In the northern reaches of the Land of Water stood an utterly ordinary village, whose people had made their living by fishing for generations.
Lush grass covered the riverbank beneath the evening sky. A handsome boy with short red hair sat fishing, dressed in a straw raincoat and a bamboo hat, a blade of grass between his lips.
Young as he was, he was an expert fisherman. Unless it was windy or raining, he came to the river at dawn and fished until evening, keeping to that routine for years without fail.
Pop!
Ripples spread across the water-a fish had clearly taken the bait. The boy pulled up his rod. Splash! The fish broke the surface, traced a beautiful arc through the air, and landed in his hand, still thrashing.
"Heh... this'll make a filling dinner tonight."
With an innocent smile, the boy tossed the large carp into the basket behind him.
He had set himself a rule.
The first fish he caught each morning would be his breakfast, and the last fish he caught before finishing in the evening would be his dinner. That big fish was tonight's dinner, and it was certainly large enough to fill his stomach.
As for all the other fish, he handed every one of them over to the village.
No one forced him to do it. He did it willingly, because he deeply loved the village where he had been born and raised, and wanted to do his small part for it.
Lately, his fish basket had been full every day.
The boy happily packed up his fishing gear and prepared to head home. But when he turned around, he found two people standing on the embankment behind him. He had no idea when they had arrived.
Both wore black robes, and neither