The Day We Met
Nestled in the mountains north of Kyoto, the village of Fuuka was enjoying a peaceful day. The village was small, only around eight hundred villagers including those who lived in the outlying farms. The main export of the town was rice, making it one of the wealthier villages so close to the city. It was also a hub for travelers and traders passing from Ryukyu to the countryside and even as far as Edo.
Only a few shops littered the road that bisected the town, one of them was an antique store owned and operated by Fujino Shizuru, a collector and purveyor of all kinds of objects from weaponry to furniture to old books. The building was an old style, single story machiya, though the years had not been kind to it. The storefront looked weather beaten, the symbols that once said 'Fujino' were now barely visible. Several items stood in the windows including an old naginata that had found it's way into her collection.
The store was somewhat empty at the moment, Shizuru was busy selling an antique futon to a lovely couple when she heard a commotion outside. Several men ran past the door, yelling and screams could be heard from outside. Soon after the sounds of steel and firearms meant a battle was being fought. The couple ran further into the store, but Shizuru ran to the door, grabbing the old naginata on the way.
Outside she found two samurai, one lay on the ground, his armor torn and blood pooling around his body. The other wore no armor, but a dark blue kimono stained red with blood, long dark hair and a shapely body told that it was a woman. Her sword lay on the ground beside him, red with blood, just down the street five soldiers lay dead from wounds inflicted by this very weapon.
The woman was shouting at her friend, Sakomizu by the sound of it, to get up and run. He was coughing up blood, by the looks of it he wouldn't make it through the night. He grabbed her hand and told her he was sorry, so sorry that he couldn't protect her. With tears in her eyes she told him that he had protected her, and that she would in turn save him.
By that time several of the locals had come out of their homes. She turned to them, then to Shizuru, her green eyes wet with tears. She shouted for someone to help him, for a doctor or anybody. Miss Sagisawa, the local doctor, ran from her clinic to help along with a few of the locals. She knelt beside the dying Sakomizu, and immediately asked for a few of the local men to help her carry him into her office.
Shizuru returned the naginata to it's place then approached the scene. As she neared her, Shizuru noticed a few things that she had missed at a distance. The sword that she had assumed the woman had been given, had a sheath and was belted at her side along with a wakizashi. The fact that she carried a daisho clearly marked her as Samurai. What is a Samurai doing here?
She also noticed that not all of the blood on her kimono belonged to another. Blood seeped from two wounds, one where she had been shot in the right shoulder, the other a bayonet stab to the right side. Shizuru approached the woman, who stood as they carried Sakomizu off to the infirmary. The woman turned to look at her and she bowed low before her. "You seem injured as well, Miss. Shouldn't you go with them?" The woman turned her head and started walking towards the dead soldiers in the road and spoke with a husky voice that flowed like silk, a voice without mirth or remorse, "These bodies need to be moved, or we will draw the attention of the daimyo's men."
Shizuru followed close behind, "You're injuries require care, Miss." The woman didn't turn to face her, "I must keep moving, with or without Sakomizu." Shizuru waved over a couple of the local men and, at her request, they started moving the bodies off of the street. The Samurai woman turned to look at her. Shizuru grabbed her hand and nearly pulled her towards the infirmary, "The sooner your injuries are taken care of, the sooner you can leave."
Shizuru drug the Samurai woman through the doors where they could hear Dr. Sagisawa hard at work on Sakomizu. She pulled her into a room and motioned for her to sit on the chair, which she did. Shizuru pulled out some herbs and a mortar and pestle, then started mashing them into a paste. Once she finished, she sat across from her and asked her to remove her kimono. She hesitated, but started to remove the belt, carefully laying her daisho against the wall beside her. After she had removed the kimono from her upper body, Shizuru began applying the salve to her shoulder wound, which appeared to be a minor injury.
Shizuru noticed the way the woman would flinch every time she would touch her, as if she was unused to physical contact. Yet she slew five men in the street and countless before coming here, I'm sure. A warrior priestess. She finished applying the healing paste to her shoulder, then grabbed the bandages beside her. Slowly she wrapped up the woman's shoulder, never once did she flinch from pain.
After Shizuru was done with the shoulder, she asked her to see the other wound. The woman scowled as she peeled her kimono away from the wound in her abdomen. Upon inspection, Shizuru noticed that the blade had missed anything vital, but she would have to stitch it shut. She turned to retrieve a needle and thread, "I'm going to have to stitch this wound," she said turning back to her patient, "it may hurt a bit." The woman shook her head, "Just do it."
To her credit, the woman didn't flinch when the needle pierced her skin, not the first time nor any time after that. When she had finished, Shizuru rubbed some healing paste on the wound then bound it as she had the shoulder. When she leaned forward to wrap the cloth around her torso, she noticed the faint smell of lavender.
After the wound was bound, the woman re-dressed, grabbed her daisho off the wall and placed it comfortably in the belt at her side. Without so much as a word, she left the room. Shizuru followed after her as she found the room where Sakomizu lay. The doctor was washing her hands when the woman walked up to the bed.
"Your friend will live, and so will you, I see." She studied the wrapping on the woman's shoulder. "Well done, I see Miss Fujino took good care of you." The woman looked at Shizuru questioningly, "Fujino?" Shizuru smiled as she bowed her head slightly, "Yes, Fujino Shizuru. It's a pleasure to meet you." Their eyes met for mere moments, the woman looked away. "I am grateful to you doctor, and to you Miss Fujino. You have saved our lives. Yet our being here puts your village at great risk. If he cannot move soon, then I must continue on without him."
Shizuru stepped forward, "It would be wise to rest, then, at least until his fate is known. I can offer you my place to stay, if you wish." The Samurai looked down at Sakomizu who was unconscious and sweating profusely. She stood and grunted from her own injuries. "I won't get far like this, I suppose I must stay here, " she said through gritted teeth.
The Samurai entered Shizuru's shop and looked around at all the odd bits of antique furniture and decoration. She was immediately taken by the naginata Shizuru kept by the door, when Shizuru followed she noticed the woman's interest. "This is a beautiful weapon." The woman remarked before she tested the edge, then withdrew her hand with an unimpressed look, "It is in disrepair."
Shizuru kept walking through the store. "It is an heirloom, given to me by my father, but I don't know how to care for it." The Samurai woman studied the weapon a bit more, when Shizuru motioned for her to follow she grabbed it and took it with her.
The living rooms in the rear of the store were tastefully decorated, Shizuru started moving the shoji around to create another partition for the woman to sleep in. From a closet she withdrew a spare futon, "You can sleep here." The other woman merely nodded as she removed her daisho and set it on the floor, sitting cross-legged beside it. She withdrew a whetstone from a sleeve and set to sharpening the naginata's edge.
Shizuru started a fire in the cooking pit, "What are you doing?" The woman did not look up, "A Samurai's weapon is her soul. You should take better care of yours." Shizuru's voice rose, "A fugitive telling me to care for my soul. In my own house no less. A fugitive who won't even tell me her name." She still didn't look up, "...Natsuki. Kuga Natsuki."
Shizuru put a pot of water over the fire to boil, "I didn't know women could become Samurai. In all the texts I've ever read, only men were allowed the privilege." She spoke in a softer voice to Natsuki who still sharpened the weapon in her lap. Natsuki's voice grew sultry, "We can't. With my brother and father dead I am the last of my line. It is my father's sword I carry. His honor. It is why I arrived in your town this morning, and why those men attacked. Sakomizu was my guardian, but now it seems even he has left me." Natsuki set the naginata against the wall, replaced the whetstone in her sleeve, and left to her space, lying down on the futon with her back to the door. Shizuru called after her, "Will you eat?" She received a sultry reply, "I have no appetite." The rest of the night passed in silence.