Silver
by
Silvrethorn
"Oh, Jin, look! Isn't it beautiful?" The glitter of silver in the empty cottage caught Fuu's eye the moment she looked inside. That the shining object turned out to be a hairpin and not coins mattered little. Fuu knew quality when she saw it, and the hairpin was very fine.
"Put it back where you found it." Fuu looked up at her companion, stung. The samurai was rarely sharp with her, but there was no mistaking the tone of his voice. Fuu turned the pin in her hands.
"But the owner is..."
"Dead, yes. They're all dead."
"But..." She said this to herself; Jin was no longer listening. The silver gleamed softly, and Fuu could see her face reflected in the polished shank. As its owner must have seen her own face every time she held it.
But was it Fuu's own face she saw? Or was it someone else's? In the dim light it was difficult to tell. The reflected eyes seemed darker, the hair longer, the face thinner and older. Fuu gasped and dropped the hairpin on the table she had taken it from.
"Jin! Wait!" Fuu called, and leaving the things of the dead in the house of the dead she hurried in the steps of her living companion.
