Heaven's Net Is Wide

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The footfall was light, barely discernible among all the myriad noises of the autumn forest-the rustle of leaves scattering in the northwesterly wind, the distant beating of wings as geese flew southward, the echoing sounds of the village far below-yet Isamu heard it and recognized it.

He put the digging tool down on the damp grass, along with the roots he had been collecting, and moved away from it. Its sharp blade spoke to him and he did not want to be tempted by any tool or weapon. He turned in the direction of his cousin’s approach and waited.

Kotaro came into the clearing invisible, in the way of the Tribe, but Isamu did not bother concealing himself in the same fashion. He knew all his cousin’s skills: they were almost the same age, Kotaro less than a year younger; they had trained together, striving always to outdo each other; they had been friends, of a sort, and rivals their entire life.

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