V S M The Udon Incident

Miyamoto Musashi

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This wasn’t her sword. Based on the very little interaction she’d had with it so far, she could already tell. The way it rattled in her hand from the slightest of shakes, there was no mistaking just how worn it was throughout.

Yet, she didn’t have the luxury of time for an inspection, not with what was facing her. Already, Mouthless had begun to creep toward her, in a slow circling pattern. A clever ploy in its own right, forcing her to back toward the door.

Honestly, the ronin hated the idea of placing her life upon the blade’s edge of an inferior weapon. Yet, she had little choice, for this time she needed the sword’s reach to emerge victorious.

Giving the sword another shake, it rattled and reverberated in her hand. Shinmen Musashi worked with what little she had felt through her hands. The sword didn’t feel broken. The blade seemed not to hide any fractures.

It was merely worn. As such, should she strike with it, the blade would likely hold together. However, the true risk laid in the fact that it would likely skew her cut. And an unclean cut could very easily lead to her end then and there.

His movements forced the ronin to slowly start backing, slowly shuffling in a counter-circular motion. She wanted a view on both doors and the man himself, even if that meant that she was slowly backing herself into the corner of that small kitchen-space.

And he knew that. She could see it in Mouthless’ eyes.

He knew just where she was being driven, and how little she could do about it, given her situation. He had banked on her not knowing this complex well enough, to know whether she could safely back into the hallway. Whether she could have anything except a wall at her back safely?

She couldn’t.

Shinmen Musashi’s left hand was slowly placed upon the tsuka of her still intact wakizashi, drawing it forward and bringing it before her. Creeping toward her doom, the corner fast approached despite her snail’s pace. An impending doom, if there ever was one.

Mouthless’ stance was high and wide, sword held in both hands at the side of his head. The room was just high enough to allow him such an approach. The stance was a defensive one, designed to react when the cornered animal finally lashed out.

Worst of all? This time she knew that she couldn’t spare the concentration to run through the scenarios in her mind. She knew that that in itself would be an opening enough for this creature of a man to exploit.

Shifting her own stance, Shinmen Musashi brought her swords from the forward extended position before her, closer to home. The wakizashi remained in front, just closer this time. In comparison, the katana was held similarly to Mouthless’, beside her right ear, pointing upwards.

The ronin could feel the wall behind her back and at her left side sending their regards as her motion ground to a halt. She had nowhere left to run.

Yet, Mouthless had no such concerns. He could continue his approach freely - without fear of an enemy emerging from his rear. Without any concern about allies or enemies. Just the girl in front of him. He could - and subsequently, would - position himself in a manner, that she truly had nowhere to go but through him.

The stitches binding his mouth slowly stretching as the corners of his lips quirked upwards in a crooked smile. The threads pulling upon his flesh as the wounds tore open. Not enough to free his mouth. But enough for fresh, festering blood to start trickling down along his chin.

Mouthless knew that his prey was cornered.
 
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Miyamoto Musashi

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Mouthless’ defensive stance. Shinmen Musashi’s offensive stance.
His utterly free nature. Her cornered state.

They were two sides of the same coin that was waiting to be flipped. The result simply waiting to be found out, craving for the coin toss to be made. For the future to settle down with one of the swordsmen cutdown mercilessly.

Jerking forward, Shinmen Musashi ended their stalemate. A slight forward movement with her blades shooting forward. In that instant, the counter attack was made. Mouthless’ blade cutting down through the air, ending the ronin’s life as her shoulder and neck were cut into. She had little chance of survival from such a strike as the steel severed her soul from her mortal coil.

A feint. A movement with the intention to act behind it, yet cut short. Ceased before true commitment to the action, to bait out a reaction. And now, the opponent’s blade slashed right before her eyes, cutting down the swordsman that wasn’t there. The attack left Mouthless’ blade pointing to the ground even as the ronin stepped around it, moving the wakizashi to guard her side. Essentially, his blade had no route to find purchase on her now.

All the whilst her own katana cut down mercilessly, rattling through the air as the blade misaligned itself against its master’s will. Rather than cutting the threads sealing his mouth, the point of the blade - kissaki - ripped through his lower lip, mutilating his face in the process. Or, further mutilating, really.

Even as her cut rended Mouthless, his sword at the ronin’s side shot up, attempting to cut her down with a last ditch effort of ending their duel then and there. Of course, given the previous movement of her shortsword into a position to catch the incoming strike, he indeed found no purchase. Instead the blade was misdirected to clash into the guard of Shinmen Musashi’s wakizashi, as it slid up along the steel blade.

Held there, it was for now harmless, even considering the lack of precision in her own strike. With haste, Shinmen Musashi brought back her blade before mercilessly stabbing forward. The blade struck forward as lightning, the loose rattling as thunder in its wake, her aim true.

The strings that held his loosely hanging lower lip in place were cut, sending the piece of flesh into a long spiraling fall toward the floor. Beyond the strings, his teeth attempted to resist the sharpened steel, only to shatter helplessly as the sword struck through and sank through the back of his neck.

Both of the ronin’s blades were held in position, muscles tensed as both of them remained deathly still. It was only once the pressure against her wakizashi released, that the swordsman’s muscles relaxed and she pulled back her sword. As the blade pulled back from the man, he was released from her binding, collapsing like a stringless puppet.

In honesty, the fact that Shinmen Musashi still stood there had been as much luck as it had been her skill. He had read into her desperation too much. Placed his bets upon her despair. And as such, he had lost the bet. Fallen over in death, as she prevailed in life.

Her wakizashi was sheathed with precision as the ronin began to move through the room, prideful in her stride. Without prior warning a flash of pain seared its way through her leg and spread into the rest of her body. Muscles frozen from the sudden agony the swordsman crashed forward as her legs refused to carry her weight any longer. Without grace, the duelist tumbled onto the ground as the blade escaped her grasp, clattering onto the ground loudly.

A feint relied on the opponent seeing only what they expected to see. Relied on the user’s intent to feel true enough to the victim, to trick their eyes. Because of that, Mouthless had seen what she’d wanted him to see. Her small motion had turned into a full blown attack in his eyes, his strike cutting the illusion down.

But it was only now that Shinmen Musashi came to realize, as she slowly reached for the bottom of her shoe whilst writhing on the floor in agony. A feint could also be applied against those whose concentration was in too many places at once. Small concealed motions bypassing their eyes, hiding actions where there seemed to be none.

Her fingers closing around cold steel, tightening her grip around it mercilessly. Her left hand slowly hooking her elbow around her knee to hold her leg in place so that she could remain curled up and cover up her mouth with that same hand. Regardless of how she was to do this, it would hurt.

“One...two...KYahHHHhhh!!!” A muffled shriek of pain escaped past her lips into her palm as the steel ripped free from her flesh. Breathing slowly as the swordsman’s eyes watered, she brought the metal she brought it before her eyes for inspection.

Aggressively blinking, Musashi worked to clear her eyes as her vision cleared. A caltrop, red with blood fresh from the bottom of her foot. If there was anything positive to be found out about it, at least it didn’t appear poisoned.

Of course, the poison would only pose an issue if there was any blood left in her body left to be poisoned. A glance - more sluggish than she would’ve liked to admit, was made toward her sole. She could’ve sworn her foot had by now built a crimson waterfall, with a lake beneath it onto the floor. Even though she knew that the wound shouldn’t have bled that much.

The ronin shook her head as the waterfall disappeared, and a much more lifelike appearance of dribbling blood slowly staining the ground appeared.

“Shit. The bleeding is...bad,” she thought to herself as she rolled onto her back, raising her bleeding leg as far toward the roof as straight as she could. Fire. She needed fire. Musashi’s eyes began to wander around the kitchen haphazardly, the laser-focus she’d had waning as fast as her blood did. Finally, her eyes landed on the fireplace that still had a fire going, as well as the kettle of rice she’d smelled earlier, moved off of the flame.

“Fire. I need fire,” the waning ronin reminded herself even as she hastily lowered her leg and rose onto all fours. The fireplace was placed across from the door she’d first arrived from, against the wall. There was a table too, right across it, which was clearly used both for preparing as well as eating the food.

“Fire,” she slapped herself across the cheek. Her consciousness hung on a razor’s edge as she quickly yanked out her broken sword and cast the blade into the coals of the fire, leaving it there. Even as she did so, she undid her obi, tearing it haphazardly off of her waist, even as the other end was stuffed into her mouth as far as it would go.

Swaying in place, she could feel the world shifting. The fireplace was now next to her head. The handle of her sword, right before her eyes. Huh. It seemed she had crashed. The sword wasn’t really supposed to be there. The ground wasn’t supposed to be this close either.

“Huh.” It dawned upon her, that she didn’t have all that much time left. It really didn’t take much bleeding to incapacitate someone as malnourished as she was. She would die then and there, from as little a mistake as stepping on a caltrop. And she wouldn’t even get to appreciate the lesson she’d learned from the man.

SLAP!

The slap echoed across the room as the girl forced more pain upon herself. The self-inflicted wake-up call dragging herself back into what could hardly be called clarity anymore. The world swayed as the colours bled from her eyes, her hands shaking near uncontrollably.

“Cauterize,” she reached for the blade and pulled it from the fire, glowing red hot and painful, “Burn it. And burn it quick,” her mouth full of cloth that she didn’t even register anymore. The ronin bent her leg as the glowing sword was brought beneath it, and pushed the two tog—“GRRRRRRRRRHHHHIIIIIIIIIII!!!!”

The sound of sizzling flesh was buried beneath Musashi’s muffled scream of agony as the sword seared the sole of her foot. Her mind blanked, muscles locking in shock from the pure, infernal pain. Tears streaming down her cheeks were happily drunk by the dry soil beneath, even as her eyes saw nothing. Red, that turned to white, that turned to red, that turned to black as the ronin’s chest heaved erratically, her jaws locked tightly into the fabric.

Even with all her experience with the sword, she could not fight the darkness that came to claim her. She could not cut down the all encompassing void that reached for her consciousness mercilessly.

In honesty? The self-tortured swordsman failed to even notice it anymore.
 
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Miyamoto Musashi

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Cold. It was so cold. Musashi could feel her body shivering from the freezing wind in the darkness, even as she couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or closed. What she couldn’t feel, were her hands and feet. They were simply not there as she huddled closer to herself, seeking non-existent warmth from her own body.

Wet. It was so wet. She could feel herself swimming, her skin drenched in liquid as she continued to shudder and convulse. The cold dark embraced her, hugging her drenched body with its cold tendrils as it slithered around her.

She was dying, wasn’t she?

Kicking the bucket in such a miserable manner, without ever getting to show up that shitty old fart Munisai? Having lasted the winter in a self-built hovel in that crummy old crow’s backyard, only to die here? Wherever here was.

What a pathetic way to go, really. Honestly, if there’d been a way to go she’d have preferred, this wasn’t one of them. There was too much left to achieve, too much to prove. Too much udon left un-eaten in the world.

Curled up and shivering in the freezing cold, Miyamoto Musashi knew one thing. She refused to die here. She refused to die without meaning.

She refused to die over a mistake.

Funnily enough, she’d seen plenty of people die like this in her life. Stronger, weaker, it didn’t matter. If your life decided to end out of bad luck, there was little you could do about it. But she was alive.

Or as alive, as a corpse could be. Hanging by a thread, she supposed. Slowly the past flashed before her eyes, the mouthless bandit and his cursed caltrop. The way she had emergency burned the sole of her foot to cauterize the wound left by it. The fact that she didn’t know whether it had worked.

Or well. She could. She wasn’t dead. She was only at death’s door, practically knocking relentlessly. Screaming for someone to come open the door. Yet the gates wouldn’t open. She was left outside, continuing to shudder in the freezing cold. As unaccepted in death, as she had always been in life.

The ronin’s body hadn’t bled dry, that much was clear. It was painfully obvious though, that she’d stepped close to that boundary, teetering her toes over the edge like a child toying with their first fire. And thinking about it, she hadn’t eaten properly in days now. She hadn’t drank properly in days now.

“Ah.” The malnourishment had teamed up with the bleeding to do her in. And now there was only this bitter, cold darkness. Forcing herself to focus, the girl desperately sought for an answer to survival. Something that would allow her to go on.

Suddenly, the fleeting image of the rice kettle set beside the fireplace flashed before her eyes. Cold. It would be cold by now, but there would be rice. Food. Energy. Life. Survival. If only she could manage to find it. To open her eyes. To take that first step toward getting out of here. That rice was her ticket to life.

Musashi needed only to find a way to grasp it. And for that Way, she would take any aid. She would sell herself to the bandits, she would discard her pride and humiliate herself. For her, that rice had an equal value to her life right now. But first, she would turn to the gods. One in particular that she paid homage to and devoutly believed in.

Steadying herself against the breezing cold as best she could, the swordsman stilled her heart and turned her mind toward the heavens. The shudders and and shivering stilled - if only slightly - as the injured ronin sought her long forgotten voice in the darkness. Demanding her lips to move and forcing the words out, despite her weakened voice.

“O’ Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenshin, divine figure of Kurikara, hear my call. I ask for your aid. Guard me as you have, all these years, give me the strength as you have, all these years. Guide my blade as you have, all these years.” she spoke, her voice nearly faltering at every turn, weak and rasping for air.

“Please...hear my plea. Raise my body as you have raised my blade. Bring me freedom, as you ha..hhh...” she pleaded until her voice cracked from strain and faded. With the fading of her voice, the relentless shuddering returned to claim hold of her body once more.

Ah. It seems I’m done for.” Miyamoto Musashi thought to herself as the darkness began to discolour, the pitch blacks claimed by gray, before bleeding into white. The sheer brightness of it subjugated her to close her eyes, while her breathing began to still.

Hack! Hack HACK!” the ronin coughed as her body spasmed and her muscles flared in pain thoroughly. The brightness faded, pushed back as her eyes began to see once more. The fireplace was still right before her, offering what little warmth it could. The ground was still there, where she laid.

“Th..nk...you...” the revived swordsman uttered her answer to the heavens in between her consistent hacking as her lungs threatened to leave her body. She was cold. Her body had a glistening sheen to it from the sweat that had gathered throughout her skin. Yet none of that mattered.

Her guardian deity had once more heard her pleas and answered her call. It was something she would have to compensate properly as soon as she was able. She owed the god her life, once more. She owed Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenshin, the divine figure of Kurikara, everything. Again.

Her body shuddering and shivering, the girl sought the answer to ensure her survival. Her eyes finally found it - that pot of now stone cold rice moved aside, atop the desk. Given how low the table was, she could reach it just from the floor. Yet her arm was heavy as lead as she laid on her side. But the answer was there. She needed only to reach for it.

Inch by inch Musashi forced her arm to rise, slowly creeping toward ensured survival, toward life. The power of her guardian deity still coursing in her veins, the utter refusal to die here granting her the strength to slowly reach the table. Her fingers sought purchase weakly around one of the handles of the pot. Her eyes slowly closed, before the impaired ronin allowed her arm to crash back down. Together with her limb came down the pot, shattering as it crashed onto the ground and sending dozens of clay shards across the floor.

Yet from within its confines, before her face was now a shockingly hefty pile of boiled, cold rice. The white pile of life before her, that she had no strength left to eat. The energy in her arms long gone from the exertion to reach the table. Forcing her muscles further, the exhausted girl struggled, trashing furiously to hold onto that tiny sliver of life she had left.

Slowly crashing to lay on her chest, her face buried itself in the rice-pile. The cold food felt freezing against her face as the white mass glued itself onto her face. Musashi was as close to her lease on this life as she could be.

It would do. This was life. This was survival. Face buried in what promised to be her future, she forced her jaw to move, even as it creaked open agonizingly slowly. Her tongue ashen and alien, she maneuvered it out and slowly scooped up the tiniest amount of rice, before it was brought back.

The mere thought of chewing exhausted Musashi. She would have to just swallow. Sealing her mouth with her tongue, the girl forced herself to swallow. Sending that tiny bit of new life trickling into her body. Yet, that little bit of rice wouldn’t ensure her life. Not alone, at least. She needed more, and so the swordsman’s stiff tongue pushed out, searching a new helping of survival to ingest.

The swordsman hadn’t a sliver of pride left, laying face down in rice as she desperately tongued the ground-touched pile for what little scraps she could ingest. Begging that with enough humiliation, she would have enough energy to go on.

She would survive, no matter what.
 
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Miyamoto Musashi

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Face buried in the dirt, the ronin groaned. By now she had become acutely aware of just how many places there were on her body, that hadn’t hurt as badly before. Simultaneously, she was vaguely aware of how she’d been flitting in and out of consciousness for whoever knows how long.

Her consciousness had been flitting from anywhere between consciousness and wild, vivid hallucinations with little control. Based on how sandy her mouth tasted, she’d managed to consume the rice that had once been there. All in all, if there was one thing Miyamoto Musashi took joy in, despite the endless ache, was that she was very evidently alive.

And this time, she even felt like her limbs could move, if she pushed them to. And push she did. Through great effort and strain the wounded girl slowly rolled from her face to her side, before finally crashing onto her back, panting softly as her chest heaved.

Hell, if she ever had to tell the tale of how she’d almost been done in by a single god damn caltrop, she’d probably do herself in. Honestly, it still could. She was far from the clear here. Among the many issues she faced, was the fact that this was still a bandit hideout. She still had no way of knowing how many there remained, if any.

And if there remained brigands here? Musashi was as good as captured or killed. She was in no state to fight as it was. Honestly, she was scarily certain that her recently grilled foot would not hold her weight. More than that, she slowly came to the realization that she was sweating as much as she was, because of fever.

Infection, or poison. Either way, both could easily do her in, right here. And if they didn’t? She could pass out in the forest. She could lose her balance and tumble down the mountain. It was more than possible still to get lost, end up as bear food, yokai food, or just flat out run into more bandits and die miserably.

All in all, the ronin’s prospects of survival were miserably dim, despite the fact that she’d manage to consume some rice and dangle onto the thin string that still kept her bound to this mortal coil. The reality of it was that there were plenty of knives, spears, swords, claws and axes out there to still cut her from it, in her current state.

Hell, a stiff breeze would probably just blow her off of said string as she was right now. So this had been why they’d chosen to send a ronin, rather than Shinsengumi troops or Samurai. Because she, unlike them, was expendable. More than expendable. The preferable result would be that she cut the bandits down, but died in doing so.

And so far? That damn scenario of theirs was playing out just as desired. God damnit.

But, on another hand, that was just the kind of thing Musashi needed to fuel her spite - to force herself into action. Her arms exerting force to slowly begin pushing herself up and support herself against that table. Only for the steam to blow out as she panted heavily, her muscles giving up as she simply slouched against the table, limbs limp and chest heaving.

Hhhhkkhh…!” Judging from the sheer exhaustion of such little movement alone, her fever ran high. Honestly, the ronin felt like she was both freezing and burning to death at the same time, yet she for now did her best to ignore it.

Her eyes moving, she eyed around the room. Next to the fireplace in front of her, was one shelf and three barrels. The shelves were lined with pots and dishes similar to the one she’d just shattered...who knows how long ago. The barrels, if she had to guess, would contain rice and clean water. The latter both for boiling the rice, and for drinking.

Her chest still heaving, the exhausted ronin settled upon her next task. More food. She would need to boil more rice, to drink more water. To gain more energy after her starvation. While she had had enough rice to regain some functionality, it was hardly equal to the multiple meals she had missed before it.

But she’d do that...next.. Right after she’d regain some of her energy, to have some to exert again. In...just a moment… Exhaling deeply, Musashi’s eyes slid closed as her head slouched forward, chin against her chest. This was enough.

For now.
 
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Miyamoto Musashi

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“Khuh!” the corpse jerked to life once more, her entire body convulsing as her eyes opened. Fire. She needed the fire. The food would fire. The wood. Food. Good.

“uuuhhh…”

Her eyes darting around frantically the flaccid ronin found what looked to be food, no, wood. Wood. Looked to be wood. Fire the food. For wood.

Firewood. For food. Yes. That. That!

Desperately latching onto that thought, the swordsman sought to chart a journey through these perilous lands. Right there, right of the fireplace, left of it barrels of food, right of it piles of wood. Good good.

Looking around, there was no dude. That was good. Wire food. Good. Woooood.

Collapsing forward onto the ground, the girl whose mental synapses were utterly intact desperately flopped forward. Sadly, her expertise in aquatic motions was low, thus her progress was slow. But luckily, the thousand kilometers that she journeyed from the desk to the woodpile slid past with haste.

Wood! Good.

A stupid grin spread across her glistening face, as rivulets of sweat ran down across her forehead. Wood! Wood meant food, that was good.

“Khuuuhh…” she exhaled as she slowly cast the piece of wood into the fire, a puff of ash spreading into the air. At least there was still a fire going, even if it was starting to wane.

One log. Two log.

Cog? No, no cog. Just log. To the fire. Many log. At least five log.

Five log was good. Five wood equaled good. Five log and she would have food.

“Hehee~!” she giggled as she wormed her way back to where she’d originally started. Whilst the journey was a painful one, with both directions a clear, steep uphill, she finally arrived at her home base at the foot of the table leg. From there, another expedition was in order.

She needed a pot. Pot pot. Clot? No, clot rice no good. Just pot rice. The shelves luckily were full of pots, if only she could make the expedition.

And so, the swordsman gathered her belongings, preparing for a journey of unprecedented challenges and length. This quest, paramount to her survival, would determine whether she would survive the decades to come, if she first survived the long and arduous journey there and back.

It meant food. Good!
And so, the aquatic ronin set off, flopping forward with newly found expertise from her previous journey. The months of travel passing by as she finally reached the kitchen-shelf mountains. From here, she could claim one of the long coveted mythical pots of these mountains.

Highest quality clay, inscribed each with legendary rice cooking runes. Pots fit for a shogun were fit for her. And so, she claimed her reward from the lowest shelf. A medium sized pot with ears to hang it from. Yet, the kitchen-shelf mountains were only the first stage of her mythical hero quest, in the hero plains.


The double barrel valley resided to the west of the kitchen-shelf mountains, another difficult journey. Yet, Shinmen Musashi was determined to emerge as the hero of rice. And so, she set to flopping the five hundred kilometer journey before her. During her journey across, her clothes tore and skin scratched, but it was a necessary sacrifice. She had prepared for this.

But even as she reached the double barrel valley, the true challenge stood paramountly above her. To complete the hero quest, one needed to first transcend the barrels, reaching a higher understanding of the universe than these legendary barrels once had. Only then, would the would-be hero be granted their boons of water and rice.

Both ingredients required for food.

Good. Good!

The fallen swordsman began to ascend the wooden valley through many a hardship. Her nails bled as she clawed her way upwards, seeking to transcend the limits of her weary body and ascend above double barrel valley. And through years of effort, broken nails and more cuts than she could count, Musashi found success.

Up here though, the air was horribly thin. Her chest heaved as her lungs begged for air, the pot of legends she’d brought with her, sank into the water barrel, before her face nearly dove after it. With great effort, the pot was recovered, now full of water.

Too full. But, the ingenious girl had an answer. Her lips. She could wink. Link? Drink. Drink! That. That! Her mind lurched onto the word, pinning it before it could escape once more. Musashi could drink the water. Drain the excess within her. The healing waters of the double barrel valley most certainly would help in building her strength.

And so, Musashi’s face sank into the pot with a helpless splash, even as she began to suck. Gulp after gulp she emptied the pot, even as her insides began to freeze over. Up here, it was cold and the air was thin. Maybe she would freeze to death up here. But first, she dug into the rice enclosure.

Palm after palm of lice...dice? Rice was sunk into the healing waters of the double barrel valley. So much so that the clear waters had turned utterly white, the snow-white food congealing the liquids. She still had to leave the valley though. And she didn’t feel too good.

The aspiring hero would have to cast the now assembled legendary pot of rice atop the fires of the fireplace. Otherwise, it would not become food. Yet, she knew her transcended state wouldn’t last as she fumbled forwards. Flying towards the inferno as she safeguarded her legendary artifact from harm, she skidded to a halt.

Food. Good. Quick glance around? Still no dude. Also good.

For some reason, the journey of these thousands of kilometers had felt little more than a few meters. But it only served to prove how much good her preparation and merciless training for this quest had done. How much she had grown over her years. And so the culinarian began the most difficult of all the tasks expected, from a hero of the Kitchen prefecture.

Setting the pot atop the raging inferno below. It consisted of removing a rod - which Musashi for some reason now held in her hands - from two hangers. Afterward, the hero was required to cast a joint enhancement upon it and their pot. A spell only available to the most mighty of culinarians. Yet she had succeeded, the rod piercing the hanging ears of her pot.

Proud of her achievements, only the final step remained. Returning the rod upon the hanging hooks, casting the pot above the fires. With care, the ronin’s shaky hands advanced, slowly lifting the rod into each of the hooks intended for it, hanging the pot as the quest demanded.

Wood. Good. Fire. Good. Food. Good.

Many...good.

“Kuu..uuhh...” watching the pot before her eyes, the light in her eyes faded as Musashi crashed, the ground fast approaching once more. With a tumbling series of thuds, her transcendence had come to an abrupt halt, stolen from her. With her powers of a culinary hero stolen from her, the girl was once more capable of little more than simply laying there.

It was cold and everywhere still hurt.
 

Miyamoto Musashi

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“Ow, ow. Owww…” the swordsman groaned as her eyes flickered open with great effort. For the next few moments, she tried to figure out exactly what position she was in, as her limbs refused to heed her call. Her legs were seemingly crossed, at the very least. Hm. And she was at the very least laying ontop of one of her arms.

With those findings, her brain finally registered that Musashi’s left shoulder hurt like hell. She had little memory of the past few hours - or days. And that included the fact that she couldn’t remember how she was here, laying under the table, in the first place.

Rolling slightly to her right side, the swordsman first freed her arm from its trapped confines underneath herself and brought it forward. Rolling her shoulder slowly, she made the judgement that it wasn’t broken at least, just sore. Afterward, she uncrossed her tangled up legs, a tingling sensation quickly spreading across nearly all of her body as blood flowed once more.

“Ts..ts..tss..” the wounded ronin tutted in pain. First her foot and now her arm too? Was this misfortune and misery never ending? Slowly, she set a hand upon her forehead, feeling for warmth. The fever she barely recalled seemed to have gone down, if she’d ever had one to begin with? Uncertainty welled within her as she slowly sat up under the wooden furniture, her head nearly banging into the underside of the surface. But at least it was one extra pain avoided.

Looking down, the chest of her clothing was completely torn, her bare skin completely scuffed and raw. What the hell had happened here? In reality, she could barely remember a thing. She had no idea how much time had passed either. Well, other than the fact that the fireplace provided no light anymore. So it’d been a fair few hours, at least.

On closer inspection, she found that even the faintest embers of the fire had gone out long ago as she sat in the near darkness. Actually, what even gave light anymore? Confused, the aching ronin inched forward, holding back groans of pain with each movement before she finally emerged from underneath. Determined, she slowly lifted an arm to support herself atop the table, as another pulled the chair beside her.

Pushing upward with her legs, Musashi was clumsily clambering onto the furniture, before slouching back as she allowed the tension to escape her body.

“Kaahh….” she exhaled deeply, before blinking a few times. Right. The light.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings, finding that into a hollowed out section of the wall there was installed an oil lamp that rested on an absolutely massive container, likely full of oil. Judging from its size, that container held enough oil to keep the lamp going for weeks at a time after refill.

So, she had that to thank for her luck of not being in utter darkness now. But with that, came the realization. No one had still found her here, meaning that she was alone. No bandits roamed the encampment anymore. And given this was the kitchen, someone would’ve by now found her here, as she was flitting between various states of consciousness and lack-there-of.

“...eeeeeeelp!”

Hm? The ronin snapped back to reality as she could’ve sworn she heard something echoing in the room, besides her own thoughts.

“......HEEEEEEEEELP” sounded once more, this time ascertaining that Musashi was indeed not hearing things. A hoarse voice from somewhere nearby, calling for aid. Unlikely to be a bandit, more likely to be a prisoner of some kind. Slowly, Musashi’s head turned toward the hallway Mouthless had emerged from, originally.

Seemed to have come from there. It wouldn’t have come from the other hallway, there was only the lobby that way. Stepping up enthusiastically, the ronin nearly crashed right back onto the floor as her leg gave out the second she attempted to place weight upon it. Catching herself onto the table, she whimpered in pain.

It seemed her left foot was out of commission. As her first order of business, she claimed a thinly split log from the firewood pile. Afterward, the girl slowly inched her way around the table, on her way picking up the rattly sword she’d originally claimed from a corpse - and subsequently dropped onto the floor. Afterward, she lowered herself onto the floor and crawled over to the original owner of the sword. Claiming the saya from it, she slid the sword in.

“...heeeelp…”

It wouldn’t bear her weight without bending as just a sword, but it made for a makeshift cane while sheathed. And so, using the doorframe of the wall as a support, she crawled onto her feet once more. Log in one hard, makeshift cane in the other.

Musashi brought the log into the lantern’s flame and ignited the piece of wood, even if it took a bit of time. Afterward, she began to limp along the wall, eventually passing through the corner and after a small bit more, the hallway. It was dark, and thus the wood for an emergency torch had been the correct choice.

As such, she limped into the hallway, progressing slowly as she leaned heavily onto the wall in between steps. In a small distance, she could see a closed wooden door. Limp by limp, the ronin progressed, until she finally leaned onto the wall right in front of the door.

“Heeeelp!” much clearer now. Evident and obvious that whoever called, was somewhere behind the door. Given the obvious lack of a lock on the door, now that she could actually see the wooden space-separator Musashi reached forward with her hand. Her fingers grasped the handle as she pulled, and the door began to slide open.

“H-HYAAAAA!” a bloodcurdling scream emerged from somewhere in the darkness as Miyamoto Musashi stood there. All she had done was open the door. Chest heaving in torchlight as she leaned heavily onto the wall. “P-please don’t kill me!” the screecher frantically pleaded. Terrified. They were evidently terrified. But why?

Frankly, the swordsman was still fugued enough that she simply stood there, dumbfoundedly facing the darkness that spoke to her. She hadn’t quite grasped that she was the reason this...woman, was so scared. She was here to free her, wasn’t she?

“Mhh...My name is Musashi,” she began convincingly as she stepped forward into the darkness, the torchlight now revealing a bamboo cage set in the room. “Uhh...Ssent here. By the Shinnn...sengumi....of Shimosa,” the ronin continued as she allowed the torch to fall onto the ground beside her. Slowly balancing herself atop her one good leg as she unceremoniously unsheathed the rattly blade.

“To slay bandits and to...save slaves,” she finished, her sentences holding at least a semblance of coherence. Honestly, she felt quite woozy. But even then, she had a job to do. And so, she swung the blade twice as her lips continued to move. “Bandits slain...slaves...saved?” she muttered, her voice suddenly about as strong as her legs as the ground began its advance on her.

Hey wait! She was supposed to be standing though?! This wasn’t what was supposed to happen! Why was the ground coming for her?! Not again! Not fair! NOT! FAIR!

“Owie?” she asked expectantly as she saw the dirt right before her eyes, again. This time, it looked no more comfortable than it had been the previous few times.

THUMP.

And it was there that her film cut.

Thud.

Again.
 

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Being unconscious was starting to be a real chore. Staring down at her unconscious body the swordsman sighed. This is why one should never have left to battle on an empty stomach.

Yet what is a sellsword to do, when their coin purse is as empty as their stomach? Not sell their sword and starve further? Honestly, Musashi hadn’t an option and as such she had doomed herself through lack of options. Of course, she’d also underestimated the bandits herself. The girl had most certainly not expected them to have sourced both poisons, and an actual somewhat capable swordsman of their own.

The poisons she didn’t particularly care for, they were boring. But the swordsman? That’d at least proven to be a fun fight. While the ghostly swordsman hovered above her unconscious body, she shook her head once more. Really, the caltrop had done her in far too badly for how little an injury it was.

“...rd,” ah, right. The former slave. Musashi had at least succeeded in something, freeing them from their bamboo cage. Though right after scaring the poor sod to death, she’d escaped from her body to hover around the room in helplessness.

“...ord!” Honestly, she wasn’t particularly sure why she was floating about in this manner. Had she finally kicked the bucket now? Was such the case? A near nameless female swordsman, utterly doomer by a sharp wedge of metal?

“...Lord!” Floating about, the swordwraith pondered. The previous times, she hadn’t had such an oversight over her own unconsciousness. Crossing her arms, the uncorporeal girl wafted around the room before finally seating herself atop the table.

It made very little sense, for one. And for two? It was just quite hard to accept. Sinking deeper into her thoughts and the table, she rubbed her chin quizzically.

SLAP!

Reeling, the poor ghost flew through and out of the table as she skidded into an aerial halt. Confusingly enough, beings like herself still felt plenty of pain.

“MY LORD?!” called the woman once more.

It was with that combination of further physical abuse and yelling at her, that the wraith found her situation suddenly changing. Suddenly finding herself being vacuumed through the air, the girl hurtled uncontrollably as she slammed into her corporeal body, the two snapping together as one.

SLAP!

“Hck! HACK!”
Relentlessly coughing the swordsman jerked to life, even as her coughing fit seemed to offer no respite. “KCH! ACKH!” Her abs convulsing as the girl pulled herself involuntarily into a seated position, as her seizure-like coughs began to finally die down.

“Khhhh,” she settled for simply being able to breathe again, one deep breath after another as the ronin practically gasped for air. Whether what she’d just watched was just one weird hallucinatory dream, or her actually dancing closer to death’s edge than before, she had no way to know.

And honestly? She didn’t want to know.

As such, she simply discarded such thoughts from her head. The first thought that occurred to her, however, was that they were indeed back in the kitchen, as she’d just dreamt. And as she very well knew, her consciousness had escaped her in the slave cells, not the kitchen. So she had at least been moved, by the freed slave.

Ah. Right. The other woman. “Thhk..” Musashi began - or at least valiantly attempted - her lips as dry as her vocal cords, offering little more than helpless hissing sounds.

“Ah, my lord. Water!” exclaimed the woman beside her, judgingly a bit older than herself, even as a cup was brought to her lips and tilted. Having to do nothing but swallow it, worked well enough. Holding back the coughing fit that attempted to emerge, the swordsman simply swallowed the liquid in the small sips she was given.

Quite skillful in patient handling, this one was. “Thank you,” the swordsman finally managed as the cup finally displayed it’s bottom. “There’s uh...rice in the pot,” she started, glancing toward the fireplace that had a fire to it once more. The pot was where she’d left it.

“Thank you Lord, forgive my insolence, I helped myself to it whilst I was tending to yourself. They had left me unfed for… well, ever since I heard sounds of conflict from here.” the woman explained as she pushed the swordsman back down from her shoulders.

“Rest,” the mature woman commanded as she stood and made her way to the fireplace. “I shall feed you in a moment, with fresh rice. You seemed not to be bleeding acutely, but your dehydration and malnourishment are quite severe.”

Ah. It was true, yes. Musashi could smell the boiling rice in the air, now that her mind was less preoccupied with everything, even as she stayed laid down. The other thing her attention was brought to, was the softness of the earth.

“I brought us bedrolls from their sleeping quarters,” the woman explained. “They’re not luxurious, but they’re better than sleeping on the ground. They’ll also keep you warm and help with your fever.”

Quite...motherly. Musashi exhaled quietly as tensions slowly escaped her body. She could do with being doted on. She’d enjoy it, quite frankly. And by such a pretty onee-san too? It was most certainly at least a little lucky.

The swordsman made a note to bring more than just a small offering for Tenman Dai-Jizai Tenshin, the next chance she had. For now, she opted to simply utter her thanks silently in her mind. They would reach the god, of that she was certain.

“My name is Hibiki, my Lord. My family and I run an apothecary in Shimosa,” the woman introduced herself even as she made herself busy with the rice pot. “If I may ask, Lord Samurai, why are you here all alone?” the cook inquired even as scooped rice from the cooking pot into a small bowl. “Should they not have at least given you a pair for your mission?” she finished as she lifted the small bowl and began to walk.

Closing her eyes for a moment, the ronin wondered. She could easily lie and stay in this woman’s good graces. “I’m no Samurai, miss Hibiki,” Musashi began quietly, having decided against the lie. Be it because of the fever burning her forehead once more, or the fact that for now she felt cared for, the truth slipped easily from her lips.

“I am a ronin, hired by the Shinsengumi of Shimosa, as a sellsword to take care of the bandits,” she finished, even as the woman continued her approach.

“Your status means little to me. It was your sword that cut me out of that cage and your life that was risked to save mine,” slowly the woman settled into a seiza beside the feverish ronin, setting aside the bowl. “I will do my best to see to it that your sword can see me back home. You are my only hope of seeing my family once more,” explained the woman.

Lifted by her shoulders, Musashi was propped up against the woman’s thighs. Had she always been this light? This frail and liftable by others, tossable like a beggar’s tiny sack of rice? She couldn’t tell.

And she did not want to think about it.

Snapped out of her thoughts that seemed to wander uncharacteristically much today, Musashi tuned into the words of her saviour. “I shall feed you now, then you shall rest. As the healer here, you shall listen and obey me. Your status does not matter to me.”

The ronin opened her mouth to respond, only for a helping of rice to be shoved in before she had the chance to produce even the slightest of peeps. The spoon leaving her mouth, she was left to her devices to chew, swallow, and open her mouth again.

“Thank you, Hibiki,” she managed, before the utensil dove into her guts once more and left behind it more hot, delicious rice from the bowl of a pretty girl, rather than from the floor in desperation.

Exhaling quietly as she swallowed her second helpful, the ronin opened her mouth once more. Being cared for, by a strict big sister who fed her, and tended to her survival? She could get used to this, as her muscles unwound again and she slowly sank into the comfortable routine of being fed and laid back to bed.

It might have been one of the shittiest weeks of her life so far, but now?

The moment now was warm, watered and nourished. Her eyes slipping closed, the exhausted swordsman allowed sleep to come and lull her into further contentedness.

In Musashi’s books? Now was quite alright.
 
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Miyamoto Musashi

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DIARY OF HIBIKI THE APOTHECARY

DAY ONE
General notes:
The patient cannot be said to be properly conscious. Most of her time is spent seemingly vivid hallucinations and dream-like fugue. She is both malnourished and dehydrated, as well as wounded.​
I will search for supplies as best I can from the hideout today.​
I cleaned the corpses from our vicinity to an unused part of the compound.​
I have fed the patient rice and water as best as I can. I will continue tending to her to the best of my ability.​

Observations:
She has a major wound at the bottom of her right sole, which is seemingly hastily cauterized. I believe this to be a rush job, done in death’s throes as a last attempt of survival.​
It is clearly infected, as the burned blisters spew forth hideous pus.​
I would say these are the cause of her fever, and what will claim her life, if untreated.​
As a student of medicine, I will do my best to aid her.​
The patient is also very scratched, from what I assume to be the ground. She has no broken bones, but her skin is broken in many places, presumably from multiple falls. The continuous scratch marks and scuffed clothes would indicate crawling.​
DAY TWO
General notes:
The patient has gotten worse from yesterday. I must operate on her today, if I am to save her.​
I continue to feed and drink her. She is incapable of coherent thought.​
I have managed to gather what little supplies I could. This includes the supply of medicinal herbs that the ruffians imprisoning me had.​
Luckily, they had some sleep inducing plants.​
There’re herbs to both relieve pain, as well as to heal one’s body and soul. They’re not the freshest, but they will have to do.​
Observations:
No changes from yesterday in the patient’s injuries.​


Operation notes:
I started by putting the patient to sleep through a concoction of herbs. In addition, I brewed some medicinal paste that should help her skin both heal and prevent re-infection.​
I began by inspecting the original puncture wound, which had burned itself shut.​
I am lucky to be operating today, her flesh seems to be rotting. As such, I had to cut open the wound, bleeding rotten, black blood from the girl and cutting off the flesh. With the patient ridded of her bad blood and flesh alike, I cleaned the wound and applied the protective medicinal paste.​
I then took care of popping each of the pus-filled blisters with a new knife, working the pus out blister by blister. After draining, I cleaned them individually.​
Once the similarly infected blisters had been cleaned, I applied the paste once more.​
Afterward, I cleaned each former blister individually, before applying the medicinal paste and tying her foot in a cloth wrapping to protect it.​
I will have to clean and re-apply the paste tomorrow.​
In addition, I tended to the rest of her scuffs and bangs, cleaning them as best I could.​
DAY THREE
General notes:
I continue to feed the patient. Our diet here consists of only rice and water.​
I now keep her in a medical induced sleep, aside from food and drink. It is better for her healing.​
I again cleaned the patient’s wounds, re-applied the medicinal paste and re-dressed the injury.​
Observations:
Her flesh has not begun to rot again, this is good.​
Judging by the smell, the blisters are not producing pus again.​
Her fever remains high.​


DAY FOUR
General notes:
No changes to procedures from yesterday.​
Patient continues to be delirious during meal times. As such, it is easier to continue the herb-induced sleep.​
Observations:
The injury shows signs of healing but the patient’s fever remains high.​

DAY FIVE
General notes:
Patient demanded for udon during meal time. That’s a good sign. We will continue with rice and water.​
I believe the patient is out of immediate danger to her life.​
However, I see it best to keep her sleeping for most of the time, for a few more days.​
I will continue to observe the situation and its development.​

Observations:
Patient’s fever seems to be going down. This is good.​
It must be due to the patient’s extraordinary body condition, the injury is healing faster than expected.​


DAY SIX
General notes:
I did the basic procedures expected. Cleaning and re-dressing her wound.

I kept the patient awake today to try and learn some more of her.​
Her name is Miyamoto Musashi. She is a ronin, her sword currently sold to the Shinsengumi of Shimosa. The injury was caused by a caltrop trap laid by one of the bandits. She had tried to cauterize it as best she could.​
However, the patient was extremely malnourished and dehydrated at the time. So losing blood was beyond her capability at the time.​
We are apparently in the Shiraishi mountains, but she does not know how far away from Shimosa we are. She arrived closer to this place unconscious and as such does not know the exact distance.​
I have been making sure she gets properly fed and hydrated each day, so that should be passing. It could also explain her extraordinary healing capabilities, now that her body is energized once more.​
Observations:
The patient is in good shape, but I can however detect some slight muscle atrophy. This must be because she has not been fed properly before this, in combination with her injury and inactivity.​
As she clearly has trained most of her life, such results are expectable.​


DAY SEVEN
General notes:
I did the common procedures on her wound.​
The patient no longer has a fever.​
I have however kept her asleep for today. Tomorrow, I shall no longer sedate her for her own good.​
The wound has healed sufficiently, that I can allow her to once more get on her feet. However, I am prohibiting extensive travel for now, until I believe the wound has healed sufficiently for a trek down the mountain.​

Observations:
I believe that she should soon be fit for travel and we can return to Shimosa.​
This ends my diary of daily observations and recording any changes in my patient, the ronin Miyamoto Musashi.
She whom freed me from slavery and saved my life. Thus through saving hers, I believe I have returned that favour in full.
-Hibiki Tachibana, the Apothecary.
 

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“I am going to need you to stay in bed for today, swordsman Musashi.” lectured Hibiki, a hint of strain evident in her voice as her lips thinned into a line. The scent of freshly cooked rice wafted in the air even as the ravenous swordsman fidgeted on the ground, seated atop her bedroll.

Hibiki scooped out rice from the pot into two smaller dishes. This particular hour of day had become...or rather, had been made into their lunch hour by Hibiki. Of course, Musashi hadn’t had much of a say in it, considering she’d been out of it for the past week.

But of course, now she was awake, and she had a say. Frankly, she had a lot to say, if only because she was quaking in her boots to get moving. Money, udon, booze, it all waited for her back in the city.

“Well, apothecary Bikki, I’m done dallying. I’ll let you keep me heeere, but I’m not staying in this bed for a second more,” demanded the swordsman. Although honestly, her own demands were undermined by the cruel fact that her voice trembled with excitement and energy.

Now of course, she appreciated the woman greatly for the obviously small and insignificant fact that she was here, sitting on a bedroll, breathing and alive. More than alive, really! The duelist felt like she could cut down two Kojiro’s right now, one with each of her blades! ...but she’d leave him alive, this time. Promise!

What a waste of a good swordsman, really. Well, you live ‘n you learn.

“My name is Hibiki,” the apothecary sighed. This had been going on for the past hour now. An endless back and forth between the demands of an apothecary who wanted the best for her still injured - although a confusingly quickly healing - patient, and the demands of a patient who would have none of it.

“Bikki. If you’d reeeally wanted me to sleep today, you’d have just sedated me!” the swordsman flashed a victorious grin, calling the other woman’s bluff as she moved in to corner the other in this vicious battle of doctor and patient.

Miyamoto Musashi had never lost a duel. And she didn’t intend to lose one to her apothecary either. Probably a questionable victory to chase, but the lighthearted swordsman cared not.

“Hibiki! My name. Is Hibiki. Apothecary Tachibana Hibiki!” flared the good doctor as the rice dishes found themselves abusively slammed onto the table. But, war demanded victims. The poor clayware and their abuse was a necessary sacrifice for victory.

“Bikki,” the swordsman affirmed, nodding with a grin still dancing across her visage. “I’m truly grateful for your aid. Buuut you either sedate me or let me live. I’m dyyying here y’know!” It wasn’t a lie. She was dying. Clearly, obviously. An acute case of utter boredom. An injury of utmost severity, for an enigma like Miyamoto Musashi.

“Urgh… Fine! But you are NOT to leave this room. You can either sit there, or sit at the table. No walking about. And you will call me Hibiki!” huffed the chef as she pushed one of the dishes across the table, the bowl set right before an empty chair.

“Knew I could count on you, Hi-bikki-chan,” noted the victorious duelist as she slowly clambered onto her feet. Rather than placing the weight onto her still injured sole, Musashi for a moment looked like she was about to propose as she set her good foot forward.

Pushing herself standing, the ronin made certain to not place weight upon the injury. Instead? Instead she opted to hop along. Arms outstretched slightly to both sides as her thigh muscles tensed and the Ronin hopped forward.

Hop. Once.

Hop. Twice.

Hop. Thrice.

Musashi’s lips curled with joy as she arrived no closer to the dining table. Instead, the girl had opted to bounce in a small, contained circle. Each time she hopped, her foot landing sharper and sharper to a print she’d already previously left behind. Not expanding the track in the slightest, merely deepening the imprint.

“Urghhh………. Would you just eat your rice already,” groaned the mother as her moron of a child played about. She’d forgotten how headstrong the devils could be. And just how much she had missed real conversations with friends, family and colleagues. Her shoulders ever tense as she sank the wooden spade into her rice and shoveled.

...And her children patients. Even if they were demanding little devils at times.

“Gotta work up an appetite first, Bikki!” the swordsman offered with a glorious smile as her words were given rhythm through her leg thumping into the ground unyieldingly with each hop.

“You’ll get fat if you don’t! - I mean I won’t.” Hop. Hop. Hop.

“You might.” Hop.

“See, I have one of those bodies who can eat whatever and it’ll never show! How great is that!?” Hop hop. Hop.

SLAM!

Poor table.

“That is NOT a thing!!!” erupted the volcano. “And it’s HI. BI. KI. Hibiki! Hibiki Hibiki Hibiki Hibiki hibikihibikihibikihibikiiiii...” And much like a suddenly bursting volcano, its flow of lava quickly dried up as the woman slumped onto the desk. Her head buried into her arms as the bowl of rice was pushed aside.

“Better now?” asked the rabbit as she finally settled into her seat, satisfied with the results. Musashi’s voice lacked the previous energy having settled into a calmer, more soothing tone. Shamelessly her hand reached across and settled atop the other’s head, gently caressing the other without remorse.

“You did well, Hibiki. You’re safe now, and you saved me while at it. A while more, and we’ll return to Shimosa together,” the strategist continued with a gentle smile reigning her visage. Her hand leaving to grasp a wooden spade of her own, she sank it into her rice expectantly.

“I’m dyyying for this rice, y’know. It’s no udon, but it’s the best rice I’ve ever had,” the swordsman gushed forth, the bravado in her voice announcing its presence with price once more. “In a bandit hideout, anyway!”

“Thank you, swordsman,” muttered the de-stressed doctor quietly. Slowly raising her head once more, reclaiming her rice. After all, how could they eat that glistening pearl white rice together, if she did not?

And as far as Musashi was concerned? She’d won the duel, she’d won the battle, she’d won the war. She’d won it all.

All in a day’s work!
 

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The sword rattled quietly as it slid before Musashi’s eyes. Her eyes carefully inspecting every last inch of the edge, the swordsman ascertained that whilst the rest of the weapon left a lot to be desired, the blade’s edge was ever sharp and lethal.

So, in other words, the previous owner had neglected the rest, and maintained the edge. A shame, but it was something she could correct later, with proper tools and materials. She was no swordsmith, but her life rested upon her blade. As such proper maintenance was most important of all.

Clank.

The sword lowered upon the table, Musashi lifted her eyes as she remained seated. Glancing toward the doorway, before her eyes scanned the rest of the room. Her eyes found no one as expected, the sleeping figure of Hibiki aside.

The good doctor deserved rest, especially given all she had done for Musashi. A day or two had passed uneventfully - after all, they’d no way to gauge the passage of time down here. Musashi was allowed on her feet by now, even if Bikki had denied her the pleasures of traveling back to Shimosa.

Even then, the swordsman would’ve preferred to service the sword laid before her. She’d set her life upon it twice now without much care for it. But the thought that danced in the shadowy edges of her mind and continually annoyed her, was placing the apothecary's life on such a flawed construct.

Even then, that arrogance had nearly cost her her life. A mistake that she would most certainly make again, after all, pride was something a swordsman required more than anything. Pride in their skills. Yet, it took true strength of will to protect that blade of pride from the rust of arrogance.

It was something Musashi had failed in doing before - and something she knew was still beyond her. Yet, failure was an essential step in learning. A slight grin dancing upon her visage, the girl knew she had taken another essential step on her path.

...clt..clatter…

...crrrreeeeakkkk….


“Hmh?” A glance was made to the table, where the sword now clattered on its own. And the table creaked.

And the chair.

And the shelves.

“...Fuck,” as the swordsman shot onto her feet, she grasped the blade hastily, sheathing it as it was left hanging from her obi. Wielding three swords, she quickly lunged over to the good doctor.

“Bikki, Bikki!” Musashi urged as her fingers grasped around the other woman’s shoulders and began to shake the other with a sense of urgency. “We need to go, now!”

“mhughhh? ..sasshiii? goo?” the other slurred as her eyes struggled to wrench themselves open, all the while dust and dirt began to scatter down all around them.

SKRLINGGG!

From nearby a falling clay pot announced its destruction with joy as it met the ground. “Yes, go! This place is coming down.” Musashi noted even as she began to pull the other up from the ground - for now hoisting the woman’s arm over her shoulders as she began to push the both of them toward the doorway.

Behind them the chair clattered onto the ground as they disappeared into the pathway that led into the main lobby. The hallway was luckily wide enough for the both of them to pass, even as the sleepy doctor’s step began to gain more and more spring to it, as the woman’s sleep passed.

THUNKHHHKRGHHHHhhhhhh!

“Shit!” cursed the ronin as her ears rang from the sound of dirt and rock crashing down. A cloud of dust blew past them. The kitchen was gone from behind them, but they hadn’t the time to mourn for the loss of their dear rice and water.

Now that the other was awake, Musashi allowed her to fall behind herself, simply dragging Hibiki forward by her hand. “The place is coming down, don’t know why! Just move it!” she yelled behind her, their pace accelerating to that of a jog as they emerged from the hallway.

The ever circular fourway room opened before them, even as the rumbling earth behind them continued to collapse, the hallway disappearing collapse by collapse. With no time to think, the ronin followed her memories as she hugged the right side of the wall and busted through the doors into the square guard room.

“Why is this happening?!” could be heard from behind the forerunner, even as she navigated past the pair of reeking bandit corpses and barged through into the next room. Judging from the ever closing rumbling, the lobby had just been swallowed, now hosting none but worms.

Right, right. Spikes. Fuck. FUCK!

Closing her eyes, Musashi yanked forward as she brought the good doctor before herself, quickly sweeping the woman’s legs from underneath her and took her into a carry.

“Hold tight, princess!” she giggled as her legs spurted forward. Her right leg carried well enough, it seemed. She could move normally, again. She’d most certainly have to properly thank Bikki later, given without those salves and remedies she knew her recovery wouldn’t have been this complete, this fast.

“Wh-hwuha?!!!” squealed Hibiki, even as she wrapped her arms around the swordsman’s neck for further support. As flustered as she was, she knew better than to throw a fit… At least yet.

Snaking forward along the path, Musashi kept her eyes peeled. She held no particular desire to make closer acquaintances with the pit on both sides of the narrow, winding path. “Bear with it, princess!” the swordsman commanded just as the shaking grew more violent.

KKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRkkkraaghhhh..

“Hyaah!” squealed the poor civilian as the ground gave way before them, the earthen rage unquenched. The path had begun to crumble and collapse, even as the trap covers began to fall apart, revealing the sea of spikes hidden underneath.

Rather than slowing her pace, the swordsman accelerated as she leapt into the skies, her thighs slinging her forward with as much power as she could muster. Holding ever tighter onto her princess, the pair soared across the skies for what seemed like hours, before they crashed onto the ground once more. This time, ground beyond the sea of spikes. A landing that led them straight toward the entrance hallway.

The ronin sprinted right from landing, her legs refusing to stumble in the slightest as she fought for the both of their lives against whatever had decided to bring down this miserable hideout of theirs.

Turning herself enough to run backwards for a moment, the ronin slammed onto the door shoulder blades first, crashing through it with a grunt as she released the tension from her abdomen. She couldn’t afford the lose her air here from such a lousy impact.

Spinning in motion, Musashi faced forwards and began to sprint as fast as her legs carried.

KRRRrnnnchhh….

Of course, with the cacophony of the door behind them getting crunched down to the tiniest of splinters, the swordsman had good reason to, for one, not stop and look behind her, and two, not slow down.

Frankly, having been saved by Bikki, Musashi would never let that gift be reaped by something as meager as this. And as such, she ran as fast as her legs could take her, even as her breathing began to grow ragged.

“You can do it! I believe in you, run, Musashi, run!” rang beside her ear, over the cacophony of collapsing earth. From what else she could hear, she wasn’t succeeding outrunning the collapse. Oh well! She had a figurative princess to save.

And just like that, the swordsman’s breathing was as light as a feather, her legs as fresh as after a full day of rest. There was little reason to stop, after all, she’d been given praise by her feisty royal carry-on accessory. It came with a doctorate!

“Yes, Princess!” the swordsman laughed vigorously as her pace accelerated once more. The doorway before them showing glimpses of a dawning morning forest, the shy rays of sun piercing through and illuminating those greens.

With a burst of dust the pair emerged amidst those greens, the last of the tunnel disappearing from behind them as the ground swallowed it.

Skidding to a halt, the swordsman continued to slide along the grass. Wet. Wet as all hell, actually! Judging from how the forest floor sloshed, it’d been raining for days.

Slipping and sliding downhill, the ronin steered them what little she could, her eyes glued on the fast approaching bushes. As good a landing pad as she was going to get, the swordsman thought as she turned them around, skidding down the mountain back first, her hold over Hibiki firm and steady.

“Brace, princess!” the ever-laughing madwoman giggled nonchalantly mere moments before impact.

Skrish!

Their motion brought to abrupt halt as the spongy bush absorbed them, Musashi was surprised to find that… Well, for one, that nowhere hurt like hell. And that seemingly, they were both still alive, even if dusty and now utterly wet.

“You alright, Princess?” she inquired even as her arms slowly lowered the other onto the ground whilst stepping forward from their chosen landing bush.

“It’s Hibiki!” snapped the good doctor.

“So in tiptop shape then. Good good,” chuckled the swordsman as she patted down her further messed up clothes, discarding what little dust and leaves she could from it.

“Hmph. Thank you, swordsman. I guess we are even now,” came the quiet, reserved response. Truly, Hibiki was quite taken and thankful. Many a swordsman would’ve simply ran at the first signs of collapse, or abandoned her behind. She knew as well as any, that she would not have been able to run fast enough, nor make the jump across.

As such, she had just been saved by this fool of a ronin here. Maybe they weren’t all utterly bad.

“Well, I couldn’t well leave you there, now could I, Princess?” Musashi grinned, even as she grasped the good doctor by her hand once more and began to drag the other down the mountain. “Regardless, we’re here now so let’s return to the city,” she simply dictated their next action, while navigating them down the slippery, wet mountain shrubberies.

“See, a pretty woman like you saved my life. I couldn’t just leave that unpaid, nope!” the swordsman laughed again as they bypassed a series of thin pine trees, clearly hungry for more sunlight than they could get down here in the forest shade.

“O-oi, stop that! I will have you know, I am married,” snapped the good doctor, even as she narrowly avoided slipping. What she couldn’t dodge however, was the embarrassed blush spreading across her cheeks. Just who did this sellsword think she was anyway?!

“It’s fiiiine. I didn’t mean it that way. Did’cha want me to~?” the swordsman’s cheer was never ending as they entered onto an ill-traveled path that continued to lead them downward in a fast pace.

“J-just let it be!” the crimson doctor blabbered, nearly biting her tongue in the process. At least they had escaped with their lives intact, and had found a path too. Hopefully, they would not be too far from Shimosa, once they reached the foot of the mountain.

“Are you suure~?” the swordsman continued even as her grip of Hibiki’s hand remained stalwart and ever unflinching. It was something she wouldn’t let go of, not before she had returned the woman to the Shinsengumi and collected her pay.

Of course, there was more to her wanting to protect the other than just her reward. With the Shinsengumi the woman would be safe and they’d take her home, all the whilst Musashi herself could finally find herself some udon.

“I am!” snapped the doctor behind her even as the path before them shone a blinding light back from further forward. But before it did, the ground flattened out from the incline it was in. As such, it seemed they’d reached the foot of the mountain in no time at all.

Apparently, the hideout was truly not all that far up, all things considered. It’d just remained well hidden.

And of course, in good company, even a long journey took hardly any time at all.
 

Miyamoto Musashi

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Pushing past the bushes into the morning light, the pair emerged from the mountain forest. Before them opened naught but flat grassy fields as far as the eye carried. To the left of them, nothing.

But to the right of them?
In the distance, one could make out the ever distant walls of the outer city, the building tops glinting above in the morning sun. Maybe an hour’s walk, all things considered.

But after all they’d been through, an hour was nothing, really. A tiny drop in an ocean of inconveniences and hardships that the pair had been through. The swordsman and her apothecary princess.

“See, Bikki! We’re as good as home already, y’know~! ‘s right there, see?” asked the swordsman as she firmly spun and pointed the other toward the city glinting in the distance. For good measure, Musashi’s arm extended past Hibiki’s ear, standing behind the woman, finger pointed directly at their destination.

“H..huh. We really are, are we not?” her voice ripe with disbelief, confusion, longing. With just the tiniest hint of urgency, as the woman came to realize just how close her loved ones truly were now.

Just how close home was, now.

But, the good doctor was yanked out of her thoughts as her body was jerked into motion once more. The swordsman seemed to spare little concern for her reminiscing as she already pulled Hibiki along the grasslands.

Musashi held onto the woman’s hand tightly as she pulled them along, leading the way. All the while she observed the entire view before her, eyes unmoving. A technique she’d practiced for as long as she could remember. To watch nothing, but to watch everything at once.

It was something a duelist was required to master if they wished their intentions to remain unannounced. It was a common technique, following your opponent’s eyes to decipher their upcoming movements, to prevent and counter their uninitiated attacks.

Regardless, the swordsman eyed the gently swaying grass, the swooning tree branches and unmoving bushes all at once. There seemed to be no threat in sight, but the ronin couldn’t be certain. Something had brought the hideout down and as such Musashi remained ever wary, for now.

For all she knew, it could’ve been something as simple as a landslide. But without confirmation, this was but one of the many options she was forced to consider. As such, their chosen path remained near the forest cover.

While it gave their attackers a better chance of a successful ambush, it also did wonders for granting them cover from arrows, if push came to shove. As such Musashi chose to rather travel close to the trees, than out in the fields.

She knew better than well her own capability to protect herself from arrows and the like, but held no particular desire to place Hibiki in harm’s way. After all, it would’ve been maddening to lose the other now after they’d come so far together. Frankly, it was something the swordsman would’ve been forced to count as a loss. And she didn’t lose.

“Do you think it will take us long to reach the city, Musashi?” came from behind the swordsman, fishing her out of the bubbling sea of deep-buried frustrations. For her efforts, the good doctor was rewarded with a quick glance.

“I’d saaay an hour or so,” the ronin pondered, her free hand brought up to cup her chin akin to a pose you’d expect from someone far more sophisticated than herself. “Buuut that’s if you can keep walking, Bikki!”

“I will have you know, I walk the mountains a lot in search of herbs! You just watch that your leg does not give up!” the woman snapped back. Oof! Those retorts had grown quite the edge to them, perhaps even sharper than her swords! Fast as lightning too.

Perhaps all the teasing hadn’t gone to waste after all. Progress!

But, for now it was better to just keep walking.

------

The grasslands passed by with the occasional gust of wind, little of note happening. The greatest menace the pair came to face was a rather rambunctious squirrel. The rodent was evidently possessed by the vendetta of fallen bandits as it laid down a hailfire of nuts and acorns from the trees.

A trail of cleanly cut nuts left behind them as the swordsman sheathed her blade. They’d narrowly escaped the possessed beast’s fury and fervor, as they found themselves near outer city walls.

Shimosa.

“All in a day’s work!” smiled the swordsman as she sauntered forward with her left hand still holding onto Hibiki’s, with a grip as unfaltering as her blade. “See, Bikki, you should always find practice in everything,” the swordsman half-lectured as she rounded the corner of the wall into their final straights.

“Practice? You just wiggled your sword to deflect some nuts, you know,” scoffed the good doctor as her pace grew hastier with each step, the calling of her home beckoning sweetly.

“H-huah?! Wiggled my sword?! I’ll have you know I cut through each and every nut with perfect precision!” huffed the swordsman as their pace continued to accelerate, until the pair practically jogged toward the gates.

Judging from the sun reaching its apex and the scorching rays that came with it, it was somewhere around noon, perhaps a little before, judging by the slight offset. At this hour there was little traffic on the main road leading to Shimosa, barring the odd disembarking merchant that could be seen in the distance, as well as their freshy arriving counterparts.

It was a simple and ordinary day for most. But for the mountain-worn, bandit hewn pair it was the best of days, that arrived after the worst of days. And so as they bumbled past the city gates and its guards uneventfully, the emerging city noise, idle chatter, clatter of ladles and platters was oh so welcome.

Again. It was what one could call home, for one half of this triumphant pair at least.

For the other? It was merely something familiar. Something that would be left behind sooner or later, whether she wanted it or not. At some point, Musashi knew that the world would whisk her away from here, to wherever she went next. And from there, to the place after that.

Drifting from one world to another, without a place to call her own, such was her nature.

But today?

Today she’d get paid, first off. Aye. Paid. Money. Food. Compensation. Food.

Food.

Mostly food, really.

Udon.

“Udon, we’re going to the Shinsengumi first, so that I can get paid. Then we’ll get you home. Then I’ll eat some Bikki,” the swordsman explained, as she once more began to walk forward, even as a slight droplet of drool emerged from the corner of her mouth.

Oh she could smell it already, that heavy broth, the grilled meat, the fresh, thick udon noodles. Better than just the smell, she could easily imagine the heavenly taste upon her tongue. Ohhhh she could already feel that thick, long string gliding along her lips.

So good.

The soy marinated egg with a slightly runny center dancing its delicious juices across her tongue, just waiting for her teeth to dig in.
So tasty.

This was after all, about udon.

A heaven on earth, observable, obtainable in a bowl. And she would, most certainly, do so.

When she had money to pay for it, that was. She’d resorted to cleaning dishes in the past - working for her food was after all, invaluable education in its own way. But now, she was oh so close to money.

Oh so close to udon.

Right, what had she just said again?

“Why are you eating me in my home? Musashi? Please explain?” carried the wind into her ears. The tone of voice was slightly worried, uncertain even. As if Musashi had recently blurted out something particularly improper.

Oh well, whatever it’d been, it was still less important than the noodles. “I’m not eating you! I’m eating udon. And not at your house. In a teahouse, as soon as I can find one,” the ever-hungry swordsman blabbered even as they had made surprising progress through the main street.

“I mean. I’ve been to one here.” she noted. “Once, twice. Five times? I mean, when I still had money, that is,” the swordsman continued. “I mean, I used to have money y’know. But sake and udon, they’re just…”

“You’d have to try them to understand, Bikki!” Musashi bursted as they rounded the corner into the western district.

Honestly, their progress was probably only expedited by the fact that the ronin had discovered her appetite once more.

“I mea-”

“Y’know, Bikki! We’ll go to the izakaya right after this, I’ll treat you to some udon and sake! My treat!” Musashi continued unfazed, cutting the good doctor off before her sentence had ever had the chance to be aired.

“I… I appreciate the offer, but I want to see my family, truly,” the apothecary protested even as the Shinsengumi headquarters loomed before them.

“A-..ah… Right. Yes. Family,” the swordsman sputtered, her swallow’s wings cut off expertly with the nodachi that was Hibiki’s tongue. Her soaring dreams crashed into the dirt helplessly, as Musashi shook her head a little.

“I understand. Family. Yes. Uhm…. Right. Yes. Uh. Go? Go,” the swordsman’s gaze lingered on the open gates of the Shinsengumi’s lodging, before her legs finally budged.

And it was there as she passed by her once more slain dreams of company, the ever-cheerful swordsman grimaced. It was something she’d come to find time and time again. World after world, she would encounter others.

One after another, she would grow attached. Allow her emotions to run rampant as she developed feelings. Fell for one, fell for another.

But, much like she fell for them, she fell on her blades each and every time.

As they had years to come, whereas she only had however long the world granted her. However long, before another portal appeared and swallowed her once more.

With her feelings slain, the swordsman stepped into the Shinsengumi courtyard that once more presented her with little of interest, the odd guard aside.

“Halt!” echoed across the small courtyard.

Ah, yes. They’d not lost their enthusiasm over the weeks she’d been gone, that much was certain.

“State your business!” ...they really were predictable, weren’t they?

“Sword-for-hire, here for my reward for clearing the mountain bandit hideout. As well as Hibiki the Apothecary; saved from slavery, from said bandits,” noted the ronin with an exasperated sigh. She just wanted her money so that she could deliver Hibiki home and then proceed to drown out the past few weeks in whatever excess she could drown herself in.

Whether that was for her broken body or her broken heart, nobody knows. Except you, of course.

Tilting his head for a moment, Musashi could essentially see the gears starting to click and clack in the guard’s head as some tired mule began to pull forward. “W...wait you… You came by a f-few weeks ago, didn’t you? You’re alive?!” he gasped with visible confusion on his young face that for now remained unstruck by the sun.

“Mmmmm, Bikki. Am I a ghost?” inquired the swordsman, her eyes darting toward the other for a moment, before shifting back onto the guard.

“H-huh!? N-no? Nearly, but no?” the good apothecary blurted even as she was clearly bothered by the presence of the singular guard.

“Uhh… Right. Right. Rightright,” blabbered the guard even as he vigorously shook his head for a second. “uh… Do go to the reception, then!” he finally flapped his lips with what little composure he had managed to collect.

Sheesh. If the guards here were so flustered by simply someone coming back from that damn mountain, how many people had gone before her, only to never return?

“On we go then, Bikki,” noted the ronin as she turned toward the small office building she’d been to a few weeks prior. Of course she knew the demonic crone that waited within. Yes. That one. The one she’d met a few weeks back that had left her with naught but feelings of confusion and inadequateness.

This time? This time she just wanted her just payment. And honestly? She’d leverage further coin from Bikki, without feeling the slightest pang of remorse. After all, she had gloriously saved a highly trained apothecary and brought her back without so much as a bent hair.

Barely. But she had.

A chosen few steps later, the pair stood before the small outhouse and its sliding door that concealed behind it their final opponent. The accountant.

Knock knock.

Musashi rapped her knuckles against the doorframe even as the continually excited woman sighed softly. Many reasons to be satisfied, yet equally many stood to direct her toward dissatisfaction.

“Come in,” came from the inside, snapping the ronin out of her thoughts once more as she pushed open the door.

“After you, Princess,” she flashed a smile, standing aside to allow the good apothecary to pass inside. And pass Hibiki did, making her way into the cramped space before lowering herself into a seiza before the accountant.

Musashi followed suit, nimbly closing the door behind herself even as she slowly lowered herself to a similar knelt position onto the pillows set onto the floor. Before them, the very same desk and ledger that Musashi had witnessed before.

“Name and occupation?” fired the accountant, wasting no time with pointless pleasantries. Her ever-sharp eyes darting from one to another between the pair all the while the pages of the ledger flipped one after another.

“Miy-”

“..amoto Musashi. A ronin, yes? Sent weeks ago to deal with the bandit hideout in the mountains,” finished the accountant nonchalantly. “I assume the problem has been dealt with. She is your proof?” continued the verbal onslaught as her gaze shifted toward the good apothecary.

“H-hibiki, miss. Hibiki Tachibana. I run…” the woman paused for a second, considering her words for a moment. “...ran the Tachibana apothecary before I was captured by the bandits on one of my trips to gather medicinal herbs. I am certain my family has made reports of my disappearance,” explained Hibiki, applying what verbal medicine she could to the cold front quaking off of the accountant.

“...I was held captive by the bandits and forced to treat their wounds against my will. I… I was freed by Miss Miyamoto here. She was injured, so our return was delayed.” Ruffling through her robes, the apothecary sought for something, before a small scroll was produced from the confines of her cloth.

“Here. I kept a medical journal of Miss Miyamoto’s injuries, it should explain our delayed return,” continued the relentless professional. But of course, the woman wasn’t done. “I can confirm that she indeed slew the bandits.”

“And the hi-”

“As for the hideout, it collapsed tonight and we barely escaped with our lives,” slashed Hibiki’s tongue, countering. “As such, Miss Miyamoto has dealt with your bandit problem, the danger of the remaining encampment for future bandits, as well as rescued my life,” charged forth the ever valiant medic.

Musashi stared forward blankly, her eyes darting wildly between the pair; the freezing cold of the accountant clashing against Hibiki’s radiant heat, interlocked in a clash of words, not all that different from a clash of swords.

How exactly she’d ended up here the ronin hadn’t the foggiest idea - Hibiki’s capabilities in such a situation having completely caught her off guard and shocked her into confusion. What exactly was going on here?

“So surely, you intend to reward her appropriately? It would not do for the Shinsengumi to underpay their freelance employees exemplary work, now would it?” Slashed the apothecary turned lawwoman, her voice overflowing with a sense of demand.

“Ah. Yes. We do pay. Four thousand yen as agreed,” stated the calm voice, even as she pulled open a desk drawer containing slips of paper notes. Most likely, the slips would be used as additional documentation of the transactions between the Shinsengumi and their enlisted sellswords.

“Eight thousand,” snapped the lawgiver.

...whuh? Hibiki was demanding more pay for her? Musashi couldn’t help but eye the other woman in admiration as the apothecary leaned forward ever so offensively, clearly ready to defend her demand.

“U-uhah?!” staggering backward the accountant’s defeat was all but certain. Somewhere along the way the conversation had shifted from a negotiation to simply laying down what demands there were and expecting the other side to comply.
Musashi most certainly complied. By continuing to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. As hard as that was. Honestly she felt like cheering on her Apothecary Princess in her valiant, glorious battle. But there was a time and place for everything. And now was neither.

“Eight thousand. The bandits lay dead; that was the four thousand. She saved myself and the hideout lays in ruins. Most certainly that is worth a doublement of her reward, yes?” A solid explanation if any, most certainly.

“Mh… I don’t think that is appr-”

“It’s most appropriate. She went above and beyond your original request. She also made certain that my life was placed above her own. I haven’t suffered even a scratch thanks to Miss Miyamoto’s valiant protection. I demand her compensation be just and fair.”

The cold of winter attempted to resist the ever demanding summer heat, but it was obvious which side of the desk had the momentum this time.

And it wasn’t the accountant’s.

“Eight thousand. She will be compensated eight thousand yen,” conceded the accountant with a sigh as she took a slip from the drawer and dipped her brush in the inkwell. This time, it was her who was left in utter confusion about what had just transpired.

Musashi couldn’t help but feel a triumphant sense of victory, even as her eyes scanned the slip.

Swish. Swash. Swishswish.

“I will fetch your reward now, please wait here,” explained the woman as she stood up and offered a quick bow. With the slip in hand, the woman exited through a smaller side door behind the counter, closing the door as she went.

It was fairly obvious that they wouldn’t keep any substantial sums of money here at the front of the place and that the full wealth of the Shinsengumi was kept somewhere better protected. And the sum Musashi would be paid now? It was definitely one that would have to be fetched from the main vault.

“Thank you, Bikki,” exclaimed the swordsman as she turned toward the other. “I can’t say how much I love what you just...” Musashi offered with a pleased smile, barely managing to conceal her urgent desire to bounce in place.

Eight thousand?! That equaled more bowls of udon than she could count… Or maybe one gigantic bowl, to swim in?! How crazy would that be? The ever ravenous udonist’s imagination ran wild even as her stomach growled rebelliously, the small establishment echoing the roars of her neglected desires.
“It was nothing, truly. Consider it my payment for your services in saving my life. I truly do owe you my life. For that, a mere four thousand yen negotiated for your benefit?” she pondered for a moment, “Pay it no mind. You risked your life for every last coin,” giggled the good apothecary.

“I simply wish your next endeavors take you somewhere safer,” marked Hibiki quietly.

“Mh… I go wherever my swords take me!” laughed the swordswoman triumphantly.

Ah! Her swords! She would most certainly be able to afford to fix the broken katana now! The triumphant feeling inside the swordsman grew by the second, even as the two waited for the accountant to return.

“After I get my money, I’ll see you home. Where do you live, Bikki?” inquired the swordsman, determined to use what little time they had left together, in something else than silence. Anything else, really.

“Ah..! The apothecary is…” the apothecary grew silent for a second, as if searching for her answer for a moment. Of course, it couldn’t be. She’d lived here her whole life, so she most certainly knew where she lived. “It’s on the streets splitting off the main street. It is in the opposite district from here,” the woman specified after a moment.

“Then I’ll see you there safely,” beamed the swordsman, even as the side door opened once more, with the accountant emerging from the outside and closing the door behind her.

Thud.

“Eight thousand yen, as agreed,” A small sack slammed onto the desk, bearing a slight jiggle of coins behind the initial impact. “Most of the payment is in larger coins, we set five hundred or so as smaller change, for your convenience,” explained the accountant even as she lowered herself into a seated position once more.

“In addition to that, the Shinsengumi will consider you for more demanding tasks in the future. You have proved yourself capable, Ronin,” chided the account, offering the swordsman a cold as ever gaze as she did so. “As such, should you so desire, the Shinsengumi will hire you again in the future, should you find yourself lacking commission.”

Their intent was simple. In the Shinsengumi’s eyes, a lone ronin had survived a task that had claimed more mercenaries than one could count, either from losing their lives, or simply receiving a better offer from the bandits. And now?

A single swordsman had laid waste to all of them, all the whilst proceeding to survive and bringing back a most valuable of hostages. To the Shinsengumi that meant that they would rely on her in the future, should she accept.

After all, there were always tasks that would be too risky for their own forces to undertake, yet more than acceptable to be pawned off to disposable sellswords.

The ronin reached for her reward, jiggling the bag ever so slightly in her hand. Her judgement of the contents was based on a lifetime of trading her sword for such bags. As such she knew well enough that the contents more-or-less matched what she was promised.

Of course, that only made sense, given the accountant had just practically extended her a future job offer. The Shinsengumi would know better than to underpay someone they wished to hire again in the future.

The bag was swiftly tucked within the safety of her kimono-like clothing, concealed safely from immediate sight. It wouldn’t do to have her gold lifted from her so soon from actually striking it.

“Thank ye. I’ll keep it in mind,” the ronin noted, her legs already standing up. This time, she would leave on her own terms, without being ushered out. A minor moral victory, if any. But she’d happily take it.

“Let’s see you home, Bikki,” Musashi offered, her hand extended toward the other in an effort to provide what little support she still could. Mere moments from now the pair would be separated, so the swordsman would have herself depended on, with what little she still could in the small time they’d left.

The good apothecary accepted the offer graciously, grasping the swordsman’s outstretched hand and pulling herself up, aided by the irresistible pull of sword-honed muscles.

“Thanks again,” Musashi nodded toward the accountant whilst her yet free arm worked the door open, before pulling both herself and Hibiki out through the doorway. The noon sun bore down upon the pair as the air reverberated visibly in the distance. It would grow to be a hot day.

“Shall we then?” the ronin offered as her smile proceeded to promptly challenge the sun itself in a bout of brightess. Of course behind that smile her emotions burned just as brightly, just in a violently different shade. On one of her swords, weighed the desire to part as quickly as she could. Slay herself on the spot, as if that would aid her in healing faster.

On the other sword, the desire to prolong what little she could. A desire to discover an excuse that led to a detour. Or five. Something that would’ve allowed the conversation to flourish further. Something to offer a sense of normalcy and safety after what they’d experienced. An excuse, of course. But a credible one.

The reality was that both of those desires were horribly selfish, with little to no consultation paid to the good apothecary herself.

“Oh, yes. We should really get going. It should be supper soon!” Hibiki stated as her feet claimed the first step and stole the lead. “It should be down this road, across the main road and into the next district,” the fleet-footed and homebound apothecary frothed as the pair passed through the Shinsengumi gate and slipped into the midday traffic.
 

Miyamoto Musashi

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The Tachibana Apothecary wasn’t on the main road - it didn’t need to be. Unlike commodities and entertainment, medicine didn’t need to entice its customers. Medicine sold because people needed it instead.

Located in the eastern district of the outer city of Shimosa, the apothecary stood as it had for countless generations now. Weaving in the waning evening traffic the hungry swordsman and her homesick companion bypassed many a temptation. Ranging from tantalizing scents calling for their starving stomachs after an eternity of plain rice to curious knick-knacks begging for that newly obtained coin to be spent.

Swords, clothes, jewelry, anything and everything a wayward soul could want, the merchants seemingly had it all in the eastern district. Even if the both of them knew that it only felt so after such a long time spent outside of the city.

After a journey that lasted nothing short of an eternity Hibiki finally came to a halt, stopping the pair in their tracks as her eyes grew wide and glimmery. In total silence she simply stared in disbelief, wavering like a leaf in the wind with every passing moment.

Before them stood a one story house roofed with dark tiles. It blended into the cityscape well, other than the large sign hanging from the roof onto the roadside. “Tachibana Apothecary”, it read.

From the side of the house left a tall wall, lining the entirety of the property that was left behind the actual store. From where she stood, Musashi couldn’t quite tell what kind of property it would be.

“Home sweet home, hm~?” the swordsman sing-songed from beside the good doctor as she set her hand upon the woman’s shoulder reassuringly. She’d be there to see her home as promised, all the way to the very doorstep.

“I-I can’t believe we’re here,” the pharmacist’s voice shattered along with the dam that could no longer bar the long withheld emotions behind it. “D-didn’t think tha… that I’d ever really...see it again,” in the evening sun, Hibiki’s face glistened as Musashi’s hand reached forth and wiped away the tears, leaving traces of dirt upon the woman’s face.

“It’s just...I never thought I’d get out of that place alive,” and how could she have? For the longest time there were no signs of rescue. And even once rescue arrived, it’d been a lone, gravely injured ronin. How could one have truly believed in salvation with such fate?

“I owe you my life, and for that I will forever be in your debt, Musashi.”

Gah. Hibiki was so earnest, so utterly honest that it caused the ronin’s heart to flutter despite the fact that she readily offered a refute to the statement. The ever-gnawing sensation that she didn’t truly wish to leave announced its presence all the more in her heart, leaving the swordsman conflicted.

“You saved my life already!” yet despite her turmoil, an infectious smile pushed onto Musashi’s face and challenged the good doctor’s tears as the pinkette continued. “I truly would’ve died if not for you, Bikki. We’re even, really!”

“Still, Musashi. If you ever need anything, you can always come to me. Please,” the woman offered as they faced the building once more. With all said, the pair stepped forward and Hibiki’s hand reached forward to slide open the door to her apothecary for the first time in a long while.

-----

The door slid open accompanied by a refreshing chime of a bell announcing their entry. Before them stood a storefront empty of people, with tall shelves in the back imposing themselves upon any entrees. Beside the shelves stood a door into the back rooms, slightly ajar. Blocking access to the door and shelves was a sturdily built counter running across the entirety of the room.

“It...should be open still?” Hibiki noted from beside the swordsman, eyes wide with apparent worry as she sought for any signs of anyone else. Hand still on her shoulder, Musashi could feel how the poor woman wound tighter by each passing second.

“Welcome! We’re about to close for the day! I’ll be with you in a second!” called a gruff and creaky voice from the back, swiftly clipping the wings from the poor pharmacist’s settling panic, allowing her to unwind.

Moments later, the ajar door opened and a humongous grey beard stepped within the room. In tow of the magnificent beard followed an aging, somewhat balding man. From just a quick glance, his beard climbed up his cheeks all the way to that receding hairline, joining what was left of his back swept mane. His appearances were well kept and signaled a modicum of wealth, without the need to flaunt it.

“Tachibana Hirohito at yo-,” greybeard's introduction ground to a sudden halt as the scrunches of his forehead grew deeper, eyebrows soaring as his lips involuntarily curved into a delighted smile.

“Hibiki my girl!” the elder bellowed, his body seemingly forgetting its apparent age as he leapt over the countertop akin to a spring chicken closing the gap with a few enormous steps as the man caught the good apothecary into an enormous embrace, lifting the poor woman off her feet. “I thought we’d lost you yet here you are!”

“Grandpa Hirohito!” Hibiki laughed, returning the old man’s embrace simply content to be reunited with the man once more. It’d been far too long since she’d last seen the man. For a moment she flashed back to the moment as she wished her family well for the day, leaving for the mountain to gather herbs for the day. Only to never return. But here she was. Returning as she had promised, even if aided by an unexpected swordsman.

Musashi on the other hand fell back a few quiet steps, her frantically eyes darting to and from the door to Hibiki and back. Her window to vanish without a trace was closing on her, yet her legs felt as immovable as the Shiraihishi mountains themselves. After all they’d been through, the ronin couldn’t bring herself to leave Bikki behind without at least saying goodbye.

“It’s good to have you back, girl,” the old man grunted as she lowered Hibiki onto the floor once more, before turning towards one pink-haired swordsman with inquisitive eyes. “And who might this be?”

The opportunity of escape slammed closed before the sellsword as the attention shifted to her. Yet before she could get a word out of her mouth, the apothecary intervened, “This is Musashi, the ronin who saved me!”

“All in a day’s work, really!” quick to deflect the praise, the Ronin raised her arms behind her head, lacing fingers as she offered a dismissive laugh. “Really, it’s Bikki here who did the saving, I came close to kicking it myself!”

“Well then, Musashi, you have our family’s thanks and respect for bringing her back,” the greybeard offered, bowing deep before the swordsman. “Won’t you stay for supper? Aki and I were just about to close the shop for the day,” he offered, unknowingly placing the unfortunate sellsword in between a rock and a hard place.

“Mh… The offer’s appreciated, really!” Musashi began, even as she glanced at Hibiki whose eyes pleaded for the pinkette’s prolonged presence. “...but I must decline this time,” continuing, the swordswoman’s heart tore itself in half as she chose against its whimsical nature.

Hibiki stepped forward, hastily catching the would-be escapee in an all encompassing embrace, “You’ll always be welcome here, Musashi Miyamoto,” she muttered.

“I’ll be back to take the offer another day, promise!” the swordsman quickly offered as her traitorous heart ran ahead of her head once more, a source of much internal cursing as soon her head caught up with it. “I just need to take care of some...things... first,” the pinkette offered a stop-gap explanation as weak as her resolve to leave.

Yes. Things. Good job Musashi. Just brilliant. Maybe some stuff too, while I’m at it?

“I will hold you to that, you know?” Bikki pointed as she finally released Musashi from her hug, taking a step back. “If you don’t, I’ll get mad!” the apothecary exclaimed before she suddenly grasped the sellsword by her shoulders. Forcing the other to turn around, Hibiki pushed the other forward, quickly ushering the ronin out of the apothecary onto the street.

“I expect you to be back,” the apothecary commanded her savior before hastily slamming the door behind her. Just like that the two had once more grown worlds apart, despite being separated by a mere door. Seconds later, the apothecary grew boneless as she slumped against the door with a quiet thud. The band aid of goodbyes had been torn off with all the suddenness of a medical professional.

A dumbfounded ronin stood on the street, still trying to piece together what had just happened. A part of the sellsword’s sundered heart demanded her to turn around and tear the door open right at this moment. Yet with much anguish and restraint, she quietly muttered. “I will, Bikki. I will,” forcing her leadened legs to move, one step after another. Musashi was truly grateful for Hibiki’s assertiveness, sighing as a long-held breath finally escaped. One that Musashi hadn’t even realized she was holding.

Musashi knew for certain that she would hold her promise. That one day, she’d be back. But first, what had begun with a worthless sellsword drowning her sorrows in udon and sake, had to end much the same.
 
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