DFS Chapter 23
Tsuru walks beside her brother. The man carrying a large, round pot of chamomile in his well muscled, almost bulging arms. The plant similar to the ones that grew in clumps throughout their library, among hundreds of other treasures her siblings have brought home to her. The only difference is she has wrapped this one in white cloth, and tied it with a large, fabric bow. It's shade, a bright red.
Something that won't be considered overly feminine or unlucky, but still attractive enough to be presentable as a gift.
Hundreds of curious, and suspicious eyes trail after them from inside the tall, cylinderical buildings made of mortared volcanic rock. A few of the more traditional, hand sewn tents still linger even after almost two years here. Cutting strange figures with their long, vertical stripes. Their shape close to rectangular, with entrances that remind Tsuru of curtains. Brightly colored banners hang on either side. The roofs above triangular, with an overlapping section that's runs down its length, and the edges of the structure below.
Fifty feet away, near the center of the compound a larger tent sits, though lower as if to encourage sitting. Gray, low hanging smoke escapes from many places in it's ceiling, and is blown by the wind creeping down from the mountains.
A few of the idling Kaguya men approach them as they near, more sentries no doubt warned by people slipping in, and out of the apartment buildings.
Yuichi tries to smile as their father does but he is to stiff and way to formal by nature. Sachihiro may of been a better choice, Tsuru realizes.
And then a boy pushes past the pale, dove gray garbed men, forcing them to break from the wall they had been forming. "Grandmother is expecting the girl, and you are holding her up," he grouses, looking cross.
"I will take your sibling from here," the boy, Getsumei says suddenly, sizing her brother up as the other men had.
Tsuru almost laughs. Of her brothers Yuichi is most physically impressive yes, but he is also the most calculating, and the least likely to start a fight outright, or just for the fun of it.
"Very well," her brother replies. His tone clipped "Hold out your arms, boy. And you, otouto are to be on your best behavior."
"Of course Yuichi-nii," she says throwing her arms around him, startling the other men. "Make sure to pack the container I left on the counter for you."
His face softens.
A callused hand falls to Tsuru's head, and ruffles her loosely woven hair. "I will, thank you. "
"Yagura will collect you at the agreed upon time. Remember."
Tsuru knods, and steps forward. Offering the Kaguya what she hopes is a disarming smile. "You are Subarou's elder brother, Getsumei. Correct?"
0o0o0
The Kaguya are louder than she expected, and jostle each other as they walk by.
"My brother informs us you have many wonderous stories to tell," Getsumei informs her, still watching her with a strange intensity. His cheeks no longer dusted pink.
Tsuru pats her bag. "I brought something I thought your brother might enjoy."
"Is it something to do with these pirates of yours?"
Tsuru laughs, and it is a pleasant sound. "No, not today. I have something different."
0o0o0
The woman, Kaguya Kureha cuts an intimidating figure.
Tsuru bows immediately. Her eyes watering slightly with the onslaught of fragrant incense that wafts out the door frame. Heat rushing past her frame. "Sorry for intruding upon you."
"You are letting the warm air out. Come in."
"Thank you," she says, following. Admiring the rug strewn floor, beyond the tamami laden entrance. "I have brought a few things, gifts, as I wasn't sure what was considered appropriate."
"They are nothing special."
"You needn't play coy girl. The tea you gave my nephew, eased my brothers cough."
Tsuru stiffens.
That had been a secret. A small kindness meant for the weary Kimimaro, who had been attending the man. She should of known the Kaguya would of noticed her slipping the gentle boy a small bag, with a note enclosed.
He had been so hesisitant.
"I have brought something similar," Tsuru admits, still being herded along the bottom floor, towards the back rooms that often held the entertaining area. Grateful only Getsumei was facing her.
"Tsuru-chan?" Subarou asks, wheesing. A cough racking his body as he shifts. The sound coming from deep in his chest. Bronchitis she thinks, recognizing the sound. That look of pain.
The boy tries again to rise to greet her. Heavy blankets, and furs sliding down his form. Bunching at his waist. His aunt or mother, Tsuru isn't sure scowls, and pushes him down. Adjusts the bedding.
And again, his chest heaves.
"You need to put more pillows beneath him, raise his torso and head," she murmers, stepping closer as if to help. The sound coming from the child awful. "He will breath easier in an reclined, almost sitting position."
"Have you tried throwing a towel over Subarou's head as he leans over boiling water?"
Kureha sends her a reproachful look.
"Sorry," she apologizes. "I usually help care for my siblings when they are ill."
A partial lie. Her siblings rarely fell sick, as often as the Kaguya or many of the more powerful clan members seemed too. Though to be honest, the civilians had it worse, with little to no chakra reserves to augment their healing.
An older woman with white hair to rival Kimimaro's watches her with cloudy eyes from his other side. A rattle in her hands. "And what have you brought us, young priestess?"
Tsuru moves towards them, and kneels at the edge of the boys palette beside Getsumei. Smiles at the flushed child, his skin covered in a thin layer of visible sweat. Squeezes his hand instead of a proper greeting, knowing she has to answer Irei, who had addressed her first.
They had been trying to sweat out a cold Tsuru realizes, as she tries not to sneeze. Uncomfortable in the haze of rising smoke. It burns her nose, as well as eyes.
She wonders if it's any good for Subarou's lungs.
Opening her dark, beaded sachal Tsuru removes two jars and offers them the her elder. The paper taped to glass marked with simple to use instructions now useless, with the womans eyes compromised.
"The larger one is yuzu syrup, and the smaller one is peppermint oil. I prepared them myself."
Her fingers still green, because she had forgotten to wear gloves.
The old woman opens the jars one at a time, and sniffs delicately. Eyes widening when she draws open the second.
"This is good for aches."
"Yes, and you needn't much. A few drops each time. My siblings often use it, when they are congested. No... When their noses are clogged as well. You just rub a small amount on the chest every few hours with a warm compress."
"I have also brought a planter full of chamomile," Tsuru gestures, to where blank has put the container down. The boy having rushed upstairs to grab more bedding when she first spoke. "The heads if shaved can be used to make a tea, that is both calming and a sleep aid."
The woman's response is warm. "Who taught you medicine child?"
"I've learned alot from reading old scrolls, and texts. Sometimes the medics at the hospital will let me watch them prepare salves and tinctures if I sit quietly, among their students. Yagura-nii forces them too accept anyone who shows an interest. Civilian or not."
Her previous knowledge, only expanding on it.
0o0o0
It's brighter in the home, now that the ritual incense has been removed.
The woman indulge her, helping Tsuru change the bedding while Saburou is forced into the hot, steaming shower by his brother.
She can hear him coughing, but it seems to be easing the longer he's in the bathroom.
"He will be more tired, but the illness will cling less," she says with authority. Her elders responding well to the tone, if only with amusement. "We just have to make sure he is dried properly after, and kept warm."
Irei cackles and her daughter's expression shifts. "I should take you as my apprentice. You would keep our people on their toes."
"I doubt your clan members are any more difficult than my sibli-"
A hand lands on Tsuru's shoulders. "You are going to catch ill."
Tsuru looks back, taking in the freshly dressed child. Subarou's ink black hair long and loose, nearly luminous in the light. Wet strands dripping, and landing on her top half.The familiar curve of the boy's mouth pulled into a pout. His brows knotted together.
"Give me that towel and sit," she orders. A droplet sliding down her neck, and making her shiver
Subarou obeys, with widening eyes.
"I will need a brush too, Getsumei-kun," she calls.
"You needn't," Subarou protests, trying to take the towel from her.
"Hush, boy. Your friend has made up her mind to care for you. Accept it."
Tsuru grins, pleased.
She begins the process of drying the boys hair. Longer than hers, when he wears its undone.
"I am already exposed to the illness, so it hardly matters," Tsuru offers quietly, taking the brush that has been deposited near her.
She starts at the bottom, and then moves up. The boy beneath her close to melting, his body slack.
If her was a cat Tsuru thinks, he would be purring.
"And you don't need to talk so much. I know it hurts to breath, let alone talk."
"You've expierenced this before?"
"Twice. My father panicked both times," Tsuru says with a laugh. "Eito-nii had to ban him from the doctor's office."
0o0o0
Yagura enters behind the Kaguya clan head.
A tall, evenly built man with tanned, and weathered skin. His face square, and bearing angular, almost aristocratic features. The exceptions his bent, and crooked nose and the gash bisecting thin, wide lips. His muscles flexing under his robes as he walks. No, stalks Yagura mentally corrects, like a big cat cutting through the tall grasses.
The man suddenly slows, cocking an ear. Listening to his little sister's lilt, and how her voice carries. The Mark of the Horse Lord spilling from her lips, a book published by an author she had loved as a child.
It is nearly a third done when they arrive.
A cool, camphoraceous odor greets them, with hints of citrus accompanying it.
The mans nose wrinkles, and he frowns trying to place the smell.
Yagura knows immediately.
The youngest son of the clan's head resting peacefully beside his sister, and the other woman at a low, heated table. A compress on both the boy's forehead, and chest. Soft snores, escaping from his half-prone form.
Hyoe's other son, listening to Tsuru with rapt attention.