The wind had grown chill.  Shion sat before the dwindling fire he’d managed to set alight, desperately attempting to keep it fed with the damp, straggling branches.  He’d eaten fish, again, and an assortment of berries he’d stumbled upon.  His stomach was still growling.  Odd how one day he could have no appetite at all, and be absolutely ravenous the next.  He had purchased warmer clothes more suited to the weather and still had plenty to spare, but going back into the village to buy food was out of the question.  Someone would surely find him there, and return him to the man he hated-

An unfamiliar sound interrupted the silent landscape, a kind of metallic tink-

Shion glanced up in alarm.  A man was approaching him, such a man as should never have strayed into the wilds, one wearing armor with his hair knotted up severely atop his head-

All sense of reason immediately left him.  He did the first thing he could think of.  He ran.  He ran as fast as he possibly could, a frightened animal careening through the woods, crashing into errant twigs and branches.  If the man had carried a bow, it would have been useless, but he had not appeared to.  Perhaps Shion could still outpace him-

Suddenly another soldier appeared before him, so abruptly Shion could not change the course of his movement.  His feet slipped in the heavy mud, and the man simply reached out and grabbed him.  He struggled against the arms holding firm at his waist, but it was entirely useless.

“You-”  The man smiled softly, shaking his head in disbelief.  “You are the apothecary’s runaway, are you not?”

Shion pulled desperately against his grasp, but the samurai didn’t budge at all.  He regarded Shion’s futile efforts with an obvious sense of amusement.

“I didn’t run away,” Shion panted breathlessly.  “I tried to purchase my freedom, but he stole the money from me instead-”

“Do you have a witness?”

"No.”  He lowered his head and stopped fighting the unwavering grip that held him.

“So it is your word against his.”

“The man is a cheat and a liar,” Shion insisted.  “Ask anyone in the village, they’ll tell you-”

His gaze alighted on something which made him pause.  That insignia the man wore-

Was not Kamui’s.

“Has Lord Hatori made it here already?,” he murmured.  “It has not yet been seven days-”

The man did not seem at all surprised by his question.  “No, little peasant.  He sent some of us out in advance.  I take it you know about Kamui’s death?”

Shion nodded slightly.

“May I ask how?”

Perhaps if he admitted his relationship to Lord Kamui, this man might be inclined to show him mercy.  Shion gazed up at him doubtfully.  He was smiling, but it seemed superficial somehow, like it reached no further than his lips.

“We were- attached to each other.  The money the apothecary took was his final gift to me.”

The man released him.  He tilted his head, regarding Shion with evident curiosity before granting him the tiniest nod.  “My condolences to you, then.  Kamui was a good man, and a consummate warrior.  It is truly a shame he died so far from the field.”  The samurai gave him a searching look.  “Were you called upon to see to his wound?”

“No.”  Shion lowered his head.  “If I had, he would still be with us.”

“Ah.”  The man sighed.  “That sounds exactly like him.  He was always so stubborn-”

It was strange speaking like this with a stranger.  Shion had hardly expected to find him so sympathetic.

“You must have known him quite well.”

The samurai smiled at him once again.  “So well that, many years ago, I might have found myself in your place, little peasant.”

He stared up at the man in disbelief.

“But alliances can shift at a moment’s notice.  One must never mix politics with pleasure, no matter how great the temptation.”

Shion had no idea how to respond to this.  The man chuckled softly.

“So, little peasant- what am I to do with you now?  Return you to your master, or leave you to fend for yourself in these mountains all winter?  Neither option seems quite suitable for the man Kamui wished to set free.”

“Take me back to the fortress with you.”  The forcefulness of his own tone surprised him.  Shion lowered his eyes.  “I have valuable skills I can place at Lord Hatori’s disposal.”

“Skills you could just as easily use to poison him.”

"My lord, I have no desire to see Lord Kamui’s ally come to harm.”

“What if I told you that Hatori was responsible for your lord's death?”  Something in the man’s voice made Shion hesitate.  “That he fell to one of Hatori’s soldiers?”

"Then I would ask for proof of his involvement.”

“And if I was able to provide it?  What would you do then?”

Shion gazed up at the tall samurai.  Why did the man feel compelled to test him in this way?

“My lord, I am a healer.  Not an assassin.  No power in the world will ever change that.”

That veiled smile deepened ever so slightly.

“My name is Yuma.  I am Lord Hatori’s second in command.”

It wasn’t a title so much as an explanation of one.  He supposed the man wanted to sound suitably impressive, but it made little enough difference to Shion one way or another.  Lord Yuma seemed to find the lack of awe he’d inspired somewhat discouraging.

“Shion Kaito,” he responded, bowing.

"Are you carrying anything that might be used as a weapon?"

"No," he answered softly as Lord Yuma lifted the flute from his sash.  The man laughed.

"I suppose you could hardly do much harm with this."

He lowered his head.  His master had regarded him in the same way, hadn't he?  Weak, and helpless.  Not to be taken seriously at all.

"Play it for me," the man commanded, pressing it into Shion's hand.

He had no idea what the man wished to hear.  At that moment he felt nothing but anger.  Shion allowed it to sear his lungs and overflow them.  The notes which left his lips were sharp and frenzied.  The rhythm shifted, rising to a crescendo which ended with a long and lingering cry.  He tore the instrument from his lips and thrust it back into its place at his side, staring sullenly down at the ground.

Lord Yuma remained still and silent.  When he glanced up again, the man was no longer smiling.  He felt a small, secretive rush of triumph until a soft curve began to play across the sharp edges of the man's hard mouth.  Why did it have to remind him of-

"Come, Shion."  The man gestured him forward with a wave of his hand.  "I need to rejoin the others and see if they have found what we sought here."

Up until that point, he’d assumed they’d been looking for him.  What else could Lord Hatori's men possibly be searching for in these remote mountains?    Unless-

Had Kagamine come there to find him, after all, even though he'd abandoned the boy back at the tavern?  What if he’d heard the sound of the flute, and heedlessly rushed towards it?  Had Shion unknowingly entrapped him?

He felt a pang of guilt squeezing at his chest as he hurried after Yuma's receding footsteps.