Chapter Five: Contusion
Peasants didn't linger. They picked themselves up, brushed off the ashes, and moved on. Yui tried. She really did. Yui fell back into a routine as she bandaged wounds, delivered children, and eased colds, using her sheds as a temporary clinic.
She was fine. She was doing fine.
Yet, every time she saw the burnt ruins of her home, it felt like her heart had been torn out. The clinic still smoldered in her mind. Yui was no stranger to violence or destruction, but this had shaken her. The bandit attack—that was expected, a dispassionate occurrence, like an earthquake or flood. This, though… this had happened because of her patients, her friends. And now, her whole clinic was gone.
There were small mercies, though. No one in the village had gotten hurt. The two sheds had been singed and one was missing half its roof, but both were intact, as were its contents. The garden had been wrecked. However, Hashirama's plants had enough green growth that they'd likely recover. Yui had seeds for the rest. She was back down to two decent kusode, but they were better than what she'd had before. Yui had to keep reminding herself of everything she still had, or she'd wallow forever in despair.
With more force than necessary, Yui yanked out one of the weeds in her garden, hissing as thorn lodged itself in her palm. She pulled it out and tossed it onto the pile before stomping on the upturned dirt.
"Are… you ok, Yui-sensei?" mumbled Eiji, eyeing her as he halfheartedly prodded a dandelion.
"Fine." She rubbed her cheek and huffed. "Where's Sen?"
He scowled. "With his newest girlfriend. Don't ask me her name. I don't know."
"Did he go to Mika's house to check on the baby?"
"Yeah, Sen said that the mom and baby are both doing good. Mika was a worried that he was sleeping too much," he snorted in amusement, "but the baby's feeding well."
She shook her head. The boys were both at an age where girls stopped becoming a passing fancy. Sen had embraced—literally and metaphorically—the concept of courtship, taking full advantage of his increased status. Being an apprentice to the village healer, apparently, was very popular with the ladies. On the other hand, Eiji was either more discreet or uninterested.
Yui pulled up another dandelion, debating whether she should bring it to the shed. These weeds had medicinal properties, and when cooked properly, were rather tasty. She had a large supply already, but one more couldn't hurt. Eiji pulled up the one he'd been toying with and cursed. He'd only ripped out the stem, leaving the root in the ground.
"G'morning!" called out a hoarse voice. A woman carrying several bundles stumbled down the path, coughs wracking her body. Aki was a semi-frequent visitor from a village two days away. Every month, the woman would come to purchase cold medicine for her chronic illness and the others in her village, as their own healer had passed away last year.
"Your cough's gotten worse," Yui commented, frowning. "You've been taking all the medicine?"
"Ah, yes, but I ran out. My nephew came down with a cold, so I shared—" Aki came to a sudden stop, horror growing on her face as she stared at the burnt remains. "No," she rasped, coughing once. "It was true. No, how could they? What are you..." Her hand went to her heart. "Your place… it's gone."
Yui stood. "I can still treat you." She gestured towards the shed that had become the temporary clinic. "My medicine's in there."
Gratitude and relief made her slump. "Oh, goodness. Bless you, healer. Bless you."
Yui glanced at her Eiji, and he nodded. "I'll finish weeding for you," he mumbled dolefully, glaring at the crabgrass in the corner. "It shouldn't take too long."
"Thank you," she said to her apprentice. Then, she offered an arm to her patient for support, steadying her as the woman had another coughing fit. "Let's go inside. I'll give you something extra for your cough."
Aki gave her a broken-toothed smile, and Yui was reminded of why she did this at all. "Bless you, healer. You give us more than we deserve."
"No," said Yui, smiling back. "I don't give enough."
After the destruction of her home, Yui felt like she couldn't do anything without someone coming to help her. It was... touching, truly, how so many people had checked on her on some pretense or another. Just yesterday, the village carpenter promised to replace her furniture for free as payment for delivering his child—which had happened three years ago—and the blacksmith had given her a kettle to replace the one that had been burnt. Eiji's mother had given her an extra serving of rice, claiming that she'd forgotten to pay Yui back for healing a long-forgotten cold. Yui hadn't even cooked for weeks as one villager or another used some excuse to give her food.
The regular merchants were just as generous, with Tsubaki giving her extra glassware on the cheap, cloth merchants slipping extra fabric in their payment, others giving her pottery, and so on. Instead of letting her pay or placing her in their debt, almost all of them claimed that they were repaying her for some feigned obligation or the other. She'd never recover everything, but Yui'd replaced her essentials very fast. All that was left was to rebuild her clinic.
Equally generous, if not more, were the ninja's responses. Emigiku, for one, left behind kimonos, each more elaborate than the last (and likely not obtained legally). Others left money or a smattering of supplies—one man named Shikari had left a 'sympathy' note with detailed instructions on how to gain revenge on the clans involved—but all of the ninja, however, knew exactly who'd done it.
"Uchiha," they'd mutter under their breath, followed by an equally vitriolic, "Senju."
A member from those two clans, however, hadn't been to her clinic in nearly three weeks. It made Yui wonder. Where they afraid she wouldn't treat them? That she'd bar them from her clinic entirely? With no way to contact them, she could only wait until they came to her.
On a muggy summer day, Yui brushed back her hair from sweaty face and stared at another one of her failed cultures. The gelatin base worked, but she was still having trouble finding the right mold that would produce penicillin. She sighed and began to clean up.
"Yui-nee?" said Sen, opening the door to the shed. He spoke carefully, each syllable enunciated and clear. "Someone's here to see you."
To see her—not for treatment? Perhaps it was a merchant wanting to purchase medicine, though she wasn't sure why Sen hadn't said their name. He was familiar with most of them, and the ones he didn't know would likely share their names with him.
"I'll be there in a second." She scrubbed the last bit of mold and put it in boiling water to sanitize it.
"I think… you should probably go now. I'll finish it up."
Yui glanced at him, finally noticing the stiff way he was standing, fists clenched, eyes wide. Ninja. "Alright," she said quietly, washing her hands. "I'll come."
The outside heat was just as oppressive as the inside humidity of her shed. Yui wiped the sweat from her forehead again and looked around for the ninja who had come—but not for treatment. He was crouched by the garden, fingers brushing the delicate new growth of her plants. For a moment, she didn't recognize him. His brown hair was tied back, and he was lacking his tell-tale red armor. Then, he stood and stepped forward.
"On behalf of my clan and Touka," Hashirama said immediately, meeting her gaze, "I sincerely profess, th-that I, that we…" He stumbled and tried to continue regardless, voice rising. "For the great wrong done to—" He cut off again, swallowed, and glanced down at the ground as if berating himself.
When Hashirama looked up, all formality had vanished, and his eyes were full of determination and heartbreak. "Oh, Yui-san, I'm so sorry. I would've come sooner, but… I couldn't be spared."
She stared at him for a long moment, noticing the bags under his eyes and a sallow complexion that spoke of overwork. Yui doubted she looked much better. Like her, he was exhausted, but his exhaustion was the kind she saw on those coming to her from recent battle—the kind that spoke of war.
"How is Touka?" she said finally.
He blinked, and the beginnings of cautious relief spread on his face. "She's doing well. Your stitches held until she made it back, and our healers took care of the rest."
"That's good."
They were both quiet for a moment, each taking in the other. Then, Hashirama broke the fragile silence.
"I'm here to make things right, Yui-san."
He was empty-handed, and she wondered exactly how he would try.
"I'm still practicing this," he admitted. "It might not be the best, but it should help."
The general frame of her home's replacement had been built, but it would be weeks before it could be completed. With deliberate steps, Hashirama paced around the its borders, making one round, then two, before stepping back and closing his eyes. Twisting his hands in a strange manner, Hashirama breathed in and held it. Then, he breathed out, and a surge of chakra saturated everything, filling the air and dancing on her skin, deep and heavy and thrumming like the empty air of an old forest. Hashirama took another breath, and when he exhaled, trees burst from the ground. They grew taller and then bent, folding and twisting further until they became the shape of her clinic.
Yui stared. She stared and stared and wondered if this was some fever dream, some cruel illusion—if this could possibly real.
"I know it can't make up for what happened, for everything you lost." Hashirama's voice was strained, and his hands were shaking. "But I hope it… that it…"
He swayed once, and Yui finally snapped out of her daze. She rushed to his side and eased him down to the ground, checking his pulse and temperature with ease born of habit.
"I'm fine," Hashirama insisted, attempting to push aside her hands. "It's just a lack of sleep and mild chakra exhaustion. I'll be fine, really. When I get home, I'll sleep, and I'll be as good as new!"
"You grew a house." She laughed out of sheer astonishment. "How? How are you fine? How did you do that?"
He laughed too, weak and shallow instead of with his usual brightness. "Ah, well… what can I say? It's just something I've been able to do."
"I'll say." She shook her head, concerned and stunned despite his assurances. "You never stop amazing me."
He gave in and laid back, looking up at her with a wry smile. "I could say the same."
They stayed like that for a few moments, Yui speechless at the impossibility of what she'd seen, Hashirama teetering at the edge of exhaustion. Her thoughts revolved nothing but the newly-grown house, full of awe and disbelief—and they came crashing down as she remembered why it had been needed in the first place. Yui never wanted it to happen again. She looked at the man sitting beside her. He was a friend, a ninja, and the son of the Senju clan leader. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met, someone who dreamed beyond the confines of this society. Hashirama had been so kind to her, so giving. But she still had more to ask.
"Hashirama-san…" she began, trailing off. "Do you remember that favor your father promised?"
"Hm? Yes?" Hashirama looked, and his smile was now gentle.
"I know that it... I know it's been paid over already, but can I ask for one more?"
He sat up. "Yui-san, we still owe you too much to repay. Of course you can ask, and I'll do whatever I can to fulfill it."
"I want my clinic to be a place where no one fights." She struggled for a moment to think of the phrase before finally remembering. "I want it to be neutral ground. Officially. I want your clan's word." Yui paused and added, "And I will talk to the Uchiha, too."
Hashirama's eyes widened. "You're familiar with them."
She swallowed, now nervous. He'd talked about a world without conflict, but for all she knew, they were just words. "I, I know that the Senju and Uchiha don't get along—"
He grasped her hands. "Yui-san," he breathed, "if this… this could be the first step for peace…"
Hashirama face lit up with hope and determination. "My father will do it. I will make sure of it."
Yui couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you," she said, packing all her joy and gratitude into those two words. "For everything."
"No, Yui-san. Thank you."
The house wasn't perfectly built; there were a few gaps in the walls and roofs that had to be patched over. However, Yui was able to move in near immediately. It was bigger than her old clinic, with four rooms instead of two, and the whole place thrummed lightly of chakra even days later. Everytime she looked at her clinic, Yui felt a warm sort of affection and awe at the complete impossibility of Hashirama growing a house for her.
Everyone else, of course, felt the same way. As a consequence, the rumors about her being blessed—about her being a goddess—increased ten fold. She bore them with bemusement, unsure what to make of the small shrine that had been built for the God of Medicine outside her home. (Secretly, Yui wondered if the offerings were for the god… or for her.)
A week after Hashirama's arrival, a young man arrived at her doorstep. He looked to be Sen's age, in his late teens, if not a little older. From the tight-fitting armor, he was clearly a ninja. Yui gave him a careful look, lingering at the x-shaped scar covering his cheek and the pale-brown hair. He looked strangely familiar.
The teen bowed deeply. "You do us great honor, Yui-san," he said, handing her a bound scroll. "It is done."
"Thank you," she murmured back, taking it.
With another bow, he vanished. She hardly blinked, going back inside to the table.
"Watcha got there, sis?" Sen perked up from stitching the banana peel. "More payment?"
Yui shook her head and unwrapped the scroll. She puzzled through the kanji, asking Eiji for help on the more complicated ones. When she reached the wax seal with the Senju crest at the end, Yui smiled. Hashirama had come through; his clan had officially sworn to treat her clinic as a neutral place free of violence.
"A promise," answered Yui, finally. "A promise for peace."
Only a few days after his Senju counterpart made amends, Madara appeared. More specifically, he appeared outside her clinic and knocked, a fact which Yui pointed out with immediate disbelief.
"You knocked."
He stared at her, then the clinic, before looking back at her with an expression bordering on uncomfortable.
"Yes."
She stepped aside, and Madara entered with none of his perfunctory assurance. He wasn't shy or hesitant—indeed, Yui wasn't convinced he could ever be—but almost… muted. Madara reached out and touched the walls of her clinic, breathing in sharply. Then, he turned around. In his hands was a cloth bag (and no severed limbs, she was glad to see), which Madara held out to her after a moment of consideration.
"Healer, I have come to make amends."
Yui took the bag and waited.
He paused, expecting her to speak, and continued stiffly. "It is but a mere token. It is not enough to repay you—"
"You're right," she agreed.
Madara halted. "What?" He didn't stammer, but the incredulity made the single word rise sharply in pitch.
"It's not enough." Yui set the pouch on the table. It was heavy, and its contents clinked softly; she had no doubt that it was money.
"Then… what is it you want?" He didn't sound offended. Instead, slight curiosity undermined the affected disinterest in his words and expression.
She spoke, enunciating each unfamiliar word. "I want an accord of neutrality for my clinic."
"Neutrality?" he repeated, sharp and dry. "You want your clinic to officially be neutral ground?"
"Yeah—ah, yes. Yes, I do." Yui looked at his hands before meeting his eyes again. "You won't fight in my village. No one from your clan."
He exhaled, almost long enough to be a sigh. "It is a fanciful thought, but the Senju would never agree. Their current leader is a hateful old man who refuses—"
Yui pulled the scroll from her shelf and placed it on the table. Madara stared at it. He glanced at her before unrolling it. His eyes skimmed the scroll, and for the second time, an expression of pure shock overcame him. For a moment, he stood frozen in disbelief, but then, confusion and suspicion and finally, hope, flickered across his face.
"I…" he began. Madara stopped. He read it again, and another time, before he looked up. "What if I say no?"
This time, she was the one who sighed. Yui sat down and gestured for him to join her, and he obliged with deliberate grace. The tea kettle whistled. Yui made no move to get it.
"There's nothing I can do," she said finally.
"What are you saying?" he asked, a hint of haughtiness returning to his tone.
"With ninja, I'm always at a disadvantage." She folded her hands, calm and level. "You could kill me without blinking, and I couldn't stop you. I can't make you do anything."
Madara bristled just as the steam hissed again. "That isn't true. You could always threaten not to give us treatment or medicine."
Yui was quiet for a bit. She'd be lying if she said that the thought had never crossed her mind. But each time, she came to the same conclusion.
"No. I won't use medicine to force people." Yui looked at him, unyielding. This was another line she refused to cross. "Healing is a right. I won't ever hold it over anyone's head. It's not..." It's not conditional, she wanted to say, but words failed her again. "If I was to stop giving your clan medicine, who would get hurt most?"
He said nothing, instead watching her with scrutiny that bordered on piercing.
She continued, picking up steam, "It wouldn't be the people who didn't agree. It wouldn't be the ones with the power to say yes or no. It'd be the kids, the poor, the ones who can't get treatment by themselves. Who'd I be hurting?" Yui pressed her hand flat on the table and spoke with utter conviction. "I don't get to chose who deserves healing and who doesn't."
The kettle whistled for the third time in the stretching silence. "And," she said, wry as she added an afterthought, "telling ninja 'No' makes them want to kill me more."
Now, Madara seemed almost amused. "You have no trouble defying ninja. And if you fear for your life so much, you could learn to defend yourself. You already do know how to use chakra."
Yui laughed. "Defend myself? What ninja's gonna teach me?" She rose to take the kettle from the fire. "Besides, I don't think as much people would come for help if they thought I could hurt them." She looked over her shoulder as she added more wood to the fire. "You never really answered me, though. D'you think the Uchiha clan would agree to neutral ground?"
He didn't sigh, but as he breathed out, his tense posture loosened into something more informal. "Yes," Madara said, quiet. "Of course we would. Your medicine has been invaluable to the clan, healer, mitigating one of the disadvantages my clan has long had. The only concern would be of the Senju reciprocating, but you've already handled that."
She smiled, soft and slow, and brought the kettle over. "Tea?"
He nodded, looking away, and Yui poured him a cup.
"So you think the leader of the Uchiha clan will agree?" she asked.
"Well, of course." Madara blinked at her. "After all, I am the leader of the Uchiha clan."
She paused mid-pour. "Oh." That… certainly explained a lot, from his demeanor to his aura of command. He never talked about himself, not really, but Yui still turned pink with embarrassment from not having realized sooner.
A small smirk pulled at his lips, but Madara let it pass without comment.
They both drank their tea, content with silence, until he suddenly asked her a question. "Do you think peace is possible?"
"Of course," she answered without hesitation.
"But you said earlier that there is nothing you could do against ninja. Against violence." Madara narrowed his eyes. "How can you be certain about peace if you are so powerless?"
"Physically, yes. And in the way you think about power." Yui sipped at her tea and grimaced. She had let it steep too long, and now it was bitter. "But there are other ways to change things. Kind words. Good deeds. Friendships."
His short laugh was mocking. "Has it worked?" he said, harsh and sardonic.
"Has it?" she repeated softly. Yui glanced at the scroll on the table and then at him.
Madara paused. His frown couldn't be called conflicted, but it no longer held that same conviction. "What if..." he said after a moment, subdued. "What if peace were truly impossible?"
"It doesn't mean we should stop trying." Yui continued drinking her tea despite the taste; Madara had set it aside long ago. "If we think we can't change something, then we never will."
He stared at her for long enough to make the silence uncomfortable, and for a second, it seemed like there was a crimson glint in his eyes. "You're quite naive."
"That doesn't mean I'm wrong."
"No," he agreed, and his smile was sharp and honest and just a little tentative. "No, it doesn't."
The book merchant returned, entourage in tow. This time, Toshihiro had his three ninja guards (as well as their four dogs) and three samurai. Also present was a thin man who seemed to be in his mid-thirties. Round spectacles slipped from his nose, and he wore the traditional, pale green haori of professional doctors. Before, having so many people in her clinic would have been unbearably crowded, but her new, larger one meant that it was only a little cramped.
"Ah, Yui-san!" Toshihiro swept in, embroidered kimono sleeves flapping as he bowed shallowly but ostentatiously. "I have returned, as I always shall do. Your exquisiteness elaborates me to return!"
The doctor and the older samurai frowned at that, but neither commented.
"I heard rumors that this whole place burned down, but I am certainly ineffably delighted to hear that was just that: rumors."
Yui didn't bother to correct him as he continued with his praise. Finally, he'd wound himself down enough to get to the actual point.
"Which brings me to one of the reasons I have made the dangerous, dangerous travail to reach your humble abode." With another flourish, he presented her with a bound book. She took it, joy rising up as she saw the printed words on the title page. Yui's Medical Primer. Sen and Eiji, who'd been gawking at the samurai from the corner of the room, crowded her.
"Look, look!" said Eiji as he pointed at one of his printed illustrations. "I drew that!"
"It has your name on it, sis!" Sen seemed just as proud as he finished sounding out the words of the title.
Toshihiro cleared his throat. "Perhaps you could send the children out while so we can finish discussing matters? We wouldn't want them getting in the way, and I've so dearly longed to speak with you."
The two boys bristled. At around eighteen years old, they were adults by every measure. The merchant's words were nothing but pure condescension, and Sen's red face suggested that his temper was about to flare. Yui touched his shoulder and gave Toshihiro a firm look.
"My apprentices know how to behave," she said quietly.
His nose wrinkled. "Very well." Toshihiro placed a bag of coins on the table. "Enclosed is your twenty-five percent cut of the profits. It sold rather well in the rural areas, I must admit, even though it failed miserably in the capital and cities. Such a shame that they do not see your wisdom!"
"Twenty-five percent?" Yui frowned at him. "We agreed on one-third."
"Did we?" His put-upon expression of utter shock was convincing to no one, but the way he glanced back at the samurai was. The oldest one had accompanied the merchant when they'd made the agreement, and he seemed rather displeased.. "Ah, goodness. Ah, forgive me, dearest. It must have slipped my mind."
Toshihiro placed a few more coins in the pouch and paused. "Are you certain it wasn't thirty-percent?"
"Should I bring the contract?" She wasn't bluffing—she'd kept the contract and other important papers in her shed. Yui didn't care that much about a few coins, but it was the principle of the matter. She refused to be swindled, especially when she'd been so generous with the initial terms. Of course, Toshihiro could have lied about how much profit he'd made in total, but there wasn't much she could do about that.
"No need! I remember now, it was certainly one-third. How foolish I have been! As I grow older, these memory lapses happen from time to time, especially when I bask in your presence."
"Bullshit," mumbled Sen.
Yui gave her brother a harsh glance before fixing Toshihiro with a frown. She let him squirm under her gaze (and those of his retainers, specifically the samurai) before letting the matter drop.
"It didn't sell good in the cities?" she asked. Regardless, Yui was glad to hear that her book was doing well in the rural areas—which tended to have less knowledge of medicine, anyway.
"No, it did not." Toshihiro's words were clipped. Unexpectedly, he did not continue.
"Why?"
For a second, his eyes were full of all the poorly-hidden disdain he held for her. "Because," he said slowly, as if speaking to a dim child, "you're a peasant woman from the outskirts with no true medical knowledge. Why in the world would trained doctors in the cultured cities listen to you?" His saccharine smile returned. "No matter. You will always be like the sun to me, shining your bright knowledge onto those who listen."
Yui knew, consciously, of the ingrained sexism in this society. She saw examples of it everyday, of the unspoken rules that controlled what women could and couldn't do. And yet… and yet, Yui had forgotten that they could affect her too. She'd been so used to being an outlier, someone who was treated with near-equal respect despite her gender—not an exception, per se, but someone who the rules bent around.
But that was only in her village. That was only by her patients.
"Well," he said, the smirk lingering on his face, "you managed to impress at least one esteemed doctor. You certainly have some luck, my loveliest." He gestured towards aforementioned man. "May I introduce Doctor Makoto?"
The doctor stepped forward. "A pleasure, Yui-san, to be formally acquainted at last." His voice was soft, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses had sat.
"I believe he wanted to discuss some matters concerning your… book. Possibly to correct certain medical inaccuracies, though I know how infallible you are." Toshihiro's smugness grew. "Now, while you two, ah, continue on, I shall proceed to the village. There was this one… tart that I wanted to sample." He snapped at his entourage. "Noburo, Kon, you two stay with the doctor. The rest, follow me."
Dutifully, the rest of the guards shuffled after him, leaving only the elder samurai and the youngest Inuzuka behind—and his large, bear-like dog, who whuffed once before lying on the floor. Eiji edged backwards, eyeing the dog with contained panic, while Sen crouched down and stared at it from several feet away.
Doctor Makoto cleaned his glasses for the third time as he squinted at her. Finally, he sighed, and with trembling fingers, placed them back on the bridge of his nose.
"Do you remember me?" he asked, wry.
Perhaps he was a tad familiar, but he didn't stand out from the sea of faces that had passed through her clinic. "Afraid not," she admitted.
"That doesn't surprise me. It's been almost a decade since we met." The doctor smiled at her, and it was self-deprecating but also rather kind, even as he fidgeted with his sleeve. "You may not remember me, but I remember you. How could I not? I've been thinking of you almost every day."
Yui paused, surprised. Had he been one of her patients? She cast her mind back ten years, only a year after Old Anzu's passing, trying to remember.
"I was a young man then, one who'd only become a doctor at his father's request. I'd just graduated, and I was restless and unhappy, convinced that I'd made the wrong choice in listening to him. So, like any other foolish boy, I decided that I wanted an adventure. I wanted to run away. And I did."
Makoto spoke like someone who had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in his head, each word deliberate and smooth. "Instead of working as a court doctor for one noble or another, as my father wished, I found a traveling caravan heading to Earth Country. They needed a healer, so I offered my services. They gladly took me along. Little did they know. Little did I know."
He continued, "It went smoothly at first. Then, everyone started becoming sick with cholera, and I panicked. I was arrogant, stupid… and worst of all, I didn't know what to do. As a last resort, the merchant leading the caravan had asked the local healer of a nearby village for help." The doctor paused. "And out comes this little slip of a girl, barely past her tenth year. She did everything I couldn't. She separated the patients, procured clean water, treated the symptoms… this girl healed them. I was utterly affronted."
Everyone, from Eiji and Sen to the ninja and samurai, were listening. The doctor blinked, noticing his audience was more than just her, and smiled again, just as wry.
"Even after we left the village, I couldn't help but think about her. How could this peasant girl do what I couldn't? When we returned from the trip, I threw myself back into my studies, determined to be better. As I grew older, it became less competitive and more admiring. This girl did what I couldn't, without any of the advantages I had, and that thought became tinged with sadness. How unfair it was, that I had access to so much and she didn't. As rumors of a village with an incredible healer arose, I immediately thought of her. Could it be?"
Doctor Makoto pointed to the book. "This was the last straw, of course. Yui's Primer. Written by someone with the same name as that girl from a decade ago, full of information that a village healer shouldn't have. I knew none of my colleagues would take it seriously because they didn't know." He met her eyes, and gone was the twitchy man of her first impressions. "You changed my life. I am here to repay the debt, Yui-sensei."
Yui was at loss for words. Dim memories resurfaced, of a merchant caravan who had stopped by, of gastrointestinal disease and a whiny healer. It had been so long ago, such an ordinary event, and yet, to know that she had made such an impact…
He cleared his throat and took out another copy of her book. This one was dog-eared and bent and underlined thoroughly. The doctor flipped open to a marked page and pointed at a circled word.
"Here, you wrote about animalcules and their—"
"Animal.. culs?" she interrupted.
Tugging at his sleeves, Doctor Makoto explained, "You called them jyaamuzu and said that they were the cause of sickness. The tiny creatures that can be seen under a microscope—that is, a glass device that allows for one to look at small things. The official term for jyaamuzu is animalcules, you see. Some agree that they cause diseases, but most doctors consider miasma to be the source."
She nodded, committing the terms to memory.
He murmured something to the samurai, who brought forward a sack of books. "In here, I have my old medical texts. I hope you will accept them from me."
Yui's eyes widened. A chance to learn the current state of medicine in this world—the advanced kind found in the cities—and gauge its state? To learn the actual terms this world used instead of her cobbled mishmash?
"I-I'd love to," she stammered out. "But, what do you want for it?"
Doctor Makoto bowed, lower than he had to. "Teach me what you know, Yui-sensei, and let me rewrite your book. My colleagues would never listen to a peasant woman, but they might listen to me. In return, I will tell you what I know and what medicine has already done, and half of the proceeds will go to you."
It took her just a moment. She wouldn't get credit, but that didn't matter. Not when this could change so much. Yui bowed back. "It'd be my honor."
He straightened. "No," he said, his smile wobbling, "it'd be mine."
AN: Every time I say this, and every time I mean it. Thank you so, so much for your support. The reviews, favorites, and follows were almost overwhelming; I read and appreciate every single one. October hit me harder than expected, and I'll likely still flounder through November (which looks to be even busier). To make up for it, I'll try to get a double-update in December and catch up with everything then.
Special thanks to Iaso, masqvia, and PyrothTenka for beta-reading the chapter. They're all amazing people and amazing writers. Speaking of shout-outs, I'd like to give an extra one to PyrothTenka for writing a short extra for Sanitize (posted on my tumblr) and gerbilfriend for drawing me fanart, which is linked on my profile. As always, thank you all for reading.