Chapter 8: [Arc III] Chapter 2

Day two.

.

She slept with one eye open that night.

She hasn’t been this on guard since her first few weeks here. She slept on the floor, leaning against the wall, left hand wrapped around Kunishige’s handle, right hand wrapped around its scabbard. A quick iai slash, when executed fast enough, would be enough to halt this stranger should he dare attack her in her sleep. But she didn’t risk it, she merely kept her eyes closed, drifting with difficulty between sleep and wakefulness. The stranger wore armor, which meant he was a warrior, a fighter, a shinobi who would kill her in her sleep because he could.

Dawn comes unexpectedly bright and breezy. She awakens, having drifted off to a steady slumber a few hours before, surprised that she is unharmed and alive. But she is more surprised at the presence of her swords at her side and the empty bed. It seems that the stranger had taken off without alarming her. But if that were so, why was his armor still here?

She smells something burning outside and moves quietly, using the tip of Yamenokayama’s blade to move the thin sheet hung across the doorway. The stranger is crouching by the fire, roasting a small animal. He doesn’t seem aware of her, yet he doesn’t seem to be relaxed. She’s certain that he’s not some mere civilian then, so she approaches him cautiously, lowering the blade lest he think she’s ambushing him.

“You.” His tone comes off cold and threatening.

If she was still a child, she would have considered throwing away the sword. Instead, she stands upright, sword aimed at the ground, a simple excuse ready to come out of her mouth.

“You’re still here.”

Which couldn’t be a more obvious statement, as she could almost hear him laughing from years and years away. She’s never been good at speaking, not when she’s unsure of the situation and whoever she’s speaking with. He’s a shinobi and he was attacked, and that is all she knows.

He grunts and mutters something inaudible, before going back to the roast.

And it is a better reply than suddenly going for her throat and ending everything there. They can begin to be civil, at least, with no unnecessary fighting or bloodshed. It is good, she thinks, this is good. She only has to find the proper words to introduce herself.

“I am Madara Uchiha.”

He begins, and it is only right that she follows.

“I am Shikai.”

.

.

The roasted animal’s skin is charred and bitter.

He doesn’t usually resort to something so desperate as to hunt and cook a wild animal. He isn’t even hungry, not really, but he needs his strength. He’s healed well. It seems, in his unconsciousness, the woman had replaced the herbs around his wound, stitched him up a bit better, wrapped his bandages a bit tighter last night. If so, then she is even less likely to be an enemy and more likely to be an ally. And he does not make allies, hasn’t had the need for them anyway.

Yet when an opportunity presents itself, he does not hesitate to take it. So when the woman introduces herself with such ease, it’s as if the gods above had decided to be in his favor for once, and delivered something right in front of him. He’s never really had any allies outside of his clan years ago, and only time will tell whether this proves to be advantageous for him. And since it seems she has nothing more to say beyond her introduction, he says the next thing for her.

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“You are here to help me.”

It was neither a question nor a command.

“Yes. It is under the orders of my Lord Juei.”

He hasn’t heard of such a lord nor any clan bearing that name either. If this lord was to make an alliance to him by sending over this samurai to deliver a message, and unwittingly be in his aid, this could only go so far.

“And what does he want in return?”

Noble lords always want something in return. They always seek to better themselves by stepping over someone else, by taking something from someone else. They will use any means necessary, whether it be the shinobi or the samurai, and the ending is always the same. Once the contract ends, so do the promises of fame or fortune, protection and the like. But the Uchiha had no such role, instead they were the ones fighting their own battles, waging their own wars.

“Nothing. He simply says that I accompany you.”

He does not believe her. How could he? Whoever this Lord Juei is, it must be someone who’s heard about what happened; the founding of Konohagakure, the humiliating surrender of the Uchiha to the Senju, his anger and frustration, his departure from the village itself. This Lord Juei must be someone powerful, so powerful that his name eludes even him.

“For how long?”

“As long as you see fit.”

He answers raise more questions than he’d like, and he cannot trust someone simply by taking their word for it, no matter if it was a samurai, whose kind swears by their oaths and promises, who would rather take their lives than betray their moral code. He’s sure the woman is a samurai, else why would she be carrying swords and practicing katas?

“When this is all over, you will kill me.”

She does not have an answer for him immediately because it is true. It is a fact. If not her, then someone else. They will try. They all will. Yet he will remain alive, triumphant. He always is. Treachery is something he knows a bit about all too well.

“No.” She says, “When this is all over, I will simply leave.”

“And I am to take your word for it?”

“I have no reason to lie.”

And perhaps she doesn’t. She had treated his wound the night before when she could have just killed him, and even made him something to tell. She wouldn’t really have any more reason to lie, having gone through all of that. If anything, perhaps she is trying to sound sincere and genuine. Perhaps this lord of hers does want to help him. Perhaps this lord has something against the Senju, which is not really that surprising, and thought to eliminate it with his help.

“Then we will leave. Soon.”

He loathes the feeling of uncertainty, but at that moment, he feels it is only right.

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