Disclaimer: Ruroken isn't mine. Sorry.

The redhead stood over the washtub washing her clothes. He was careful, fighting stubborn stains, up to his elbows in water. The cold air bit into his skin, but the water was warm…

Swish. Splash.

All mechanical. No thinking involved. It cleared his mind.

He was finally done. Her clothes were removed, and he stood stiffly, staring a moment into the ruddy water before turning his aching body toward the small house where she lay. He breathed a small sigh of relief. At least he could no longer smell the blood…

He only wanted to remember her as white plums…

Dewa mata!