw the water already waiting for her. She washed off the best she could without a proper bath. Then she tied her light brown hair up, finding that hairpin she'd been gifted in a basket of her odds-and-ends. She found the light pink Houmongi with white flowers along the bottom that she kept in her closet and made sure it was free of dust before putting it on and tying the obi around her waist. She was finished dressing thirty minutes later and quickly made her way to the kitchen where Akira had the tray waiting for her.

"Really?" Fumi asked, picking it up, swirling the plum wine around in the bottle.

"Yes, remember..." Akira raised an eyebrow sternly.

Fumi stretched her lips wide enough that it hurt. "Service with a smile."

"Good, keep them happy Fumi, they seem like nice young men."

Fumi inclined her head and took the tray, tucking it under her arm, holding the three small cups and the bottle in the other hand. She heard Akira grumble softly and giggled softly. She stopped outside the door and placed to tray on the ground, arranging the cups and the wine. She got down on her knees, in the 'polite' form and knocked on the wood of the door, before sliding it open. The conversation in the room stopped and Fumi stood smoothly, taking the tray with her.

"Good afternoon," she said, a humble smile gracing her face. "I have brought your drinks." They'd already been served food and seemed like they were only about halfway through it. She was a bit worried she'd taken too long. She entered the room, closing the door behind her.

"Wonderful!" A tall man with his headband tied around his neck clapped his hands. "Come, sit by me," he said, gesturing to the cushion to his left. Fumi bowed and shuffled over to him. She put the tray down on the table and tucked her legs under her. She passed out the cups and uncorked the bottle of wine with a little difficulty. "Thank you, dear, now why don't you pour the first round." He grinned at her, putting a hand between her shoulder blades. She tried not to press her lips together, or show any outward signs that she was disgusted.

She poured the drinks for the people sitting across from them first then poured for the shinobi who was still touching her. "Kanpai," the man said, raising his glass. The other two raised their own glasses and the three men threw their drinks back.

"I should get back to my chores," Fumi said, standing up. "If there's anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable, please do not hesitate to ask."

Akria was there the second she left the room a grin on her face. "So," she said, taking Fumi by the arm. "What did you think of them."

"Their leader is the kind of man who would pour his own drink," she said with a roll of her eyes. "The other two didn't talk to me, though I suppose they must have more manners."

"You shouldn't say things like that," Akira scolded lightly. She pressed a little closer to Fumi. "Were any of them...handsome?"

Fumi blushed her eyes going wide. "Mother," she hissed, looking behind her, almost expecting to see one of the shinobi listening to them gossip. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, all I'm saying is you'll be twenty in two years, it's expected that you'd be looking for a husband."

"What? No!"

"Alright, alright," Akira held up her hands, a secret smile twisting on her lips. "But I wouldn't be upset if you left the village to marry a shinobi, so long as you made sure you came home to visit your mother once in a while."

Fumi looked around the room and shook her head. "There are weeds that need to be pulled in the garden," she said walking back to her room.

Her mother stopped her and shook her head. "No! Wait, make a good impression on those men! Even if you aren't interested, they might talk about us to their comrades, they might bring more customers."

Fumi lowered her head and whined quietly. "Alright, then what would you have me do?"

"Go make sure that the rooms are all spotless," Akira said, pushing her towards the stairs. "Just make sure to keep your clothes clean. You're serving dinner to the guests tonight."

Fumi felt her eye twitch but nodded quickly. She could handle Akira's meddling, no problem. But it was still annoying. She wandered through the halls and checked all four rooms, none of which had a speck of dirk in them. She knew that already, but she just needed to keep her mind busy. While she was heading down the stairs, the shinobi were coming up, so she stopped to give them space before passing them. Her eye was caught by the man with silver hair. She couldn't quite place it, but he seemed so familure to her. He must have felt her looking at him. He stopped and turned around. She stared at him for a second and he gave her an easy smile and a small wave. She bowed her head before walking quickly down the stairs.

"Have you been telling lies, Fumi-chan?" A voice whispered dangerously in her ear.

"No," she said, voice shaking.

"I think you have," the voice reached out and grabbed her by the throat, tightening his grip to the point where she couldn't breathe. She was scared, more afraid then she thought she'd ever been in her entire life. "I'll give you one chance to tell me the truth, if you don't, I'll have to show you the error of your ways." He moved his hand and looked at her expectantly. His amber eyes danced with equal measures of amusement and annoyance. She was terrified by what might happen if she tipped the scales one way or the other.

She woke up with a gasp, shooting out of her futon. She put a hand to her chest, her heart hammered in her chest. She looked over at Akira who was still sleeping soundly. She took a few steady breaths, moving her hand to her neck, where she could still feel the phantom grasp of that stranger. What did that mean? Why was she seeing that? Who was that stranger, and why was he strangling her. She looked out the window, watching the sun slowly rise. She got out of bed, folding it up and storing it away. She had work to do.

She wasn't sorry to see the back of them when they left two days later. She was finally allowed to put on her grubby working clothes and get something productive done. "We should go to the market," Fumi said when she saw that they were out of...everything. "Those shinobi ate everything."

Akira poked her head into the cupboards, a frown on her face. "Yes, I suppose I can ask Sora to take you today."

"I don't need an escort," Fumi said insistently. "Saito-san has more important things to do than cart me to a town that's only half a day's walk away."

"Well you may not need one, but it would make feel a lot better if you had one with you anyways." Akira pulled out the money that they kept in a small lockbox. "I'll even give you a little extra money to get yourself something nice if you agree to take him with you."

Fumi tapped her fingers against the counter and held out her hand. "Fine, I suppose it wouldn't be that bad if he trailed along."

Akira chuckled and winked softly. "I'll go ask him then," she said, handing over the money. She left Fumi alone to go across the dirt road to their next door neighbor.

Sora Siato was a man of about twenty-one years old. He always looked tired, which made sense, considering he worked through most of the night. He agreed to Akira's bribery and met Fumi outside the inn, a hesitant smile on his face. He carried himself like a man who was already in his twilight years would. He seemed much wiser than most people who lived in the village. Fumi thought he was an interesting man to talk to. He always had the strangest stories to tell, and Fumi was sure that he more or less made it up as he went along.

"We'll be taking the cart," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. "I have a few things I had to pick up a few things for the farm, so it's nice that we can go together. This trip always seems much shorter when you have someone to share it with."

Fumi smiled and cast her eyes to the side. "Yeah, it'll be nice," she said. Sora had his cart ready to go. He helped Fumi into the seat next to his. He cracked the reigns and they were off. The dapple gray horse huffed and trotted on. Most of the road was shaded by trees, much to Fumi's relief. She wasn't a huge fan of the sun in the summer. So the journey was thankful, much cooler than most weather she'd felt in years.

Kyuri village was much larger than the one Sora and Fumi lived in. It had a bustling marketplace, even a castle. It might have been a fortress, at one point, but the wall had been taken down, and it was open for anyone to visit. Sora and Fumi split apart, agreeing to meet up again after a few hours. They'd have to stay overnight in the village, or they'd be traveling in the dark. Wolves, bandits, rainstorms. There was no end of trouble they could get into if they did that.

Fumi wandered the streets, her basket in hand. She didn't much have a mind for haggling so she paid whatever the merchant asked her to pay. She mostly just bought what would hold longer. Produce and fish were things that Fumi and Akira could buy from the people in the village. But everything else... She turned a can of corn over in her hands, eyebrows frowning. She shrugged and added it to her basket.

"You there," someone called to her excitedly. Fumi turned around and saw an old woman who was selling kyōwagasa. "You look like a distinguished young woman," she said. "You should consider buying one of these."

Fumi knew she was being flattered, but went over to inspect them anyway. They were lovely. Fumi picked up a white one that had a pretty flower pattern on it. "I'd like this one," she said, already handing over the money. The woman thanked her and Fumi left the market to find Sora's cart. It was already packed full of farming equipment. "It's not going to rain tonight," Sora said. "I paid a man to let us sleep in his barn, hope that's alright with you."

"I don't mind," she said. "So long as it's dry, it's fine."

Sora chuckled and lowered his head, snapping the reins forward. The barn was towards the end of town, nestled between two hills, and right in front of a small stream. There were a few cows, but otherwise, it seemed clean enough. The farmer had even laid out blankets for them.

Fumi settled in her bedding and watched Sora who was shuffling around the back of the cart, putting wooden blocks by the wheels so it wouldn't roll away. She turned over and curled up a bit tighter. There was a breeze. She'd let her hair loose and it fell in her face, tickling her nose.

This reminded her of something from Before. Her grandfather owned a farm. Fumi and her brother used to play there. She didn't often think about Before, but when she did, it was like a spiral, and she remembered other things. Songs, movies, books, talking yellow sponges. Sometimes she wondered if her parents thought about her, though they hardly ever crossed her mind. She wondered if they'd be at peace if they knew she was happy. Did they think she was dead? Had anyone seen what had happened to her? So many questions she almost couldn't bear to ask herself.

Sora laid down on a pile of hay a few feet away from her and was snoring almost as soon as he closed his eyes. She envied him. What were his dreams like? Were they as peaceful as he was? She hoped so. If anyone deserved good dreams, it was Sora.

Nothing had changed since she'd been home. Her mother was handling everything alright on her own. "Ah, welcome home," she'd said with a cheerful voice.

"Good to be back," Fumi said with a bright smile. "Any customers while I was away?" She asked, setting the basket of goods down on the counter.

"Actually-" Akira was interrupted by the door sliding open. The man who interrupted seemed surprised, blinking when he noticed Fumi standing there. "Shinobi-san, this is my daughter Fumi," Akira said. She put a hand on her daughter's back and pushed her forward, towards the ninja who smiled politely. "Why don't you show him around town," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"There's...not much to see," Fumi said, looking between the two of them. "If you walked here, I think you've seen it all."

"Indulge him," Akira said, pushing her closer to the shinobi, and pushing the both of them out the front door. Fumi reached to open it and hissed when Akira locked it.

"I...I'm sorry about her," Fumi said, feeling her cheeks coloring slightly. "I get the feeling she won't let me back inside until I show you around."

"Well, thank you," he said. He pushed his glasses up, the light glinting off of them. "How rude of me, I haven't introduced myself." He held out his hand to her. "Kyo Nakamura, a pleasure, I'm sure."

Fumi felt her shoulders relax when she took his hand. His dark grey eyes sparked in curiosity and the two of them pulled away at the same time. "The pleasure is mine," she said. She turned and gestured toward the village. "Let's get going."