The square still buzzed like a kicked hive when Tsunade straightened fully and turned toward Jiro’s father. Dust clung to the edge of her light armor as she offered a short, formal incline of her head, showing her respectful side without being soft.
“Father of the Sage,” she said. “I am Tsunade, commander of this escort detachment from the Temple. It is an honor.”
Jiro’s father did not smile. His face had no expression of pleasantness toward her as he gave the smallest possible nod. One thick hand still stayed lightly against the small of his wife’s back.
Jiro’s mother nudged him with her elbow, with a sharp and quick hit. The look she shot him was pure “smile, you stubborn ox.” He ignored it for half a breath, then let a thin, polite curve touch his mouth. Though it still did not reach his eyes.
Tsunade’s gaze flicked between them once. Whatever she read there, she let it pass. This was the father of Sage after all. Of course he wouldn’t be like any normal person. That’s what she thought to herself before saying, “If it would not be an insult,” she said, voice pitched for the three of them alone, “might we speak somewhere quieter? There are matters best handled away from so many ears.”
Jiro’s father said nothing. He simply turned and started walking toward the narrow lane that led between two low storage sheds, away from the well and the thickest part of the crowd. Tsunade fell in beside him without another word. The broad-shouldered knight stayed where he was, still kneeling until she had given the order, and the villagers parted around the pair to let them pass.
Garin exhaled hard beside Jiro, the sound half laugh, and half disbelief.
“Oh my god, Jiro. Is this actually real? You’re the sage now? Like, the actual one?”
Jiro managed a small, crooked smile that felt too tight on his face. He had no words that would not sound stupid, so he just shrugged one shoulder. Garin’s eyes were still wide, but he seemed to understand the silence and only clapped him once on the back before the crowd pressed closer again, voices rising with fresh questions none of them could answer.
It did not take long.
When the two figures returned, Jiro’s father’s expression had settled into something more practical. He stopped in front of his son and rested a heavy hand on Jiro’s shoulder.
“Jiro. Take these people from the Temple back to our house and see that they are welcomed properly. I’ll arrange a place for the rest of the battalion to sleep tonight. They were in a hurry to leave with the sun still high, but I talked the commander into giving you one night to prepare and say your goodbyes.”
Jiro blinked. “Wait… journey? To where?”
Tsunade answered before his father could. Her tone was even, professional, but there was a faint edge of impatience under it, as though the delay already sat poorly with her orders.
“To the capital, of course. You are the Fourteenth Sage, Jiro-sama. The Temple and the court expect your presence. That is the entire reason a full escort was dispatched. We would have preferred to move while daylight was still strong, but your father made a reasonable case that a night of preparation would serve everyone better.”
Jiro’s mother’s fingers dug into his arm hearing words of leaving home.
“Wait… Goodbyes?” Her voice climbed half an octave. “Why goodbyes? Isn’t the usual custom for the sage to return to the place of their birth once the formal summons is complete?”
Seeing how even after being from this backwater village, this time’s sage’s mother was even aware of the history of the past sages this well, Tsunade’s impression of Jiro’s family went up a notch.
His father glanced at her, then at the watching faces still hovering nearby. He kept his voice low but firm.
“That was for normal times, dear. You know how the realm has been without a sage for half a century. The need for a sage is greater now than ever before. So, he’ll be stationed at the Temple in the capital for several years before any long return is considered.”
“No.” The word came out sharp. She pulled Jiro half a step closer, as though the distance to the capital already existed between them. “He can’t just leave home like that. How is he supposed to live so far from us?”
Tsunade opened her mouth to say something, but Jiro’s father lifted a hand slightly, and she closed it again.
“It’s all right, honey. The capital isn’t the other side of the world. It will only take two or three days by train if the schedule holds. If you miss him, we can go whenever you like. Nothing stops us.”
She still looked pale. The proud flush from earlier had drained completely. Jiro felt the tremor in the arm she had wrapped around his. Something tight and familiar twisted in his chest, the same feeling that always came when she used that particular tone, the one that had kept him from ever renting a room of his own. He turned and pulled her into a brief, careful hug, chin resting against her hair for a second.
“It’s okay, Mom. They’re not taking me away forever. I’ll be back before you know it.”
His father watched them for a moment, then nodded once.
“Come on, dear. Don’t cling to him that tightly. They’re staying the night, aren’t they? No point getting restless before the leaving even starts. Let’s get the rest of them settled first.”
He gave Jiro a look that said handle your mother, then gestured for the broad-shouldered knight to follow. The two men headed deeper into the village toward the larger storage buildings that sometimes served as temporary lodging when traders passed through. As this was very far from any kind of town, having an Inn was unnecessary, as no traders usually passed through here.
As the soldiers followed Jiro’s father, the crowd reluctantly parted for them, though more than a few people still lingered, whispering and staring.
That left Jiro, his mother, and Tsunade, along with three other female knights with her.
They also started walking toward the eastern edge of the village, the direction of home, when Jiro’s father left. Behind them, the square slowly began to break apart, but a thin trail of the more curious villagers followed at a polite distance, voices low and speculative. Dust rose around their feet. The morning air still carried the damp-earth smell of the fields, mixed now with the sharper scent of metal and travel-worn leather from Tsunade’s armor.
No one spoke for the first stretch of the path. Jiro’s mother kept one hand lightly on his arm, as though she needed the contact to believe he was still there. Tsunade walked on his other side, posture straight, eyes moving occasionally over the simple houses, drying fish and clothes on strings without comment.
Their single-room house looked smaller than usual when they reached it. The shutters were still half-open from the morning, as there wasn’t much fear of getting anything stolen in this village. The smell of stewed roots lingered faintly under the eaves.
Inside, Jiro gestured toward the low table and the floor cushions. Tsunade removed her gauntlets with practiced efficiency and sat with the same controlled grace she had shown in the square. Jiro’s mother fetched a clay jug and some cups, pouring water without being asked. Her hands were steadier now, though her eyes still flicked to Jiro every few seconds.
After all of her subordinates got to quench their thirst, Tsunade accepted the cup with a small nod of thanks, then glanced around the room. Seeing the hanging cloth that divided the sleeping space, the simple shelves, and the well-worn table, she nodded to herself.
“Hmm… So this is the place our sage has lived until now,” she said. Her voice had lost some of its public edge. “It is… cozy.”
Jiro managed an awkward smile that felt too wide and not wide enough at the same time. Heat crept up the back of his neck. He was suddenly, painfully aware of how small and cramped the house must look to someone who had ridden from the capital. With thin walls, one room, and the faint lingering musk of his parents having sex that never quite left no matter how often the shutters were opened, he felt a little ashamed in their place.
His mother caught the expression Jiro was making, and the corner of her mouth softened, just a little. Thinking Jiro was feeling shy around the lady knight, the earlier panic had eased enough for her to notice her son’s embarrassment. She sat down beside him and poured her own water; the small domestic motion seemed to be grounding the moment in her head at least.
Jiro’s thoughts, however, had already started running in a different direction entirely.
‘Wait.’
‘If I am leaving for the capital…’
‘If I’m actually going to be gone for years…’
‘Didn’t that mean I would finally escape this house? So, I will finally be freed from this house?’
The realization landed so suddenly it almost made him dizzy. Relief, sharp and guilty, mixed with the lingering shock of the crest on his arm, made him think: why hadn’t that been the first thing he thought of?
He cleared his throat and looked at Tsunade.
“So… Miss?”
She set her cup down. “Tsunade is fine. Or Commander, if formality sits better with you.”
“Tsunade-san, then.” He still felt the word sit strangely in his mouth. “When are we actually leaving? And…Well, how exactly? I didn’t see any caravan or carriage in the square. How did all of you even get here?”
“Hmm, most of the detachment traveled on foot from the nearest station after we left the capital train,” she answered. “And a smaller group, including myself and a few others, rented horses for the final stretch so we could arrive ahead and confirm the oracle’s vision without delay.”
Jiro’s mother let out a soft, almost fond sound.
“Silly boy. Did you forget there’s a direct train line from the capital all the way out to the station near Doldia? Why would they need a caravan or carriage?”
Jiro blinked. The knowledge had been there, somewhere in the back of his mind, stories from his fellow villagers who had visited outside of this village, but it had never been real to him. After all, Jiro, even after being 18 this year, had never left the village. The idea of a train was as general as the capital itself to him.
“Oh. Right. Sorry. That was… really silly of me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never left the village, so I guess the station never felt real enough to remember, haha!”
Tsunade’s expression stayed polite, even kind.
“It’s understandable. Many who grow up far from the towns have the same reaction.”
She said it gently. Jiro still felt the faint, unmistakable sense that somewhere behind the courtesy she had filed him under “country bumpkin who has never seen a train.” The thought made the tips of his ears warm. He stared at the water in his cup and tried not to look as rural as he suddenly felt.