Natsuo almost hadn't gone after the thief. What concern was it of hers if the nobles complained about their missing trinkets? Why should she take up her sword in defense of the very people who had insisted that a lady of her stature should never sully her hands with one? They could rot, for all she cared. If it hadn't been for Kei, she would have left them to do just that.
If Kei had been as dramatic about the loss of her family heirloom as everyone else had been about their stolen possessions, Natsuo might still have been able to look the other way. But instead she'd greeted the revelation with a quiet, resigned "oh" and Natsuo had been charging down the hallway toward her own quarters before she knew it, hands wanting to rip off her overly-elaborate-and-not-at-all-practical-for-fighting court clothes before she even reached the privacy of her rooms. Natsuo generally didn't have friends, not when even those who could overlook her ill manners in deference to her power and social standing eventually found that there was little favor to be won. Kei was possibly the only one who qualified for that category and even then, for Natsuo displays of affection were something left behind with her childhood. But she let her hand rest on the hilt of her sword, now a comforting weight in its scabbard. It had been a gift from Kei a year ago; a weapon forged just for her when she could never have sought to have one made herself, being too recognizable and having too many responsibilities. It was only fair that she use that sword to take back what belonged to Kei.
After all, as far as Natsuo was concerned, stealing from Kei could be considered a personal insult. She never let a challenge stand unanswered - it was only proper.
Now, dripping with sweat and feeling genuinely winded from a sword fight for the first time in her life, she truly understood what a mistake it would have been not to come. Tracking the thief down had been pathetically easy considering how much difficulty her the most esteemed guards of the royal family had had with the task, but the other woman, half her size but no less capable with a blade, had more than made up for her disappointment once the confrontation had reached close quarters. "You're the best," Natsuo said, her voice coming out in a breathless laugh. The sharp edges of her smile had begun to hurt her face, but she didn't care. It had been too long since she'd been able to give her all in a fight. This wasn't even a duel anymore, this was a brawl.
The girl looked surprised for a moment, unusually large eyebrows merging into her bangs. And then, to Natsuo's astonishment, she grinned back, bright and unreserved.
Natsuo never would have believed in something so whimsical as love at first sight. The sudden, intense urge to wipe the smile off of her opponent's face was probably close enough.
"Honestly, Na-chan," Kei complained, fretting over Natsuo's scrapes like they were injuries serious enough to be worth the trouble. Natsuo just let her, mind still dwelling on the battle. Little Ms. Caterpillar Brows had actually forced her to give ground in order to save skin. The thief had been forced to abandon her stash, but she'd still gotten away and proved irritatingly hard to find again despite Natsuo's efforts. Evidently, she learned from her mistakes. Natsuo had done what she'd accomplished, she should have been happy with that. But Kei's gratitude had done nothing to soothe the incompleteness of the victory and words of acceptance tasted bitter in her mouth. She didn't want it to end like this.
"Say, Na-chan," Kei said, voice low and Natsuo suddenly realized that her hands had stilled, the salve already drying on her skin, "Have you reconsidered taking magic lessons with me?" Kei's mouth opened like she wasn't finished speaking before snapping closed, her eyes dropping as if to search for all the words that she hadn't said. Natsuo heard them anyway.
Someone like Kei would never see anything desirable in battle-won injuries. It was almost ironic that someone usually so open was so avoidant in the one area that Natsuo preferred to get close to other people. Kei would never understand that the risk was half the pleasure.
Still, Natsuo's mind turned the idea over, like a cat playing with prey. What sort of face would Kei make if Natsuo took her up on the offer and proved as proficient in magic as she had in everything else she'd ever tried? Would it be the same admiring, starry-eyed expression she sometimes wore when she watched Natsuo practice her swordsmanship? Or would it be the angry, crushed expression Natsuo had seen so many display once they'd realized they'd been soundly beaten at something they loved by someone who didn't care at all?
Natsuo let her hand fall atop Kei's head with the same heavy, surety with which it sometimes touched the pommel of her sword, an uncommonly comforting gesture. "You worry too much."
Over time Natsuo's wounds healed, too minor to leave any trace, the evidence of the battle washing away like a dream. But still her mind would not turn from it.
She found herself seeking out gossip with unusual interest. Amongst it was the usual chatter about herself. A titter here, a cluck of the tongue there. There was something strange about a girl who fought. It certainly wasn't proper. It was almost indecent. Men fought, there wasn't much one could do about that. But what kind of woman cared for such activities? Her poor brother, how much it must shame the family. Giggles behind soft hands that had never known work and sympathy from tongues too sharp to make it believable.
But every once in a while there was a hint, a whisper. Rumors of the thief circulated taking on the tones of a fable, like the recent rash of burglaries had happened somewhere else. The Queen of Thieves, the people whispered. She took from the rich and gave to the needy. No one could stop her.
Every bit of news held her attention rapt even as it curled her lip with disgust. She wondered how much truth there actually was to this noble fiction.
It would be of no consequence, she decided. If a villain was the only role for her in this story, then she'd just have to play her part well. The nightly routine of polishing her sword took on new significance, her face grinning back at her reflected in the blade. Eyebrow-face might be the Queen of Thieves, but their kingdom already had a princess and Natsuo wasn't about to back down. One day their paths would be sure to cross again and then...ah, she couldn't wait.
She'd forge her own ending out of fire and steel.