wanderer's moon | kaedehara kazuha

13 | struck by heavy rain

tw: blood

To say that their journey the next day is awkward is an understatement.

The blue sky is covered by a thick blanket of clouds, obscuring the sun that even its rays could not pierce through. The waves are bleak and quiet as they arrive on shore, even the birds would not dance without the tides' song. There is a metallic scent on a passing breeze—this all conveys to Kazuha that rain is coming.

They had long set off from Jakotsu Mine as their camp, wandering along the shores near a deserted village where masterless samurai roam, yet when the two are about to reach the port to sail to Watatsumi Island—the incoming weather feels like an omen of their current situation.

Along the way, Kazuha gladly directed and instructed Nara where to walk and dared to speak only when she needed help in crossing broken bridges and uneven paths. Even when there are instances where the air feels clear enough to spark a conversation, silence cuts through between them each time Nara abruptly looks away. Kazuha is not saddened or hurt by her sudden coldness, yet he could not help but feel worried. The distance between them broadened each minute with Nara at the front, only speaking when inquiring on which way to go.

Nearly there, Kazuha ponders, skimming past Nara's figure to catch a glimpse of the port gladly accompanied by a decent boat of its size. Even though it will rain soon, it is still not a storm that would sway its violent waves in its sails.

Another breeze whiffs past him, a subtle hint of salt and a faint scent of—

Kazuha's eyes widened.

—danger.

"Nara-san! Look ou—" Too little too late that by the time he realized it, a ronin jumped out from around the corner in front of Nara, capturing her in their arm while their right hand holds a blade to her neck. Scampered footsteps gather behind him and one from his ten o'clock—four, he counts, two behind him, one from left and one in front with Nara.

Kazuha could hear the way Nara shuddered with fear on her neck where the edge of the blade grazes, threatening to pierce her skin open. Her arms are trapped under an assertive one, gripping and clutching her tight that escape is impossible. Only then did she try to jerk her way through, but the blade on her neck grazed her skin slightly.

"Do not move, Nara-san," he warns as he took a stance of his clan's sword art, blade at the ready, trained eyes darting on each ronin. "Now, what is it that you want from us?"

"Consider this a fair trade," the ronin holding Nara hostage spoke. "Give us everything we want and we'll let you go."

Kazuha narrowed his eyes. "...What do you want?"

"Oh the usual—money, food and whatnots," they cackled, but not for long as they glared at the maple samurai. "Better make it quick before I tear her to pieces."

"If that is all you desired then holding someone hostage shouldn't be necessary. This could've been a civilized negotiation if you're so desperate for survival." Kazuha could not ignore the blatant lie that was defiling the wind. There is something else that these ronin wanted other than the basic needs of living. There is malice hidden in their scent of peril and it smelled dreadful on the tip of his nose.

The ronin chuckled in a way that made Nara whimper in their grasp, and when they leaned close to her vulnerable neck, blade out of touch—a part of Kazuha's sanity shredded at the sight.

"Well...perhaps you're right. We are desperate," the ronin's gaze flickered to Kazuha and smirked. "Desperate for some company." The arm holding her moved dangerously close to Nara's chest. Her breath hitched at the foreign contact, and Kazuha gritted his teeth.