Spear, iPhone And 19th Century

Text 1: Broccoli

"You sure the culprit went this way?"

"Positive."

"You're not saying the thief is pretending to be asleep right in front of us, are you?"

I hear a few distant voice echoing back and forth somewhere around me, their strange accent is the first thing I noticed. That and the fact that they all are male voices. My eyes ache to crack open, but I resist the urge and squint them shut.

I have this feeling they were referring the whoever culprit it is in this ungodly hour to the innocent me.

"Oi, miss. Wake up."

I feel something hard and metallic poking my cheek, making my heart race. Should I open my eyes and say good morning, or should I confess the last crime I committed was stealing a broccoli from my sister's plate when she wasn't looking?

Someone in the group snorted, "We know you're awake, miss."

"At least try to cover yourself properly if you want to sleep in public. Your legs are showing."

On impulse, my eyes shot open and my hands instinctively covered my folded legs. Only to discover they were safely tucked under a fabric that later I fathom is a kimono.

Wha-?

"Gotcha, miss." One of the man clad in white-blue uniform squats before me, smirking. "Now spill. Care to explain why did you steal this little vegetable from the store?"

I follow his stare to my hand. My breath was caught short when I saw a fresh broccoli in one hand, but later to my relief I could feel my iPhone safely tucked in my other hand.

My head is in jumble. Where did this broccoli comes from? And who is this man? Why does he wears a cloth, that I recalled were sold as souvenirs in Kyōto district during my school trip few years back?

And what is that black sheathed thing on his waist?

Plastic sword?

Are they cosplaying?

I look down at myself.

And what am I doing here wearing a kimono sleeping under a tree?

More importantly, where am I?

"Oi. You guys found him?" A rowdy voice sounded from behind them. I alerted myself of the predicament when I saw him carrying leisurely of what seemed like a genuine sword across his shoulder.

"Apparently it's not a him, Nagakura-taichou." one man responds, then directed his gaze at me, "but a her."

"Her?" The man called Nagakura peeks at me with his head tilted, eyebrows arch high as he scrutinize me from head to toe. I could tell that he is considering something. He place his fingers on his chin in a thoughtful manner, after a while of thinking he finally speaks. "You."

I flinch, and my finger twitch slightly from dialing the emergency call behind my back.

"Y-yes?"

The man sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Why did you steal? You don't have any money to eat? Where do you live?" He used to sound boisterous before because then, with a weary face, he sheathes his sword and tucks his hand into his pocket before pulling out a few antique shillings for me to have. I wonder if he's one of those guys who finds handling a man much easier than a woman.

"Coins?"

Seeing me looking at the coins with a wary look, he said. "It's only a few ryō. Buy yourself some food and go look for a job. Like those damnable foreigners said, 'those who don't work neither shall he eat'." He said, taking out another few coins until his empty pocket poking out from his pants. Contradicting to his fierce face, I can feel the warmth of his kindness. Though I can't comprehend why did he give me money that only the museum would take them in.