The evening air was calm and clear and still, early enough in the season to be free of the heat and weight of summer. Lingering above the horizon, the setting sun painted the sky a wash of orange and pink and purple.

It was time.

The shrine behind him was small and mostly-forgotten but far from malevolent or angry. He'd chosen it for these reasons; he'd made appropriate offerings including that which would come.

The Medicine Seller smiled and closed his eyes, reaching through the empty air and himself. He pulled at his very being, at that which was usually hidden when his true blade was sealed. But this was necessary, at times, and best saved for evenings like these when the world was quiet.

Everything around him crackled yet the power flowing from him left no mark on his surroundings. It would not, not perceptibly.

He was then two, meeting his Otherself's eyes in a long moment of shared everything. It was an odd ritual, but it kept him and kept them whole.

He was on himself a moment later, eagerly and until long past sunset, alive in the tranquil world.

Then renewed, serene, he awoke to noisy dawn.