Yabona was sore all over. Sore from the practice that lasted far longer than she had anticipated last night. Sore from sleeping on the ground. She had found a choice spot near Gin's inn for sleep, even a discarded straw mat to cover herself with; all in all, life was good. The sun was just rising and she was rubbing sleep from her eyes and preparing to meet another promise. It was difficult for her to pinpoint the reason she had decided to train. There was the obvious: friendship. But there was something else there too, something impulsive, though perhaps something right. Innately. It felt like progress; it felt like for the first time in seven months since the death of her uncle she had mastery of her own life. In short, there was a path now through the forest. Overgrown, and trod only by the occasional deer, often obfuscated, but vaguely there. As for food: she would still need to steal. She had promised to work for two months. Her wages had already been paid. It could not be too hard to scrub floors and flog bedding on an empty stomach.

The walk to the inn was short, she hesitated out front for longer than it took to walk over. Through the doors was unknown, and there were expectations to meet, as yet ill defined. Just a notion, imagined, of what it meant to work at an inn. With a fortifying breath she stepped through the door.

Gin was there, leaning over a counter and speaking to an older woman, her grey hair up in a bun. He was wearing his small clothes, yawning, scratching himself. There was a bell above the door, disturbed by Yabona's entrance. Gin looked at her and blinked away sleep.

“Ah! Little one, you came,” he said, and then to the old matron, “See? I have a very keen eye for character.”

“And a poor sense for numbers,” she sighed.

“And you'll get yourself some breakfast, yes. You're skin and bone,” Gin said to Yabona and he started to walk for the stairs off to his left. He paused on the first step and as an afterthought turned to the old woman, “If you need me, Hiromi, you are out of luck. I will be asleep.”

The old woman watched Gin walk up the stairs, after he was out of sight she turned to Yabona and said, “Your new 'employer' is incorrigible. I heard you drove a hard bargain.”

It was hard to read her. Yabona stood where she had initially entered, trying to think of what she should say. Eventually the old woman laughed and shook her head. “As long as I still get paid, I suppose I do not mind. There are quite a few of you now, I wonder where we'll find all the work to keep you busy. Come with me now, dear.”

“Quite a few of us?” Yabona crossed the waxed and polished wooden floors.

“Unfortunates. He has a big heart, and a purse big enough to satisfy that heart, it seems. Strange man, I have never met any stranger.”

Yabona opened her mouth to protest. But there wasn't anything to argue against. She was certainly unfortunate. It was the tone, however, that offended – matter of fact, deliberate, true, irritatingly true.

The kitchen was a wide mostly open area, and had a dirt floor with several rectangular fire pits in the centre. Cookware hung from the walls, food stuffs hung on ropes from the rafters.

“Azami,” Hiromi said as they entered. “He has brought you another.” And with that the old woman turned and left.

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Standing over a pot was a young woman. Black hair, small eyes. Short.

Azami was bent over a pot, inspecting it's contents. She looked up and smiled warmly. “You are hungry.”

Yabona blushed and nodded. “I'll work hard,” she blurted out.

Azami laughed. “Here, I'll dish you something, and after you're done eating we can sort out your chores.”

Yabona took a steaming bowl of rice from Azami, and with it the woman placed a cut of dried fish on top, smiling, “as a special treat. Don't expect it everyday.”

Yabona sat down and dug in. “He takes in a lot of kids?” She said between mouthfuls.

Azami cocked her head. “A few, yes.”

“I will work for it. The food and...”

“I know, I know,” Azami laughed, “There are plenty of pots for you to scrub, don't worry. You might even regret those words.”

“H-how long will it take?”

“Hmm,” Azami pursed her lips, “all day I would presume.”

“That many pots?”

“That many. And they are crusted, it will be a tough first day.”

“Hmm,” Yabona hummed.

“Have somewhere to be?”

“I'm training in martial arts.”

Azami stopped poking the fire, and then doubled over laughing.

Yabona frowned.

“I'm strong! I know it!”

“You would have to be. A girl your size all alone, of course you're strong. I didn't mean anything by it.”

And why? Why the outburst? Had she ever considered herself strong? Had she ever considered herself much at all?

Yabona's stomach grumbled, she ate.

When she had finished the others had arrived. Alike in stature to her, in garb, in the dirt on their faces. Azami flitted among them, filling and handing out bowls, ruffling hair, choice quips. The air was merry. The sun was bright, the breeze through the bead curtain windows cool.

Yabona fell inward, tumbled down years, to a modest dirt floor home not unlike this kitchen. To a sensation not unlike this. There hadn't been any worry then. She preferred not to think of the past. Wiping rice grains from her face she puffed up her chest and proudly announced she was ready for work. Azami halted, looked up from a girl she was quietly talking to.

“Then come with me. Everyone else, you know what to do, do your best.”

Azami lead her outside into a courtyard, coarse and rocky with a long trough of water and a dozen pots about as big as Azami next to it. “We had a feast yesterday,” she explained, “and couldn't finish all the washing. We'll need a few of these done quick, you're ready to work right?”

“Yes!”

Azami laughed. “Good, there's a brush right over here. They don't have to be spotless, but, well...”

“I'll clean them good!”

And when the sun was about to fall she had cleaned them all, her hand forced into a claw that hurt to move, her elbow burning. An uncertain feeling in her chest.

“All done?” Azami said from the door way, leaning out.

Yabona nodded

“You can stay here, you know, if you like. There's an old wing with a room set aside for workers.”

Yabona was only half listening, lost in thought.

She had missed practice.

Tomorrow will be better. She'll be faster.

“I'll stay,” she said. “Thank you.”