The warrior knelt beside Ajairu, delicately examining the pokemon's favored leg. Her eyes were soft, but narrowed in concentration as she slowly lifted and manipulated the horse's leg, working it upwards, then back, then bending it slo- Ajairu hopped softly, even in its injured state he was deft enough to lift himself out of Hanabi's hands and to the other end of the stall. He landed hard, his hooves imprinting deeply upon the dirt of the stable floor, and its mane flared brightly for a moment only to fade back to calmness. He whinnied and lowered his head, taking another limping step. Hanabi offered a smile and outstretched her hands, wiggling her fingers in a placating manner as if showing the Pokemon she was, in fact, unarmeed. Then she rushed forward at the ponyta, suddenly lunging upwards and hugging it around the neck- her arms passing harmlessly through the fire of its mane- as she laughed...grunted...and lifted the ponyta up onto its hind legs, taking the weight of its body off the injured foreleg. "Attaboy..." She urged gently, dancing in a slow circle with the creature. "Let me take a look at it now, yeah? This is just like we practiced. Dance with me." And so they did, dancing in a slow circle; Hanabi upon her knees, bracing the Ponyta upwards, and Ajairu prancing lightly on his rear hooves to keep his balance as Hanabi studied the deep wound trailing along the Pokemon's flank. Her eyes narrowed again, memory flashing through her mind... [i]The beam slicing through earth and air, raking across Ajairu. The flash of worry- no, the flash of anger! How it flared in her mind! How it broiled from within, bubbling like a- The Volcano! Home! Memories so far away and so long ago! How the smoke rose! How the heat seared her flesh as she gazed down! Her father! Her brother! Ajairu- The Persian, malice and cruelty radiating from its eyes. Blood soaking its fur. The anger held in check. The Volcano could not erupt. Could never erupt. Could never be unsealed. Her body went cold. When her blade moved, it was not driven by emotion. When the Persian's head fell, she could not even let emotion in then; the deed had been done with simple purpose. It was the Samurai way. The Volcano remained sealed. As it must. As it always must.[/i] "A potion will suffice for that- or, perhaps, a bit of rest and some apples-" she laughed as Ajairu's excitement grew and she was forced to rise up and release the pokemon from their embrace. She produced one of the favored treats from her saddlebag nearby and idly dusted it off in her hands. "We're running low, before long I'll need to place an order for more." Ajairu snorted as Hanabi tossed the apple back and forth in her hands, teasing him with its distance from his mouth. Finally he stamped- then whinnied in pain- only for Hanabi to finally close the distance and softly cup Ajairu's head beneath the chin with one hand, her other holding the apple above the Ponyta's mane. "Patience." She said softly. "Temperance, too. You showed much Courage today; and I'll never question your Loyalty. Never." She whispered the final word as the apple warmed in her hand. This always amazed her; the Ponyta's flames had never burned her, never so much as rendered her uncomfortable, but it could bake this apple even as she held it. Soon she had to toss it again to cool her palm, the apple smoking in the air lightly, and finally she released Ajairu's head and allowed the pokemon to snatch the baked apple in its mouth. Two loud crunches later, and the ponyta was chewing away happily as it relaxed in place. "Rest well, friend." [hr] The day had passed...uneventfully. The morning's climax had burned into a quiet denouement and eventual calmness. Lady Hanabi's day had progressed as they often did. Patrol. Training. Sparring. Archery. Archery was always the highlight of her day; a time where she could practice the ancient Hanabi clan art of the bow in peace and without shame. Archery practice was a time when she felt closer to her ancestors, but it always ended with a deep meditation; closer to her ancestors meant closer to the Volcano. Closer to the spark of Rebellion she felt from the shadow'd memory of her Father. From the dishonored scar that is her Brother. From the omnipresent image of the Shogun. It was a time of reflection and for the endless test of the Samurai Way. As she rose from her meditations on this day, an origami [i]Hoothoot[/i] stood watching her from the door to her chambers. Had her meditation been so deep she hadn't heard the disturbance, or was this something else? The thought calmed her wandering thoughts with the chill certainty of the present as she picked up the excellent work of craftsmanship. Lettering along the owl's cheeks caught her eye, and thus she unravelled the creature. The words within further cemented that Certainty of Now. The words within instilled within her the Certainty of Purpose. [hr] Sunset was a sacred time to the Hanabi. Fire kissing the earth, the ending of a day, the coolness of night, the certainty that the sun will rise again tomorrow. Today, with how her thoughts had wandered and introspection had haunted her, the sunset was significant to Yasashi. She had doffed her armor, and though she still carried her [i]Daisho[/i] and Longbow on her, her attire was lighter and more comfortable; her Hakama, once again a subdued attire bearing the colors of the Shogunate, of archery practice. It was a formal attire, but comfortable and meant for ritual and activity. Clothing meant for function and form alike. Her hair, however, bears that subtle Hanabi Clan influence; it was tied in a loose braid that kept the wildness of her hair tamed- but the hairpin that tied it together was the orange flower of Clan Hanabi. As with her armor, she kept her family close but quiet while wearing the Shogun's colors proudly and openly. She clasped her hands together and bowed towards the sunset, her eyes closing in quiet prayer. Thusly she awaited those she suspected would be arriving soon.