Someday

"You heal fast, don't you?" Kazuki smiled as he examined Yoshiro's wounds. Most of the man's injuries were healed, and his skin looked healthy once again.

Yoshiro lowered his head a bit, “I only sleep and eat here. There wasn’t much work to do.”

“I’d be horrified if you had work to do here—" He paused. He liked not having to remember that Yoshiro was his enemy, after all. Before the man could say anything to him, he hit the man's back with his palm.

Yoshiro gasped and turned towards him with a frown, “You!”

He laughed, “That is a Southern custom for doctors…or healers, whatever you want to call men like me. We slap the back of our patients and if we receive a scowl, the patient is fully healed, but if we receive a cry in response, the patient isn’t fully healed at all.”

It was a lie. He felt Yoshiro plotting something, and he wanted to keep their relationship now as a doctor and patient, not enemies and soldiers. Yoshiro did not know that it wasn’t a custom, but he nevertheless believed. He knew the Southerners had strange customs, too different from his country's. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Yoshiro rolled his eyes, “What now?”

“Just as promised: after you heal, I let you go. I give you back your things and give you a horse for your journey home.” He smiled at him, "You have a long journey ahead of you. Rest well."

"This way."

Yoshiro followed him. They hid behind, between, and even inside tents. He kept following him; it seemed like it has been an hour since he did. Still, he could not believe it. Kazuki, the South's Second-born Prince, led the way for him out of the camp. He finally believed Kazuki when he said he was his patient and nothing else. They both knew how to end this war. He knew Kazuki knew this. Capturing and presenting him as an offering to the gods was the answer. Instead, he was leading him out of his camp and away from his brother.

"Hey, we're almost out of the camp. Just a little more."

Kazuki stepped out but immediately retracted his steps. He peered over to see what made Kazuki tick, but the man wouldn't let him.

"We'll go the other way. We'll get out of here faster."

He looked over his shoulder and saw the camp fade into the distance. He turned to Kazuki, "Why did we change direction? Did you see someone?"

To which, Kazuki replied, "You seem to have an idea of what happened. Let's just...not discuss it, okay?"

He didn't press him any longer. They remained silent for the majority of their journey. They kept walking until they found themselves at the foot of a small, red bridge.

“This...is where we part." Kazuki smiled, "Cross the bridge and continue walking until you find a hill. That’s where some of your scouts have built a base. They should have sent scouts all over the forest to look for you so along the way, you may meet them and be escorted to safety.”

He nodded. He took a step forward. He stopped himself from taking another. He turned to him, "Did you...really have to walk me all the way here?"

Instead, the man warned him, "If you cross that bridge, the next time we shall meet, we shall be enemies again."

He changed so quickly, he thought, but I still haven't paid him.

"And if you turn your back to me, you cannot turn around anymore...or I will take that as an offense and strike upon you."

His body refused to move. He wanted to pay him—anything—just to clean his debt off. His desperation produced a faint memory: a tradition from his country, the giving of hair between lovers. Without anything else to give, he settled on that. He stepped closer to Kazuki. The man looked at him with a blank expression. His smile and welcoming aura were already gone.

He undid his black hair and collected the whole length of it on his shoulder. He found it amusing when Kazuki's stoic expression turned into confusion. The man's eyebrows furrowed while all of his attention remained on him.

He remained silent to gather his confidence. He gulped, "Back in my country, we have a tradition of giving hair."

"Ah, I've heard of that tradition but I'm not interested in your hair. Besides, it's unhygienic---"

"Hair has great importance in my country. Hair signifies life and fertility and beauty and love and memories. Hair is holy, holier than statues of gods. Hair is expensive, oftentimes more expensive than jewelry and treasures. Hair is only given to lovers, especially to those who part ways. Through hair, the lovers are still connected despite the distance. "

He blushed as he realized how all he has said would sound to Kazuki so before the man could comment, he quickly adds, "O-Or anyone you are deeply indebted to."

"Didn't I tell you, you did not have to repay—"

"Northerners always repay their debts on time."

Kazuki frowned, "I never set a deadline—"

"But I cannot leave without paying you. So, please, please receive my hair."

The man must've realized he was not going to take no for an answered. Kazuki conceded, "Alright, I will."

He smiled and quickly braided his hair into three strands. He tied both the starts and the ends of his braid and unsheathed a knife.

To his surprise, Kazuki was not alarmed by the sight of the blade. He gave the knife to the man, the point towards himself. Kazuki accepted it and held the knife.

"Turn around."

He did as he was told.

"How long should I take?"

"As long as you want."

"Very well, I shall take a little of it so you can still have something to give to your lover in respect to your traditions."

Before Kazuki could cut his hair, he scoffed, "I don't have a lover so you can take it all. No, take it all. I am your enemy, but you have healed and given me many gifts. You deserve all of it."

The man laughed uneasily, "Do Northerners really have this tradition?"

"Yes."

He sighed: "Very well."

He felt his head become lighter and realized why. He tried to turn around to see the man's expression but remembered Kazuki's words. Instead, he takes a step forward, dragging his feet along.

His body hesitated again. It was as if he waited for something---a word, an event to happen before he'd move. He finally remembered the last part of the hair-giving tradition: the farewell words. He cleared his throat, "The next time we meet in battle, I won't hesitate to attack you anymore since I have paid my debts to you."

The man chuckled, "Ah, I understand what you have done. Northerners surely are a proud bunch...and you can expect the same from me as well."

He smiled. At least, he heard him laugh before they meet as enemies in the future. "Please take care of it."