Wow, I'm tired. This chapter... too abrupt? Too little/much? Not enough everyone else?
Well, just gotta wait for Chapter 5 then.
sate, douzo.
Chapter 4: Fragments of a past.
The young samurai was thinking solemnly to herself, her attention fully drawn to the contents of her wonders while her body moved through the labyrinth-like manor, its every corner and ends long etched to the depths of her memory, never had been forgotten even till now.
Each step was heavy, as though her straw footwear were made of metal plates and concrete soles. Her insides struggled in a personal war of contradictions as the unchanging expression she held refrained from exposing the battle wounds.
The more she walked, the more isolated her surroundings became. No longer did she pass by the ever so mysterious covert members that would give her looks of mistrust, or the training grounds where novices would quaver in their training boots at someone far more superior than themselves.
A Zen garden soon greeted her, as peaceful in ambiance as it should always be. She felt herself calm down as she crossed the bridge that connected the different sections of the manor together above the sea of white sand.
Following the one-way corridor that led towards a lonely yet extravagant home, the warrior’s journey was gradually accompanied by music of the common people. She followed the melody until a single sliding door granted her no further movement.
Lifting her arm, she knocked gently on the wooden pane that held the thin translucent paper together. The music stop immediately with a surprised twang to the strings of the instrument used and a pained whimper found its way to the warrior’s sensitive ears.
“Is... Is someone there?”
An unusual question compared to the usual “who is it” was asked from inside the room.
“It’s me.”
“Goto-san?”
“No…”
There was a curious hum from behind the white sheets as the door slowly begins to slide open before the warrior, a well-combed head peeking out from between the gap.
A gasp before the door completely flew open, revealing a well-endowed woman dressed elegantly from head to toe. Dreary eyes literally popping open at the uninvited guest.
“Yo… Yoshi…” All the woman could do was stammer incoherently, the name fooling with her tongue as it tries to escape with each attempt of being articulated. “Yocchan…?” Finally, what she had been looking for flowed out intimately as a whisper.
The samurai nodded and immediately gasped in surprise as the refined woman lunged towards her into a tight hug without any hesitation.
Wait.
She pulled away just as quickly with a worried face.
“I’m not hallucinating again, am I?”
The woman lifted her slender hands to touch the warrior’s face, feeling her cheeks that had sunk in slightly, the rough texture of her skin that had weathered many changes, and those eyes that reflected her own; they were somehow not as gentle as it had once been.
“They told me then that you had left for a mission, but it’s been years! I thought maybe you… I’ve never believed it.”
“It’s real, I’m here.”
Yoshizawa cupped the hands that held her face and pulled it away softly and reassuringly, holding them in midair. It felt like the right thing to do, but the taller of the two felt something missing. Every word she says and every move she makes now... she doesn’t know why she is doing them anymore yet she’s doing them all the same.
“Yocchan, I missed you. I’ve missed…”
The woman whispered shyly and leaned forward on her tipped toes, hoping to meet her old acquaintance’s lips with her own. The other did nothing to escape it and accepted the contact willingly.
It was different. It was warm, soft, and innocent. The warrior remembers stolen kisses and playful touches. She remembered nights that consisted of these, and she remembers the lips that she had unconsciously pressed against in response. None of these however matched, being nothing but unlinked memories.
It was only a matter of time when either one decides to pull away. Yoshizawa made it her choice to be the one to do so while her hands were still clasped around the smaller and much smoother ones.
“I’m home, Rika.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Her arms were weak, no thanks to the uncountable days and nights that she had slept through which did nothing to replenish her strength. Despite so, she still insisted to running a finger across her lower lip, the sensation of something weighing on it still lingering with her.
Her hands closed into a tight grudge-filled fist as her mind refreshes scenes that she did the least to welcome. She was anything but a weakling, so how could she have allowed herself to fall into something as pathetic as what she is now…?
“Stranger-san! It’s time to go.”
If it wasn’t for the happy-go-lucky call from a distance, she wouldn’t have remembered that she was now sitting by the shore that borders the ocean, or that she had actually came with someone, or even the fact that she was still bandaged quite poorly. She had almost forgotten that she was injured rather badly a few days ago.
“There you are!” Said companion commonly known to her as ‘Mako-chan’ or more formally, Ogawa Makoto, ran up to her with her infamous fishing net and smiled. “Isn’t it great to be walking about again? That way you wouldn’t completely degrade into tofu while you heal.”
”Don’t you have a better analogy?”
“What’s ana-lo-gy?”
She cringed at the simple mind of the peasant and struggled to get up instead of explain herself. Makoto on the other hand, quickly hurried to assist the recuperating woman.
“Be careful! We don’t want you splitting your guts open again.”
“I can assure you that it would not happen!” With all her stubbornness, she refused to move in the same pace as Makoto. Unfortunately, it only resulted in a sharp splitting sensation tearing across her abdomen. She winced hard and fell limp, falling forward slightly if it wasn’t for a pair of helping arms that promptly stretched out to help her.
“You see! Konkon said specifically that you shouldn’t strain yourself even if you’re already conscious and able to move again. Why won’t you listen?” Makoto scolded like an upset parent as she helped her companion up again. She was thankful that nothing serious actually happened though.
“What do you know?” The hardheaded woman countered, struggling to get her legs into motion again.
“I know that if you carry on being like this… I’ll have to make you listen by force.”
“Yeah right, like I’d be afraid of you.”
“I’d throw you into the ocean as fish food if you won’t cooperate.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” The older woman laughed at the ludicrous claim.
“I’d be dumb enough to try.” Makoto smirked confidently, tightening her grip on the other’s arm that she held on to.
“Ow…” The injured woman winced at the pressure and shrugged to show that she wasn’t going to play along. In reality though, she was actually convinced that Makoto would truly have her be treated as fish food,
by mistake.
“So… let’s talk while we walk.” Makoto suggested upon noticing the prolonged silence, though personally feeling proud of having conquered the stubborn mule that she was assisting at the moment for once.
“I’d rather not.”
“You’d rather hear me babble for the next 20 minutes then?”
“Okay, fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“I’d really, really like to know your name actually.”
“Is it necessary?” Makoto nodded enthusiastically, no intention of pulling away her excited look until she’s given a satisfactory answer.
“Of course it is! If you were to wander out some day and faint on the street, I’d at least know who I should be looking for. Or if your grave needs a name, things like that. You know…”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What else can I be?”
“N-never mind.”
“Come on, it’s just a name.”
”Fine!” The elder grunted and reluctantly nodded, “Fine… it’s Fujimoto. Fujimoto Miki.”
“Such a cute name,” Makoto mused, “I hope you would cooperate with us from now on, Fujimoto-san.”