\".Sanzu Haruchiyo."/

The dawn gilded the fields as you walked barefoot, basket on your arm, hair braided. You knew the language of plants: you knew how to heal... and kill. The people feared you; they murmured that your eyes knew too much. But you only listened to the earth.

That day, in the square, a man was watching you. Pink hair, odd eyes, a black coat with ancient symbols. He grabbed a branch and muttered:

—“That one’s no good if you mix it with valerian. It releases poison… although you already know that, right?”
You looked at him in surprise.
—“It depends on the quantity. Three leaves are enough to put a beast to sleep without killing it.”
He smiled.
—“Interesting… a peasant who understands alchemical proportions. Did you teach yourself?”
—“The earth teaches, if you know how to listen.”

—“I’m looking for an assistant. Someone who isn’t afraid of magic… or what it demands.”

You agreed, not understanding why. That night, you climbed with him to his tower, among runes that glowed like fireflies. Inside, the air smelled of incense and old books. Blue fire, singing crystals… living magic.
—“Here, not everything that heals is pure, nor is everything that destroys evil. I want you to learn that.”

Days passed. He taught you how to mix blood with dew, how to read the smoke, and his gaze began to grow warmer. One night, between candles, he whispered:
—“Since you arrived, magic obeys me. You’re different, you know that, right?”

He took your hand and placed it on his chest.
—“Your power was not born from study… but from the soul. Let me teach you to master it before it consumes you.”