I don't know where I should begin, but apparently my return became something of a huge deal.

It began with the Karura picking me up.

I need to first make this very clear: our village doesn't have Karura.

Once more for emphasis.

Our village doesn't have Karura.

We do have Karura occasionally come over for when a criminal must be Fallen, but those rarely ever happen. The Falling is punishment of the highest degree to the entire Kunoi Cluster, after all, and not a lot of crimes get charged with Falling. We also have routine inspection from the Karura, but usually only one or two soldiers come along to review the village conditions and talk to Father, since Father is the village chief.

Father was former Karura. So was his father before him, and so on, and so forth until we get to the very founder of Takamatsu Village. The Takamatsu name was always tied to the Karura, in fact, that I believe Tsubasa nii-san will succeed Father as a Karura, too.

However, they never took Karura work back home. If anything, they really only settle here after they were done with all the Karura work they had to do. They would retire, and then become part of the village.

Oh, yeah, by the way, despite being Gekka's hatch-sister and living as a Takamatsu child, my surname is Karasumori, not Takamatsu. I have no idea why. Father wouldn't explain it to me, so I couldn't explain it to anybody else.

So, back to the topic—our village doesn't have Karura.

So what are all these soldiers doing here?

The leader of the dispatch team was apparently the soldier who greeted me and confirmed my identity. The man folded his wings over me, as if to protect me, and carefully escorted me back into the village. As we went through the gates, I finally realized that we had a whole audience.

"What are you doing?"

"Matriarch Kunoi sent us to recover and protect you," he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Me?"

"Yes. You."

"Why?"

"We don't know."

I think back to the juhi I read about the Karura. "So you just follow those orders?"

"Yes."

"Huh." I know I wouldn't have been able to, but hey, that's me.

On one hand, I have to admit that an escort back into the village after everything I've gone through was rather nice. Like back in the Totara Pendent, I felt like I was being protected. If their job was really to recover and protect me, and they don't question their orders, then they shouldn't hurt me, right?

On the other hand, a few things.

First, I can't help but wonder—Matriarch Kunoi. The very Queen of the entire Cluster. The ruler of everything that is Kunoi, and bearer of the Cluster's name; the core of Kunoi Village, the capital of the Cluster, and master to the brave Karura.

What does she want with me?

Why did she send so many Karura just to recover me?

How did she know she had to recover me? Did someone tell her I was Fallen?

What is going on?

All that aside, the second thing: I couldn't move like this.

With the Karura escorting me, I couldn't bring myself to see my family, let alone Gekka's friends.

How was I going to do what I must?

"I'm sorry—where are we going?"

"We'll head to Kunoi Village where the Matriarch wishes to talk with you," the Karura leader said. "She promises to answer any and all questions you may have—including those about yourself. She promised that she knows the answer to all your questions. But first, we'll head to the Takamatsu house. We need to address your injuries. The Matriarch would be saddened to see you with those scars."

Including those about yourself.

... will I finally understand why I was wingless? Will I finally understand why my ears look different?

Will I finally understand what I really am?

As he said, we arrived in no time at the roost. My audience just grew even thicker. The leader signaled to the rest of his team, one of whom finally went to the door and made the call.

"This is the Karura, Raven Recovery Dispatch. Please open your doors posthaste."

Raven Recovery Dispatch?

The door to the house opened—to the face of my mother.

She scanned her surroundings, noticed the Karura soldiers, realized she was having a very large audience comprising of the entire village, and her eyes finally landed on the focus of the Karura: me.

I have never seen such horror on her face before.

No. Horror is putting it lightly. Not only was it something significantly greater than that, it's also nothing quite as simple. So many emotions rippled through her eyes—fear, confusion, panic, relief ... anger? I couldn't be sure. All I could tell was that she did not expect me to be there.

"Dear," she mouthed, agape and barely with a breath exhaled. "D—Dear! Dear! They found Miyako!"

I couldn't help myself—I raised my voice. "No."

The crowd suddenly fell deathly silent. So silent that we could hear the noises of someone emerging from inside the house—it was Father.

Like Mother, his expression betrayed the terror he definitely felt.

"They did not find me," I said as I looked them right in the face. "I found them."

The team leader cleared his throat, as if to ease the sharp tension in the air. "Well ... the cyocalus could've killed you, which was why we restrained him anyway before getting to you."

"I've killed one," I retorted. "And I've destroyed one eye on the remaining cyocalus. I would've killed it just fine."

A collective quiet gasp, followed by whispers that only seem to get louder. The team leader cleared his throat again. "Well, good thing we got to you before it comes down to that. Sir, Ma'am, may we please come in? We need to treat her wounds."

"O-of course," Father said. Well, not that he could do much against the Karura. Any other person might've had reasons, but not him—he's supposed to be the representative of the village, after all, and the Karura were here to represent the Matriarch. Villages don't challenge the Matriarch.

The moment I went inside, everyone would disperse. I couldn't have that, could I? I haven't found those responsible for my Fall, after all. "Can we keep the door open, at least?" I asked.

Father was very clearly uncomfortable, but he tried dishing a very awkward diplomatic smile. "But it's safer inside the house to heal your wounds—"

"Because I'll be leaving right after this," I cut. I looked at the team leader. "Right?"

I think he got my signal. "Yes."

Oh. That's surprising. I thought he would be a little more annoyed with me after what I just pulled. I didn't expect him to play along.

"Oh, also—" I open my korowai, but I didn't let it fall off my shoulders. "I'm more used to the open air, anyway. Not a lot of cover down there."

My father was unmistakably fuming, but he didn't say a word.

*

The healing is performed by the village physician. He is an old man, but he is versed in the herbs and medicines and his body has yet to betray his abilities. Frankly, apart from the scars I got from the chelychelynechen battle—and maybe the bushy strata skirmishes—I doubt I have any injuries of note. That said, the Karura requested that I be healed, so I still take off my korowai, folding it carefully, and keeping it by my side.

I refuse to take my belt and sling off, but the physician says it's normal for a girl my age to not want to take my accessories off. I let him go with that story, and he checks my body for scars. In the end, he decides to concoct something for the long scratching scar on my arm.

While we wait, with the doors open, I can finally pick up on why my return was such a big deal.

There was, of course, the fact that I was technically a Takamatsu child. I hear from the whispering outside that apparently my Fall was found out pretty quickly—one day after the Fall. My mother began asking questions when I didn't come home after dinner. I usually went home at night, before dinner, because of Father's strict rule about dining together.

On the day I Fell, I didn't come home when they were about to go to bed.

To my surprise, the first person to bring up the possibility of me Falling (instead of running away or the like) was the Hallkeeper.

"Miyako is stubborn," she apparently said. "She would not have done it like this if she were leaving this place."

The Hallkeeper, as someone sent from Kunoi Village, had a share of her voice. My mother apparently agreed with her, and the Hallkeeper—suspicious that I didn't come to the articularium at all that day—decided to pull a little stunt.

She pushed the school to announce that the adults would launch an investigation about my whereabouts the day I went missing.

"It was that night that Gekka confessed to me," my mother says through her tears. "She just wanted to help you observe the Precipice. She didn't expect you to Fall. I'm so glad you're alright."

No way. "I'm sorry. What?"

Mother seems surprised by my response. "She ... she just wanted to help you observe the Precipice," she says, her confusion very visible. "So—"

"And I wanted to observe the Precipice why, exactly?"

Mother's words apparently got caught in her throat. "I—I thought it was a school assignment? You are very studious, after all."

And why do you think that is?! "Did Aketa-sensei mention anything like that?"

She falls silent. I sigh.

"Didn't Miss Hallkeeper tell you? I've always gone to the articularium after school. Why would I go to the Precipice?"

My mother doesn't answer.

"Alright. Then what happened?"

Mother looks at Father, like asking for help. Father sighs. "I reported your Fall to Matriarch Kunoi."

I don't respond. To the Kunoi, to Fall is considered the same as to die. In other words, he reports my death.... "Why?"

"All Falls must be accounted for," he says. "But apart from that ... it's because your egg was my responsibility."

I tilt my head a little. My father scowls.

"It was a duty from the Matriarch, alright?" he grunts. "It was why we couldn't move to Kunoi Village. We planned for it after Sora and Tobi were born, because I stayed there for a while and thought it would be a good opportunity. But when your mother was brooding for Gekka, Matriarch Kunoi called me. She gave me an egg."

Father looks away. I'm not sure where. Maybe he's wary of the open doors? He's been very careful about making sure that he isn't loud enough that the people outside could hear what he said, but if I can hear the whispers from outside, maybe it's not that hard for those outside to hear what's being said in here.

"She said to care for the egg, and whoever hatches from it shall be family to the sunbird with which they hatch. However, you didn't hatch with any sunbird at all. You hatched early, accompanied by that ... that freak of a crow." Father sighs. "We figured, if there are no sunbirds with you, might as well treat that crow as one. So we named you Karasumori."

Karasumori means forest of crows. I suppose coming with a single immortal raven kind of brings that sort of image to mind. In terms of my given name, however, it's much simpler. I hatched before the rest of my hatch-brood. Everybody hatched in the morning, including my hatch-sister Gekka, but I hatched in the night before that. Apparently, the night I hatched was a full white moon's night, so I was named Miyako, meaning 'child of a beautiful night'.

"We delayed the move for until you and Gekka have come of age. Either way—the messenger took six days to arrive at Kunoi Village, and six days later, the Karura arrived. They've been sweeping every stratum below us since to look for you."

"I didn't see them at all," I say.

"It may be how we conducted our sweeps," the Karura leader says. "A stratum is very large, after all. You may have climbed up where we have not swept, or the direct opposite—coming up where we swept and didn't find you because you were still a stratum lower when we swept that part. Either way, it is incredibly easy to miss someone when you're sweeping a stratum."

I suppose that does make my meeting with Kura rather miraculous, all things considered. I had to Fall from the right position in the Tree so that Kura could see me, come after me, and break my fall. That took a lot of luck.

We all fall silent for a while. "In other words," I start, "if not for the Hallkeeper's efforts, Gekka would never have admitted that she Fell me, and none of you would have searched for me. Is that true?"

"No!" Mother suddenly jolts up. "No, that is not true! I searched for you!"

"Mother, you didn't even know my own habits. What did you expect to find?"

"There's no need for that tone, Miyako!" Father raises his voice. "I did not remember raising you to be so improper."

"You did not raise me, Father. You fed me and gave me shelter."

"And what is that if not raising you?!"

He stands up. He does that when he gets angry and needs to get his point across—he is, after all, a former Karura, and the Karura have really good postures that make them feel intimidating. I was always intimidated by that: I knew that I would have to cower down if I still wanted to have a canopy over me when I sleep.

This time, however, I notice just how small he is compared to ... well, anything, really. He's nowhere as tall as a chelychelynechen. He's nowhere as big as a great lapwing. He's nowhere as terrifying as a frogmouth ready to pounce. He's nowhere as scary to see as an anthops.

He's nothing like the cyocaluses guarding our gates.

I could handle all of those beasts. Why wouldn't I be able to handle him?

Why was I afraid of him at all, really?

For the first time in my life, I stand right up to meet his gaze. "That is keeping a pet, Father," I say. "And I am not your pet."

I have never seen my father's face so red, but I've also never seen him this confused. It's as if he has no idea what to do now that I talk back. He raises a hand—probably to slap me.

A few things happened at once.

I usually cowered and covered my head. Father's slaps hit hard, and I needed to protect my head. However, after constantly feeling danger for probably nearly a whole month, I only realize that I don't even need to cower—I can just cover my head with one arm.

My other arm readies the bone spear.

However, a hand comes in between me and Father.

It's one of the Karura.

The Karura leader, to my surprise, is already behind my father, holding his arm, stopping him from landing that slap.

"Sir, we will have to warn you that the protection of Karasumori Miyako is a duty entrusted to us by Matriarch Kunoi," he sternly says. "Should you intend to do her any harm, we will take that as an action against the Matriarch."

"Tch!" my father pulls his hand back. Then, and only then, does he seem to realize that my stance was one that was very ready to retaliate against him. He seems to consider that for a moment.

"A-anyway!" the physician awkwardly raises his voice. "I believe the healing is mostly done! This salve should do good. Just apply it once more tonight and your arm will heal, Karasumori-sama."

I sigh, but then put my arms down. "Thank you," I say as I bow to the physician. He bows back, still just as awkwardly.

"Oh, no! It's no problem. At all. I wish you a speedy recovery."

With that, he hurries away out of the house. I look at my father, then at my father. There's no sign of Gekka anywhere. "Where is Gekka?"

My father snaps. "What would you do with her?"

"Where is she?"

"Answer me!"

I stare him down. "You know what really happened, Father?"

He does not answer. I pick up my korowai, calmly wearing the thing—ah, it feels good to be back in here. I need more fruits, Kotengu. Spread as many of them as you can find out there.

Kawk!

While we waited, with the doors open, I could finally pick up on why my return was such a big deal. There was, of course, the fact that I was technically a Takamatsu child.

The other reason was that because Falling means death.

I am the only person to ever come back from the dead.

I walk out of the house with the Karura following me. Father and Mother seem to also reluctantly follow.

"I've always made a habit of going to the articularium after school," I said. "My classmates, see, they never seemed particularly happy about having me in class. Aketa-sensei doesn't seem very thrilled, either. So, I thought, why stay there? Why not just go somewhere much ... calmer?"

I look around. Here, outside, I can see the faces of the villagers, one by one. Nearly every single face is familiar, and yet—I can't recall a single name.

Not anymore.

I've only ever seen their expression of disdain. I've never seen any other faces here.

It's frankly refreshing to see how shocked they are. What, never seen someone come back from the dead before? Tough luck.

"So, that day, I was planning to do the same as always. I wanted to go to articularium. But, ah ... there were classmates who didn't like that. Apparently, they wanted to play with me. And by with, I mean of the using kind." I stop my slow pacing and turn around to see my father in the face. "And you know what they did?"

Kawk!

Three pieces of fruit, the size I usually sling, fall from the sky. Nobody seems to really notice. Good.

I walk in the direction of those fruits. The villagers open a path.

"They took me to the Precipice. Then, they held me by my arms," I say. "Afterwards, one of them throws me up into the air. Another one catches me, swings me around once, then throws me to the next. They all do this by flying."

I chuckle.

"Because they know I can't fly. It would've been very funny if I fell off the Precipice, right?"

Nobody answers.

Kawk!

Three more fruits on the ground nearby. Some villagers start to notice the fruits raining from the sky as Kotengu goes back and forth to fetch me more.

"So, guess what? That's exactly what happened!" I open up both of my arms suddenly, and some of the villagers take a surprised step back. "I Fell! Exactly as you people wanted!"

The uncomfortable silence continues.

"However, I didn't just Fall, did I?" I take my sling off. "I also came back. And I still remember that day like it was yesterday. I can even name those classmates if you want."

I turn to my father, whose face paled like he's seen a ghost, and flash my prettiest smile to the Karura.

"Would you guys prefer that? You are the peacekeepers of Kunoi, after all."

The silence breaks into a storm of whispers and hushed murmurs.

"Miyako," Father starts. "Be very careful about what you say next."

That expression—oh, is that supposed to be a threat? "Sure. The first classmate was someone by the name Benimaru."

The storm of whispers transforms into a hail of people trying to drown each other's voices.

I keep walking towards the fruits. "The second is someone by the name Oboro!"

The hail does not dissipate—but I notice movement on the outskirts of the group of villagers. I can't help but smile a little.

"The third is named Akashi!"

The movements become more obvious. Then, out of nowhere, from my left side—a fist.

That fist isn't as fast as a lapwing's pounce. I stop my pacing, and it misses my face by a finger's length.

"How dare you accuse my daughter of Falling you!" the owner of the fist screams as he throws another one. I dodge—wait, I've seen this position before.

It's drawn on the juhi for Karura combat.

Huh. What are the odds?

Putting my hours of practice into good use, I immediately place my stance, push the angry man's legs further apart with a slide, and hit his ribs as hard as I can.

The man topples backwards, screaming.

"Sh—she attacked me!" he points at me from the ground. "You all saw that! She attacked me!"

"So it's alright if you attack me, but it's not alright if I strike back?" I ask loudly. The whispers die down again. "That doesn't seem very fair."

The whooshing of wind, the flapping of large wings—some winged child is trying to run away

That shoulder-length black hair. That posture. That way of running.

That girl is Akashi.

In one motion, I sweep a fruit from the ground with my sling, swing it a few times—

Round, and around—

And I let go.

Swish

BLAM!

The fruit disappears from sight, reappearing in broken pieces on Akashi's back.

Akashi screams and stumbles forward.

I sweep another fruit and begin swinging again. Running next to her, ignoring the fact that their friend just fell, were clearly Benimaru and Oboro.

For once, Oboro's eyes aren't slanted and Benimaru's face shows an expression that isn't indifference.

I smile. Horror is such a great look on their faces.

Hurriedly, they begin flapping their wings—

As if I'd let you.

Round—

Swish—

BLAM!

My second slinging hits Benimaru right on the joint of his right wing, and he falls to the ground immediately. However, this gives Oboro the chance to take to the skies.

"Oh—oh! Ahahahaha!" he roars. "You can't catch me, wingless freak!"

"True," I say as I sweep one more fruit from the ground. "But this can."

Round, and around, and—

Swish—

The fruit disappears.

BLAM!!

It reappears on his nose, breaking into pieces and now covered in blood.

Oboro's eyes are wide open as I start swinging my sling again.

Swish—

BLAM!!

This time, I managed to hit the joints of his wings, squarely.

Even I can see that his wings bend the wrong way when he falls spectacularly from the air three times his body height.

"Oh, and I wasn't done!" I announce. "There were four classmates who were there with me on the Precipice. And the last one is none other than—"

"Me!" a voice squeaks from the crowds. Then, just like that, she makes her way out—with her long, dark, glistening hair and frizzy, brown wings.

"My very own sister, Gekka," I finish. "It's been a while."

"Sister, look, I'm very sorry!" she begs, crying her heart out. Oh, that's a face I haven't seen in a while. Gekka was always a little bit of a crybaby, but she doesn't like leaning on anyone. "We were wrong! Please forgive us!"

"I mean," I sweep another fruit and start swinging it. For once, I realize the increasingly wary look the villagers are giving me—I just showcased a weapon that could render their flight entirely irrelevant, wielded by none other than a wingless 12 year-old girl. Even the Karura look cautious. "I thought if you walk a little in my sandals, you'd understand how I feel much better. So I just need to take off your wings for a while, right?"

"Nooooooo!!"

I've never heard Gekka wail like that. So many new experiences today. This is refreshing.

I walk over to the three fallen children, raising my bone spear. That seems to stir their parents, but pushing the spear in the direction of Akashi's neck while staring at them stops them in their tracks. Good.

"Aketa-sensei taught us, didn't she?" I ask. "That the Falling is punishment for a serious crime. That the Precipice isn't a place to play around. That Falling ... is death."

Akashi's face is all red and flooded with tears. Huh. Odd. I felt extremely guilty about the chelychelynechen's eggs, so I thought I would probably feel a twinge of guilt for robbing Akashi of her wings—but I feel nothing at all. The girl in question seems to try and nod to answer my question.

"So, please," I continue as I press the spear. "Give me one good reason to not kill you right now like you killed me back then."

"B-bec-because—"

"I'm sorry, Karasumori-san," the Karura leader suddenly speaks up, "but we can't really stand for murder, either. If you kill that girl, regardless of our mission, we will have to apprehend you."

"Then I'll kill her, and then I'll kill you if I have to."

"I don't think you can take on this many Karura, child."

I press my spear harder to Akashi's neck—it starts bleeding a little, and Akashi just helplessly whimpers. "And how many Karura does it take to come back from a Fall?"

The leader does not answer.

"I'm sorry," Akashi whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm s—I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Her apologies blur into her sobs, and eventually she just ends up crying. I keep my spear trained on her neck. I can see Akashi's parents also crying from the crowds—her father, who just earlier tried to attack me, is now just all slumped on the ground crying.

"Leader-san," I call, "what's usually the formal punishment for people who Fell other people by mistake?"

"They should be Fallen themselves," he answers. I can see the light die out in Akashi's eyes. I smile at her.

"All that considered, what's the difference if I kill them here, anyway?"

"The difference would be the name of the Matriarch," he says. "People are only Fallen as punishment with her express agreement. Otherwise, we will have to Fall you again."

Kawk. "I don't mind. I can do it all over again."

It's not just Akashi. Slowly, the lights in the eyes of the crowds die out. Even on my father's face—they only now realize that they can't Fall me a second time. I've come back once, what's to stop me from coming back again? They'll have to kill me if they want me to stop, which means incurring the wrath of the Matriarch and dooming the entire village.

There's literally no way out for them.

With just that, despair finally swoops all over the villagers.

They can't fly away—they know I can take their wings.

They can't run away—they know I chase them faster.

They can't stop me—they know I'm not afraid.

They can't Fall me—they know I'll climb right back.

They can't kill me—they know I'll kill them, too.

Now that I think of it ... even without the Matriarch behind me, I could've just taken them on since long ago. What was I so afraid of?

Why didn't I just run and disappear like my own mother thought I would?

I look at Akashi at the tip of my spear.

Why didn't I just fight back?

I've thought of it for so long, imagined it for so long, that the idea almost felt like an illusion, an unattainable dream of a child who wished she had wings. But no. I was born with no wings, that was a fact.

What I did with my winglessness was entirely up to me, and it took a Fall or two for me to realize that I could've always fought back.

I can't change the past and make myself fight back then, but I can fight back now.

Very slowly, I pull my spear away from Akashi's throat. Benimaru and Oboro are already groveling on the ground. How did I even find them scary? How did I find any of them scary?

Just like that, I leave them on the ground. I approach the crowd again—this time, nobody tries anything. They don't even seem to have any strength left to make way. I walk right up to the Karura leader.

"They're yours to do as you please," I say. He scratches his head for a moment.

"Any chance of you forgiving them?" he asks. "I mean, they're still children. So are you. And you've come back."

I look at him in the eye. "Do you think any children should've gone through what I did?"

He doesn't respond, and I take that as his answer.

"What do I need to bring to see the Matriarch?"

"Nothing else. Just what you think you need to bring."

I look up. Kotengu flies in circles above me, as if awaiting my answer. I have my korowai with me. I have my sling. I have my belt. I have my rope and hook.

I have my sandals. I have my hair tie.

I have the bone spear.

I have Kotengu.

I have me.

What else do I need?

I return to the Takamatsu house, but only to retrieve my healing salve. The physician worked for this—might as well not let it go to waste. Apparently, some of the Karura retrieved the kids with the broken wings. I have no idea what punishment awaits them, since, as the leader said, 'they're just kids'. Frankly, at this point, I don't even care.

They dared to Fall me, so they shouldn't mind if I return the favor, right?

While the Karura deals with the aftermath of everything, I find Gekka still on her knees, frozen on the ground ... her wings very much intact. I pat her shoulder.

"Aren't you grateful?" I whisper in her ear. "Your lack of backbone just saved you your wings."

I turn away and don't look back. The Karura leader understands that I'm good to go, and he signals most of his team—the ones staying behind to take care of the repercussions of my Fall will catch up later on their own, it seems.

"I'll have to climb on foot because I can't fly," I tell the leader as he prepares his equipment. "Will that be okay?"

"No," he says. "I'll carry you. Time is of the essence. The fastest flight between this village to Kunoi Village will take six whole days of expedition—we can't afford to let you walk."

"Wait—wait!"

That was my father. We all turn back. While everyone else seems to be in a daze, my father shows a very clear panic on his face. I'm not sure why.

"The—the moment you leave," he says, pointing at me, "you are a stranger to this village. Do you understand what this means?"

I look at the Karura leader. I look at Kotengu. I look at Gekka, still frozen on the ground. I look at my mother, sobbing uncontrollably next to her. Then, and only then, do I finally look at my father, squarely in the face.

Maybe I can finally cry then.

A cathartic lightheadedness just bubbles forth, like water spilling out of a potfruit in wet season. I observe my father's face—his sharp ears, his graying hair, the lines on his face that show his age ... and I feel nothing. I don't feel angry. I don't feel sad. I don't feel pity.

I just feel nothing about this person.

So, watching as beads of sweat and veins of red pop all over his face, I can only give him a little smile.

I can feel a single tear flowing down my cheek.

"Father," I say, "that has always been the case ever since I was born wingless."

I don't know how my father reacted, because with that, I finally turn away, following the guidance of the Karura.

My future awaits. The Matriarch awaits.

My answers await.

I don't have the time to turn back.

***