A Little Maid

"Hmm... Where is this? Water... Water..." Shinnō weakly tried to open his eyes, murmuring in a hazy daze.

" Ah, Lord Shinnō, you're awake! Wait, I'll fetch water right away."

Faintly, Shinnō heard a tense, crisp, and pleasant voice beside him.

Moments later, he felt himself gently lifted from behind and settled into a small, delicate embrace; a faint cherry-blossom scent drifted into his nose, easing his mind.

A cup of clear water was brought to his lips. Shinnō paid no mind to who was serving him and gulped it down in two swallows, finally soothing his throat.

" I'll pour you another cup, my lord."

Shinnō felt himself laid back down; the person behind him hurried off with quick footsteps, soon returning with another cup. This cycle repeated three times before it stopped.

Lying down again, he carefully assessed his body. The stab wound beside his heart had been bandaged, all other cuts treated, and the smaller ones already scabbed—clearly handled by medical ninjutsu.

In the final clash with the Hyuga jōnin, Shinnō had gambled everything. The instant the blade was about to pierce him, he forced his heart aside so the strike missed, then finished the enemy with Rasengan. The slightest hesitation or mistake would have left him dead.

In a daze, a pair of cool little hands pressed against his temples and gently rubbed; their owner was clearly being careful not to wake him.

Before long, Shinnō slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a delicate face—refined features, long and silky hair carrying a faint cherry-blossom scent. The hands were massaging his head; she looked about his age, dressed in a pink kimono that gave a soothing impression.

" Who are you?" Shinnō asked, voice hoarse enough to startle himself.

Seeing him awake, the girl's eyes lit with obvious joy. She quickly set his head on the pillow, ran to the side, and knelt properly. "Lord Shinnō, my name is Chiyo Hotaru. The clan head sent me to be your maid."

" Maid?" Shinnō turned to study her closely until a blush crept across her face and she lowered her head.

" Not bad. You'll do fine following me from now on. Has Uncle returned yet?" Shinnō spoke softly. Though young, she showed promise of beauty; keeping her as an attendant wouldn't be bad—most people wouldn't refuse such service.

Joy flashed across Chiyo Hotaru's face. "Yes, the clan head returned yesterday."

Shinnō nodded slightly. "How many days was I unconscious?"

" Counting today, three days in total, Lord Shinnō."

" What about Uchiha Madara? How is he?"

" Young Master Madara's injuries were slightly lighter than yours. He's recovering in his room and already out of danger."

A faint smile tugged at Shinnō's lips. He noticed she called Madara "young master" but addressed him as "lord," revealing that in her eyes his status ranked higher.

" Since Uncle is back, what's the situation on the battlefield?" Shinnō asked after a moment's thought.

" This servant wouldn't know. Matters of the battlefield are beyond us maids."

Shinnō nodded and asked her several more questions, most of which she couldn't answer when they concerned clan shinobi.

Shinnō could guess why his uncle had suddenly assigned him a young maid: news of his awakening the Three-Tomoe Sharingan and defeating a jōnin had reached the clan head's ears, and the maid was both recognition of his strength and his standing.

In his uncle's eyes, he was no longer a child needing protection but a Uchiha shinobi capable of standing on his own. Another implication was that once recovered he would finally receive missions as a proper shinobi—possibly even the battlefield, though Shinnō doubted that; he was still too young and the front too dangerous. Given the talent he had shown, unless his uncle had gone mad or the Uchiha faced extinction, he would not be sent there.

After these thoughts, Shinnō began asking the little maid personal questions.

" Hotaru, how old are you?"

" Six."

" A year older than me—didn't notice. What about your parents?"

" I don't know. I never met them. As far back as I remember I lived among refugees, worrying about food every day. At three I caught a high fever and was abandoned. Luckily, clan shinobi found me. I've lived in the clan ever since, trained as a maid."

Chiyo Hotaru spoke flatly, as though the story belonged to someone else.

Shinnō frowned, wanting to say something, but stayed silent. In the Warring States era such tragedies were commonplace—cruel bandits everywhere, great nations at war, shinobi clans in chaos. Countless people starved daily; scorched earth was no exaggeration. Being picked up by the Uchiha had been good fortune for her.

The Uchiha actually had many such people, both men and women. The men farmed to supply grain—after all, you couldn't expect a band of killers to till fields. The women handled lighter tasks like weaving hemp cloth; the prettier ones were sometimes taken as wives by shinobi. As long as the husband was Uchiha, the next generation would inherit the bloodline; the wife's origin didn't matter. Whether they awakened the Sharingan was another matter.

" Hotaru, come massage my head."

" Yes!" She rose at once, gently lifted Shinnō's head onto her lap, and began kneading with soft hands.

" Hotaru, you said you don't know who your parents are, so why the surname Chiyo?" Shinnō asked casually, eyes closed.

Her hands paused briefly, then resumed. "Chiyo was the surname of the person who took me in. Since I have no parents, I took his."

" Where is he now?"

" When I was three and caught the fever, he was the first to abandon me!"

Though her tone stayed calm, Shinnō felt her hands press a little harder. He chuckled lightly. "Is that so? How about taking my surname—Uchiha?"

Her hands stiffened. She forced a smile. "Lord Shinnō, you're joking."

Shinnō met her eyes seriously. "I'm not."

Chiyo Hotaru fell silent, yet Shinnō could feel her touch grow lighter and far more comfortable.