Categories > Anime/Manga > Fruits Basket > The Prince of Snows
Everyone in Mizaka had heard the stories of bandit attacks on the villages beyond the port city. Bloodthirsty tales of midnight raids and beheadings and general pillaging had animated conversations in tavern and drawing room alike. And having just fled from an out-and-out battle between self-proclaimed Ashari warriors and city guards themselves, the four travelers were understandably surprised when the small caravan rolled into yet another village and found it intact, with neither hide nor hair of the foreign devils in sight. Finally, the caravan leader took pity on them and explained that while it was true that the Ashari refugees had turned to banditry in order to survive, they only attacked the handful of villages that had openly declared their loyalty to the port city. There was no love lost between the Ashari and Mizaka.
It was also true that the Ashari had lost men to Mizakan treachery, including the chieftain's adopted son. However, most believed that the boy had been killed outright, not just kidnapped as the stories in the city went, and the tribe had sworn to avenge the murders. Bitter though they might be, the Ashari were not fools, and would stay clear of port city itself until they had gained the numbers and strength needed to take a sizeable chunk out of Mizaka. Judging from the trouble that had just boiled over in the Outer City, that time was not too long in coming.
Still, there was an unmistakable sense of wrongness in the villages. Things were quiet, yes, but the mood was distinctly unfriendly, even tense. People watched them warily from windows and doorways, and even the inns where they occasionally stayed for the night were given to bouts of morose, guarded silence. The farther west the caravan traveled, the more hostile the atmosphere grew, and even the caravan leader admitted to being baffled. An explanation came when the caravan met up with the Ryuukaman knights. It was the demon attacks, the knights reported. The villages and towns in the west were practically under siege from mysterious armies of demons, and the attacks were slowly spreading eastward. When the Duchess had sent them to find the four travelers and guide them safely to Ryuukama, they had fully expected them to travel by ship as the roads had become too dangerous, and they were quite disturbed when they learned that the youngsters had chosen to go by caravan instead.
The caravan leader had roundly and vociferously defended his job's reputation. Why, of course the roads were safe. Perhaps all that dabbling in sorcery they did in the west attracted the demons, but the eastern lands were still free from attacks of the supernatural kind, and besides, there was no danger his guards couldn't handle. But as they drew steadily closer to the Deadlands, his assurances began to lose conviction as they came upon more and more scorched fields and abandoned houses, one of them with a moldy pot of stew still sitting in the cold hearth. Fear began to infect the caravan like a fever, and even the Ryuukaman knights rode with their hands gripping the hilts of their swords, their bodies tense and alert.
Finally, the caravan arrived at the last settlement at the border of the eastern lands, where they had intended to rest and ready themselves for the journey across the Deadlands. But the sight that greeted them filled them with horrified dismay. What had once been a large, bustling village was now a ghost town. Houses and inns stood empty, doors hung drunkenly on their hinges and window shutters creaked in the wind. Broken pieces of furniture littered the front yards, shattered pottery littered the alleys, and once or twice they came upon an arrow buried in a wooden post, rendered forever harmless. The wind stirred up gray swirls of dust in the streets, and that was all. The village was as silent as a graveyard.
The caravan leader gave a cry and jumped off. He had friends in this village, good friends, and they had all been excellent hunters, so it couldn't be, it couldn't be... Grief overtook all caution, and he ran pell-mell from house to house, calling out names, while his guards chased after him. The others began to wander off to search for signs of life, while a few more opportunistic ones trotted toward the inns to see if there weren't a few stray bits of ham and jugs of ale and with some luck maybe even a treasure or two. Despite the knights' stern warnings to stay together, two of the four young travelers eventually decided to do some investigating of their own and find out what could have happened to the villagers. It wasn't the utter stillness that spooked them the most, they announced; it was the lack of bodies. The knights had their suspicions, but even they couldn't explain how a demon raid could have left no corpses at all, not even a single dog or chicken to indicate that there had once been life in this village. After a brief shouting match between the knights and the tall, blond girl, it was decided that she and the white-haired boy, together with two of the knights, would go after the leader and his guards and herd them back to the caravan so that they could all put this unsettling place behind them as quickly as possible. With swords and lead pipe drawn, the four went off in the direction of the caravan leader's stricken cries, leaving three knights and their two companions behind.
One of the knights glanced at the golden-haired boy, who was sitting on a crate and staring at the street with vacant eyes. "You can See, can't you, Momiji-sama?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," was the equally soft reply.
"What do you See?"
"Many roads." The boy's voice sounded as if he were speaking from a great distance. "Many roads, but they all lead to one place. The enemy is watching us. His wings rain death upon the world. The blood of both will be the destroyer. The blood of both will be the savior." The last words were uttered with an odd, singsong quality, as if he were reciting some half-remembered nursery rhyme, and the knight reached out and caught the boy before he toppled off the crate.
"Momiji-sama, are you all right?"
The boy looked up into the worried faces of all three knights and laughed. "Sorry about that. I must be hungrier than I thought. Ah, I wish they hadn't let Haru lead the way. This place gives me the creeps."
"Kensuke's with them. He has an excellent sense of direction." The knight smiled, partly in relief and partly in reaction to the boy's bubbly energy. "For a moment, Momiji-sama, you reminded me of His Grace's daughter, Lady Kisa. She too has the Sight, and her visions have provided judicious guidance in times of need. You truly are of one blood," he added admiringly.
"But now Lady Kisa lies ill, and we are left to flounder without her visions," another knight said glumly. "What blasted timing too, what with His Grace fighting a war with those vile creatures."
The boy grinned. "Heeh? You three look gloomier than this place. Don't you worry, Knights-san. With Tohru beside her, Kisa-chan will be in good hands, ne, Tohru?"
He turned toward his companion, but the dark-haired girl had disappeared.
It was also true that the Ashari had lost men to Mizakan treachery, including the chieftain's adopted son. However, most believed that the boy had been killed outright, not just kidnapped as the stories in the city went, and the tribe had sworn to avenge the murders. Bitter though they might be, the Ashari were not fools, and would stay clear of port city itself until they had gained the numbers and strength needed to take a sizeable chunk out of Mizaka. Judging from the trouble that had just boiled over in the Outer City, that time was not too long in coming.
Still, there was an unmistakable sense of wrongness in the villages. Things were quiet, yes, but the mood was distinctly unfriendly, even tense. People watched them warily from windows and doorways, and even the inns where they occasionally stayed for the night were given to bouts of morose, guarded silence. The farther west the caravan traveled, the more hostile the atmosphere grew, and even the caravan leader admitted to being baffled. An explanation came when the caravan met up with the Ryuukaman knights. It was the demon attacks, the knights reported. The villages and towns in the west were practically under siege from mysterious armies of demons, and the attacks were slowly spreading eastward. When the Duchess had sent them to find the four travelers and guide them safely to Ryuukama, they had fully expected them to travel by ship as the roads had become too dangerous, and they were quite disturbed when they learned that the youngsters had chosen to go by caravan instead.
The caravan leader had roundly and vociferously defended his job's reputation. Why, of course the roads were safe. Perhaps all that dabbling in sorcery they did in the west attracted the demons, but the eastern lands were still free from attacks of the supernatural kind, and besides, there was no danger his guards couldn't handle. But as they drew steadily closer to the Deadlands, his assurances began to lose conviction as they came upon more and more scorched fields and abandoned houses, one of them with a moldy pot of stew still sitting in the cold hearth. Fear began to infect the caravan like a fever, and even the Ryuukaman knights rode with their hands gripping the hilts of their swords, their bodies tense and alert.
Finally, the caravan arrived at the last settlement at the border of the eastern lands, where they had intended to rest and ready themselves for the journey across the Deadlands. But the sight that greeted them filled them with horrified dismay. What had once been a large, bustling village was now a ghost town. Houses and inns stood empty, doors hung drunkenly on their hinges and window shutters creaked in the wind. Broken pieces of furniture littered the front yards, shattered pottery littered the alleys, and once or twice they came upon an arrow buried in a wooden post, rendered forever harmless. The wind stirred up gray swirls of dust in the streets, and that was all. The village was as silent as a graveyard.
The caravan leader gave a cry and jumped off. He had friends in this village, good friends, and they had all been excellent hunters, so it couldn't be, it couldn't be... Grief overtook all caution, and he ran pell-mell from house to house, calling out names, while his guards chased after him. The others began to wander off to search for signs of life, while a few more opportunistic ones trotted toward the inns to see if there weren't a few stray bits of ham and jugs of ale and with some luck maybe even a treasure or two. Despite the knights' stern warnings to stay together, two of the four young travelers eventually decided to do some investigating of their own and find out what could have happened to the villagers. It wasn't the utter stillness that spooked them the most, they announced; it was the lack of bodies. The knights had their suspicions, but even they couldn't explain how a demon raid could have left no corpses at all, not even a single dog or chicken to indicate that there had once been life in this village. After a brief shouting match between the knights and the tall, blond girl, it was decided that she and the white-haired boy, together with two of the knights, would go after the leader and his guards and herd them back to the caravan so that they could all put this unsettling place behind them as quickly as possible. With swords and lead pipe drawn, the four went off in the direction of the caravan leader's stricken cries, leaving three knights and their two companions behind.
One of the knights glanced at the golden-haired boy, who was sitting on a crate and staring at the street with vacant eyes. "You can See, can't you, Momiji-sama?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," was the equally soft reply.
"What do you See?"
"Many roads." The boy's voice sounded as if he were speaking from a great distance. "Many roads, but they all lead to one place. The enemy is watching us. His wings rain death upon the world. The blood of both will be the destroyer. The blood of both will be the savior." The last words were uttered with an odd, singsong quality, as if he were reciting some half-remembered nursery rhyme, and the knight reached out and caught the boy before he toppled off the crate.
"Momiji-sama, are you all right?"
The boy looked up into the worried faces of all three knights and laughed. "Sorry about that. I must be hungrier than I thought. Ah, I wish they hadn't let Haru lead the way. This place gives me the creeps."
"Kensuke's with them. He has an excellent sense of direction." The knight smiled, partly in relief and partly in reaction to the boy's bubbly energy. "For a moment, Momiji-sama, you reminded me of His Grace's daughter, Lady Kisa. She too has the Sight, and her visions have provided judicious guidance in times of need. You truly are of one blood," he added admiringly.
"But now Lady Kisa lies ill, and we are left to flounder without her visions," another knight said glumly. "What blasted timing too, what with His Grace fighting a war with those vile creatures."
The boy grinned. "Heeh? You three look gloomier than this place. Don't you worry, Knights-san. With Tohru beside her, Kisa-chan will be in good hands, ne, Tohru?"
He turned toward his companion, but the dark-haired girl had disappeared.
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