Boar-fu: (n) The martial practice of grabbing a boar by its tusks and swinging it around as 
one would a weapon.


	Through the ages, many hardy individuals have taken up the school of Boar-fu.  It 
was the most highly respected of all martial farming arts.  Students came from near and 
far in hopes of learning the skilled practice from an experienced master.  However, not all 
could handle the rigorous training involved.  Most of these incapable students simply 
returned home without question or complaint.  However, one boy, who tried to learn from 
the great master Bain, was rejected, and instead of returning to his country home where 
his family waited, he disappeared.  Few accounts had filtered through gossip networks, 
rumors of a new school of martial farming lead by a mysterious master.  Some even 
proclaimed it to be stronger than Boar-fu could ever hope to be.  However, before the 
source of such claims could ever be found, the gossip died and life returned to normal…

***

	Di stared at the outside training area from the patio, thoughts flitting across her 
mind on how long it would take the subject of her photo journal, the master of the 
training hall, to reject another prospective student.  The boy had been at it for only a 
week, but he had improved none, at least in her eyes.  It seemed as though people 
streamed through the training hall on a daily basis, each desiring to learn from a skilled 
master such as her housemate.  The problem was that, in this day and age, few had the 
strength, both physical and emotional, to handle the art.  As such, the training hall, 
though highly respected, was growing harder to pay taxes on.  It was all one very sticky, 
complicated mess.

	Allan stood near Di, also looking out upon the training yard, his tall, stocky frame 
tensing and relaxing as he watched the training.  His master of 14 years was still 
attempting to initiate a new student into the art.  The boy had poor technique and little 
strength, not that Allan was the most stellar of students.  In fact, in those years since his 
master took him in, an orphan boy he'd found on the side of the road far from Sigisu, he 
hadn't displayed any great skill in the art.  He often wondered why his master did not 
simply let him go, now that he was of age and certainly capable of taking care of himself 
in the world.  

	After moments of respective silence, the two finally ventured out onto the training 
grounds to speak with the master of the hall.  He, however, was still busy attempting to 
instruct his new student on proper gripping; his new student was stubbornly refusing to 
listen to the help offered. 

	"Son, you must listen to me if you ever hope of learning the art," the master said 
with practiced patience. 

	"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening, old man," the youth replied.  "When can I go scare the 
punks downtown with this?"

	The master sighed.  It seemed as though, no matter what he did, the boy did not 
have the requisite strength of character to learn the art.  It was time to finally end this.  "I 
don't think you are quite cut out for the art.  Perhaps it is time for you to move on and 
find something new to occupy your time."

	The lad looked shocked. "Yer throwing me out?!  Stupid old man! What do you 
know!"  He launched the animal he had been practicing on through a window and 
stormed off through the gate.

	Di stepped out into the yard, followed by Allan, and walked over to her best 
friend.  "Hunter, don't let kids like that get to you," she said, consoling him.  "These 
days, people treat the martial arts as something 'cool,' not something to seriously work 
at."

	Hunter looked at Di and Allan, seeking reassurance in their eyes and finding it.  
"You are right, of course, but I need someone capable enough to take on the school when 
it comes time for me to move on."

	Allan nodded as his master spoke.  He knew there was little possible way for him 
to inherit the school of Boar-fu, but that didn't stop him from hoping  to be considered 
worthy enough for it.  Maybe if he continued to train as hard as he had been lately, he 
could convince his master to pass the school down to him.  However, that was a distant 
possibility, one that could be shadowed further by the arrival of a promising new student.  
It would only take one to cut his progress off at the root.

***

	Rain pounded at the rooftops of the town of Sigisu as dusk quickly approached.  
Hail pelted against glass pane windows, threatening to break into quiet abodes.  Few in 
the town would try to go anywhere in a storm like that, and those who would were 
usually passed out drunk in their homes.  However empty the street should have been, 
there was a lone red bamboo umbrella winding its way down the muddy roads, the person 
holding it cowered so as to retain as much warmth as possible.

	The umbrella and its owner came to a stop outside a darkened building.  The only 
light was from a single candle placed in a window.  The figure slowly lowered its 
umbrella, reaching a hand out to that window as if it were trying to grasp the glowing 
flame.  A mask hid the figure's face; only two dark brown eyes could be seen.  

	Just then, the paper door slid open, inky warmth spilling out into the night.  The 
figure looked up, startled, and snatched its hand back from the glass.  "Please, come 
inside," a voice called out from inside the building.  The person hesitated only a moment 
before joining that voice in the dark within.

	Inside, the figure could see that numerous candles burned, placed on various 
shelves and tables around the large main room.  The candlelight highlighted the person's 
figure, revealing through shape that it was a woman.  She looked around for the source of 
the voice, and saw a man sitting cross-legged against a wall.  His long, light brown hair 
was pulled back from his angular face, and his eyes were closed.  "You can remove your 
mask now.  There is no rain to wet your face here," he said with a small smile.

	She blinked once before reaching up and dragging the mask down her face.  Once 
it was off, the man opened his slate eyes and examined her.  Her features were typically 
Asian, with both dark hair and eyes.  A lock of hair in the front was bleached, however; 
the man figured it was some sort of honor marking from a outland village.  "Your name?" 
he asked.

	"Lorelai," she answered without hesitation.  He searched into the depths of her 
eyes to determine if that was truth, and found it wasn't.  There was a twinkle, not 
particularly pleasant, that appeared briefly in her left pupil, something he hadn't seen for 
years.



	Flash.  A brief smile from a fellow student.  A distinct gleam flashing in the boy's 
eyes.  Memories of a distant past where the martial farming arts were revered and all 
obeyed the Great Master, Bain.  The boy next to him, with his short dark hair and equally 
dark eyes grinned at him before turning back to address the Master.  "My name is-"  



	The man snapped back to the present, shaking off distant memories.  This girl 
seemed to resemble that boy from his past…perhaps too closely.  He would have to keep 
a watch on her.  "What brings you here, Lorelai?" he asked in that same neutral, almost 
monotone, pitch.

	"To learn Boar-fu from the master known as the Peregrine."

	The man gave another half-smile, this one almost wistful.  "I haven't been called 
that in years…" he murmured.  "You may call me Hunter, Lorelai."

	She knelt on the floor in front of him and bowed over to touch her forehead to the 
tops of her hands.  "Master Hunter, please teach me the art."

	Hunter thought he could make out that gleam in her eye again shortly before she 
bowed before him.  He pushed it out of his mind once more and looked down at Lorelai.  
"Arise, my new student…"

***

	Allan grasped the dummy boar by its wooden tusks and hefted the weight over his 
head.  "KYAAAAA!" he yelled as he brought it crashing down on a stack of bricks.  It 
was part of the daily training regiment Hunter had been making him do for the past few 
weeks.  It was to build upper body strength by gradually increasing the weight of the 
dummy boars.  One day, Allan hoped he would be strong enough to learn the final 
technique from his master, one which no one save a select few individuals had ever born 
witness to.  

	Hunter emerged from the training hall and leaned against the doorjamb to watch 
his first student train.  Between blows he called out, "I see improvement, Allan."

	Allan let the boar fall to his side and looked up, startled.  "Master!  Where were 
you this morning?"

	"It is of no concern."  Hunter turned slightly to look inside and made a gesture 
with his hand.  "I would like you to meet my new student, Lorelai."

	The woman stepped into the bright mid-morning light and bowed to Allan.  
"Greetings," she said.  "I look forward to training with you."

	Allan stared at her.  Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun, the bleached lock 
dangling in front of her eyes.  She wore the same training uniform as he, though it 
seemed to suit her far better.  Her eyes gave an impression of experience and knowledge 
in the martial arts.  Allan winced internally; she could be the one their master chose to 
inherit the school if she was as skilled as she looked.

	"As do I," he returned, bowing formally.  

Hunter noticed the change in his first student's posture when Lorelai appeared.  He 
sensed there would be much competition between the two.  'Perhaps this will give Allan 
the push he needs to fully realize his abilities…' he thought.

Smiling, Hunter addressed his students, Lorelai having joined Allan on the main lawn.  
"Let us first test your abilities, Lorelai…"

***

	Allan watched his fellow student go through the smooth motions of practice.  
Every muscle in her body seemed to flow along the bone, not jerking mechanically as his 
always did.  It was clear to him that she'd had previous training, perhaps in another art, 
though which was uncertain.  She didn't even break a sweat as she performed more 
difficult maneuvers that he had only begun to practice.

	The corners of his eyes tightened.  There was something odd about her, though he 
couldn't quite pin it down.  He recalled the old stories his master used to share with him, 
of the climactic battle between the Peregrine and the Dark Master.  His master always 
mentioned a slight positioning and movement oddity in his adversary, something Allan 
thought he could see in Lorelai as she trained.  It was most peculiar to him.

	So tangled up in his thoughts was he that he didn't notice practice end, and his 
master and Lorelai walk into the main hall.  He ran after them, hoping to catch the new 
student and ask her a question or two about her fighting style.      

	"Hey, Lorelai, can I talk to you for a sec?"

	Lorelai turned around and faced her pursuer, Allan.  She had been headed for the 
baths after a long day of training and practice.  "Yes?"

	Allan smiled and quickened his pace so that he was standing in front of her.  
"How'd you get so good at the arts?  I've never seen anyone accurately swing a boar on 
her first day before."

	Her eyes narrowed, a gleam flashing suddenly and then disappearing.  "That is 
none of your business, lesser student," she replied succinctly.

	"Excuse me?" he snapped.  "What do you mean by 'lesser student'?!  I'm just as 
capable as you!"

	Lorelai looked him from head to toe before continuing, as if confirming her 
beliefs.  "You practice Boar-fu because you feel you owe it to your Master for taking you 
in as an orphan.  That is why you do not excel at it.  I practice to learn, and to improve.  
That is why I am better at present than you."  She stopped, awaiting further protest.

	"Listen, I try just as hard as you do at this!" he yelled.

	She snorted.  "If earlier was an example of your 'trying,' I suggest you find a new 
hobby."  With that, she spun around and strode off to the baths.

	'That…the nerve of her!' Allan thought furiously.  A torrent of rather colorful 
phrases flooded through his mind in accompaniment.  Suddenly, the mental swearing 
ceased as he recalled something unusual.  'That fierce gleam in her eye…I think I recall 
Master Hunter fighting that man long ago…with a gleam like that…'  Allan stared after 
Lorelai for a moment longer before turning and running off in the opposite direction to 
his room.  He had some things to think about more.

	Lorelai entered the bathing room, sliding the door shut behind her and wincing in 
response to the earlier confrontation.  Steam already filled the air, Di having prepared the 
bath for her in anticipation of her long workout.  She thought back to the conversation 
with Allen.  Really, she hadn't meant to come off so harsh - she rather liked the boy, to 
be honest - but drastic times called for drastic measures.

	She reached up and pulled lightly on the bleached lock of hair that often hung in 
her eyes.  It was her badge of honor, a mark she'd had enough hair to properly care for it 
so.  According to the laws of her village, her tribe, she was to maintain an aura of honor 
at all times in her life, or she would never be able to return.  It was difficult to maintain 
the ideals of courage and compassion her community found to be most honorable; the 
strain of her past missions had carved light creases across her forehead and at the corners 
of her eyes.  She tugged at the lock of hair some, wishing with all her heart that she could 
rip it out and toss it away, toss all those ideals away.  She couldn't hope to achieve them, 
not now.  Too much had happened around her to continue down such a path willingly.  
Releasing it, she blew a puff of air through the light hairs, watching them flutter free from 
restraint; she wished she could be as free as those hairs.  Perhaps one day it would be so.

	As she slipped out of her training clothes, a small vial of clear liquid clattered to 
the floor, rolling across the hardwood before coming to a stop near the bath stool.  One of 
her eyebrows quirked up as she knelt down and reached out to fetch it.  Her hand brushed 
one of the legs of the stool, and her face contorted slightly as a tiny splinter lodged itself 
in her knuckle.  It was too small to effectively remove, as was evident upon closer 
inspection.  Muttering lightly to herself about how something so insignificant could bring 
such pain, she retrieved the vial and placed it atop the sink counter, next to a small bronze 
medallion that hung on a leather cord.  Pushing all thoughts of vials and upstart students 
from her mind, she sat down on the stool and began the bathing process.   

***

	Dusk fell on Sigisu.  It had been about a week since Lorelai had joined the school 
of Boar-fu.  Word spread quickly throughout the town of her skill, and there was often 
talk of Hunter selecting her as next in line to inherit the school.  Of course, Hunter denied 
it with a small smile whenever someone asked, but there was enough rumor-mongering to 
get the general word to Allan's ears.  He was less than pleased.

	A couple days after Lorelai's arrival, he began watching her in secret.  The gleam 
he'd noticed in her eye seemed too familiar to Hunter's accounts of an old battle to be 
mere coincidence.  Two nights after their first day of training together, he caught her 
sneaking off into town.  He hadn't followed then, but it seemed that every night after she 
would leave the hall for some reason.  It was making him suspicious to the point where 
he had decided to follow her the next night she went out.

	She unknowingly lead him to a rather nondescript house on the edge of Sigisu.  It 
wasn't like the spooky, old houses in horror stories, with gangly-limbed trees 
encroaching on the front yard.  The lawn was neatly mowed, the house painted a 
whitewash color, the shutters and front door treated with a red the color of blood.  Allan 
crept onto the front porch and peered in one of the immaculately clean windows, trying to 
keep out of sight in case anyone inside looked his way.

	He saw two people within.  One was obviously Lorelai, the other was a relatively 
short man dressed entirely in black with a ninja mask pulled over his face.  He appeared 
to be chastising her, based on the way her head drooped.  Allan could quite clearly see 
the man's eyes, and they seemed strangely familiar.

	Just then, the man reached up and pulled the lower part of his mask down, 
revealing the rest of his face.  Allan had to bite his lip to keep from crying out in shock.  
He knew that face, it haunted his dreams every night.  His master had described it in such 
vivid detail that it had seemed as though he were there witnessing that fateful battle.  As 
he turned and fled into the night, back to the training hall, not caring that he had knocked 
over a plant to the deck floor, he could only say one thing over and over in his mind.  
'Chesed?!'

	Lorelai narrowed her eyes as she heard the clatter come from outside.  "He was 
here," she stated in a monotone.  'That fool!' she thought.  'Does he want to die?!  Being 
caught by the Dark Master will only end in death!'

	Her master, Chesed, merely shrugged, .  It concerned him not whether the 
inexperienced student had overheard any part of their conversation.  It was too late for 
him to do anything meaningful…save perhaps waste his own life in an act of revenge.  
"Come," he said, turning to the stairs.  "We must prepare.  He'll be back."

***

	"Master! Master!" Allan called out as he burst into the training hall, looking 
frantically around for a sign of life.  "Master, where are you?!"  

	"Allan…"  A door slid open and Di appeared, sorrow clouding her features.  
Allan rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly.

	"Di! Where is the master?" he asked hurriedly.  She turned his face down and 
away from him, hesitant to say anything of import.  He shook her shoulders again.  "Tell 
me!  It's important!"

	"…This way, Allan…"  Di turned and lead him down the hallway to Hunter's 
room.  

There, on the bed, lay his master, prone and pale.  His skin was clammy to the touch and 
dark circles had appeared under his eyes.  His chest rose with shallow breathes at 
irregular intervals.  Allan turned, shocked beyond comprehension, to Di.

"What…what happened to him?!" he cried.  He had never known his master to become 
stricken with illness, in all the years he'd known him.

"He…I think he's been poisoned," she murmured, still not quite believing it herself.  "I 
don't think anyone can save him now…"

"Poison…"  Allan let the information seep into his mind, congealing and solidifying until 
one cohesive thought formed.  "Chesed.  He and Lorelai must have done this…"

"Chesed…?" Di looked at him questioningly.  "But Hunter said he died long ago…in that 
battle…"

Allan clenched a fist.  "I saw him tonight…Lorelai's working with him."  He turned and 
headed for the door.  "I must go fetch a weapon from the yard.  I must get my revenge."

"Allan!  Wait!" she called out, causing him to stop.  Di pulled out a twisted, wooden key 
that hung around her neck on a leather cord and tossed it to him.  "Use this to unlock 
Hunter's chest.  Twinight is inside."

He stared at the key that rested in his palm.  "Twinight? You mean the…boar he used to 
defeat Chesed?"  

Di nodded.  "He always said it was his better half…  Please use it to defeat Chesed once 
and for all."

Allan walked over to the trunk and jabbed the key in, popping the lid open.  Inside lay a 
perfectly preserved boar, with glistening ivory tusks and thick, bristly hair.  It almost 
seemed to glow, as though it was magical.  As he grabbed the pristine tusks, he felt a 
strange energy pour into him.  Not just energy, though; it seemed as though memories of 
battles past flowed through his mind, accompanied by images of ancient techniques and 
old foes.  He knew, then; he knew how all would unfold.  Twinight would defeat the 
Dark Master Chesed, and his Master Hunter would be avenged. 

***

	He met no resistance as he charged through Chesed's front door, Twinight's tusks 
firmly grasped in his hands.  The interior was kept just as neat and tidy as the exterior.  A 
few small candles lit the entrance hall, the flames glowing an eerie indigo.  A few beige 
cardboard boxes littered the mahogany floor, evidence of a recent, probably hasty, 
arrival.

	Allan's eyes drifted up a steep staircase, catching a glimpse of metal glinting in 
the candlelight.  Hoisting the boar onto his shoulder and glancing about wildly for any 
possible attack, he charged as bravely as he could muster up the steps.  At the top he saw 
more of those strange indigo candles, as well as an odd green light spilling from under a 
nearby door.  'It has to be him…' he thought.  'Him and…Lorelai…'

	He stood before the door, emotions raging through his mind.  The second he 
stepped into the room he would likely be embroiled in the battle of his life.  Thoughts of 
'Am I ready?' and 'Will I live?' consumed him.  He remembered his master, the great 
Peregrine as he used to be called, lying on the bed, deathly ill and likely to die.  There 
was no place now for cowardice.  His master needed-no, he needed vengeance, closure.  
Steeling his nerves, he thrust Twinight into the door, splintering the wood and revealing 
the Dark Master Chesed, and his pupil, Lorelai.

	The battle was quick and decisive.  No words were exchanged; both Allan and 
Chesed knew conversation was unnecessary as they stood, one man wielding a boar, the 
other twin roosters.  Chesed was a master of the Crescent Moon Order of Chicken Fury; 
Allan was a mere apprentice to the Peregrine.  The boys clumsy motions and swings were 
no match for the speed and accuracy of the master's thrusts.  In a few short moments, it 
was all over.  The battered and bloodied body of the Boar-fu student lie crumpled on the 
floor, not moving in the slightest, not even to breathe.

	Lorelai stared at the prone form of her former fellow student of the art, shock and 
dismay coursing through her veins and wreaking havoc on her mind.  She had tried to 
drive the boy away before he could get hurt in Chesed's quest for vengeance against the 
Peregrine, by implanting thoughts of inadequacy in his head.  It hadn't worked, and the 
boy, the 'lesser student' as she had called him before, was likely dying if not already 
dead.  There wasn't much she could do to help him at this point; few survived a direct 
encounter with Chesed.  She stared down at the body, the slight reddish aura still burning 
around him which signified that he was still on the mortal coil.

	"Foolish boy," Chesed scoffed, interrupting her thoughts.  "Thought he could 
challenge me and emerge victorious."

	Lorelai glared at the man she once called master, anger boiling up inside.  Anger 
at Allan for charging a known elite; anger at Chesed for fighting a boy he knew to be far 
less powerful than he; anger at herself for not putting a stop to it.  There was but one 
course of action left for her.  She couldn't follow Chesed any longer, and she couldn't 
return to the school of Boar-fu, for she had already betrayed it greatly.  Gathering up her 
strength, she stepped forward and stood in front of her old master, staring him in the eye.  
"He did not have to die," she stated simply.

	Chesed stared at her for a brief moment before replying, "No, but then, few do.  
Only the foolish."  A smirk crossed his features.  "Why do you regret his death so?  It 
isn't like you, Wei-Ling."

	Lorelai winced at hearing her former name, the name given to her at birth.  The 
name that as much importance to her honor as the bleached lock of hair did.  Disowning 
the name was the easy part of tossing her old values to the side, ideals she could never 
live up to now.  "You fancy yourself to be god-like.  There was no reason to kill him.  
You only wish to demonstrate your vicious power over others."

	He chuckled.  "Really, Wei-Ling, do I strike you as a person who has placed 
himself among the gods?  You should know by now that to do so only invites your own 
death."  He nudged Allan's body with the beak of one of his rooster weapons as the red 
aura finally dissipated, the boy's life ending.  "I'm sure he is far more at ease where he 
rests now.  I am most merciful to those who are weak, don't you think?"  

	She looked down at the ancient preserved boar lying near Allan.  She hadn't 
trained very long under the Peregrine; any ability in Boar-fu would likely be questionable 
at best compared to any of the masters.  However, there was something she needed to do, 
something that her honor, that horrid lock of hair her entire life was supposed to be 
centered around, depended on.  Honor as a martial artist, and, somewhat, as a friend.  She 
hadn't been especially amiable toward those at the school of Boar-fu, but now was she 
had a chance to redeem herself.  The deaths would not be in vain.

	"I challenge you," she stated, waiting for the response she expected.  She got it as 
Chesed began laughing uproariously.

	"Do you really think you can defeat me with my own technique, Wei-Ling?" he 
asked.  "I am the most skilled the order has ever seen!"

	"No," Lorelai stated, reaching down to grip the chipped tusks of Twinight.  "I will 
defeat you with his technique."  Recalling what the great Peregrine taught her, she 
relaxed her muscles and let the art flow through her.  She recalled a distant memory, one 
she didn't even believe was really hers, and raised the boar, assuming a position Chesed 
had only ever seen once, in a battle long ago.  



	Flash.  Lightning ripped apart the sky in great blasts of white and a steady rain 
beat down on the empty training field.  Empty save for two individuals, squared off 
against each other and ready to defend whatever seemed important at the time.  Each 
gripped a pair of tusks, though one, a dark-haired youth, maintained a somewhat uneasy 
and clumsy handle.  The other, his long brown hair tied back with a strip of leather and 
his muscles flowing with practiced ease, raised the head of his weapon over his shoulder, 
the body pointing straight forward at his opponent.  "Take back your actions, Chesed," 
the brown-haired youth calmly stated, not moving an inch.  "There is still time for 
redemption."

	"There is never time for anything but mercy, Peregrine!  Mercy only found in 
death!" the black-haired boy shouted back, trying in vain to assume the same position.  
He could not muster the strength to do so, however.

	"Your mercy is flawed.  Master Bain tried to teach you so, but he has failed.  Now 
it is up to me."  The Peregrine leaned forward slightly, shifting his balance to his right 
foot, which he had positioned a full step ahead of his left.  "Prepare yourself."



	He knew the position, the maneuver, and so thought he could anticipate Lorelai's 
upcoming strike.  He raised his roosters, crossing them right over left against his chest 
and braced his feet for impact.  She saw by the gleam in his eyes, the very same that 
shown in her own, that he was ready for any fight she brought.  Shifting the balance to 
her right foot and letting Twinight guide her thoughts, a great cry, one of justice and 
honor, erupted from her lips and she leapt forward, aiming for the heart of the evil 
master…

***

	"…and that's enough for tonight," the mother said, gently closing the book and 
smiling at the frustrated expressions etched on her children's faces.

	"Aw, come on, mom! At least finish it! Does Lorelai defeat the evil master 
Chesed or not?!" 

	"Yeah, mom! We gotta know!"

	She smiled again as she replaced the book on the shelf, a book she herself had 
written, though this time her smile seemed somewhat wistful.  "I promise I'll finish the 
story for you tomorrow…"  She trailed off, knowing in her mind that the ending would 
likely disappoint her children.

	"Okay!" they both chimed in before snuggling under the covers, settling down for 
the night's rest.

	The mother left the room, memories of times past flitting through her mind, and 
went out onto the balcony of her three-bedroom apartment.  The night sky blanketed the 
city with a dark gloom only interrupted by tiny pinpricks of light from the stars.  Across 
the street from her apartment building lay a cemetery, where, in a neat row, lay the bodies 
of two of the finest people she had ever known.  She had requested their bodies be moved 
with her when she returned to her hometown.  There were three markers, though; the 
remaining one was for a friend presumed dead, her body having never been found.  She 
still thought about them often; she couldn't help it, what with the new bedtime story her 
kids had selected recently.  Life had a funny way of solving your problems in the manner 
you least suspect, whether good or bad.  A sigh escaped her lips as she remembered that 
fateful night in Sigisu.

	She reached up and clutched at a leather cord that hung around her neck; on the 
end of it dangled a small bronze medallion.  "Hunter…Allan…Lorelai…please, rest in 
peace always."  Di turned and walked back inside, where dreams of a different future 
awaited her return.

	Outside, below the balcony, a lone figure clothed in black stood.  A few rain 
drops had begun to spatter upon the pavement, and they left small dark blotches on the 
person's outfit.  A mask covered its face, shielding any recognizable features from view.  
It looked up to the balcony, a strange sort of expressiveness crossing its dark eyes, before 
turning to the road.  Hoisting a red bamboo umbrella over its head to shield from the 
imminent rain, it walked away, leaving only a piece of pointed, tarnished ivory and a lock 
of bleached hair on the front walk.

	A reminder of times past…