#li long

the scene following this just makes it even more devastating (in a "im kicking my feet and punching my bed" kind of way) 🥹🥹

Quiet Ones

(Possible content warning for injuries at the beginning; not terribly graphic though.)

Li Long awoke to the sounds of footsteps and the steady tapping of a cane, then stretched his aching limbs. He rose from the futon and stepped into the warm sunlight that streamed through the lattice window. Slowly he began to peel the stained bandage off his right arm, revealing a raw, reddish slash. Too close, he knew. The blades and arrows of the daimyō’s guards came all too close to ending his mission. Long had strength enough to evade the ones that pursued him, but the archers had gotten in two lucky shots to his left side and leg. He ran toward the mountains until he staggered, breathless and bleeding down the lone dirt road, clutching his bladed nunchaku. Had the daughter of the nameshi shopkeeper not found him collapsed, he would have died a fool of an assassin, alone in enemy country.

Now he was tempted to retrieve his weapon from under his pillow and use the jutting blades at either end to cut the rest of his bandages. But, even as his hands trembled, he began to remove the bandage on his left arm. He could almost feel it burning again, as though he had been winged by an arrow. Finally, he would have to check his torso and left shoulder.

Long then turned at the soft footsteps behind him. A young woman in a yellow-red, lattice patterned kimono looked on in surprise, holding a steaming tea cup. A bundle of clean, undyed cloth was tucked into her red obi.

“Oh, good morning, Chie,” Long said.

With a shy smile, Chie drew closer and handed him the cup. The light brush of her slender fingers steadied his hand. How it stung him to remember that when he first woke up here, he had shrank from her touch as though it were poison. Not once had she shown any malice. Her manner was as patient and gentle as ever. He sipped slowly, savoring the tea. Her tea had always been good.

She seemed to glow in the light, with the soft sheen of her black hair and the bright daylily-color of her kimono. He thought that he might have imagined her cheeks blushing, but she quickly turned her head away. In a whisper, one word slipped from his mouth: “Beautiful.”

Chie looked at him from the corner of her eye, placing her hand over her mouth. Then she giggled to herself.

Long only knew Chie’s voice from her laughter, sometimes her sighs, and, on quiet evenings, a soft hum of a little melody. Even these little sounds had become lovely to him. “I meant it,” he said. “You really are beautiful.”

At the tapping of a bamboo cane, they both froze. Her father Hachibei stepped into the little room, with only a raised eyebrow to show for his mood. “I trust you’re feeling better, Li Long?” he asked flatly.

“Still sore,” Long answered. “Better than yesterday, though.”

Hachibei silently examined Long’s scabbed-over wounds. “You’re lucky indeed. By now, you might’ve been feverish from blood poisoning.”

Long could only nod. He had noticed a dark line on the cane, just below the second ridge from the top. Rumor had it in this country that some assassins hid blades in canes like that one. Why would an aging nameshi shopkeeper from some isolated mountain village even need one?

“And you, Chie,” Hachibei continued, turning to his daughter, “you’ve certainly done well in looking after him.”

Chie simply nodded.

Hachibei looked at the both of them, as though lost in thought. “I’ll be preparing breakfast if you need me. Li Long, you’re welcome to join us.” He then left for the kitchen.

Long heaved a sigh of relief. Hachibei had been courteous enough to let him stay and recuperate. He never asked him why he came to Japan, let alone this far inland. By the Emperor’s orders, he probably should not have gone that far—unless there was a chance that the Hero’s Sword was there.

Later that morning, Long joined Chie and Hachibei for breakfast. It was a simple meal of rice, as it usually was. All the while, he could not help but catch Chie stealing glances at him over her bowl. He knew he ought not to get attached to her, but as far as he was concerned, the Hero’s Sword could wait.

Hachibei gave him only one warning: “Be careful with my daughter, Li Long. She’s all I have left.”

Summer evenings quietly passed. Long tried to get himself back into fighting shape by practicing with his bladed nunchaku in a small clearing at some distance from the village. Chie followed him, only looking back after movements that even he did not hear. She had watched him swing the nunchaku over his head and all around, even shredding the leaves of a sapling. Just seeing her admiring gaze was enough to invigorate him.

But at night, the woods were so eerily quiet that he did not doubt Chie’s silent imploring to leave at sunset. There had been no sign of the daimyō’s soldiers since his escape, but Long’s instincts told him that the woods had to be crawling with bandits.

Some nights, when there had been no sound but wind, Chie squeezed his hand and stayed by him a little while longer. Long embraced her and let her rest her head in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll protect you, Chie,” he whispered as he stroked her hair. “I promise.” He then kissed her forehead.

She relaxed in his arms. For a moment, a guilty look crossed her face, then she leaned on him and gave an exhausted sigh. Whatever it was, Long could not shake the feeling that it was something that Hachibei had not told him about.

Chie let go of Long and stood up. She waited a moment as the wind died down and quiet prevailed. She briefly knelt down, then kissed him on the cheek.

li long was known to harbor bitter feelings for mitsurugi in the old timeline, it seems that that remains true now in the new timeline too