It was the year 5979 C.C., on the first day of the twelfth lunar cycle, that was the day I came into this world.

  You might be wondering where I came from. I wondered the same thing myself… until that day.

  "You're so lame!" a childlike voice yelled. "Why don't you quit bothering us and go back to your mommy?"

  "Oh wait—you don't have one," another voice added, triggering laughter from the group of children.

  The words made the helpless, beaten girl before them break down into tears.

  "Why do you have to be so mean?" she said through sobs. "I just… I just wanted to play with you guys."

  "Well, too bad," another child replied. "We don't play with kids we don't know."

  "Yeah," another continued, "our parents told us to avoid you because you and your dad are new here."

  The girl said nothing and only continued crying.

  They stared at her for a moment in silence before one of them said, "Come on, guys. Let's go."

  The group began to leave, but one girl among them stopped and turned back to look at her.

  "Come on," a voice called as she was pulled away. "She's nothing but trouble. She doesn't even know who her own mom is."

  She didn't resist. With the faintest sigh, she turned away, never looking back.

  The girl slowly pushed herself up from the ground, her robe covered in dirt, her face bruised.

  She wiped away her tears and limped away from the scene.

  The adults who had witnessed everything didn't so much as ask if she was okay. To them, she was a burden they didn't want to deal with, so they simply went about their business, paying her no mind as she walked away and before long she disappeared down the road—alone.

  The door to a room slid open and the girl limped in. The room was mostly empty, with only bedding in the corner and a single person inside—a man who was hunched over, facing the wall. He wore a striped blue robe and had slightly long hair and a beard that flowed from his chin down to his collarbone.

  "Father," she cried out, catching his attention.

  He turned and saw her bruised. Immediately he jumped to his feet and rushed to her, lifting her up before sitting down with her in his arms.

  "What happened?" he asked worriedly. "Who did this to you?"

  "It–it…" she said through sniffles, "it was the kids who were playing outside."

  "I only wanted to… to play with them," she continued, "but then they hit me and started saying mean things."

  "What did they say?" the man asked, visibly furious, though his tone remained calm.

  "They made fun of me because they said I have no mom," she replied, tears welling in her eyes.

  He remained silent for a moment, unsure of what to say to that comment. Then he gently wiped the tears from her cheek.

  "Chin up, Miyuki," he said softly.

  "My girl is tough," he continued with a small smile.

  Seeing this, she calmed down and quietly cuddled into his arms.

  "When will you tell me?" she asked, breaking the silence. "About my mom."

  "You want to know about her?" he asked after a brief moment of hesitation. "This is the first time you've been so direct."

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  "I'll tell you everything you want to know," he continued. "Just ask."

  "Well first," she said, sitting up on his lap, "why doesn't she live with us?"

  "Doesn't she love us like the other kids' moms?" she continued.

  "It's not that she doesn't love us," he replied. "It's just that she can't be with us anymore."

  "Why not?" she asked, puzzled.

  He hesitated again before answering. "Well… that's just how the world is, Miyuki. Not everyone we love can stay with us forever."

  "There comes a time when they have to leave us, whether they want to or not."

  "Why don't they just stay a bit longer, then leave later?" she asked.

  "It's not as simple as that," he replied, gently patting her head. "We don't get to decide when they leave. All we can do is love them, even if they're gone."

  "So she's not coming back then?" she asked, a frown forming on her face.

  "Hey, don't pout," he said, lifting her chin. "She wouldn't want that."

  "But she's not here. How would she know?" she asked, confused.

  With a soft smile, he replied, "That's because she's watching you from where she is right now."

  "Really?" she asked, her face lighting up. "So she still loves me then, even if she's not here."

  "Of course she does," he replied. "She loves you more than you could ever know."

  "Father," she called out.

  "Yeah?"

  "What was she like?" she asked.

  He looked up and smiled.

  "I could tell you everything about her—from the kind of food she liked, to her favorite games, and even the things she hated more than anything else."

  "Really?" she said. "How do you know so much about her?"

  "Well," he replied in a soft tone, "if she were here, I'm sure you would have known everything about her too."

  "She was brave," he continued, "and she never knew when to give up. She always liked helping others, even if she didn't know them."

  He smiled softly. "That's what I loved most about her."

  "Wow," she replied. "She sounds amazing. Do you think I can be like her one day?"

  He lifted her up into the air and said, "I'm sure you can."

  She giggled softly in response, the sound filling the quiet room.

  And for the first time that day, the tears on her face were replaced by a smile.

  The night was silent, its calm atmosphere broken only by the soft chirping of crickets.

  Three people were asleep in the room when one of them suddenly sat up.

  Moonlight slipped through the small gap in the door, glimmering in her emerald-green eyes.

  She slowly stood and slid the door open before stepping outside.

  Taking a seat on the raised wooden floor that separated the house from the ground, she stared blankly into the starry night, lost in thought.

  A moment later, she heard the door behind her slide open again.

  Another girl stepped out and sat beside her, the wind brushing softly through her silky black hair.

  "Why are you up so late, Miyuki?" she asked.

  "It's nothing," Miyuki replied. "I was just thinking about some old memories."

  "So what about you, Takae?" she asked.

  "Oh, me?" Takae said. "I can't sleep. I've been having a lot of nightmares."

  "It must be rough," Miyuki replied. "You know… with everything you've gone through in just a few days."

  "Yeah," Takae said, staring up at the sky. "But it's getting easier, at least."

  "I'm glad to hear it."

  A brief silence followed.

  Takae glanced over at her, and that was when she noticed something glowing faintly on the back of Miyuki's left hand. The light was subtle, but it was there.

  She rubbed her eyes, trying to confirm what she had seen. But when she looked again, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The back of Miyuki's hand looked perfectly normal.

  "So what about you?" Takae asked, shrugging off what she assumed was a hallucination from her lack of sleep. "I'm sure you're not awake just because you were reminiscing. Is that all it is?"

  Miyuki looked away, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

  "My mother… she was an Ashura samurai, just like my father and yours were. But instead of dying a noble death, she died giving birth to me."

  "And for the longest time," she continued, "I've always wanted to be just like she was—to be someone who could make a difference in her place. But every day I feel that dream drifting further and further away. And I keep thinking… what if I'm going to spend the rest of my life here in this village, surrounded by these hostile people and then die a meaningless death? That thought alone is enough to keep me up at night."

  "Why do you think that?" Takae asked. "I mean… why do you think it will never happen?"

  Miyuki sighed.

  "It's my father. He won't even let me talk about it in front of him. I don't know why."

  "Doesn't he think I'm good enough? That I would just be wasting my life chasing a dream that might never come true?"

  She sighed again, louder this time. Then she raised her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

  "What do you think?" she asked.

  Takae remained silent for a moment, thinking carefully about her answer.

  "I don't think he's ignoring what you want because you're not good enough," she said. "I think it's because he's afraid."

  "Afraid?" Miyuki asked.

  "Afraid to watch you grow up and chase your dreams… and your own life."

  "For a long time now," she continued, "he's probably seen you as nothing more than his fragile daughter—the one he has to protect. But I'm sure that as long as you stay determined, one day he'll finally learn to let go and allow you to live your own life."

  "You think so?" Miyuki asked, a soft smile forming on her face.

  "You know," she continued, "you're not too bad at this. I wouldn't have pegged you as such an insightful person."

  "You think so?" Takae replied with an awkward smile.

  "I guess I'll just have to keep waiting," Miyuki said, looking up at the sky, "until he can finally set me free."

  Takae said nothing. She simply watched her in silence, a small smile resting on her face.