Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Medicine Seller is, unsurprisingly, a difficult man to find.

After the occurrence of last month, the Medicine Seller had made himself sparse, colorful kimono fluttering (dispersing) into the night like the glow of fireflies at the wane of summer. Dazzling. Flickering. Departed ‘til need (instinct) necessitates a return once more.

How obnoxious really. More spirit than man—by his appearance and abilities, perhaps he is—the Medicine Seller had left with nary a word, nary a trace of where he had gone. It’s a matter that Saburomaru, from time to time, complains about amid their conversations together.

While he may not be integral to her duties—she is a scribe, not a detective—Asa must admit to some curiosity. It is human nature to be inquisitive after all, especially for someone of her wit. To look. To feel. To think. To take in the world as it is truly yet to desire more.

Here, in the Ōoku and with its secrets, it may be natural to suppress such an urge, but just as with a clay pot forgotten outside in autumn, it would overflow eventually, having taken in the continual rains.

What is he? What is the final goal? Who is he?

A merchant of course. He had introduced himself as such during their first encounter. But still…that, if anything, leads to more questions. Gaudiness and persistence are to be expected of a merchant, but even among them, the Medicine Seller’s flamboyance is near unheard of.

That makeup. That flashy manner of dress. That languid (purposeful) way of speech and action.

Would that level of exaggeration not also interfere with his mission? Or would that sort of appearance lower one’s guard? She isn’t a merchant. She doesn’t know what those of that ilk think. At most, she could only make useless conjectures. Like Saburomaru and everyone else, she feels a sense of curiosity: part-gratitude, part-obligation, part-nature. She hadn’t even been able to thank him.

Shaking her head with a sigh, Asa continues, making her way to the gardens. A well-worn path at this point, her body automatically moves, footsteps soft upon the flooring. She needs to hurry for the full moon viewing. The night may be long, but sleep is nowhere near so. Not with her duties.

Taking a step into the gardens, she sighs again, her thoughts turning back to the Medicine Seller.

Such a strange man! Could he be called a man? Or was he some sort of yokai?

Like any other child, Asa has heard plenty of tales, some from here and others carried back from abroad—mentions of shapeshifting monsters, gods masquerading as fellow human beings, a number of things, each more terrifying than the last.

A kitsune maybe? From the brief glances that she had caught, his features are reminiscent of a fox. The mannerisms to—

Asa stops, her eyes widening as she spies a familiar figure. Cradled among the branches, the hues and patterns of his kimono unmistakable underneath the glare of moonlight, the Medicine Seller gazes upward, messy off-white hair waving in the cool night air. Edges tinged red, they flicker softly, a sight that reminds her of onibi—calling, gently calling. Dangerous. It isn’t something that should be approached.

Yet still, she finds herself taking a step forward, footfalls stopping just as quickly as they had resumed. A short distance from one another, it would easy to call for his attention.

Should she? From that short period together, he most likely isn’t a danger (her instincts urge her to reconsider), but still…

After a few moments of consideration, Asa raises her hands, bringing them close together, the index and middle of each hand pressing against their respective thumbs. An old motion with some complexity, it bends the fingers and wrists uncomfortably, particularly when she moves to the following steps, stopping just before she hooks her thumbs around the index and ring.

What would she find? Would she find something? Did she want to find something?

Whatever her reservations may be, Asa soon completes the motion, the fox’s window; unconsciously closing her eyes as she brings her hands up to her face.

When Asa opens them, she jolts, a consequence of the gaze that had come to meet hers, gold entirely too amused for her tastes. It feels as if he were laughing at her.

“Are you here for the view as well?” Still the same as always, the Medicine Seller smiles, makeup accentuating that foxlike expression. With one leg dangling carelessly over the branch, other drawn loosely toward his chest, it’s an entirely flippant sort of pose. Below, at the base of the tree, his tansu sits silently. “Or do you wish to buy something? My shop is always open.”

Asa separates her fingers. Her unease has yet to leave her. “The view.”

“I see.” The Medicine Seller nods, shifting as to return his gaze to the moon. In his lap, he balances a small wooden bento box. “It is rather nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?”

With slender fingers, he undoes the thin ropes and opens it, the fragrant scent of spices and meat spilling outward.

“Yes. I find that the moon is the same wherever one goes. Beautiful yet never changing.” He laughs lightly, index and thumb carefully picking up a roll. “That is what a concubine aspires to be or so I’ve heard. It is what the ladies of Zhou’s court used to whisper about anyhow. Konoe’s too.” He shakes his head, and once again, Asa is reminded of an onibi. “Although…the men are much the same in their interests. So easy to wind around your fingers…”

Brow furrowed, Asa doesn’t reply. What could she even say to such a statement? Rather than a answer, it feels as if dozen more mysteries had been bestowed upon her. Naturally, she knows those names well. It is a popular story after all. But…was it not a woman? The Medicine Seller may dress oddly, but his shoulders are too broad to be a woman’s. Not to mention the Adam’s apple.

Taking a bite of his roll, the Medicine Seller continues, “My apologies. That was rather off-topic, wasn’t it?” He smiles, fangs peeking from in-between his lips. “I get rather chatty on nights like this. My colleague”—he snorts at the word, a glimmer of oddly affectionate mirth shining in his eyes—“says that I have a bad habit for rambling. But what does he know? He speaks even less than I do.”

Finishing his roll, the Medicine Seller reaches for another one. Rather than devouring it, however, he offers it to Asa. An apology most likely.

Though, she doesn’t take it, and after a few seconds, the Medicine Seller sighs, withdrawing the offering.

“It isn’t poisoned.” As if to demonstrate, he finishes it. “These are cabbage rolls.” He pauses. “Non-ornamental of course. This strand of cabbage is edible. Rather popular abroad, but not so much here. I have had the most difficult of times tryi—“

“Are you human?”

That causes the Medicine Seller to stop, his gaze returning hers. Chin tilted slightly, eyes narrowed much like a beast’s before pouncing, it looks as if he were studying her. Unconsciously, Asa pulls her kimono closer herself. There is a chill tonight, and she would need to depart soon.

“Sometimes,” he replies after what seemed like hours. The smell continues to waft, tickling her senses with its pleasantness. “Sometimes, I am human.”

What a cryptic answer!

She could feel a flush of annoyance rise within her, briefly driving away that discomfort.

Before she could reply, however, the Medicine Seller reaches into the container and draws out another cabbage roll and offers it to her again.

“It’ll warm you up.” Without waiting for a response, he tosses it to her, a hum of approval sounding as Asa catches it. “I prepared it myself. I made plenty if you find that you enjoy the taste.”

He looks at her expectantly, gold mirthful as always. In the moonlit dark, there is a strange sheen to them—a glow not unlike that of an animal’s.

Even as curiosity nicks at her, she hesitates.

“Is there…” Asa trails off. Already, the thought, the consideration, makes her queasy.

“Human?” he finishes for her. “Perhaps. You will only know if you try it.” His smile widens, white teeth bared in provocation. “Do you wish to test your luck? You will know when you reach Enma’s court.”

Again, Asa feels that surge of annoyance—at this point, she could understand some of Sakashita’s sentiments—but still, nevertheless, human nature accompanies it. She wants to know.

Thus, after a few moments, she lifts it up to her lips and bites.

Warm. Aromatic. Perfectly spiced.

It tastes like regular meat. Mountain whale maybe?

Finishing it, she hears the Medicine Seller’s please hum. It almost sounds like the purr of an overly spoiled house cat.

“Isn’t it good? I made the recipe myself. A good wife should be able to cook for the husband.”

Hair drifting in the wind, the Medicine Seller chuckles. Some inane personal joke meant to irk her most likely.

Looking upward still, Asa shakes her head. Taste aside, her question still hasn’t been answered.

“Thank you.”

The Medicine Seller nods. “My pleasure. Do you wish for anoth—“

Asa raises her hand, cutting him off. She doesn’t want to test her luck further.

“I mean for last month as well. For saving everyone.”

To her surprise, the Medicine Seller frowns. Below, the tansu clatters slightly, as if to laugh.

“You shouldn’t thank someone for a penance.” He snorts. “Granted, I assume that it is more akin to a permanent job at this point…”

Turning away from her, he returns his gaze to the moon, a clear end to the conversation even as those faint mutterings continue.

What an irksome man! She almost calls out to him again, stopping herself at the last second with a shake of her head. By the position of the moon, she would have to retire soon. Does she truly wish to waste her time in another roundabout conversation? It isn’t what she had come here for originally, and it isn’t as if the Medicine Seller would disappear soon. From what she could surmise, his purpose here has yet to finish.

For this reason, Asa soon peers upward, not toward the Medicine Seller but to the yellow full moon.

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