only a moment
The first time he saw her, she was little more than girl and a scrawny one at that. She had little twig arms and little twig legs, her middle more concave than simply flat. It seemed that anything she ate went straight to her chest. Or at least that was what she told him over a dinner of wild rice and silver river fish, laughing merrily about it. It didn't seem to bother her too much, that people stared. It was simply a fact of life, like the rising of the sun or the stars in the sky.
She refused to be shamed by her large chest, or her light hair, and though she did not say as much, it was in the way she held her head high while other girls hung them low demurely. How she let a lone traveler spend the night in her little cottage on the outskirts of the village. It was absolutely scandalous, from a conservative point of view; here she was, this comely girl bordering on womanhood in her lonely little cottage letting this strange older man spend the night...
"Well, it's not like they'll do anything about it," she said, laughing.
He was half-curious, half-indifferent. By morning he would be on his way again; it was not his problem and he wasn't used to feeling anything but apathetic. And yet... "Why not?"
"They need me." Even as her eyes twinkled, there was something... harder behind them. Resilient. Something that would bend rather than break.
He looked around the cottage again, for something that he had missed earlier that evening, for something that would explain her quiet confidence. It was small and dark; the flames from the hearth made some light, though much remained in shadows. She was a single woman; she probably couldn't afford to waste much wood. There was a futon in the corner, partitioned by a crudely made screen (he wondered, briefly, if that was where he would sleep or if the futon across the room would be his). Sprigs of drying herbs hung from the rafters, or lay half-crushed in a mortar and pestle, or wrapped in bundles of cloth that were half-packed in woven baskets.
A thought blossomed. This was a small village, agricultural in nature and close to the mountains and a river. There was nothing particularly holy about it, nothing that would inspire a shrine, or a miko to take up residence if they even had any money to support the idea. But the area, while not impoverished, would grow only enough crops to pay taxes and keep them alive until the next harvest. Likewise, a Buddhist temple-even a small one-would be similarly dissuaded from taking root. And with them, any healing powers they might possess.
A medicine woman, even a young one, could stake the odds towards survival.
She smiled brightly when she saw him make the connection, and they spent the next few-was it really hours?-chatting idly about things that didn't matter. She spun stories like they were golden threads from the sun, wove them together in cleverodd ways that made little sense, but fit together regardless. He told her true tales of the places he'd been, the battles he'd waged, and, because he thought it would amuse her, he told her aimless pieces of gossip that he had accidentally heard and remembered.
.
In the morning she packed him provisions, though he tried to tell her it was unnecessary. She had done enough for him by sharing a roof and a meal, or so he tried to impress upon her, but she pressed the package into his hands until he finally relented.
He hesitated at the door, looking like maybe he wished he could bring her with him. They were both lonely, and it looked like she had an adventurous spirit. It could work.
But before he could open his mouth to speak, she cut him off. "Take care on your journey, Ronin. I am not a part of your story, and you are not a part of mine."
He nodded in assent. If this was where their paths diverged, then so be it. "Maybe next time," he murmured, and left.
The moment had passed.
ahn~ I've wanted to do something like this for a while. :D
The feudal-esque setting is totally inspired by Inuyasha. I'm a long-time (casual) fan, and Starrk is a total ronin, no joke. xP
Anyway, y'all know the drill. No promises on timely updates. Or completion. Ever. (( looks away ))
