( imeeji ) memory registry

[worthathousand]

	DATE	LINK
亜子 Ako	day 75	you lift it anyway
Hero Worshipped	day 111	it has been my dream to live by your example
Alone in the Fields	day 111	the rice stalks sway
The Wyld Hunt pt. 1	day 127	your heretic chosen
The Wyld Hunt, pt. 2	day 127	the fate of those who lose their will to demons
Joined with Shiho	day 199	kimono in Serenity blue
A Fight for Father	day 201	once there was a maiden
The War Yeddim	day 201	the battle is a song
General Ascendant	day 201	white lily of war
Calibration Stories	day 201	born an exception
Shrine Maiden	day 260	you are my child of peace
First Battle	day 260	cries of the injured and dying
Shiho's Illness	day 260	a season of cold and fever
Meet-Cute	day 451	Tits, indeed.
Imagining a Future	day 456	"What do you want to do, after?"
TBD	---	---
TBD	---	---

full registry on trello

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[worthathousand]

You tap your fingers against the wooden frame of the window; light diffuses through the washi, warm against your callused but unscarred hands. Just outside, you can hear the sound of young recruits—the call and response of the drill, the sound of wooden training staves against stones.

Sliding the frame aside, you to look out into the courtyard. Not many of them this year—barely a full scale—but perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps, at long last, Tsubaki Province can move away from war. More men than you'd expected, too—far less than half, but you count at least eight of them among the assembled.

One young man (he may look familiar to some here, though he looks much younger than in those memories) in particular stands out: taller by several inches than his comrades and, by the lanky look of him, still growing. His white gold hair seems ill-inclined to stay within its topknot; he slams his bō down with the completion of the drill, and a lock of hair slides loose to drape across his face. For a moment the young man next to him has to stifle a laugh, and he winks at him.

You smile to yourself, but you had better get out there before they entirely lose track of their discipline. Pushing aside the sliding door, you step out into the sunlight—and the recruits before you are instantly at alert. "It's really her," you can hear some of them whisper to each other. "She's so short?" one of them says, then gets elbowed for her trouble, and you hide your mouth with one hand so they don't see your amusement. The tall blond youth is simply silent with awe, his eyes widened with a combination of reverence and something like desire: not sexual, but rather ambition.

For the several hours, you drill them as hard as you are able: wind sprints and push-ups that lead to group combat drills—both supporting one another and practicing fighting outnumbered. You are pleasantly surprised to see that a fair few of them have potential, but the blond youth stands out as particularly excelling. He already knows how to use his reach to his advantage, has the strength and stamina to match, and the prospect of taking on an unfair number of foes seems to invigorate rather than cow him. But when it is his turn to lead a fang of fellow students in an exercise, you quickly note him getting frustrated, impatient. The young woman who should have been his second talks over him, coming up with a strategy when he had clearly been prepared to simply rush in and let the others follow his lead.

For their last challenge, you invite the whole scale of them to take you on, advising them to employ everything they've learned about coordination and supporting one another's strengths. (Their murmuring goes nervous and excited once more.) Then they come at you as a single force. There is just a flicker of a smile on your lips as you weave among them, bō whirling as you alternately vault around your weapon and whip it at the feet of your "enemies." Whenever a student misses, she is sent tumbling into her comrades. Eventually, all but three have been toppled into the paving stones: two women and the tall blond, assembling together into a well-ordered formation. You could easily take them on too, if you needed to, but instead you step back, and bow.

"Well done, all of you." You beam at them, genuinely pleased, though you have not even broken a sweat.

The afternoon's training concludes as the sun starts to purple on the horizon. By then, the recruits' faces are sweat-streaked but resolute, and they rub at their bruised limbs with pride: they know the chance to train with you comes but once a season.

You are preparing to leave as the recruits begin to clean up, change, and pack their training equipment, when you hear the sound of a young man clearing his throat behind you.

"Excuse me? Lady ▒▒▒▒▒?"

You turn around and are not entirely surprised to see the tall blond behind you. For all his bluster among his fellows, though, he looks nervous now, and can't quite keep his hands from fidgeting with the fabric of his haori.

"Yes?" You smile, trying to put him at ease.

He gives you a deep bow. "My name is Miura Hiroto. It- it has been my dream to live by your example, my lady."

"To retire, you mean?" It's a jest, though you keep your voice kind.

Hiroto's jaw only sets, though. "No, my lady. Though, I- I mean no disrespect! I mean, though... I would fight as you did, defending the province against all its enemies! Standing before soldiers who share that passion, and leading them with faith in ourselves and the gods." There is a blaze of passion in his dark eyes, now, and you cannot help but recognize it.

So you give him a respectful nod. "It is a noble dream, young lord, and you may well have the potential." His chest near-swells with pride. "But. For all the fame to my name, the honor I have earned in war is not truly my own. It comes from the soldiers who served around me. You are strong, but in war, you are only as strong as the weakest among your scale; only as valorous as the most frightened."

Hiroto's brows furrow with thought, but he stays respectfully silent. "The meaning of this is not that you must cull the weak from the fold like a shepherd, but rather that you must see that all among you have rich soil in which to grow. You know—like a rice farmer."

With a wink, you give him a parting bow. You can feel Hiroto's eyes still on you as you turn to leave once more.

-------------------------

Notes:

• Amaranth still looks about 20 in this memory, while the recruits, including Hiroto, look around 17-18. Nevertheless, they all were clearly treating her with the kind of reverence due to a respected elder.
• Something that Amaranth can tell, though it won't be apparent to the viewer, is that she is channeling a low amount of Essence, or magical energy, when she takes on the entire group of young soldiers.
• Memory includes recalled knowledge of military structure in the Age of Sorrows:
  Dragon 1250 (2 Wings)
  Wing 625 (5 Talons)
  Talon 125 (5 Scales)
  Scale 25 (5 Fangs)
  Fang 5