The village was silent—the kind of silence that crawled under the skin. The firelight that had once danced against the walls was now a handful of dying embers, dim and barely clinging to life. Outside, the air was thick, humid, carrying the heavy promise of a coming storm.
Tatsu lay on his mat, staring at the ceiling. The faint rhythm of his breathing filled the room, louder than the stillness around him. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his mind was far from calm.
Tomorrow.
The Totem Shuryo loomed ahead—a trial of survival, strength, and worth. He had seen the others preparing: their sharp, hardened bodies swinging weapons with ease, their laughter filled with confidence. They were predators. Tatsu, by comparison, felt like prey—a straggler trying to keep pace with a pack that didn't want him.
His hand drifted to the calluses on his palm, a testament not to battle but to mending wounds and grinding herbs. Useful for survival, perhaps, but it wasn't strength. And strength was everything in this world.
His jaw clenched. It wasn't that he lacked courage. No, Tatsu knew he wasn't a coward. What gnawed at him was the question he had no answer for: Why am I different?
He thought of Riku. Strong, fast, relentless. Tomorrow, Riku would be waiting, ready to prove once again that Tatsu didn't belong. The thought made his chest tighten.
But even as the doubts clawed at him, another thought crept in. Survival isn't just strength. His mother had taught him that. The forest didn't always reward the strongest beast; sometimes, the cunning fox escaped where the mighty bear fell.
Still, how could he face the trial without being swallowed whole? He pressed his fist against his forehead, frustration bubbling under his skin.
A soft sound broke through his thoughts—a faint rustling, like a whisper in the stillness. He turned his head.
"Trouble sleeps lightly," came a quiet voice.
Akane stood near the doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of the embers. Her curly horns cast soft shadows across the walls. She moved closer, each step deliberate and calm.
Tatsu sat up slightly, his pulse slowing at her presence. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted.
She crouched beside him, her gaze steady and unyielding. "The mind is the storm tonight," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.
Tatsu hesitated, the weight of his thoughts pressing down. "I'm not like them," he said, his voice low. "I can't do what they do. I don't have their strength. How am I supposed to survive tomorrow?"
Akane's expression softened, but there was no pity in her eyes. "You were never meant to be like them," she said simply. "You're different for a reason."
"What reason?" Tatsu asked, frustration sharpening his voice. "What good is being different if it gets me killed?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took his hand and placed it palm-up between them. "Do you remember the storm?"
He blinked. "What storm?"
"The night the winds howled and the rain flooded the valley," she said. "While others panicked, you found shelter. You kept the fire alive. You made sure we ate." She looked at him, her eyes holding a quiet pride. "That wasn't strength of the body, Tatsu. It was strength of the mind. Of the spirit."
Tatsu's lips pressed into a thin line. He remembered that night, but he had never thought of it as remarkable. He had simply done what needed to be done.
"You are not weak," Akane continued. "You see what others don't. You think, you adapt. That is your strength, and it will carry you farther than brute force ever could."
Her words settled over him like the first rays of dawn breaking through a storm. They didn't erase his fears, but they shifted them, reframed them into something he could hold onto.
"Tomorrow," she said, rising to her feet, "don't waste time trying to be them. Show them what they can never be."
Tatsu watched her move to the doorway, her presence as steady as the mountains. For a moment, the storm in his mind stilled.
That calm didn't last.
When sleep finally claimed him, it came like a wave dragging him beneath the surface. He was pulled into darkness, weightless and unmoored. Stars flickered in the void around him, their light pulsing like the beat of a drum.
Ahead, something shimmered—a cocoon, vast and alive. Its surface was a kaleidoscope of colors, shifting and writhing as if it breathed. Tatsu felt drawn to it, his steps carrying him closer without thought.
The cocoon cracked. The sound echoed like thunder, and from its depths emerged a creature—a beast of impossible form. Its wings stretched wide, feathered and radiant, casting shadows that swallowed the stars. Its eyes, azure green and ancient, locked onto Tatsu's, and he felt his very soul laid bare.
"You are more than flesh," the creature's voice resonated, a deep vibration in his chest. "You are the storm waiting to be unleashed."
Tatsu trembled, his heart pounding as the creature's form shifted—a lion, a serpent, a hawk—all primal, all untamed.
"You will face trials," it said, its voice a roar and a whisper all at once. "Do not fear them. You are the change."
The stars exploded into light, and Tatsu jolted awake.
His chest heaved, lungs greedily pulling in air as if he had been drowning. Sweat soaked his body, his hands gripping the mat beneath him. The room was still cloaked in pre-dawn dimness, but something felt… wrong.
He caught his reflection in the bronze basin by his bedroll. His breath hitched. His eyes—once a dull brown—were now a striking azure green, swirling faintly like a forest river.
"What…?" he whispered, touching his face.
Before he could process the change, he noticed something else.
The room was empty.
"Mother?"
Her bedding was neatly folded. She was gone.
Tatsu threw on his tunic and stepped outside. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of herbs and the promise of rain. He found her by the fire pit, grinding herbs with precision. She didn't look up when he approached.
"You're awake," she said.
"I—" His voice faltered. "You're up early."
She glanced at him, her sharp eyes flicking briefly to his. If she noticed the change, she said nothing.
"Some things don't wait for dawn," she said, tying a bundle of herbs. Her tone was calm, but Tatsu caught an edge of urgency beneath it.
Then she paused, her gaze drifting to the tree line. Her body tensed.
"What is it?" Tatsu asked, his unease growing.
Akane handed him the bundle of herbs, her movements deliberate. "Keep these with you," she said. "And remember—adapt."
"Adapt to what?"
Her eyes locked onto his, and he saw something there—a knowledge she couldn't yet share.
"You'll know," she said softly.
Before he could ask more, she disappeared into the shadows of the forest.
Tatsu stood frozen, clutching the herbs as the first drops of rain began to fall. The storm was coming, but not the kind he had expected.
"What's coming?" he whispered, his heart pounding in the silence.