The humid summer air hung heavy in the old Nanase home, thick with the scent of lavender and cinnamon, the aroma of their mother's favorite tea simmering on the stove. The Nanase siblings, Tenten, Rikkiu, Rin and Tenna, sat huddled together, their breaths hushed, their eyes fixed on the closed door of their brother Tenn's room.
"He hasn't slept in three days," Tenten whispered, her voice tight with worry. She was the eldest, always the responsible one, and the weight of Tenn's suffering sat heavy on her heart.
"He's just worried about Rin," Rikkiu mumbled, his small face pale and drawn. He was the youngest, always clinging to Tenten, but even he understood the somber weight of their situation.
Rin, the middle child, lay in her bed, her pale face flushed, her brow beaded with sweat. The illness that had swept through the family had hit her hardest. Her usual vibrant laughter was replaced with a pained cough, a constant reminder of the fragility of life.
Tenna, usually a spirited, mischievous girl, sat silent, her hands clasped in her lap. Her gaze flitted between the closed door of Tenn's room and Rin's drawn face. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and helplessness.
Tenn, their older brother, had always been their rock, their anchor. He was the one who calmed their fears, the one who knew the answers to all their questions. Now, he was the one who needed their strength.
He paced the confines of his room, his brow furrowed, his hair tousled. Every few minutes, he would pause at the door, his hand hovering over the knob, before pulling it back. He could hear his siblings' muffled whispers, their worried murmurs, his own name spoken in hushed tones. He knew they were all afraid, but he refused to succumb to the fear that gnawed at his insides. He had to be strong, he had to protect his family.
"Rin needs to get better," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. He paced for what felt like hours, his mind racing with every fevered cough that came from his sister's room. He remembered the stories his grandmother used to tell, tales of ancient remedies, whispered incantations, and mythical creatures that guarded secrets of healing. He had always dismissed them as mere folklore, but now, in his desperation, he clung to the hope that they held the key to his sister's recovery.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced, a vivid image of his grandmother, her wrinkled face etched with wisdom, her eyes sparkling with ancient knowledge. She had told him about a hidden valley, nestled deep within the heart of a forgotten forest, a place where spirits of nature dwelled, their powers whispered on the wind. A place, she had said, where even the most desperate ailments could be healed.
Tenn's eyes narrowed, his heart filled with a renewed hope. He knew it was a long shot, a desperate gamble, but it was their only option. He had to try. He had to save Rin.
He decided. He would leave a note for his siblings, explaining his absence. He knew they would worry, but he couldn't stay. He had to find the valley, he had to find the cure. He had to save his sister.
The next morning, the Nanase siblings woke to find Tenn's room empty, a note left on his pillow. It read: 'I'll be back soon. Don't worry.' He had already left, his heart filled with hope, his footsteps echoing through the silent forest, leading him toward the hidden valley, toward the ancient remedy, toward a future he prayed would be filled with the laughter of his beloved sister.
The end of chapter 9
