His toes were hovering at the edge of his sandals.

She'd never really looked at his feet before - which was an odd concept in and of itself as they were always dressed in uniform-issue foot wear – but she was staring at them intently now. He was most likely aware of her scrutiny but paid her little mind as he surveyed the crowds. And he was far from worried, almost-slouching with the majority of his weight concentrated on his left leg, hands deep in his pockets in that contrapposto that fit him so well.

She was aware of his gaze sweeping over the crowd, head turning occasionally to peer in a different direction, but she was far below his level of concern. And really, she should be helping him with the watch. They were assigned as an inconspicuous security detail at this carnival. A new daimyou had been inaugurated and the resulting celebration was ripe with ample opportunity for rivals to express their displeasure with the official choice.

But instead she was transfixed by the visage of his feet, dusted with signs of travel and his sporadically flexing toes as he shifted weight holding captive her attention.

Looking down, hers were dirty as well, worn and beat up from constant exposure to the elements and abuse suffered in battle. Ugh, feet were so hideous. She glanced from hers to his.

But, she decided, his weren't all that bad.


Completely random, I know.