[ayase saki]

The first week passed in a haze. Saki barely remembered getting on the boat that brought her to Port City, and remembered even less how she’d managed to get signed on with the merchant caravan traveling further west. How she’d gotten there, where she was going; it was all lost to the ache in the back of her head. Most nights she woke up with blood having oozed from the still-healing wound in her head to stain her pillow. At some point she’d cobbled together a fake ID, had decided on her new name, had burned her fingerprints off with a mixture of white-hot flame and corrosive cleaning fluids. She could not source the scars on her body, and the images of blood and carnage weighed heavy on her mind, but she was not Kyodai Ayaka anymore. Whoever that woman had been, Saki wanted nothing to do with her. This was her life now. Born anew. With only a couple of fights with bandits and one wolf attack punctuating the journey, Saki woke one day to find that the caravan was checking in at the gates of Kusagakure, and grimly she thought: well, it was nice while it lasted. Surely her criminal record had made it this far west already, and she would be arrested and sent back east as soon as the file of the murder she’d committed in a blood-soaked fugue state was brought to light. But on the dim, dim hope that she might have gotten lucky, that she might have gotten here just fast enough to beat the news, Saki kept her cool. The caravan was inventoried fastidiously, and each merchant and hired protector checked in by either one of the two gate guards on duty. One of the guards was a teenage girl around Saki’s size, maybe a little taller and a little thinner, with vibrant red hair and an expression that seemed kind by default. This was the girl that Saki gave her forged ID to. Her own expression was neutral, though this was less by design and more by disassociation; the raucous eruption of life that laid beyond Kusagakure’s gates was overwhelming, the heavy drumbeat of hundreds of hearts deafening against Saki’s ears. The exterior effect was that of a consummate professional, obediently acquiescing to the security demands of a shinobi village, maintaining a cool and disaffected air all the while.

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[Honō Saya]

"Do enjoy your visit, Fujiyama-san." Saya said, handing the older woman before her her papers as she spoke, honey-yellow gaze as bright and cheerful as her voice. Behind the old woman stretched a short line that merged into a substantial crowd of people, mostly merchants and their guards, all waiting to enter Kusagakure. The caravan had been an expected hassle, one that she and the other Gate Guards had handled before, regardless of the grumbling that came from the long hours of having to actually work at their job rather than sit around reading manga or catching up on sleep.

I swear, they act like this is an awful job to have! She thought, scribbling down the woman’s name and information into her logbook as the line shuffled forward. Most of the other Guards chose to take down a visitor’s information while they were speaking with the person, but she preferred to do so after they had already passed inspection- it felt more personal that way, and allowed her to get a better read on who was entering into the village… as well as why. She’d caught more than her fair share of criminals trying to sneak into Kusa by simply talking to them more than they expected- and when she wasn’t doing that, she still got to enjoy some fairly good company.

Another shape, vaguely feminine in form, crossed Saya’s peripheral vision as she finished writing down the older woman’s information, her gaze flickering up as she spoke, voice bright and cheery in a welcoming way that, nonetheless, held a fair bit of authority behind it. "Hello there. If you could just hand me your papers…"

O-oh. The Hono girl blinked, eyes going just a hair wide as she took in the woman in front of her; roughly of a height with her and slightly heavier, with dark hair and striking golden-brown eyes, there was a presence to the woman that both captivated and set her on edge. There was nothing she could have concretely pointed to that made the woman stand out, nothing that would have put her as anything but unassumingly pretty, and yet…

"H-Hi." She said, blinking slightly as heat spiraled across her cheeks, unsettling her otherwise cheerful demeanor and infusing her voice with a degree of nervousness that made it hard for her to think. Just like with Umechika in Akazaya, her brain turned to mush, every clever and intelligent thing she could say or do slipping away as she looked down at the woman’s already offered identification, gleaning her name with a shaky smile before taking the card to better inspect it and see if she was on any list that would deny her entry.

"What… what brings you to Kusgakure today, Ayase-san?"

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

Minutes blitzed by without Saki’s awareness. Her movements were mechanical, rote, her consciousness refusing to acknowledge the gate guard’s greeting or that her identification had been taken from her hand. Without it, her hand fell back to the katana at her hip by default, resting there as casually as a bird in its nest. Her eyes were glazed over, looking somewhere just to the side and behind Saya’s right cheek while her mind indulged in decadent fantasy, the thundering staccato of heartbeats in her awareness painting the village crimson one cracked ribcage at a time. It was a full thirty seconds too long before she realized that she had been spoken to; she’d yet to form an attachment to her new name, the Aya- registering belatedly as her wandering mind slowly sank back into the meat of her brain. She blinked once—for the first time in three minutes—and smiled. "Picked up some work as part of a protection detail coming out of Port City in Hi no Kuni,” she said, utterly oblivious to the question she was answering but delivering the response she’d practiced nonetheless. "Job with them is done, so I’m hoping to pick up more work while I’m here.” Saki gave the girl a once-over. There was a pretty red flush across her cheeks, blood rising hot to the surface of her skin, and as Saki tried to reign her awareness in it resulted primarily in the quick-step of Saya’s heartbeat thudding louder in her ears. "Surprised they got a pretty girl like you stuck on guard duty like this,” she said, defaulting to the comfortable, the familiar, the flattery that would take attention away from her poor facsimile of personhood and pin it instead on her lovely victim. "What's your name?”

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There was a long, eerie space in between when Saya’s lips closed in on her question and when the woman in front of her responded; it took a good thirty seconds before Saki’s golden-brown gaze even seemed to register that she was there, her pretty face flat and almost devoid of emotion. Despite this, it was concern, not suspicion, that bloomed in the Hono girl’s mind, her blushing face twisting in a slightly worried frown as she looked at the foreign woman’s odd attitude. However, before she could voice her concerns the other woman spoke, her voice clipped but otherwise professional as she laid out what she was doing in Kusa… among other things.

"I-I see. That’s… very kind of you." She replied, glancing away from the older woman as she took her identification, doing her best not to look like a sputtering idiot as she looked over the paperwork, checking her picture against a list of wanted criminals who were to be detained on sight- and those who were to be let in without making a fuss. She paused for a moment near a name out of Hana no Kuni that had no picture, the description brief and lacking in details, but a quick glance was enough for her to dismiss the notion outright, her thoughts dwelling far more heavily on the unsolicited compliment than any similarity there might be between Ayase Saki and Sasaki Ayaka.

"My name is Saya and… Well, I asked for this position, actually." Saya said, her lips parting in a light smile as she folded Saki’s id closed and handed it back to her, along with a clipboard, a pen, and a single blank sheet for the black-haired woman to fill out. "It’s an easy job, and I get to meet a lot of interesting people." That she’d been transferring out of her good-for-nothing Genin team was something the other woman didn’t need to know.

"Oh! I almost forgot." She said, her blush deepening as she stood, offering her hand to Saki as she spoke, her voice regaining some of its previous brightness, even if the nervous energy from before still diffused through it. "Welcome to Kusagakure, Ayase-san."

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

There was a distant part of Saki that felt bad—Saya was clearly unused to being complimented, inexperience writ plain across her blushing face, and Saki knew objectively that manipulating people was a Bad Thing to Do. It was not, she thought, something that Ayase Saki should be doing. But it worked. Saya cross-checked her ID with whatever little list she had in hand and gave the identification back without comment or fuss, and Saki thought that a little guilt was a small price to pay for getting through the gates without issue. "Hey, it’s not a bad gig,” Saki said. She tucked her identification away into a pocket and took the clipboard in hand, glancing over the sheet to see what information she needed to fill out—name, occupation, country of origin, purpose and estimated duration of visit. All simple enough. "I’d kill for a job like this, but not a lot of villages looking to hire foreigners for their border patrol.” Her pen lingered briefly on the country of origin field without writing. What the hell had she put on her ID again? She couldn’t very well take it out to check, but she had to put down the right information— Saki’s hesitation was interrupted by Saya’s extended hand. Momentarily and unintentionally saved, Saki smiled, shifting everything over to one hand so she could shake Saya’s with the other—a firm grip, her index finger lingering over her pulse point for a few seconds too long for comfort. She turned Saya’s hand in her own to look at the back, layers of skin over tissue and sinew and bone. "Thanks, Saya,” she said. "You have nice hands. Strong knuckles. Good fingerbones.” Forest Country. Saki released her grip on Saya’s hand and wrote it down, then filled out the rest of the form. "Swordsman?” she asked. "You’ve got the callouses for it.”

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Strong grip. Saya thought, her blush fading only slightly as Saki took her offered hand, her grip firm but not vice-like, index finger resting on the edge of her pulse point for perhaps a second too long. Rather than let go, however, the other woman turned her hand over, gaze flicking down to inspect the back with a keen eye that brought the redhead’s blush roaring back. A-and observant. Definitely a mercenary.

"T-thanks." The Hono girl said, stuttering only slightly as she let the other woman’s hand go, her hesitation over a particular spot on the form going utterly unnoticed as she remained upright, taking in slow, steady breaths to try and get her heart rate under control. "Try” being the operative word as, despite her best efforts, the beating in her chest simply would not calm down; her breathing was slow and thready, the blush running across her face had spread down her neck and into her spine, sending a shock of electricity through her limbs that made it difficult for her to concentrate on anything but the shape of the older woman’s lips.

"You have nice… lips." She said, the words spilling out in a nervous rush; it took a moment for her head to catch up to her mouth, the words playing over in her mind for a good three seconds before it finally dawned on the redhead just how weird it sounded. Oh God, what the fuck am I saying?

"S-sorry. I-I uh…" Saya began, her voice trailing off as she looked away from Saki- who, blessedly, took the attention off of her slowly building mortification by asking a question. "Yes. I am. A swordsman, that is. Practice every day." The redhead paused then, hands falling to her side as she clenched and unclenched them, doing her best to not meet the older woman’s gaze directly, if only so she didn’t have to look Saki in the eye when she said something stupid again.

"Do you practice? Swordsmanship, I mean. You’ve got callouses too." The Hono girl extended her right hand forward as she spoke, expecting Saki to hand her the clipboard and paperwork… and hopefully end this debacle before she made an even bigger fool of herself than she already had.

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

For all the crimes that Saki had committed, both known and unknown, surely there was not a one so uniquely depraved as flustering a girl so clearly unused to receiving a precise, genuine compliment. Saki’s ulterior motive had already been achieved; she’d gained entry to Kusagakure, had her ID in hand and her paperwork filled out, and could be on her way without interruption or issue. Prolonging the interaction now was pure self-indulgence. She’d not put much thought into her appearance since she’d woken up; her actions were driven by necessity, scraping together just enough resources to flee somewhere she could start her new life in peace. Saki knew she unsettled people, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that attraction could be part of the equation. Her nice lips curved into a sly smile, syrupy-sweet, amusement fluttering warm in her belly. It was almost enough to pry her mind away from the green-blue veins that lingered beneath delicate pale skin; a charmingly wholesome source of entertainment. Saki’s tongue darted out briefly to wet her lips before deftly, kindly posing her question. Did she practice swordsmanship? "Mm. I do,” Saki said, looking down at the callouses on her own hands—different, in subtle ways, from those of a traditional kenjutsu practitioner. "I switch up styles every so often, but I’ve preferred a katana lately.” Nothing technically false, as far as she was aware—exactly what weapons she had used in the past were still a mystery to her, but instinct made her competent enough with a sword that she wasn’t terribly worried about it. She handed the clipboard back, complete with requisite information accurately filled out to the persona she had crafted for herself. She would be entering Kusagakure proper… and with little to occupy herself with, now that her first job was done. Finding new work would have to be her top priority, but dread twisted in her gut at the prospect of being aimless with so many bodies around her. "I’m gonna need a place to stay for a night or two,” Saki said after a moment. "Got any recommendations?” The corner of her mouth twitched, quietly entertained by some private amusement. "Tell me where to stay the night so you’ll know where to find me when you get off the clock.”

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[Honō Saya]

Saya nodded attentively as Saki answered her question, dutifully placing the woman’s paperwork in with the rest of today’s entries, all while doing everything in her power to not look directly at the older womans nice lips, nor the way she wet them at her awkwardly worded compliment. No, instead the redhead focused on the paperwork, her brain going haywire as she shifted papers, signed lines, and stamped places in a whirl of activity that kept her from doing or saying anything to embarrass herself even further… though she did listen, despite what it looked like.

"I use a falchion myself." She said once the paperwork was finished, lifting her gaze up just enough to meet Saki’s without glancing anywhere else; it had taken her a few breaths, but the rampaging embarrassment from before was under control, and she was confident there wasn’t going to be any sort of repeat. All she had to do was keep her answers succinct enough to be professional and everything would be fine. Really.

"Oh, there are several inns you can stay at nearby." Saya responded, her lips parting in a soft smile at the older woman’s question; it wasn’t until the mercenary finished, however, that the full implications of what she’d said hit her, setting her cheeks bright red once more as she looked up into Saki’s gaze, her confusion and embarrassment clear as day. "I-I… Well, I mean…"

The redhead took in a deep breath, her voice fumbling into silent murmurings as she looked down at the paperwork. She could hear her heart beating through her eardrums, the blush boiling over from her cheeks to engulf her whole face as she fidgeted in place, as if her brain had been entirely overloaded by what was going on. After a long moment, she let loose her breath and pushed through the embarrassment with stuttering determination, her voice soft and shaky.

"T-there’s an inn not f-far from here called ‘Kusatsu.’ It's attached to an o-onsen, so you can’t m-miss it." Saya paused then, taking in another breath as she looked up, meeting the older woman’s smoldering, almost amused gaze her own, refusing to back down despite the pounding in her ears. "I g-get off in a few hours. I could… show you around town, if you want?"

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

Saya’s cheeks flushed nearly as red as her hair, a charming trait that spoke to healthy blood vessels and a strong heart rate. Saki, amused, leaned back against the caravan she’d been tasked with protecting, waiting patiently for and mercifully for Saya to gather herself enough to stutter through what she wanted to say. … which was accepting Saki’s invitation, apparently. That was a surprise; she’d thought Saya would be too anxious and Saki herself too forward for that to be an option. A surprise, but not an unpleasant one. Company would keep her occupied, keep her mind from wandering too far afield for comfort. "I’d love a tour,” Saki said, and pushed off the caravan. "Kusatsu? I’ll go check in. I’ll see you later, Saya. Bring your falchion.” Pure curiosity. She had no idea what a falchion looked like. Saki made her exit, passing through the gate before the line got too backed up behind her and the grumbling grew too loud; if there was a little extra swagger in her step as she entered Kusagakure proper, well. Kusatsu-attached-to-an-onsen wasn’t hard to find. Its rates were higher than what Saki was hoping to pay—she hadn’t brought much money with her on her flight, and she hadn’t earned much from the job she’d just finished—but it was clean and seemed comfortable and there was the promise of a pretty girl coming to find her later, so Saki refrained from gagging as she paid the fee for the smallest room for a single night and made herself comfortable. With a few hours to burn she could enjoy the onsen, and by the time Saya came to find her Saki would be resting with a cup of the locally brewed coffee in the common area of the in, swathed in a dark yukata with her hair piled high on her head, deep scarring and heavy metal staples clearly visible at the base of her skull.

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[Honō Saya]

Saya blinked, her beet-red face burning as Saki spoke, the older woman’s words washing over her without really registering; she heard them, of course, knew that they meant something, but the part of her brain meant to process such things simply wasn’t working at the moment, fried to a crisp by both the mercenary’s forwardness and her own, horribly scandalous boldness in accepting her proposition. The blank-headedness didn’t last long, just enough for the dark-haired woman to depart and another would-be entrant to take her place, but the fact that she had to recover from it at all meant the redhead spent the rest of her shift in a daze, going through the motions without really thinking about anything else. Eventually, her replacement checked in, leaving the Hono girl to her own devices… and the intrusive thoughts that had been lingering in her head ever since.

What am I doing? She thought, brushing a lock of bright-red hair away from her face as she rounded a corner; she was still in her work uniform, her long legs carrying her from the guard booth towards Kusatsu despite the many, many second thoughts she was having. She knew next to nothing about Ayase Saki, had nothing in common with the older woman beside a shared appreciation for a good blade… and yet, somehow, here she was, about to go on a bonafide date with a complete stranger! It would have been laughable if she hadn’t been so damn nervous- the Hono Genin could feel her heart beating halfway out of her chest, her hands shaking with every thready, uneven breath, as if she was on the verge of having a complete breakdown.

And yet, she kept walking.

It didn’t take long for her to find the place, a few minutes at most, nor did it take much for her to lay eyes on the older woman who had brought her here; dressed in a dark yukata, Saki had holed herself up in a corner of the inn’s common room with good access to the closest exists and no blind spots. There was a cup of seaming liquid in her hands, and her dark hair was pulled up in a loose bun tha-

"Oh my god." Saya murmured, moving towards the older woman with quick, hurried steps, honey-yellow gaze wide with surprise, her nervousness and embarrassment melting away at the sight of the staples gleaming out the back of Saki’s head. They were accompanied by a set of deep, nasty looking scars, the kind that even someone as untrained in medicine as her could recognize as being both fresh and very, very bad. She stopped next to the woman and, without any warning, leaned into her personal space, right hand grabbing the mercenary’s as she shot off a series of rapidfire questions, voice firm and filled with concern, all thought of flirting and what might come after gone.

"Are you ok? What happened? Do you need to go to the hospital? How are you… how are you even up?”

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

The coffee was good. Rich, full-bodied, pleasant aftertaste that lingered on the tongue, though she could feel it turning her breath sour as the minutes ticked by. She’d have to see if the inn had any complimentary mints lying around— —rabbit-quick heartbeat echoing behind hurried footsteps; Saki glanced up to see a vibrant bob of red hair, her mouth forming the words hey there but cut off before she could force them from her throat by a hand grasping hers and animal heat in her personal space, the rush of Saya’s blood roaring in Saki’s ears— The mug shattered in Saki’s hands, ceramic stabbing into her palms and steaming hot coffee spilling over the table as she jerked away, prying herself halfway free of the bench before she lassoed her self-control and cinched the rope tight. "Sorry, sorry,” she said, searching around for napkins—grabbing a loose one she found nearby, careful not to smear any blood from her palms on the fabric before tossing it over to Saya, in case she needed to clean herself up. "You scared the shit out of me. Is everything alright, did something happen?” She hadn’t even heard Saya’s barrage of questions, was barely cognizant of anything beyond the eyes of the inn now firmly on her and the coppery smell of blood flooding her senses. She breathed deep, picked the shards of ceramic out from her hands. Still in control.

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[Honō Saya]

Saya blinked, and in that time frame Saki moved, viper-quick, blurring out of the booth and away from the redhead before she had time to even blink. Scalding hot liquid splashed on the ground, the sound of ceramic shattering hit her ears, the coffee staining her qipao brown as it leaked through onto her skin, making her hiss in pain… but she pushed through it, turning to the mercenary woman with a concerned frown.

"I’m fine." She said, taking the offered napkin from the older woman’s hand, only to notice the shards of ceramic sticking from her palms. Drops of blood, bright and crimson, welled up in the wounds, threatening to spill out and onto the hardwood floors, which would most assuredly make a mess neither of them had the money to clean up. So, with a soft sigh, the redhead turned her gaze away from Saki, glaring at the other patrons for a brief moment before she returned her attention to the injured mercenary- and spoke, softly, so as not to trigger whatever the hell that had just been.

"You, on the other hand, are bleeding, and have a giant set of staples in the back of your head." Saya said, stepping forward to gently, carefully take the other woman’s hands in her own, using the offered napkin to blot up the cuts before they began to properly leak blood all over the both of them. "Are you sure you’re ok? I’ve never seen anyone move that fast, even when scared."

Well, that wasn’t entirely true- Koji had moved like that once, when he was using that new technique he had learned, but that had been an A ranked technique, something few Shinobi ever learned how to use, let alone displayed so… casually. Who are you, Ayase Saki?

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

"I’m fine,” Saki said, rote memorization of call-and-response carving through fog to break free of her lips. Are you okay? I’m fine. Are you hurt? I’m fine. You didn’t come home last night, is everything alright? I’m fine. Everything’s fine. She smiled, aiming for the right balance between sheepish and charming and missing the mark. Too many teeth. "Quick reflexes from a traumatic backstory, you know how it is.” Close enough to the truth to be delivered sincerely, embarrassingly vulnerable enough that ideally a stranger wouldn’t pry more. She needed to salvage this situation, and quickly, a feat hard to accomplish with Saya’s warm fingers gently cupping her hands and her heartbeat raging in Saki’s ears. She wanted to back away, but there was nowhere to go, so she busied herself with picking shards of ceramic out of the meat of her hands and tried very hard to push the image of stabbing them into Saya’s eyes out of her mind. "I forgot about the staples,” she said, and that was one-hundred-percent sincere. "Sorry. It’s not pretty. I don’t remember how it happened, and after the hospital let me go I just needed to…” Artistry, her mind helpfully supplied, a picture-perfect tableau of gore splattered against cobblestone, insides on the boy’s outsides, his pretty face perfectly intact. Still in control. "... leave,” she finished. "Thanks, Saya. Didn’t mean to… dump all this on you.” Another sheepish grin, landing closer to the correct blend of embarrassed and heartfelt. "Not a great impression to make on a date.”

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[Honō Saya]

Saya stared at Saki’s face, honey-yellow gaze full of concern; she didn’t quite believe the mercenary woman’s insistence that she was "fine,” her tone and the distant look in her eye telling a tale of something far deeper than just being startled. But the redhead didn’t push, her grip on the older woman’s hand tightening by a hair as she helped to pick the last few shards of ceramic from her palm… and if she blushed, just a little, at the blaise way in which the dark-haired woman announced that this was a date? Well, she didn’t push on that either.

"Don’t worry about it." The Hono girl replied, her voice soft as she kept hold of Saki’s hand, enjoying the warmth for a few extra moments before she cleared her throat and stepped back, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear looking away. Perhaps it was simply the lingering concern, but she felt markedly less embarrassed now than she had before- still flustered, certainly, but no longer incapable of speaking in anything but sputtering disbelief.

Well. Mostly.

"S-so, why don’t we sit down?" Saya said, gesturing awkwardly towards the table Saki had picked out, one half still dripping with steaming hot coffee. "Or… not."

ayase saki

[ayase saki]

"Yeah, probably not,” Saki said, exhaling a breathy, sheepish laugh. One of the workers came by with wet towels and a mop to clean up the mess, and aggressively shooed Saki away when she leaned in to try to help, so she stepped away from the steaming scene of the crime. She was in her post-bath yukata, so she was decent enough to be wandering around town—though perhaps it would be wise to take her hair down, to avoid causing another scene. She unbound it and let it fall free to her shoulders, loose and light, her fringe clearly a little too long and in need of a trim. Her fingers still trembled and she undoubtedly got blood in her hair, but she didn’t much care right at that moment. The worker passed her a wad of gauze and a roll of bandages, which she gladly accepted to wrap up her palms until the bleeding stopped. "Can we order to go?” she asked hopefully. Saki might have been concerned that Saya wanted to bail, but clearly she didn’t, if she was still volunteering to sit down. "Could take a walk, if you’re willing to play tour guide.” Would also help her scope out some potential job opportunities to take her back out of town, if she was lucky. She really didn’t want to linger too long. "Or you could show me that falchion of yours—though I doubt you want to think about work, since you just finished.” She was being pushy, chatty, she could hear it in her own voice; eager to move on, put the incident behind them, occupy her mind with something other than the smell of wet copper and the taste-memory of meat.

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