Meeting and Farewell
Marie awoke at dawn, just as the sky began to blush with the first rays of the sun. The room was filled with a deep silence, broken only by the soft chirping of birds, as if they were whispering morning secrets to each other from the shadowy garden. Slowly, she rose from bed, stretching lazily as she brushed off the last remnants of sleep, and approached the window. Before her lay the lake, its smooth surface like a serene mirror reflecting the sky, painted by the tender sunlight. She opened the window, allowing a fresh breeze to sweep into the room, filling her lungs with the promise of a new day.
Dressed in a simple yet elegant kimono, Marie made her way to the temple to begin her morning duties. The temple, nestled among blooming gardens, was surrounded by ancient trees that lent an air of peaceful majesty. The sacred lake mirrored the brilliance of the morning sky, absorbing its energy and calm. It was here, among the ancient walls and the soft rustle of the wind in the trees, that Marie found the strength to carry her through her countless daily tasks.
As she entered the temple, a faint, barely noticeable scent of incense greeted her. Marie set about her usual rituals: lighting candles, preparing offerings, and arranging flowers carefully at the altar. But soon her attention was drawn to a mysterious stranger standing at the entrance, cloaked in black. His face was hidden beneath a hood, and his figure appeared tall and sturdy.
“Welcome, my Namé is Marie,” she greeted him, bowing her head slightly. “How may I assist you?”
The stranger slowly approached the altar, lowering his head.
“I need help,” he said quietly but firmly. “I’ve come from afar seeking healing for my family. They say help can be found here.”
Marie studied him closely, sensing that she stood before a man burdened with deep troubles.
“I will do everything I can to help,” she replied. “Please, tell me more about your situation.”
The man began his story. His father was suffering from an incurable illness that was draining the life from him. In desperation, the man had searched for help everywhere until he heard of a temple by the lake, where miraculous herbs and prayers could bring healing.
As Marie listened, she felt a wave of compassion and a strong desire to help rise within her.
“We will do our best to heal your father,” she said. “Bring him here as soon as you can.”
The man thanked her and left, leaving Marie standing in thoughtful silence. Her mind returned to her temple duties, but now they were accompanied by a new concern—how to help the stranger and his father.
Later that afternoon, Marie made her way to the marketplace to assist the Torizu family. She had prepared tea from rare herbs that they planned to sell. However, when she arrived, Torizu was nowhere to be found. His parents, Kazuna-sama and her husband, Take-sama, were manning the stall, busy selling their goods.
Take-sama was an imposing figure with a sturdy build, shaped by years of hard labor. His weathered, stern face was framed by thick black eyebrows that often furrowed, giving him a perpetually stern expression. His deep-set dark eyes peered out from beneath heavy lids, sharply observing everything around him as if piercing through each customer. His nose was straight and broad, and beneath it were thin lips, rarely seen smiling. His short black hair, tinged with gray, was neatly combed back, revealing a high forehead lined with deep wrinkles that spoke of constant reflection and concern. Take-sama’s strong, calloused hands were a silent testament to a life accustomed to physical work and problem-solving. His appearance and demeanor commanded respect and a bit of fear from those around him.
“Good afternoon. Where is Torizu?” Marie asked, glancing around in confusion.
“He went off on some important business,” Kazuna-sama replied, avoiding any explanation.
Marie felt a slight disappointment but quickly composed herself. She offered to help and began serving tea, drawing in customers with its aroma and her stories of the herbs’ healing properties.
Evening crept up unnoticed, and Marie returned home to change into her yukata. The light blue garment, adorned with delicate patterns of blooming sakura branches, accentuated her grace. She completed the look with an obi sash and carefully arranged her hair, fastening it with a small hairpin shaped like a flower.
As she set out for the festival, the sky had already darkened, and lanterns lit the way, creating a magical atmosphere. Marie walked with anticipation toward the meeting place, hoping to see Torizu. But he was nowhere to be found. Time passed, and still, he did not appear.
She stood by the shore, watching as people sent lanterns into the sky, making wishes as they floated away. Her heart clenched with disappointment, and her eyes filled with tears. Marie felt abandoned and alone, as if the world around her had lost its brightness and meaning.
“Why didn’t you come?” she whispered, gazing at the lanterns drifting through the night sky, carrying away her dreams and hopes for the meeting.
Marie sank down onto the sand, her eyes fixed on the flickering lights that dissolved into the endless darkness. In her heart, she felt that something important had slipped away from her life, leaving behind only the shadow of lost hopes.
The next day, Marie immersed herself once again in the duties of the temple. But thoughts of Torizu continued to trouble her. She made her way to the lake to collect water for healing brews. The gentle waves lapped at her feet, reminding her of the eternity and continuity of life. The lake’s water always brought her a sense of peace and strength, which she sorely needed at this moment.
“Where could he be? He promised! And today is a special day! Fifteen years of friendship. How could he?” Marie thought aloud. “Or perhaps something has happened? I must hurry to the market stalls. Maybe Kazuna-sama knows something! Yes, she will explain everything to me!”
And with that, Marie left the water vessels by the lake and hurried to the Torizu family’s stall.
But when she arrived at the marketplace, she found that the stall was closed. She knocked, but no one answered.
"You can stop knocking," came a raspy voice from the neighboring stall. "They've left the island and headed north."
"But why so suddenly?" Marie asked, bewildered. "They always let me know before they sail. And they haven't even sold all their goods."
"Who knows?" the old man in the nearby stall shrugged.
Marie ran to the port, desperate to find anyone who could tell her more about Kazuna-sama and Torizu. She asked everyone in sight, but all she got were indifferent shrugs.
Feeling lost and confused, Marie wandered aimlessly along the waterfront. She was deeply hurt, yet concern started to creep into her thoughts—what if something had happened to them?
She stopped at the shore, gazing out into the distance.
"I just have to wait for them to come back. That's it. Then I’ll ask them," she thought, trying to reassure herself.
“Marie! There you are, you little troublemaker!” came the voice of her mother. Marie turned to see her parents hurrying toward her.
Her father stormed over and slapped her across the cheek.
"The temple is closed! Visitors have been waiting for hours! Where have you been wandering?" he shouted angrily.
“Out chasing after those northern traders again?” her mother scolded. “I told you, you shouldn’t be dealing with them!”
“Torizu and I are best friends!” Marie blurted out. “And they vanished suddenly. I was worried!”
“They do whatever they please! They lost the crystal after the lands broke apart and now live carefree, forgetting the traditions of our people! Damn Kayamas from Chisima! They can’t be trusted! They have their heads in the clouds! What else could you expect from that race! Get back to the temple now, and stay away from the square!” her father roared.
Marie returned to the temple feeling overwhelmed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, making it impossible for her to focus on the rituals. Her heart was torn between sorrow and fear for Torizu, her best friend. She couldn’t believe that his family had just disappeared, leaving her without any explanation and not even saying goodbye, despite all the help she had given them.
After finishing her duties, she walked out into the garden and sat on a stone bench, watching the branches of the sakura trees sway gently in the breeze. Memories of Torizu and their friendship flashed before her eyes, bringing fresh waves of tears. Her grief felt endless, as did the tears that kept falling from her sad, weary eyes.
Night fell, and an exhausted and emotionally drained Marie returned home. She collapsed onto her bed, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest as she sobbed once again. Her heartfelt hollow, and she didn’t know how to cope with the deep sense of loss that consumed her. Marie gazed up at the twinkling stars, hoping that somewhere, Torizu was looking at them too and thinking of her. Eventually, she fell asleep, worn out from the weight of her emotions. That night, she didn’t even feel like bathing in the lake.
The next morning, Marie awoke with the first rays of the sun. She sensed that today would be different. After dressing in her kimono, she headed to the temple, where she once again found the mysterious stranger, already waiting for her by the gates.
"Good morning," Marie greeted with a gentle bow.
"Good morning," he replied. "Could we speak in the garden?"
Marie nodded and led him to a picturesque corner of the garden, where vibrant flowers bloomed, and a small stream trickled softly. They sat on a stone bench, and the man pulled back his hood, revealing his face. He was a striking young man, with a deep, sorrowful gaze. His coal-black hair cascaded over his shoulders, framing a noble face with sharp, well-defined features. Thick eyebrows and deep-set brown eyes gave him a mysterious, magnetic air, as if he carried the weight of the world's secrets.
His skin was pale, almost porcelain, as though he wasn’t entirely human. His high cheekbones and sharply outlined lips completed the look, making his face appear both divine and remarkably modern. Thin, lightning-like tattoos traced along his muscular arms and neck, peeking out from beneath his clothing.
"My name is Wright," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "I would like to ask for your help."
Marie looked at him intently, sensing the gravity of his request.
"Tell me what I need to do," she answered, willing to help.
"I cannot bring my father here," Wright continued. "But I know you can make a tincture from healing herbs. It will surely help him."
"What kind of tincture?" Marie asked.
"The 'Shori' tincture, made from sage, ginseng, and the Angel’s feather, which only grows by your lake."
Marie paused to think. She had never made such a tincture before, but she couldn’t refuse Wright. She understood that his request required both skill and knowledge, but she was ready to take the risk.
"Very well, I'll help you," she said, a little uncertainly. "I’ll gather the necessary herbs and prepare the tincture."
Wright nodded gratefully and took her hands in his.
"Thank you, Marie! I will come tomorrow to collect the tincture. Your kind heart is my last hope."
Marie blushed slightly and gently withdrew her hands from his.
She escorted Wright out of the garden and then made her way to her family’s library, located in the far wing of the house. The library was a spacious room filled with tall shelves lined with old books. Many were bound in leather and decorated with gold embossing. It had always been a quiet, secluded place. As a child, Marie loved to come here, seeking knowledge and inspiration.
She walked along the shelves, recalling where she might have seen the Namé of the tincture Wright needed for his father. Marie remembered stumbling upon a book about healing herbs and remedies. Her fingers glided softly over the spines of the books until she found what she was looking for—a weathered book with a faded cover titled Healing Elixirs and Their Compositions.
Opening the book, Marie quickly flipped through the pages until she found the recipe she needed. It described the properties of sage, ginseng, and the Angel’s feather, along with the proper method of preparing the tincture. She wrote down all the necessary ingredients and steps, ready to start. Just as she was about to close the book, she heard a faint rustling sound from the corner of the library.
The noise was so soft, like a tiny mouse scurrying across the floor. Intrigued, Marie walked over to the old cabinets in the far corner. These cabinets were covered in a thick layer of dust, and their wooden doors looked heavy and cracked with age. One of them bore a large, rusty lock that appeared ancient and long forgotten.
Marie tried to open the cabinet, but the lock was too strong. She searched the shelves and drawers nearby, hoping to find a key, but her efforts were in vain. The cabinet remained sealed, and Marie was left wondering what might be hidden behind its doors. But for now, she had another task—to prepare the tincture for Wright.
Leaving the cabinet and its mysteries behind, Marie took the book and headed to the lake to gather the necessary herbs. The lake, surrounded by the garden, always seemed like a special place to her, where nature offered its finest gifts. She knew she could find sage and the Angel’s Feather here—a rare plant that only grew in this area. Ginseng, on the other hand, was more common and grew at the foot of Komiyama.
With a basket in hand, Marie carefully gathered the sage leaves, taking care not to damage the plant. Then she made her way to the foot of Komiyama, where she dug up the ginseng roots, placing them gently into her basket. The last ingredient was the Angel’s Feather—a plant with unusual, long, feathery leaves that earned it its Namé. It grew right by the edge of the lake, where the water touched its roots, providing the necessary moisture.
Having collected all the herbs she needed, Marie returned home, feeling slightly tired but satisfied with her work. Her thoughts drifted back to the strange cabinet in the library and the mysterious sounds she had heard. She decided she would return to it later, once the tincture was ready. But for now, her main task was to help Wright and his ailing father.
In the kitchen, she began the process of preparing the tincture, carefully following the instructions from the book. Time flew by as she ground and mixed the herbs, creating the healing potion. The whole house was soon filled with the soothing, hopeful scent of medicinal herbs.
When the tincture was finished, Marie poured it into a glass vial and placed it on the table. She knew Wright would come tomorrow to collect the medicine, and she hoped her efforts would help him and his father. Yet, the thoughts of the mysterious cabinet still lingered in her mind. Marie felt there might be something important hidden within.
But for now, satisfied with her work, she felt she had done all she could. Tomorrow, she would meet Wright again and perhaps find new answers to the questions that haunted her.
