Across Lands: Chapter 8
Title: Across Lands
------> Chapter 8
Author: Aquarius Galuxy
Fandom: Power Stone
Pairing: Ryoma/Rouge
Fiction type: Fanfiction, prose (can be treated as original fiction)
Genre: Erotica, Romance, Adventure (in that order)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6,836
Summary: When the threads of fate entangle a fortune teller and a samurai, lives and priorities are changed. An inevitable journey across the lands awaits, filled with hazards and defeat, along with a spontaneous attraction that deepens into something more.
Author's Notes: First half of the original Chapter 8. I decided to split it into two to seemingly slow things down.. Though it's a slow chapter in itself. This pushes the expected chapter count to 11.
Rouge awoke to stiff joints and the prickling feel of being watched. Instinctively, she pressed closer to the source of warmth that had been her support, slowly cracking her eyes open to gather her bearings. It appeared that she had fallen asleep sitting upright the night before, in a sparse green forest, against an extraordinarily soft, heated tree that had thick navy roots extending above the ground. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. Those couldn't possibly be roots. There looked to be straw slippers where they ended.
She glanced sharply towards the warmth, only to have a pair of dark eyes meet her own from inches away. Her heart crashed into her ribs. The fortune teller could not tell if her thudding pulse was due to being surprised this early after she woke, or the fact that Ryoma had been watching as she slept. A faint heat crept up her cheeks.
"Morning," she breathed, unable to tear her gaze away from the samurai's eyes. Words mutinied and left her tongue. He did not move an inch. In the shadow of the tree he leaned against, it was impossible to tell if she had imagined his blush. Her attention slipped to his lips, and she wondered if she could kiss him.
"Morning." His voice was rough from the lack of use.
Deciding that it hardly made a difference, Rouge tipped her head up and pressed her lips to his, merely brushing herself against his dry flesh. He felt exquisite nonetheless. A shiver rippled down her spine. "Mm."
"I'm a samurai, Rouge!" The telling pinkness rose on his face, and he leaned back, away from her, replacing the inches between their lips. She gazed fondly at him, relishing his embarrassment. It felt as if the tension from the previous night had ebbed away somehow.
"Does that matter?" She lifted a hand and trailed a finger over his lower lip, recalling his intense gazes from the depths of the jail cell. The feel of his bare skin had been delicious. Her insides warmed with longing. He looked away. The lack of a firmer protest hung in the air, emphasizing how he had not rejected her attention on the basis that he didn't want it.
They had arrived at the forest past midnight, after hours of walking that Rouge was highly unaccustomed to. There had been few words after her outburst, slightly more glances exchanged, and an uneasy warmth that had settled when she yelped at a lizard dashing beneath her foot, and he squeezed her hand. She had hesitated when he sat down against a sturdy tree for the night, flushed when he looked expectantly up at her, uncharacteristically shy at his silent offer. It had been awkward bedding down with him, knowing full well the distrust he was capable of feeling. Neither knew when the other had eventually dozed off.
"I have my training to think about!" Ryoma eased away from her, keeping his gaze to the side. "Now that we're in Moonland, I'll have to pay a visit to my sensei and my mother. It will be especially disgraceful of me to neglect my duties as a samurai while in my homeland."
"All right." Rouge drew away from the swordsman reluctantly, gazing at him. Being with him like this sent joy bubbling in her middle. She reached for her satchel, offering the man her pouch of water. He accepted it and drank thirstily. "How long will it take us to get there?"
"Roughly four days at the pace we've been going." He licked his lips to moisten them, then took another swig.
"We're short on gold right now. Wouldn't it be easier if we stayed with your mother while you recover?" Rouge admired the planes of his face, watching his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed.
Ryoma choked and sputtered.
Hurriedly, she pulled him forward and thumped on his back, frowning worriedly while the man coughed, his eyes watering. When that didn't help, she took the pouch from him and pounded harder on his back.
"Don't... mention... that again." He punctuated each pause with a hack, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Why?" Rouge offered him the pouch again, but he refused it with a shake of his head. She brought it to her lips and relieved her own thirst. They would have to find a clear stream or a well sometime soon - their supplies would not last longer than a day.
"It's... well, awkward. She'd ask questions." He glanced briefly at her. "Besides, she doesn't have a large place, just a tiny cottage and a huge garden for her flowers."
"Oh, right," the fortune teller mumbled, remembering that they were not in any form of a relationship. Ryoma had not even made it explicit that he felt what she did. Her cheer sank by a notch. "I suppose we can't board at your sensei's dojo either?"
He shook his head vigorously, crossing his legs and straightening. "Like you, I'm not supposed to spend copious amounts of time with the opposite gender. Sensei would be displeased if I were to show up with you." He returned his gaze to her, eyes widening in realisation. "We should leave soon, before Neros is onto our trail."
Breakfast was consumed in a hurry. It was roughly seven in the morning then, and the sparse trees brimmed quietly with wildlife. Making sure that no trail was left behind, the pair started further into the forest, where the vegetation thickened and the land sloped upwards in a gentle incline. It was another while before the trickle of water filtered through the evergreen trees.
Rouge shifted her path closer to the samurai's, slipping her hand into his. The gesture was hardly necessary, but it comforted her to be in contact with his warmth; he radiated unconditional protection. Ryoma's heat seemed to spread into her hand and through her whole body.
He glanced obliquely at her, squirming in his step. A little grin quirked the corners of her lips. "You can't do that once we meet other people, Rouge."
"I know." The man's credibility as a warrior would stumble if he were to be seen having any scandalous dealings with women; his reputation wasn't enough to override that. She took a quick step towards him, leaning in and brushing a fleeting kiss over his lips. He drew a quick breath. This was scandalous. "But no one sees us while we're in the middle of a forest."
He blushed.
-x-
It had taken exactly four days to reach the small town of Mutsu. Over the course of their journey, Rouge and Ryoma had kept away from the inhabited areas of Moonland, remaining instead in the forested hills. Their retreat served two purposes; being in an uncivilized place made it far more difficult for the Oracle to track their exact location, and they were running dangerously low on funds. Due to their constant travel, there had not been sufficient time for either of them to scout for jobs. Lodging in an inn would have been an unnecessary drain on their resources. Their supplies from Ganna had long since run out.
Thus, they had only ventured out into towns and villages when food was necessary. Ryoma had fished successfully in streams on multiple occasions, reducing the strain on their pool of money. At other times, he had busied himself with his sword practice, taking care not to aggravate his injuries. Rouge had managed to mend the tears in his clothing. The lack of people around had made it easier for laundry to be done without much awkwardness. Above all, Ryoma had been surprised by how the woman had refrained from touching him intimately, only stealing the occasional searing kiss. Their camaraderie had thereupon deepened.
On the fifth day, they made it to Mutsu, Ryoma's birth town. Against a backdrop of verdant hills and rich blue skies, the neat rows of double-storeyed buildings were peaceful and quaint. What stood out most had to be the sloping, ceramic-tiled roofs and the large wooden windows, each with thin paper stretched across horizontal and vertical wooden strips. The shops and houses looked to be built purely of wood; wide sliding doors were flanked by paper-covered windows on either side. Colourful, printed signboards stood over the open entrances of shops, beckoning the townsfolk who milled about the streets.
With the onset of summer, the usual dress of the residents was the yukata, a casual cotton robe that stretched loosely to the wrists and ankles, bound around the waist by a thick sash. Hardly a single person paid mind to the samurai's intricate clothes, but heads were discreetly turned when Rouge stepped alongside Ryoma through the wide unpaved streets.
"So, where are we headed first, Ryoma? There are supplies to be replenished, lodging to be sought, and two different people to visit. Not to mention, your sword practice, and our meals for the day." The fortune teller took her time to admire the intricate buildings, thinking back on the months she had travelled through Moonland years ago. The buildings and people had hardly changed. It would not be difficult setting up a table for fortune telling here. Unlike Mahdad, no crisis had altered Ryoma's hometown. "This place is beautiful."
"It sure is." She glanced at the samurai, spotting a soft, happy glow to his countenance that perked her spirits. He looked especially endearing that way. Rouge unwillingly kept the respectful distance between them both. "I was thinking that a visit to my mother first might be in order... Though perhaps it- it'll be better if you don't come along for this, Rouge."
"Why not?" The fortune teller returned her gaze to him, catching the nervous edge to his voice. "Surely your mother isn't that ferocious a woman?"
"N-no, she isn't, but I haven't seen her in over two years. Having you with me on my visit might... give her ideas..." Ryoma averted his eyes, slowly leading them towards the outer edge of the town. His cheeks coloured slightly. "If I remember correctly, there should be an affordable inn around here that we could stay at. You could take a look at it while I drop by her cottage..."
"Oh, come on, it's not like we have a chance of being married," she teased lightly, then regretted it the second after. Not being able to spend the rest of her future with Ryoma meant that she was going to be seeing him for a last time. She could not bear to think of him leaving. Her chest tightened. "Forget I said that."
The man turned his head to look at her, lips parting at her change in tone. She glanced away. It would not do to let him know of her bitterness. He seemed to grow faintly agitated then, stuttering, "W-Well, I'm sure my mother w-wouldn't mind having another visitor over... Y-You did say to pretend, didn't you, Rouge?"
She almost forgot to walk then. Her eyes widened, and she stared at him mutely, surprised that he had remembered, and had even volunteered the idea. Her heart fluttered. "Y-Yes, I did."
"Would- Would you like to visit my mother with me, in that case? I- I'm sure she'll be glad to have you over." The samurai looked away, his cheeks a tinge of red. Rouge wished she could hug him then, instead glancing fondly at him, wondering if any of the townsfolk had noticed their behaviour.
"Mm, sure."
Houses on the outskirts of Mutsu were generally small; the wealthy owned large buildings and districts across the town, while the farmers and lower classes found it more affordable to reside closer to the forests and fields, in little wooden cottages that had the same paper-and-wood windows. Children in simple attire yelled friendly greetings at each other; some helped out in their yards, while others crouched around traditional wooden tops spinning on the packed dirt ground.
Ryoma stopped at one straw-roofed house in particular, which had a tiny wooden porch before its doors. Past the picket fence, a garden of flowers stretched between the dirt path and the porch, filled with bright flowers - pinks, yellows, reds and purples - most of them in various stages of bloom. There was a diminutive woman settled on the porch, dressed in a pastel pink yukata, her legs folded beneath her, wavy black hair rippling past her thin shoulders. She had a small decorative vase before her, and a bundle of flower stalks in a scattered pile next to her knees. The female looked up at their steady approach.
"Ryoma!" She sprung to her feet and rushed forward, pausing just to slip her feet into wooden slippers, before hurrying down the dirt path through her flowers, stopping behind her wooden gate breathlessly. With a curious glance at Rouge, she eased the gate open, ushering them in, her large eyes scanning over her son, lingering over his face. "Ryoma, you've grown so much! What brings you here, and who's this beautiful lady here?"
She couldn't have been past her mid-thirties, Rouge realised. Ryoma's mother was very pretty for her age, with a child-like attractiveness in her large black eyes and high cheekbones. There was a slight glow to her face now, not unlike that on her son's features when they had first arrived. The flower seller led them into her house, shutting the wooden doors behind them and gesturing to the low pine-wood table in the middle of the tatami flooring.
Bright sunlight filtered through the thin paper windows, illuminating the woven rectangular straw mats that covered the floor of the room. It was very slightly larger than Ganna's shack, and far emptier. A gap between the sliding doors on the far end of the room revealed a silver wind chime, which sent the barest of tinkles through the house with each breeze. A tall vase stood at one corner, filled with an exquisite arrangement of flowers. Some feet away, an old sword was mounted on the wall. Closer to the door was a framed picture, full of green and orange and black, that Rouge could not make out even when she stared hard at it.
They found themselves seated formally across Ryoma's mother - Ryoma with his legs crossed, and Rouge with hers folded to the side. It seemed highly uncomfortable to be positioned the way the older woman was, with her feet tucked demurely beneath her. Rouge squirmed under her hostess's appraising stare, returning the gaze nevertheless. Perhaps she should not have intruded on the samurai's reunion with his mother. Did the woman disapprove of her revealing clothes? It was uncharacteristic of her to be self-conscious before the man's family.
She offered a low bow, as was the custom in Moonland, clenching her fists nervously. "I'm pleased to meet you, Ma'am. My name is Rouge."
"The pleasure is mine, Rouge! Do address me as Yuka for now." Ryoma's mother smiled amiably at her, large black eyes crinkling.
'For now'?
"Ryoma, you haven't answered my question - why are you back in Moonland? I'm delighted that you've finally brought a girl home!" The flower seller turned towards her son, gazing lovingly at him, before sliding Rouge a pointed glance.
Rouge blinked. There had to be something she was missing out on. The man blushed and shook his head vigorously, forcing a laugh. "It's not like that, Mother, I'm only nineteen! Rouge and I are just good friends. We're in Moonland on a short task before we leave again."
Then it clicked. Yuka thought her son had brought a prospective wife home. Her? Ryoma's wife? As ridiculous as the idea was, such a thought thrilled her, if only for a few seconds. Her cheeks pinkened. "No, you've got it wrong, Yuka. I'm just a fortune teller from Moonland, and Ryoma has been helping me on my journey-"
"Oh." Gloom seemed to settle on the flower seller. She stared between them both. Her lips pulled into a pout. Next to Rouge, the samurai squirmed. Yuka perked up then, turning to the younger woman. "You tell fortunes?"
"Yes, I do." Rouge allowed a smile to creep up her lips, glad for the change of topic. Ryoma visibly sagged as well. She slid her crystal ball out of her satchel, placing it on the wooden table. In the filtered light of the room, the sphere seemed to distort the images within itself. "Would you like a reading, Yuka? I'm better at personal fortunes."
"Please, if you would be so kind to." The excited sparkle in those large eyes made her wonder if fortune telling with a crystal ball had been done in this town at all. Mother and son both stared at her polished globe, watching as she hovered her hands around it, relaxing her spirit and letting her gaze lose focus. It felt as if the room had darkened slightly when the crystal ball glowed a slight blue, images taking shape within it.
"I see a bright light in your future. Someone will appear, who will lead you to great happiness. I can't say for sure who he is, but he is slowly approaching."
The vision faded, and so did the glow and darkness, leaving Yuka staring mutely at her. She blinked, returning her attention to Ryoma. The rarest of smiles quirked his lips. "You did it again, Rouge! You're one terrific fortune teller, you!"
Rouge swallowed and blushed under his gaze, her pulse destabilising at his smile. He probably had forgotten that his mother was watching. She avoided both their eyes, knowing that Yuka probably suspected something between them.
"You do seem very taken by the girl, Son." The flower seller slanted her gaze over to her kin, an amused smile curving her lips.
The samurai lost his grin immediately, staring at the table in a mimic of Rouge. The colour on his cheeks was enough to rival a tomato. "N-no, you've got it all w-wrong, M-Mother. I was just- uh, I was just complimenting Rouge because she's a... a special friend..."
She wanted to bury herself in a hole beneath the straw mat. Or at the very least, hide her face. Taking a deep breath, the fortune teller gazed straight at the woman across the table, bravely gesturing at the painting on the wall. It would spare Ryoma of his embarrassment, at least. "That is a very nice abstract painting, Yuka."
The older woman looked between them oddly, inducing more squirms. At length, she finally responded, "That's Ryoma's painting of a tiger."
With a low groan, the samurai covered his face with a hand. Rouge bit back a giggle.
Yuka went on to reminisce about Ryoma's childhood, keeping the blush on his cheeks ever present while Rouge overcame her awkwardness and laughed along with the woman's memories. Neither had refused when the older woman bade them to lunch. Ryoma had been keen on the thought of home-cooked food - fried fish and a sweet omelette on sticky rice, as well as miso soup, which was a mixture of hot water and fermented soybean paste. To the fortune teller's amazement, there was a kitchen hidden behind one of the sliding doors, that Yuka prepared their meals in, after politely declining her offer of help. The samurai had told her that his mother's room was behind another such door. He did not have his own space here - he had been residing at his sensei's dojo when his mother's home was constructed.
Their conversation with Yuka had resumed after the meal, touching on more memories and the swordsman's travels. Rouge found out that Ryoma's decision to become a samurai had been born when some thugs had upset Yuka's flower stall shortly after his father's passing. He had sworn to grow stronger then, to protect his mother from harm. Throughout the narration of the man's childhood, she had felt herself growing more affectionate towards him, almost understanding the shine in his mother's eyes.
It was with great reluctance on Rouge's part that their attention returned to Ryoma's and her purpose in Moonland. Like Ganna, Yuka had been shocked to hear about the pirates. The flower seller had been keener on her son's injuries than his triumph over Kraken, but Ryoma had refused to show her the extent of them, shrugging the matter off by telling her how Rouge had been tending to his wounds. It earned him another poignant look that sent him squirming.
The pair was only allowed to leave an hour after dinner, when dusk had fallen, and the noises from the children had died down. Yuka had coerced promises of future visits from them with her innocent, pleading eyes, and was bidding them a good night from her wooden porch.
"Where will you be lodging while you're here, Ryoma?" she asked as they stepped onto the dirt path.
"Probably a small inn nearby," the man responded confidently, readying himself to leave. "The meals were delicious, Mother! I'm glad I came home."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Yuka." Rouge smiled and offered a small bow. Talking to Ryoma's mother had not turned out to be as dreadful as she had expected. "Thank you for your kind hospitality."
"You're very welcome." The flower seller waved them off, placing a quick hand on Rouge's shoulder the moment her son turned. She leaned down, so that her face was inches from the younger woman's. The latter paused in surprise. "Drop by the day after tomorrow, Rouge. Preferably sometime in the afternoon?"
She nodded mutely, glancing at Ryoma. He seemed to have been unaware of their exchange.
"Don't tell my son about this." Yuka sent her a winning smile, patting her shoulder and drawing back. Stunned with the sudden realisation that Ryoma's mother wanted to speak with her, Rouge caught up with the samurai in a daze, just as he turned. The lingering anxiety that she thought had been vanquished started to spread its tendrils into her again. She did not dare look back until they had rounded a corner, catching a glimpse of the petite woman on her porch as she watched them leave.
Ryoma stopped before a quiet inn ten minutes later. Yellow light splayed across the doorway, streaming from lamps behind the paper windows. Two heavy pieces of white cloth hung from the upper edge of the door, covering a third of the entrance and veiling the interior of the establishment. It was quiet within. They exchanged a glance; Rouge stepped forward, lifting one of the pieces of cloth away and entering the inn. The samurai followed behind her.
"Welcome!" The greeting sounded to the side. A plain wooden counter was docked to the right of the entrance, attended to by a balding man in his forties. He bowed as they entered, glancing between the pair, as if waiting for either to speak first.
Despite its limited size, the establishment was a homey place, with a small sitting area to the left of the doorway, comprising of a table on a large woven rug and short chairs surrounding it. Vases of flowers stood at the corners of the sitting area, similar to that in Yuka's cottage. A foldable wooden partition separated the guests' area from the rooms. Steep wooden stairs were tucked at the end of the counter, utilised by the occasional guest.
"I would like to know the rates for the smallest room available here," Rouge stated evenly, turning towards the man at the counter.
"Twenty gold a night, Miss. That includes breakfast for two." He did not seem the least bit surprised at her question, nor at her dressing, instead keeping his gaze respectfully on her face.
She glanced briefly at the samurai, mentally balancing their funds. They would have sufficient gold for five days' food and lodging, after which, any more money needed would have to be earned. Receiving no visible objection from Ryoma, she turned back to the man, presumably the owner of the inn, reaching for her purse. "We'll be paying for five days' lodging up-front, and any subsequent fees on a daily basis. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, it is," the innkeeper replied with a nod and a friendly smile, jotting her words down on a piece of paper, before reaching for a key beneath the counter. Rouge lay their payment out on the flat wooden surface. He verified the amount, then handed the key over. "Room Six is right at the end of the corridor; the baths can be accessed by the passage on the left. Breakfast is served in the dining room from six to nine every morning. I hope that you'll both have a pleasant stay."
Room Six was no larger than Yuka's living room. Tatami flooring stretched from corner to corner, the woven straw soft beneath their feet. Golden light beams extended from the gas lamp that Rouge had lit, illuminating half their rented space. A couple of pillows and futon lay rolled up to a side, each consisting of a thin mattress and a thick quilt, to be laid out when necessary. At the far end of the room, a polished table was set close to the paper window, with two folded yukata neatly placed on it.
Rouge relieved herself of her bag, turning to the samurai. Within the four walls of the room, the stress of maintaining their unfamiliarity had melted away, leaving them as they were before. He was standing at the edge of the lamp's glow, inspecting the table at the far end. Before he could move, she had slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him to herself, pressing her chest to his back. The warmth and strength emanating from his body blanketed her thoroughly, and she closed her eyes, nuzzling into his shoulder. It was bittersweet being with him like this. Ryoma smelled sweaty and male.
"Rouge?" He shifted in her arms.
"Hmm?" She leaned her weight into him, wanting to just hold him this close and not let go. Her fingers strummed against his chest, smoothing over hard, clothed muscle. It was a matter of seconds before her hand had slipped into his kimono top, softly caressing his bandaged torso. It had been days since she last got her fill of him, and her body hungered for more. "I missed you, Ryoma."
He squirmed, his blood heating at her warmth, recalling the softness of her flesh from days before. Her light touch had sent sparks careening down his nerves, through the cotton around his chest. It was maddening that his body reacted so strongly to her caresses, when he had only gone without it for a few days. Her lips trailed down his neck, and his breath hitched. His pulse quickened. Before he was aware of it, his vest and kimono top had slid off his body, hanging limply by his waist as Rouge drew hot lines of fire down his skin with her fingers. Heat pooled in his loins; he shivered at her contact, torn between wanting more and refusing her.
The fortune teller pulled away with a low purr, deftly undoing the firm bandages around his body. He blinked and took deep breaths to calm his arousal, missing her warmth. Did she do that just to remove his dressings?
Warm air brushed over his back when she had freed him, leaving only the slow pressure of a fingertip over his skin. He felt her gaze on him, languid and intense. She traced his itching scabs with her touch. "You shouldn't need to be bandaged anymore, Ryoma. Your wounds are healing up nicely now."
He felt her press her soft lips to his back, between his shoulder blades. It sharpened his awareness of her, sent his blood humming. Ryoma turned, steeling himself to ask why she held back. The woman was a seductive silhouette against the lamplight.
Then she eased herself in front of him, cupping his face and bringing his lips to hers, softly welcoming them with light caresses and tugs that hazed his thoughts. She pulled so sensuously on his lips that he gave in to the sensation, his heart thumping with renewed want. His lips parted without her request, and she delved into his mouth, meeting him hungrily, tasting him. A foggy part of his mind recognised that she was all he could think of, but he was more interested in the way her tongue stroked his, her fervour telling him how much she had been anticipating this through the day. She moaned softly into his lips. He stopped breathing; his flesh grew stiff at her utterance.
Just as suddenly as she had begun, Rouge broke away, leaving them both gasping wetly for breath. She smiled at him, her lips moist with their kiss. His chest tightened at her dark eye and contented grin. It felt as if he should think of something to say, but his mind drew a blank.
"Change into your yukata and take your bath, Ryoma. It'll help you relax." The fortune teller picked one of the robes off the table and pressed it into his hands, angling a smile up at him. "Save the sword practice for tomorrow."
Ryoma realised how much he appreciated the woman then.
-x-
Yuka was sitting at her porch again two days later. A fresh bundle of flowers were scattered to her right, slowly being fed into the squat, round vase she cradled in her left hand. She looked up and smiled as Rouge approached, getting up to allow the latter into her compounds as she had done before.
"Good afternoon, Rouge. I knew you'd come!" The older woman clasped her hand and bowed once she had passed the gate, locks of her wavy hair slipping forward to frame her youthful face.
She smiled at Yuka's warmth, returning the bow. The flower seller's harmless countenance wore away at her misgivings. It would not be a surprise if there were men still keen on her at this age. "Good afternoon, Yuka. It's nice to meet you again."
Ryoma's mother led her to the porch, settling next to her flowers. At Rouge's hesitation, she petted the wooden flooring beside her, indicating that the fortune teller have a seat. Silence hung between them for moments while Yuka picked her vase up, resuming her arrangement of the colour-tipped stalks. Rouge allowed her calves to hang over the edge of the porch, clasping her hands in her lap, watching her hostess from the corner of her eye. There could only be one real purpose why Yuka had invited her over.
"How are you settling into Mutsu, Rouge?" Yuka slid her an amiable look, before snipping the stem of a flower with a pair of scissors, fitting it back into her pot.
"I'm doing rather well, thank you. The people here seem to be very interested in how the crystal ball reads their fortunes." It was true. She had rented a couple of chairs and a table from one of the stalls in the marketplace, spending most of her free time telling fortunes while Ryoma was occupied with his training or running errands. When business drew into a lull, she would bring him a fruit or a drink to keep him refreshed. "I'm just glad to be able to tell fortunes again in Moonland."
"I see. What about Ryoma? He does not know of your visit, does he?" Yuka paused in her flower arrangement, turning towards Rouge. Her heart quickened under the woman's attention. She spoke slowly, to prevent herself from making a slip.
"Ryoma is steadily recovering. He was sufficiently healed for the bandages to be removed two days ago." Rouge allowed herself a moment to relish the memory of their kiss that night. "I didn't tell him of the visit. He's training with his swords now, and is under the impression that I'm taking a walk around the town."
Yuka nodded, smiling gently at the positive news of her son. There was another pause, before she looked out towards the rest of the town, over her flower garden. "About that prediction you did for me the other day... Is it possible for me to have more detail regarding that?"
"I'm afraid not, Yuka, and I'm sorry about it." She caught a glimpse of uncertainty in the older woman's eyes. It was an expression that was common throughout her travels, when the readings sounded perhaps too good to be true. "The crystal ball only gives a certain amount of information at any one point in time."
"That's fine with me. I don't blame you for it, Rouge." Ryoma's mother returned her gaze to her vase of flowers, selecting another stalk. "You're aware of the reason I asked you over, are you not?"
"Yes, I am." Rouge bit her lip and swallowed, her heartbeats picking up. It was strange that she should be this nervous. After all, Ryoma had no place in her future. The sooner Yuka knew the truth, the sooner she could get over any grievances she might have.
"You are interested in my son."
Her heart missed a beat. She nodded mutely, not quite knowing what to fix her eyes on.
"I've seen the way you look at him, Rouge. You have feelings for him, don't you? Deep ones." Another nod, coupled with a blush. How could the woman deduce so much just by observing her? "And I'm glad for that. When he left Moonland at seventeen, all he was keen on were his swords. Ryoma probably doesn't remember my telling him that he'll need a wife, to take care of him in his old age, and to continue the family line."
Her cheeks flamed. Her? Bearing Ryoma's children? It was something so intimate and implausible that it had never crossed her mind. "Y-You aren't suggesting that-"
"What are your intentions towards him?" Yuka cast another smile at her, full of motherly pride at the memory of her son.
"I... I don't know." Wasn't she supposed to be pretending that her future didn't exist? Why did it have to haunt her even when she had left her homeland? Rouge glanced at the samurai's mother, seeing the satisfied expectancy on her features. It would come crashing down soon, and she hated to be the one causing it. "I can't be his wife."
"Why not? I saw how you've mended his clothes. No man sews that neatly." Yuka's expression was riddled with surprise and confusion. Her hand had paused in the middle of placing a flower. "You've been caring for him like a wife does!"
Amidst the growing knot in her chest, Rouge flushed again, the receding crimson surging back into her cheeks. She didn't want to imagine a future with Ryoma. It had hurt too badly. "Yuka- what Ryoma didn't tell you was that m-my destiny is to become an Oracle in Fireland. I can't marry, and cannot have children because of that."
"But- But Ryoma likes you."
Her chest tightened. The flesh behind her eyes warmed. Rouge looked down at her hands, biting her lip to stop it from quivering. It had not been as painful when no one had pointed it out. Without anyone's affirmation, she could still have walked away thinking that it was something she could have easily given up on. Different memories flashed across her eyes, of the man blushing, of him smiling, of his taut gazes. Her heart throbbed miserably. She took a deep breath. "I... wish things were different."
Yuka set her vase aside and lay a hand on her clasped fists, squeezing them lightly. From the corner of her eye, Rouge saw a motherly compassion surface on her countenance. "Do you love him?"
Rouge shook her head, trying to untangle the mess of emotions in her chest. Did she love him? "I don't know either. Sometimes I like him so much it hurts. It's- It's better that I don't attempt to be in his future - he is a very good fighter, Yuka. You should be proud of him." She hesitated. "He's killed for me once before."
"He has? Under what circumstances?" The older woman patted her hand comfortingly and stared straight at her, raising her head in surprise.
"One of the pirates attacked me." Rouge watched her warily. It felt as if Yuka had more to say.
"Was the pirate armed?"
"He wasn't wielding a weapon, no."
"Ryoma hasn't told you, has he? His honour does not allow him to attack someone unless there is a good reason to, and only if his opponent is capable of fighting back." The flower seller paused to let her words sink in. Rouge turned and stared at her, her eyes widening. Had Ryoma sacrificed his honour for her? "By killing an unarmed man for your sake, he had to have viewed the man's actions so heinous that it justified taking his life without giving him a chance to fight. You're important to him, Rouge."
"I-" She blushed, her heart missing a beat. Understanding Ryoma's motivations had only made her grow fonder of him. But even so, there was nothing she could do now. "I'm sorry for not being able to fulfil your expectations, Yuka."
"It's beyond your control, Rouge. Thank you for taking such good care of Ryoma." The older woman smiled wistfully at her, raven eyes soft with empathy. She tried to return the gesture. "I apologise for being a mood dampener."
Rouge shook her head to indicate that no offense was taken, meeting the older woman's gaze. "It's fine. You're his mother, after all."
"So tell me, have you two kissed?" It was a sudden change in topic, an attempt to lighten the mood. Yuka had done it on goodwill, Rouge knew. But her mind tripped, and she flushed, hurriedly glancing away. This was not a subject one discussed with the man's family.
Under Yuka's interested, friendly attention, Rouge finally surrendered a nod, hoping that her questions did not turn any more personal. "We have."
The flower seller smiled contentedly and picked her vase up, returning to her creation. "Are you aware of Ryoma's fear of spiders?"
"Yes, I am. There was a spider in my tent on one of the first times we met." Rouge breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Ryoma... sprang out of his chair and tried to get it off, but he fell onto me instead."
Yuka chuckled, shedding years from her face. "That isn't the worst he's done, Rouge. Once, when he was seven..."
The samurai's mother started on the worst of his childhood antics, which would have sent his ears burning had he been present, drawing peals of laughter from Rouge over the rest of the afternoon. Ryoma never did find out the reasons for the huge, affectionate hug Rouge had pulled him into that evening.
-x-
"Where have you been?" Neros snapped, tugging on one end of his pointed moustache. His beady eyes homed in on the shadowy, red-dressed figure in the doorway of the Oracle's Temple. Bushy black brows drew into a frown. "Your services have been required since almost two weeks ago!"
"Simple. Get someone else to do the job," Tsurugi drawled, strolling into the main chamber of the temple, his footsteps echoing off the gilded walls. He cast his small eyes about the room, on the alert for any signs of a threat. "What is so important that you had to have messengers hounding me the moment I set foot in this city?"
"Remember Rouge? The girl you brought to me on your last job here? Well, she's gone and escaped to Moonland!" the Oracle spat. "Along with that blasted samurai I locked in with her!"
Tsurugi rolled his eyes. "That isn't any of my business, is it?"
"It is your business because I require you to travel to Moonland and hunt her down. I want her brought back to me alive." Neros rubbed his hands and grinned, chuckling lowly, looking at no one in particular. "Five hundred gold pieces if you bring her to me within the next five days."
"Just five hundred? There is a good deal of travelling involved, and I don't have her exact location." The swordsman folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Seven hundred."
"Five-fifty. She is in a forested place in Moonland."
"Six-fifty. The whole of Moonland is forested."
"Oh, fine. Six hundred gold pieces," Neros grumbled, staring darkly at the swordsman, muttering under his breath. "Do you have an idea where she is?"
"Six hundred it is. If she's with that Akudo Dojo kid, then yes, I do roughly know her location." The hawk-faced fighter looked dully at his employer. "Why the rush, anyway?"
"The sooner she becomes my obedient wife, the sooner I'll secure my place as Oracle!" Neros bared his teeth. "If she doesn't cooperate, tell her that I have held her precious teacher hostage. My men will take care of the old hag easily."
"I understand." Tsurugi turned on his heels, heading back out of the Oracle's Temple, his swords clattering at his side. "Ready my payment. I'll be back in five days."
-x-
------> Chapter 8
Author: Aquarius Galuxy
Fandom: Power Stone
Pairing: Ryoma/Rouge
Fiction type: Fanfiction, prose (can be treated as original fiction)
Genre: Erotica, Romance, Adventure (in that order)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6,836
Summary: When the threads of fate entangle a fortune teller and a samurai, lives and priorities are changed. An inevitable journey across the lands awaits, filled with hazards and defeat, along with a spontaneous attraction that deepens into something more.
Author's Notes: First half of the original Chapter 8. I decided to split it into two to seemingly slow things down.. Though it's a slow chapter in itself. This pushes the expected chapter count to 11.
Rouge awoke to stiff joints and the prickling feel of being watched. Instinctively, she pressed closer to the source of warmth that had been her support, slowly cracking her eyes open to gather her bearings. It appeared that she had fallen asleep sitting upright the night before, in a sparse green forest, against an extraordinarily soft, heated tree that had thick navy roots extending above the ground. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. Those couldn't possibly be roots. There looked to be straw slippers where they ended.
She glanced sharply towards the warmth, only to have a pair of dark eyes meet her own from inches away. Her heart crashed into her ribs. The fortune teller could not tell if her thudding pulse was due to being surprised this early after she woke, or the fact that Ryoma had been watching as she slept. A faint heat crept up her cheeks.
"Morning," she breathed, unable to tear her gaze away from the samurai's eyes. Words mutinied and left her tongue. He did not move an inch. In the shadow of the tree he leaned against, it was impossible to tell if she had imagined his blush. Her attention slipped to his lips, and she wondered if she could kiss him.
"Morning." His voice was rough from the lack of use.
Deciding that it hardly made a difference, Rouge tipped her head up and pressed her lips to his, merely brushing herself against his dry flesh. He felt exquisite nonetheless. A shiver rippled down her spine. "Mm."
"I'm a samurai, Rouge!" The telling pinkness rose on his face, and he leaned back, away from her, replacing the inches between their lips. She gazed fondly at him, relishing his embarrassment. It felt as if the tension from the previous night had ebbed away somehow.
"Does that matter?" She lifted a hand and trailed a finger over his lower lip, recalling his intense gazes from the depths of the jail cell. The feel of his bare skin had been delicious. Her insides warmed with longing. He looked away. The lack of a firmer protest hung in the air, emphasizing how he had not rejected her attention on the basis that he didn't want it.
They had arrived at the forest past midnight, after hours of walking that Rouge was highly unaccustomed to. There had been few words after her outburst, slightly more glances exchanged, and an uneasy warmth that had settled when she yelped at a lizard dashing beneath her foot, and he squeezed her hand. She had hesitated when he sat down against a sturdy tree for the night, flushed when he looked expectantly up at her, uncharacteristically shy at his silent offer. It had been awkward bedding down with him, knowing full well the distrust he was capable of feeling. Neither knew when the other had eventually dozed off.
"I have my training to think about!" Ryoma eased away from her, keeping his gaze to the side. "Now that we're in Moonland, I'll have to pay a visit to my sensei and my mother. It will be especially disgraceful of me to neglect my duties as a samurai while in my homeland."
"All right." Rouge drew away from the swordsman reluctantly, gazing at him. Being with him like this sent joy bubbling in her middle. She reached for her satchel, offering the man her pouch of water. He accepted it and drank thirstily. "How long will it take us to get there?"
"Roughly four days at the pace we've been going." He licked his lips to moisten them, then took another swig.
"We're short on gold right now. Wouldn't it be easier if we stayed with your mother while you recover?" Rouge admired the planes of his face, watching his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed.
Ryoma choked and sputtered.
Hurriedly, she pulled him forward and thumped on his back, frowning worriedly while the man coughed, his eyes watering. When that didn't help, she took the pouch from him and pounded harder on his back.
"Don't... mention... that again." He punctuated each pause with a hack, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Why?" Rouge offered him the pouch again, but he refused it with a shake of his head. She brought it to her lips and relieved her own thirst. They would have to find a clear stream or a well sometime soon - their supplies would not last longer than a day.
"It's... well, awkward. She'd ask questions." He glanced briefly at her. "Besides, she doesn't have a large place, just a tiny cottage and a huge garden for her flowers."
"Oh, right," the fortune teller mumbled, remembering that they were not in any form of a relationship. Ryoma had not even made it explicit that he felt what she did. Her cheer sank by a notch. "I suppose we can't board at your sensei's dojo either?"
He shook his head vigorously, crossing his legs and straightening. "Like you, I'm not supposed to spend copious amounts of time with the opposite gender. Sensei would be displeased if I were to show up with you." He returned his gaze to her, eyes widening in realisation. "We should leave soon, before Neros is onto our trail."
Breakfast was consumed in a hurry. It was roughly seven in the morning then, and the sparse trees brimmed quietly with wildlife. Making sure that no trail was left behind, the pair started further into the forest, where the vegetation thickened and the land sloped upwards in a gentle incline. It was another while before the trickle of water filtered through the evergreen trees.
Rouge shifted her path closer to the samurai's, slipping her hand into his. The gesture was hardly necessary, but it comforted her to be in contact with his warmth; he radiated unconditional protection. Ryoma's heat seemed to spread into her hand and through her whole body.
He glanced obliquely at her, squirming in his step. A little grin quirked the corners of her lips. "You can't do that once we meet other people, Rouge."
"I know." The man's credibility as a warrior would stumble if he were to be seen having any scandalous dealings with women; his reputation wasn't enough to override that. She took a quick step towards him, leaning in and brushing a fleeting kiss over his lips. He drew a quick breath. This was scandalous. "But no one sees us while we're in the middle of a forest."
He blushed.
-x-
It had taken exactly four days to reach the small town of Mutsu. Over the course of their journey, Rouge and Ryoma had kept away from the inhabited areas of Moonland, remaining instead in the forested hills. Their retreat served two purposes; being in an uncivilized place made it far more difficult for the Oracle to track their exact location, and they were running dangerously low on funds. Due to their constant travel, there had not been sufficient time for either of them to scout for jobs. Lodging in an inn would have been an unnecessary drain on their resources. Their supplies from Ganna had long since run out.
Thus, they had only ventured out into towns and villages when food was necessary. Ryoma had fished successfully in streams on multiple occasions, reducing the strain on their pool of money. At other times, he had busied himself with his sword practice, taking care not to aggravate his injuries. Rouge had managed to mend the tears in his clothing. The lack of people around had made it easier for laundry to be done without much awkwardness. Above all, Ryoma had been surprised by how the woman had refrained from touching him intimately, only stealing the occasional searing kiss. Their camaraderie had thereupon deepened.
On the fifth day, they made it to Mutsu, Ryoma's birth town. Against a backdrop of verdant hills and rich blue skies, the neat rows of double-storeyed buildings were peaceful and quaint. What stood out most had to be the sloping, ceramic-tiled roofs and the large wooden windows, each with thin paper stretched across horizontal and vertical wooden strips. The shops and houses looked to be built purely of wood; wide sliding doors were flanked by paper-covered windows on either side. Colourful, printed signboards stood over the open entrances of shops, beckoning the townsfolk who milled about the streets.
With the onset of summer, the usual dress of the residents was the yukata, a casual cotton robe that stretched loosely to the wrists and ankles, bound around the waist by a thick sash. Hardly a single person paid mind to the samurai's intricate clothes, but heads were discreetly turned when Rouge stepped alongside Ryoma through the wide unpaved streets.
"So, where are we headed first, Ryoma? There are supplies to be replenished, lodging to be sought, and two different people to visit. Not to mention, your sword practice, and our meals for the day." The fortune teller took her time to admire the intricate buildings, thinking back on the months she had travelled through Moonland years ago. The buildings and people had hardly changed. It would not be difficult setting up a table for fortune telling here. Unlike Mahdad, no crisis had altered Ryoma's hometown. "This place is beautiful."
"It sure is." She glanced at the samurai, spotting a soft, happy glow to his countenance that perked her spirits. He looked especially endearing that way. Rouge unwillingly kept the respectful distance between them both. "I was thinking that a visit to my mother first might be in order... Though perhaps it- it'll be better if you don't come along for this, Rouge."
"Why not?" The fortune teller returned her gaze to him, catching the nervous edge to his voice. "Surely your mother isn't that ferocious a woman?"
"N-no, she isn't, but I haven't seen her in over two years. Having you with me on my visit might... give her ideas..." Ryoma averted his eyes, slowly leading them towards the outer edge of the town. His cheeks coloured slightly. "If I remember correctly, there should be an affordable inn around here that we could stay at. You could take a look at it while I drop by her cottage..."
"Oh, come on, it's not like we have a chance of being married," she teased lightly, then regretted it the second after. Not being able to spend the rest of her future with Ryoma meant that she was going to be seeing him for a last time. She could not bear to think of him leaving. Her chest tightened. "Forget I said that."
The man turned his head to look at her, lips parting at her change in tone. She glanced away. It would not do to let him know of her bitterness. He seemed to grow faintly agitated then, stuttering, "W-Well, I'm sure my mother w-wouldn't mind having another visitor over... Y-You did say to pretend, didn't you, Rouge?"
She almost forgot to walk then. Her eyes widened, and she stared at him mutely, surprised that he had remembered, and had even volunteered the idea. Her heart fluttered. "Y-Yes, I did."
"Would- Would you like to visit my mother with me, in that case? I- I'm sure she'll be glad to have you over." The samurai looked away, his cheeks a tinge of red. Rouge wished she could hug him then, instead glancing fondly at him, wondering if any of the townsfolk had noticed their behaviour.
"Mm, sure."
Houses on the outskirts of Mutsu were generally small; the wealthy owned large buildings and districts across the town, while the farmers and lower classes found it more affordable to reside closer to the forests and fields, in little wooden cottages that had the same paper-and-wood windows. Children in simple attire yelled friendly greetings at each other; some helped out in their yards, while others crouched around traditional wooden tops spinning on the packed dirt ground.
Ryoma stopped at one straw-roofed house in particular, which had a tiny wooden porch before its doors. Past the picket fence, a garden of flowers stretched between the dirt path and the porch, filled with bright flowers - pinks, yellows, reds and purples - most of them in various stages of bloom. There was a diminutive woman settled on the porch, dressed in a pastel pink yukata, her legs folded beneath her, wavy black hair rippling past her thin shoulders. She had a small decorative vase before her, and a bundle of flower stalks in a scattered pile next to her knees. The female looked up at their steady approach.
"Ryoma!" She sprung to her feet and rushed forward, pausing just to slip her feet into wooden slippers, before hurrying down the dirt path through her flowers, stopping behind her wooden gate breathlessly. With a curious glance at Rouge, she eased the gate open, ushering them in, her large eyes scanning over her son, lingering over his face. "Ryoma, you've grown so much! What brings you here, and who's this beautiful lady here?"
She couldn't have been past her mid-thirties, Rouge realised. Ryoma's mother was very pretty for her age, with a child-like attractiveness in her large black eyes and high cheekbones. There was a slight glow to her face now, not unlike that on her son's features when they had first arrived. The flower seller led them into her house, shutting the wooden doors behind them and gesturing to the low pine-wood table in the middle of the tatami flooring.
Bright sunlight filtered through the thin paper windows, illuminating the woven rectangular straw mats that covered the floor of the room. It was very slightly larger than Ganna's shack, and far emptier. A gap between the sliding doors on the far end of the room revealed a silver wind chime, which sent the barest of tinkles through the house with each breeze. A tall vase stood at one corner, filled with an exquisite arrangement of flowers. Some feet away, an old sword was mounted on the wall. Closer to the door was a framed picture, full of green and orange and black, that Rouge could not make out even when she stared hard at it.
They found themselves seated formally across Ryoma's mother - Ryoma with his legs crossed, and Rouge with hers folded to the side. It seemed highly uncomfortable to be positioned the way the older woman was, with her feet tucked demurely beneath her. Rouge squirmed under her hostess's appraising stare, returning the gaze nevertheless. Perhaps she should not have intruded on the samurai's reunion with his mother. Did the woman disapprove of her revealing clothes? It was uncharacteristic of her to be self-conscious before the man's family.
She offered a low bow, as was the custom in Moonland, clenching her fists nervously. "I'm pleased to meet you, Ma'am. My name is Rouge."
"The pleasure is mine, Rouge! Do address me as Yuka for now." Ryoma's mother smiled amiably at her, large black eyes crinkling.
'For now'?
"Ryoma, you haven't answered my question - why are you back in Moonland? I'm delighted that you've finally brought a girl home!" The flower seller turned towards her son, gazing lovingly at him, before sliding Rouge a pointed glance.
Rouge blinked. There had to be something she was missing out on. The man blushed and shook his head vigorously, forcing a laugh. "It's not like that, Mother, I'm only nineteen! Rouge and I are just good friends. We're in Moonland on a short task before we leave again."
Then it clicked. Yuka thought her son had brought a prospective wife home. Her? Ryoma's wife? As ridiculous as the idea was, such a thought thrilled her, if only for a few seconds. Her cheeks pinkened. "No, you've got it wrong, Yuka. I'm just a fortune teller from Moonland, and Ryoma has been helping me on my journey-"
"Oh." Gloom seemed to settle on the flower seller. She stared between them both. Her lips pulled into a pout. Next to Rouge, the samurai squirmed. Yuka perked up then, turning to the younger woman. "You tell fortunes?"
"Yes, I do." Rouge allowed a smile to creep up her lips, glad for the change of topic. Ryoma visibly sagged as well. She slid her crystal ball out of her satchel, placing it on the wooden table. In the filtered light of the room, the sphere seemed to distort the images within itself. "Would you like a reading, Yuka? I'm better at personal fortunes."
"Please, if you would be so kind to." The excited sparkle in those large eyes made her wonder if fortune telling with a crystal ball had been done in this town at all. Mother and son both stared at her polished globe, watching as she hovered her hands around it, relaxing her spirit and letting her gaze lose focus. It felt as if the room had darkened slightly when the crystal ball glowed a slight blue, images taking shape within it.
"I see a bright light in your future. Someone will appear, who will lead you to great happiness. I can't say for sure who he is, but he is slowly approaching."
The vision faded, and so did the glow and darkness, leaving Yuka staring mutely at her. She blinked, returning her attention to Ryoma. The rarest of smiles quirked his lips. "You did it again, Rouge! You're one terrific fortune teller, you!"
Rouge swallowed and blushed under his gaze, her pulse destabilising at his smile. He probably had forgotten that his mother was watching. She avoided both their eyes, knowing that Yuka probably suspected something between them.
"You do seem very taken by the girl, Son." The flower seller slanted her gaze over to her kin, an amused smile curving her lips.
The samurai lost his grin immediately, staring at the table in a mimic of Rouge. The colour on his cheeks was enough to rival a tomato. "N-no, you've got it all w-wrong, M-Mother. I was just- uh, I was just complimenting Rouge because she's a... a special friend..."
She wanted to bury herself in a hole beneath the straw mat. Or at the very least, hide her face. Taking a deep breath, the fortune teller gazed straight at the woman across the table, bravely gesturing at the painting on the wall. It would spare Ryoma of his embarrassment, at least. "That is a very nice abstract painting, Yuka."
The older woman looked between them oddly, inducing more squirms. At length, she finally responded, "That's Ryoma's painting of a tiger."
With a low groan, the samurai covered his face with a hand. Rouge bit back a giggle.
Yuka went on to reminisce about Ryoma's childhood, keeping the blush on his cheeks ever present while Rouge overcame her awkwardness and laughed along with the woman's memories. Neither had refused when the older woman bade them to lunch. Ryoma had been keen on the thought of home-cooked food - fried fish and a sweet omelette on sticky rice, as well as miso soup, which was a mixture of hot water and fermented soybean paste. To the fortune teller's amazement, there was a kitchen hidden behind one of the sliding doors, that Yuka prepared their meals in, after politely declining her offer of help. The samurai had told her that his mother's room was behind another such door. He did not have his own space here - he had been residing at his sensei's dojo when his mother's home was constructed.
Their conversation with Yuka had resumed after the meal, touching on more memories and the swordsman's travels. Rouge found out that Ryoma's decision to become a samurai had been born when some thugs had upset Yuka's flower stall shortly after his father's passing. He had sworn to grow stronger then, to protect his mother from harm. Throughout the narration of the man's childhood, she had felt herself growing more affectionate towards him, almost understanding the shine in his mother's eyes.
It was with great reluctance on Rouge's part that their attention returned to Ryoma's and her purpose in Moonland. Like Ganna, Yuka had been shocked to hear about the pirates. The flower seller had been keener on her son's injuries than his triumph over Kraken, but Ryoma had refused to show her the extent of them, shrugging the matter off by telling her how Rouge had been tending to his wounds. It earned him another poignant look that sent him squirming.
The pair was only allowed to leave an hour after dinner, when dusk had fallen, and the noises from the children had died down. Yuka had coerced promises of future visits from them with her innocent, pleading eyes, and was bidding them a good night from her wooden porch.
"Where will you be lodging while you're here, Ryoma?" she asked as they stepped onto the dirt path.
"Probably a small inn nearby," the man responded confidently, readying himself to leave. "The meals were delicious, Mother! I'm glad I came home."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Yuka." Rouge smiled and offered a small bow. Talking to Ryoma's mother had not turned out to be as dreadful as she had expected. "Thank you for your kind hospitality."
"You're very welcome." The flower seller waved them off, placing a quick hand on Rouge's shoulder the moment her son turned. She leaned down, so that her face was inches from the younger woman's. The latter paused in surprise. "Drop by the day after tomorrow, Rouge. Preferably sometime in the afternoon?"
She nodded mutely, glancing at Ryoma. He seemed to have been unaware of their exchange.
"Don't tell my son about this." Yuka sent her a winning smile, patting her shoulder and drawing back. Stunned with the sudden realisation that Ryoma's mother wanted to speak with her, Rouge caught up with the samurai in a daze, just as he turned. The lingering anxiety that she thought had been vanquished started to spread its tendrils into her again. She did not dare look back until they had rounded a corner, catching a glimpse of the petite woman on her porch as she watched them leave.
Ryoma stopped before a quiet inn ten minutes later. Yellow light splayed across the doorway, streaming from lamps behind the paper windows. Two heavy pieces of white cloth hung from the upper edge of the door, covering a third of the entrance and veiling the interior of the establishment. It was quiet within. They exchanged a glance; Rouge stepped forward, lifting one of the pieces of cloth away and entering the inn. The samurai followed behind her.
"Welcome!" The greeting sounded to the side. A plain wooden counter was docked to the right of the entrance, attended to by a balding man in his forties. He bowed as they entered, glancing between the pair, as if waiting for either to speak first.
Despite its limited size, the establishment was a homey place, with a small sitting area to the left of the doorway, comprising of a table on a large woven rug and short chairs surrounding it. Vases of flowers stood at the corners of the sitting area, similar to that in Yuka's cottage. A foldable wooden partition separated the guests' area from the rooms. Steep wooden stairs were tucked at the end of the counter, utilised by the occasional guest.
"I would like to know the rates for the smallest room available here," Rouge stated evenly, turning towards the man at the counter.
"Twenty gold a night, Miss. That includes breakfast for two." He did not seem the least bit surprised at her question, nor at her dressing, instead keeping his gaze respectfully on her face.
She glanced briefly at the samurai, mentally balancing their funds. They would have sufficient gold for five days' food and lodging, after which, any more money needed would have to be earned. Receiving no visible objection from Ryoma, she turned back to the man, presumably the owner of the inn, reaching for her purse. "We'll be paying for five days' lodging up-front, and any subsequent fees on a daily basis. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, it is," the innkeeper replied with a nod and a friendly smile, jotting her words down on a piece of paper, before reaching for a key beneath the counter. Rouge lay their payment out on the flat wooden surface. He verified the amount, then handed the key over. "Room Six is right at the end of the corridor; the baths can be accessed by the passage on the left. Breakfast is served in the dining room from six to nine every morning. I hope that you'll both have a pleasant stay."
Room Six was no larger than Yuka's living room. Tatami flooring stretched from corner to corner, the woven straw soft beneath their feet. Golden light beams extended from the gas lamp that Rouge had lit, illuminating half their rented space. A couple of pillows and futon lay rolled up to a side, each consisting of a thin mattress and a thick quilt, to be laid out when necessary. At the far end of the room, a polished table was set close to the paper window, with two folded yukata neatly placed on it.
Rouge relieved herself of her bag, turning to the samurai. Within the four walls of the room, the stress of maintaining their unfamiliarity had melted away, leaving them as they were before. He was standing at the edge of the lamp's glow, inspecting the table at the far end. Before he could move, she had slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him to herself, pressing her chest to his back. The warmth and strength emanating from his body blanketed her thoroughly, and she closed her eyes, nuzzling into his shoulder. It was bittersweet being with him like this. Ryoma smelled sweaty and male.
"Rouge?" He shifted in her arms.
"Hmm?" She leaned her weight into him, wanting to just hold him this close and not let go. Her fingers strummed against his chest, smoothing over hard, clothed muscle. It was a matter of seconds before her hand had slipped into his kimono top, softly caressing his bandaged torso. It had been days since she last got her fill of him, and her body hungered for more. "I missed you, Ryoma."
He squirmed, his blood heating at her warmth, recalling the softness of her flesh from days before. Her light touch had sent sparks careening down his nerves, through the cotton around his chest. It was maddening that his body reacted so strongly to her caresses, when he had only gone without it for a few days. Her lips trailed down his neck, and his breath hitched. His pulse quickened. Before he was aware of it, his vest and kimono top had slid off his body, hanging limply by his waist as Rouge drew hot lines of fire down his skin with her fingers. Heat pooled in his loins; he shivered at her contact, torn between wanting more and refusing her.
The fortune teller pulled away with a low purr, deftly undoing the firm bandages around his body. He blinked and took deep breaths to calm his arousal, missing her warmth. Did she do that just to remove his dressings?
Warm air brushed over his back when she had freed him, leaving only the slow pressure of a fingertip over his skin. He felt her gaze on him, languid and intense. She traced his itching scabs with her touch. "You shouldn't need to be bandaged anymore, Ryoma. Your wounds are healing up nicely now."
He felt her press her soft lips to his back, between his shoulder blades. It sharpened his awareness of her, sent his blood humming. Ryoma turned, steeling himself to ask why she held back. The woman was a seductive silhouette against the lamplight.
Then she eased herself in front of him, cupping his face and bringing his lips to hers, softly welcoming them with light caresses and tugs that hazed his thoughts. She pulled so sensuously on his lips that he gave in to the sensation, his heart thumping with renewed want. His lips parted without her request, and she delved into his mouth, meeting him hungrily, tasting him. A foggy part of his mind recognised that she was all he could think of, but he was more interested in the way her tongue stroked his, her fervour telling him how much she had been anticipating this through the day. She moaned softly into his lips. He stopped breathing; his flesh grew stiff at her utterance.
Just as suddenly as she had begun, Rouge broke away, leaving them both gasping wetly for breath. She smiled at him, her lips moist with their kiss. His chest tightened at her dark eye and contented grin. It felt as if he should think of something to say, but his mind drew a blank.
"Change into your yukata and take your bath, Ryoma. It'll help you relax." The fortune teller picked one of the robes off the table and pressed it into his hands, angling a smile up at him. "Save the sword practice for tomorrow."
Ryoma realised how much he appreciated the woman then.
-x-
Yuka was sitting at her porch again two days later. A fresh bundle of flowers were scattered to her right, slowly being fed into the squat, round vase she cradled in her left hand. She looked up and smiled as Rouge approached, getting up to allow the latter into her compounds as she had done before.
"Good afternoon, Rouge. I knew you'd come!" The older woman clasped her hand and bowed once she had passed the gate, locks of her wavy hair slipping forward to frame her youthful face.
She smiled at Yuka's warmth, returning the bow. The flower seller's harmless countenance wore away at her misgivings. It would not be a surprise if there were men still keen on her at this age. "Good afternoon, Yuka. It's nice to meet you again."
Ryoma's mother led her to the porch, settling next to her flowers. At Rouge's hesitation, she petted the wooden flooring beside her, indicating that the fortune teller have a seat. Silence hung between them for moments while Yuka picked her vase up, resuming her arrangement of the colour-tipped stalks. Rouge allowed her calves to hang over the edge of the porch, clasping her hands in her lap, watching her hostess from the corner of her eye. There could only be one real purpose why Yuka had invited her over.
"How are you settling into Mutsu, Rouge?" Yuka slid her an amiable look, before snipping the stem of a flower with a pair of scissors, fitting it back into her pot.
"I'm doing rather well, thank you. The people here seem to be very interested in how the crystal ball reads their fortunes." It was true. She had rented a couple of chairs and a table from one of the stalls in the marketplace, spending most of her free time telling fortunes while Ryoma was occupied with his training or running errands. When business drew into a lull, she would bring him a fruit or a drink to keep him refreshed. "I'm just glad to be able to tell fortunes again in Moonland."
"I see. What about Ryoma? He does not know of your visit, does he?" Yuka paused in her flower arrangement, turning towards Rouge. Her heart quickened under the woman's attention. She spoke slowly, to prevent herself from making a slip.
"Ryoma is steadily recovering. He was sufficiently healed for the bandages to be removed two days ago." Rouge allowed herself a moment to relish the memory of their kiss that night. "I didn't tell him of the visit. He's training with his swords now, and is under the impression that I'm taking a walk around the town."
Yuka nodded, smiling gently at the positive news of her son. There was another pause, before she looked out towards the rest of the town, over her flower garden. "About that prediction you did for me the other day... Is it possible for me to have more detail regarding that?"
"I'm afraid not, Yuka, and I'm sorry about it." She caught a glimpse of uncertainty in the older woman's eyes. It was an expression that was common throughout her travels, when the readings sounded perhaps too good to be true. "The crystal ball only gives a certain amount of information at any one point in time."
"That's fine with me. I don't blame you for it, Rouge." Ryoma's mother returned her gaze to her vase of flowers, selecting another stalk. "You're aware of the reason I asked you over, are you not?"
"Yes, I am." Rouge bit her lip and swallowed, her heartbeats picking up. It was strange that she should be this nervous. After all, Ryoma had no place in her future. The sooner Yuka knew the truth, the sooner she could get over any grievances she might have.
"You are interested in my son."
Her heart missed a beat. She nodded mutely, not quite knowing what to fix her eyes on.
"I've seen the way you look at him, Rouge. You have feelings for him, don't you? Deep ones." Another nod, coupled with a blush. How could the woman deduce so much just by observing her? "And I'm glad for that. When he left Moonland at seventeen, all he was keen on were his swords. Ryoma probably doesn't remember my telling him that he'll need a wife, to take care of him in his old age, and to continue the family line."
Her cheeks flamed. Her? Bearing Ryoma's children? It was something so intimate and implausible that it had never crossed her mind. "Y-You aren't suggesting that-"
"What are your intentions towards him?" Yuka cast another smile at her, full of motherly pride at the memory of her son.
"I... I don't know." Wasn't she supposed to be pretending that her future didn't exist? Why did it have to haunt her even when she had left her homeland? Rouge glanced at the samurai's mother, seeing the satisfied expectancy on her features. It would come crashing down soon, and she hated to be the one causing it. "I can't be his wife."
"Why not? I saw how you've mended his clothes. No man sews that neatly." Yuka's expression was riddled with surprise and confusion. Her hand had paused in the middle of placing a flower. "You've been caring for him like a wife does!"
Amidst the growing knot in her chest, Rouge flushed again, the receding crimson surging back into her cheeks. She didn't want to imagine a future with Ryoma. It had hurt too badly. "Yuka- what Ryoma didn't tell you was that m-my destiny is to become an Oracle in Fireland. I can't marry, and cannot have children because of that."
"But- But Ryoma likes you."
Her chest tightened. The flesh behind her eyes warmed. Rouge looked down at her hands, biting her lip to stop it from quivering. It had not been as painful when no one had pointed it out. Without anyone's affirmation, she could still have walked away thinking that it was something she could have easily given up on. Different memories flashed across her eyes, of the man blushing, of him smiling, of his taut gazes. Her heart throbbed miserably. She took a deep breath. "I... wish things were different."
Yuka set her vase aside and lay a hand on her clasped fists, squeezing them lightly. From the corner of her eye, Rouge saw a motherly compassion surface on her countenance. "Do you love him?"
Rouge shook her head, trying to untangle the mess of emotions in her chest. Did she love him? "I don't know either. Sometimes I like him so much it hurts. It's- It's better that I don't attempt to be in his future - he is a very good fighter, Yuka. You should be proud of him." She hesitated. "He's killed for me once before."
"He has? Under what circumstances?" The older woman patted her hand comfortingly and stared straight at her, raising her head in surprise.
"One of the pirates attacked me." Rouge watched her warily. It felt as if Yuka had more to say.
"Was the pirate armed?"
"He wasn't wielding a weapon, no."
"Ryoma hasn't told you, has he? His honour does not allow him to attack someone unless there is a good reason to, and only if his opponent is capable of fighting back." The flower seller paused to let her words sink in. Rouge turned and stared at her, her eyes widening. Had Ryoma sacrificed his honour for her? "By killing an unarmed man for your sake, he had to have viewed the man's actions so heinous that it justified taking his life without giving him a chance to fight. You're important to him, Rouge."
"I-" She blushed, her heart missing a beat. Understanding Ryoma's motivations had only made her grow fonder of him. But even so, there was nothing she could do now. "I'm sorry for not being able to fulfil your expectations, Yuka."
"It's beyond your control, Rouge. Thank you for taking such good care of Ryoma." The older woman smiled wistfully at her, raven eyes soft with empathy. She tried to return the gesture. "I apologise for being a mood dampener."
Rouge shook her head to indicate that no offense was taken, meeting the older woman's gaze. "It's fine. You're his mother, after all."
"So tell me, have you two kissed?" It was a sudden change in topic, an attempt to lighten the mood. Yuka had done it on goodwill, Rouge knew. But her mind tripped, and she flushed, hurriedly glancing away. This was not a subject one discussed with the man's family.
Under Yuka's interested, friendly attention, Rouge finally surrendered a nod, hoping that her questions did not turn any more personal. "We have."
The flower seller smiled contentedly and picked her vase up, returning to her creation. "Are you aware of Ryoma's fear of spiders?"
"Yes, I am. There was a spider in my tent on one of the first times we met." Rouge breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Ryoma... sprang out of his chair and tried to get it off, but he fell onto me instead."
Yuka chuckled, shedding years from her face. "That isn't the worst he's done, Rouge. Once, when he was seven..."
The samurai's mother started on the worst of his childhood antics, which would have sent his ears burning had he been present, drawing peals of laughter from Rouge over the rest of the afternoon. Ryoma never did find out the reasons for the huge, affectionate hug Rouge had pulled him into that evening.
-x-
"Where have you been?" Neros snapped, tugging on one end of his pointed moustache. His beady eyes homed in on the shadowy, red-dressed figure in the doorway of the Oracle's Temple. Bushy black brows drew into a frown. "Your services have been required since almost two weeks ago!"
"Simple. Get someone else to do the job," Tsurugi drawled, strolling into the main chamber of the temple, his footsteps echoing off the gilded walls. He cast his small eyes about the room, on the alert for any signs of a threat. "What is so important that you had to have messengers hounding me the moment I set foot in this city?"
"Remember Rouge? The girl you brought to me on your last job here? Well, she's gone and escaped to Moonland!" the Oracle spat. "Along with that blasted samurai I locked in with her!"
Tsurugi rolled his eyes. "That isn't any of my business, is it?"
"It is your business because I require you to travel to Moonland and hunt her down. I want her brought back to me alive." Neros rubbed his hands and grinned, chuckling lowly, looking at no one in particular. "Five hundred gold pieces if you bring her to me within the next five days."
"Just five hundred? There is a good deal of travelling involved, and I don't have her exact location." The swordsman folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Seven hundred."
"Five-fifty. She is in a forested place in Moonland."
"Six-fifty. The whole of Moonland is forested."
"Oh, fine. Six hundred gold pieces," Neros grumbled, staring darkly at the swordsman, muttering under his breath. "Do you have an idea where she is?"
"Six hundred it is. If she's with that Akudo Dojo kid, then yes, I do roughly know her location." The hawk-faced fighter looked dully at his employer. "Why the rush, anyway?"
"The sooner she becomes my obedient wife, the sooner I'll secure my place as Oracle!" Neros bared his teeth. "If she doesn't cooperate, tell her that I have held her precious teacher hostage. My men will take care of the old hag easily."
"I understand." Tsurugi turned on his heels, heading back out of the Oracle's Temple, his swords clattering at his side. "Ready my payment. I'll be back in five days."
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