The New Winds

When Nesrin goes back to the Inn at the end of the Evening, she'll find a note sticking under the door to her room. If she doesn't recognise the handwriting as Prashant's, the message will clearly give it away - and make her either laugh, or cringe, or both.

Seems like it isn't easy to find a steed larger than a pony here after all... but well, so is life! Meet at the western exit when the sun goes down?

When - and if - she heads there, she'll find her friend waiting for her, holding a lit candle.

Returning from some time spent browsing the market, and a simple dinner, and a bath, Nesrin did spot the note, and chuckles at first till she gets to the timing. When the sun goes down It's been down for hours.

She throws her woolen deel on over the casual yukata that's no kind of clothing for a rainy night, and clatters down the hall and stairs to the street, twisting her hair into a knot as she goes. There's a moment, just outside the inn as she calculates how quickly she can run to the gate vs taking the time to get Tabudai from their stables first. Four legs are faster, and she brushes aside startled stable hands to bring the young stallion out. Mounting without waiting for a saddle, the pair dash through the muddy streets to the gate.

Approaching the gate, she slows to avoid giving the guards a reason to worry, and nods to them, looking for Prashant, although surely he's already left after being kept waiting. She felt weighted down by the rain thinking of what he must think she meant by such absence.

The sight of the small flicker of candlelight caught her heart. It was probably someone else, but she was here and had to look all around and be sure before she rode back. When she could see for sure that it was him, she slid from Tabudai's back so quickly she stumbled and nearly lost a sandal to the slick footing. Geta were simply not made for riding.

"Prashant!" She waved, entirely unnecessarily after looming up on a giant horse in the moonlight and apologies tumbled out. "I'm so sorry, I *just* saw your note. Have you really been waiting since sundown?!"

When Nesrin came closer and the sound of Tabudai's hooves and of the Battle Maiden dismounting became louder than the rain that was still pouring down all around the town, the Shugenja's head starts turning towards the sound, then turned more quickly when he hears Nesrin's voice. It was probably hard to make out his features in detail with little more than candlelight to go by and a wicker hat on his head brushing off a bit of the rain, but the smile that spread over his face as he turns to face her is even harder to miss.

He stands up merrily from a rock he was sitting on, a small portable tent set up just behind him.

"Lāre Nesrin!", he says, beaming with happiness. "I've left the note a while ago! Been out of the town for some things, then took a quick bath, came back and set up here to read a bit, meditate and wait for you", he said, smiling broadly. Then...

"Ñuk..."

He lowers his head for a moment "I... thought you might have been mad at me, and... not be coming", he says, then raises his eyes a bit again, as if assessing her own expression. His eyes seem slightly worried and bashful, but his joy in seeing her shines through nonetheless.

That smile.

Her heart.

Those words.

"Never! I would never. I will always come if you ask! You..." Her heartfelt words become a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "you...absolute...root? burdock...no...the other thing.. turnip!. Why couldn't we have met...at the inn and come out here together, so you didn't have to wait?

Hand over her mouth, rain pouring down her face, she stifles her laughter. "Oh, Lāre. You and your moments, it's like Assur and his puddles*." She steps closer, better to be heard over the rain. "I do remember the sunset that last day at the Naadam, you didn't need to..." she waves vaguely again..."all this, just as a reminder."

Light pours from gold scales
Spreading opalescent inks
Sunset over plains

She offers the poem, crafted back at the event before they headed home once again, as proof of her memory, as well as noting that she remembered at least part of the purpose for this outing.

"Well...if we're riding," she looks around, not seeing a pony, and quickly sorts out what *that* part of the note had meant, and is just a bit glad that one candle in this rain will never pick up her blush, even as she steps closer within its small circle of light. "It's without a saddle since I didn't stop for that when I realized how long it had been since sunset. We're going to be soaked, but I saw a sheltered spot along the mountain when riding the other day, if that's still your plan?" She isn't sure, seeing the tent, if perhaps the rain has shifted plans, as it tends to.

________
*PM incoming

The Iuchi's eyes get more emotional and caring as she speaks - although his eyes still face slightly down. He laughs, still a bit abashed, as she struggles to find the best botanical term to describe his silliness (( )), answering partly in a low voice - "Ah, I'd be out for some time and didn't want to leave you waiting if I took longer than I..."

He still seems a bit abashed, but when she mentions the horse of legends - legendary for its barmy love of water, of course, but still - he can't help laughing.

He then looks up at her eyes as she recites the poem, and while something, for some reason, still makes him a bit shy, his eyes become bright with admiration and brimming with emotion. It was hard to know for sure, but there just might be something else making his cheeks wet than just the unyielding rain.

The shadow over his eyes brightened, he reaches for her hand again. "Of course that's the plan, Lārekke Nesrin!!" He offers her his hat - not that it helps much with the rain - before turning over to disassemble the tent. "Not the first time any of us will ride without a saddle, ma?", he says, turning back to her and smiling as he tries to get the tent and some belongings that were inside arranged back into his travelling pack without ruining them in the rain. "I... just..."

As he finally gets everything settled - managing to keep his Tao more or less dry -, he lowers his head, then extends his hand to her again. "Lārekke... I... I thought you...". "I've spent some time with Bayushi Jiro-san... I thought you might have heard, and hate me for it..." - he says, looking at her eyes, then down again. "I've... been surprised that I've... grown quite fond of him, but... ".

He looks at her, his eyes a bit downcast and worried again, but the same admiration, warmness and clear love as before are clearly there.

"Your smile colours my every thought, Lāre Nes......".

"I hope you..."

He extends his hands again tentatively, and speaks a bit more loudly, rhythmically and slightly songlike.

friends grow close and part;
moonlight over plains and streams -
gleaming smile of dreams!*

OOC
* PM Incoming!

Already soaked, the hat wouldn't do much for her, so Nesrin holds it over things as Prashant packs up, keeping them dry as best she can. Frankly, she's amazed at his skill packing wet and dry up such that the latter are protected. If that's not a kami trick, she needs to ask him for some tips before they pack up to leave...which she doesn't much want to think about.

So when he reaches for her hand, she's more than happy to take his, that silly grin growing again as the other thoughts are chased away. Nobody would paint this scene. They look ridiculous as she tries to hold the entirely inadequate hat over them and Tabudai stomps impatiently in the mud. Her smile is warm and giddy as she listens, fading as...at first she forces herself not to jump in and respond to every small thing...and then as everything numbs with shock. How could I hate you? For talking to someone? I mean, I hear some Scorpion are ok...Yogo-san seemed kind of nice...wait? ...What??

There is no resistance in her own grip as he continues, her hand merely resting there, numb with something other than cold. She tries to understand him between word and expression, tries to reach for something that would provide a way to answer. Bushido demands so much, and it's guided her true thus far. Right now... Honesty is painfully overflowing. Nor did she doubt Prashant's Sincerity...or Courage. How hard was it to tell me this? she thinks with an admiration that sparks new pain. It was, perhaps, incourteous. Their Duties didn't come to bear. So...Compassion? She tries, very hard, to still her churning thoughts and listen with compassion and the knowledge that she has never doubted his honorable intent.

She's been quiet a while, blinking rain away...maybe not just rain. But a samurai does not spend their life dithering. So it's seven breaths, and no more before her grip tightens. Rough and quiet, her voice slips under the rain. "Am I your friend or your moonlight then, Lāre Prash? I don't think I can hate you, either way, but..." she swallows the rush of words that will just clutter everything when she just needs that answer

_______
(meant to ctl+t for a new tab to look at something, hit ctl+r to refresh the page...and lost everything written at that point. *shakes fist*)

Between his words and hers, it feels to him as if time - and his own heart - had stopped.

Her seven breaths felt like seven decades, perhaps more... and none of his own fit into that endless wait, as he kept her hands on his, his hopes on her understanding.

His eyes on hers... and he feels his heart tighten as he sees the rain falling from his Lārekke's eyes - a rain he caused...

As her grip tightens, and she finally speaks, he holds her hands tighter again, his eyes shining with tender, deep affection, and also...

Passion. Compassion was 'feeling together', after all... so, when she tries hard to look at him and 'feel' with him, she must certainly feel it.

Compassion. Shared feeling. Shared passion.

He breathes in again after her words, swallowing some rainwater.

"Lārekke, tuwe...", his voice is cut for a moment as he breathes in again, and his face breaks into a radiant, loving smile. "You'll always be my moonlight, Lāre Nes", he says, now in a clear, steady, kindly voice.

He then starts to speak rhythmically once more, her hands still held on his, that loving look still on his eyes.

"vast night, hazy moon -
all asleep beneath her gaze
but your name - you blaze" *

_______
OOC
((Oooooof it's always awful when that happens : ( ))
((*This is a tentative adaptation of a "modern haiku" by a Brazilian poet, trying to make it fit the traditional format and adding in a season word : ) Hopefully I haven't butchered it too badly ))

Nesrin nods, retrieving her hand to uselessly swipe water from her eyes. She lowers the hat, returning it to him. She can't doubt this, or him, and the pure, clear affection he radiates. "Ok then. That's..it's a solid place to stand, Prash. Lāre. I'm still confused," her voice retains a hint of wariness.

"But I trust this, and you and your huge heart, and there's time to talk." She shakes her head with a soft huff of laughter. "That's what this was all for, right? And poems." With an easy motion, even burdened with half again her own weight in waterlogged clothing, she hoists herself onto Tabudai, then grimaces and shakes the geta off into the mud.

"I'll find them later, or I won't," she says as she extends a hand to hoist Prash up behind her, answering his poem with her own, spoken quietly into the shared feeling surrounding them both, trying to express with words, voice, and eyes the enormity of both the love and the fear shaking her heart in their teeth.

Moon, sun, stars alike
blazing still behind bruised clouds
Name held in my throat

Assuming he lets her pull him up, she freezes for just a moment as they both settle. The Unicorn are more physical with one another than most of the clans, and she's ridden double countless times over the years. She had no idea this was going to be any different, but every nerve is raw, and she's taken aback by the ferocity of her desire to hold tight, to cling. Instead, she wraps her fingers in Tabudai's wet mane. Taking a long breath, she at least tries to pretend everything is perfectly normal, as they set off with little care for the rain.

_______
(It's a neat adaptation. The rhyme is shocking in the form.)

Prash takes back the hat and, feeling it definitely won't help much, tries to find a way to keep it attached to his obi instead of keeping it on his head to inevitably fly off at some point.

His face relaxes and his smile warms at her words and laughter. It's that sunny laughter and upbeat attitude that first made him cherish her company, and he couldn't help smiling whenever he saw her like this. But he could feel the wariness behind it.

He knew it was his fault. He felt his own confusion muddled and pained her... and causing her pain was something he'd never want to do.

As the thoughts rushed through his head, his eyes reveal some of that worry... but as Nesrin extends her hand to him, that easy, warm smile spreads across his face again, and he instinctively knows where to go, what to do.

Settled besides her on Tabudai's back, he slowly, carefully starts to extend his hands forward to hold himself along with Nesrin, on Nesrin - then he held still for a moment. Riding like this was something all Unicorn were used to since their earliest childhood, of course. And touching another while doing it was nothing short of necessary.

But this time was different - in more ways than one.

He felt her tensing up. He could almost sense the swirling emotions pent up in her. He lowered his head, a saddened streak crossing his eyes for a moment, thankfully unseen. He tried to think for a moment, felt he understood her fear.

But... there was no sense in thinking.

With Jiro... it was new, and surprising. He still had to better understand it, in some ways.

But he knew what he felt for her. It changed nothing. If anything, her trust, her openness - her love - even when he told her something like this... it made it even clearer.

He loved her deeply. As deeply as anything he had ever felt, in fact. She made him happy just by being there.

He knew what he had to do, without thinking.

As Tabudai starts moving, he extends his hands slowly again, touching her. Holding her.

As they darted on under the rain, he let his head slowly lower, until his face leans on her back lightly. Leaning so, he starts reciting to her again, in a sing-song, but low voice that she can only hear over the rain because of how close he is.

"voice fails, hearts prevail -
storms acquiesce to caring calm
our pathbound souls a balm"

As he finishes the first few verses, his head still leaning on her back, he holds her slightly tighter, his voice now steady and a bit stronger.

"may moon, stars and sun
criss-cross high over our horns
our hooves' path as one"

________
((Shocking? How so? Hopefully not 'omg that's horrible' shocking? XD
Also -
1) Apologies for the LONG wait for this post -_-
2) it's not perfectly 575 575 (although there's precedence for that so I'll assume I'm safe), and it's not perfect in the alliterations either, but I've tried to join Haiku and Travel Poetry styles here, much as Wyn did for Batbayar. Now to see if Nesrin notices the attempt ))

As he holds her, Prashant can feel Nesrin release a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. There’s a shiver that has nothing to do with the rain before her fingers release Tabudai’s mane and come to rest atop Prashant’s. She isn’t sure how one can feel so at peace and aflame at the same moment.

Every time it has mattered, he’s been there. He quite literally has her back. So the weight and warmth of him resting there now feels right; this truth given physical form.

Once back to the road, she signals Tabudai to pick up the pace, passing through a few moments’ trot into a rocking canter. Those hoofbeats, the proper cadence for travel poetry, accompany Prashant’s recitation as she tips her face up to the rain, the back of her head resting atop his as she listens. She knows she can’t remain in this moment, and it’s the more precious for it. Her hands rest gently on his as she leans into him.

Proper travel poetry has a lesson at its heart. His are haiku, of course, but with the rhythm and gloss of travel poems. She feels there’s more a message than a lesson. One path. Our path she thinks as they slow to leave the road and pick their way to the spot along the mountain that she’d seen.

Unknown paths, precipices
Storms. Seeking through trust, a way

The two line answer to a three line poem feels right. It’s a response, not something that need stand on its own.

It’s hardly conscious, the signal to Tabudai to stop, just as she finishes. She remembers that tall cat-shaped stone, and the aged cherry tree behind it, branches spreading wide. She leans back a bit to swing a leg over Tabudai’s neck then drops to the ground as carefully as she can, barefoot in the dark. The stone bruises will heal soon enough.

Once down, she holds her hand out again, not that Prashant needs any aid to get off a horse obviously. “Just past the tree, and up a bit, there’s a wide overhang. It should slope out, hopefully, or it’ll just be a nice overhang shielding a small pond.” Her smile is hopeful rather than exuberant. “Otherwise, a decent place to talk, if damp and a bit chill.”

The rain on their heads, the smell of the earth and the grass, the feeling of the wind as they rode through... the warmth - the fire - of her touch...

As many of the most important times in life, that was but fleeting moment. A fleeting, perfect moment. One he knew, there and then, he would carry in his memory and his heart until his time to ride the wheel again came.

One could only invite suffering by clinging - to things, to moments, to anything. He knew this full well from his studies. Still, at times like this, it took some effort to avoid that temptation.

Focused on enjoying the moment just as it was, he lets his mind clear, centering on each of his senses again. Cold rain. Earthy smell. Cool breeze. Warm touch, fiery heart. The rhythm of Tabudai's hooves...

... her sweet, sweet voice answering his poem.

Unknown paths
Precipices
Storms

He pressed his head to her back harder as he heard that. He had cleft that precipice, he felt...
but then,

Trust
Seeking a way

His heart warmed as he heard that, his head pressing closer to her back, his hands gripping hers more tightly. Their path. Their way.

It didn't matter what came their way, what stood on their way. They would ride together, trust each other, and find a way through.

As they stop and he sees her hopping to the ground barefoot, he can't help laughing a bit - that was so her.

She knew he didn't need the help, of course... but he takes her hand nonetheless, after he's already halfway through to the ground. And... keeps his hands in hers, if she will let him.

"That sounds great, Nes!" He looks at her, smiling hopefully as well "Lārekke..."

He then looks at the way she's shown, pulling her hand slightly. "Shall we then? We can either sit and talk... or, worst case, just get our feet even wetter and enjoy this time", he says laughing.

Echoing his laughter, she nods, "such a lovely night for wading. Maybe catch some frogs." Hand fast in his, she leads, picking her way over mud and stones with a soft whistle for Tabudai, who follows.

There's next to no light with the rain covering the moon, but pale stone stands out to dark-adapted eyes. It's not large. They could lay two bedrolls side by side with a bit of room to spare if they were traveling, and need to stoop to come under. With some encouragement, Tabudai settles at one edge, basically able to keep the rain out of his eyes while it continues to pelt his back. There'll be a long grooming session when they return to get him dry and free of mud, but this is hardly the worst or longest either of them have been out in the rain.

It also isn't a pond--decently dry so long as the wind doesn't start driving the rain sideways.

Ducking into the not-quite cave, Nesrin sits, as comfortably as stone and wet clothing allow. When he joins her, she reaches out, laughing again, to lift a lock of his hair, plastered down by the rain. "I think this is the tidiest I've seen this tsakātstse pyāpyo* yet, Lārekke." The teasing is obvious since it may not be sticking up all over, but it's definitely not tidy.

Her expression sobers though as she lets his hair slip from her fingers. She's not one to avoid coming to a necessary point, after all. There's warmth and caution to the set of her lips, the tightening about her eyes. "Prashant. Lāre, I don't know my future, but I know my path should be with you. I know my heart already is. And I don't doubt you feel the same." These were the things that were clear and solid. She takes his hand and a deep breath to approach the rougher terrain.

"What is it then, with you and Bayushi-san?" Her fingers tighten, even trusting what he's told her. "I mean...there was nothing certain between us until days ago." Just letters with lessons and news across the seasons, brief days at the Naadam; daydreams and hopes quietly layered between the words. "I'd understand other...developments. I mean, I had a letter exploring betrothal from Otomo Nobuko-sama. It wasn't really something I took too serious, since it was obvious washamo Ichiro and she were attached...Moto-sama, that is. But it.." she trails off, biting her lip to still it, because apparently she can come to the point and then ramble on to avoid an answer.

_____________
(*thistle flower/thorny flower)

He laughs with her, heartily and warmly, enjoying the moment as she touches his hair and teases him, taking his hands to his head as well, trying to remove some of the water and get things at least somewhat more tidy. After the effort, he ends up shaking the water off his head, not unlike Tabudai not long ago, and with similar results. He lifts one hand to her hair to rearrange a stray lock out of her braid, his eyes caring... and then somewhat guilty as he sees her expression changing.

He knew this moment would come from the time he mentioned something had happened. He knew he had - they had - to speak about it. That still didn't make it much easier. But as he looked into her eyes, their warmth, the caring sound of her voice, even now...

That made it easier.

He was still somewhat confused about some things, of course, and that would surely come through when he answered. But he wouldn't flinch or falter. He'd be as open to her as he was to himself.

More than his nodding as she words the first, clearer part, the loving expression on his eyes, and his hand caressing her affectionately make it certain that they stand together, on solid ground. Pākri, Lārekke, his eyes seemed to say. My path is right beside you, wherever that may be. Those things were clear, even without words.

But there was more that needed to be said, talked about.

Before he answered, he used his free hand to take from his satchel a partly burnt sandalwood bracelet, gathering some twigs and branches, then place his hand above the bracelet and close his eyes for a moment. After some moments, the wood starts crackling, and a small fire starts besides them. It's not much, but it is a start to help them get warmer and a bit less soaked.

"Lārekke...", he then starts, taking her hands carefully, softly in his after he felt her fingers tighten. "You... I..." He stopped for a moment, pressed her hand. "Thank you, Lārekke", he says. "I expect you received, and shall yet receive, many more distinguished proposals than one from a Iuchi with a foreign family", he says, half jestingly, although the jest is a bit lost in the seriousness of the moment. He continues more seriously.

"I ... I hadn't even known, or thought about what it was like... to feel those things, you know. Before. Before last year, I mean. Before I found myself smiling for no reason when I thought about..."

His smile gets warmer and tender again as he speaks, but he suddenly stops. She knows that, he thinks. This isn't what she's asking me about.

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes still on hers. Without even noticing, he switches back to his native language.

"I had never thought about it, and I had never really felt anything like that. So... it was a big surprise to feel... something when I exchanged letters with Bayushi-san. We arranged to meet here when we could, play a rematch after the Go games in Hirosaka. So we did, some days ago. There's a budding friendship there, and I'm happy for it. But... I didn't expect that I would actually feel... fond. Ah...attracted even, I guess. I... had found him handsome, before. But I didn't expect that, really... I mean, for a man..."

He stops for a moment, draws a deep breath.

"But Lāre, whenever I felt that, I..."

He blinks, some rainwater - or was it - drops down his cheek. Another breath.

"He... mentioned he was looking for Benten's blessings. I wasn't sure I understood it then. We exchanged some poems as we played. And... I told him - I have a blossom falling close to home."

His eyes once more tender, his hands hold hers tight again.

"Still... I keep hoping to keep his... friendship. Company. Something."

A deep breath again. Back to Rokugani and a calm, steady voice.

"We went for a walk outdoors yesterday. Talked about Koan, the Tao. He showed me a beautiful landscape of Tsuma, gave me a painting of it. I... enjoy his company, really. But..."

Another breath. Tegensai again.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Lārekke. Whenever I feel I may hurt you by feeling something for him, my heart bleeds. And I am more and more certain that my path has me right here, with you by my side by the fire..."

His eyes are set directly on hers as he says that, his hands cupping hers. His heart reaching out. Without noticing, he leans slightly towards her, almost as if starting an embrace. The warmth of the small bonfire besides them not enough to keep his face dry.

"I... know that all must sound awful, Lārekke. I am still so confused by this... with him. Even while I'm so certain about tuwe... about was*."

He breathes again, and now, after all this time, his eyes break contact with hers, his gaze falling to the ground. He says the last words in Rokugani again - slowly, hopefully, reaching out to her.

"I... can only hope that you can understand these confusing feelings a bit, Lārekke... that you can trust me, despite my failings. And... trust that my heart is with you. Despite all this confusion..."

________
*was = 'us'
Btw loved the "thorny flower'

She listens, trying to apply her meditative practices, letting the words fall into stillness to be examined. Letting the feelings do the same. It was a lot harder to do with *these* feelings, but she tried, holding to the physical connection to ground her.

They are so close, as he winds down, that she can touch her forehead to his, almost without moving, reaching up to brush the damp from his cheek. “Hard not to trust your honesty, after all that, Lārekke.” There’s warmth to her tone, and a tentative gentleness to the touch as she begins in his language, a thing she’s come to share.

For a long moment there’s just the dripping of the rain and crackle of the small fire, as she hunts for words to wrap around everything going through her head. “These feelings, they…” Realizing she doesn’t have the words in the borrowed tongue, she switches back. “They’re…feelings, Pra-kun. They can’t really hurt me, neh? It isn’t the feelings you think will hurt me...” she swallows, surprised at how hard it is to say this, “it’s what you might do about them.” Why does that set a tremor in her voice?

“Hearing about them…is…confusing? A lot of feelings. Should I be angry that you’re feeling things? Or ashamed? Or betrayed? Afraid?” That stops her, with a sharp breath drawing her back a bit. “Oh. That one, I guess.”

It’s almost a relief to name it, releasing a tension she hadn’t been aware of holding, and she curls into him, her head on his shoulder, arm across him to rest at his waist. “I trust you, Prashant, but…was? That’s so new, I don’t trust it yet. Like leaves shivering on the edge of the trees in autumn, but inside my heart. I fear the leaves falling as if the tree won’t ever green again.” She shakes her head, stops hiding behind veiled language. “I fear losing us when we’ve just…”

“I mean, he *is* handsome. Bayushi’s children tend to be.” Her voice takes on a tone of caution. “Are you sure…” She trails off, not certain which worry she’s trying to voice first. sure he’s not manipulating you? Sure he means well? Sure he isn’t placed well enough to just take what he wants? “sure everything is as it seems?”

He keeps close all the time while she speaks, and like her, he keeps quiet and heightens his awareness, letting his senses try to sooth him and guide him through that difficult, but important moment. Rain, crackling, her voice. The fire, their breathing. Sounds, warmth, smells, touch.

The wild stream of thoughts and the confusion seemed to soothe down somewhat. He followed her words attentively and... almost calmly. His hands tightened a bit on hers when her voice trembled, and he gently, carefully extends his hand to her back, touching her braid slightly, then timidly venturing to caress her head as she places her head on his shoulder.

A long silence follows her words, the crackling and pattering filling into the gap of their voices, one of his hands holding hers, another on her hair.

"I... we", he finally starts, but it's his time to feel he cannot express himself properly and switch back to the language of his home.

"Was... That is new, Nes. But... your smile has populated my dreams and daydreams for almost a full turn of the seasons, now", he says, and his face actually reddens a bit again as he smiles, his eyes onto hers. "Śimpriye* may come, but..."

Smiling warmly, head still close to her, he recites the next few words softly.

"Cold chrysanthemum
blooms - steamy sweet sake brews
beyond the window"**

He looks at her sweetly. Runs a finger through part of her hair again, carefully.

"The feeling of cold
steadily driven away -
scent of plum blossoms"***

"Was... we'll be as the pine tree, Lārekke. We'll watch the plums blossom together, and share the fruit when they ripen".

Still smiling at her, he closes his eyes and falls silent for some time, the crackling of the fire filling the not-quite-cave again. He lowers his head for a moment, but when he speaks again, his eyes are on hers once more.

"I... feel I could speak, share thoughts, ideas, views, with Bayushi Jiro-san when we met. The person. Not the Bayushi kuge. But... can I be sure? Bayushi-san... he said something. One needs honesty and sincerity to call another a friend. I know I will be true. Honest and sincere - also to myself. And... to what I feel for tuwe, Lārekke. I... want to believe he can be true as well."

He closes his eyes takes another long breath.

"If... I sense it isn't what it seems.... if I feel these southern winds threaten to tear off our leaves, or uproot our pine..."

His eyes open again, his smile warm, trusting and tender as he holds her hands tighter.

"Then I will keep our windows closed. So we may enjoy our amazake by the fire in peace. And harvest the first plums that ripen every year."

______

* Śimpriye = Winter

**
寒菊や/ 醴造る/ 窓の先
kangiku ya / amazake tsukuru / mado no saki

***
梅が香に/ 追い戻さ縷縷/ 寒さ哉
ume ga ka ni / oi modosa ruru / samusa kana

His hand at her back, stroking along her braid is a comfort. A sense memory of her mother doing the same is settled into her bones. It’s familiar. Familial. The touch, his words, each reinforce the way in which Prashant has become Family. For nomads, home is where your family is, even if that’s a different bit of the plain every season. No wonder she fears that loss.

He speaks to that fear, with the openness she has come to trust, to love. His gentleness becomes suddenly recognizable as the peaceful way one approaches a spooked horse—visions of sheltering by the smoky fire of their own warm yurt his metaphorical bit of sweet apple.

She smiles at the image, both amused and content as fear recedes. Shifting so she can look into his eyes, head still on his shoulder, both her humor and relief find voice in a haiku answer to his.

Beneath the pine boughs
Spring plums washed in the river
So sweet and so cold

Sitting back up, she takes his hands as he speaks of Jiro. She doesn’t know the Bayushi, but she can listen and hear Prashant’s truth of what they are to one another, and finds that she actually aches a bit to watch him consider her warning.

“I hope we might leave the windows open, to enjoy the breeze.” Again she abandons metaphor for clarity. “Lārekke, I wouldn’t see you lose a friend to worrying about what might be. It's...more than enough that you've given consideration to it.”

Rummaging in the detritus drifted into their little haven, she adds the slender bits of branches to the fire, thankful that the kami have been willing to keep going on such sparse fare.

How invisibly
The flower of human hearts
Changes its color*

She says with quiet happiness. The sentiment could be a sorrowful one on the impermanence of human feeling, but right now it seems to her startling that they should look no different than they did one hour ago despite the shifts in emotion and understanding that had happened since.

__________
*Heavily adapted from Ono no Komachi