The samurai and the vow to the moon

Prologue

A small neighborhood clinic, not far from the main road. It's where I work as a doctor's assistant, helping to prepare simple medicines and treatments.

- Your medicine is ready, ma'am, I say.

- Thank you so much. You're such a great help to me, an old woman says.

- No matter how old you get, Uma, you never seem to age a day, a patient says.

- Oh-ho-ho. Well, if that's so, it's all thanks to this clinic, and our dear doctor's prescriptions, the old woman Uma says.

- No doubt about it. Which just makes me think, it's such a shame that we lost him so soon, a patient says.

- The doctor was such a kind, honest and hardworking man. He always did everything he could to help us. We may never find another like him, Uma says. The doctor, my father, collapsed one day, a year ago, exhausted from work. He never woke up.

- We all wondered what would become of this place. And we were all so glad when you decided to follow in his footsteps, and keep this clinic open, a patient says.

- I'm doing my best. But it'll be a long time before I'm half the doctor my father was, I say.

- I don't want to shuffle off this mortal coil until I've seen you reach your full potential. But I can't hang on forever, so don't let me down, Uma says. The old lady Uma gives me a heartily oat on the back, encouraging me.

- Alright. You can count on me, I say.

- Ohh. In that case, you'll be the last one standing, Uma. We'll all have kicked the bucket by then, a patient says. As usual, the clinic resounds with the laughter and good cheer of its patients.

- I can help whoever's next, I say.

After seeming Uma off, I call the next patient, who happens to be a stunningly gorgeous man.

- Who is he. He's easy on the eyes, that's for sure. But I don't recall ever seeing a guy like him around here, I say in my head. The man seems to have a little wound on his finger.

- Well, the bleeding has already stopped. It's a pretty superficial cut, but we'll dab some ointment on it, just to be safe, I say.

- Thank you, the young man says. I look through one of the medical books my father left me, confirming the correct dosage. Then, from the massive chest of drawers, I pull out two particular kinds of dried medicine.

- Why does he have to stare at me like that. It's making me nervous, I say in my head.

- Are, are you alright, the young man asks.

- Huh. Oh. Yes, of course. It'll only take me a moment to prepare this, I say.

- That's not what I meant. Your face. It's quite red, the young man says.

- What, I ask.

- You haven't got a fever, by chance, have you, the young man asks. The young man's hand reaches towards my forehead.

- I'm fine. It's just getting a little hot in here, I say. In panic, I swat his hand away, but the young man responds by smiling coldly.

-Hmph. Is that so. Well in that case, I suppose it's no problem. But a doctor who neglects her own health. Well, that's nothing to smile about, the young man says. His charming smile makes my heart skip a beat, and then start pounding wildly.

- What is wrong with me. Letting myself get so worked up during a patient examination, I say in my head. So that he won't see me blushing, I purposely look away from him, and focus on my task. But then, I overhear the other patients talking in the waiting area.