[Gima Naoya]

The taste of certain words on careless tongues varied as wildly as the weather from person to person; well, in the case of the hidden rain, it varied a bit more than that. Some words were catalysts for emotion, introspection, rumination. Some had a definition to individuals so corrupted from its original meaning as to be completely alien expressions without context. And, for Naoya, no word more perfectly fit this bloated introduction than ‘family’.

His parents were around, his brothers probably in town, but it had been a long time since the young teen had felt a connection to his blood relatives. When he was still in his single digit years, he’d met some people that taught him family was more than a shared surname, but it was actions. The person he most associated with the word, in its most favorable of uses, was, of course, Sadako.

But she was out of town; on a mission or something else, Naoya didn’t know. All he knew was that, for however long it took for her to get back, he was alone.

Soft clacks of soles on pavement turned to crunching earth and finally to a muted squelch of wet soil as the world and weather changed around the kid who spaced out and scanned what was in front of him only to avoid tripping or bumping into someone. But his aimless wandering had, naturally, led him where he wanted to be most; the Takeda compound.

The accidental journey surprised him, but he only let out an amused exhale through barely parted lips, breath visible in the cold as he craned his neck to marvel at the structure before him. What brief amusement faded and his expression returned to mostly vacant; tired.

It was only due to that brief respite from unbridled teen angst that the boy realized how soaked he was, having been drenched in the rainfall that had sported the better half of his journey here. He considered, for half a moment, dashing into the compound for shelter; the residents would likely recognize his face at least and maybe let him stay out of the cold. But his pride stopped him and, instead, he just stood idle, not entirely sure what course of action to take from there.

Ishikawa Ren

[Ishikawa Ren]

     Ren stepped out of the Takeda compound, warm skin cooled by the air outside. A steamy cloud escaped his lips. He'd come for Sadako, but a training session with Sanosuke had proved far than he'd anticipated for the night. His muscles were sore already, and though he wanted to just collapse into his bed - or even, just spend the night here - he still had a few hours of study planned.

     Droplets started to fall on his damp hair as he stepped out from the shelter of the overhang, running his hand over his mouth to capture some of the warmth. Ren hoisted his katana's bag over his shoulder. He was preparing to head back to his new apartment, but as he stepped down the stairs and looked up from avoiding a large puddle, he swore he spotted his younger brother.

     The black-haired youth, at first glance, had seemed the spitting image of the brother he'd already gone years without seeing - but maybe it was the rain getting in his eyes, or the exhaustion. The words slipped out on their own before he'd had a chance to think. His brother wouldn't be in Amegakure. He'd never even left their home village. But the name came all the same. "Kenji?"

Gima Naoya | 208 words