Sword in the Slums

Kara was not overly pleased with her current living arrangements. They were fine of course, by average peoples standards; however Kara didn’t consider herself even a little bit average. While she had spent the vast majority of her life travelling through the desert by caravan, it somehow felt easier to accept sand everywhere when living in a tent, albeit an extraordinarily lavish one. Looking around her, now, modest living quarters she gave a small sigh as she moved to her wardrobe. It had been for the best she was certain, giving up the perks of staying with her parents. They had always been stifling in their need to display a ‘particular type of altruism to the needy masses.’ She mainly saw it as hypocritical, but not for any benevolent morals that she held; merely that she saw what could be done with their knowledge and felt that they squandered it.

As she stood in front of her wardrobe half dressed and pondering the politics of charitable giving, a breeze swept through the room briefly. Most people would have relished the fresh air, enjoying the momentary reprieve from the baking heat, not Kara. The breeze merely caused a huff of annoyance from the blonde woman as she brushed off a dozen or so errant sand granules that had brush against her arm. As the rough sand brushed against her delicate skin she silently cursed her decision to settle here. She felt like she’d done nothing but privately complain about the region ever since she arrived, and remembered she had made a resolution to abstain from that as she felt it ultimately undermined her decision to set up shop.

With another small sigh she ran her fingers across the gowns hanging within the white cedar casing and settled on a long dark red silken garment. It was heavier in construction than was likely suitable for the climate, however Kara was still young enough that she was entirely content sacrificing her personal comfort for her outward appearance. She took great care dressing, ensuring there were no wrinkles in her skirts, and that her hair was perfectly coiffed. She even went so far as to apply some cosmetics and a dab of her scented oils behind her ears; Rose and Honeysuckle.

Before she stepped out her door, she took her carefully crafted parasol. Her parents had had it made for her when they saw how easily she burned in the sunlight, with thick silk and a sturdy wood and bone handle; that paired perfectly with the cigarette holder she had chosen for the day - a delicate piece of ivory wrapped in gold filigree. Kara had work to do that day, but more importantly she had heard a rumor that an old friend of hers from her caravan days had made their way to Sunagakure. Beyond wanting to reunite with a friend, she desperately needed someone to carry out the duties that were normally handled by her parent’s hired guards.

It is the general intuition of the rich to step on the backs of the poor in order to continue getting richer. This was something that Ken Tanahashi had never had a real reason to believe until he had come back to the place of his birth, which had recently become the slum of the village recently called Sunagakure no Sato. He couldn’t blame them for their lot in life, everyone was different and everyone came from different backgrounds of course. There was always a general discomfort in the slums when someone with money came through, as though they were both looking down and through each of the people living there. It was funny how much difference a year would make, as he was never looked over before when he was the guard to a wealthy merchant. Now all he had left were the ruins of his old house, even his father’s sword had been stolen from him. That and his pride of course...

As the samurai, or former samurai maybe, woke to the sun creeping over the rubble that was once his family’s wall he sighed a deep sigh, shaking his head and pulling his sack from under his head, taking out his red linen robes and storing his blanket inside of it. It was convenient to use the sack as a pillow, everything inside of it being soft anyway as the young forager knew his business. He would move some stones and pull the sandals from their hiding place, attaching them to his feet to avoid burning them on the sands before also taking the small tin of hand rolled cigarettes and the lighter from it, putting one to his lips and lighting it, inhaling deeply so his head would swim and he could start forgetting about the past so he could work towards his future.

This new village seemed to favour the employ of ninjas over the Samurai, but Ken wasn’t discouraged by this. He was still able to find simple jobs to help out the village as he worked towards being able to afford a sword and a bow once more, to become complete again. A samurai who had his weapons taken from him was still a formidable foe, but he felt as though a part of himself had been taken away, and his father would be ashamed if he had to see him like this...

Maybe it’s a good thing you’re dead Otosan...you would have never ended up in this situation. You would have fought and won...but I lost. I’m a broken down shell of myself...I’m sorry...

He hid his things in a spot where nobody would find them without a very thorough search, and even then it was unlikely, and made his way out of his “home” to wander the streets looking for work once more. Most of the other people who lived here didn’t make eye contact with him. They all knew that it was best to simply keep to yourself, as getting attached to people in these parts was unwise due to the variety of different things that could happen. Ken had no issues with this way of living. He had become used to being alone again, and while it wasn’t his favourite way to live, it was also the only way he had right now. The sweltering sun made for a warm day, but he didn’t seem to notice much as the sand blew out of his hair, his finger pushing the sharp pair of glasses up his sweaty nose back into place so he could see properly, which made him quite surprised when he did.

The person approaching him looked like she didn’t belong. Not only was she dressed for a different country most likely, maybe the Land of Water, but she looked like she came from money...or at least more money than anyone here had. Another glance would show that her face looked familiar, though it was hard to say if it was the same person he thought it was. He would simply lean against the wall and continue to smoke his cigarette, wondering if it was indeed this figure from his past and if she would come to talk to him...

As Kara carefully picked her path through the streets she did her best to stop herself from twisting her face in disgust. She was not unaccustomed to being in the presence of less than clean people, however she still did not want anything or anyone to tarnish her currently pristine condition. The heat of the place made it all the worse, the smell of refuse slowly degrading in the sun, the stench of sweat on unwashed bodies, it was like a fog of invisible unpleasantness that thickened the further she got from her home. She found that if she breathed shallowly it was not nearly as terrible, though it did make her a touch lightheaded.

As she rounded a corner she was surprised to see a shock of red fabric amidst the dirty browns and beiges she had been attempting to see past. It was simple fabric, a linen from the looks of it, but well tended and somewhat. . . familiar. Turning her gaze upwards towards the person wearing the refreshing fabric she saw the figure of a man, apparently very comfortable in his current setting as he leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. She wasn’t entirely sure if this was who she was looking for, especially since it was altogether too fortuitous to bump into him just as she began her search. However there was a familiarity in his beautifully stoic face that she could not ignore. Kara decided that it was worth the risk asking, even if she were wrong who would know is this godsforsaken end of town? As she moved forward she would pull out her own cigarettes from a beautifully engraved tin she had stashed away in one of her gowns pockets, and place one into the end of her ivory cigarette holder.

Kara would place the holder between the first two fingers of her right hand, all the while deftly replacing the tin and holding on to her parasol; a well practiced balancing act. Putting on her most congenial smile she would approach the bespectacled man and hold out her right hand expectantly. “Good morning, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help a damsel in distress?” She would grin at her joke and continue pressing the man for information. “You remind me of someone that I used to know, please forgive my forwardness, but I am hoping to find an old friend in this dusty village. I am Doku Karasu, is there any chance that you worked on a caravan a few years back?” She would adjust her parasol to better block the continually rising sun, all the while smiling demurely as she awaited an answer to her questions.

He could see the discomfort on the woman’s face and thought that maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was just another rich woman who had wandered into the wrong area of time to try to see how the other side lived, and recoiled when they learned how “glamourous” it really was. The more disappointing part was that he had been correct originally, this was her. She didn’t seem to appreciate the living accommodations, not that there was anything he could do about it. He had busting his ass since he’d come back to this village, and had had everything taken from him. He had been thrown out of buildings, punched, kicked and spat on just for trying to get a bite to eat, which is when he gave up on eating food he hadn’t foraged himself. He’d had to deal with fighting over the slab of stone and sand that he slept on because someone wanted to take it from him, and he beat them to death and buried them in the said far away. Nobody said a word, they all knew the laws here.

He tried not too look too perturbed as she approached him and reached out her hand to him, something which he looked down at with a cocked eyebrow before responding; “Lady, you don’t want me to touch your hand. You can barely walk through the streets here. You shouldn’t be here.” At the next line she confirmed what he had previously suspected, that it was indeed the woman he had recognized. “I was enlisted for eight years to protect a caravan as their personal Samurai guard. I killed a hell of a lot of people for them, and became good friends with the owner...but now I’m here. Great, isn’t it? Came home to find my family was dead and my home destroyed. Had my weapons stolen from me in my sleep before I had learned how to properly live like this with other people around.”  He looked to the distraught, like vultures, his own distasteful look crossing his face now.

“How far the mighty can fall. What is a Samurai without a bow? A sword? His armour? He’s nothing but a man. He becomes a man who had everything taken from him, including his way out. The sword is a way for a Samurai to both kill his opponents, and to grant himself an honourable death...but I was robbed of that opportunity...not that I deserve it.” He shook his head and looked up at the woman with his gold eyes looking sad much against his own will. “So no, the man standing in front of you is no longer that man. He is nothing but a piece of trash on the street, and isn’t worth your time.”

(20 exp)

She was more than a little distressed that not only was she correct about who the man was, she was also woefully incorrect. What she remembered of this man was a far cry from the self deprecation she was currently viewing. Another person may have thought to find someone else, but not Kara. She had seen how handily this man had dealt with bandits and other ne'er do wells, there was no question in her mind that this was the man she felt she could trust with her safety. The only problem was of course; how to convince him of that.

She let out a small sigh and reached into her pocket again to pull out her lighter, a near palm sized gold contraption with the initials D. K. engraved on the side. She certainly wasn’t going to come to any useful solutions while anxiously awaiting her cigarette being lit. It was perhaps rude to keep the man waiting for any type of a reply while she flicked the metal wheel and took a slow drag to light the tobacco, but as one with the same habit she doubted he didn’t understand.  

“I don’t entirely disagree with you. You are no longer the man I once knew years ago on that caravan. However, you are certainly not trash. Believe me, if I have decided you are worth speaking to, you are. I watched you time and again easily deal with situations that to anyone else may have been quite the challenge. To you though, they seemed perfectly natural; as though you weren’t merely completing a task, but you were born for the martial arts. In the same way one might see a renowned dancer or inspired painter; they live and breathe their craft. It is part of them, even without their tools, every movement exudes their mastery. It is the spark that lights their very souls and I see that in you Kensai. While I do not pretend to know much of the way of the Samurai; I do know people and their abilities. You are the Samurai. I have never felt more safe then when you travelled with me. And it was not your bow or your sword that made me feel secure. It was you.”

“Oh how nice it must be to judge the worth of a person by ones willingness to talk to them...” There was a growl in the voice of the swordsman as he spoke through gritted teeth and a hue of red that began to tint his vision. This woman not only disrespected his position in life, but that of everyone else here. She believed herself to be so far above everyone that her willingness to engage with one of them would elevate them out of the darkness. He was the one who would elevate these people from their sorrows and lead them to the promised land, and while they might not always be the easiest people to get along with, he wouldn’t allow a single one of them to be left behind or looked down upon.

“How wonderful it must be to be so high above us lower dredges of society that you can elevate us with such a blessing. How fantastic for you. Meanwhile here we are, suffering, sick, cold at night and hot during the day, scraping by on scraps and scorpions, doing all we can to stay alive in a society that hates us. People like you only perpetuate that hatred. I would die to defend these people, and I would just as easily kill to do the same. I am a warrior, one of the legendary Samurai, of a bloodline that runs deeper than the roots of these lands. With my bare hands I could snap a mans neck with ease and not think twice. With a sword, or a bow, I am a fucking god. If you believe for one second I’m willing to allow the rich to walk all over me and my people, you’re a fool.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you either.” He finished his cigarette quickly, pulling another and lighting it and inhaling deeply as he tried to allow his anger to fade. “I remember you on the caravan. I remember my life constantly being forfeit. I am a masterful killer, and in these lands a warrior with no equal. These ninja are pathetic with their disgusting trickery. I face all of my problems head on, with blade, or with fist, and never back down from a fight.” He took another drag and let the smoke pass through his nose and dissipate into the air around him before shaking his head. “Why are you here anyway?”

(30 exp)

Kensai seemed very, very angry to Kara. Not at her, that didn’t seem likely to her at all, but definitely the man had some issues he was dealing with. It seemed most reasonable to her to assume that he was merely growling away his unhappiness to the closest living being willing to listen. And she was willing, if that was what it took to calm the man and secure his services. She did her best to look concerned and. . . remorseful? She thought that was the reaction he was looking for based on the content of his ranting. And in truth she was concerned, there was one point she disagreed with. It was that she, or at least people like her, perpetuated hatred. Her own parents, much to her displeasure, spent most of their energy assisting the. . . what did he call them? . . .lower dredges of society. It had been and likely still was, their sole passion in life. How could that possibly be hateful. Stupid, economically unwise, but certainly not hateful.

It hardly mattered though, that one small point was just a distraction from his overall message. Which if she understood it correctly was that he did not like being talked down to, or rather, he didn’t like anyone being talked down to.  A wry smile would almost form on her lips as she thought, I suppose unless it was someone of my station.  That piece of information she could work with though, it was easy enough for her to treat him as though he were on even footing with herself. She’d done much the same with anyone she had ever sold her various concoctions to in the past.

She allowed him his peace to continue in his anger, and would only meet his gaze steadily when he asked why she was there. One thing she could not do was anything to further upset the man. She had not been exaggerating in the least when she’d claimed to have felt safe in his presence, and she did not relish the idea of having to find a suitable replacement for that type of security and trust. She wasn’t sure she even could.

Taking a centering breath she would open her mouth to speak, close it briefly as she rethought her words, and then begin again. “At the risk of angering you further, I want you to know I sincerely meant what I said. I had never felt safer, either before or since. However I truly had no idea that it meant that your life was forfeit. In earnest, I truly believed that you were safe also, that what you did was not only what you wanted to do, but that it was a simple for you as medicine is for me. Please accept my deepest apology Kensai-san, I was a fool to not have realized sooner.” She would then bow deeply to the man as a further physical indication of the sincerity of her apology.

She would hold the bow for a moment or two longer than was required of an equal before rising again and answering his question. “I am here looking for you actually. I had heard a rumor that you had made your way to Sunagakure and it would seem the rumor held weight. I have recently parted ways with my family and must now make my way on my own. I would very much like to set up a shop in Suna. This being a new village and all I thought this would be an appropriate place to start fresh. I was hoping to be able to ask if you would be willing to be in my employ. If not, I completely understand, however at least allow me to take you for a meal or a drink. I feel dreadful about what I’ve said and done.”

“Unfortunately when you do a job like I do you are always in danger. I’m not going to hold it against you, those in a position of power never seem to understand the sacrifice of everyone around them. They simply see their own version of the world, where they are the only thing that is important and everyone else is merely dispensable.” He inhaled deeply as he watched the woman seemingly attempt to butter him up, scowling when she mentioned that she had left her family, but not pressing it. She noted that she was trying to start up a shop, and he could only assume she wanted him to...protect her? It was the most obvious point where the conversation would be going.

“I do not like to take charity. I feed myself and have no issue with getting water. I know how to survive...” He shook his head, finishing the second cigarette he had lit and crushing it into the sand under his foot. “Don’t take is personally. I mean no offence but the Samurai live life by a code, and I have my own personal one. If I can extrapolate what you want out of me, it is that you’re looking for some kind of security. Unfortunately, as you can see, I have no means of defending myself or anyone else. I don’t know how useful I’d be in such a position. I am not in a position to be turning down work, as I need the money (obviously), but unless you believe that my disheveled appearance will ward off the rabble rousers, I don’t know how helpful I can be.”

He sighed once more and sat on the sand, his robes resting around him as he shook his head again. “I hate how useless I’ve become. I hate being put in this position. I have been weeding the gardens and chasing pet scorpions around town because I have nothing better to do. The village won’t give me missions that make real money, I am unable to prove my worth. I’m better than any ninja they have in their employ, but they don’t see that. I’m stuck with my life in stasis sleeping in my rocks.”

(40 exp)

Kara was equal parts confused and angry at the man’s assertions. His complaining about her wealth aside, his miasma of emotion that he felt the need to heap on her was getting to be a bit more than she had patience for. Most people that she dealt with had a better handle on their emotions and as such were much easier to deal with. Perhaps this is what made one a good fighter? She had no way of answering that question, but she needed some sort of reason lest she lose control of her own emotions and heap anger on him in turn.

Clearly he had lost much and was dealing with some sort of internal struggle as a result. That she could understand, as she had recently lost much as well. And while she did very much want to secure his services, she would not beg which left her in a difficult position. He was unwilling to listen to reason; he complained of not having the proper means to outfit himself, or house or feed himself, and yet here she was literally offering him employment and he refused it outright. She suspected that perhaps he merely wanted someone to listen to him tell of his hardships. She remembered him being much more reasonable in the past, though it was many years ago and perhaps her memory was flawed. However, her current assessments of his state of mind seemed accurate to her, he was presently unreasonable. And you simply cannot reason with unreasonable people.

She stood for a few moments looking down on the white haired man slouched against the wall. As she studied him she noted that he was quite beautiful, silvery hair against pale skin, golden eyes similar to hers and a physique toned and strong from years of hard work and training. He had so much that he did not appear to appreciate, at least at this moment. Perhaps she should give him some time, time did mend most heartaches. Well, time and money; however he’d made it quite clear he wasn’t interested in her money. With a quiet sigh she would readjust the parasol on her shoulder and took a final puff on the cigarette she’d all but forgotten, tapped the end onto the sand and gently crushed it with her shoe. “I am going to tend to other business for now, my presence has clearly caused more of a problem than it may have solved. I will return tomorrow if that is agreeable to you, I do not wish to impose. Please know in all sincerity, that despite what you may believe about yourself, you are worth more than material trappings. You intrinsically have value, as do all those who have proven to be trustworthy, loyal and good. I know you won’t believe me now, but think on it; I came here looking for you specifically. Me, the one you claim doesn’t belong here, came out of what I consider to be comfortable to look for you. If I was not interested in Kensai, the person, from what you remember of me would I have bothered to do so on my own? If I cared less wouldn’t it have been easier to send a messenger or perform some other impersonal gesture?” She would pause and let out a much deeper sigh. She knew that nothing she said at this point would matter, he appeared stubbornly set in his thinking that she was somehow the enemy of ‘his people’. Just before turning to leave she would nod and speak softly. “Until tomorrow Kensai dear.”

It had seemed that the woman’s patience with Ken had run thin, as she was silent for a few minutes before telling him she was going to leave. She reaffirmed her position that he wasn’t useless, and that she had come here for him. He nodded at this, sighing softly before watching the woman leave. HE would sit for a few more minutes before picking himself up off of the ground and making his way towards his next errand, the market. After a rather successful trip there he would return to his pile of rubble, a smile on his face as he dearly clutched the weapons that he had purchased from the old bowyer. The other occupants in the area seemed to watch as he passed, some recoiling from the armed man as he went. He wouldn’t let it bother him; better that they were afraid of him anyway so they wouldn’t attempt to steal from him.

Ken carefully put down his bow and arrows, hiding them in one of the spots that he had meticulously cleared in order to ensure his belongings would stay his. The Kusurigama stayed wrapped around him, ensuring that he could protect himself if he needed too. He wasn’t willing to take any chances at the moment as he was now a threat, and several people had noticed that. He used a small water basin to wash his hands, feet and face, and removed his robe, putting it into the sack with the others that would be his pillow for the night and taking out the blanket. He would then light a couple of sticks of incense and walk to pieced together pictures of his parents, kneeling before them and bowing.

I will make you proud again, otosan. Today was the first step on my journey to redemption. As you told me, even the longest journey begins with one step...I miss you and Okasan every night...

He wouldn’t wipe the tears from his face, allowing them to hit the ground beneath him as he exposed his most vulnerable self to his loved ones. He would stay there until the sun had completely set and it became too cold to be there, at which point he would lay on the hay covered slab where he slept, and pull his blanket over himself. He wondered if the woman would stay true to her word and come back tomorrow...


The next morning Ken did a simple mission before returning to his home, having shot and killed a large predator bird. He would start a fire on the stone in front of his “house” and begin to carefully pluck the bird and prepare it for eating as he scanned to see if his companion from yesterday would return...

Kara went about other business for the rest of the day, allowing different things and people to distract her from her irritation. She knew she had to do something to secure an arrangement with the stubborn samurai, but she wasn’t sure what. Yet. She had the whole rest of the day to think about it though and by the time the next morning came she had an idea.


That morning Kara woke earlier than usual as she had to make it to the market before there were too many people and the sun was too high. She brought with her a wicker basket, two crystal wine glasses and an indigo dyed baby alpaca wool blanket, one of the softest materials one could imagine. The wool was made from a baby alpacas first shearing, highly prized amongst those who could afford such things. She dressed in an emerald green gown, choosing a yellow silk parasol to go with it for a contrasting effect. She had never prepared food, so her idea was likely foolhardy, but if the samurai would not come with her for a meal she had decided to bring one to him. She found in most circumstances that food was a universally acceptable olive branch when attempting to appeal to someone's better nature. The food she gathered at the market was simple, though undeniably delicious looking. Sprigs of grapes and some melons, bundles of fresh bread and aged cheese, a jar of honey and a bottle of white wine chilled and wrapped in linen to preserve its temperature.

She was quite pleased with her offering, she hoped that Kensai would be as well, though she doubted a single day or rather a few hours were likely to have that much of an effect on his mood. She wouldn’t let the thought poison an otherwise happy morning however and proceeded down towards where she had met him before. The first few minutes were easy enough, however as she was not used to carrying anything save her parasol and a few other small trinkets, the basket quickly became cumbersome. She didn’t expect Kensai to be in the exact same spot that he had been the day before, and unfortunately he wasn’t. With some effort she asked around to some of the less desperate looking creatures within the slums and at least found a general direction.

After hobbling along for some time, she found the man she was looking for, sitting just outside what appeared to be a pile of rocks and taking apart some very large looking bird. It was an unpleasant sight to be sure, not that the blood bothered her of course, it just seemed like an inappropriate place to do such a thing. Approaching as gracefully as she could muster she put on her brightest smile and called out to white haired man. “Good morning to you dear Kensai. I hope I’m not interrupting, I’ve returned with a meal I thought we could share.” With some effort she would hold out the basket to him as she spoke, waiting for him to take it from her.

Ken heard the sound of laboured footfalls approaching and looked up to see the woman from yesterday struggling with a basket in her hands. He cocked an eyebrow briefly towards her as she reached the seemingly very heavy basket towards him after saying they could share the meal. He looked from her face to the basket and took it into his hands, expecting it to be much heavier than it was. He let out a slight chuckle when he realized that the woman was far weaker than he had initially realized, likely why she was seeking out the services of someone with his particular attributes. He would put the basket down on the slab and looked into it, flashing a soft smile as he saw some of the fresh fruit and other things inside of it. “Well met, Miss Kara. I’ve also got something to share with you, a symbol of peace.”

He picked up a spit and skewered the bird that he had plucked, putting it over the fire to cook, letting it sit a while as he made sure it would be something that wouldn’t kill them when they went to eat it. “I am somewhat surprised to see you have returned...but not unhappy. I believe that yesterday was a bad representation of who I am...not that the things I told you weren’t true, but I am a better person than I managed to present. Today I am feeling much more...whole. It is as though the world has presented me with a second chance to be myself, and I intend to take it up on that.” He let out a slight laugh at the absurdity of the words he had just uttered, but the smile didn’t leave his face as he reached into his tin and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it off of the fire in front of him.

“I had considered seeing if you would subject yourself to eating with some of the other people here, but my bird is only big enough for two, and I believe that the setup you have here works for a more personal meal and conversation anyway. I won’t make you spend any more time with the people of the slums than needed, as I know it makes you uncomfortable. I hope that one day I may be able to break you of that, with more of these meetings or a potential working relationship, but I also understand that today is likely not that day. For now, this will do, and I hope you can see that even us gutter rats, as a charming young girl referred to us, can be civil from time to time.” He washed his hands in his basin after handling the bird and exhaled the smoke from his cigarette.

(60 exp)

As Kensai relieved Kara of the burden of the baskets she was shocked to see him smile, and then further laugh. It was not an unwelcome sight or sound, but definitely in direct opposition to his behaviour the day prior. As he mentioned having something to share with her, she became instantly concerned. The only thing she saw in the immediate vicinity that was shareable was his recently butchered bird. She was not at all a religious person, but at that moment she prayed that it was not the bird he wished to share. As he continued speaking she was inwardly horrified at the realization that yes, it was the bird.

While Kensai spoke of how he felt yesterday's behaviour was an ill representation of him as a person, and now he felt more whole she noticed a weapon of some sort on his waist. It would seem he had been quite sincere in his sentiment regarding weaponry. “I do always keep my word, thank you for allowing me the opportunity to show you that. I’m glad to see you smiling though, it is a most refreshing sight.”  In her mind she was scrambling for any reason to not eat the bird, she wasn’t much for eating meat in the first place and seeing it prepared had definitely killed her appetite. However after his speech about the alternative being eating with the other people in the slums, she figured that perhaps the bird was the better option. She would do her best to stall though, wanting to put off the experience for as long as possible.

Taking the blanket from the wicker basket she would lay it out on the ground in front of the fire, as a place where she could sit not in the sand. She would also pull the basket to within arms reach of the blanket so that she could get a hold of its contents without having to get up. Once things were in place she would lower herself gracefully onto the indigo covering and remove the wine and glasses and instantly realize her mistake. Catering was not her purview and of course she’d forget something as integral as a corkscrew. With a small sigh she would look over to Kensai at the fire and meekly speak. “I do appreciate the time I get to spend with you, and I wouldn’t refer to you as gutter rats, that seems quite harsh. I hate to be a poor host, but it seems I have forgotten the corkscrew, would you happen to have. . .” Her voice trailed off as she lifted the bottle in his direction hoping that he would understand her dilemma.

He was curious to see if she would commit enough to what he believed might be the facade to actually eat the bird. She hadn’t mentioned it, though that wasn’t overly surprising. He knew the rich, and he knew that the poor made them uncomfortable. He didn’t particularly have any reason to believe she wouldn’t eat it, though the omission of meat from the basket could suggest a reason. He imagined if she really wanted him to work for her, she would do all she could to attempt to gain, or buy, his loyalty. She spoke kinder words than yesterday, which again, not overly surprising. He had started off in a better mood and instead of going having to go on the defensive, she was able to simply focus on her task. When she handed him the bottle he cocked his eyebrow once more at the woman before walking into his house and pulling out a shoe.

“You know, I considered just smashing it so that the neck would break and we could pour it that way, bit I figured you’d enjoy this little trick...or find it disgusting, but don’t worry, to my knowledge these shoes haven’t been worn since this hamlet was destroyed.” He would put the bottom of the bottle into the shoe and move towards the wall. “This is a trick my father used to use. We never really had a bottle opener, but Otosan loved his Sake and was pretty resourceful.” He would place the toe of the shoe against a straight slab of wall, the heel being just a little bit away, and then would begin to give solid taps on the wall with the heel of the shoe. At first it wouldn’t appear to be doing anything, but eventually it would begin to move, continuing to tap until it was far enough out for him to grab it with his fingers and pull it out himself.

“That being said, I don’t know why you didn’t bring two of these. Are we going to just pass the bottle back and forth?” He would rotate the bird again, pulling out a small steel prod and cleaning it before putting it into the bird and pulling it back out, placing it on the back of his hand to check the temperature. “You were into chemistry and diseases, no? I seem to recall something like that. Do you know what happens if you eat an undercooked bird like this? Don’t worry, I won’t undercook it, that’s why I check the temperature like this.”

(70 exp)

As Kensai took the bottle from her hands and placed it in a shoe, possibly his shoe though she truly doubted it, she was absolutely mortified. She could see, once he began, what he doing. But it was still awful. That bottle of wine had cost more that ten pairs of those shoes brand new, and it seemed to be some sort of crime against wine. If only she hadn’t forgotten the corkscrew, then she wouldn’t end up having nightmares of this ordeal, which likely she would. When he mentioned smashing the bottle open she couldn’t help but let the shock she felt form on her face. She would sit there a moment, honey eyes wide and mouth slightly agape before regaining her composure after realizing he was probably joking. Hopefully. “It’s quite an ingenious trick actually, and thank you for not smashing the bottle open. It would have made quite the mess and been less than useful for consuming the beverage afterwards.” She would laugh lightly as she commented, she didn’t want to give the impression that she was harshly judging his efforts, even if she was.

When he mentioned passing the bottle back and forth, she let out a small gasp of realization as she would turn and remove two crystal wine glasses from the wicker basket at her side. Holding them out towards Kensai she would laugh again. “I almost forgot these Kensai dear. It appears I have been most forgetful this morning, my apologies.” The fact that he didn’t realize what to do with a bottle between two people, other than share drinking out of it, was a bit concerning to her. Was this another joke? She truly hoped it was, he’d heard of glasses before right? Maybe even used them? Was it possible that some people just didn’t use wine glasses? Maybe he was right, and she did need to spend some time seeing how the other half lived, she was paraphrasing his rants, but that seemed like his point.

Kara had never watched someone cook meat. She’d developed a distaste for meat at an early age, which made sense given her profession. When you spend all day handling ‘meat’ and it’s people, one is less likely to want to put that in their mouths. Watching Kensai now was almost enough to make her gag. At least he seemed to value the idea of cross contamination. Partially anyway, she’d seen him rinse his hands, but seeing him use soap at any point would have made her feel more comfortable. She understood the theory behind food poisoning, but she’d never had someone talk to her about while cooking for her. And while he wasn’t entirely correct in the nature of her studies, she was surprised that he remembered that much about her. “That’s more or less accurate, those were certainly areas I studied. Though I must admit, I have never seen meat cooked, it’s not as pleasant looking as people tend to describe it. My main area of focus was surgery, so I’m sure you could understand how that would make meat products a bit less appetizing. I will eat it of course, I would be a horrible guest otherwise. I do trust you’ll not poison me?” There was a sparkle in her eye as she joked, she was willing to try some of the bird, it’s flesh at least was less like a human, hopefully enough wine would wash the taste away.

She pulled out two small glass drinking vessels, which caused Ken to cock an eyebrow. Why would they make them out of glass? It seemed like such a waste. He reached out for one of the glasses and shattered it in his hand instantly, not realizing the strength with which he had grabbed it. He was actually a little bit embarrassed, along with feeling bad that he had ruined the woman’s little glass trinket. “I’m sorry. These things are very fragile...I don’t understand why people went from using stone and clay to glass,, which is made from sand, which mean inherently it’s going to be extremely easy to break...” He reflectively tore off a strip from the sleeve of his robe, wrapping it around his hand and putting pressure on the wound caused by the broken glass. He would roll his eyes and pour a generous amount of wine into Kara’s glass before keeping the bottle for himself.

“These bottles are far sturdier, made to actually last...” She would talk about how she had never seen meat cooked, which somewhat surprised the Samurai but at the same time he imagined the rich usually hired people to do that kind of thing for them. She seemingly made a joke, which he would smirk at. “Worry not, I won’t poison you. There are much faster and more effective ways to kill someone than the sickness you would get from the bird. I’m not one for torture, I’d prefer to not make someone suffer. I’ve had the kind of sickness one gets from uncooked bird and it is extremely unpleasant...” He wouldn’t get into that topic, as it certainly wasn’t one to have around a meal, instead taking a swig of the wine before putting the bottle back down and drinking from his water skin as well.

When it was ready he would begin to take it apart, pulling the wings and legs off, and removing the breast. “What cut would you like? If you haven’t had it before I’d recommend a leg or the breast, the breast tending to have the most meat while the legs are often more moist and delicious.” He wouldn’t wait, pulling out a clean stone plate and putting a leg on it. He would do the same for himself, taking a leg and a wing, as well as part of the breast, some of the grapes, cheese and bread. He would silently give appreciation to his ancestors and his parents, and then take a grape and crush it between his teeth, enjoying the juicy fruit. “This is a rare treat in the desert indeed. When I was surviving by myself in the sands I often ate cactus fruit, which is more bitter.”

(80 EXP)

Kara watched on in horror as Kensai took the crystal goblet in hand and immediately crushed it. She wasn’t worried about the glass, that was easy enough to replace, but she had clearly underestimated the strength of the samurai in front of her. She graciously accepted the man’s apology, accepting the quite full glass of wine as a means to even out the portions. He was certainly charming in his own way, and always full of surprises it seemed. “I’m not worried about the glass Kensai dear, I should have warned you. I’m more concerned about your hand, if you’d let me I can heal that up for you, won’t take but a minute.” She sincerely hoped he’d let her heal him, a hand wound likely wouldn’t make for an easy time wielding a weapon. And she didn’t see it healing especially quickly or well with only a torn bit of his robe as a bandage.

She would chuckle as he kept hold of the bottle, had she been thinking she would have brought two bottles. Next time. “Perhaps more difficult to break, though most people I know couldn’t break one of those glasses with their bare hands. As much as I regret that you’ve been injured I must say I am strangely impressed, that is some considerable strength you have.” As he spoke of not poisoning her she was both relieved and more concerned. She’d never personally had food poisoning but it seemed as though he had, and it looked as though it was an unpleasant memory for him. She prayed he’d cooked the bird thoroughly. It was difficult for her to watch him pull the meat from the cooked carcass, was she expected to do that? Beyond being disgusting it looked hot, and she didn’t want to injure her hands as they were her livelihood afterall. As he described the different ‘cuts’ of meat she fought her gag reflex when he mentioned how ‘moist’ the leg was. That was such an awful word, and even more disturbing given the context and her general loathing of meat products for food. Just as she was about to make a decision she saw her choice was made for her. Leg it was. Taking a deep breath she would take the plate with the meat on it and pile some grapes and bread on it, pouring a small amount of honey on the bread.

With her plate settled in her lap she sat curled daintily, both legs pointed off to the left under her large skirts. Were it not for the setting it may have been a picture worth painting, a samurai and a lady sharing a nice picnic meal. She had no cutlery, the meal she had brought had not required any, so she saw no other option but to gingerly tear off a piece of the dark and ‘moist’ meat with her fingers. Taking the small piece of meat between two fingers she would place it inside her mouth and chew thoughtfully, trying her best to not imagine cadavers while she did so. Once she had chewed and swallowed she quaffed easily half her glass, and did an admirable job of not appearing completely traumatized. “That was interesting. Thank you for sharing it with me, I hope it does not offend for me not to finish it.” She would look up at Kensai pleadingly, she felt bound by social niceties but was not sure she could eat anymore without keeping it down. “I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten cactus fruit, although I may have and simply not known it’s name. Actually that’s more likely, I’m woefully inadequate when it comes to the art of cooking.”

When Kara offered to heal his hand he would passively dismiss it with a brushing away gesture, using the injured hand to show it wasn’t an issue. He would take another swig from the bottle, which realistically did not contain enough drink to actually effect him. He had an impressive constitution and because of that he had a very high alcohol tolerance level, along with many other benefits that come with such a thing, but he also enjoyed the taste of the drink. He would eat his cuts of bird, and when Kara had said she was finished with hers he would take it and it it as well, not wishing to be wasteful. He would look at the remaining meat on the carcass and excuse himself for a second, taking it to a woman who lived nearby with children so that they could have it, before returning to Kara.

“So. How did you find my home here? Who sold me out?” His face would suddenly grow serious as he would give the woman a stern look for several seconds before relaxing and chuckling to himself at his joke...he was hilarious after all. “Does it disturb you to see how the other half lives? How people like myself and the rest of the people in these slums live in piles of rubble, using strips from our clothes to tend to our wounds, hiding things under rocks to make sure they don’t grow legs and walk away? The caravan was akin to luxury compared to this. There are times when I miss it, but I am unable to return to that life, and unfortunately, everything fell apart here. I’ve found a new life though...I protect these people from those who wish them harm, and try to make the world a better place.

“With the resources and knowledge you have at your disposal you have no idea how much of a difference you could make in their lives. You really can’t begin to comprehend how even a portion of your wealth, or a clinic where you heal the sick, or just bringing food to these people would improve their lives. I beg you to think on this.” He would pull out his tin of cigarettes, still picking at some of the fruit, lighting it and drawing deep into his lungs.

(90 exp)

As Kensai refused her help with a wave of his hand she found herself having to squash down her annoyance. Combatants, they had this frustrating habit of thinking that somehow proper health care was a weakness. What she was suggesting would be incredibly simple, no tools required. Three hand seals and the healing energy that came from her palms would take care of the rest. Just a few moments of time and it would be as if he’d never cut his hand at all. Ah well, she thought it will heal well enough on its own, probably.

When he asked who had sold him out, a look of concern would cross her face. It took her a few moments to realize he was joking, but in those moments she became genuinely frightened of what it would mean to have ‘sold out’ the battle hardened samurai in front of her. “You have me worried for a minute there.” She chuckled nervously as she spoke. “In truth I merely described your appearance and I was pointed in this general direction.”

Kara was relieved when he took the meat from her, at least she wouldn’t have to pretend to enjoy it. Had he grilled vegetables or some other thing she would have been more than happy to eat her fill. She was glad to see he seemed to understand, and that her unwillingness to eat the food was not because of any status or anything. When Kensai took the remainder of the meat out of the area she would wait patiently and look around observing what appeared to be his ‘home’. Her eyes would widen as he confirmed her suspicions, there was no way someone could live like this; it wasn’t right. His pleading for her to be more charitable to the masses almost made her laugh at the irony. Of all the people she had observed in the last two days, it was Kensai that she truly felt was in the greatest need of that compassion. “I will think on your plea, my parents were philanthropists of a sort, and I was thinking that I may open a clinic in my home until such time as I have another option at my disposal. Follow in my parents footsteps to some degree, although I have no desire to travel the desert continuously as they do.” She would drink more of her wine, enjoying the chill of it while it lasted in the quickly warming day. “I also have a spare room in my home, and I would be honored if you would take it. You would be more than welcome to live there until such time as you found something you found more suitable. I am a generally very quiet person, though if I do open a clinic that wouldn’t quite be true during the day. And it would be nice to have the company.”


(Training D-Rank Healing Hands with permission. 502 words of 100 needed.)

She mentioned that she was considering starting a clinic in her house, which of course was a start. He would have to help her to push that plan into action and make sure that there was no way she was going to give up on it. When she offered him a room in her house he frowned, more reactionary than anything. He let the frown fade as he began to think on the proposal, realizing this was likely the best way he would be able to make sure she would stay on track. He would nod his approval to the idea, looking towards his pile of rocks that he had called him home for the past year and moving to dig out his sack, his weapons, and his blanket.

“Your offer is most generous, and I graciously and humbly accept. I’m easy to move, all of my possessions are here with me now. I am a simple man with simple needs, a bit of space to meditate and a place to train. I will likely not be home much anyway, as when I’m not training or sleeping, I’m often doing jobs for the village. I will repay this kindness to you, worry not...friend.” He would ponder the use of that last word for a second, trying to think if this was the kind of person he really wanted to have as a friend, but he figured they would have some time to figure that out together.

“This has been a pleasant lunch. If you don’t mind I will distribute the rest among the poor before we make leave of this place. A home is not so easily left or forgotten after all.”

(100exp)

As Kensai gathered up his ‘belongings’ she kept the same friendly look on her face, making sure to hide the horror at the sum of said belongings. She felt as though she had thought this very thing many times during this interlude but she wondered how a person could possibly survive with so little to keep them comfortable. Surely he had more things, a pack stashed somewhere with food or more clothing or a cup? She knew she was likely wrong, Kensai seemed the type that what you saw was what you got, and he certainly didn’t seem the type to play any type of subterfuge. She was pleased that he accepted her offer of a place to stay, she hadn’t been sure he would as she saw him frown at the suggestion. When he called her ‘friend’ she would beam widely, the word had a pleasing ring to it and the thought warmed her heart.

With a moderate amount of effort she would rise as gracefully as she could from her seat on the blanket. It was made decidedly more difficult by the heels she wore, perhaps something she would need to remedy in the future if she intended to be more comfortable in this village. Once she was standing she would smooth the wrinkles out of her skirts and gesture to Kensai’s things and the remaining food. “We could go whenever you’re ready, and I don’t mind at all. It would be a shame for perfectly good food to go to waste. I’ll show you to my home and help you get settled if you like Kensai dear. I hope it will be to your liking, there is a yard for training if that’s what you wish and as for myself I am quite quiet so virtually anywhere I’m sure would work for meditation.” She would begin packing up the remaining food into the basket, save for the meat which she left in his capable hands.

Kensai would take the basket from the woman and move to distribute the contents of it among the people who needed it, whether she stayed with him or not. He would track her Ki, so that if she left he would still be able to find her when he went back to her house. The grateful looks on the faces of the children as their parents told them to thank him, and the simple happiness he brought to each of them made him smile. He would almost miss living among these people, but he would be able to continue making it his life’s goal to help them, and might have more success in doing so from his new position. Kara was a wealthy and resourceful woman, and if he could turn her around, she could do tremendous good for this world...

{Exit}

Chakra – 109.5/110
(110 exp)

Kara was pleased with how the luncheon had gone, for the most part. Having to eat the bird was less than enjoyable, but with strength of will and a fair amount of alcohol that would be soon forgotten. She would wait as Kensai passed out the remaining food to the people in the area, she still wasn’t quite sure why it mattered so much to him but she endeavored to understand. She could see the smiles of the people, especially the children, as he handed out their leftovers. It was a similar feeling she imagined to what she felt when she was able to cure one of her patients. Partially she felt genuine empathy and happiness and a smaller more reserved part felt that she was somewhat of a better person for her philanthropy. Once Kensai was finished she would lead him back to her home and show him to his room. The arrangement would be interesting, but fruitful for both of them.

{Exit Thread}