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The silence of the blackened night had begun to fade, a stillness replaced with tranquillity of rye susurrated by the warm morning air. As the sun peeked its vibrant crest over the horizon a golden hue flooded the land like paint to a canvas. It had broken dawn, and amongst this life giving moment was a timber bullock cart, trudging through the farmlands as it was pulled forth by a muscular, white beast. Only the sound of the heavy, oak wheels carving their way through the dirt could be heard by any onlookers — a list that comprised of cicadas, rabbits, and a lone pheasant looking for its dayspring meal.

There were three occupants who sat within the compound of this old cart; three occupants who remained quiet as they felt the crushing clumps of dry soil resonating through the wagon. The leader of the trio sat at the forefront, head buried deep down within his chest as he rocked sleepily from side to side. A question as to whether or not he was truly an awake individual was only answered by the occasional slapping of his cane on the rear hide of the bull. Without warning, a sudden cockcrow of a cough emanate from his chest — a cause assumingly connected to the rye dust carried by the wind — signalling to the passenger pair it was both a time to awaken, and time for a well deserved drink.

[color=gray]"Here you go, grandpa."[/color] The younger passenger broke the first words of the day as he leaned over with a bamboo flask. The old man took a swig, filling his mouth with cool water in order to suppress the uninvited lurgy. Once satisfied that the miracle liquid had cured his ailment, he passed the container back to his grandson only for the boy to look towards the final cart occupant, gulping nervously with a more than generous proposal. [color=gray]"You can have some too, if you wa—"[/color]

[color=gray]"She doesn't get any—"[/color] gruff, cold, and demeaning. The old man sliced through the act of civil kindness harder than a Hattori Hanzo blade, [color=gray]"—that little thief."[/color]

Uzuki grimaced with humility as she heard the low-blow comments of mockery, curving her lower lip between her teeth and nipping at the soft, fleshy brim. She peered down at the rope around her wrists; those tightly bound wrists that always held the dark desire to landed her in such a precarious predicament. There she noticed a deep, salmon coloured irritation which begun to spread its way across the skin surface.

Opposite Uzuki the young boy sighed softly with a disappointing and obedient [color=gray]"Yes grandpa"[/color] reply; slowly realising that his naive innocence must have gotten the better of him. It just so happened that Uzuki turned out to not be their friend, nor were they her's, and how it all reached this point was through her own, selfish actions.

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The thief landed on her knees, the bottom of her once silky, white dress now tinted in with all the colours of the wet earth. In the dirt before her laid her all too familiar Tanto knife, alone and eagerly awaiting for her much desired companionship. Uzuki turned her head to espy the twain from beyond the rim of her kasa, watching as their wagon made a steady gait toward the hill's horizon. The longer she watched, the more it would dip beyond that thickly defined mound until they were eventually out of sight, already becoming a distant memory for [i]'The Lone Pine'[/i].

In this lonesome whereabouts Uzuki oddly found herself thankful, grateful for a level of hospitality to which she didn't deserve. She staggered her way across the soil to her discarded knife, a surly gift left by the old man before telling her to never return to their land, and clutched the hilt with her clammy hands. With a gentle motion she rolled her wrist back and forth along the downturn blade, fraying the rope edge on the honed steel. With each movement she could feel the pressure easing from around her wrist, the warm circulation gradually returning to her fingers, and the screaming ecstasy of her hands once again being freed.

[color=3CB371]"Where to now?"[/color] the audible thought escaped Uzuki's lips, knowing the solution should have been as clear as the morning she was admiring, and yet the answer she held was as clouded as a dark and stormy evening. The town of Tōtōmi was such a location where she could stay, half a day's travel along the river stream and across the Hana Valley; if only she knew how easy it was to find.

Slowly and surely Uzuki lifted her rattled body to its feet, and with a light pat she dusted off the surface dirt — only leaving the remaining marks which had managed to ingrain themselves into to finely woven fibres. She had looked better before, but at the same time looking worse was also a very real possibility. No one would look twice and with her seemingly natural ability to blend into the crowd, and appearing a tad shabby was the least of her worries.

Another day, another venture. And with more and more mistakes pushing her north it would only be a matter of time before Uzuki would reach the capital of Tsukishima, the famous City of the Emperor.