"Ronin..."

The hissed word made its way along the small group travelling in an informal caravan, and the travellers all stopped. A few were wandering merchants, plying their trade where they went, others were messengers or couriers, three of them were lower-caste warriors acting as bodyguards for the merchants. All of them, however, stared with open disdain at the ronin approaching them. He was a tall man, rather unkempt, his long hair gathered on top of his head, his face and his clothes showing the signs of hard living. In his obi rested two swords, a striking contrast to the rest of his disheveled appearance, for the sayas were immaculately cared for.

The group watched the man approach, and saw he was pushing a small cart. Sitting in the cart was a boy, perhaps three years of age, grinning and waving happily at the caravan, and attached to the cart was a flag.

"Son for hire. Sword for hire."

"A common mercenary," spat one of the guards, resting his hand on his own sword. The approaching ronin gave no sign that he'd heard, and continued to make his way toward the group.

In an extremely rude gesture of contempt, all of the caravan members deliberately moved aside, as though trying not to be fouled by his proximity.

All but one.

"Good afternoon, samurai-san."

The ronin stopped at the soft female voice that came from beneath the low-slung basket hat that hid most of her face. His eyes moved over the slender form from the top of her hat to the sandals on her feet, then came to rest on the swords she wore in her obi.

"My lady!" one of the merchants said in shock. "He is ronin!"

The woman turned around and lifted the rim of her hat enough to glare at the merchant.

"Wrong - no ronin would care for his swords like that."

The merchant subsided, but it was clear that he still considered the man beneath him.

The woman turned back to the samurai and studied his flag for a moment.

"Your son is for hire. Your sword is for hire. What about you?"

"What about me?" His voice was rough, but quiet and firm.

"Are you for hire?"

"That depends what for."

The guards all hissed and reached for their weapons, but a word from the woman froze them in place.

"HOLD!"

She turned her head to them angrily. "If you cannot control your behaviour, continue on. I will find other, more well-mannered companions."

"It is not right for a woman to travel alone!" one of the messengers protested, but as her hand rested on her sword, the group bowed hurriedly to her and quickly set off again.

As they left, however, both samurai heard "Ronin scum..." drift back toward them.

"I regret any distress that they might have caused you," she said at last once they had gone.

He nodded in response to the obvious sincerity of her apology.

"You didn't answer my question, though," he said, leaning against the cart while the boy watched birds fly by overhead. "What do you want with me?"

She reached into her obi and drew forth a handful of coins, enough for food and lodging for the next several days, and held it out to him. "An hour of your time."

His eyes went from what he could see of her face to the coins and back again. "If it's companionship you want, try one of the cities."

To his surprise, he saw a faint blush touch her cheeks, and then she chuckled. "N-no, no, not that. I would hear a story, samurai-san. I collect them."

"You'd pay me that much for me to tell you a story?"

She nodded and waited patiently, her hand still extended holding the coins.

"Take off your hat," he said finally.

At that, she hesitated, and he shrugged. "Fine then. Farewell."

"Wait."

With a sigh, she reached up and used her free hand to remove her hat, revealing long white hair that had been braided around her head, a striking face, and compelling dark blue eyes. For a moment she stared at him defiantly, then she stepped off the road to sit beneath a shady tree, waiting to see what he would do.

His eyes narrowed, then he pushed the cart off the road and took the child out so he could play in the grass.

"You take a great risk with a ronin, my lady," he said, his voice still quiet as he leaned against the tree and stared at her.

"We both know you are no more ronin than I am," she replied, her eyes going to his swords. "Who else would carry a dotanuki?"

The man seemed to tense for a moment, but she only gazed at him quietly, her hands in her lap and her eyes on his face, waiting for her story.

"Is there a particular type of story you are searching for?" the ronin asked at length, but the woman shook her head.

"It is not for me to say where enlightenment might come from."

The man's eyes seemed to spark with sudden interest. "On a musha shugyo, are you?"

She nodded, then she sat back and waited quietly.

For a short while, the two sat in silence, and then the man began. Over the next hour, he told her tale after tale, some he'd thought long-forgotten from his own childhood, others that he'd heard during his years on the road. Ancient legends, heroic poems, even the occasional ribald parable - if he could remember it and tell it with any style, he told it to her. She was the perfect audience, listening attentively as though burning his words into her memory to consider them again later in her search for understanding.

After an hour, she rose and bowed to him in thanks. "I cannot thank you enough, samurai-san. You have given me much to ponder along my travels." Once again, she drew forth the coins and offered them to him. "Please, accept this as payment for your time and for your knowledge."

The ronin looked over at his child and gestured, who toddled over to the woman and held up his hands. Grinning, she solemnly gave the child the money, and the boy bowed to her. Against her will, she chuckled aloud.

"You'll do well, my little courtier. You'll do well, indeed." She bowed in return to the child, who giggled and clambered back into his cart, then she bowed once more to the ronin before setting her hat back on her head and preparing to leave.

"Before you go, one question, my lady."

His words stopped her and she turned back to face him.

"Yes?"

"I would ask a poem from you. Something for me to ponder along my travels."

Dark blue eyes narrowed, but she sat down once again, opened her pack, and drew forth a sheet of rice paper, an inkstone and a brush.

For several minutes, she sat in silence, meditating, then with great deliberation, she inked a poem onto the page. Sprinkling sand on it to dry it, she then handed it to the ronin with ceremony, who accepted it with equal formality.

"Good luck upon your travels, samurai-san," she murmured.

"And to you, my lady."

He waited until she was out of sight before unrolling the scroll to read it.

"words fall like sunlight
crane, wolf, cub, joined in a tale
how will it all end"

Slowly, he smiled, then tucked the scroll inside his obi, and began to push the cart along the road once more.