T'aakshi

A solitary bead of sweat trickled down T’aakshi’s forehead, the moisture cooling quickly in the frigid air. His arms trembled as they held his spear above his head, aimed at an imaginary enemy. He had only ever used his spear for hunting; he wasn’t old enough to have fought in the last conflict between tribes. But as the son of their Chief, and potentially, the successor, he was expected to be accomplished at using it for both hunting and battle.

Really, he just found the exertion calming. Several days had passed since the sharing, and he’d not found the courage to return to the shrine. Thanks to Mura and S’aahiri, however, he was no longer spending his days cooped up inside, hiding.

T’aakshi lowered his spear, catching his breath as folk hurried back and forth past the space he practiced in, going about their day. Some nodded respectfully as they did so, a gesture that he returned every time. A few had even stopped to talk for a few moments. None had held the bitterness that T’aarak had, or seemed to blame him for what had happened.

It was difficult not to find blame in their eyes when he looked for it, though, not when he himself thought it should be there.

He slid his lead foot forward, readying his spear for another of the forms, when the sound of his name being called broke his concentration.

“Shi!”

T’aakshi turned towards his mother’s voice, and saw her standing in their doorway in the distance, hand raised in a wave for his attention. He frowned, but lowered the spear and set off in a jog towards her, regardless.

It wasn’t like her to shout across a distance like that, and her face was much too serious for his liking. She had spent the past few weeks attempting to keep a brave face. For it to have slipped… He quickened his pace, not bothering to follow the winding path, cutting straight across the snow instead.

By the time he reached the entrance to their home, she had taken herself back inside and T’aakshi followed, mouth dry. His mother knelt on a cushion, waiting for him. Kneeling beside her was S’aarasu, both their expressions severe. His heat sank. There was only one explanation for S’aarasu’s presence.

“Sit, boy,” the elder said firmly, and T’aakshi slumped to his knees on a third cushion, set out especially. He looked at his mother.

“The summons have arrived, haven’t they?”

“Indeed.”

It had been S’aarasu that answered, but T’aakshi’s eyes never left his mother’s. She had her face pinched into a worried frown, and her eyes pleaded where her words could not. She wanted this even less than he did.

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“I’ve got no interest in being the next Chief—not now, not like this,” he said, trying to make his voice like iron, as his father used to in village meetings.

“That may be so, boy. But the summons have come, and you must answer them. You can refuse to put your name forward for succession, but you’ll have to do it before the Inari-da. When they call, you answer.”

The Inari-da. S’aarasu was right about one thing: you did not refuse them when they called. Offending one could mean death—whether that be by their order and another’s hand, or by their own mastery of Self. In days past they had been prayer-leaders for their tribes, offering tributes to the Gods before battles and hunts, asking for their favour. The stories said that the Gods gave it, gifting the Inari-da with Self—magic.

As they grew in power and influence, the Inari-da from some of the tribe met and began to share knowledge. Eventually, Inari-da representing each of the twelve tribes of Tagaya had joined and founded the capital city, Kuchisoto. From there, the Inari-da now oversaw all of Tagaya as the closest thing to southern rule they had.

It was the Inari-da who would choose the Su’roi’s next Chief, though as the son of the previous one, T’aakshi could put his own name forward before any others. Everyone expected him to do so, and to succeed. Being the son of T’saamu alone would have done that—being the first Self-user in their tribe for generations made the expectation mountainous.

“What needs to be done?”

S’aarasu nodded approvingly. “Good. I always say it’s better to get a task done than live with the fear of it. There is little for you to do, boy, truth be told. I shall deal with preparing your supplies and guard. You just prepare your mind—it will need it.”

“Thank you, S’aarasu,” he said, pressing his fist flat against his forehead, bowing his head slightly. She waved him away.

“Nonsense, boy. It is my role, now that my bones creak loud enough to startle the seal. Now,” she said, rising with a slight groan. “I best get to it.”

She paused as she found her feet, taking a moment to steady herself before shuffling towards the door, wearing a satisfied smile. However, before pulling aside the hide hanging to leave, she turned back and fixed T’aakshi with a serious stare.

“I understand how difficult it must be—all the pressure to fill your father’s boots so soon after he left them. Just make sure you’re not being too hasty in discounting yourself. You have it in you to be great, boy.”

S’aarasu had already made it through the doorway by the time T’aakshi had crafted another refusal. Instead, he looked helplessly at his mother, hoping for some kind of support. What he got was a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“S’aarasu is right, Shi.”

“You think I should put my name forward?”

Her smile faltered, but was back in place so fast T’aakshi would have been forgiven for thinking he had imagined it.

“I think you should do what you think is right for you. This is a decision only you can make. Now,” she said, averting her eyes from him. “Why don’t you head out and get us some fish for supper? You’ll think on things better with fresh air and busy hands.”

T’aakshi opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips. He would say his mother was staring at the walls, only it looked more like she was seeing far past them, off into the distance. He wanted so badly to talk things through with her; but how could he when her pain was so clear, so overwhelming?

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer company?” he asked softly, and she started as though she hadn’t realised he was still there. Maybe she hadn’t.

“No, no, Shi. You go.”

He swallowed, then nodded, but she noticed neither. T’aakshi turned and set off, picking up a small wooden box tucked beside the door as he passed through it, glancing back to see his mother unmoved, still staring through the wall at something in the far distance.