In the morning the village looked different - less threatening, more lively. The market was already upset, the voices overlapped in chaotic homes. Sellers mixed with prices, metal clicks and fresh bread with a sharp tang of dry fish.
Yami took his hand in his pocket and proceeded from the crowd, scanning his eyes. His naks still suffered from last night. The pain did not bother him. What happened was that, for once, he could not hesitate. He didn't run.
"Maybe I am not as powerful as powerful."
One voice pulled it with his thoughts.
"Yami."
He turned his uncle to see a standing brother standing next to the fruit stall, throwing an apple in his hand. His uncle's face was not as always read.
"I heard about last night."
Yami was waiting for the slander. It didn't come. Instead, his uncle sighed, observing the apple as if he had a great secret.
"You should not go to find a fight, but ..." another toss. A break. "I get it."
He caught the apple. I was hesitant before taking Yami.
"I was not trying to fight," he changed.
His uncle empty nod. "You didn't say you were. Just ... be careful."
No lectures. No disappointment. Just.
Yami turned to the holiday, but before he took a step -
"Hey."
The sound was not familiar. He looked at his shoulder.
A girl was stood there. Short, uneven hair like she has cut it. Clothes worn, clean but old. She didn't smile. He did not thank her. Just watching.
"You're the person from last night, right?"
Yami was filled. "Who asks?"
"Rica." The hand turned into a pocket of her jacket, she bowed a little. "And you are Yami. People talk."
He said nothing.
"Relax. I'm not here to thank you." She looked around the market, then in front of her. "Find out what you are new right now. You don't talk too much