Koromi did not dream.

  She floated in an endless black nothingness, which to her perception lasted both an infinite amount of time and no time at all. A strange warped feeling. It felt at once as if she might never leave that darkness, and that she had barely spent any time there at all.

  When she awoke, she did so slowly. Groggily, her vision blurry as her eyes parted to reveal the dim room around her.

  Lying in the mortician’s bed, surrounded by a sea of beads, Kami statuettes and wind chimes. The bed was set into the wall in a little nook, with a lowered ceiling over it. Somewhere far above, a train rumbled over the stacked buildings, and the chimes idly sounded off in response to the vibrations, blanketing the room in soft melodic sound.

  Koromi lay still as the memories of what had happened at the inn flooded back to her. How she had heard a voice pleading to save her, accepted its aid, and with unnatural power cut down her foes. She remembered being injured, being carried by Kesa. So much blood and so much pain. Then darkness.

  She thought to herself that she should have been panicked and fearful, for she was in a strange new place and had no memory of how she’d gotten there. Yet her assailants had wanted her dead, and she was alive. Logically, Kesa must have gotten her to safety. That was the sort of logic she’d never use ordinarily, but the sharp pain she felt in her abdomen and shoulder when she tried to sit up willed her to lie still and think it over.

  Someone had carefully treated her wounds. Her traveling attire had been removed in favor of a lighter house yukata colored a deep brown. Robotic digits felt across her shoulder where she’d been shot, and sense-pads in the fingertips fed the texture of bandages to her brain. Likewise her side was tightly bandaged, the wrappings extending across her midsection for support. Both sets were clean, likely replaced recently.

  Koromi attempted to move her left arm, and felt phantom pain roil through her wrist, elbow and shoulder. When the fingertips of her right hand trailed lower, she found the robotic left arm had been removed entirely, and only the organic stump tightly wrapped in bandages remained.

  The arm was designed to come off for easy maintenance, but its absence did instill some deeper fear in Koromi. Awakening without a limb was a shocking thing that made her heart suddenly race, though she willed it to still again as she reminded herself it was likely damaged due to her shoulder. Had someone wished to, they could have easily taken both.

  At last, Koromi willed herself to sit up, wheezing as she fought through the pain to throw her legs off the edge of the bed and sit properly. Immediately she felt lightheaded, her vision swimming, as the blood circulating in her body struggled to keep up.

  Her daishō was propped up against the bedside, along with her bag. Carefully leaning over to grab the bag and pull it onto the bed, Koromi found its surface was deeply stained with dark red, dried blood. Nobody had gotten around to cleaning it apparently, though they likely did not want to root through a Samurai’s belongings to do so.

  A handgun was inside the bag, similarly caked in blood, which it had smeared to other belongings inside. Koromi scowled at the messy thing, recognizing it as Akimo’s pistol, which Kesa had taken. She batted it aside in the bag to withdraw the Igashi S-35, flicking the power switch on it and letting the machine boot up.

  No new messages. No voicemails. No replies.

  Koromi selected Mako’s number in the contact list and hit ‘dial’. It rang. Rang. Rang… And slid into voicemail. Koromi turned the phone off again, her heart aching. She had to reach Edo and find Mako… But now she was in danger as well.

  Oda Michisue… Those had been his men in the inn. The Ashigaru she’d killed – the Ashigaru she’d slaughtered. It had once been possible that Koromi misinterpreted Sakai Kazukata, and incorrectly assumed the Shogun was dead. Michisue’s attempt on her life however could not have been born solely out of anger that she’d disrespected him by vanishing, and must surely have been to silence her regarding the Shogun’s death. The upper echelons of Oda did not want anyone to know…

  Koromi was wrenched from her thoughts by the door to the room opening. The wooden slab whined on its hinges, and through the threshold stepped an older man, perhaps in his sixties. Showing wrinkles for it, deep bags under his eyes, prominent laugh lines about his pale cheeks. He had short dark hair with mottled flecks of gray throughout it, and a two-tone black and gray robe clung to his slender frame, baggy with long sleeves.

  The man stopped when he saw Koromi, and for a moment the Samurai and stranger beheld each other in silence. Seconds of that awkwardness passed before the old man’s face broke into a broad smile, his silver eyes lighting up.

  “You’re awake.” He said, as if astounded, and stepped further into the room. He reached into a bag atop the desk at the other end of the room, and Koromi’s hand idly crept toward Hinedo, which was propped up against the bedside. More in reflex than any intent to do harm.

  Rather than drawing a weapon as some paranoid part of Koromi’s mind had worried, the old man instead produced a small bottle of pills, which he carried over to Koromi, and presented to her. Gingerly she accepted them, initially going to reach out with her left arm, but upon remembering that was missing, taking it with the right hand.

  “Painkillers.” The man said, pulling a chair out from the desk and dragging it over to sit down across from Koromi.

  “I am not in pain.” Koromi said, partially truthfully. The phantom pain in her arm lingered in short bursts, but that was a sort of pain she experienced any time one of her cybernetics was absent, and no amount of numbing agent would solve that pain which stemmed from the mind more than the body. The dull ache in her shoulder and side were not so bad that she would risk hampering her mind with the drugs.

  “Good.” The man said, and took the pill bottle back when Koromi held it, absentmindedly setting it aside. “I am Joshi.”

  Koromi waited a few long moments for a personal name to follow the strange family name, but when it did not come, she realized the man was a peasant. A great surprise, given the improper way in which he had been addressing her.

  Yet, not knowing how things worked in Kyoto, Koromi did not want to assume malice on his part. Instead, she bowed her head for a moment properly as she introduced herself, “I am Oda Koromi.” Suddenly admitting to being an Oda felt a bit more painful than it usually did, in light of the previous day’s events.

  “Mmh.” The man nodded, folding his hands in his lap. “Kesa-san told me. It is a pleasure to host you here, Lady Oda. Usually, I see only men bound for Yomi here.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Koromi’s eyes widened a touch. “Kesa is alright?” She asked, suddenly remembering her protector, and the wounds she’d suffered in her defense. “Where is she?”

  “Sleeping now.” Joshi explained, “I’ll go wake her in a moment. She’ll be excited to hear you’re up.”

  Koromi slumped her shoulders, relaxing a bit. It was a relief. “Where is my arm?” She asked then, shifting to more critical matters.

  “Ah.” Joshi gestured vaguely behind him, “It was broken, so I had Nagu take it somewhere for repairs. We are hoping to have it back in a day or two more.”

  A pause, silence between them as Koromi processed the information, drew logical conclusions, then –

  “More?” Her gaze returned to the man, “How long have I slumbered?”

  Joshi inhaled slowly, nostrils flaring when he exhaled again in a deep sigh. “On and off, nearly three days. You ran a fever for a time, but began to show signs of recovery late last night. It’s dark out now. I was only entering to make sure your fever had not returned.”

  Three days.

  Three days?!

  Koromi attempted to stand, and found herself suddenly lightheaded, falling back to the bed. Joshi stood quickly, and Koromi’s right hand grabbed at the man’s arm for support, the robotic digits digging into his flesh harder than either of them would’ve liked as pain rocketed through the Samurai’s shoulder and side.

  “I need to go.” Koromi gasped, “I need to–” Her vision swam as her grip faltered, heart racing.

  Three days of no contact from Mako? Three days of no progress on her quest? Three days? Things must be more dire than she thought, if people were still silent. Did the city know of the Shogun? Did the nation?

  Koromi’s vision narrowed, sweat rapidly formed across her brow and her fingers trembled as her grip loosened enough that Joshi could carefully ease her back onto the bed.

  “You are injured, my Lady.” He said hastily, his face a mix of pain from the grip Koromi had briefly maintained on him and concern for her. Her heart ached, and the panic of her situation lulled her addled mind on the easier path back to unconsciousness. Joshi stood quickly then, and as Koromi’s vision faded to darkness once again, she could hear the man shouting for Kesa.

  –

  “How is it raining?” Koromi asked a few hours later. She awoke staring at the ceiling above the bed, and could distantly hear the sound of rain beating against the building’s rooftop, or perhaps the alley outside it. The dull thrum was a lullaby that beckoned her to rest, but phantom pain in her arm pulled her from the primordial soup.

  Kesa, who sat at her bedside for the entire time since she’d last awoken, blinked in surprise at the Samurai’s sudden consciousness and speech. She was dressed in only light underclothes, her armor no longer donned. Bandages wrapped her upper arm and thigh.

  The Oni slipped from the chair she’d been seated in and fell to her knees, planting her hands on the ground as she prostrated herself before the Samurai. “My Lady–” Kesa began, and Koromi groaned. She wanted to reach out and grab the Ashigaru with her left arm, but when she tried to move the non-existent limb, she felt only more pain. Her heart ached from the attempt.

  “Kesa.” Koromi whispered harshly, and the Oni’s head lifted enough that the two could lock eyes. Koromi gave her a long stare, then smiled gently, “I cannot see you when you are bowing so low.”

  She could – Kesa was massive – but she wanted the Ashigaru to be on equal footing to her. Awkwardly, Kesa rose to sit back down in her chair.

  “The mortician said you awoke briefly. Are you feeling better now?” Kesa asked hurriedly, as if she might pass out again at any moment. Koromi worried over that possibility as well, so she remained mostly still, lying in silence for a full minute or two.

  “I cannot tell.” She said at last. “How is it raining? Is there not a city above us?”

  Kesa blinked in confusion, “There– Y-Yes, there is. It’s runoff. Rain striking the upper city, piped down here from drainage ducts above.”

  Koromi huffed with a slight nod, as much as she could lying down.

  The two sat in silence, aside from the din beyond the room. The rhythmic clatter of water across the undercity.

  “I must reach Edo.” Koromi said softly. Three days behind schedule.

  Kesa’s hands came to rest on her knees as she leaned forward. “The doctor said you must rest for another few days.”

  “Why have they not given me an auto-mend?” Koromi asked with almost a snap to her voice, referring to a Shogunate medical device that came as a single-use injector. A single burst of that medicine could locally close even the deepest wounds, willing the body to stitch itself up in hours as opposed to weeks. It was absurd that she was not already fully healed.

  “They have none.” Kesa explained carefully, “Not in the undercity. Only traditional medicine and basic curatives.”

  Were peasants in Kyoto so truly poor that they did not have such basic medicines? Koromi had thought that all of Hamada had such things, so assumed the devices were ubiquitous. She tried to calm her frustrations. Pained and frustrated as she was, it was not her Ashigaru’s fault.

  “What about my arm?” Koromi asked, her voice nearly a whine as the false pain chose that moment to flare up. “I need it back.”

  Kesa’s eyes were sympathetic, but she bore no hard encouragement. “At least a day. A repairman has it now. It was not functioning when I brought you in, my Lady.”

  Once again Koromi instinctively tried to bring both hands up to rub her eyes, but only one followed the command, and pain echoed in an arm that was not there. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “We are already dreadfully behind schedule… I do not know what the situation in Edo is like. I feel as if I have so many questions, but none can be answered in any reasonable fashion.”

  Kesa gave a slow nod as she listened, then gestured to Koromi’s traveling attire, which sat folded on a table nearby. “While I was laundering your clothing, I attempted to get information on the wider isle. As far as I can see, there is no abnormal news from Edo, aside from new years celebrations.”

  A pause, and Kesa smiled, “Oh! Happy New Year, my Lady Oda. It is 2721 now.”

  Koromi’s heart ached a bit. She’d slept right through the new year… Years of staying up late to bring about a positive start to the year with sake, good food and celebration. One minor highlight of her otherwise dreary existence at the estate, watching fireworks over Hamada castle. Now she was starting the new year wounded, hunted and cowed like a wild beast.

  Kesa’s smile faded as she saw Koromi’s gaze lower to the floor, losing herself to some degree of despair. Hazarding a moment of impropriety, the Oni reached out one huge hand, letting it rest on the Samurai’s injured shoulder, careful not to press or squeeze so as to avoid hurting her. Koromi flinched at the initial contact, relaxing quickly when she looked up and saw Kesa’s face.

  Kesa was so loyal, even though they had only met recently. Koromi’s functioning hand came up to the larger woman’s forearm, artificial digits gently holding the muscled limb. Her fingers were not long enough to even wrap halfway around the bulk of it. “Forgive me for dragging you into this mess, Kesa.” Koromi said in a voice that barely managed to rise above a whisper. She could feel tears pulling at the back of her eyes as the weight of her situation settled onto her. “Were I not so selfish, this could have been avoided.”

  Kesa bowed her head, “Your cause is noble, Lady Oda.” She said, then looked up quickly, not standing overlong on the bow. “And I wish to see it through… This is my first time beyond my home province. It is as much an adventure for you as it is for me.”

  Unable to stop herself from smiling at the unexpected kindred spirit, Koromi let out an amused sigh, exasperated but grateful. It calmed her heart to know the woman bore no ill will. “Then we are of the same mind. This quest has taken a… rather horrible turn, but… I am grateful to have you at my side, Kesa.”

  The two women exchanged a long look of further silence, Koromi’s soft blue eyes peering into Kesa’s orange ones, which seemed to swirl like fire in the wind. The hypnotic gaze pulled down as Kesa bowed her head, “And I am honored to serve, my Lady.”