A/N: Last part of our first impression of Shimon's and Mayura's first meeting. Let's see if it ends in catastrophe. *evil laughter* Or not. *wink*

Embers flew from the twisting stick.

Mayura blinked her eyes in surprise. In the next instant she rolled the stick with much more vigor between the palms of her hands.

So far Mayura had learned two things: First of all, a fire is damn hard to make. Second, if an action of a story was told, it probably was never the accurate time it actually takes. While the scene had taken only a while, lightening the fire had taken almost the rest of the day. The sun stood low by now and Mayura blew on the little flame that slowly consumed the straw and hugged the much more drier twigs. She hoped this time it would cause them to burn. The last three attempts had been futile. And she had to go grab new straw to try it again, which hadn't been easy thanks to the shower of rain today. Her knees hurt. Her hands hurt more; having bled from so many cuts and grazes. Very early on her task, she had ripped off the bandage that Jinya-sama had bound around her hand where she had hammered splinters into it. It was no comparison to the cuts and rubbed of skin that were covering her hands now. Especially on the hand that had been wrapped into the wet clothing making it sensitive to the exposure and easy for the friction to pull off skin. Nevertheless Mayura had not given up. She wanted to prove to herself and the stranger uphill that she was able to do this. Never would she give him the satisfaction of seeing that she couldn't do it, that she was worthless. Never would she give evidence to the small voice in her head, calling herself useless. Never.

This time it had to work. Commanding the fire to burn, she stared at the little flames until they spread over the twig onto another. Was it truly working now? Had she managed to make a fire?

She stared a while longer until she heard a crackle of the fire, bursting one of the twigs as it's blackened skin cracked open.

Mayura blinked in wonder. Did this mean - ?

Her lips twitched upwards as she watched the flame grow faster and faster by each blink of an eye. She did it! The Crystal be praised! She had managed to make fire!

A high pitched giggle shook her body. Satisfied and giddily by the joy of her accomplishment she sat and stared as the force of nature ate away old and cast off twigs. Mayura gave it more to feed adding more of the collected wood to the flames. A dark screen of smoke rose from the fire and enveloped her. Coughing she crawled out of the wind direction. She blinked her slightly burning eyes until they stopped to produce tears and continued to watch the fire consume the wood.

She had no idea how long she had stared at the fruits of her work but the sun almost kissed the horizon. And all the while blue eyed, red haired fish catching soldier of Tsuchimikado with a deadly blade had not returned. What was taking him so long? Had he pulled a trick on her? Did he actually have a boat and was now returning to his homeland or Crystal Island?

The later one seemed unlikely, given the fact, that he had been wet from head to toe similar to her. Yet, the silence and tranquility around her, made her feel lonely and insecure. There was no sound except for the cracking of the fire in front of her and the rush of the waves behind her. She wouldn't have thought silence could be such a scary thing. She never had experienced this kind of silence. At the estate there always had been a lot of people. Here on this island there was no one. She wouldn't admit it out loud but she would be glad for the company of the soldier. Even if she did not know if she could trust him, it would be better than having to deal with this dead silence. Coldness showered over her and made the hair on her arms rise. She was getting restless moment by moment.

With a sigh she decided, that she should not wait. Even if she was hungry, it would not accelerate the speed of his reappearance. But what could she do?

Her gaze fell to her hands being folded onto her knees. They were bloody and dirtied with soil and parts of the twigs. She should wash them, but with the upcoming darkness she did not wish to enter the darkened woods in front of her. Instead she rose to her feet and walked a few feet to the sea. Kneeling down in front of the wet sand where the water did not reach she held out her hands and waited for the water to wash over them.

It came fast. When it hit her hands, Mayura hissed in pain. It burned. It burned so much. Tears were rising to her eyes. She hadn't thought it would feel like this. Her lips quivered but she did not pull her hands away but hold her breath and bit her lips. She waited for the water to wash over her hands a few more times. The more often it did the less it burned and after five or six times, her hands looked much cleaner. They throbbed in a numbed pain when she was done.

She pulled them away from the water and looked up. The sun painted the sea and the sky in beautiful colors. A pinkish orange. It made her remember the times she would watch the sun fall beneath the hill of the Amawaka estate, sometimes together with her mother or Rokuro but most of the times alone, dreaming of the world behind the horizon. How silly had she been. How ungrateful for the things she had, for the carefree life she'd lived.

Her throat started to convulse. She thought about her journey, thought about the things she'd done and that were done to her. How she had been stepped on, robbed. How she had sold the one thing that connected her to home. How she had been pushed around, robbed again and thrown off a ship to die. And then all dams loosened and she cried loudly. She wheeled into the silence until her throat made no sound again. And then she silently wept. She wondered if this world was even worth saving. She wondered, if the people in it did deserve the fate they seemed to love so much to follow that they forgot kindness and compassion. She continued to cry and sob until her throat and stomach hurt, until the corners of her mouth felt numb and her eyes burnt as much as her hands did.

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Where was the blonde girl?

Shimon had found the fire she'd made after what seemed to be half of an eternity of walking straight towards the lowering sun, which was blinding him and shielding the sight of the fire. It had taken him longer to catch a satisfying amount of fishes than he'd anticipated. At least he had five fishes which were pierced by the sticks he was carrying. But when he'd finally arrived at the fireplace the girl with the deep blue eyes – Mayura, Mayura was she called, same as the Narukami princess – was nowhere to be seen.

He'd opted to search for her. But chose against it. It was already late, so instead of searching he'd started grilling the fishes, plunging the sticks into the ground next to the fire. Perhaps the girl had personal businesses to attend to. Also he was sure, she'd come back. The fire she'd made was proof to that. She wouldn't abandon it. Even if she was scared of him or wanted to kill him. Well, later one would certainly be another reason to return. Although he hoped it wasn't the case but after seeing that she'd purloined his dagger, it was an option. He was surprised at first, suspicious at second and understanding at last, when he'd returned to his mostly dried clothing. She also had the chance to steal his katana. But she didn't. Either she thought he wouldn't notice the theft – which he didn't believe in given her obvious wit in their earlier conversations – or she wanted to have some leverage against an armored warrior.

He understood the reasoning. Even if he had been friendly it was wise to have a weapon against a warrior from the enemy county. Shimon would need to show her, that he truly meant no harm. On the contrary. He meant, what he'd said. Their chances for survival would be higher, if they worked together. Yet, he had no idea how he would show her that he was trustworthy.

As he was thinking about her, he recalled their earlier encounter. She had made him feel like scum when he had undressed. It wasn't his favorite thing to do but necessary. He had had no choice. But when he did, she'd yelled at him to leave his trousers on, as if she'd never seen an undressed man. Surely she had to had wash the back of her master, hadn't she? Why was she reacting like this?

Leaning towards the fire he grabbed the stick in front of him above the sand and twisted it. The skin of the the fish was roasted into a shiny gold and cracked open where he'd scratched it by accident when he'd scaled the fishes. Another process that had taken him longer than he would have expected. The truth of nature could only be learned by living and not by stories.

He twisted the other sticks as well and watched the angry flames dancing. She'd done it well. The fire burned strong and from the pile of wood she'd stacked up. Yet, they would need more wood to make sure the fire would burn longer. Sadly, he had no idea how much wood they would need to make it last until the sun rose again or if that was even possible.

Quickly Shimon stood up and went to nearest section of the wood. Bushes guarded the entrance and he squeezed himself through the thicket to a line of trees. He collected all the twigs he could find on the ground in front of them. They were still wet from the storm today but the fire wouldn't be put out by them, that he was sure of.

He walked back to the fire and saw a silhouette crossing the beach. The sight was blocked by a sand dune and he could see the figure only from the waist upwards but he was sure it was the girl. Finally.

Shimon threw the wood into the fire. Then all hell broke loose. The noise of small explosions pierced his ears and dark smoke surrounded the fireplace where the flames ran havoc. Shimon jumped away from the fire, surprised at its behavior. Another thing he had not known before.

The Narukami girl came with a quicker pace to the fireside and looked at him in shock. "What did you do?"

"Adding wood to the fire," Shimon replied and noticed that the sticks with the fishes started burning. Without thinking he grabbed one stick and pulled it out of the sand, only to drop it quickly when pain shot from his hand to his arm. He heard a shocked gasp and clenched his teeth at the same time. Jerking his head downwards, he looked at the red stain on his hand.

He skipped his eyes to the girl who gave him a flabbergasted look. Something stroke him as odd about her face but he had no time to dwell on this. He looked at the other burning sticks with the blackened fishes.

Grabbing a corner of his cloak with his other hand he grabbed for the sticks again and patted the sticks with the cloaked hand to stop the fire from destroying their meal, before he plunged the sticks farther away from the fire.

Bitterly he thought, that he had effectively ruined the last meal they would have today. The fishes hadn't much eatable flesh on them now. It was all his fault. He should have waited until they were finished before adding wood to the fire. Yet, he'd never seen fire to react like this before. Every time a servant added wood to the fire at home it would grow more vivid but not like this.

Defeated he looked at the girl again who stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "I'm," he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I haven't thought it would cause this."

"Obviously," she said. And stared at him with furrowed eyebrows. Her eyes and face looked different from when they met. He still couldn't place what had changed. Moreover he felt uncomfortably small under her gaze and lowered his eyes.

Why though? He was a prince. She was a simple maid. Yet, that knowledge wouldn't fill neither his nor her stomach. That was very likely the reason why. He swallowed hardly on a bitter lump of guilt.

Hearing her sigh, he glanced into her direction again and saw her picking up a stick and walking a few feet away from the fire.

So much about gaining her trust.

With a sigh of his own he followed her example and took one of the sticks with the burned fish. The outer parts tasted like coal, within the fish was dry. It was food anyway.

For the rest of the meal Shimon and the maid exchanged no word. After both of them ate their two fished, Shimon threw the last one that had fallen into the sand into the fire. Luckily it reacted only half as furious. If it wouldn't feed them at least it would feed the fire.

Afterwards he gazed at the girl again while he returned to his spot in front of the fire. He watched her while she stubbornly looked away. He studied her face, trying to find out what had seemed odd about it earlier. His eyes skimmed over her features.

She was pretty indeed. Her big blue eyes draw one's gaze to them. Her nose was petite, her eyebrows delicate. Her lips looked soft. Her hair, which had been darkened when he'd first saw her, was dry now, showing off a blonde fading into green. It was messily framing her face but the wild look did nothing to tarnish her prettiness. While his eyes ran over her face in an insolent manner, he came to notice the changes. Her eyes were red-rimmed and looked a bit puffed, her cheeks were slightly swollen. Had she been crying?

Curious he wanted to ask but held himself back. He had faced the extent of her pride earlier and after what he'd done to their food, he should be more careful about what to say to her.

"You're staring," she said all of a sudden without looking at him.

"Yes," he replied.

"Stop it," she said in a peremptory tone.

Surely, the Narukami girl was different than the maids he knew. With a nod, she didn't see he turned around. And did not look at her again until he laid down to sleep. She still sat a few feet behind him.

Did she want to stay up until he slept? Did she find him such a threat? Or did she, perhaps, want to kill him in cold blooded murder in his sleep? Was she perhaps the daughter of a soldier or the wife of one? Had his soldiers given her a reason to seek revenge? She had taken his dagger instead of his katana, yes, but her actions made her suspicious.

And so Shimon chose to stay awake for a bit, sharpen his ears and wait for what will happen.

Much more later he heard her shuffle. A few moments passed when he felt safe to turn around and look at her. She lay where she sat. A few feet behind him and away from the fire. Hoping she wasn't using a similar strategy and really asleep he chose to catch some sleep himself. May the Crystal decide his fate.

It was deep in the night with the moon standing high when something stirred him to wake up. Irritated and drowsy he rose his upper body. The fire had grown smaller but was still burning. His eyes fell to the figure a few feet away from him, when a moan startled him. Surprised he focused his eyes onto the the sleeping girl but she did not move. He wanted to lay down again when he heard her again. This time it was more like a whimper. With a sigh he stood up and walked towards her.

When he was closer he saw that her whole body shivered. Her face was contorted as if she was in pain.

He bend down and reached out. Carefully he touched her coat. It was still damp and icy.

That fool. She'd catch her death like this.

Taking off his coat he draped it over her body, carefully as not to wake her. Though it was warm from the fire and his body heat, it wouldn't warm her throughout her damp and cold clothing.

He frowned when he stood up. Putting a hand on his hips he watched her. Her expression had softened slightly but she was still shivering.

He sighed again and then he walked towards the woods once more on this day to collect more firewood. Maybe enough to make the fire high enough so that it warmth would reach her.

On his way something came to his mind that Seigen-dono had told him once. Shimon had no idea why he was thinking about it now but he remembered it as clearly as the day Seigen-dono said it to him, the day Shimon's mother died and his father refused to visit her on her death bed: Pride is the death of love.

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A/N: And that's it again! Thank you for reading. Hope you liked it and that there were some surprising things. Leave me a comment if you liked it and if you didn't. Nobody is perfect and I hope to learn from my mistakes. :P