The White-Haired Shut-In (6)
"……."
Si-ho stood frozen in place like a statue. The white-haired girl blinked her large eyes. Her lips twitched as if she were about to say something. Then she tilted her head quizzically before slowly backing away, melting into the shadows of the abandoned house.
"Ah! W-wait just a moment! Please hold on!"
Startled, Izuki sprang to his feet. He rushed to the door of the ruined house, but already from beyond came the sounds of thunk, clunk—barricading it with junk.
"I'm serious, Master. Please believe me!"
Izuki quickly appealed through what could hardly be called a window—more like a hole in the wall. But the darkness inside the house remained deathly silent, like a dead mouse. The boy tried to peer into the gloom for any sign of Si-ho, then caught himself with an oh no and lowered his gaze, stepping back.
To think I'd presume to peek into Master's dwelling. What irreverent behavior.
Izuki reflected on his rashness.
And besides... Master is a delicate girl, after all.
No matter how immense her power, her heart was that of a fragile young woman. She'd just been in the throes of panic, barely able to breathe. To raise his voice so boldly before such a frail master...
Izuki clamped his mouth shut and bowed deeply toward the house.
"I was presumptuous and reckless. Forgive me..."
The boy waited, hoping his sincerity would reach her, then slowly rose and bowed once more.
"Then I'll take my leave. Please rest well."
Thud, thud. The boy's footsteps gradually faded. Only when they vanished completely into the underbrush did a white shadow slip out from the house's darkness.
G-gone...?
Si-ho scanned outside with anxious eyes, sighed in relief at the empty landscape, and slumped against the wall like a deflated balloon. She crawled to her usual corner and huddled there.
Never trust anyone. The only safe place is this little nook.
Si-ho hugged her knees, arms wrapped tight, and gazed around the room. Dusk had settled, blending cold grays, melancholic purples, and lonely sunset hues over the piles of trash. She, meanwhile, crouched in pitch-black shadow untouched by the light, ears pricked for intruders—bad people, wild animals from the mountains.
But as always, the lifeless corner yielded no sounds. Only the thin March evening wind whistled hollowly.
...Cold.
Sensing the chill, Si-ho curled tighter. Unthinkingly seeking warmth, she clasped her hands to her chest. Until full night fell, she slept alone in the house's silence.
✿
Faint birdsong. Sunlight on her eyelids. Si-ho scowled.
"Ugh... Ah, m-morning already?"
She groaned, rolling her heavy body. Stiff from squatting all night, she forced her limbs upright and habitually patted her waist.
Oh, another perilous day begins...
Si-ho sighed, strength draining away. To savor her unchanging naturalist lifestyle—wary of beasts or mad slashers, wandering the hillside, shoving grass or bugs in her mouth if it didn't reek of blood—she prepared to crawl outside. Preparation meant just checking her sword, of course.
...?
But she'd been fumbling her waist forever, and... nothing.
......Oh no.
Confirming the empty spot with her own eyes brought yesterday's memory rushing back. That Sword God? Assassin guy. She'd blown his head off, so her sword must've shattered too. Normally she'd loot one from the corpse, but...
Big trouble.
Cold sweat trickled down Si-ho's neck. No sword. Her lifeline.
"H-heeek...!"
She stumbled back, tripped on trash, and fell flat on her butt.
W-what do I do? No sword... no sword...
In a world where the sword was law, no blade meant no rights. Meet a ronin like Genzaburo on the road for tsujigiri? Without a sword, they'd just scold Who goes out unarmed? Serves you right.
N-no... not again.
Her past life's pathetic death bubbled up. Better to starve in this corner than die like that. Trembling long in that thought, a faint scent suddenly tickled her nose on the breeze.
"...?"
Si-ho narrowed her eyes, focusing.
This is... food?
Peeking out the window in confusion, she saw a boy at the scent's source, beaming brightly.
"Ah, Master! Have you been well?"
Si-ho blinked at the boy's innocent cheer. Well? It's been one day?
Ah, oh no.
Snapping to, Si-ho dove into the shadows.
His casual greeting had nearly disarmed her.
W-what? Why's he back? T-Tofu hotpot boy...
Like a snail, she peeked out. He stood there, holding up a neatly wrapped bento toward the house.
"Master! I've prepared a humble breakfast. Would you care to share it with me?"
Izuki shook the box lightly. The intensified aroma—fresh rice, soy-grilled mackerel, tangy-sweet plum pickles—wafted stronger. Si-ho's sensitive nose drowned in sweet scents. Her empty stomach, fasting since yesterday's tofu, rebelled like torture.
B-but...
She couldn't just wolf down food from a suspicious guy. But you ate the tofu yesterday? Yesterday she had her sword—ready to decapitate any funny business. Now? Defenseless. If he wrapped her like a bossam roll, her tiny body couldn't fight back.
Thus dithering behind junk, she heard:
"If it's inconvenient, I'll leave it and go."
Rustle, rustle. Unwrapping sounds, then his footsteps retreated without protest.
"...?"
Si-ho peeked out. On pink cloth lay the bento, abandoned.
...W-what trick is this?
She craned her neck, scanning everywhere. No sign of the boy. Wary but drawn by the smell, she crept closer, checked for traps or snares, then gingerly lifted the lid.
"...!"
Warm steam burst with heavenly scents, dizzying her. Appetizing dishes greeted her shyly, mackerel front and center, packed neatly.
"O-ohhh..."
She lifted the bento reverently, admired it long, then whoosh—snatched the cloth and bolted inside.
And watching from distant bushes: a shadow.
"Mm. She seems satisfied. Good."
Izuki nodded, pleased, and smiled.
Light-footed, he descended... only to return next morning.
"Master! Slept well? I've prepared another modest meal."
And the day after.
"Master! Sweets and tea for refreshment. Care to try?"
And the next.
"Master, red sea bream is in season in March Kyoto. Fresh sashimi—eat before it spoils."
And onward. For over ten straight days, Izuki brought food without fail.
Si-ho started snatch-and-grab wary, but day by day, she lingered, savoring aromas and sights. Dusty gloom inside dulled them, after all.
Izuki watched discreetly from the grass.
...Like taming a skittish wild animal.
The thought struck, but comparing august Master to a beast? Inappropriate. He shook his head.
Better: offerings to a shrine deity.
Thus their odd routine stretched past a fortnight—until unheralded snow blanketed the region. Mid-March snow? People whispered of national ruin.
Izuki frowned at the swirling flakes.
Worried for Master's safety.
The house was one storm from collapse, holes everywhere. Thick snow could bury it anytime. He grabbed food and winter gear, climbed.
Ankles-deep snow crunched underfoot, but worsening gale and frost hounded each step.
Just... a bit farther.
Visibility near zero in the murk, but faint house outline appeared. Cold-reddened face broke into a smile. He urged sodden, heavy legs—but they froze stiff, unresponsive. Vision flickered like a dying candle. In the blur's edge, a glimpse of a white girl... then Izuki collapsed into the snow like falling asleep.