A/N: *cough* 8284 words... I don't know what's wrong with me. Anyway the first part is rather short, the middle is almost half of the chapter though and I could not cut it so we'll have again three parts this time.
Listened to WithinTemptation and Florence + The Maschine to get someinspiration for this chapter. It worked.
7
Warmth. It was the first thing she noticed while her mind smoothly shifted into consciousness. With a sigh she pulled the blanket closer and was welcomed by an earthy and salty smell spiced with something foreign but soothing which made her feel secure. She wanted nothing more right now than to savor this state between slumber and waking and cuddled closer into the material. The blanket scratched against her skin sensually. For a second she wondered when they had changed the silk of her room's interior with coarse linen but scooted the thought aside to bathe a little bit longer in this comfort.
Savoring the warmth, Mayura held her eyes closed. Her heart beat strong and slow.
A brush of wind tickled her nose and she scrunched it. It was odd to feel the wind inside her room. Slowly her mind tripped over the idea that she wasn't in her room. Had she fallen asleep on the veranda perhaps? With half a mind locked in the savoring state, she focused more on her surroundings.
There was a loud rush in the background, resounding at a rhythmic pace. The ground beneath her felt cool against her skin, hugging her cheek. As her consciousness slowly returned to her she remembered the past events in a rush. Pictures of prisoners in small cells, her necklace with the splinter of the crystal leaving her hand, a wall of water dark and dangerous coming closer and swallowing her. A faceless soldier of Tsuchimikado reaching out a hand for her. Her upper body jerked upwards with a shocked gasp.
Something fell off from her and she looked down blinking in wonder. Her heart was still racing while she tried to contemplate what was going on. A brown coat was draped over her legs like a blanket. With furrowed eyebrows she touched it. Her hand grazed over the rough material as if it would tell her, what had happened. And then she realized that it was his coat. Her fingers buried themselves into the blanket. The rough texture scratched against the numerous wounds. Wounds of the past. Ignoring the pain, she held onto the piece of clothing and looked up. Her eyes were searching for him.
She spotted him, sitting at the fireplace, where embers were glowing among the last bits of wood that hadn't turned into aches and coal, piercing the burning remains with a bright stick.
Gulping, her drowsy mind swirled around one idea: He hadn't killed her. He would have had the chance to do so; but he didn't. Her gaze skipped to the coat again and Mayura bit her lip. Instead he gave her time to rest and had covered her with a makeshift blanket. Perhaps he didn't lie when he said, they needed to work together. Perhaps she should be more open to the idea of working together with him.
Again she looked over to his figure. He had not shown any sign that he'd noticed her waking up yet. Maybe he was giving her space for she did not think he could have missed it. Without his coat, she could see more of his shape and uniform. The sort of jacket he wore broadened his shoulders and made him look impressive. The hair looked unruly and glowed in a deep red, that was odd but interesting. Yesterday she hadn't let herself think about him, after he'd ruined their food. But she remembered her slight surprise when he'd been there at the fireplace with his hair dried and standing up high instead of hugging his head. He was admittedly handsome, yet not in the ideal way. The color of his eyes was too sharp like the sting of ice. The color of his hair too demanding. It was as if he had been painted with extremes, as if the Crystal had drained thousands of people from their color and had given it to him. It had to be the foreigner-thing, Mayura concluded, that was making him attractive. She didn't know, if he was considered handsome in his homeland, too. The aura coming from him was undeniable though.
Like the man wearing it, his uniform was burning with red. The colors of his jacket glared at her and it looked like blood was smeared over it where the colors of fire did not reach. Tsuchimikado – from afar it seemed to be a land of extremes. However, instead of fear the sight of the blazing colors evoked her interest now.
She had been afraid of him. The moment she'd recognized the colors of Tsuchimikado, she had been scared to loose her life. Most of her fear had been swallowed in her aggravation afterwards. He'd insulted her – constantly. One soldier from Tsuchimikado had the nerve to insult her more in the course of one day than she'd ever been insulted during her whole life.
And then for the Crystal's sake he'd ruined the food – how by the Crystal and the world beyond he did not know that you don't throw anything wet into fire was beyond her. Then he had possessed the nerve to ogle her in an impudent manner. She'd cursed him – inwardly. The bitter taste of the burned food had fed her desperation more than her stomach. Especially his shameless staring after this had made her feel uncomfortable, never having experienced something like this before. Anyone who would have dared to look at the princess of Narukami insolently would have risked to loose his head by a swift blow of one of her guard's swords. (1)
But –
But she wasn't the princess right now, not in this place. Even though she would prefer to hate him for his behavior, he couldn't have known she was a princess and that he would have been a dead man at another place in another time for his actions. As much as it frightened her, she had to lay her past self to rest for now. To the soldier from Tsuchimikado she was a lower class Narukami girl and she had to bite into the sour apple and needed to act like one.
Maybe she could trust him. He was from Tsuchimikado, yes. He was a soldier, yes. He was a stranger and she'd learned strangers aren't to be trusted, yes. But hadn't the point of her journey been to end the dispute between both nations? To make them lower their weapons and reconcile? To live in harmony? How could she expect her people to trust the others when she herself couldn't?
As if it was standing beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder, she recalled her idealistic self, the person she had been before she had set off on a journey. Her gaze dropped to the ground. A shadow hugged the uneven ground of sand, stretching towards the sea. She recalled her idealism, her thoughts about unity, equality and things that had a nice rang to the ear. It felt like a distant memory, like the picture of something she could only look at from the outside now. Nostalgia rushed through her. She had been different before her journey. She had been naive, yes. But she had believed in something that wasn't impossible. She had no idea back then that she couldn't achieve anything without a fight. Now she knew.
So wasn't it better to find a part of her own self on this island being trapped with somebody else? Did it matter where they came from? They both bled red, they both felt hunger and thirst and they both needed warmth to live through the night. They were equals here. She was no princess and he was no soldier. She was not from Narukami and he was not from Tsuchimikado, not as long as they were here, trapped on an island.
Rising a fist to her chest, her other hand held on the coat, which he had worn when they first met. Mayura bit her lip and set her eyes onto him again. This time she watched him with different eyes as if she had laid down chunk of glass through which she'd only seen a blurred version of the person in front of her.
And it was in that moment, when she looked past his uniform, past his deadly weapon and past his strange outer looks that she realized that she did not know his name. She had no idea whom she was glancing at.
Releasing a loud sigh, she got his attention. He raised his head and turned it towards her. His expression was the painting of indifference; his mouth rested into a scowl and his eyes bore an undefined look.
Mayura rose to her feet and folded up the coat. She walked towards him with their eyes set on each other. Her heart beat accelerated but she did not stray.
"Ano~," she said, feeling foolish about her behavior on the day before.
His expression did not shift. Focusing on his face she saw the hint of a risen eyebrow but otherwise she could not see any form of his emotion. He was hard to read. His eyes were guarded with their icy blue that made a chill crawl over her skin.
"Thank you for lending me your coat," she stretched out her arms, offering him to take back the piece of clothing.
"No need to thank me," he said and accepted her sign of truce.
"Also I wanted to apologize." Finally his expression was changing. His eyebrows rose and in the depth of his eyes something was born. A sparkle that made her swallow. She averted her eyes and folded her hands before she continued, "My behavior towards you was uncalled for. You were right. We are trapped on this island and if we want to survive, we have to work together. So I am sorry..."
"You can call me Shimon," he helped her out.
"Thank you, Shimon," his named rolled off her tongue easily and she bowed down in respect while she wondered about the tingling taste lingering on her tongue.
"You're welcome, Otomi-san," he replied after he took in an audible breath.
She was taken aback at the name. It took her a moment until she remembered that she'd given him her mother's birth name. She hoped, he did not notice her little slip. Confused she stuttered, "Call me Mayura."
He blinked at her.
"If I ought to call you by your first name, you ought to call me in kind," she said trying to give him a reasonable explanation.
He nodded quickly, "You are welcome, Mayura."
Her name in a slightly different accent rang in her ears, having never heard the vocals sounding so softly.
"Besides I need to offer you some gratitude, too," Shimon added, continuing the conversation for which she was grateful.
"Hm?" Now it was her time to rise her eyebrows.
"For saving me from touching the poisonous bush," he said with the most elusive hint of a smile.
"You're welcome, Shimon," she tried his name again. It was a nice name with a gentle sound and she decided she liked it. Testing their more amicable grounds, she wanted to light their situation with a joke. "It would have been a very unhonorable death."
"That it would," he agreed matter of factly.
An awkward smile formed on her face at his obvious lack of humor. She figured, that talking to him might not become the easiest task on this island but as long as it would keep her alive it was fine.
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(1) Because of some surprised reactions at Mayura's outburst I guessed I need to explore this for a bit. 1. Female honor is a very fragile thing. Shimon already scratched on her honor when he undressed in front of her. 2. Even nowadays staring is considered to be rude in Japanese culture. Staring at a noble woman is offensive. That's why I thought it would fit the medieval like setting to make this a big insult. Also the bigger the obstacles for two people to overcome the deeper the romance.
A/N: Thinking, it will do more things to her than keep her alive... hehe.