The fog hung thick and white, its dampness permeating the cold air. With a sigh, Tahomaru tugged irritably at his horse's reins, disliking the clammy sensation clinging to his skin. His heavy moss-green kimono stuck uncomfortably to his body, and even his horse's steps seemed slowed by the oppressive weather.

"Father's horse is out of sight now." Tahomaru muttered, his brow furrowing. "Troublesome… I can't see a thing." He recalled rumors of a lake in this area, then involuntarily tightened his grip on the reins while his eyes were sharpening with caution.

A sudden rustling broke the silence, accompanied by the drip, drip of water—the sound of someone wringing cloth.

Who'd be out here in this cursed fog?He wondered. Some blundering samurai like himself? And it seemed someone had fallen into the lake awkwardly. A chuckle escaped him as he guided his horse toward the noise.

The blurred silhouette gradually resolved into a small figure crouching by the water, its hair fluttering in the fog—not at all what he had predicted. Tahomaru thought privately, Hm… a woman?

As the fog dissolved near the lakeshore, the figure sharpened into clarity—a child in a slightly oversized cherry-blossom kimono, its crumpled puddling around her bare, mud-streaked feet. She wrung out the handkerchief, utterly unconcerned about her untidy state. She just looked like a child and actually she was.

They stared at each other in mutual surprise—her lips parting and hands hovering, his gaze unblinking and body rigid.

"Fufu…" Tahomaru broke the silence with a low laugh, tilting his head. Not a samurai, nor a woman. Just a child adorned in a beautiful but mud-streaked kimono.

Dororo gazed at the intruder: his orange hair curled wildly, and his narrow eyes, slightly narrowed with upturned outer corners, strikingly resembled those of a fox. Dressed in a moss-green kimono and a deep purple-black kataginu (a stiff-shouldered formal jacket worn by samurai), he carried a samurai sword on his waist. Even in this remote place, his vivid hair and lavish clothes left no doubt of his status—he might well be the scion of an aristocratic family, a young master to the very breed of his bone.

Another hateful samurai!She recalled the bad deeds of the samurai she had encountered before, and suddenly had no good intentions towards the person in front of her.

"So there's just a child." Tahomaru drawled, squinting with mockery lacing his tone.

"What?!" Dororo shot back. "Look at you. Aren't you still a kid yourself?"

"You have a cute face, but your words are harsh." He retorted, amused.

She shuddered at the unwanted compliment—she didn't want a stranger to put the word "cute" on her. She hastily finished her task and wanted to escape from this foggy place quickly.

He ignored her displeasure, chuckling lowly and said, "Look at you wringing that soaked handkerchief. Is someone sick?"

She remained silent, continuing to do her own thing. Then stood abruptly, and rushed back down the path she had come.

She walked, while he casually guided his horse to match her pace.

"Why are you following me?!"

Keeping one eye lazily closed, he smiled and suggested ,"Need a ride? Those stones look rough for bare feet. That basin looks heavy too—"

"It's not your business. Young Master!Just be careful of yourself. Don't let that horse toss you into the lake." She quickened her steps, cutting off his reply as she dismissed his offer.

"Young master?" He repeated, catching her emphasis on 'young' as if she was venting her dissatisfaction with his previous use of the term "child". A grin spread across his face. "I'm called Tahomaru. Everyone here knows the Daigo name."

She kept walking. "So what do you mean?"

"If you're in trouble, you could come to my estate for help."

"Hmph, I don't need your help." She snorted, quickening her steps as if to escape the conversation.

"Seeing you in such a hurry, someone in your family is sick? I know a great doctor who may be able to help."

His tone softened unexpectedly, each word laced with genuine concern. She thought, Perhaps this man wasn't another hateful samurai. Just a strange kind of good.Dororo thought of her aniki Hyakkimaru's agonized face as he recovered his eyes. She sighed, and finally relented. "It's…my aniki. He is not sick or injured, so even the best doctor cannot help."

"Is that your older brother?"

"No…I met him on the journey. He saved my life once. But now he's in pain while recovering part of his body…"

"Recovering?" Tahomaru was confused.

"…from the realm of dead." She struggled to explain, then wondered why she was sharing this with someone she just met. Growing impatient, she snapped, "Aah, I don't understand it. Why am I telling all this to a stranger?! Just go away! And don't fall into that big lake — your family would be worried sick!"

He wanted to continue questioning, but there were distant shouts behind him that suddenly interrupted them.

"Look, someone is calling out to you, hurry up, young master."

"Tahomaru." He stressed his name again, trying to replace the title.

"Yeah, yeah—Master Tahomaru."

Still hadn't changed totally, yet hearing his name in her voice sent a strange warmth blooming in his chest. A laugh escaped before he could stop it."Your name?"

"Huh! Why do I tell a stranger?"

"We've met now." He countered, smiling. "In case you need me for help."

"Well, a only-met-once person. I don't—nee-eed—"

The approaching shouts grew urgent. With a final lingering look, Tahomaru wheeled his horse around. "I'll be waiting." He said before vanishing into the fog.

Dororo turned her head, staring at the empty space he'd occupied. "Weird guy," she muttered, "as puzzling as the fog."

"No mishaps in the fog, I hope? The lake is treacherous—you didn't fall in, Tahomaru?" The commanding man who called out wore a samurai's kimono with blade-sharp lips and prominent cheekbones.

"Father," Tahomaru bowed respectfully, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, "just don't treat me like a child."

"We move now, Tahomaru, while the fog is still thin." Daigo Kagemitsu turned to leave, but paused when Tahomaru didn't follow. The younger man stood without a move, staring back into the fog-choked path he'd emerged from.

"Something there?"

"Nothing, Father." Tahomaru's hand drifted into the fog, fingers curling as if to grasp something only he could see. "Just thinking… thanks to this fog…"