Chapter Text
When will the skies finally calm?
When will the thunder fall silent and the rain relent, no longer washing away our harvest and our once-beautiful gardens?
When will the lightning stop flooding our homes with its cold blue glare, frightening our children?
***
The estate of Lord Haruno stood atop a high hill, overlooking Lake Onuma, its grounds set apart from the peasants’ huts by towering stone walls. Yet even this well-guarded stronghold was not spared—hashika* had found its way inside. The lord’s only daughter had taken to her bed, her body covered in red spots, burning with fever.
Through the heavy rain, like a shadow, a massive black crow cut across the sky. It landed heavily on the tiled roof, gripped the ridge with its claws, and peered into the half-open window.
Inside, the grieving mother sat by the bedside, gently wiping the girl’s face with a damp cloth and trying to feed her.
“My little blossom… Mother prepared your supper herself. Try just a little,” she pleaded softly, lifting a morsel to the girl’s cracked lips with delicate lacquered chopsticks.
The only answer was a faint whimper and a hollow, tearing cough. Tears welled in the child’s eyes, tangled in her lashes, slid down her temples, and vanished into the hollow of her slender neck.
Lady Haruno lowered the chopsticks back into the bowl, carefully wiped her daughter’s tears, and turned away so the girl would not see her own.
Hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor. The sliding doors rasped open, and a maid, nearly stumbling, dropped to her knees at the entrance.
“My lady! My lord has returned with a physician from the capital!” she gasped, breathless.
“Thank the gods… at last,” the mother whispered, pressing her face into her hands.
A moment later, two men entered the chamber. Lord Haruno, a silver-haired man in fine hakama, brushed the rain from his silk robes with a careless motion. Behind him, slightly hunched, an elderly physician in court attire hurried in with his medicine satchel and immediately knelt beside the girl.
He rolled up her sleeves, revealing thin wrists, examined the redness on the skin, then pressed his fingers to her pulse.
Lady Haruno rose and stood just behind her husband, waiting for the physician’s verdict.
The old man remained bent over the girl for a long while. At last, he straightened, composed himself, and spoke:
“We are in time, my lord. She can still be saved. I will prepare the same medicines I used to treat the imperial family,” he said, bowing his head with quiet respect.
Lady Haruno let out a long breath of relief and broke into tears, burying her face against her husband’s shoulder.
Startled by her sobs, the crow took flight and soared high into the sky.
***
For a long time, it flew over the black waters of Lake Onuma. Thunder roared above, and lightning tore through the night sky. At last, the crow reached the opposite shore, settled on the windowsill of a dilapidated hut, and tapped dully with its beak.
A poor woman glanced toward the sound, fear flickering in her eyes. Shaking her head, she murmured under her breath:
“A harbinger of misfortune…”
She bent over the child again, laying her rough, work-worn hand against his burning forehead.
“It will be all right, Sasuke. Your father will return soon.”
She rose and gathered what little food she had—pitiful scraps of fish and a handful of unpolished rice. Carefully pushing aside the fishing gear and woven baskets hanging from the low ceiling so she wouldn’t strike her head, she made her way back to the boy.
“Mother… leave me…” the boy whispered hoarsely.
His eyes rolled back, and his body went slack.
The dishes slipped from her hands onto the straw mat as she seized his shoulders in terror, shaking him—but his body only swayed limply in her grasp. She broke into sobs, clutching him to her chest as if she could hold his fading life in place.
Outside, the storm howled. Lightning split the sky open, flooding the hut with a cold, lifeless glow. The rain lashed harder, yet the crow did not leave. It tapped against the wooden frame again and let out a sharp, piercing caw.
The door burst open with a heavy thud, letting wind and rain rush inside. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on the threshold, a straw hat shadowing his face. His dark robe clung to his body, soaked through.
The woman turned, lowered her son onto the mat, and rushed to her husband, clutching at his collar.
“My dear, why are you alone?! Our son is dying!” she cried.
“There’s no physician in the village… he’s gone to the next settlement,” the fisherman said through clenched teeth, lowering his head.
The words hung in the air. Lightning struck again, and the sudden flash carved the parents’ faces out of the darkness.
“I can’t endure another loss…” her voice broke. “He’s our last hope…”
He looked at his son’s motionless body and bit his lip. What could he do? No one stood on his side. Physicians treated only those with wealth and status. The poor could do nothing but wait for death.
All he had was his old boat—to carry his son’s body and see him off on his final journey.
And not a single god would hear his pleas!
The man roughly tore his wife’s hands from him and shoved her aside; she fell to the floor. He strode to his son, lifted him into his arms, and turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?” the woman asked, her voice tight with dread, watching as he carried the child out into the downpour.
She staggered to her feet and ran after him. The rain lashed so fiercely that the world beyond felt empty and alien—thunder rolled over the lake, and waves crashed hard against the shore.
Her wet hair clung to her face, the rain blinding her. Stumbling, she reached the shoreline but lost her footing and fell to her knees. All she could do was watch, through blurred, wavering shapes, as her husband stepped into the dark waters of Onuma, clutching their son to his chest.
When the raging lake rose to his chest, he lowered the boy into it. The water was dark and restless, like the sky above.
“You already took my eldest son! Please, don’t take this one too! Spirits of the water, you helped me feed my family—help me once more! In return, ask anything!” the father pleaded, staring into the black surface.
Thunder answered deeper, heavier than before. Lightning struck the water, and for a moment the lake flared with a dead, ghostly light.
Above the child, crows began to circle.