The path to the western side of the village felt longer than usual, with the weight of Garin’s excitement dragging Jiro forward. Dust rose in soft puffs under their feet as they joined the growing stream of villagers. Conversations overlapped in low, urgent murmurs that mixed with the creak of the old well’s rope and the distant cluck of chickens that had been left loose to find worms around the area.
The square itself was little more than a wide patch of packed earth around the stone well, but today it looked different, crowded, restless, suggesting something bigger than the daily grind this village usually faces might have come into this outskirts village.
Jiro spotted his parents near the edge of the crowd. His mother’s dark hair caught the morning light, still tied in that simple knot, and his father’s broad frame and white hair stood half a head above most of the men around him. The man’s arm rested against her lower back in that same casual claim from breakfast, but the expression he had now on his face was something harder to read for Jiro. He pushed through the last few bodies of men in that crowd until he stood beside them.
“What’s going on, Mom?” he asked in a low voice.
His mother opened her mouth, but the words never came.
A clear, loud, carrying voice cut through her and the other villagers' voices in the square from the front of the gathering.
“People of Doldia! Hear the word carried from the Temple and confirmed by the sacred oracle of our country!”
The speaker was a man in polished armor that looked almost out of place against the dirt and thatch wall of the well behind him. His posture was rigid, one gloved hand raised for attention. The murmur of the crowd died in uneven waves until only the soft creak of leather and the occasional shift of feet remained, and then he spoke.
“Our realm has been blessed to have another sage born into us once more!” the knight continued. “And by the oracle’s vision, the sage seems to have his origin this time in this very village!”
A ripple moved through the people around Jiro. Someone near the well muttered, “A sage… here?”
Another voice, sharper, cut in: “Wait….Did he say “his origin”? This time’s sage is a male? The last one was a woman, wasn’t she? So this time it’s a man?”
The knight raised his voice again, drowning out the side comments. “Rejoice, people of Doldia! The oracle has confirmed it without doubt. The Fourteenth Sage of the Kingdom of Licia is drawing his breath among you. The Temple sends its greetings and its congratulations to this land.”
Shock hit the square in uneven waves. Faces that had already heard the rumor carried knowing, almost smug little smiles. And the rest looked like they had been struck between the eyes. Jiro’s mother stared straight ahead, lips parted, the soft flush from earlier completely gone. Jiro glanced sideways at his father. The man’s jaw was set, eyes narrowed just slightly, but whatever thought sat behind them stayed locked away.
Before Jiro could ask anything else, a broad-shouldered figure in heavier armor pushed through the front ranks and stopped directly in front of him. The knight’s gauntleted hand shot out and seized Jiro’s left wrist with enough force to make the bones protest.
“Hey…what the hell? Who are you?!”
Jiro tried to yank free. But the grip only tightened. In one smooth motion, the knight shoved the sleeve of Jiro’s tunic up past the elbow, exposing the pale skin of his forearm to the morning light and every staring eye in the square.
The man’s voice boomed across the packed earth.
“Our sage is here, Miss Tsunade!”
Silence crashed down harder than the earlier announcement. Jiro’s pulse hammered in his ears. He followed the direction of the knight’s gaze and felt like everything around him stopped as he saw the woman coming toward his direction.
She came through the crowd like the path had been cleared for her alone. She was taller than most of the men present, with long hair the color of sun-bleached wheat that moved against her back with every step she took. Her armor was lighter than the knight’s, designed more for movement than pure defense, and it did nothing to hide the solid strength in her shoulders and arms. But it was the aura that hit hardest. Something heavy and commanding rolled off her in quiet waves, the kind of presence that made the air itself feel thicker. She was just as beautiful in a sharp way, and uncompromising in a way that even her walking posture looked beautiful to Jiro. People stepped aside without being told when she was walking through to them to get here.
She reached here in 10 long strides, took one look at the knight still gripping Jiro’s arm, and brought her open palm down across the back of the guy’s armored shoulder. A loud crack sound suddenly echoed off the area as she gave a long slap to the guy’s back.
The knight staggered half a step, then straightened and rubbed the spot like the blow had been little more than a reminder.
“You fool,” Tsunade said, voice low and edged with genuine anger. “You were ordered to remain at the rear until I gave the signal. Why are you standing here manhandling our sage like a common recruit? Who gave you that permission?”
The knight’s throat worked once. “Sorry, Commander. I thought it was best to confirm that the crest on our sage matched the oracle’s description before…”
Tsunade’s boot connected with the side of his knee in a short, precise kick, stopping the man from speaking further. He dropped half a pace, armor plates clanking, then forced himself upright again.
“And who exactly do you think you are to perform that confirmation?” she continued, each word clipped. “Your actions imply that the Holy Knights of the Temple themselves lack faith in the new oracle’s revelations. Do you understand the kind of rumor that spreads from a single public doubt like this? Do you?”
Jiro stood frozen, wrist still hurting a little and watching the exchange with the distant sense that he had stepped into someone else’s story. The casual force behind both the slap and the kick left no doubt that these two were something far beyond ordinary soldiers. After all, the impact alone had carried weight that should have broken ordinary people’s bones.
Then the words about the crest finally registered in his mind.
He shoved his own sleeve higher. The morning light caught on something that should not have been there.
There was a mark. Dark against his skin, lines and curves that formed a crest he had never seen before in his life. This was no ink he recognized. And he didn’t have any birthmark here either, as far as he knew. Nor did he get into any incident to have this mark form on him. The star-shaped mark looked like it belonged there from the very beginning.
Seeing this, his stomach dropped.
Villagers in the forest often carried tattoos, simple marks so their bodies could still be identified if something in the woods happened to them. But Jiro had always refused. The idea of scarring his skin for the sake of identification had never sat right. He knew every inch of his own arms. This mark had not existed when he went to sleep last night, too. And it certainly had not existed when he washed his face this morning, either. Yet here it was, staring back at him right now, as if it had appeared out of nowhere.
Tsunade finally turned fully toward him. The anger drained from her expression, replaced by something closer to formal respect. She dropped to one knee on the packed earth without hesitation. After a beat, the knight followed, head bowed. The entire crowd gasped at the sight.
“Sage-sama,” she said, voice clear enough to carry. “I offer my deepest apologies for the discomfort caused by my subordinate’s overeagerness. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this unworthy fool. And you….” She shot a sidelong look at the kneeling knight “....stay down until I say otherwise.”
Jiro’s mouth opened to say something to her. But seeing her kneeling posture, he couldn’t find anything in his mind to say to her.
“Uhh, Miss, I…I think there must be some kind of mistake,” he managed to say this. The words felt thin against the weight of every staring face at him. “I-I’m just an average person. I grind herbs. I don’t- how could I be the one you’re looking for? A sage?”
Tsunade lifted her head. Her eyes were steady, certain. But to Jiro, they looked like they held no lie toward him.
“The crest on your arm is the proof, Sage-sama. Only those chosen to be Sage have it. The Temple has kept records of every detail of a Sage across the centuries for exactly this moment. There is no error. You are the Fourteenth Sage of Licia. There is no doubt about that.”
The square seemed to tilt hearing that. Jiro stared down at the mark again and dragged his other hand across it, hard, as if friction alone might scrape the impossible thing away. The skin stayed marked. Heat rose up the back of his neck.
‘What the fuck! How did this happen overnight? Am I still dreaming right now?’
A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind.
His mother’s embrace was tight, almost fierce, and the soft, heavy press of her chest against his back made heat of an entirely different kind climb his face. They were the same height now. He had grown enough that her chin could rest against his shoulder if she wanted. The contact felt too intimate for the middle of the village square, and the shy, instinctive urge to pull away warred in Jiro’s mind with the knowledge that pulling away would only make the moment louder.
“I knew it,” she said, voice bright with pride that cut straight through the shock. “I knew my boy would become someone great. Didn’t I tell you, dear?” She turned her head toward Jiro’s father without loosening her hold. “I told you, didn’t I? That our child will be someone great one day?!”
His father stepped forward. The man’s usual crooked smile had returned, though it carried a different edge now, something closer to rough amusement mixed with the same heavy pride.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, loud enough for the nearest villagers to hear. “Just what is expected from my son. Well done, boy. You have made your mother proud.”
Though he said it like he was happy too, Jiro couldn’t see the man form any kind of smile on his face.
Seeing the broad guy resembling Jiro’s face, she rose to greet him.