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Hey guys, welcome back to another WIP post~! I have officially returned from my hiatus in March, and had intended to write in April but sadly life got in the way of creativity :( So with that being said, letâs get started~.
For those who may not know already, part five of Submerged Devotion has been posted, so if you are into LADS with a reverse isekai concept mixed into it, this is a fic for you~.
Fans of The Shinobiâs Apothecary, I am working on the next chapter. I actually sat at my desk today and typed up 2,022 words but I can you right now that this is not even close to being finished. If Iâm following the story beats of my current outline, then Iâm looking at maybe another 2-3k to be added to this chapter and thatâs not including the research Iâve scribbled down on sticky notes~.
I do have a potential LADS project for Mermay, outline included with MC x Non-MC!Reader being the main pairing. If you would like to read this concept, comment on here with a đ§ââď¸~.
Thatâs all I have for now, time to dig into some homemade curry and rest before writing again~! :3 See you on the next post~! đ
𫢠Today marks a whole year since I started this blog. To celebrate, I decided to post the next chapter of Submerged Devotion and even considered getting myself a pastry at the coffee shop near my office before I clocked into work. Now? I logged off and then back on to make sure that what Iâm seeing now, this milestone, wasnât a glitch that appeared in my notifications. 10k likes? On the anniversary of this blogâs creation? What?
Iâm utterly speechless. I never expected this blog to grow so much in such a short period of time. Thank you to everyone who got me to 10,000 likes, and for continuing to support my works~.
I hope that with these likes, reblogs will follow suit, because without them? I honestly wouldnât know if my stories were loved or hated by others.
Reblogs matter more than likes, and it takes 0.1 seconds to do it.
Thank you again for your support, my dear readers, and I will see you all next time~.
cw: major spoilers for Submerged Eclipse myth, character death, fem!reader, reverse isekai situation, non-mc!reader, minors dni, references to The Shape of Water.
Synopsis: Your first day in the research facility doesn't end the way that you hoped would happen.
author notes: hello~! I have finally returned from my hiatus with another chapter, and just in time to celebrate the first anniversary of this blog~! Special thanks to @mia-menaceinaction and @jinwoosbabyboo for helping me polish the earlier drafts~! @dissociativewriter and I hope you will continue to support this collaboration with likes, reblogs, and comments~! Credit goes to the rightful owner of the artwork above that I found on Pinterest.
divider by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
After changing into the designated uniform for the research facility - a pair of khakis, an indigo polo shirt with the aquarium logo threaded on the left side in white string, and non-skid sneakers that have been your faithful companions for six months - you went right to work. You checked the temperature of the tank, balanced the chemical levels until they were optimal, and helped create a menu for Rafayelâs dietary needs with the veterinarian. Based on his lore from the game, his preference for food was deeply connected to the sea, so he would often choose seafood platters. Because he had been living on dry land as a disguised human, it would make sense for a Lemurian to include vegetables that had high levels of hydration, packed with vitamins and electrolytes, like lettuce and cucumbers.Â
There wouldnât be any issues with purchasing most of the stuff with the monthly food budget, except for the spicy shrimp. Sorry Rafayel, Iâm afraid you canât eat your comfort food until the vetâs given you the clear. You thought as you walked out of the office and towards the break room to grab your lunch. It might complicate things if everyone here finds out that you can eat human food with little to no issues, and God help us if someone gets the great idea of feeding you something thatâs actually poisonous to a Lemurian.
This was your job. To look after Rafayel, observe his behavior and make sure the wound on his tail was healing properly. The downside to this job, at the moment, is that he is choosing to ignore you in favor of swimming around in his tank. At first, you had thought he was being stubborn because he hadnât eaten since last night. But when you spoke to the veterinarian, the only other person with high enough clearance to get close to the Lemurian, he had confirmed that the asset had eaten based on the menu you had created earlier: kale and salmon, weighted in equal portions to ensure proper nutrition and avoid unnecessary weight gain.Â
Asset. The word referring to Rafayel by Keyes and the other employees left an unpleasant taste in your mouth when it rolled off your tongue. He wasnât an asset. He was a sentient creature who could call upon the ocean and flood a human civilization as retribution for being in a tank.Â
But you were getting off track again. Where were you? Oh, right. Rafayel was in his element as a drama queen; by that, you mean of course that he was being incredibly stubborn and acting petty, even with a full stomach. Getting his attention was a lot harder than it looked, but following him around and around the tank was also counterproductive. How were you suppose to communicate with him effectively? When you brought up the idea of putting on a wetsuit, Keyes immediately shot it down with a frown. He would not allow you to get in the water with Rafayel until he and the staff have done more tests to prove that he wonât be aggressive and attack other aquatic techs. Plan B consisted of you just sitting cross-legged near the edge of the catwalk, calling out to him in a soft voice with loosened shoulders and a smile. Body language was just as important as using words when handling animals and humans.Â
Plan B failed spectacularly as Plan A had done. Or gone up in flames, got dosed with water, whichever analogy made sense.Â
By the time the clock struck seven, there were only three individuals left: Keyes, Rafayel, and you. You werenât ready to leave yet, not until you could establish some form of communication with him. The downside to it was that Keyes had to see the phenomenon for himself and document it. For example, if he saw you using sign language or say a word to Rafayel and the Lemurian could mimic it, then that was proof of the latterâs intelligence. That is the keyword; he would see it, not hear it. That was your job, and why you had a digital voice recorder shuffling around inside your pants pocket. You werenât too keen on finding out the influence a Lemurianâs voice had on a humanâs mind when in close proximity, though it was better for Keyes to believe your theory that Rafayel was a siren than discovering he was a character from a dating game.Â
You looked up at the catwalk, took a deep breath, and climbed up the steel stairs. The fluorescent lights bounced off the water, though right now it looked more like a mirror that had been severed from the morning sky and liquified in Rafayelâs tank. Fitting for a sea god who has literally swum into your life.Â
You sat down, placed the recorder by your side, and pressed âplayâ. âRafayel?â You said. âRafayel, are you there?â A beat of silence passed. âI know you can hear me, and I know you are ignoring me. I want to know more about you, to understand you, but I canât do that if you keep this up. Can you give me a sign? Maybe splash your tail once for yes, twice for no? Like this.â You slammed your hand against the steel catwalk. Once, then twice. âCan you do that?â You asked. Nothing happened.Â
You sighed, bringing the recorder up to your mouth. âFirst evening of observation. The newcomer, whom I will refer to as Rafayel in these logs, has shown no visible interest in communicating yet. He might still be adjusting to his new environment, away from the ocean where rescuers found him. The cause of his injury appears to be from a boat propeller - â You yelped, pulling the recorder away from your ear as it suddenly released a piercing screech, getting louder and louder until it lapsed into a hiss of static.Â
You blinked. âThe hell?â You turned it off, then back on and pressed âplayâ. Gone. Nothing remained of your recording except for gibberish in the background of static. âOh man, you have got to be kidding me.â You turned back towards the tank, frowning as you held up the recorder in the air. âDid you do this?â You asked. âHow did you do it? Can you tell me at least that?âÂ
You knew from the game that Rafayel could be petty, but you didnât think he would take it to another level when he was a Sea God and outside of it. Or his coding, for all you knew. Thatâs how he was before, right? Strings of data and code before he manifested here, in your world, as a growing pain in the ass. When you did not see the water ripple, any sign that he even acknowledged what you had just said, you knew this was at least a sign to quit for the night and try again tomorrow.Â
You shoved the recorder into your pocket and descended down the catwalk, the thumpthumpthump of your shoes pressing against the steel quieting to squeaking of the tile floor as you crossed the room towards the exit. Keyes must have seen it all, and realized it that there wasnât much else for either of you to do at this point. You reached for the double doors, more than ready to change out of your uniform and head back home when a loud âbangâ reached your ears.Â
Blinking, you looked your shoulder and froze. There was Rafayel, floating in the water with one palm pressed against the tankâs glass and the other curled into a fist as it rose again, then slammed it again, making another loud âbangâ. If you werenât tired, hungry, and utterly ready for this day to be over, you could definitely appreciated how his flowing hair created a halo of purple around him, the shimmering of his light-blue tail emphaziing his ethreal beauty. Not to mention there was his pretty face, his pecs, his abs, annd you were stopping right there before your brain went into dangerous R-rated territory.Â
Rafayel pointed up, towards the waterâs surface, and then back at you. Wait, he wanted you to go back up the catwalk? Why? Was he finally going to talk to you, or did this mischievous little fish have something else in mind? Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Shaking your head with an exasperated smile, you began your ascent back up to the catwalk. When you reached the top, Rafayel was there, waiting for you, his entire body submerged in the water except for the top half of his head. His webbed ears flickered back and forth, eyes never leaving yours even as you settled down on the catwalk, shoulders back and chest clear. You tucked your legs into a casual cross, resting your hands lightly on top of your kneecaps.Â
Even if he couldnât understand your words, you hoped your body language conveyed to the Lemurian that you were not going anywhere until everything had been said.Â
âIâm here.â You said carefully.Â
Rafayel blinked rapidly, then raised his head from the water, right to the edge of his chin. âMy beloved bride.â He whispered slowly, with the reverence of an oracle whose prayers the gods had finally answered. âI have found you, at last.âÂ
âYou know who I am.â
âAs you know me, my bride, from the moment our eyes met on that fateful day.â His gaze drifted down from your face towards your chest, and then suddenly his expression darkened. âWhat is that?â He hissed, jabbing a webbed finger in your direction. âHow dare you?!â
You blinked. âWhat are you -â
âWhy did you let the humans cover up our bond mark? Are you ashamed of us, of what we have?â The waters churned, twisting and colliding against the tank. âDo you want them to tear us apart again?âÂ
"Iâm not sure how you could figure that out when itâs covered by my shirt and bandages, but there is a good reason.â You said, surprising yourself at how calm you sounded even you were panicking on the inside. When you saw him about to open his mouth to argue, you raised your hand in the air. âYouâre upset. I get it. Just hear me out before we say something to each other that we will both regret, okay?â
Rafayel stared at you long and hard before the tiny whirlpools disappeared. âSpeak.â He said finally.
âHumans are fragile as they are strong. If I had left alone, not covered it up or even put medicine on it so the skin can heal, it could have progressed into a serious infection. As for why the humans touched it, they were curious. Wanted to make sure that I have isnât contagious. Which is why they took a small piece of it, bond mark included, to ensure that itâs safe for me to work and not spend a night in an intensive treatment unit. I follow the directions, keep it covered until the next appointment, and my skin should heal. I donât believe a scalpel can sever this bond mark if itâs truly that important. Am I right?âÂ
âFragile,â Rafayel repeated, just barely nodding. Thatâs rightâyou were fragile. So easy to hurt. You had already died in his arms once; he could never let that happen again. âIâll allow it this time,â he grumbled. âI still donât like it, though.âÂ
âYou donât have to like it.â You replied. âThereâs a lot to learn about this world, about humans, just as I have a lot to learn about you, but only if youâre willing to let me in. Canât have our first day together ending with a misunderstanding that can be resolved with communication. Iâve seen way too many dramas with that troupe and it is not appealing in real life.âÂ
Hello my friend~! :) Ask you and you shall receive~!
10) Tell us your favorite thing to snack on when you write. Since I started working at nights, I've found that writing first thing in the morning before my shift is actually more productive than after I get home. If I get up early enough, I'll make a cup of coffee and an egg wrap, grab my laptop and do a 40 minute writing sprint.
28) Which fic is closest to your heart? The Shinobi's Apothecary! Itâs still a brand new one on here with only four chapters, but honestly? Outlining this crazy concept, doing the research, seeing it become a story between two unlikely people (or as the readers on here call it a black cat x black cat romance) who finding love in an arranged marriage? No other fic has brought me so much happiness, joy, and frustration all at the same time.
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Hello~! I'm sorry I took a while to respond, I finally have a day off from my full-time job to go through my ask box and answer questions~! :3
34) What title do you want to use, but can't figure out a story to fit? Titles for the stories can either be a hit or miss for me, so I usually wait until I have an outline all finished to figure one out. But if there is one that's been bugging me for a minute, then it would have to be The General's Lady. I had originally wanted this to be the title for an upcoming LADS x non-mc!reader fic, but could never figure out what kind of story it could be~.
21) What do you when you get writer's block? I tend to step away from this platform for a while, read some books and just chill until I get a spark of inspiration, like if there's a difficult scene I'm writing and I need to type it in my notes immediately so I won't forget, or motivation to try again. Writing is not easy, and it takes commitment to stick to one story and finish it. I wish I could be more consistent with writing every single day, but there are times when I just can't because I am a working adult~.
warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, minors dni, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, murder, gore, mention of pregnancy/childbirth, maomao!reader.
* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period. TayĹŤ was the word to refer to Yoshiwaraâs highest paying courtesans before it was changed to oiran by the mid 18th century.
Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest. Special thanks to @pa1nrema1ns for being a beta-reader and making sure this chapter was ready to be shared with the world~.
Series Masterlist
The tea blend for Murasaki House was not finished yet, so you journeyed to Kaguya House and made your last delivery on the major boulevard. Contrary to the belief of the madams and owners, you didnât limit your services to the established houses in Yoshiwara. The yĹŤjo courtesans may not be revered as the tayĹŤ, their services in The Koi Pond and The White Tiger were more readily available to customers looking for a night of bliss.
It was strange how these houses on the lower side of Yoshiwara reminded you more of the prized flowers that once flourished in the Veredigris House. Perhaps it was because the courtesans were more open in their affection towards you whenever you visited them, like what they were doing now.
â[First Name], it is so lovely to see you~!â Setsuna cried out, her willowy frame gliding across the reception hall towards you. The sweet scent of her jasmine perfume tickled your nose as she embraced you. Her dark-green tresses fell over her shoulder, a striking contrast to the kimono she knew would draw a gentlemanâs attention from a rival house and into her chambers. She prided herself on wearing the classic white polka-dotted pattern with elegance, how the teal obi coiled around her curves just right, and her expressive, dark brown eyes were the main selling point.
Setsuna was full of herself, and she had a right to be. If there werenât clusters of men waiting to spend an evening with her, she wouldnât have lasted as long as she has working in the brothel. Courtesans who are arrogant or too violent would be kicked out the moment a customer complains about her attitude and doesnât put in the effort to improve on it.
âWeâve hardly seen you since you got married! Has that big, mean husband of yours been keeping you away from us?â She rested her chin on top of your head. âHow dare he do such a thing!â She pouted. âWeâve had you first long before he dared to ask for your hand, and we are your precious patients, so our health comes before anything else! Isnât that right, my darling kitten?â She purred in your ear.
If you werenât already used to Setsunaâs clingy yet endearing personality, you would have thought that she was trying to flirt her way out of entertaining someone who wasnât to her particular taste.
âMy husband is busy with his work as a traveling merchant, and he comes from a good family. It was fortuitous that my father approved of the match at all.â You replied, the half-lie, half-truth rolling off your tongue. You had practiced what you would say to any of the courtesans if they got curious about your home life. A carefully crafted piece of fiction to let their minds wander with silly fantasies and not question any variables, but then again no one really cared. It was just small talk, for that purpose, to talk and be distracted before work.
You tilted your head back slightly so you could properly look at Setsuna and smiled. âThere is no need to worry for my well-being; I can take care of myself.â It was true. You had survived this long without getting kidnapped by flesh peddlers or swindled by shady merchants who claimed to have rare ingredients from across the oceans, and so on. Really, getting married to Gabimaru wasnât the most terrible thing to have happened to you - in this life, or the previous one.
Setsunaâs pout deepened. âI still donât like it.â She declared. âAnd I never will. But if you are happy, then I suppose that has to mean something, doesnât it?â
âThat is all we could ever hope for our dear little apothecary.â A low, velvety voice crooned. You swiveled your head to the right, seeing another familiar and popular courtesan of this house making her appearance even though she should be resting.
But then again, you have never seen Momiji not working. If she were not entertaining guests in her room, she would be in the office, helping organize the books and making sure business ran smoothly if the madamâs back was preventing her from doing so. There were rumors she would take over The White Tiger once Lady Izumi retired, though thatâs all it was. Mere speculation. Her long brown hair was halfway pulled back, and a lacquered hairpin held it together; its grass-green beads enhanced her natural beauty and highlighted the color of her eyes. A bright yellow kimono with pink and red plum blossoms adorned her voluptuous body, held together by her favorite purple obi but loose enough to expose her shoulders to enticed clients who would want to see more of her milky skin.
Momiji smiled at you. âI pray the gods bless your marriage with fortune and fertility. I assume youâve come here to deliver our monthly remedies?â
âOf course.â You said.
Momiji nodded. âPlease wait here, then. I shall return in half a moment. Setsuna, donât even think about taking her to your room.â She eyed her fellow courtesan with a raised brow, who shrugged innocently and had yet to release you from her clutches.
âI have no idea what you are talking about,â Setsuna replied. âIâm just having a nice little chat with our kitten, now shoo.â She waved her hand as if she were trying to brush off dirt from her sleeves. âYouâll have your turn with [First Name] after me.â
Momiji rolled her eyes in exasperation and left. She returned shortly as she had promised, and the two of you made an exchange that came as naturally as breathing. Coin for medicine, inquiries on health, and additional orders to be made within a week's time. She gave you a brief pat on the head, and left, dragging Setsuna by the wrist, who whined and tried to wiggle away as they went up the stairs to the second floor, and then disappeared from your line of sight.
The work was finished. It was time to return home. Tomorrow you will return to Yoshiwara and collect information for the chief. Or, you glanced to the right. Perhaps it wouldnât hurt to stop by the marketplace for a bit. It had been a while since you had gone anywhere in Edo besides Yoshiwara. Maybe you could find a bargain on some ingredients for dinner tonight, stock up on a few things. So that was what you were headed, weaving through the congested streets, bartering with vendors, and filling up your basket once the purchases were made: fresh fish wrapped in bamboo, tofu, noodles, vegetables, and sardine oil to light the paper laterns in the house, should you need to do some light reading at night.
By the time you had finished with the shopping, it was already mid-afternoon. You needed to start heading towards the path leading to the mountains or else you wouldnât reach the village until nightfall with the amount of items you were now carrying and on foot. As you hurried down the street, your ears caught worried whispers being murmured amongst the crowded area.
âDid you hear? A shinzĹ from Yoshiwara has gone missing!â
âSurely you jest! Yoshiwara residents treasure them as much as their tayĹŤ!â
âIndeed they are! Which begs the question: who in the right mind would dare -â
âHush, donât you dare finish that sentence! Let the police find the shinzĹ, and pray that she is safe instead of what you were just implying! Do you wish to bring misfortune upon the house she represents?â
âI was just thinking out loud!â
âYou donât think before you speak, you silly fool!â
Your brow furrowed. A shinzĹ had gone missing? If this were true, then it was indeed terrible news for the houses in Yoshiwara. Although the tayĹŤ are revered in the Nightless City, their beauty is fleeting. Should a tayĹŤ be forced to retire, her apprentice would step in and take her place, allowing the cycle of fortune, fame, and house rivalry to continue without ever stopping. That was what a shinzĹwas, as opposed to a kamuro, an attendant who supported the tayĹŤ in every way possible, from doing chores to running errands in the city, supporting her public appearances as part of the entourage, and occasionally secretarial work.
But this was not the rear palace, and you had no authority to be investigating an ongoing case. You were an apothecary in this life, with no connections to royalty and no reason to get involved. Donât draw attention to yourself, [First Name]. Do not make the same mistakes as before. Focus on what needs to be done and nothing else.
That was what you kept telling yourself as you scurried out of Edo, though perhaps that wasnât the best word to describe your sluggish pace on account of all the items in your basket. You were not physically strong as Gabimaru, but you could compartmentalize your own suffering if it meant to treat others who needed someone with your skills, someone whose survival - and worth - was tied to her usefulness.
The old fox summoned Yui back to the main house. His excuse was that she had been away long enough to help you get settled into your new home, and no, it could not wait until after lunch. That was all the masked shinobi would tell you. Yui, gentle Yui, promised to come back and visit you soon as they led her away, suddenly making the food you had brought back seem like a waste. Perhaps you could rub some salt onto the fish so it wouldnât spoil? Surely there was some stored away in the kitchen.
You blinked. Salt, rice, and daikon. If you had everything, then you could make yourself some rice porridge. The meal would tide you over for the rest of the afternoon, allowing you to focus on the housework and preparing the next batch of medicine to make. Dinner was another matter to worry about later, if you would even be hungry by then.
âIâm home.â
You froze. The knife in your hand stilled, angled against the wooden cutting board and barely grazing the daikon you were about to slice up into tiny pieces while the rice was being boiled over the firepit. You looked over your shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of Gabimaru stepping over the tatami mats with his mud-caked sandals on. You inhaled through your nose and exhaled through the mouth before you placed the knife down and turned around, hands folded neatly in your lap.
âWelcome back, husband.â You smiled, hoping that your expression was convincing enough that you were happy to see him and not lamenting just how much time it would take to get the dirt out of the mats, or worse, if he had tracked it to other rooms besides the kitchen. The old man raised your husband to be less than human and more like a weapon to be used at his beck and call, you silly girl. A voice chided in the back of your mind. Itâs all right to be annoyed, but thereâs no reason to be angry with him.
As much as you wished to deny the existence of a consciousness without physical evidence to prove this theory, deep down you knew it was true.
Perhaps instead of going on a walk with him in the morning or cooking a meal together as Yui had suggested that the two of you do when he returned from his mission, you could teach him other things. Like how to remember to leave outside shoes by the door, and to show gratitude for every meal. Things that a normal couple would do. Or would Yui say the opposite and scold you for thinking like that at all? You inwardly groaned. You had no idea what you were doing.
But for the sake of this arranged marriage, to have an amiable relationship with your husband, even if it never goes beyond physical intimacy, you will try.
You were grimacing. When a wife grimaces like what you are doing now, then he, the husband, must have done something wrong. At least that was what the other shinobi muttered to each other when they talked about their wives and thought he wouldnât pay any attention to what they said. But Gabimaru the Hollow sees and hears everything because that is part of his job. Listen, observe, and report. Kill if necessary.
But he was not on a mission - he had finally come to his wife and you were not happy with him. Why though? He looked around. Nothing seemed out of place in this new house. In fact, everything seemed cozy. Was that even the right word? Or was it comfortable? The house was clean too, except there was a trail of mud behind him -
Oh. Oh. That was why you were grimacing.
Gabimaru felt his ears burn. âIâm sorry.â He stuttered, leaning forward and quickly unlaced the strings of his sandals. âI didnât mean to make the floors dirty. I wasnât trying to make you angry. I justâŚwanted to hurry back to your side.â He looked at you sheepishly. âCan we still have lunch together?â
Hey everyone, I just wanted to you know that I will be taking some time off from here starting tomorrow, and come back in the beginning of April. The next chapter for The Shinobiâs Apothecary is scheduled to be released next weekend at the usual time, and Submerged Devotion is still an active work in progress with my collaborator @dissociativewriter.
I still want to write stories, but right now? I need a break to refill my creative well, and take care of myself.
okay iâm gonna say it: fandoms are kinda dying on tumblr, and theyâre starving because nobody reblogs anymore.
like⌠i donât wanna be that person but be for real?? likes are cute and all but they do nothing for creators. ZERO. NADA. a reblog is literally the oxygen mask keeping this blue hellsite alive. you say you âloveâ a fic, an edit, a gifset? then BABES⌠reblog it. boost it. let it breathe.
half the time creators are out here pouring their entire soul, spine, AND three vertebrae into something just for it to get 200 likes and 3 reblogs, two of which are their own. thatâs why people stop posting. thatâs why fandoms feel empty. content doesnât magically fall from the sky â it comes from people who feel seen.
and i promise you: reblogging is free. it costs you like 0.2 seconds and suddenly youâre personally responsible for keeping a whole fandom alive. congrats!! so yeah. if you like something? reblog it. scream in the tags. yell. keyboard smash. put sparkles. do whatever. just donât let creators feel like theyâre shouting into a void.
reblogs feed creators. reblogs keep fandoms thriving. reblogs literally save lives (okay maybe not literally but u get it).
support the creators you love !!!!!! or else weâre all gonna be sitting in empty tags like clowns.
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After a long week of studying for exams and many more to follow to potentially advance in my career, this was a much needed treat I didnât even know I needed~.
warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, minors dni, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, murder, gore, mention of pregnancy/childbirth, maomao!reader.
* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period. TayĹŤ was the word to refer to Yoshiwaraâs highest paying courtesans before it was changed to oiran by the mid 18th century.
author notes: hello everyone, and happy valentine's day weekend~! :3 I know the posting for this chapter is a little late, work has been keeping me from writing on regular basis, but better to be late than not at all~! I hope you will continue to support the series with likes, reblogs and comments~! I seriously wouldnât have made it this far without all of you, my dear readers, and Iâm excited to write the next chapter once I have more free time to do so~! :3 If you would like to be tagged for future chapters, comment with a đż~!
Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.
Series Masterlist
âWhat exactly does an apothecary do?â Gabimaruâs monotone voice pierced through the tranquil silence of the early morning, the sun just rising over the horizon. You blinked in surprise, glancing away from the illustrated scroll in your hands and at your husband. You do not know why, but he has been coming to your work shed as soon as you returned from the fields, lounging on the veranda like a cat while you organized the herbs you collected or self-studied until it was time for you to leave the village for the day.
You had tried to shut the door on him, assuming he was just looking for a place to take a nap without being bothered by everyone else, and he did not like that at all. He has visited here without fail for two weeks; yesterday he asked about how people can mistake parsley for water hemlock and the most effective method to remove poison from a snake bite if there was no antidote available.
âI compound medicines, offer medical advice to patients, and study poisons.â You answered airily. âBut you already know that.â
âYeah, I do. Still doesnât explain why the midwife asks for your help with delivering babies.â He tilted his head. âDoesnât she have an apprentice?â
âRangiku helps keep the mother calm during labor, and she does an excellent job of it.â You said. âSpiritual support, singing, encouraging the mother to synchronize their breathing when the contractions begin, she can do it all. Lady Aoi believes she will be ready to move forward in her training within the next year, though Rangiku is still a young and unwedded woman.â You turned back to the scroll. âItâs possible that she might be let go as an apprentice for the sake of giving birth to a child herself.â
âSo you help with the birthing process?â
âYes.â Your fingers traced over a picture of a tree where a cluster of mushrooms grew. âIt becomes a completely different story if there is a child in the breech position, however.â
âThe breech position?â Gabimaru parroted. âIs that bad?â
You looked back at him. âIt is.â You turned around, maneuvering your body towards the veranda with the scroll resting loosely in your hands. âThe babyâs head positioned towards the birth canal guarantees a safe delivery with minimal complications. But if I were to touch the motherâs stomach, and I feel the babyâs head instead of the buttocks or feet, then they are in the breech position. That complicates the delivery, endangering both the mother and the unborn child for many reasons.â You listened them with your fingers. âThe babyâs head could be trapped inside the motherâs pelvis, the umbilical cord comes out first before the baby, which could cut off their oxygen supply, or even trauma to the head due to hemorrhaging.â You shrugged. âThere isnât enough evidence to prove that theory is true as of right now.â
âAnd you can tell if it will be a breech delivery just by touching the motherâs stomach?â Gabimaru said, his eyes widening slightly.
âThe uterus is where the child develops from a fetus, but close enough.â You replied. âIf I suspected that to be the case, Lady Aoi and I would try to guide the babyâs body gently into the correct position for delivery. If that failed, however, I would have to bring a surgeon from the city to cut open the motherâs stomach and extract the child from there. But even to do that, I would need the chiefâs permission. You know how he feels about outsiders visiting Iwagakure beyond requesting a job for the shinobi or simply passing through to reach Edo.â
Gabimaru stared at you for a moment before nodding. âMakes sense.â Thatâs all he said before he leaned back, stretching his lithe body across the veranda. âBeing an apothecary sounds hard.â He said, his gaze still trained on you. âJust donât push yourself to where you might do more harm than good, or the chief will get mad.â
You raised an eyebrow. âI know. Thereâs no need to worry, husband, I know my place. I would do nothing to embarrass you.â You swung your body around, away from the open door and towards the organized shelves, the scent of mugwort and Kuro-moji tickling your nose. You had gathered some yesterday, tied them together and suspended from the rafters so that they could dry out before using them. They made excellent leaves for brewing tea, among other things.
After this conversation, the work-shed fell into silence again. You had expected Gabimaru to leave you alone, head to the shinobi training grounds and prepare himself for the next big job. Instead, when it was time for you to depart for Edo, he had remained in the same spot on the veranda, watching you pack up your wares inside your basket and close up the shed. His gaze never left yours, and then he raised his hand up. As if he were saying good-bye and to be safe on your trip.
Had he consumed a poison that made him act out of character or docile? If so, how had you missed the symptoms? That was the first thought that crossed your mind, because the idea of Gabimaru willingly spending time with you was nigh impossible.
But when you changed the bandages on your arms in front of him, he seemed utterly fascinated with the self-inflicted imperfections. He knew which was a snake bite or a chemical burn just from a glance.
Since you had no access to willing human test subjects or animals, you used your body for these experiments as you had done before in your previous life. The difference this time was that you developed a lotion that helped speed up the healing process. As long as you remembered to apply it every day without fail, they wouldnât look as scary as they did to Lord Jinishi when he first saw them. Perhaps that was why Gabimaru was at ease when he asked you about them, what you discovered from your experiments, etc.
The following morning you found rolls of bandages sitting on the veranda, neatly arranged. A thoughtful gesture from your husband, to which you repaid in kind by leaving corked glass vials of various medicines outside his room; you werenât sure if he would use any of them, though it was better to be prepared for any jobs that come through Iwagakure. The glass vials had been a gift from one madam after treating her staff for a bout of stomach flu, proclaiming that they had come from an exotic land. As much as it pained you to part with something so rare and practical for your work, Gabimaruâs health came first. You could find another way to get access to these little trinkets, somehow, someday.
A week later you found two baskets stuffed with herbs - all neatly organized by type and carefully arranged - and clay bottles filled with venom. You immediately asked Gabimaru what type of venom and how he did acquired it when he graced you with his presence on the veranda, but he evaded your questions with his questions. How would you tell the difference between spider and snake venom? Could you create an antidote once you knew the symptoms, or would it require further study since humans have different reactions, like allergies?
You were torn between tackling him in a hug from the immense joy that was bubbling through your body at such gifts or spiking his tea with a laxative for his vague answers. You chose the former, since that little prank might earn a scolding from Yui.
In the weeks that followed, you felt something change between you and your husband. Something that wasnât the same. You couldnât quite understand what it was, only that he had spent more time lingering on the veranda of the shed whenever you were around, occasionally helping you with sorting out the herbs you brought back from the fields. He even reminded you to come back inside the estate to eat or wash up instead of Yui. She might have put him up to it under the pretense of being a good husband, but there was no evidence to support this theory.
You hoped things would continue for as long as possible.
Five months passed. When the chief had sent Gabimaru and three shinobi to handle a sensitive job for a wealthy client, the house had finished construction. Building one this far out in the mountains was difficult, with the lack of young men who werenât shinobi and supplies to the materials needed to lay the foundation. If anything, you had expected to remain under the chiefâs roof until the winter, when the first snow fell.
According to the wretched old man, everyone in the village had volunteered to help with the building of the house. Gratitude towards their apothecary, and how they wish to make it a fine one for your and Gabimaruâs children to grow strong.
Was it terrible then, to feel happiness and sadness in tandem? You were leaving your old home behind to start a new life, but Yui would remain in the main house as the last, unwedded daughter. Your heart twisted at the thought. You wanted Yui to marry well, to have a husband who would treat her well. That she could still smile and be so joyful showed just how strong she was in a society where a womanâs face reflected her value as a wife.
But if you ever had a say in this arranged marriage, before the village chief had given you to Gabimaru as a prize for obedience and loyalty to the village, you would have insisted that Yui was a more suitable wife for the Hollow than you ever could be. She was loyal, kind, and could communicate what was on her mind more effectively than you ever could. It would have put your mind at ease knowing she would be in good hands, protected by the strongest shinobi who never stayed at home for long, granting her the slice of freedom she had always wished for, what the chief had denied her when he burned the left side of her face.
Women are never to leave Iwagakure. That was his warning, both to her and to you. He wasnât above hurting Yui again to prove his point, and to put in your place should you ever step out of your role as a wife. So you held her tongue, and wished you could give her more than the opportunity to create umbrellas to sell in the village in her room at the estate.
Perhaps that gave you the idea to allow her to stay in the new house with you until Gabimaru returned from his mission. To ensure that there are no evil spirits lurking in the rafters and everything was smoothly. By doing so, surely a brood of children with your husbandâs hair and your eyes will be born by next spring or sooner. As soon as those words left your lips, the chief immediately gave out orders to the servants and household shinobi. Anything to bring more powerful offspring into the world, more shinobi under his command.
Everyone benefited from the situation, yourself included.
The chief assigned two shinobi to carry all the tools and equipment from the work shed to a corner in your new home. Exposure to moisture or sunlight would cause irreversible damage to your inventory, sealed jars of dried herbs and the snake venom included. The larger pieces, such as the herb grinder and the cabinet where you stored ready-to-use herbs in case of emergencies, would have to be brought to the house another day, or at least until you can figure out where you could put everything without overcrowding the living space.
Yui helped wipe down everything, giving the mats and floors a thorough scrubbing before she moved on to air out the futons. There was already a fire pit in place, though the condition of the sand, the wood, and the teakettle had seen better days. A housewarming gift, perhaps?
âAll you need is a good shine.â You murmured as you held it in your hands, then glanced at the pit. âDefinitely will need to find sand and wood that arenât waterlogged.â Naturally, you gave these tasks to the shinobi who stood outside the house doing nothing except grumbling under their breaths. Surely with their keen eye and agility, replacing these things wonât be such an arduous task for them to complete.
They complied, albeit reluctantly, because they knew what could happen if they disobeyed the chief. After they finished, you assigned them additional tasks: organizing dried foodstuffs such as rice and pickled vegetables, filling a wooden barrel with water for drinking, cooking, or diluting medicine, and helping Yui hang the linens. The shinobi grumbled the entire time, and immediately departed as soon as they were no more tasks to be finished, Yui cheerily waving at them just as the sun set. Once they were out of sight, they were out of mind as soon as she closed the door with a ssh-k.
She somehow had the energy to prepare fish miso soup for dinner and usher the two of you for a long soak at the public bathhouse. Although you could still use the bathhouse at the estate, you preferred not to. You didnât argue with Yui when she insisted on going to bed early, not when your body was sore from the work done today. There would be more to do tomorrow, but tomorrow was not today. Not yet, anyway.
Morning came in several hours, and you were back in the fields collecting herbs. Once you had returned from your outing, Yui welcomed you back with a warm smile and breakfast already made. You thanked her for the meal with a small smile of your own before digging in.
The rest of the afternoon involved sorting and arranging the rooms, including a surprise visit from a merchant in Edo. He delivered a goemon-bucho, claiming the madam from the Murasaki House had bought it to âcongratulate her apothecary on her marriage, and consider it a down payment for future medications since the girls need to earn their keepâ.
Despite all her talk of generosity, Madam Misao was always about business and a penchant for keeping track of debts, individual and within the house. A hawk-eyed old hag with a love for money. Greed produced a successful brothel, which trained many famous tayĹŤ over the years, even when most of the licensed houses in Yoshiwara were owned by men with more power than she had.
She tolerated you because you kept her girls healthy, and you tolerated her snide remarks on how you were wasting away your prime on medicine when you could make money in your sleep. Perhaps she could keep those comments to herself now that you were a married woman. Or she might not and still try to coerce you into working for her by falsifying a debt that couldnât be paid off any other way unless it was as a yĹŤjo, a woman of pleasure.
Girls being legally sold off for a lump sum by the prominent male or head of the family to pay off debt or to have one less mouth to feed had been a common practice in Li, but kidnapping and selling them against their will was against the law. In this world, anything goes so long as it meant there would be no shortage of women to please clients with higher social status and a fat purse.
Perhaps you should prepare a delicate blend of herbal tea for Madam Misao as thanks for her gift. If not to express your gratitude for her generous gift, but to remind her that without you, her girls would not make money. You shared this idea with Yui, and her entire face beamed with delight as she sprung suggestions on what teas would go with different snacks, and if a tiny sprinkle of something extra special would be too cruel or ruin your business relationship with Madam Misao for saying such ânice thingsâ about her dear sister.
Tempting, but ultimately counterproductive in the grand scheme of things. Most of the intel you collected for the chief came from Murasaki House, so you needed to keep things professional, or else the chief might actually sell you off to a brothel once your usefulness expired.
The merchant and his apprentices installed the goemon-bucho in the back of the house before leaving, wanting to get back to Edo before nightfall.
When the moon rose over the clouds, you and Yui spent the evening in quiet productivity; she painted umbrellas that would be ready to sell at the market tomorrow morning, and you were preparing medicines to deliver in Yoshiwara and the Hanamachi district. If Yoshiwara becomes lively at night, then the Hanamachi district focuses on training the girls who arrive there because of poverty or debt. Once they had proven their worth, they would be sold to any of the established brothels, becoming either a kamuro - a servant girl to the tayĹŤ - or a shinzĹ, the tayĹŤâs personal attendant, a companion who might have the potential to become a tayĹŤ like her master.
If a wealthy client purchased them in Yoshiwara, the Hanamachi district would receive a percentage of the commission fee from the brothel, using the money to buy more girls, and the cycle would continue.
Thatâs why it was imperative to ensure that your patient - a young girl named Sera who had developed a fever and was isolated from the others to prevent it from spreading - receives this last batch of medicine. If the owners had followed your prior instructions, then all she needed to do was keep resting and staying hydrated with tea that must be taken with the medicine you had given to her seniors a week ago. Frequent urination will flush out the ailment and allow her body to recover to its previous vitality.
You just hoped that they wouldnât get too impatient and force your patient to start the lessons again when she was in no physical or mental condition to do so. If they did, then she would take longer to recover, or worse, die and the disease would spread to the other girls. A scenario you want to avoid as much as possible.
The next morning, your routine as an apothecary began again. You woke up, dressed quickly and quietly without so you would not wake up Yui, and just barely hopped onto the back of a cart filled with hay that was on its way out of the village. You got off the cart halfway through the trail and walked to the city on foot, the wicker basket on your back jostling with each step you took, the sound of clay jars and dried herbs making a disjointed cacophony of clankkgshhhkclankkgshhhkclankclankclank.
An hour later, just as the sun rose over the mountains, the familiar archway welcoming visitors to Yoshiwara was within your line of sight. Finally, you thought. Why did it feel like the trip here took longer than normal? You shook your head. You must be imagining things. Nor was it to time to ponder such a trivial matter when there was work to be done.
Your first stop was the Hanamichi district. To your delight, Seraâs health had progressed in the direction it should with the medicine you had prescribed. You informed the owners, a couple, of the good news as you gave them the last dose. Just one more day of rest, and Sera shall be more than ready to resume her lessons. Naturally they werenât too happy that their investment was being put on hold again, but did not put up a fight and thanked you for your due diligence as they walked out of their establishment.
You passed through the district; the chatter from the busy main street transitioned to something softer, calmer even, as you made your way towards the brothels. The latticed wooden windows of each establishment, where the less expensive courtesans displayed themselves to catch the customerâs wandering eyes, were empty. The teahouses were open, as were the kabuki theaters. It all seemed like a normal day in Yoshiwara, but you could feel a heavy gaze on your back as you passed by, which was an odd thing in itself because you were unremarkable and non-threatening. No one cared what an apothecary did here so long as it did not interfere with their personal agenda.
So what was this tension in the air? Had anything happened since your last visit? These questions bubbled in the back of your mind as you greeted a male attendant of Okamoto House, who lead to the back of the first floor where the offices were; one for the owner, the other for the madam. Lady Omitsu had requested to have a batch of laxatives prepared for her tayĹŤ Yakumo. The patient had been suffering a serious bout of indigestion as result from eating rich foods provided by her client. Lady Omitsu needed Yakumo to be ready to serve him again tonight, to dazzle the spectators who would watch her walk through the Nightless City with her retinue, led by the patron who had purchased her company for the evening. There were many men who would compete for the attention of a tayĹŤ, even if the price to share a delightful dream with an educated beauty was astronomical.
âThere you are!â Lady Omitsu stood up from her low desk, her oval face creased with impatience as she sashyed towards you, the cyan sleeves of her kimono billowing behind her plump frame, earthy brown hair elegantly pulled back in the maru-mage style, a rounded chignon pinned on top of her head. This symbolized her married status to the community. If she were unwedded, her hair would have been styled differently. Her small, almond eyes narrowed.
âYou took longer than you promised, apothecary.â She snapped. You opened your mouth to apologize for your tardiness - to which you had no recollection of promising to arrive here first thing in the morning- but clamped it shut when her gaze sharpened. âI am not interested in hearing your excuses.â She pointed a finger over your shoulder, and your basket. âGive me the medicine, tell me how it must be administered, and leave. Time is money, and I am not losing Yakumoâs client to Orihime of all people.â She hissed. âThat wretch of Agatsuma House will not win this time. Everyone knows my tayĹŤ is more cultured and well-developed than that child she bought.â
You bowed your head. âAs you wish.â Competition between houses was as fierce as ever, even when you did not grow up in this pleasure district.
You followed her into the kitchen. You instructed the madam to continue giving Yakumo light meals and tea. If she were to take the laxative with heavier or rich foods, her symptoms would worsen and recovery would take longer than just a few days of rest and hydration. You showed her how to administer the medicine and took your leave, the purse of coins tucked into the sleeves of your kimono.
As you bowed your head towards the irate Lady Omitsu and her attendant, your ears picked up the sound of wailing. Not the kind caused by an ailment from indigestion, but by grief.
An apothecary does not speculate what went on behind the closed doors of these gilded gardens unless there is tangible evidence that proves otherwise. You spared a single glance at the banister leading up to the second floor, where Yakumo and the courtesans would entertain their guests, then left Okamoto House, shutting the door behind you.
Hello everyone and welcome back to another WIP Wednesday post, the first one for the month of February~!
To start things off, the line edits for The Shinobi's Apothecary chapter three are finished! I had planned on posting it this coming weekend but due to putting in overtime this week, it has been pushed back to Valentine's Day weekend so that I can go re-read everything one more time and make sure it has been polished to the best of my ability~.
With that being said, I am working on chapter four. The word count for this segment will be much, much shorter, probably around 500-1k. I wish I could make it just as long as the others, but I am at the end of my outline/notes that were written hastily in November when I wrote the rough draft for this fic đ I need to revise some of the world-building elements and make sure there arenât any plot holes. I really want this story to shine without placing any further strain on my health~.
On the plus side for my Submerged Devotion readers, the outline for part five is just about finished. I hope to start working on the rough draft within the next week, but it will depend on my work schedule since I am putting in a lot of overtime at the office from now until March.
I want to thank everyone because oh my goodness me I almost fell out of my chair when I saw the followers count for this blog today! Almost 800 followers?! I had to log off and log back in to make sure it wasnât a glitch lol.
Taking a page of out of my friend @dissociativewriterâs book, whom by the way is an amazing LADS writer and just celebrated a milestone of their own, I will write a long LADS x non-mc!reader fic, which will be decided through a poll that will go live once we reach 1k subscribers :3
Thatâs all I have for now, have a great week and Iâll see you all on the next WIP post~! đ
warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, minors dni, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, mention of childbirth, murder, gore, maomao!reader.
* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period, references include historical articles and a fascinating post about the different types of arranged marriages in Japan posted by @kazenofuji. I will leave the article to that link here if anyone is interested in reading it.
Shout-out to @jinwoosbabyboo for taking the time out of her busy schedule with proofreading this chapter~.
Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.
Series Masterlist
His name is Gabimaru the Hollow. He wasnât sure if that was even the name that his parents had given him at birth. The village chief killed them when he was a baby, so perhaps in the end it doesnât matter. Becoming stronger and doing jobs for the clients were the only objectives a shinobi should concern himself with.
Being a shinobi is a way of life, ideally better than being a merchant or a farmer. Very few survive the rigorous training; in exchange, the shinobi would possess strength, speed, and agility beyond an ordinary person, which allowed him and his fellow peers to carry out their tasks perfectly, with no regard for life whatsoever.
Eventually he proved his worth by challenging the previous shinobi who held the title of Hollow, and the chief rewarded him by marrying off to one of his daughters. A sign of utmost respect, they all said, villagers and shinobi alike. Hope for the village, because if Gabimaru the Hollow is strong, he will most definitely breed stronger warriors for us, for the chief.
But he had already been an honored guest of the chiefâs estate and received more than enough coin for the completion of his tasks to put food in his stomach or a roof over his head should he choose to live on his own. He needed nothing else, yet not even he would dare to decline a gift from the man who had raised him to be a perfect killer.
Bearing children is the sole purpose of the women in the village, so it wouldnât have surprised Gabimaru if the daughter chosen to be his wife would be much older than him; after all, the chief has had sired many children over the years, including those who had entered his house as a concubine. Not that he has seen them, nor cared enough to seek them out. The person introduced to him as his bride was average; enormous eyes, a small nose. and a face that showed she ate well, yet not enough to saw she overindulged in her appetite. Hair washed and combed, a large white uchitake with cranes robe draped over her shoulders, yet underneath the extravagant cloth was a weathered light green kimono with a burgundy obi tied around the waist in a traditional Nagoya knot. She also wore sandals, which were worn out and covered in an inch of mud and specks of grass. That was the first thing Gabimaru learned about his new bride: she spend a lot of time outside, which would also explain why she had freckles.
She seemed ordinary, but he knew she hadnât been sheltered nor naive as per his initial impression before the wedding ceremony. If she were a clueless child who believed everyone is inherently good, then the chief wouldnât have trusted her to leave the village and work in the city as an apothecary. What work would he make his daughter do, and why would entrust her into the care of the Hollow as a bride? Gabimaru could only speculate. Perhaps the chief wanted to make sure that his daughter didnât run away or spill secrets to their enemies. That would make sense, considering how often she visited the pleasure district, whether it was to deliver medicine or treat patients who wished to be discreet.
The brothels were respectable businesses on the surface, offering relaxation for their clients if they could afford it. A place where men - single or married - could indulge in their vices. Men could freely discuss state matters and secrets, seeing the women they paid to entertain them were too stupid to understand what they were saying or simply didnât care enough to listen. But the walls listen; they hear everything. Information that spilled from loose lips that were tipsy from sake and pleasure can be bought or spread as gossip, depending on the brothel. It was a simple but effective information network.
And the only one who was privy to it was his new wife, the apothecary. The chief wanted to keep it that way, if only to have some kind of leverage over Iwagakureâs enemies, rivaling shinobi villages included. The shogunate wasnât bothered by it so long as Iwagakure didnât meddle too much in his affairs. Without the shogunate, then Iwagakure wouldnât have as many jobs available to Gabimaru or the other shinobi to put food in their stomachs.
That was just the way of things in Iwagakure.
After he realized this â that his marriage is really nothing more than a surveillance mission â Gabimaru thought it would be prudent to understand his targetâs day-to-day schedule and report anything out of the ordinary to his new father-in-law.
The job began as soon as dawn broke on the morning after the wedding ceremony. Although he was a married man now, tradition dictated that his wife must sleep in a separate room from her husband so long as they are living under the roof of her father. They could not share a room unless it was for procreation or they had their own home, which was currently being built at an undisclosed location.
When he saw the last shoji door on the right - connected to Yuiâs room, who is the second youngest child of the chiefâs daughter and apparently his wifeâs favorite sister â Gabimaru immediately noticed that it wasnât closed. Had someone sneaked inside the estate without the Hollow noticing?
His rough hands flexed, ready to deliver a killing blow to whomever might be on the other side of the door. Three, two one.
He pushed it open, a kunai in his other palm, and then blinked. There was no intruder, and neither was his wife. Aside from a writing desk and a changing screen, there sat a neatly folded futon in the middle of the sparse room.
You must have closed it enough to appear you were in the room without alerting the servants or waking up your sister. If that is the case, then you must already be on foot.
Gabimaru left the estate as soon as his sandals were tied around his ankles, wordlessly hopping through the trees. He found his wife quickly; she was dressed in the same green kimono, a wicker basket strapped to her back with a stoic expression on her face. She paused, her sandals kicking up dirt as she looked up in the trees, making his breath hitch as her eyes almost made contact with his.
Gabimaru froze, his body completely still. He didnât move, nor did he breathe until his wife resumed walking, her attention averted back to the path in front of her. It led to a vast field of herbs, where no one but the midwife and his wife, the apothecary, could enter and use them as they saw fit. Anyone else who went there without the chiefâs explicit permission would be executed.
He watched her kneel on the wet earth, smiling softly as she carefully examined the foliage of each herb with utmost care, running her thumb across some of the large leaves before she looked at others. She placed them all in her basket with utmost care, even when she was pulling them up by the roots. An hour and half later, she left with her wares and returned to the estate to place them in her work shed. Then she was off again, catching an ox cart that would take through the mountain pass and into the city. She spent hours there, moving from one pleasure house to another, delivering medicines or treating ailments. That concluded Gabimaruâs first day of observation.
The days that followed shared a similar pattern, except for disappearing into a back room in each of the pleasure houses with a male servant guarding the door. Gabimaru concluded this was how she received information to deliver to the chief and vouched that she had not gone to anyone else that evening. The chief was pleased and dismissed him. The midwife came to the estate one early afternoon. She needed his wifeâs help with delivering a set of twins to a couple, and was gone until nightfall. The birth was a success, though it seemed to have exhausted his wife immensely as she staggered back to the estate, her kimono covered in splattered blood. Despite that, she still rose at dawn and headed to the fields to collect more herbs, and started her day again as if nothing had ever happened. She wore a burgundy kimono with white peonies and a black obi. The servants took the green one to be laundered, or she gave it to them.
Either way, it would take a while for the blood to be washed out.
Gabimaru felt something settle inside his rib cage - it was unpleasant, an itch, an urge to grab his wife and drag her back to the estate, to her bedroom, so she could rest. He would have done so, probably, if the chief hadnât sent him out to do a big job with two other shinobi. When he came back, he was the tired one and in need of some pain relievers, and he knew you had to have some in your shed.
But instead of screaming in terror at seeing her husband in ragged clothes or covered in drying blood, his wife pulled him inside her shed and treated his wounds with the same hands that handled herbs with utmost care.
How was it possible that someone like her was the chiefâs daughter?
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cw: major spoilers for Submerged Eclipse myth, character death, fem!reader, reverse isekai situation, non-mc!reader, minors dni, references to The Shape of Water.
Synopsis: You wake up in the hospital to find something that should definitely not be on your collarbone, let alone cause rapid heart palpitations every time you think about a certain Lemurian.
author notes: hello~! I hope everyone is doing well as we almost wrap up the first month of 2026~! Thank you for being patient with me and @dissociativewriter on the development of this chapter. Between the holidays and our respective schedules getting busier, we will continue to update a monthly basis. We hope that you will continue to support this collaboration with likes, reblogs, and comments~! Credit goes to the rightful owner of the artwork above that I found on Pinterest.
divider by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
The first thing that hit you was the smell of disinfectant, then bright fluorescent lights and a beepbeepbeepbeep ringing in your ears. You head felt fuzzy, your vision was blurry. Blood thrummed in your ears and you hated it and you just wanted to go back to sleep but whoever was shaking your forearm wouldnât let you.
â[First Name]?â You recognized the voice instantly.
âKeyes?â You groaned, struggling to sit upright as every inch of your body creaked and ached with each movement. âWhat happened?â
âYou passed out!â He exclaimed, voice a little too loud for your liking. He must have noticed, because it was part of his job as a researcher to notice things, and he must have seen your discomfort. He leaned forward, speaking in a lower, softer tone. âI brought you to the ER. Youâve been here for almost the whole day.â
Your eyes widened. âThe whole day?â You parroted. Scenes flashed in your mind, quick and disorienting. Keyes proposed a new exhibit. The newest addition to the research center. The discovery of a new species. Seeing the Lemurian Sea God face to face. The argument, the pain in your chest. You opened your mouth to ask Keyes more questions but were cut off by a knock at the door. You both looked up and saw a bearded man dressed in black scrubs, a stethoscope wrapped loosely around his neck, followed closely by two ladies. The one in blue scrubs wheeling in a machine was named Janine; her companion in white was a student named Esmie. Janine was the RN, and the guy introduced himself as Dr. Morrison.
âWe got reports of an elevated heart rate. It could just be from waking up. Weâll still need to check.â Janine explained. Dr. Morrison nodded in agreement. She eyed Keyes. âWeâll need to have you step out of the room for a bit, sir.â
âOh, oh! Yes, of course!â Keyes practically bounced out of his seat, leaving you with the doctor and his assistants.
Do you have a history of fainting?â Janine asked.
You shook your head.
âAny sort of condition that might make you susceptible to fainting?â
âNo.â
âChanges to your diet?â Another shake of the head.
The nurse rattled off a few more conditions, the medical jargon becoming increasingly hard to understand for your jumbled brain. Dr. Morrison then stepped in and listened to your breathing with his stethoscope. You breathed slowly and deeply as per his instructions. Esmie stood against the wall, observing and taking notes in a notebook.
âProbably just fainted from stress.â He concluded, pulling away as he smiled down at you. âCould also be a case of hypotension, but Iâd bet your body was under too much stress and needed to shut down. The best thing to do is to take it easy for a few days. Although,â He pointed at your collarbone. âI would like to order a skin sample of this mark, make sure that it isnât an infection or an allergic reaction. Blood and urine too, just in case.â
You inwardly cringed behind your smile. âYeah, sure. That makes sense.â Yikes. How much is your work insurance gonna cover? You blinked. Wait, what mark? You glanced down, tugging lightly on the collar of your hospital gown. Seared onto your flesh to see the tattoo of a red fish, the same one that the gameâs protagonist got in the seventh chapter of the Main Story.
It was giving off an unearthly glow even under the hospitalâs bright lights. The heart monitor began to beep loudly as your breathing became unsteady. The doctorâs words became muffled in your ear as the world began to spin again. What you saw at the research facility hadnât been a dream, nor was it an elaborate prank orchestrated by the staff to pull your chain.
The creature you saw was real - Rafayel, in his Lemurian form, was here in your world and he had branded you with his sign. Why? God only knows. You just hoped he wasnât under the false assumption that you were his bride when she was back in the game world, your phone that was probably hundreds of miles beneath the ocean.
Dr. Morrisonâs smile widened. âGreat! Iâll have Janice and Esmie get everything ready, and weâll keep you for one more night for observation while we wait on those lab results!â
âSounds good.â
The doctor and his entourage left the room, allowing Keyes to slip back in. âEverything okay?â He asked.
âNever better.â You replied.
âThink youâll be up to going back to the office once youâre given the all clear? Thereâs a lot to do, and Iâm getting phone calls every ten minutes from your boss and my team.â
You gave him a look. âIâm still not doing the job, Keyes.â
âCome on, [First Name]!â Keyes said. âThis is an incredible opportunity! I know that we didnât get off to a great start, but think about it! A new species, one that has shown positive interactions with you in the short time since we brought him in -â
âWe are talking about a highly intelligent animal that could be capable of understanding our body language and using that to potentially harm our coworkers.â You retorted, leaning back against the pillows, wiggling around until you were comfortable enough to pull up the blanket. âAnd the doctor thinks this was all stress-induced, so I have to rest. Do nothing, be a couch potato, be kind to myself.â
âAt least sleep on it.â Keyes pleaded. âGive me an answer tomorrow?â
âFine.â You said. âAll right, I will think about it and let you know my final decision.â As much as you wanted him to drop the idea of you working with him in the research facility as Rafayelâs caregiver, you knew Keyes would not stop pestering you until you gave in. He was ambitious, curious, stubborn; as much as they were his flaws, they were also his strengths. Half of the aquariumâs rescue and rehabilitation programs wouldnât have gotten approved without his say-so, and theyâve been big game changers in the employee workflow and animal care.
With that being said, Keyes left the room with a smile on his face and head hunched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, no doubt texting your boss about the current situation. How you were okay, and heâd get a final decision from you ASAP.
You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. There were a lot more cons than pros if you took on this job. You have explained it to him, yet only with your game knowledge, there was nothing solid to prove just how dangerous Rafayel is to the staff and the public. More importantly, how would you be able to help him get back to his world if they revoked your clearance at the research facility? You didnât have your phone, but that didnât mean you couldnât review Youtuber play-throughs and search for clues in the gameâs lore.
Keyes had better include an incentive if I go through with this. You thought glumly as the nurses came back, gloved up and ready to collect samples as the doctor ordered.
The humans walked around the lab, murmuring softly to each other or their eyes focused on the tablets they cradled so tenderly, and not on him. The Lemurian god did not mind, as he spent his time performing laps in this enclosed space that they had so kindly provided for him. As much as he wished to destroy the glass walls and find out what exactly had happened to his bride, this new world was bigger than Romirro. It would be a waste of magic to transform as a human when he did not even know where she had been taken by that Keyes man.
Were you all right? Had something else happened since you had collapsed? Rafayel felt a shudder crawl his spine. Two days have passed since he has seen you. Two days of absolute agony for him. When a Lemurian and his chosen betrothed create a bond, they must have constant physical contact until the magic solidified. Being apart for too long could undo it everything, and Rafayel could not bring himself to make you suffer like that again.
He was about to perform another lap around the tank when he heard the taptaptaptap of footsteps on the shining floors. He looked up, and saw you walking towards him; haggard-looking, dark circles under your eyes, shoulders were drawn back, and eyes narrowed in anger. But what were you so angry about?
Rafayel watched you closely, seeing you talk to the other humans for a moment before drifting towards the right towards a set of doors, carrying a bundle of clothes in your arms and a rectangular piece of plastic dangling from your neck.
â - I canât just pretend that he doesnât exist. I need to talk to him alone without anyone else noticing.â You murmured, disappearing from his sight as soon as the doors closed behind you with a loud ka-thunkk.
Anger flared in Rafayelâs chest, his bandaged tail swishing from left to right. How dare you? How could you even think about another man when he was right here?
Oh, he will have some words to say to you soon enough.