Clan Grounds It's dawn at the door.
Water was still hanging from the tiles on the cornice, and it fell drop by drop into the recesses of the stone steps, making very little sound.
There is dew on the Grass in the cracks in the rocks, and it falls off when the wind passes.
The first wisp of smoke came out of the stove at the other end of the street, letting the wind blow down and follow the roof ridges.
He came out with his luggage on his back, and Mikoto was already at the door.
On the leeward side of the gatehouse, she was leaning against the wall, her hands folded in her sleeves.
When she saw him coming out, she stood up straight.
Her eyes fell on the luggage first, and then on his face.
The luggage is on my shoulders, not too heavy, and the travel bag is slung at my side.
The rope at the mouth of the bag was tightened, and the wrapped thing sank to the bottom of the bag, untouched after it was put in.
There is another old wooden sign in the close-fitting pouch, which has been replaced with a new one through a string.
The face of the card has been rounded by the fingertips, and the original characters have long been flattened.
Stick it in your waist, click on that box, and you will come to an end today.
The alley entrance was empty, the stone pavement was soaked with dew, and the base of the wall was still dark.
The strap of the luggage is tightened with another buckle.
There is a mark on the shoulder, which is pressed firmly through the clothes.
The breath condensed into white air in the cold air, and dispersed as soon as it came out, and the back of my hands felt cold.
Mikoto raised his chin toward the outside of the village and spoke first.
"Follow the procedure and unpack your luggage."
"It's all here."
The luggage was unloaded, placed on the stone platform at the door, and the slip knot was untied.
The stone platform is cold, and the puddles on the table have not yet been collected.
The dry food bag was handed over first, and the corners of the bag were rough.
She weighed it, tightened the mouth strap again, and put it back on the countertop.
The clothes she changed were rolled up into a roll. She rolled them tightly. She pinched the corners and let them go.
Fire sickle, tinder, a small bag of salt, all passed through.
The corner of the salt bag was frayed, so she turned it over and shook it, but the seal was still tight.
The water bag was hung on the side of the bag. When I lifted it up and shook it, half of the bag filled with water.
The strips of cloth were rolled tightly, and the corners of the sewing kit were wrapped and polished smooth.
The order in which she turned over things was the same as when she checked a card, first large items then small items, first light and then heavy, so that she could see clearly which items she turned over, and there would be no mess under her hands.
One piece after another, her hands never stopped.
When it was the turn of the item at the bottom of the bag, she stopped.
The cloth was still wrapped, and the knot was pressed underneath. It was the same as when it was brought in. It had not been untied.
I pressed my fingertips on the cloth and found a small hard patch under the cloth.
She didn't turn down.
She raised her eyes to look at him, then looked back.
Didn't ask.
Kiyoshi made no sound either.
The water on the cornice is still dripping.
The two people stood with their bags separated from each other.
She moved first and returned everything on the stage to her luggage.
The order of returning is the same as when it was opened, the same pressing is done, and the last piece of cloth still sinks to the bottom with the cloth side down.
The bag was handed back, and the end of the rope was placed on the edge of the stone platform.
"It's all ready."
"Thank you."
The knot was tied back to its original position and the bag was put on the shoulder again.
She stepped aside and walked out of the alley alongside him.
The street had just woken up, and the first group of bearers went to the market entrance, but their poles were bent under the weight.
No one looked in their direction.
Walking through the powder shop, a piece of the door panel was removed, and the heat spread out against the ground.
After walking through the well, the rope of the windlass was still wet and the bucket was placed on the edge of the well.
The door panel of the cake shop was halfway down, and the aroma of oil mixed with charcoal gas floated to the middle of the street.
Mikoto walked on the outside, keeping pace with him.
The only sound along the way was the sound of footsteps and the lingering sound of water dripping from the eaves, which stopped at the street entrance.
The village gate is at the end of the street, and the door is open. The wind in the cave is cooler than outside.
Walking closer, he gathered up his collar first.
The porter put up half the window and wiped the window sill clean.
The guard on duty turned sideways from the window, turned out the registration book for leaving the village, and flattened it on the window sill.
The pages of the album were opened, and the corners of the paper were softened by the moisture.
The footers of the pages turned forward are curled, and the columns with dropped characters are one row after another.
That column is empty, and the column header is down.
"When you leave the village to register, leave a word."
The pen rests next to the ink plate. The tip of the pen is worn white and the tip of the pen is still straight.
The ink is newly researched, and the surface of the disc is still moist.
Hold the pen and dip it in ink, with your wrist hanging and the tip of the pen a line away from the paper.
As the ink fell, he wrote his name into the column one by one. He started and closed the pen with his own strength. There was no trace back from the beginning to the end. After writing, he put the pen back to the edge of the ink plate and pressed his fingertips along the edge of the paper. The ink was absorbed into the paper. From one end of the column to the other, there were all his words.
The duty officer turned the book back, read it word for word, checked the column headings again, and flattened the corners of the paper with his fingers.
I took the ink-absorbing paper and pressed it on the place where I dropped the words, and pressed it firmly.
"Okay."
The booklet was put into the window, leaving a crack in the window panel.
Mikoto stood at the doorway and did not go any further.
"After passing the gate, follow the sign in."
She paused and added another sentence.
"There is a card on the road, please hand over the card first."
He responded.
The old characters on the forehead have been eaten away by the rain and only the lines are left, and dust accumulates in the lines.
The door opening is not wide, and a person can pass through it in the middle, his shoulders brushing against the wall of the cave.
The row of bricks in the middle of the cave wall makes the shoulders and backs of those who have been in and out all year round slippery. Only the middle section is slippery. The bricks next to it are still thick and dark in color.
The draft blew against the floor, causing my trousers to tighten.
The luggage on my back was pressed down by the wind, and its weight pressed against my back.
The stride length should be shortened, then relaxed, and the steps should be even.
I didn't stop him when I was on duty, and my eyes fell back on the booklet on the window sill.
After exiting the gate, the road opened out of the village. There was water in the ruts and dry along the ruts.
He walked out of the village gate without stopping.
The village wall behind him became lower, and the grass on the wall was close to the sky.
The stuck in my waist was hitting my hip bones, and my hands couldn't reach up enough.
From this step on, the square on the card can be solved.
The grass beside the road is covered with dew, and the tips of the leaves are hanging down, brushing against the trouser legs.
The soil under the slope was soaked with dew and felt soft when stepped on.
After walking for a while, Po blocked the crow of chickens in the village.
Outside the village, there is a fork at the foot of the slope, and the road divides into two branches.
One part fell into Pingchuan, and the other part went uphill. At the other end of the slope was Main Road, and there was no one on Main Road.
An old wooden pole was stuck in the fork, and the head of the pole was split by the wind.
When he reached the fork, he looked back once, without stopping. The morning light had just climbed up the village wall, and the village gate had shrunk into a small door on the other side. The doorway was dark, and he couldn't see inside. After seeing this, he turned his neck back and relaxed his joints for a moment before taking a step. The path on his left led to Sunagakure. The soil on the surface of the path was darkened by the dew. He stepped on it and walked evenly.
The travel bag is moved to the back, with the bottom of the bag close to the waist.
The letter was still close to my chest, with the seal facing inside, unopened.
There are old ruts on Main Road, and there is water in the rut ditch.
The dew soaked the trouser legs a little deep, and the fabric was cold.
The fog on the other side of Pingchuan has not receded, and Main Road is broken in the fog.
The wind on the slope became stronger, and the straps of the luggage became straightened.
There is a tea shed propped up next to the fork. The paint on the pillars is peeling off, and the new grass on the top is still yellow.
A man was sitting under the shed, resting, with a load at his feet.
The thick bowl in the shed had its mouth open, and the color of the tea soup was so dark that it turned black.
A donkey was tied to a pillar, wagging its tail to chase away flies.
Without entering the shed, he walked along the road outside the shed.
The kettle on the fire pit was on, and the lid clicked.
The voices in the shed were kept low, and they echoed each other's words.
"Some villages started to lose Jinchūriki."
The speaker's voice was not high, and one could not tell his age.
Someone next to me answered half of the sentence and let the pot lid sound to cover it up.
Whatever I picked up, the wind didn't send it all.
The pace slowed down.
Put your hand on the travel bag, and through the cloth, the cloth wrapped at the bottom of the bag is pressed under the heel of your palm.
The knot of cloth is still pressed underneath, just as it was when he left the village.
He took his hand back, wrapped his fingers around the bag rope half a circle, and then let go.
The kettle was lifted down from the shed, and the talking stopped.
The tea bowl knocked against the table and fell onto the table.
The people at the table were surrounding the table, with their backs to the crossing.
The voice rose again and became even lower, and this time I couldn't even hear half of the sentence.
Tighten the bag string and take the left-hand path.
The sound of voices behind me was carried away by the wind, and the road surface spread out under my feet.
Never looked back.