Actual bandits should not have been a surprise.
Unstable as the situation was there was no way unsavoury, selfish, ruthless elements wouldn't take advantage of it where others could not reach.
But the focus on the goal lead to an oversight.
The forest changed to fields.
The fields were full of soldiers, sticking to their predetermined patrols. Faster on horses, circling paths, following the roads. Slower and scouting on foot, entering the fields, stomping the crops, searching without concern for the people they pushed out of the way.
Easily avoided by careful riding.
A few field workers greeted them, recognizing Yumi's figure and weapons. They helped them, concealing them is the storehouses, in sheds, calling out when the danger had passed. Golden coins were left behind even though she did not look at the people taking them, aloof not to break. Sneakily she carved something out of sight, on the edge of a wall. Something to tell her men they needed their help in that corner of land.
As the mountain approached their chosen path grew emptier, desolate, the plants low to the ground, wind-swept. The horses cut through fast, huffing. They were working the animals hard but there was a pressing need to reach the higher area, the cliff pass that lead to the border before anything else changed. They would be able to rest them as soon as that was cleared.
Yumi pulled the reins abruptly, her horse stopping, shaking its head. She held up her hand, asking him to stop as well, silent, looking around beneath the hood, straight on the saddle, tense.
Ryoma was able to coach his beast into a smoother, slower stop, glancing towards the undergrowth carefully, guiding the animal to her, keeping the noise down.
The gravely slide of a pebble whispered in the quiet. She pointed to the left, dismounting, dashing to the spot, freeing her nagamaki, cutting down the brambles in her way with one sweeping motion.
Someone fled, fast, from the hideout metres away, dashing like a hunted rabbit.
Yumi tensed, as if to give chase, stopping, stepping back, exhaling, returning the blade to is sheath on her back, arms crossing, looking around, silent, eyes closing, trying to her, feel anything else, anyone else.
Empty howling wind. Cold.
"Too far." She spoke up as Ryoma approached, still mounted, bringing her horse along, eyes scanning the horizon. The fleeing man was not dressed as a soldier, a scout or a peasant. "Let's move out."
"Even if he denounces us telling anyone we were here will be of no use. This soil doesn't hold tracks." Ryoma nodded, agreeing with her. "Hopefully it was just a poacher."
Defendable was the main requirement of a mountain camp.
Yumi scouted high, checking if the rocks above were unreachable while Ryoma walked away, down the travelled path, carrying a leather bucket towards the stream they had seen as they ascended. The commodity of having water nearby had been exchanged for progress and protection. He would also be able to see if they had been followed and erase any mark they may have left behind. She looked around, feeling the area.
It could box them in in a way but it was also very secure.
Only one way for a threat to come and any of them standing watch would be able to see it coming. Probably able to hear it first, the way the sound travelled.
The fire had to be made from the wood they had brought and whatever twigs were growing out of the rock. It would be smoky but hopefully the mountain winds were enough to make that fade and mask their location.
The horses were brushed and free from their saddles, waiting for the water. Food for them would also come from a bag. There was nothing for them to graze on nearby. Yumi petted their foreheads gently, turning, sitting on the ground, staring at the path, waiting, pushing her hood down. A few days ago she would have followed, sure he would be a liability. Now she just waited and trusted Ryoma wouldn't poison the water. Glancing at the bags Yumi was fairy sure what poison they had brought from the shinobi yashiki was in her bag.
Hiding in the mountains.
Yumi's group had not done so because in the edge of the province there was little to be done to fight against Sojiro. Even if it was more dangerous they had needed, wanted, to be in the thick of it, keeping the pressure.
But those men had no desire to fight. They were predators, hunting for their own selfish survival. And they had attacked. A pair of travellers seemed a weak target even if they were armed.
They came with warning. First light, after sundown, torches and lanterns. Then shouts. The sound of footsteps echoing.
Ryoma had been meditating by the small traveling pot heating their supper. He had stood and gripped his weapons, walking calmly towards the edge of light of their camp. Standing his ground.
Yumi placed the whetstone into her bag, standing, walking to the same limit, hood resuming its place on her head, the unsheathed nagamaki twirling in her hand finding its place in front of her, cradled in both palms.
The horses stood, tied to the rock, hooves clapping against the hard ground, staring at the sound. They had been bred for war. Loud noises were not what spooked them.
Ronin and bandit had fought against each other. Time to see how well they worked together.
Kama, sickles, chains and knives. Peasant weapons. Bloodlust, greed and brute force. At least twenty. The numbers seemed to be their main intimidation tactic. Finding those they had targeted ready to fight took them a bit aback, buying a few seconds of hesitation.
Ryoma claimed that, fast, decisive, opportunistic, charging, breaking through the crowd, slashing them down quickly, demolishing whatever they had perceived as a defence.
As he gained ground Yumi advanced, spinning her blade, opening the terrain, attempting to support the ronin's straightforward strikes with her winding, spiralling wide style, deciding to have his back, keeping him protected as the men closed around them, their shorter weapons keeping them from striking one another by accident.
They wanted to crowd them, to box them.
Through the movements, through combat, they caught each other's eye, falling into step, at first faltering, hesitating, letting a few of those men get a few attacks in as their heartbeats and breathing synchronized, blades almost catching the wrong target as they attempted to harmonize.
Back to back.
The nagamaki moved defensively, taking the katana's place as it strike was done, pushing away whoever took the place of the fallen, whoever tried to target the ronin. Ryoma's back was warm and strong. He was moving with her, making sure there were no openings for the brigands to strike at her.
His slashes pushed outwards as she spun in the following, both ending up in a spiral, carving their way out and in, giving no quarter, no chance of defence. Those who wanted to run were allowed to do so. Those that pressed against their matched strengths were dead.
Their breathing was hard, panting as they stood amidst the fallen. Numbers had done nothing. They did not know if there were more, waiting. They didn't know if the sounds had alerted whoever could be lurking.
Yumi turned slightly, putting a bit of distance between their bodies, gulping, throat dry, staring at Ryoma, lowering her weapon, holding it on one hand, sighing, lowering her head. He seemed as winded as she was, tilting his head, foreheads touching.
Ryoma reached up, taking her hood away, cupping her face, watching her eyes.
The night was cold. Vapour formed as they breathed out, the white plumes brushing each other's lips.
Her gloved palm flattened itself against the ronin's chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat, knowing hers was no better.
From combat.
From merging into a single fighting unity.
From victory.
Eyes closing for a moment, the next pant coming out shaking, Yumi stepped a bit closer. It was warmer there, where he touched. When she was able to see again, eyes opening cautiously, slowly she found his focus on her lips, parted to accommodate the rapid breathing. And she found herself doing the same, eyes gazing downwards.
The horses neighed.
Ryoma stepped back, reddening, looking at his weapon, at her, turning his back, coughing, trying to clear the blood away from the blade, fidgeting.
Mortified by her actions Yumi turned her back too, covering her face with her hand.
"We… should move out." He croaked out after a moment.
"No sense in staying near corpses." Yumi agreed in a wheezing voice.