Blonding

Chapter 50 : A Dream?

Three never went to the village square.

It was far too out of the way, for one; her home was close to the edge of the town, near the tall, arching trees that draped halfway towards the ground and looked like they were bowing to her as she left for her day's duties.

The square was on the other side of the Hidden Sea, surrounded by the ocean and the docks and row after row of densely-packed houses. The square was where they held their festivals, where the villagers sold their goods and interacted with one another, and it was a loud, noisy, crowded place.

Three never felt a need to go there.

Not until that day, at least.

It was strange, the feeling that overcame her that fateful morning. She woke in her bed, the sun drifting through the shade of the branches high overhead and casting bright swaths of light across her room, and the unfamiliar sensation of dread-met-excitement settled over her almost as soon as her feet touched the wool rug on the wooden floor.

Her small, two-room home bottled her up, making her uneasy and restless and all-around far too uncomfortable, and for a brief moment she considered making the unpleasant trek up the mountain pass to see her grandfather.

She squashed that thought as soon as it crossed her mind, and instead slipped her bamboo sandals under her feet and walked out into the village for the first time in a week.

Three scratched at her bald head as she entered the village proper, and tried not to shrink away from the looks of surprise and worry the others gave her. She could see the questions in their eyes.

Perhaps she was sick? Perhaps she was training, or working on her skills as a ninja, or something else entirely? Was that why she hid herself away by the edge of the forest?

Some of the fishermen, large bags of something foul-smelling and heavy slung over their shoulders, gave her rather different looks - looks of disapproval. Was she lazy? Why didn't she bother working in the village, earning an honest living and being one with her kind, like her father had done not so long ago?

Three breathed a deep breath, crossed her arms across her chest, and kept walking.

The town washed past her in a blur, and the faces of surprise bled to faces of indifference.

She let out a sigh of relief, and some of the tension in her shoulders faded away. The square approached her as the hill sloped downwards, toward the massive blue mirror of light that girdled their village. She counted one, two dozen small fishing vessels sailing on waves of reflected sunlight, some drifting out of her range of vision and across the horizon towards the fertile fishing grounds she knew from school laid just outside of the bay.

The village square welcomed her with the same somewhat shocked, somewhat unconcerned looks she had encountered on her journey down the hillside, but she paid them no mind.

The square was just as bustling as always, a blur of motion and activity and noise. Three made her way towards the center, where the cobbled concrete gave way to the wooden boardwalk and she could hear the waves of the ocean lapping at the support beams. She stood at their junction, one foot on one surface and the other on another, and waited.

For what, she was unsure.

But she waited nonetheless.