🌬️Chronicles 04. “BEGINNINGS”

🌄 When Akino was a toddler Hoshino shared his love of story and language. Every morning he would lift her to greet the sun. Hoshino - father, farmer, fighter - was in his element. The light of his life loved dawn, a time just for them and those birds blessing new days with song. 

👐 Lifetimes later, Akino’s Viking friend Ragnar powered a commandeered taxi hard through barricades and gunfire. Adrenaline became mutual shock as bullet shattered windshield and a sinewy raven entered the car, shaking glass shards from sleek wings. The three collapsed, cackling. 

🐲 Childhood lessons anchored Akino however dark and wrong life turned. Dad’s words were simple, never shallow. Hope – the name her mother took on becoming a priest – was more fanciful. Her tales might feature crimson dragons or ice palaces. Sense took weeks to emerge, often when she’d point to the night sky. 

“See the constellation shaped like a bull? Start with its head, follow the neck.” 

“Mom, that is not a bull.” 

“Watch my finger. See a twinkling star where its kidney would be? When you were born, that bull was further south.” 

“Isn’t his kidney where he makes pee? Do we have to do this?” 

“When I’m away - more priest than mother - wanting RoOlz to speak with me, I miss you and your father…That star reminds me of us all together.” 

“You’d rather spend time with a statue than your husband and daughter. RoOlz? He’s just bullshit.”