[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
Muramasa Uemon

It had been years since she had last slept so soundly. A confusing, worrying, but comforting concoction of emotion and feeling as the young woman slowly came to. Stirring, she blinked her eyes open, her cheek pressed against Uemon's chest as she laid tangled up with him. Rather than having retired to her bedroom after their endeavors, the young man had dressed her in one of his spare shirts, and that evening she had not slept alone.
    She closed her eyes once more. It's early morning, but I should probably get going, she thought to herself, stifling a yawn. She breathed a sigh and frowned, nuzzling her face against him. I don't want to wake up. I just want to pretend forever. Then, she opened her eyes once more and frowned, looking over to the door. But enough is enough. I need to go... break something, or torment someone, or something... not lie around and do nothing. I've already wasted so much time. I have a job to do. Go do jinchūriki things, or something. Ninja stuff.
    Slowly, Mikazuki sat upright in the futon.
    Kota was still asleep--though even the slight movement stirred him somewhat.
    Though, first and foremost... she looked over to Uemon. She was still groggy, slightly hungover, and still regathering her senses and surroundings--though rather quickly, as she was accustomed to being guarded. Not resting easily, often having to awake to danger, pain, or something else unpleasant. Instinct took over, even despite the domestic situation she found herself in. I have to go get some medicine.
    Her expression was cool, collected, and not fully alert--but awakened nonetheless as she looked the two boys over. Uemon, especially. His features visible even despite the low lighting. Even with opened windows, the mornings in Amegakure were not usually bright or sunny--with overcast and diluted light on a good day. With curtains and the tapping of rain on the glass of the windows, shadows engulfed the room.
    And for a moment, everything felt peaceful.
    Nice.
    Mikazuki allowed the moment to pass from where she was sitting, running her fingers through her hair as she considered her game plan for the day. All of the things she would have to do...

---

370 words

MADE BY ★MEULK

[Muramasa Uemon]

night fades into day

---

Sleep. It came rarely and when it did, it was anything but restful. Insomnia had plagued him for many years now and combined with a tendency to wake at the slightest movement or sound ensured he was almost always tired.

Except this night it found him. Not for long as he was otherwise occupied but he eventually did close his eyes for a time. One arm holding Mikazuki close to his chest as she rested her head on his chest and they both drifted off into slumber— exertion having played its part to allow them a moment's rest. Like this, he almost seemed peaceful.

No brooding, no furrowed brow, almost... content. At least from the expression on his face. It was not until she shifted around that he finally began to stir. Two groggy, heavy eyelids opening slowly to find her sitting up.

Running fingers through her hair "Cute..." Uemon mumbled almost incoherently, yawning and rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. More than tired, his head hurt. Not enough water, too much exercise. Part of him wanted to groan out loud... but he bit his tongue for Kota's sake. Still sound asleep. Turning his gaze to Mika, he let it linger there.

Watching her face, recalling that he gave her a white t-shirt that was just a little too big. Thinking back on the night's events. Their conversations, their... closeness. "Come here..." Another quiet mumble, a hand slowly reaching for one of hers to pull her back towards him. Back to his chest. Where he wanted her. "...just another minute."

Part of him did not want to get up. Even though he knew that eventually they would have to. Still half-asleep, he rubbed her back idly as he held her. Angling his head to kiss the top of hers softly. Both of their hair was a bit of a mess... something the would need to sort out at some point. In a bit. For now, he just wanted another moment.

Like this... without having to worry about what would come next. Where he would have to go or what obstacles waited. Just one more minute of peace. Solace was an ever-increasing rarity for him. So he hoped she would oblige.

---

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
Muramasa Uemon

Mikazuki was hardly surprised that her stirring had caused Uemon to also come to. A slight exhale of breath, mumbling something soft enough it was drowned by the rain outside. Mikazuki stared down at him as she finger-combed her long, chestnut locks. She wasn't expressionless, but her studious gaze could easily be mistaken for a glare. And, as Uemon reached for her hand, mumbling quietly for her to lay back down with him--inviting her to stay for a few more minutes... she didn't immediately move. Hesitant. Contemplative.
    The charade would have to end.
    They were not love birds nesting together, and while they had shared much in the night, she didn't want him to get too comfortable with the idea. Any temptations were things she could reject, despite any allure they had. She wanted to brush it off as merely a one-night-stand, and nothing more. Pretending to be lovers for one evening, only to return as strangers come the rising sun... It seemed right to slip away while he and the boy slept, and to disappear into the shadows without any acts of affection or familiarity.
    And yet, even so, the young woman eased herself back down to him, resting her head once more on his chest, one arm resting loosely around his waist.
    Even so, it was better this way, she decided.
    She wasn't quite sure what to do in their situation--it felt all too familiar, yet entirely alien and unknown. Running away and vanishing felt natural, and she was unsure if they would even need a direct confrontation--as she had made herself quite clear to Uemon the night before, and she wanted to believe that he understood her intentions--or lack thereof. Perhaps there would be no need for further conversation, but either way... it seemed like a dangerous situation, to her. Delicate. And so, she figured, she needed to be careful moving forward. Rushing things and running off--while more appealing to her--wasn't what was best. She needed to take it step by step.
    Though, as Uemon's hands wandered idly along her back, gently tracing along her spine, which he would be able to feel even through the shirt she wore, Mikazuki's mind began to drift. A kiss upon her head, and her expression softened.
    This is not unlike that time, before, she thought, slowly closing her eyes as she allowed her mind to wander. Waking up warm, and feeling safe. With his arms around me, holding me close, hearing the steady drum of his heartbeat. Not wanting to get up and leave... Her eyes drifted open once more as she remained there, silent, staring over to the far, blank wall. Full of love and stupidity. Having hope, and believing.
    Entirely different than the situation she found herself in, now, she supposed.
    "I should go," she whispered. I need to change my clothes, at the very least. She couldn't go on wearing only his spare shirt for the whole day, at least... and that prompt would give way for something else, she was sure. Change of clothes, brushed hair, and then moving on.
    It sounded a reasonable way to move forward.

---

### words

MADE BY ★MEULK

[Muramasa Uemon]

the body and heart both ache

---

Warmth, as she rested her head on his chest once more. Loosely clinging to one another, listening to the sound of her breathing... it was nice. But he knew that it would soon be coming to an end.  

For as long as he had lived Uemon had never been a morning person. If he needed to be somewhere he could of course force himself out of bed... but he would not be happy about it. Grogginess and a mean hangover caused him to do what felt natural— holding her, rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort. But the fog was starting to lift.

Recalling their in-depth conversations, his eyes slowly opened to stare at the ceiling. Both of them had assured the other of their intentions. They were adults, not children playing at fairy tales. At least... not at present. "Yeah..."

Another mumbled word as she spoke, fingers continuing to gently glide along her spine. "I suppose you have to."

Uemon's mouth pursed slightly and moved to the side as he thought. He glanced down at her, eyes falling on her long brown locks. Looked like a nest. "But you can't go like that, your hair's a mess." He said softly, peering out between his own unruly locks that had frizzed up slightly. It was mostly his fault they were both in such a state... and so an idea formed. Stopping on her shoulder, his hand gave her a gentle squeeze. "Go get dressed."

Very reluctantly he began to sit up, his grip on Mika faltering as his gaze fell on her face. "Grab a brush... and a spray bottle if you have one." He said, one hand moving to rub at his eyes. "Meet me in the living room."

All he said as he slowly rose to his feet and shuffled slowly towards the door. Now that he was up and moving, he realized that it was not just his head that hurt. The shoulder that she helped stitch up burned. Uemon was fairly certain that it had not re-opened... but it still bothered him. So he did what any aching, hungover person would.

Headed straight for the kitchen to put some coffee on... and down a tall glass of water while he waited. As he stood there, his eyes drifted to a cupboard. Cracked from the night before. "I should fix that." Again, his fault. The whole place could use a bit of sprucing up too. And that bathroom mirror needed replacing. Something to do before they left, as thanks. He made a mental note to take care of it later on in the day. Kota would no doubt be up soon which meant he had to make some kind of breakfast before long. "Tamagoyaki, maybe..." He thought.

Soon... but with any luck, he would be finished with what he had in mind fairly quickly. Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand while pouring a few cups of dark roast with the other. It would help wake him up but he did not have much hope for his head. Assuming Mika didn't escape via any secret tunnels, he would be waiting for her.

To trade her a cup for grooming supplies and gesture for her to take a seat on the floor. "You usually wear your hair up..." Uemon began, heading once more to the kitchen to fill the bottle with warm water. Once he had, he returned, taking a sip of his drink before settling in behind her. "Have you ever had it braided before?"
 
For a moment he only stared, delicately taking a few strands in his hand. Feeling for any knots, charting his course of action. It was pretty tangled... but nothing a deft hand could not fix. Setting his coffee aside, he took up the bottle and spritzed some water over her long tresses. Just enough to dampen her hair. Gently moving his fingers through them as he did, making sure to work down to her scalp. It was always easier to start by hand then try and force a brush through it to detangle. Less painful too. He worked diligently, but softly. Still waiting for her reply.

---

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
Muramasa Uemon

"Mhm..." was her tired reply as she continued lying against him, internally grateful that there wasn't any fight or resistance from him at her suggestion. His hands continued to lazily travel along her spine, and she would only be lying if she said that his touch wasn't an added comfort. Though, perhaps he was already aware of that. How, even despite her verbal protests and denial, some part of her did crave physical contact and affection.
    Uemon did, however, give a gentle counter-argument. Not quite a demand, not commanding her what to do or stripping her of any agency... but still leading, guiding.
    They both knew she could reject the suggestion if she so wanted--it would be easy for her to do. Yet the offer didn't seem invasive at all, so she was all the more willing to cooperate.
    A brush and a spray bottle... she thought, pensive. Do I even have a spray bottle? There was probably one with cleaning supplies, but he probably wanted one that was empty, not full of bleach. What does he want a spray bottle for, anyway?
    Maybe squirting you every time you misbehave. Like a cat.
    Her expression dropped slightly. Doubtful.
    Mikazuki yawned and sat upright once more, stretching her arms slightly. Then she rose to her feet and abandoned the guest room with Uemon, parting ways to go to her own bedroom and fetch what he'd asked of her, as well as to change into some new clothing. Hesitance filling up her mind through the various steps of action. How should she dress? In front of Uemon, she was supposed to just be a retired shinobi. A civilian type, almost. But he'd seen her around in her gear, and in truth she felt most comfortable in her gear, even while off-duty. And it felt appropriate, as she was often training--and as she had given the excuse to him, before, training was what she knew best. Even if it had no "purpose".
    That, and... some subconscious motivation to feel safe. Over-guarded, even when she shouldn't be.
    Should I... just wear my casual clothes? she wondered. At the end of the day, with her most powerful katana sealed into her hand--which was still hidden with bandages--and her knowledge of ninjutsu, genjutsu, bukijutsu, and fūinjutsu... not to mention she was a jinchūriki... She didn't need to be in her gear to be prepared for something--even if she wouldn't be fully prepared with all of her bells and whistles... it would probably be fine. And, besides, if she was going to be on-duty, she'd switch into Squeakers' gear and disguise at a later point, anyway--elsewhere, where it wouldn't be tracked back to her. A more neutral, logical place, like the Red Tower, where plenty of people went in and out, and it was the known home of Amegakure's Monster.
    So... she put on a red t-shirt and black shorts.
    Taking off the shirt he'd given her, changing her underclothes, and folding his shirt up nicely to return to him--though rather redundantly, as it would have to be washed, anyway. Even if she only slept in it...
    Looking around her room, Mikazuki fetched a spray bottle that had water in it, an old relic from her younger days, which she used to tend to a potted plant she kept on a windowsill. Light pink peonies, as they were. I wonder, there is a brush in the bathroom, isn't there? She was almost positive she kept one there, thinking on it as she exited the sealed-off room to fetch it. Maybe he couldn't find it? His hair's not that long, so he could probably keep it tamed with just his fingers. She pursed her lips. Though, it does seem his has a different kind of texture than mine. A brush certainly wouldn't hurt him, I'm sure. And she certainly needed to brush hers, too. Maybe I should get him a comb if he doesn't already have one. The kid could definitely learn how to brush his hair, since I don't think he'd been taught, previously.
    Something she, regrettably, could relate to.
    Eventually leaving to meet Uemon in the living room, she was greeted with the scent of freshly-brewed coffee and the sight of the young man offering her a cup. She stared for a moment, her expression frozen and still--not quite stunned, but hesitantly surprised nonetheless at the gesture. Then, a gentle exchange. "Thank you..." Uemon gestured for her to take a seat, and, slowly, she obliged. Carefully, methodically, she knelt to the ground with the warm cup of coffee in her hands. Watching. Accepting.
    He moved to sit down behind her, his fingers gently combing through her tousled locks, damping her hair with the spray bottle as he worked. "Braided?" She stayed quiet for a while as she thought on how to answer his question. I usually wear my hair up because... It was practical, was one answer. Simple, easy to do. It kept her hair mostly contained and out of the way, and was easy enough to adjust or deal with when needed. But, also...
    It felt strange. Sitting there, letting Uemon groom her hair as he was.
    It reminded her of when Yuuyake and Azami had just taken her in. She'd been on the streets, previously. Neglected and abused for years before, her hair had been matted and tangled beyond hope. Yuuyake had sat her down, not unlike this, and cut her hair short, brushing, taking care of, and salvaging what he could. When it did eventually begin to grow out, years later, she simply kept it in a ponytail--just like Azami did. Azami had shown her how easy and effective it was, so there was no need to explore further. She wasn't supposed to be a girl, so caring about appearances and putting time and effort into things like makeup and hairstyling simply hadn't been a priority. Hadn't been taught.
    "No. Never," she answered quietly. She turned her head, slightly, to glance over at him from over her shoulder. "Why?"
    Why was he asking? Why was he doing this?
    It was puzzling.

---

1020 words

MADE BY ★MEULK

[Muramasa Uemon]

and morning light stings

---

Domestic life was an interesting concept. Contrary to everything he had been taught, everything he needed to be. Once, he had spoken of such things with another in a roundabout way. Toying with the idea as they lied together.

It was not realistic then just as it was not now... and yet here he was. Sipping coffee with Mika and gently seeing to her tangled hair. The outfit that she chose to wear looked as cute as it did comfortable. A thought that he chose to keep to himself for the moment as he watched her. Mind no doubt racing as hers often did. Still... she accepted his offer. Joining him on the floor and allowing him to brush her hair.  "Hm..." A soft hum as he ran his fingers carefully through her brown locks, remaining mindful to not tug on stubborn knots. Working his way to her roots to check for stragglers. Even massaging her scalp lightly as he tried to be thorough. "Because you have nice hair."

All he said as he reached for the brush beside him and started to delicately tend to her hair. Using one hand to section off parts of her damp tresses and the other to detangle with the help of stiff bristles. "Braids would look good on you." He said quietly as he worked, pausing for just a moment as he realized that she would most likely not care. "...and they're practical. They'll keep stray locks out of your face." Pragmatism was much better.

By now he knew that the woman cared little for what others thought— or at least that was how she presented herself outwardly. It did not change the fact of what he said, though. Mika's hair was fine, long and pretty. Reaching down past her waist when it was down like this. Uemon brushed backwards from her hairline, taking his time to ensure that no flyaways remained as he gathered up her locks in his free hand. After that, his fingers shifted.

Parting her hair gently in the middle before setting the brush aside to take up a few strands on the right side of her hair in his hands. "I can braid it for you." He said, tilting his head to meet her gaze. "If that's alright?" 

A thought occurred, and he glanced to the locks between his fingers. "We'll need some hair ties though..."

---

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
Muramasa Uemon

Because she had nice hair, he explained. It seemed truthful enough, and simple, which lead her to feel suspicious, though... perhaps it was just that simple. While Uemon was a man of his own cautiousness and suspicions, possessing a depth of his own rife with emotion and ambition of his own... he was also quite simple, she had found, in some ways. Straightforward in a way that was...
    Well, not like a child. Who was naive and focused on only what was right in front of them, and not capable of foreseeing in the distant future.
    Not like a shinobi, where most interactions were some kind of veiled fight--a dance of deceit, reconnaissance, connections, order, structure, and guidelines. Straightforward in their expectations, and quickness to sever connections as soon as they got what they needed. She was no different in this regard.
    A straightforwardness, and a simpleness, perhaps, that was explained by his background. Not quite a civilian, but certainly not an agent. Not a warrior, but not just a wanderer. 
    The more time she'd spent with him, the more she'd seen him. And he was a comfortable presence. While she was not willing to lower her guard, it was still... nice. She didn't feel as much on edge. While everyone was perceived as a threat to her, she did not fear he was dangerous to her, the distinction was clear in her mind. And, of course, his thoughtful touches helped.
    He was kind to her, and considerate in a way that most weren't--not that she allowed such instances when they were presented to her.
    "Hm..." A chill ran down her spine as he brushed at her hair, dealing with the small tangles delicately. Unnecessarily so, in her eyes. But she stayed quiet for a while, allowing him to do as he pleased until he suggested that braids would look good on her, but that, moreso, they would be practical. A weak argument, considering a ponytail did the same, and took less effort as far as she was aware. And...
    While practicality had always been important to her--the primary reason she used to keep her hair up in a ponytail to begin with... she was beginning to wonder how significant it was for her, now. When she was a teenager, she had to work with what little she could--knowing she would never amount to anything and had to strive with all of her effort in every category she could to make up for her shortcomings. Having pretty, styled hair would only get in the way and cause as a visual obstacle. But it was nothing in comparison to when she wore Squeakers's mask, and that garment offered her protection and hardly hindered her in comparison at all.
    So, more likely, it was just the ramblings of a paranoid, terrified teenager who was trying to do everything she could to increase her chances of survival, no matter how miniscule or meaningless...
    "It would probably be even more practical if I just cut it all off," she spoke quietly. She glanced over her shoulder at him, noting his expression before her own softened, slightly. "But... sure," she spoke, offering him some hairbands. "For 'practicality's sake'." A silly argument, but one she'd taken upon herself years ago, so she would continue to allow it now. 
    Mikazuki held the cup in her hands, bringing it close to her lips to sip from the coffee while her gaze wandered outdoors from where they were seated in the living room. 

---

584 words

MADE BY ★MEULK

[Muramasa Uemon]

locks of chestnut hair

---

Before continuing on any further he wanted to wait for Mikazuki's consent.

Uemon and she were not partners, and even had they been he tried never to assume. The whole thing was only a suggestion... but judging from her silence at first it was one that she was considering. Weighing her options, maybe.

On whether to cut into him or allow him his meaningless gesture— or so that was what he imagined her to be pondering. "Perhaps she's figuring some way out of it." He thought as he stared at the hair between his fingers, then to her neck, then further down. Dark eyes observing her with a slightly softer sort of gaze than he had previously had.

Head still aching and feeling a bit sluggish yet, he hardly blinked at her initial response. Instead only glancing up once more to meet her gaze. "Probably." Uemon said in reply. "You might be able to pull it off." Of course he could tell she was being facetious... but seeing her expression subtly shift made him think it was not mean-natured. 

Besides... why not? Short hair might even suit her. For now though it seemed she was fine with the idea of braids. "For practicality's sake." The wanderer echoed, taking the offered ties in hand and slipping them over his wrist. It had been quite a few years since he had done this... but fortunately he got quite a bit of practice at home in his younger years. "We'll try two." Uemon said softly as his fingers began to move. Starting near the front of her hairline near her brow, grasping hold of a small section of hair, splitting it between his fingers into three equal sections, then beginning to layer them overtop of one another. It was a delicate and almost tedious process that, what with constantly needing to add new strands of hair to the sections as you went along. But after a minute or so he found himself in a sort of groove. "It must be muscle memory." He thought, quickly becoming unworried about the prospect of glaring errors. All this required was a bit of patience and focus which were two things he had in spades.

Quietly he continued on with his task, with only the sound of their breathing and the constant pitter-patter of the rain outside for background noise. Seconds turned into minutes, and as he worked his way down the right side of her head the braid started to take form. Uemon kept at it, his fingers deftly crisscrossing the separate strands, pinching, and gathering more until finally the right half of her parted hair had been carefully shaped into a braid.

After that it was a simple matter of slipping free one of the small hair ties back over his hand and securing the end with it. "Halfway done." Before he started on the second half of her hair he grabbed hold of his own cup and took a sip of the dark liquid within. Already he could feel the caffeine bloom starting to make him a bit more alert...

...unfortunately it did not do much for his nagging head, though. Quietly he set the cup back down next to him before moving both hands to the left side of Mikazuki's part, starting in on the second braid exactly the same way he did the first. Slowly, methodically, and making full use of the dexterity in his hands. It would not be long now until he was finished and then after that? "Breakfast first, then repairs." Until then he kept on silently with his task.

---

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
Muramasa Uemon

Mikazuki smirked, slightly at Uemon's agreeance. She was unsure how she would look with short hair, now. It had been so long since she'd had short hair, that truthfully, she couldn't remember what she'd looked like. Really, she wasn't sure if she even had mirrors, back then, to even waste time looking over her appearance. Probably for the better, considering how often she was covered in bandages and bruises and lacerations. She likely wouldn't have been a pleasant sight, back then.
    And she wasn't sure if she'd look any better, now.
    Age hadn't done her any justice, really. Sure, many of her injuries had long-since healed by now, but she reckoned she still looked like death in her own way. And, besides, she always sought out new forms of suffering even if her teachers no longer inflicted it upon her themselves...
    "I used to have short hair," she spoke quietly, closing her eyes as Uemon gently braided her locks. "When I was young." Though, it was apparent that it had been quite some time ago. With her long strands of chestnut hair reaching well past her waist... well, Uemon could likely do the math. She took another slow sip from her drink, enjoying its warmth though quickly coming closer to finishing it off entirely. "Do you have any plans for the day? Work, or the like?" She was uncertain what he'd do with the child if the answer was yes, though something told her Kota was fine enough to spend time alone.
    Not that she was sure it was the wisest choice... but one of the only ones the two boys had.

---

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MADE BY ★MEULK

[Muramasa Uemon]

layered over each other

---

Quietly, he continued with his task, laying strand over strand as he worked his way down the left side of her hair.

In time, the beginnings of a second braid appeared, and he remained focused on his hands' movements all the while. "If it were much longer, she would step on it when she tried to walk." He thought to himself as his fingers worked.

Mikazuki reminded him a bit of Hanagisa that way— flowing locks, more often restrained than not. Like his old sensei, she too deviated from what many considered to be 'conventional' attractiveness... but as with her, to him, she was simply beautiful. An understated sort of beauty, untethered by typical societal expectations. Singular.

A rarity, if he had ever seen one. "I'm sure you wore it well." Uemon said in reply, now almost halfway through the second braid. Short, long, or braided, it was the person who made the look, not the other way around. The woman had no shortage of confidence from what he could tell... so even without seeing for himself, he knew she could make quite the impression no matter the style. "I need to make breakfast." He said in answer to her question, thinking on what else he had to do. "Then work, definitely." Repairs, to the house and on his gear.

To make certain it was ready before they had to take their leave. "Will you eat with us, this time?" Uemon posed a question, leaning over to glimpse her face. "Or... would you still prefer to be alone?" If it were anyone else, the question might have sounded teasing. From him though, it was only a genuine question. Normally, he would not have asked again... but after last night, he thought it appropriate to renew the offer. "Hm..." He hummed quietly.

Stopping his motions as he squinted at his handiwork. "It's done." After a moment more of inspection, he slowly rose from his seated position and walked around to her front, to offer her a hand up. "Come." A quiet request, and if she accepted, he would lead her slowly out of the living room, down the hallway into the bathroom.

Gently, he ushered her towards the mirror, so that she could see the result for herself. "What's the verdict?" He asked, sidling up behind her. Closer than he would have a day ago, to stare over her shoulder into the broken mirror.

The sight of the fractured glass bringing other thoughts to mind. "Do you have anything planned, today?"

---

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
@tagged

"Hm." Something between a laugh and a scoff, she wasn't certain. The noise that came from her was something somewhere between them, she had to imagine. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me," she responded lightly, but sincerely. Compliments like that were better saved for someone who could do something with it. Either accept it and feel warm on the inside from a compliment, or raise the self-esteem of someone who needed encouragement and affection. She was neither of those, so his efforts felt wasted on her. If he was trying to get something out of it, he was simply barking up the wrong tree.
    Think you can butter me up and I'll just fall fool to your tricks? It takes more than pointless niceties to impenetrate my barriers. No, no, she knew better than to lower her guard just because someone threw some compliments her way... Though, surely he knew that by now? She bit her lip. Did he forget?
    "Did you find somewhere?" Mikazuki asked when Uemon listed one of the goals for the day--working. A question of curiosity. She knew that she'd bothered him to go train with Squeakers, but aside from that, he was quite left to his own devices. She figured he would still pick up work at one of the local smithies, but... well, she wasn't sure if he was still picking up work there, or had found elsewhere.
    Uemon leaned in slightly, shifting to look at her more properly as he made another proposal.
    "This time"? Like he was eager to get her to cooperate with his intentions.
    Mikazuki met his gaze, though her expression dropped slightly as her eyebrows raised. So, this is what he was trying to lower my guard for. Still, though... She didn't understand why. And so, while there was some annoyance to her tone, there was also some sincerity when she asked, "What do you want with me? Your persistence is--entirely unnecessary. I don't know what purpose my presence would serve to you." She wasn't good company, so she didn't understand his... incessance. "And I always prefer to be alone." She didn't have friends. She lived alone. Was that not obvious enough, by now? Had he not learned his lesson, yet?
    So, he was met with a familiar rejection.
    Though, soon enough, Uemon had finished braiding her hair and announced the project complete.
    Oh? the woman thought to herself. The surprise of being done so soon distracting her thoughts from continuing down their path. She looked up at him as the young man had risen to stand before her, offering a hand up. Of course, instinctually, she wanted to shoo him off. I don't need help, I can stand on my own.
    But, of course, pragmatically, she knew that wasn't the implication. It was polite, and she would have probably offered a hand to someone else, too. And he was allowed to treat her nicely.
    Still, though, she remained there frozen--her hand paused between grabbing his own or falling back to her side.
    He shouldn't be nice to me, and I shouldn't allow this to continue.
    But it's not a big deal at all, acting like this is some great big gesture that needs to be shot down is ridiculous. This is nothing.
    Mikazuki frowned, squinting up at him. Frustrated. Though, she bit her tongue and decided to go along with it--taking his hand and allowing Uemon to help her up.
    Initially, she was uncertain where it was that he wanted to take her--but as he lead her to the bathroom, it became clear enough. And it made sense. Reasonably, she should get a look at how his handywork turned out, right? I don't care how I look, she thought as she was brought over to the mirror. I don't need to see.
    But, still, he wanted her to look--so she probably should, right?
    Uemon moved up close behind her--and her body tensed reactively to his presence. She wasn't afraid of him, and yet--
    Some part of her half expected him to wrap his arm around her and grab her by the neck, forcing her into submission until she did as he said, looked at how pretty and dolled up she looked and accepted her place like a good pet.
    I'm not his pet. I'm not-- She stared.
    Aren't you the village's dog?
    Slowly, Mikazuki wrapped one arm around her waist in a weak half-hug, the other raising so she could lightly trace her collar bones with her bandaged fingertips.
    Uemon isn't like that anyway. It's such a ridiculous thing to come to mind. She wasn't afraid of him. He'd gone out of his way, already, to try ensuring her comfort. He had no interest or need to hurt her, she knew that. So stupid.
    What's the verdict?
    Mikazuki tilted her head slightly as she was drawn back, focusing on his question. She looked back at the mirror--the shattered reflection staring back at her. Dark circles, an expression that looked more haunted than she would have liked. Hollow. Void, tired eyes that were pale like the moon. A baggy shirt that didn't belong to her, loosely draped over her form as though she were a girlfriend borrowing her boyfriend's clothing while staying the night. Twin braids, long and neatly plaited, with a few strands falling loose and framing the sides of her face.
    It almost reminded her of that time--sporting a white flowing dress, with her hair tied back and up with a blue bow.
    It could have been cute, if it was anyone else inside of the costume. A cute young woman in casual clothes and a domestic background. But she didn't look the part.
    "It--looks nice," she answered. "They're even, and neat. You did a good job." Her compliments to the stylist. Uemon asked if she had any plans for the day, and in truth she wasn't sure. Once again, she paused--and spent far more time trying to come up with an answer than she probably should have.
    She needed to be out. Going around, investigating checkpoints, making sure the borders were secure, keeping an eye out for any brewing trouble wherever it may be arising. She should pick up a student and help them learn something new, or train in some way. She needed to put on her disguise and do something as a jinchūriki, instead of being useless and wasting time--
    But those lives were separate from her own, and she didn't know what excuse to give him.
    Does it matter? He's going to find some work to do, today, so when he leaves then you're free to do whatever and there will be no questions asked, no suspicion raised. Just say something--your silence is overly suspicious and strange.
    "I... probably will go... volunteer at the hospital, or... go... organize files at the library or... something. I'll--find something to busy myself. Don't you worry about it." Realistic options. "I should... probably go change my clothes." And give him his shirt back.

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1168 words

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[Muramasa Uemon]

two, interwoven

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Uemon's face remained deadpan as ever as he continued to braid her hair. "Flattery isn't in my skillset." 

It was the truth, as far as he was aware. The wanderer was many things, but a charmer was not among them. He had little charisma to speak of, was fairly reserved in his demeanor, and spent most of his time around others brooding.

Which made trysts like these all the more baffling— to him, especially. "Another of life's many mysteries." he thought, nodding as Mikazuki asked him if he found somewhere to work. "I did," he began. "Briefly." His employment lasted all of a few days before he was visited by Amegakure's leader himself. A polite enough meeting...

...in tone, but the limitations to his visit were made explicit "When I met the Rokudaime, he made it clear that he doesn't want us here, so..." Last night he mentioned this meeting to her, but... they both got more than a little distracted, so he did not have time to expound. "...the two of us will be moving on soon, it seems."

Somewhere more hospitable... to the east, perhaps. "Ninja and their paranoia," he thought, frowning ever so slightly. For people so concerned with bloodlines and village secrets falling into the wrong hands, he would never understand how every Kage or Lord were not all competing to employ expendable contractors like himself. Wandering-nin knew no secrets, and had no village kekkei genkai to lose. "Not everyone has a mind for strategy, I suppose."

A foolish misstep, but one that he had little control of. Until a better solution came about, he would simply go where he could find work. And those villages who dared to make use of 'outsiders' would benefit, while the others, unreasonably suspicious as they were, would not. It was a tad frustrating... but, for now, he had no say in the matter. 

Hanagisa worked as a sellsword for as long as he knew her, and Suppa made ends meet via less scrupulous means. Both viable options, just elsewhere. "I want you to eat." Uemon replied. "I've seen your pantry— it's barren." He had no hidden motive, but by now, he knew her well enough to understand that she would always look for such things. "Besides," he continued on. "Kota likes you." There was a pause, and then... "...in his way." Still, the choice was ultimately hers. So he had little more to say on the matter as he led her to the mirror to look at his work.

Mikazuki approved, and he watched her body language as she stared at her reflection. "I should hope so," he said in response to them being even, checking to make sure the hair ties were still secure over the braids' ends. Uemon took another look, then nodded. "Otherwise, my sisters were walking around with lopsided hair for years."

One of his responsibilities as the second eldest child was looking after his younger siblings. He had to learn for their sake. "I'm not worried," he replied, having noted her long silence. "Just curious." Mika mentioned changing and he nodded... then, gently brushed each braid over a shoulder to hang in front. "I should put a shirt on," he said.

Closer now, as he stared at her in the mirror, then down to her exposed neck. "Probably..."

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[Mikazuki Aikawa]

you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※
Muramasa Uemon

Flattery wasn't in his skillset, he insisted. "Sure," Mikazuki relented, releasing a huff of air through her nose. For one who had no apparent inclination to it, he certainly seemed to have plenty enough nice things to say about her. And if he could come up with such compliments for even her, Mikazuki doubted he struggled to give pleasantries to others.
    Uemon expressed his meeting with the Ame Lord, and how it had been made apparent to him that they were not welcomed to stay for longer. Mikazuki knew Sanosuke quite well, and so she rather doubted it was exactly how Uemon perceived it. She could be wrong, of course, though... the man had allowed a nukenin into Amegakure's forces. "She was family", of course, as he'd said... but a nukenin was a nukenin. A far greater threat than some wannin who had a nine-year-old that could be used as leverage at any moment. While Mikazuki knew that he was not welcomed to Amegakure with open arms--as Amegakure had the highest security in the world, and had a history of being adverse towards strangers visiting--she knew that there wasn't likely any actual hostility towards his presence in the village. Not under Sanosuke's rule, at least.
    He'd been allowed in, after all.
    And should Uemon truly have wanted to stay in Amegakure, Mikazuki was sure some form of an arrangement could be worked out.
    Things were different from how they had been five years ago.
    "Well, you haven't been arrested or executed, so I doubt you're that unwelcomed," she spoke softly with a wry smile. "Probably for the best, though. I doubt you had any interest in settling in here, anyway." While there were many reasons he and the child could have been travelling on their own, Mikazuki figured they probably had ambitions that laid elsewhere in the world. Even if Amegakure were the most hospitable village in the world, and always had warm, sunny weather--that didn't mean it was a home fit for everyone.
    Eventually, Uemon spoke up on what it was he wanted. Directly--cutting straight to the point.
    And for that, Mikazuki looked at him oddly.
    And what if my kitchen is empty because I just go to restaurants for most of my meals because I'm not a good cook? Why do you assume I just don't take care of myself? I take much better care of myself than I did when I was a teen. Though, he wasn't wrong. "Right... Kota likes me..." she mumbled quietly, only mildly amused. And I very obviously care about hurting the feelings of a child.
    She sighed.
    "Fine." He wasn't going to be around for much longer, she supposed. So it would be fine if she humored him temporarily. It wasn't like he was a shinobi or civilian of Amegakure who would pester and bother her for the years to come if she allowed him even an inch. Of course, if he'd been a native to the village--she wouldn't have even humored their conversations nor activities from the night prior. There was a pleasantness in knowing their interactions were fleeting and meaningless, and that time would wash all memory of her away. "Probably," she echoed back to him. Then, lifting up the shirt she wore, the woman undressed herself and lightly pushed the bundle of clothing back into his hands. "I'm going to get dressed in my clothes, and I'll see you in a few minutes," she spoke before leaving to go to her own room.
    

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584 words

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