Like the Princess She Isn't

More Than I Bargained For.

Clang!

The sound of metal hitting metal woke her up. The young girl blinked open her dark eyes and sat straight up in bed (nothing but a small pallet of blankets folded on the wood floor) and stared out the circular, slatted window to her left.

Clang!

She pushed to her feet, threw her blanket over her pallet, and wandered to her little drawers. I say little because the peices of furniture were each only one foot tall and two feet wide.

Clang!

She got a black shirt and dark purple hakama out, pulling them on and tucking her shirt into her hakama before tying it all together with a black obi. She had to remain stooped over through it all to be sure she didn't hit her head on the ceiling (there was only a three foot space between the floor and ceiling.)

Clang!

She picked up a purple ribbon and tied her angel-thin, straight black hair up in a ponytail as she made her way over to a square hatch on the floor in the middle of the room and gripped the handle, pulling it up and staring down into darkness.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

She picked up a rope ladder nearby, connected it to two hooks on the ceiling of the room below, and dropped the roll downwards, listening to the wooden rungs clatter against each other as it unfurled. She climbed down onto it and reached up, pulling the hatch shut before climbing down until solid ground met her feet. She then turned around, pulled open a panel, and stepped out into a hall.

"Hey."

She jumped a little as she turned towards the unfamiliar male voice and saw a boy with spikey black hair, onyx eyes, a dark blue shirt and black shorts. He smirked up at her (because she was taller) and she frowned. "Hi."

She knew she wasn't usually supposed to speak to the people who came around, but those people weren't usually supposed to be in the house. Besides, this kid wasn't a customer of her father's. She would have recognized him; most customers were regulars and she has never seen this kid before.

"The name's Madara." He held out a hand, and she stared at it in trepidation. She was positive he shouldn't be here. She was positive she shouldn't talk to him. She knew for a fact that she wasn't allowed to talk to him; her father would beat her senseless if he found out she did. He sensed her hesitation and lowered his hand. "What, too good for me or something?"

She shook her head. "I'm not supposed to talk to...visitors." And you're not supposed to be in the house, she added mentally.

"Ahhhh, so I'm the one who's too good for you. Fine by me." He said with a grin before walking past her. But, not before giving her a - playful? - shove to the side. She righted herself quickly and followed him as he walked to the kitchen.

"Do you need something?" She asked. He glanced back at her and nodded.

"Water for my father and Master Yuiko." Fetching drinks for their fathers, then. She gathered three bamboo water bottles and handed one to him before leading him outside. He looked confused as he followed her. "I only need two..."

"I will give them the water. That one is for you." She said as she walked - barefoot as she was accustomed - the fifty yards out to her father's workshop (a dark wooden building with a chimney that belted out smoke endlessly and always seemed forty degrees hotter inside when she was assisting as an apprentice). Madara rushed ahead just enough to open the enormous wooden door for her, and she glanced at him in alarm at his aid before bowing her head to him in thanks and immediately casting her gaze downward as she rushed into the shop, fell to one knee and held up the two water bottles. She heard footsteps and lowered her head just a little more.