If she weren’t so tired, Yuriko would have immediately bolted upright and woken up. In fact, she felt herself at the edge of consciousness, a hair-thin line between sleep and wakefulness.
“Get a…your…limi…me…settle...do…”
Even as a shadow, the frustration on his face was clear. What held her consciousness to sleep, what made sure her dreaming was lucid, were goassamer threads that could break at the tiniest movement.
“Listen…have…time…”
Yuriko forced herself to stillness, focusing on the Golden Silhouette and his words. She couldn’t figure out what the missing words were but committed whatever she heard him say to memory.
“Don’t…beer…stu…lish…break…”
Don’t drink beer? But didn’t the Festival Beverage help grow her Animus? Or did he mean alcoholic beverages in general? He didn’t need to worry, after tasting that, she was in no hurry to have even another drop.
“...inlay…skil…fool…don’t…Anima…”
The Golden Silhouette faded away and Yuriko descended into a deep sleep, despite her intentions otherwise. When she woke up in the morning, she felt as though an awl pressed against the back of her eyes, and her skull was hammered on by mallets the size of Fri’Avgi.
The artefact gleamed in the morning sun, sending spots of light dancing on her ceiling. She rolled off her bed, cradling her head in her hands, before she staggered into the bathroom. Her tummy gurgled painfully and it wasn’t from hunger.
Half an hour later, she felt better after doing her business and her morning ablutions. Her memories of the dream were vague and disjointed. The words of the Golden Silhouette felt fuzzy to her though she did remember the two points he wanted her to remember. Don’t drink beer and something about inlaying skills? Animus techniques?
The Golden Silhouette didn’t want her to inlay Animus techniques? Why?
The process of technique inlay was one of the Empire’s greatest secrets and strengths. Countless technique patterns had been created over the years, battle-tested, optimised and strain-tested for use by the citizenry. The wisdom of countless generations couldn’t be wrong, could it?
Oh, what was she doing, letting her thoughts spiral out of control? Couldn’t she ask the Golden Silhouette by using her Facet?
Her stomach growled, this time of hunger. She was tempted to put off using her Facet in favour of having breakfast. And for that matter, wasn’t it already time for morning training? From the light coming from her window, it was already past dawn.
Frowning, she sat back on her bed and pulled out a little bit of Animus from her core and channelled it to her Facet. As soon as she saw the Golden Silhouette she asked a slew of questions.
“What did you mean to say during my dream last night? Since when could you talk? Beer tastes pretty bad! I won’t drink more of it. What did you mean about skill inlay?”
Except…the Golden Silhouette, who was in its feminine form, only started to show the various sword dances she had taught before. Greatsword and dual blades. Not much variation, or at least, nothing Yuriko could identify.
“Can’t you speak? Was it only a dream?” Yuirko’s voice choked with frustration and soon after, the Animus she used ran out and she was back in her bedroom with far more questions than answers.
Was it alcohol-fueled delusions after all? She only had that one cup, a single mouthful of Festival Beer. Was it that strong? None of the men in their house drank beer, or wine, or other liquor. Da, maybe, but Yuriko never saw him do it at home.
Shaking her head, she changed into her training clothes, walked out of the house without paying any mind to Rami or Kato who were probably still sleeping, and dashed out into the roads. The wind blew her hair back as she revelled in the exertion.
She used to hate this particular part of her training, back when she started a couple of years ago. The fatigue that built up, the feeling of losing her breath, the stitches in her side, and the complete drain when she finally stopped, were all deeply unpleasant. At least until she learned to use Recovery, which allowed her to improve so quickly. As long as she didn’t push herself to the extremes of her limits, the act itself allowed her mind to roam freely.
She’d dreamt of the Golden Silhouette twice before: during her coma and when she received Fri’Avgi. It was probably best to treat her dreams of him as something real and an honest attempt at communicating.
For a moment, the idea of someone long dead, an Ancestor, talking to her from beyond the grave for Chaos knows how many millennia ago, both thrilled and frightened her. No beer and don’t inlay?
She had been doing extremely well using the techniques she learned. She could even say that they were instrumental to her survival. She knew without a doubt that if she had only been armed by Empowered Strike during that time, she and her team would have died.
She had no need to immediately inlay any other Animus Technique. She wondered that if she studied other techniques the Golden Silhouette would change it and present her with the better option.
But she’s known the Enhanced Senses technique for a while now and the Golden Silhouette hadn’t given her a better version. So, not all techniques then? Should she consider those techniques as something she could inlay? Or perhaps she should just focus on advancing her Facet?
It wasn’t as if she could use her current Facet in battle--the advantages of having it inlaid were completely lost. She only used it when meditating, after all. Hopefully, the next Facet was more combat-oriented? If only she knew what her ancestor was like then she would have a better idea of what to expect.
Maybe Mum knows?
She shook her head, unable to fully trust her absent parent. She loved her as much as any child would, but that letter really threw her plans out the window.
“Yuri!” Heron’s shout brought her out of her reverie. She glanced behind her to see the boy running to catch up. “Wa...wait!”
She slowed down to let him catch up, surprised at how much speed she’d reached. Heron panted heavily beside her, most of his breath spent on keeping up. With a small sigh, she slowed down even further and waited for him to recover.
After his breathing stabilised, he looked at her with some trepidation, eyes wandering over her face.
“What?”
“Er, about last night…” Heron started mumbling, “I’m sorry.”
“Huh? For what?”
“For the…uhm, the dance.”
Yuriko abruptly stopped, legs flexed just so to completely absorb her momentum. Heron ran a few paces further before he managed to stop. He walked back to her sheepishly while she stared back with narrowed eyes and a fist on her hip.
“What are you talking about, Heron?”
You are reading story Chronicles of the Exalted Sun Child at novel35.com
He scratched the back of his neck. “Uhm, I apologize for touching your hair without permission. Among other things,” he added at a mumble. “I just, er, no. I’ve no excuse.” He hung his head down.
Yuriko shook her head. “I’m not upset about that. It was a bit startling and forward, but no, not really upset.”
“Oh, when you walked off in a huff, I thought…”
“I felt a bit strange,” Yuriko shrugged. “Anyway, is that what's bothering you? I honestly don’t see why it should.” She started running again.
Heron’s face changed from worried, to relieved, and then to a little bit of consternation before settling back to thoughtfulness. Amusing to watch, really.
“I’m going to speed up. Uhm, I have a lot of things on my mind, so let’s talk another time.”
He nodded and she built up speed until her legs ate the paces away and Heron struggled to catch up nearly a block away.
There were few if any pedestrians this hour, probably a result of the festivities that continued until late night. A couple of kids, about eight or nine years old, were playing across the front yard of a house chasing each other with wooden swords. One kid pointed a toy Plasma Lancet at the other and made shooting sounds.
“Bzzzt! Swoosh!”
By the time she was back on West Avenue, Heron was nowhere in sight. The Zorin household was silent, though Yuriko had half a mind to knock on the door and drag her friend out. She headed straight to the backyard as soon as she got home, leaping over the pace and a half tall wooden fence that separated it from the rest of the block.
“Whoa!” Rami yelped when she landed a couple of paces away from him. He was crouched over the vegetable garden, pulling out weeds.
“Good morning, Rami!” she said brightly.
“Morning, big sis! Please don’t do that again. You nearly made me wet myself in fright.”
“Ehehehe.”
Today she decided to train her balance and agility. She picked up a couple of training swords and performed the dance while stepping on little wooden pegs a couple of inches wide that were distributed along the back area of the yard. The pegs were only a few inches tall, but each one was of a slightly different height from the others.
She was soaked in sweat by the time she finished, her arms and legs feeling like jelly. She settled on a seated meditative pose and circulated her Animus into Golden Recovery. Most of it drained into her flesh, leaving her reserves down by a quarter.
Kato was probably still sleeping since no one was in the kitchen. Yuriko washed her hands before preparing breakfast, a lazy spread of sliced bread and cheese. She called Rami and Kato for breakfast but only her younger brother came into the kitchen. She washed her meal down with lavan berry juice, left the washing to Rami, and headed up for a bath. Kato’s door was still closed and oddly absent of his usual snoring.
She spent the rest of the morning with her luggage. Like Kato, she would spend at least three Seasons in Rumiga City. She only had two choices to go here: bring as many clothes as she could or buy some new ones when she was there. Each Academy required the students to wear an overcoat with the school pattern and colours. The rest of the outfit was up to the student though there were guidelines to follow.
Agaza Academy had the strictest set of rules, down to the proportion of sleeves to exposed wrist, acceptable skirt length, and the cut and style of the women’s slacks. Sharom Academy was quite a bit more casual, stipulating only the overcoat and modest clothing. What modest meant in this context wasn’t quite clear though. Aneurin and Lunette Academies provided a colour code to go with the overcoat and nothing else.
“I need underwear,” she muttered, “and casual clothes. Probably a few formals.” She tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Toiletries. Hmm...these dresses mum gave me don’t fit Agaza’s requirements. I’ll have to buy or have some made. Oh, that means I’ll need my savings. I’ll go to the bank later.”
She gathered most of the clothing she would bring and fit them into her luggage. She had two weeks worth of clothing changes, several sets of training clothes, and a dozen pairs of footwear from training shoes to loafers. She’d wear her combat boots on the way. She filled three luggage bags with her things and a backpack to carry with her.
Somewhat satisfied, she looked at Fri’Avgi with a frown. There was no way it would fit in her luggage and carrying it around would attract too much attention.
“I guess I’ll leave it here. I don’t feel comfortable lending it to the Legion, no matter what they’re offering.”
Since nearly all of them would leave, Rami would be alone. Well, Matron Rosie would check in on him every day and Marron would be back every other week. Like all the kids his age, he would spend the mornings on campus.
“Da, come home.” She whispered.
She rubbed her eyes and continued packing her clothes. An hour before noon, she went back downstairs. Kato was in the seldom-used dining room, slouched in his chair and nursing a cup of kaf. Rami was humming a tune while cutting potatoes into wedges. Tubes of sausages were on the counter next to half a dozen eggs.
“You look like you just woke up.”
“Huh, oh. No, just got back…I mean…”
“Back from where?”
“None of your business.”
“Alright. Have you booked our tickets?”
“No, not yet.”
From his curt responses, Yuriko figured he was a bit too worn out with whatever he’d occupied himself, so she just shrugged and helped Rami cook lunch.
“You’ll be fine alone?” she quietly asked him.
“Nope!” Rami said brightly. “And I won’t be alone anyway.”
Giving her brother an odd look, she was nonetheless relieved that he’d kept his spirits up. They finished preparing lunch and were just about to tuck in when the front doors opened.
Marron entered, the dust of his travels still on his coat. There was a smile on his face, and before anyone could say anything else, he uttered just one word.
“Alive.”