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"...When did you get a bulletin board?"
Emiko glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "A couple of weeks ago, when you were busy presumably getting into trouble in Sand."
Makoto snorted half-heartedly; he had indeed gotten into his fair share of trouble. "So I just didn't notice until now. Good to know. Who's Uriko?"
"Local herbwoman, does some medicines for the people who don't quite need the hospital." She looked at the message board, then back to him. "And jams."
"...Jams?" He debated which she would be advertising for help with. "I'm assuming she has a normal supplier for plants; why ask for a ninja?"
"Probably because it's more dangerous now," Emiko said candidly, ignoring the lock of red hair hanging in front of her face as she worked a cork out of a bottle of red wine. "I don't think her usual supplier feels like wandering out into the desert, what with half the populace being afraid of Sand ninja and the rest just plain being afraid of the desert animals and news that a gigantic sandworm attacked Sand."
"That part's true," he said absently, memorizing the date and time to meet. "I was there."
He only realized he'd said the second part out loud when he looked back over to see Emiko's stricken expression, her dark eyes wide.
"You were there--you fought that thing?" She set the corkscrew and cook down on the bartop. "I thought you were less crazy than the average ninja!"
Makoto shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable. He still didn't like what it said about him, that he'd done that. "Well. I came out fine. Only a cracked rib or two, which I patched up easily enough."
This did not appear to help.
"It really isn't a big deal..." he trailed off, sensing by the look on her face and the tension in her shoulders that perhaps civilians had a different idea of what sorts of injuries were and were not a big deal. "Sorry. I was raised in a...combative family. We learned how to fight fairly young. These sorts of things are normal to me. But really, I did come out of it pretty much the best of anyone."
"This time," she said, eyes flashing. "This time you did! How many times before this have you run into something crazy?"
"I was perfectly prepared each time, which was why I came out of them all fine," he said mildly. "If you're worried I'm going to get overconfident and stop planning before I go into a mission, you don't need to. One of my main principles is to be prepared, to the point people consider me over-prepared. And I try to undershoot reality with my guesses."
Emiko was silent as she poured out wine for a group of women in the corner, beckoned a waitress over to take it to them, and sent her off.
"All right," she said at last. "And...I can't really ask you not to do things, because that's your job. But at least keep being pessimistic, all right? And...maybe be cynical a little more too. These aren't very stable times."
"I know." He cocked his head. "...Do I not seem cynical to you?"
She gave him a slight smile. "No. Not at all."
Huh.
Well, he'd never heard that assessment made of him before.
Wednesday at eleven in the morning he made it to the front of the as-yet-unopen bar to find an elderly woman sitting on one of the wooden benches outside.
"I take it you're Uriko?" he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.
She squinted up at him, albeit not very much. "Hmmm. Mmm. Yes. How well do you know your herbs?"
My family makes poisons and I've always found it fun to sit and watch the process. "Well enough, I expect."
She eyed him skeptically. "We'll see. What part of a rose cactus do you use?"
"Spines, for a muscle relaxant," he answered. He did know a bit about Wind Country's plants, too; ever since they had encountered that fellow with the scorpion cult he'd looked into them. "Although only in small doses."
She hummed. "Wax fruit?"
"The leaves can do a lot of things, but I'd say their anti-inflammatory properties are the best part." He was really glad he had a good memory.
"Rabbit ear cactus?"
"Useless, unless you need to find water."
"Thimble berries?"
His expression twitched as he fought a smile. "Jam."
Uriko nodded, satisfied. "You'll do." She reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper, which she handed to him. "These to me by sunset. My address is there too. You'll be compensated if you're on time."
She declined his help to get up, and toddled off at a surprising speed down the street, apparently heading home. He only watched her go for a moment before reading over the contents of the list and raising an eyebrow.
"All right then," he mumbled. "This...is not just medicine." There were some pretty toxic things on this list, but hey, if she made poison he wasn't going to say anything. Glass houses, after all.
He fetched a basket, then wandered out into the desert in the general direction of where he knew some of the plants on the list to be. For the most part, the woman wanted useful plants that made good medicines or jams or spices, but there were also instructions to pick up some highly toxic midnight blooms, which if he recalled correctly (and he always did) was something he ought to handle quite carefully.
He made it back to town with the entire list filled out long before sunset, which gave him ample time to find the address listed on the note. The elderly herbwoman made 'hmm' noises as she checked everything over before paying him, and he made it to the bar just as the night crowd started coming in.
"I'm sorry for last night," Emiko said as he sat down at the bar. "It's just...I like you, you're a good friend, and I don't deal well with my friends doing crazy things. I should realize you're a lot tougher than you look."
"Don't worry about it," he said amicably. "I spent the day doing something much safer, anyway."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? What was that?"
He stretched and didn't bother to hide his grin. "Picking flowers."
Wanted: Ninja with knowledge of herbs
Meet Uriko at the Birdhouse Bar
11 AM, Wednesday
<COLOR color="#0086CE">Meet Uriko at the Birdhouse Bar
11 AM, Wednesday
"...When did you get a bulletin board?"
Emiko glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "A couple of weeks ago, when you were busy presumably getting into trouble in Sand."
Makoto snorted half-heartedly; he had indeed gotten into his fair share of trouble. "So I just didn't notice until now. Good to know. Who's Uriko?"
"Local herbwoman, does some medicines for the people who don't quite need the hospital." She looked at the message board, then back to him. "And jams."
"...Jams?" He debated which she would be advertising for help with. "I'm assuming she has a normal supplier for plants; why ask for a ninja?"
"Probably because it's more dangerous now," Emiko said candidly, ignoring the lock of red hair hanging in front of her face as she worked a cork out of a bottle of red wine. "I don't think her usual supplier feels like wandering out into the desert, what with half the populace being afraid of Sand ninja and the rest just plain being afraid of the desert animals and news that a gigantic sandworm attacked Sand."
"That part's true," he said absently, memorizing the date and time to meet. "I was there."
He only realized he'd said the second part out loud when he looked back over to see Emiko's stricken expression, her dark eyes wide.
"You were there--you fought that thing?" She set the corkscrew and cook down on the bartop. "I thought you were less crazy than the average ninja!"
Makoto shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable. He still didn't like what it said about him, that he'd done that. "Well. I came out fine. Only a cracked rib or two, which I patched up easily enough."
This did not appear to help.
"It really isn't a big deal..." he trailed off, sensing by the look on her face and the tension in her shoulders that perhaps civilians had a different idea of what sorts of injuries were and were not a big deal. "Sorry. I was raised in a...combative family. We learned how to fight fairly young. These sorts of things are normal to me. But really, I did come out of it pretty much the best of anyone."
"This time," she said, eyes flashing. "This time you did! How many times before this have you run into something crazy?"
"I was perfectly prepared each time, which was why I came out of them all fine," he said mildly. "If you're worried I'm going to get overconfident and stop planning before I go into a mission, you don't need to. One of my main principles is to be prepared, to the point people consider me over-prepared. And I try to undershoot reality with my guesses."
Emiko was silent as she poured out wine for a group of women in the corner, beckoned a waitress over to take it to them, and sent her off.
"All right," she said at last. "And...I can't really ask you not to do things, because that's your job. But at least keep being pessimistic, all right? And...maybe be cynical a little more too. These aren't very stable times."
"I know." He cocked his head. "...Do I not seem cynical to you?"
She gave him a slight smile. "No. Not at all."
Huh.
Well, he'd never heard that assessment made of him before.
Wednesday at eleven in the morning he made it to the front of the as-yet-unopen bar to find an elderly woman sitting on one of the wooden benches outside.
"I take it you're Uriko?" he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.
She squinted up at him, albeit not very much. "Hmmm. Mmm. Yes. How well do you know your herbs?"
My family makes poisons and I've always found it fun to sit and watch the process. "Well enough, I expect."
She eyed him skeptically. "We'll see. What part of a rose cactus do you use?"
"Spines, for a muscle relaxant," he answered. He did know a bit about Wind Country's plants, too; ever since they had encountered that fellow with the scorpion cult he'd looked into them. "Although only in small doses."
She hummed. "Wax fruit?"
"The leaves can do a lot of things, but I'd say their anti-inflammatory properties are the best part." He was really glad he had a good memory.
"Rabbit ear cactus?"
"Useless, unless you need to find water."
"Thimble berries?"
His expression twitched as he fought a smile. "Jam."
Uriko nodded, satisfied. "You'll do." She reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper, which she handed to him. "These to me by sunset. My address is there too. You'll be compensated if you're on time."
She declined his help to get up, and toddled off at a surprising speed down the street, apparently heading home. He only watched her go for a moment before reading over the contents of the list and raising an eyebrow.
"All right then," he mumbled. "This...is not just medicine." There were some pretty toxic things on this list, but hey, if she made poison he wasn't going to say anything. Glass houses, after all.
He fetched a basket, then wandered out into the desert in the general direction of where he knew some of the plants on the list to be. For the most part, the woman wanted useful plants that made good medicines or jams or spices, but there were also instructions to pick up some highly toxic midnight blooms, which if he recalled correctly (and he always did) was something he ought to handle quite carefully.
He made it back to town with the entire list filled out long before sunset, which gave him ample time to find the address listed on the note. The elderly herbwoman made 'hmm' noises as she checked everything over before paying him, and he made it to the bar just as the night crowd started coming in.
"I'm sorry for last night," Emiko said as he sat down at the bar. "It's just...I like you, you're a good friend, and I don't deal well with my friends doing crazy things. I should realize you're a lot tougher than you look."
"Don't worry about it," he said amicably. "I spent the day doing something much safer, anyway."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? What was that?"
He stretched and didn't bother to hide his grin. "Picking flowers."