Dororo: The Mio Chronicle Ch.3: The Beggar Songstress and the First Warmth

The evening light dyed the torn shoji screens of the hall a deep orange. Hyakkimaru sat at the entrance, checking the condition of his prosthetic arm. The concealed blade had been sliding poorly since yesterday's fight. As he opened and closed it again and again, a dry clack, clack echoed through the cedar grove. "Aniki! Look, look! I caught a huge fish in the river!" Dororo came running back clutching a fish in both hands. Its tail thrashed and slapped her cheek. "Whoa, this guy's still alive and kicking! Pretty amazing, huh? Caught him bare-handed!" Hyakkimaru looked at Dororo and gave a small nod. Beaming, she set the fish on the ground, pulled a stone from the cloth pouch at her hip, and struck the fish's head in a single blow. It went still. "Heh, my stone-throwing works on fish too!" Hyakkimaru moved his prosthetic and pointed at the fish—meaning: nice work. "Oh, you wanna eat too, aniki? Alright, tonight it's grilled fish on skewers! When that big sister gets back, let's ask her to cook it!" With that, Dororo gazed down the road in front of the hall. "Come to think of it, she's sure taking her time. Does begging really take that long?" Hyakkimaru didn't answer. But something gave a small pang deep in his chest. Every day, Mio begged in the village and along the highway—to feed the orphans in this brutal age. Dororo peered up into Hyakkimaru's face. "Aniki, you like that big sister, don't you?" Hyakkimaru glared at her. "Bull's-eye! It's written all over your face! You're so easy to read, aniki!" Hyakkimaru rapped her lightly on the head with his prosthetic. "Ow! Why'd you hit me?! It's the truth, isn't it?!" That was when it happened. Far down the mountain path, a small figure came into view. Long black hair in a braid swaying gently, walking slowly toward them. It was Mio. Dororo sprang to her feet. "She's back! Heeey, big sister!" Dororo waved, and Mio gave a small wave back. Hyakkimaru rose slowly to his feet. Mio's steps were somehow heavy. The cloth bundle on her shoulder was a little fuller than it had been that morning. Even so, her face was utterly worn out. "I'm home. Thank you both for watching the place." The moment Mio reached the hall, the orphans swarmed around her. "Mio! Welcome back!" "What'd you get today?" Mio smiled and opened her bundle. Out came dried rice cakes, a radish split in half, some wilted greens. "Today the village headman of Hotaru no Sato shared a little rice with me. And two onigiri from the teahouse on the highway." The orphans cheered. Hyakkimaru stared hard at Mio's face. She was smiling. But beneath that smile, his spirit-sense picked up something dark, sunk deep. Mio turned toward him. "Hyakkimaru, thank you. You were standing watch for us, weren't you?" Hyakkimaru gave a single nod. Then Mio's gaze stopped on his prosthetic arm. The fingertips. Yesterday's battle had left scratches all over them. The wood was gouged, and a faint rust had bloomed on the iron parts. "...Hyakkimaru, your hand is covered in wounds." Mio gently reached for his prosthetic. Hyakkimaru instinctively tried to pull away. "Don't move. Bear with the pain for a moment." Her fingers touched the surface of the prosthetic. It was warm. Deep in Hyakkimaru's chest, something gave a great throb. The warmth of another person's hand. For the first time in his life, he was being touched this closely, this kindly. Mio tore a strip from the sleeve of her kimono and made a thin cloth. Then she carefully wiped the wounds on the prosthetic. "I have a little medicine with me. I picked the herbs in the mountains on my way back from begging. If I apply this, the wood won't ache so much." She drew a small cloth pouch from her robe. Inside was a paste of crushed green leaves. Hyakkimaru couldn't move. A prosthetic has no sense of pain. It's just wood and iron. And yet, every time Mio's fingers touched it, it felt as though something seeped from there into his whole body. "...This hand is incredibly well made. Every single finger moves so finely." Mio gently bent one of the prosthetic fingers. In her hands, Hyakkimaru's prosthetic trembled faintly. "Whoever made this hand must be an amazing person." The face of Jukai rose in Hyakkimaru's mind. The man who had picked up a baby washed down the river, made him prosthetic limbs, and gave him the name Hyakkimaru. The center of his chest grew slowly warm. Hyakkimaru gently enclosed Mio's hand with his prosthetic. "...Hyakkimaru?" He said nothing. He couldn't. He simply held her hand and gazed steadily into her eyes. Mio's light-brown eyes, lit by the setting sun, glimmered. "...Thank you. Your hand is warm." Hyakkimaru tilted his head. The warm one was Mio's hand. A prosthetic has no body heat. And yet. Mio cupped his prosthetic in both her hands. "It's a wooden hand, but somehow it feels like your heart comes through." Hyakkimaru's breath stopped for an instant. His heart was coming through. Could this girl see his heart? Just then, a small shadow watched the two of them intently from the cover of the trees. It was Dororo. Hidden behind a tree, she was peeking at Hyakkimaru and Mio. Aniki was making that face for someone other than her. Aniki had a soft look in his eyes that he'd never once shown her. Dororo's chest tightened. What is this? Why do I feel like this? That big sister is a good person. She looks after the orphans, she even begs for them. She's far more admirable than I'll ever be. And yet. The fact that the one beside aniki was that big sister, and not her—it felt so horribly, horribly unfair. Dororo bit her lip. "...Tch." Without a sound, she slipped away. The sun sank beyond the mountains. In front of the hall, Mio had begun preparing supper for the orphans. Hyakkimaru sat at the entrance, staring at his prosthetic. The place Mio had touched. He felt as though the warmth still lingered there. "Hyakkimaru, let's eat." Mio sat down beside him with a bowl. Hyakkimaru took the bowl. Inside was a thin rice porridge. "...I'm sorry. This is all I could manage today." Hyakkimaru shook his head. It was enough. He took a sip of the porridge. It was bland. But it was warm. "...Hyakkimaru, will you listen to me for a moment?" Hyakkimaru looked at her. Mio sat with her head lowered, lacing and unlacing her fingers on her knees. "When I beg, people sometimes say cruel things to me. 'Filthy.' 'Get lost.' ...Some even say I could earn far more if I sold my body." Hyakkimaru's prosthetic twitched. Mio laughed, mocking herself. "I'm not even that pretty. But if it's to put food in these children's mouths, I'll do anything. I've already made my peace with selling my body. ...I'm a shameless woman, aren't I?" Deep in Hyakkimaru's chest, something dark and murky flared up. Anger. A quiet, yet fierce anger coursed through his whole body. Hyakkimaru gripped Mio's hand hard with his prosthetic. "...Hyakkimaru? That hurts." Still holding her hand, Hyakkimaru shook his head—hard, hard. No. You are not shameless. Don't ever talk about selling your body. Hyakkimaru's feelings poured straight into Mio's heart as telepathy. Her eyes flew wide. "...Hyakkimaru, are you angry?" He nodded. "But your eyes... you're angry, and yet they're so warm." Mio's voice trembled. "...Why? Why would you make a face like that for someone like me?" Hyakkimaru didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He only tightened his grip on her hand, just a little. Tears spilled from Mio's eyes. "...If I'm not useful to someone, my life has no meaning. If I can't protect those children, I—I..." Hyakkimaru pressed Mio's hand to his own chest. A heartbeat. Beneath the prosthetic, Hyakkimaru's heart pounded, thudding steadily. Mio felt it and caught her breath. "...It's warm." Still holding her hand to his chest, Hyakkimaru nodded slowly. You're alive. You are alive. That alone is enough. Mio pressed her forehead against his chest and wept, stifling the sound. Hyakkimaru didn't move. He simply supported her trembling shoulders gently with his prosthetic. Dororo watched the scene from a distance. Aniki was holding that big sister. It was something she could never do. She was just a brat who made noise beside him, nothing more. Jealousy and longing churned together in Dororo's chest, a tangled mess. But strangely, it wasn't only a bad feeling. That big sister was showing aniki something Dororo didn't have. Someday, she wanted to make aniki wear that face too. Dororo clenched her fists tight. Night fell. The orphans drifted off to sleep, and the hall grew quiet. Hyakkimaru kept watch at the entrance, his sword in his arms. Mio lay beside the orphans, exhausted, fast asleep. Dororo sat next to Hyakkimaru, sullen and silent. "...Aniki, I saw that earlier." Hyakkimaru looked at her. "What were you doing with that big sister? Hugging her, all lovey-dovey." Hyakkimaru tilted his head. "Don't play dumb! I saw it all, you know! And you, of all people, putting on the smooth-talking lady-killer act!" Hyakkimaru rapped her lightly on the head with his prosthetic. "Ow! I keep telling you to stop hitting me!" Rubbing her head, Dororo glared at him. "...Hey, aniki. Are you serious about that big sister?" Hyakkimaru didn't answer. But that silence was the answer. Dororo sighed. "...I see. Well, she is a good person. I don't hate her either." Hyakkimaru laid his prosthetic on Dororo's head. "...What?" He gently stroked her head. Dororo froze for a moment. Then, embarrassed, she turned her face away. "...Cut it out, that tickles." That was when it happened. From far off came the sound of horses' hooves. Hyakkimaru was on his feet instantly. "Aniki?" He glanced back at Mio and the orphans inside the hall. Still asleep. Hyakkimaru put his hand to his sword. The hoofbeats drew closer. Not one set. Five. Six. Then torchlight split the darkness of the night. They were samurai. The man at the head wore fine armor and carried a long sword at his hip. Gorouza. A samurai in Kagekage's service. Five samurai followed behind him. They halted their horses before the hall. Gorouza looked down at the hall from horseback. "You there, inside the hall. Come out." Hyakkimaru stood at the entrance and glared at the samurai. Gorouza's eyes caught him. "Ho. So this is the brat who glared back at a samurai. My men had a hard time of it yesterday." Hyakkimaru didn't answer. Gorouza urged his horse forward, closing in on him. "Orders from the lord. Hand over this land. And the orphans are to be surrendered to the castle." Then Mio came out from inside the hall. "...What business do you have here? I am the one who protects these children." Her voice shook, but her feet, planted before the samurai, were firm on the ground. Gorouza eyed her with contempt. "So you're the one who looks after this hall. The lord has designated this land a place of demon-sealing. The orphans will be taken into the castle as human pillars for the rite. It is decided." The blood drained from Mio's face. "...Human pillars?" "That is no concern of yours. Hand them over quietly. Resist, and I'll burn this hall to the ground with you in it." Just then, the village headman, Tetsuzou, came running up with the villagers. "Please wait! We are the ones who care for these children. There is no reason to surrender them!" Tetsuzou bowed deeply before Gorouza. Gorouza looked down at him coldly. "Silence, old man. This is the lord's command. Defy it, and I'll burn your village too." Tetsuzou's face twisted with fear. A murmur spread among the villagers. "Headman, what do we do?" "If we defy Lord Kagekage, he really will burn us out." Tetsuzou bit his lip. Then it happened. "I will not leave this place." Mio stepped forward. "I cannot abandon these children. Even if it is the lord's command, I ha

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Dororo: The Mio Chronicle Episode 3: The Beggar Songstress and the First Warmth