I was still dreaming about warm bread when the bucket hit me.

  Cold water slapped me awake so hard I nearly fell out of bed. Kaito stood over me grinning like a fox in the henhouse, that damn wooden bucket dangling from his fingers. "Up and at 'em, Your Majesty," he said. "Cows won't milk themselves."

  "You fucker!" I gasped, shaking water out of my hair. "Sun's not even up!"

  From the doorway, Ren nearly dropped his armload of firewood laughing. "Should've latched your window, little lord."

  "Or slept in the barn like a real man," Kaito added, tossing the bucket aside with a clatter.

  "I'm ten," I muttered, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The wooden floor bit cold against my bare feet. "Not a man yet."

  "Tell that to Ma. Chicken coops won't clean themselves either."

  I groaned but grabbed my work shirt. The house smelled like it always did - hay and damp wool and last night's stew. Floorboards creaked underfoot in all the familiar places. Everything exactly as it should be.

  Perfect.

  ———

  Our farm sat right where the forest got shy about being flat land. Grass grew tall enough to hide in, sky stretched wide enough to make you dizzy if you stared too long. Stone walls, stubborn goats, and more patched roofs than whole ones. Not much to look at, maybe, but it was home.

  By the time I finished with the chickens (and got pecked twice for my trouble), the kitchen smelled like Ma's oatbread and the good root stew she only made when the weather turned.

  Kaito was "helping" by sneaking salted nuts when Ma wasn't looking. Ren actually helped, steady as always while Ma stirred the pot one-handed, the other resting on his shoulder like she needed to remind herself he was real.

  "You're late," Ma said without turning around.

  "Blame Kaito."

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Kaito sprayed crumbs. "Improved his reflexes. You're welcome."

  Ma gave us The Look - the one that could silence a tavern brawl. We shut up quick. "Eat," she said, pointing to the table with her wooden spoon. "Then south field before the rain comes."

  ———

  Noon sun burned my neck as I hauled another bundle to the cart. Hands raw, shirt sticking to my back, arms aching like I'd been wrestling trees. Didn't complain though.

  Ren tossed me the canteen. "You're pushing too hard again."

  "Someone's gotta keep up with you two," I said, drinking deep.

  "Or," Ren wiped his forehead, "you could take a damn break like a normal kid."

  "What's the fun in that?"

  He punched my shoulder - not hard, but not soft either - and shoved a dried plum in my mouth. "Idiot."

  I grinned around the sweetness.

  That's how it was with us. No big speeches about family or duty. Just showing up. Like feeding that skinny dog that haunted our fields - never named it, never petted it, just left food on the same flat rock every noon. Or when Ren's coat tore last winter and he grumbled about freezing his ass off, so I stayed up half the night stitching it back together with my terrible sewing. Never said a word, just left it at the foot of his bed. Or when I broke the gate for the chickens, and if Kaito didn’t come and help round em up, who knows how mad Ma would have been.

  Same when old Haruto struggled with his water buckets last summer. Didn't think, just took the yoke from his shaking hands and hauled until my shoulders burned and Ma's stew went cold.

  "Your ma'll skin you," Haruto had said, watching me rub my raw hands.

  I'd just grinned. "Then I'll tell her it was your idea."

  Helping wasn't some grand thing. You saw need, you filled it. Simple as that.

  ———

  The storm hit at dusk, howling through the cracks in the roof like a living thing. We huddled by the fire, wrapped in every blanket we owned while the wind tried to pry the shutters off.

  "You think spirits are real?" I asked, watching the flames dance.

  Kaito snorted. "Old Haruto swears he saw one in the river. Said it looked like Ma."

  Ma swatted him with a dishcloth. "And he's still breathing because I fished his fool self out."

  Ren poked the fire. "If spirits exist, they've got good taste."

  I stared into the embers. "Doubt they bother with folks like us though."

  "Why's that?" Ma asked, her mending forgotten in her lap.

  "Dunno." I shrugged. "We're just... normal."

  Ren and Kaito burst out laughing. "Hiro," Ren wheezed, "you're the least normal person I know."

  "You care too damn much," Kaito added. "It's weird."

  Even Ma smiled into her sewing.

  I laughed with them, but part of me wondered. Maybe this was one of those stories. Maybe tomorrow I'd wake up with a magic sword or glowing eyes or some nonsense.

  Silly thought. The kind you only have at night when the wind's howling and the fire's low.

  Still... I kept glancing at the window. Just in case.

  Didn't know it then, but something was looking back.

  Had been since the day I was born.

  Marked me for light.

  For struggle.

  For sacrifice.

  My story was just getting started.