After the fire three years ago that claimed their previous village, the survivors journeyed downriver to settle in a new location and named this new village Fuxing. Jin liked to venture outside of the village to do his laundry, because he liked the seclusion and the peaceful scene which was different from his home life. Jin bent by the riverside, humming to himself whilst he washed clothes in the shallow water. He was alone; Jin chose to wash his clothes here rather than where others did because he liked to take off his tunic to avoid getting it soaked, but he didn't want people to see the lattice of scars across his back and down his left arm. When he was finished and the wrung-out clothes set in a reed basket, he toweled himself dry with a rag and pulled on his tunic.
Jin walked upstream, long, lush grass coiling around his legs, and watched barn swallows twittering and flitting from branch to branch, their song mingling with the gurgle of the river tumbling over rocks. Through the trees, he could see the outline of small huts that make up the outskirts of the newly formed village; he turned uphill and walked into the village's main street. The street was lined with stalls and vendors, and at their backs were the dense rows of huts the refugees now called home, all hastily built over the last three years.
Some of the stalls were villagers selling artworks and decoratives to merchants and travelers, and others were merchants selling home goods to the growing town. In the middle of the village, in a small square, merchants were gathered selling cloth, copper pots, tools, rope, and more, surrounded by villagers arguing and negotiating prices. Children were being shooed away from huts and stalls; behind all the bustle, men worked diligently to complete new houses.
Jin moved through the busy market. There were more people here than expected; they were preparing for tradesmen who would be soon arriving to help thatch and pin new roofs and work to build a grain house—a hurrying man jostled into Jin and knocked him to his knees, the basket spilling clothes on the ground. The man stopped, stooped, and started putting the clothes back in the basket. "Sorry young man, I was in such a rush that I didn't see you there. Are you alright?"
Jin smiled as he picked himself up, "I'm fine. Are you with one of the merchants?"
"Yes, a porter, but now he has me running errands here and there." The man bobbed his head and hurried off again, and Jin kept slowly walking his way through the market, raising his hand to people he knew, then stopping at a stall selling metal goods.
"Are those fishhooks in? I'm tired of using wooden pegs."
"Patience Jin, they'll be in soon enough."
With the sun setting and the ruckus of the town fading, Jin headed west to his home. It sat away from the town on the hillside. As it clove into view amidst the trees, Jin thought it best it couldn't be seen; it looked run down and poorly repaired. Jin stopped; he could hear his father shouting, his voice growing shrill, Jin's limbs felt cold, and his stomach tightened. He dropped the basket, hurried, and then ran along the path—his heart hammering, he could hear his mother screaming and begging. Jin burst into the hut, bashing the door aside; his father had his mother by the throat and was just swinging a balled fist into her stomach; she sagged, shuddering to the floor, gasping for breath, her bloodied face a mask of terror. Seeing Jin, she fumbled to mop the blood off her face with her apron, even while she gasped for air.
Jin ran around his father and stood between them. "Father, stop, she's bleeding, you—" Jin's words were cut short as a fist slammed into his chest; he staggered and fell.
Sagaki reached toward her husband, "Please, Goichi, I'm sorry, don't beat the boy, please."
"Look at you," Goichi stood, face red, his knuckles bloody, glaring down at Jin, "So pathetic. Why are you so weak, huh? Stand up, weakling!"
Jin's face was growing hot, and his jaw clenching, he stood up. "What are you doing? Leave her alone; hasn't she suffered enough?"
"If you weren't both so lazy, we'd have food with taste and warm beds! Have you seen what she cooked for dinner?" He pointed violently at the stove.
"We're going through rough times; that's no reason to beat mother," Jin shouted.
Goichi's face twisted with fury, "Don't you raise your voice to me, boy" he punched him in the ribs, then in the stomach, and finally the jaw, which sent him staggering back against the table. Then Goichi turned and trudged out, slamming the door behind him.
Jin crouched by his mother's side. She mopped her face and looked at him pleadingly, "Don't do that, don't get in the way of your father's anger."
Jin helped her up, "I'm sorry, mother, he ju—" His mother's eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled. Jin lunged and managed to catch her head before it hit the floor. He held her, his breath catching in his dry throat, "Mother? Come on, wake up; we've got to get you to a healer."
Sagaki opened her eyes groggily and let her son help her up and out the door; as they shuffled down the path, she croaked, "We shouldn't, Jin, head home, he—" Then her head rocked forward, and she slumped into unconsciousness again. Jin tried shaking and talking to her, but she didn't wake up this time. His gut turned cold, and he could hear his heart pounding like a drum. He arranged his mother curled and then, struggling, lifted her on one shoulder—she was as big as him, and his bruised body and thin legs trembled; he set his jaw and started walking at a crawl towards the healer's hut through the darkened wood.
The healer was startled when Jin pushed open the door, dropping a bushel of herbs he was sorting. "Jin, you gave me a fright. Oh no, what happened? Here"—he hurried into another room—"set her on this bed."
The healer drew the curtain and then brought a bright lamp close to the bed and examined Sagaki's injuries, paying close attention to her swollen eye and the bruising on her chest. He looked up at Jin, his old face serious, "Go to the village and fetch me some Feng, here"—he moved back into the front room and took a string of coins out of a pot on the mantlepiece—"use this to pay, but hurry."
Jin took the coins, nodded, burst out the door, and ran into the tangle of streets, ignoring his burning muscles. People were still walking the streets with lamps. The sun had just set, and Jin could hear families laughing and the clatter of cutlery as he passed homes. He hobbled towards the central market.