#maomao!reader

[acaffeinated-constellation]

The Shinobi’s Apothecary Masterlist 🍵

An arranged marriage between two unlikely people in Iwagakure evolves to a love story neither of them were expecting, or how a (very) eccentric apothecary becomes her husband’s reason for living when he known in Edo Japan as the legendary shinobi Gabimaru the Hollow.

Otherwise known as the prequel to Hell’s Paradise that no one was expecting~.

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

[niyoriix]

I saw your meme for Apollo and I definitely agree, he doesn’t need an even bigger ego than he already has (I definitely wanna put him in his place)

I’m wondering if you might maybe write some headcannons or a story Apollo x either Shinbou (Demon Slayer) or Maoamo (Apothecary Dairies) s/o where it’s one-sided pinning (Apollo) towards a Doctor/Apothecary who want absolutely nothing to do with him and will either verbally bully, attack and poison him (Shinobu) or just look upon him is disgust, slap his hand if he touches her shoulder and just ignores him if she gets the chance (Maomao)

I highly recommend Apothecary Diaries, Maomao the Protagonist is TOO damn funny and would look at Apollo in only PURE DISGUST 😂 (She’s a wonderful female character, very smart, will hyper fixate on things that interest her) though you might like Lady Gyokuyou if you enjoy a playful Drama Stirrer who enjoys teasing others out of pure amusement 😈

BRUH I LOVE APOTHECARY DIARIES IM WAITING FOR THE NEXT SEASON

Low-key entered the flow state when writing this🔥

ALSO ALSO I did sort of a mix between the two of them! Hope that's alright.

PS. I'll ABSOLUTELY be making some more hcs of this req + some other fics for shinobu and maomao with ror characters 🥹🙏‼️

Apollo with a fem!Reader that's like maomao and shinobu

Warnings: whether you're a goddess or a mortal is up to your interpretation.

||- Apollo must've been seeing things because he might've just seen the prettiest woman he had ever seen in his immortal life. There you were, tending to a group of flowers while reading a book you held in your other hand. He didn't know if you were mortal or a goddess he never knew about. but something was telling him that he needed to have you.

There were many people that had heard of you but had never actually seen what you looked like. But it was clear with rumors surfacing around your usual quiet place of work that you were obviously a very beautiful and intelligent woman. Your diligent workers were sweet to anyone that came by to check in on the work you were doing, or to just ask questions about herbs or medicines.

But with the new found attention you received from a particular pink haired sun god constantly coming by you'd now received even more than you already did.-||

||-Headcannons-||

The first time he actually met you face to face was during a short break walking down a long and narrow path he had mysteriously found. Once he met the end of the path, he saw you. there you were standing, gracefully With your perfect hair blowing beautifully against the cold breeze. The sight alone could turn any mighty god as he, into a thousand winds. But,once you took notice of such a gaze coming from the glowing god, you took your chance and silently but quickly disappeared. Leaving the arrogant god stuck in his own delusional thoughts.

After that he was practically already yours. He fell in love every time he saw you, and he made sure to from now on take every chance he had at talking to you.

Although he tried to ask for your hand on multiple occasions, you never accepted. As you stated "it'd be too much for me, spending time with someone the likes of you." Even after you told him this he still didn't stop.

He'd leave (Somewhat)thoughtful gifts at your workplace. Which left you to either use them for experiments and such or just give them to the workers.

The only time you had actually looked up at him was when he gave you a beautiful bunch of herbs. It made your heart swell with how beautiful and unique each and every herb was! You could almost feel the taste in your mouth when you looked at such a mouthwatering gift. It was no surprise when you accepted one of the only gifts he'd given you that wasn't useless jewels or clothes.

Many of the gods were jealous of the attention you received from him. And to no one's surprise, you didn't care. Gave less of a shit than anyone ever could. Your priority was on medicine not a stupid egotistical god.

There was never a day that you didn't see him not roaming around your place. It was weird. Doesn't a mighty god like him have anything better to do than pining after an uninterested woman??

He'd definitely be trying to get some of your workers on his side. Like all the time. Gifts, literally anything. This didn't work at all btw. Your workers were way too loyal and denied every gift. This made him go spiraling for any small amount of attention you "gave" him.

But the more persistent he was in courting you, the more you started to notice. He'd written so many poems and songs for you in the past few years.

He'd play lyre right next to the window you slept by(to your annoyance). So in retaliation you put poison in his cup of tea the very next day.

The closer he got to you the more you'd verbally abuse him. Bruising his ego many times with your cruel choices of words.

"Can't you be more capable and take care of yourself instead of bothering me? Is that really all you do all day?"

"Why on earth would I waste my time on you?"

"Don't even look at me with that disgusting face of yours."

"Begone you pesky bitch!"

"Let me be you lazy god!"

"Go bring me some of those herbs you found recently or I'll pierce your chest with my dagger."

Every single one of those. Made. You. So. Much. Hotter.

He took every word you said and wrote it down in a journal. why? No reason other than to document the progress of your growing relationship!

He'd take verbal abuse over you hitting the ever living shit out of him any day. BUT. He did in fact find that hot too. When he'd try and touch the rim of your sleeve. Punch to the face. He kept getting socked in face to the point he'd have his servants worried over his health and whether if him courting you was really worth it.

Although through the years of constant abuse he received from you he still was so deeply in love with you. His love was simply unshakeable.

The moments between you both were now much softer than the crude remarks you'd sometimes make towards him. He was delighted that you'd shown your other side to him. It felt vulnerable to him and he treasured that.

He'd help you a lot with his knowledge of medicines and herbs now. He'd quicken the pace of duration that the plants grew at. And he'd make some of the herbs(by your request) much much stronger than their original state.

If the poisons you drink ever take a huge toll on you he'll instantly bring you back to full health so you can do it again.

Apollo would often find himself helping you find a bunch of herbs you could possibly use. With him telling you which ones were deadly and which ones were fine for consumption. He was like a walking and talking medical book. It was actually awesome.

(When you found out he was the god of not only the sun but medicines? Holy shit a full 180) you needed his help with unknown herbs and he wanted your attention! Amazing duo I'd say.

Also your knowledge of herbs was amazing to him. I mean he knew you were smart but the way you'd use such simple herbs for some profound medicines amazed him.

[yuuka29]

Incorrect quotes 1 🍄

(spoiler for book 5)

Vil: Rook, where is the apple juice that I was going to give to Neige?

Rook: Ah, princesse venimeuse took it from me a second ago, why?

Vil:...

Vil:... You allow her to take it?

Rook: well, yes. she really wanted it for some reason.

Vil:....

Vil:... Rook... Please go and bring the vomiting potion from the nursery.

Rook: Oui!

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

Maomao: so what's your favourite hubby?

Rook: stalking.

Maomao: oh... Well I like tasting poison and make medicine.

Rook: I know.

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

(Ghost marriage event)

Ghost prince: so... Do you like me too?

Maomao while sucking a poisonous flower she found: excuse me?

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

*Rollo summoning the red flowers to take everyone magic.*

*Maomao picking the flowers in the background.* : so are these poisonous?

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

Neige staring at Maomao: I think I found the princess of my dreams.

Also maomao staring at Vil: he sure is the princess of every guy's dreams.

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

(Two introverts meeting)

Idia: ... I'm just anxious to talk to people.

Maomao: you like people? I hate them alright.

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

(Joining clubs)

Maomao: so what do you have to interest me here?

Jade: mushroom.

Maomao: I'm in.

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

Ace: what did you do back in your world?You seem to be a important person.

Maomao: not important but I'm the reason that emperor got two women pregnant.

Ace: WHAT?!

😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺🌿😺

More in here 👇

what would happen if a poison taster in the ancient Chinese palace, gets reincarnated to a magic college in another world?

[acaffeinated-constellation]

The Shinobi's Apothecary 🪴 - chapter one

warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, minors dni, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, murder, gore, maomao!reader.

* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period, references include historical articles and a fascinating post about the different types of arranged marriages in Japan posted by @kazenofuji. I will leave the article to that link here if anyone is interested in reading it.

Special thanks to @luna-azzurra for helping me to describe Gabimaru’s eyes than just amber irises 😆 if you are looking for writing references or prompts, I highly recommend checking out their blog~!

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.

Series Masterlist

Deities have an odd sense of humor. You thought they were being gracious in giving you what you wanted - a solitary life. Free to gather information from the pleasure district and indulge in different medicines, remedies, and most of all poisons. Turns out you were the butt of the joke in the end when the village chief chose you to be the wife of his strongest shinobi, Gabimaru the Hollow. Better known as his protégé, who had killed his predecessor to take the title for his own, as per the tradition, which would make him the seventh successor.

Lucky number seven, what a lucky girl you are.

There was no warning, no way you could predict that this would even happen because that wretched old man was like a certain sly fox you had known in your old life. Incredibly wily, possessing a silver tongue that carried the weight of his authority in Iwagakure, speaking in riddles with a stony face that made him extremely difficult to decipher his body language.

He simply introduced you as his daughter, stating how you were trained from a young age to know your place - a bold, odious lie - and he expected many children that would be born from your marriage. Hah, ridiculous. Your brow twitched, trying to hold back a roll of your eyes as you smiled tightly at your new husband. You hoped it reached your eyes in any shape or form to hide the discomfort clawing at your mind, the weight of the uchikake bridal kimono on your shoulders.

You really thought he would postpone your marriage ceremony until Yui left the house with her own carefully selected spouse, not before her.

At this moment, all you could do was stare at the young man sitting across from you and contemplate how such an arranged marriage could work out, or even how to divorce him amiably without throwing Gabimaru out of the estate. Nothing — you came up with nothing. That was the problem with a yōshi-engumi marriage. It was an unusual practice in this era, where the father-in-law adopted the groom into the family as his son-in-law. If Gabimaru angered your father, he would remove him immediately from the family tree. He would lose everything.

You analyzed Gabimaru carefully, taking in everything you could see from where he sat.

He appeared to be no older than your age - sixteen, maybe seventeen summers. His white hair was tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it countless times before he came to this room. The angular lines of his jaw still possessed the softness of a teenager, but no light reflected in his eyes. You imagined innocent joy once filled those amber irises, like a bonfire dancing under the stars surrounded by laughter. But life doesn’t seem to have been kind to him. His eyes are like the coals in a firepit, glowing dimly before they slowly die out as the evening air wears on. Hollow.

What has he seen? You wondered. What did the village chief do to him? More importantly, amber was not an accurate description of his eye color, but orpiment. Why? Because it brought back the memory of the investigation surrounding the yellow arsenic, and remembering how it all happened was keeping you calm. Funny how memories from a previous life can provide comfort at unusual times.

Your skin prickled at the thought of the emperor, who deflowered little girls and kept them in the rear palace, discarding them once they became young women without batting an eye. And yet from one of them, a son was born and for unknown reasons he had become a recluse, spending all hours of the day painting in isolation. He used the orpiment as a pigment for his yellow paints without realizing it was poison. Chronic exposure to arsenic through skin contact and inhalation destroyed his mental and physical health over time. It was also the reason why his corpse had not decayed for over a year, and caused the empress dowager to believe she had cursed him.

“Treat him well, my child, and bring honor to this family.” The fox’s silky voice broke through your mind, causing you to blink rapidly. “As is customary in our village, you two shall stay here until your own residence is ready. The best laborers are toiling away as we speak.” You watched him rise from his seat, black robes billowing behind him. “We shall let the newlyweds be until the celebration banquet is ready.” He left the room, followed by the first wife Miyu. Then Yui, and an entourage of servants and shinobi. When the last shinobi closed the shoji door behind him, an awkward silence crept in.

You truly did not know what you could say to him. Apologize for being married to you against his will? Please treat me well, even though we are complete strangers and today is our first meeting without a lavish wedding ceremony because the village cannot afford to do such pleasantries when there are mouths to feed? But staying silent and staring at the floor changed nothing, and at this point all you could do was hope that everything would be fine. So you smiled; a sweet, innocent smile to show Gabimaru that you were looking forward to the days ahead in this marriage.

Whether it was because he did not want to waste any more time on you or wished to curry more of the chief’s favor, Gabimaru stood up from the tatami mat and left you in the room, smile still stretched across your face. Well, this was not what you were expecting but you supposed it could have gone much differently if he possessed a violent temper or immediately belittled you, to remind you that you belong to him now and not the chief as if you were nothing more than livestock.

It’s a sad truth, and that’s how people treated women in this world. You only hoped that no one would kidnap you and make you work for a eunuch again, or worse, in a pleasure house. You could only thank the gods for allowing to find clay and use it on your face to replicate freckles, or else this situation would have been much worse should that old man find out what you truly look like.

You were more than happy to work for the pleasure district as an apothecary, just not as a sex worker, even though you have nothing but the highest respect for them and what they do to make a living.

Time was a blur after that night, and eventually you found a silent routine with Gabimaru. It wasn’t awkward or tense like before, just…comfortable. You would wake up early with the sun just peeking above the horizon and dress swiftly. Slipping out of the house to check on the fields. Once you collected what you needed, you would head around back to your work shed, nestled in the back of the estate. Using the mortar and pestle to grind some into powders and placing others in amber containers, labeling and storing them away to protect from the sunlight and moisture until it was time to use them.

Once all the orders were done and packed to deliver to the city, you would study some herbs. It was fascinating how the usage and effect of these herbs in this world were so similar to the ones in your past life, even the poisonous mushrooms. For example, gan cao or licorice root can be used as an anti-inflammatory and heal the stomach lining. Some names for these herbs are different, though. This world’s gan cao was referred by another name, anise hyssop. Aphrodisiacs still come as exquisite chocolates, or a special blend of green tea with carefully picked ingredients to boost dopamine, like roasted hojicha or sweet kamairicha. Matcha tea was the most popular and expensive choice. You never handled abortion drugs since there were plenty of these circulating in the pleasure district. Pity you couldn’t piece together an alcohol distillation apparatus for obvious reasons, but mainly to make disinfectants which would help conduct further experiments and save lives, but having enough space to do your work in the early hours of the morning was enough for you.

When the rooster’s cries echoed in the sky, you knew Yui would arrive soon, cheerily announcing that breakfast was ready to be served and no, you couldn’t eat in the shed just so that you could continue your self-studying. You still asked though, only to tease a laugh out of your sister or a solid flick to the forehead depending on her mood.

Breakfast was held in the dining hall every morning. The chief would sit at the head of the table next to Miyu, as she was the one in charge of the other concubines and managed the household in his absence. Yui would be on the left. You were seated on the right, and Gabimaru would sit opposite of you as he was your husband. Sometimes he would be there, or he wouldn’t, depending on the length of his missions. When he was there it was awkward unlike your early morning routine.

You tried to make small talk, asking him if he slept well, but he just stared at you with no emotion in his eyes before he disappeared from the estate without a trace. Were questions like that not asked of him before, even during his training? That was odd, considering how valuable he was to the village as a shinobi. Unless that was the reason. He was not treated as a human being who had proven himself to carry the mantle of his predecessors, rather as a weapon wearing a human’s skin; honed, sharpened, and prepared to do any job given to them by whomever can afford the services of the Iwagakure shinobi.

A perfect weapon, but at what cost?

After everyone finished breakfast and the servants removed the dishes, they all continued with their day, yourself included. Gabimaru had his job, Yui had her own business selling homemade umbrellas that were popular with the villagers and the occasional tourist who had enough courage to travel through said Iwagakure to get to the city, and you were in the city running around fulfilling deliveries, checking on patients, etc.

Dinner was a short-lived affair; even shorter than breakfast, and everyone in the house was in bed as soon as the cicadas began their nightly song.

But one autumn evening, you decided to forgo the privacy of your bedroom and crept to the work-shed to do some light reading in hopes that you could fall asleep afterwards. The last thing you wanted was the chief finding out that you could read and write just as well as a noble, including what you really look like without your make-up on. You were examining an anatomical chart of the nervous system when you heard a knock emitting from the door. Puzzled, and a little worried as to who would come here so late in the evening except for one person, you quickly hid the scrolls beneath the loose floorboards of your work table and rose to your feet.

“Who is it?” You called out. Silence. “Yui, is that you? What’s wrong?”

She was the only one in the house who would have noticed the light from the work shed since the window in her room provided an obvious vantage point of it. No one else would bother to come here…unless it was someone with a grudge against you. You were about to reach for a scalpel discreetly hidden on a shelf between loosely bounded books and ink stones when a gravelly voice growled on the other side.

“It’s me. Let me in.”

“Me?” You parroted in confusion, hand still hovering in the air towards the scalpel. “Identify yourself.” You commanded. It was that or they might lose a finger, whichever came first. You were not taking any chances. Then you heard an annoyed sigh before the voice spoke again.

“Gabimaru, your husband. May I please come in, wife?”

You blinked. Gabimaru was here, outside of your shed? Now that was a concern. Why would he come here? Unless —

Fueled by pure instinct and muscle memory, your feet carried you to the door, and your rough fingers curled around the door handle, pushing it to the right with a loud rat-tat-tmp. The light from the oil lamp spilled out from behind you just barely illuminating the battered shinobi who stood, barely, before you. You scanned him, taking note of his tattered clothes soaked in blood. Your hand shot out, gripping his wrist as you yanked him inside. You head swiveled around the courtyard right left in the trees the bushes and up towards the roof because shinobi were sneaky like that before you closed the door behind you with a loud thamp.

You guided Gabimaru to the tatami mats. “Sit.” You said tightly.

He did and watched you intently as you darted to the shelves where you kept the salves, disinfectants, and of course, linen. You did not ask him questions, nor did you feel it was your right to just yet. In truth, all you were really worried about was time. How bad were his injuries, when did he receive them and how long did he let them go untreated? Minutes, hours, days? Depending on his answers, you could either prevent any infections that could lead to amputation or allow a disease to fester and spread through contact or the air.

You placed the supplies on his left and started to mixed together herbs in the bowl, your pestle clanking against the clay. “Do you feel lightheaded?” You asked.

“No?”

“Nausea, headache?”

Gabimaru scrunched his nose. “No.”

“Well, we can remove concussion off the list of injuries, but I’ll need to run a few more tests to be sure that you are coherent.” You stood up, grabbing another clay bowl and went to the water jug, lifting the lid and dipping the wooden ladle to spoon enough clean water to fill it, and walked back over to him. “I will need to remove your shirt to check for other injuries, so please pardon me.” You reached out and gripped the upper part of his uniform, only to have your progress be halted by scarred fingers coil around your wrists like vines.

You blinked, looking up at him. “It’s fine if you do not consent to a physical evaluation, but it will be hard for me to properly diagnose the extent of your injuries if I do not see it for myself.” You matched his intense stare with your own.

“I can take care of them.” He said. “I just wanted to see if you had something for pain relief.” He released your wrist, allowing to take a step back if you were scared of him. But you didn’t, and simply raised a brow at him.

“You are aware that pain relief will not stop an infection from, yes?” You said cocking your head as you crossed your arms. “It would be neglectful of me to simply give you an herb that can provide pain relief and not treat the wound that is causing the pain.”

“And you can’t make a proper evaluation at a glance?” He frowned, sucking his teeth. “The chief said you were good.”

“I simply know how to optimize a patient’s treatment based on an evaluation that includes examining their body, nothing more. Not to do so is neglectful on my part and in my practice as an apothecary.” You said, glancing down at his body, his bloodied clothes growing darker as more blood soaked the linen. “If you would permit me, I can at least disinfect the wounds and wipe you down with the water and clothes I have here instead of taking you straight to the bathhouse for a soak.” There would also be a risk of contaminating the bathhouse water if that were to happen, and make any wounds he has much worse, but you kept that thought to yourself. If you pressed any more, you had a feeling he’d hiss at you like a cat, unhappy with being pushed into a corner even if it is for his own health.

He stared at you for a long moment, amber irises unblinking before he closed them. “You’re serious.”

“Quite so.”

“And you would only do what you said? Just clean the wounds and apply medicine?”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t try to take a peek?”

Your own frown deepened. “No, of course not.” I have never heard of a shinobi who was concerned about his chastity, let alone a married one. You thought. Is this another lesson that the old man had drilled into Gabimaru’s mind before he announced our marriage? Then again, should you really be surprised at this point?

“I would not do such a thing, I assure you. Doing so would be unprofessional and inconsiderate towards not only my patient but my husband.” You tilted your head slightly. “Unless you would like me to do everything blindfolded, but that would take much longer.”

Gabimaru was silent, and he stripped down, starting with the tengui kerchief coiled around his neck followed by the teppo-sode top right there in the middle of the work shed. You persuaded him to keep the tattsuke-bakama style bottoms on his person until you have finished examining his upper half. For someone who was worried about his virtue, he disrobed himself quickly. You would have to scold him for his lack of modesty another day.

Thankfully, the number of shallow cuts outweighed the deeper ones scattered around his abdomen, hips, and one on his left hand. The deeper cuts had to be cauterized and stitched together with a needle. Gabimaru was not pleased, but he kept his mouth shut and allowed you to do the work even when he seemed to want nothing more than to take care of it himself; the way he hunched his back, the deepening tell-tale twitches in his fingers. In this shed, the man known as the Hollow acted more like a cat than a shinobi ready to kill under the chief’s command. After spending more than an hour of washing, rewashing, changing the water and rags, stitching and threading the needle with more thread, Gabimaru was cleaned and covered in gauze; the grounded herbs, which had thickened into a paste with oil, was smeared into the mouth of the wound so it would speed up his healing. His legs, ankles, and thighs were fine, only bruising that must have started two days ago? Three?

“No fractures or broken bones — good, good.” You mumbled to yourself.

The candlelight bounced off of the wall as you continued to treat Gabimaru, double-checking the tightness of his bandages and being absolutely certain you missed nothing that he didn’t tell you in relation to his current symptoms.

“You are all finished.” You said finally, putting away your supplies and wrapping up the dirty linen, the bowls, and the needle with makeshift mittens. You would have to instruct the servant to get rid of these things and bring them to the furnace to destroy the bacteria. You glanced at the tatami mats before you clicked your tongue.

That might include the removal of the tatami mats.

Another reason you wished you had an alcohol apparatus; it would be easier - and more cost efficient - to simply disinfect the bowls and wipe down the mats instead of throwing them out, finding new equipment with the allowance you receive from the chief for your work and doing business in the pleasure district. In the grand scheme of things? It wasn’t much to live on your own independently. Quite unfortunate. “Do not take a bath for at least two days, and come back tomorrow so that I can change the bandages and apply new medicinal herbs.”

“There is no need for you to do that.” Gabimaru said, pulling the uniform top over his head. “You have done enough already.”

“It would still be wise to make sure that they are healing properly - ”

“I heal fast.” He spat, cutting you off. “I am Gabimaru the Hollow.”

You felt your brow twitch. You weren’t sure if you should feel less worried that this shinobi, your husband, possessed the ability to heal within days, or if you should allow your curiosity to examine the extent of said ability by poisoning his food and drink, gradually increasing the dose until you were satisfied with the results. But you had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it, and the last thing you wanted to do was anger your spouse even further.

So you pushed that idea away, into the back of your mind and shrugged. “You might think you are hollow, yet you still bleed. That proves you are alive, does it not?” You saw him stiffen, shoulders going rigid.

Oh, dear. Perhaps you had gone too far?

You were about to apologize when he vanished in a cloud of smoke. There was no trace of him, except for the sight of the shoji pushed all the way to the right, letting in the night air.

“Sleep well, husband.” You murmured, moving to close it, making a loud clack. You sighed, pressing your forehead against the paper screen. You needed to get better at communicating with others; it had been a problem during your time at the imperial palace, unintentionally causing misunderstandings between you and the people you had cared about. This time, you needed to do better. You have to, because even if Gabimaru might never see you as a lifelong partner in the romantic sense, in this arranged marriage, you hoped that at the very least, you two could be friends. Now? It seems like even such a thing was impossible.

taglist: @craftnkittn @pa1nrema1ns @dissociativewriter @ssaischilling @honeycola-umbra @anothergojostan @fanboilingwriter @star-director9 @ladydoe8 @who-is-ralx

[acaffeinated-constellation]

The Shinobi's Apothecary 🍵

Hello everyone, it’s been a while~! Things in my cozy corner of the world have gotten busier, but I will still strive to write content and share it on this platform, though as things are at the moment, it might be a monthly update~.

Tonight’s post is a little different; instead of a full-fledged fic, this is a preview for an upcoming slow-burn series~!

Special thanks to @jinwoosbabyboo, who had taken time out of her busy day to brainstorm with me and came up with the prompt that has become the sneak peek of what you might expect when a Maomao! Reader is reborn into the world of Hell’s Paradise with more obstacles than ever before that come between her and her poisoning experiments. The biggest one? Being married off to Iwagakure’s most prized shinobi, Gabimaru the Hollow. Or is it such a terrible thing after all if he’s immune to all types of poison too~?

If you would like to be tagged for the official release, comment down below with a 🌿.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics . Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.

warnings: canon divergence, reincarnation, arranged marriage, mention of prostitution and sexual assault.

Series Masterlist

“You’re already awake?”

You paused, the brush freezing in midair at the familiar monotone voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see Gabimaru standing a few feet away, dressed in a faded grey yukata held together with a black obi tied around his waist. He didn’t have any other garments besides his shinobi attire and like you, he was never fussy about keeping up with the capital’s fashion trends. There was no point in doing so when his purpose is to blend into the shadows and carry out the village chief’s orders, and you mended any tears found on your kimono with Yui’s help.

“Is something wrong?” You asked. “You’re staring.”

Gabimaru didn’t answer. Instead his bare feet stomped across the tatami mat, sat next to you on the engawa leading out towards the fields with a loud thump. You opened your mouth to interrogate him further when he raised his hand, cupping your cheek. He then stroked a calloused thumb under your eyes, and pulled away, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together.

“Your freckles.” He said. “They’re not there.”

“Yes.” You replied plainly. “Because I removed them.”

“So you wear make-up when you leave the house?”

“I removed my make-up. That’s why they are gone.”

Gabimaru tilted his head to the side. “I don’t get it.”

You sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. What a bother. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide anything from him, he is your husband. But this bickering would become more and more pointless if you didn’t elaborate on the supposedly contraditory statement now. You lowered the brush down onto top of the container, making a low clink before you swiveled towards Gabimaru, giving him your undivided attention as you spoke again.

“Before I leave the house, I paint on dried clay on my face to add freckles. Every time you have seen me until now, I was already wearing make-up. Cosmetics aren’t just to make someone look beautiful.”

“But why would you do that?”

“Not everyone leaves the pleasure district sexually satisfied.” You said. “Clients who are violent, carrying empty wallets or venereal diseases are more prone to take their frustrations out on anyone who is even remotely attractive in their eyes. Being a plain, ugly girl removes me from being a target and dragged into a back alley. Or people finding out I’m collecting information for the village chief.” You then turned away, dipping your brush back into the clay mixture. “That’s all.”

More importantly, less attention on you meant focusing more time and energy into studying medicine or testing new poisons that come into your possession. You didn’t know why…but something in the air has shifted. Maybe the temperature was dropping? It might be a breezy day, after all. Perfect for spending an hour outside to collect herbs to make some tonics to treat fever and night chills. The Silk House had requested you to make some for their higher-ranking courtesans so that they would be well enough to perform tonight.

You raised the bronze mirror up, narrowing your eyes slightly. Well, the freckles were almost passable yesterday, but you needed to add a little more on the right so it was symmetrical to the left -

“Can I do it?”

Huh? You looked back at Gabimaru, who looked just as surprised as you at what he had just said. Why does he want to do that? You watched his body freeze, his face pink from the sunlight and hands raised in defense.

“Uh, I’m sorry.” He sputtered. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

For some reason that you couldn’t explain - maybe it was because you remembered Yui telling you to allow Gabimaru in, to let him get to know you as more than a stranger who was just sharing a household under the chief’s orders of an arranged marriage - you swiveled your body around, knees tucked under your bottom in the seiza position. You laid out the container, the brush, and the mirror between the two of you, and looked at your stunned spouse straight in the eye.

“Go ahead.” You said, closing your eyes. “Just make sure that they don’t look too big or too small or someone will notice the ruse.”

taglist: @pa1nrema1ns @ssaischilling @craftnkittn

[acaffeinated-constellation]

The Shinobi's Apothecary 🪴 - chapter two

warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, minors dni, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, mention of childbirth, murder, gore, maomao!reader.

* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period, references include historical articles and a fascinating post about the different types of arranged marriages in Japan posted by @kazenofuji. I will leave the article to that link here if anyone is interested in reading it.

Shout-out to @jinwoosbabyboo for taking the time out of her busy schedule with proofreading this chapter~.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.

Series Masterlist

His name is Gabimaru the Hollow. He wasn’t sure if that was even the name that his parents had given him at birth. The village chief killed them when he was a baby, so perhaps in the end it doesn’t matter. Becoming stronger and doing jobs for the clients were the only objectives a shinobi should concern himself with.

Being a shinobi is a way of life, ideally better than being a merchant or a farmer. Very few survive the rigorous training; in exchange, the shinobi would possess strength, speed, and agility beyond an ordinary person, which allowed him and his fellow peers to carry out their tasks perfectly, with no regard for life whatsoever.

Eventually he proved his worth by challenging the previous shinobi who held the title of Hollow, and the chief rewarded him by marrying off to one of his daughters. A sign of utmost respect, they all said, villagers and shinobi alike. Hope for the village, because if Gabimaru the Hollow is strong, he will most definitely breed stronger warriors for us, for the chief.

But he had already been an honored guest of the chief’s estate and received more than enough coin for the completion of his tasks to put food in his stomach or a roof over his head should he choose to live on his own. He needed nothing else, yet not even he would dare to decline a gift from the man who had raised him to be a perfect killer.

Bearing children is the sole purpose of the women in the village, so it wouldn’t have surprised Gabimaru if the daughter chosen to be his wife would be much older than him; after all, the chief has had sired many children over the years, including those who had entered his house as a concubine. Not that he has seen them, nor cared enough to seek them out. The person introduced to him as his bride was average; enormous eyes, a small nose. and a face that showed she ate well, yet not enough to saw she overindulged in her appetite. Hair washed and combed, a large white uchitake with cranes robe draped over her shoulders, yet underneath the extravagant cloth was a weathered light green kimono with a burgundy obi tied around the waist in a traditional Nagoya knot. She also wore sandals, which were worn out and covered in an inch of mud and specks of grass. That was the first thing Gabimaru learned about his new bride: she spend a lot of time outside, which would also explain why she had freckles.

She seemed ordinary, but he knew she hadn’t been sheltered nor naive as per his initial impression before the wedding ceremony. If she were a clueless child who believed everyone is inherently good, then the chief wouldn’t have trusted her to leave the village and work in the city as an apothecary. What work would he make his daughter do, and why would entrust her into the care of the Hollow as a bride? Gabimaru could only speculate. Perhaps the chief wanted to make sure that his daughter didn’t run away or spill secrets to their enemies. That would make sense, considering how often she visited the pleasure district, whether it was to deliver medicine or treat patients who wished to be discreet.

The brothels were respectable businesses on the surface, offering relaxation for their clients if they could afford it. A place where men - single or married - could indulge in their vices. Men could freely discuss state matters and secrets, seeing the women they paid to entertain them were too stupid to understand what they were saying or simply didn’t care enough to listen. But the walls listen; they hear everything. Information that spilled from loose lips that were tipsy from sake and pleasure can be bought or spread as gossip, depending on the brothel. It was a simple but effective information network.

And the only one who was privy to it was his new wife, the apothecary. The chief wanted to keep it that way, if only to have some kind of leverage over Iwagakure’s enemies, rivaling shinobi villages included. The shogunate wasn’t bothered by it so long as Iwagakure didn’t meddle too much in his affairs. Without the shogunate, then Iwagakure wouldn’t have as many jobs available to Gabimaru or the other shinobi to put food in their stomachs.

That was just the way of things in Iwagakure.

After he realized this — that his marriage is really nothing more than a surveillance mission — Gabimaru thought it would be prudent to understand his target’s day-to-day schedule and report anything out of the ordinary to his new father-in-law.

The job began as soon as dawn broke on the morning after the wedding ceremony. Although he was a married man now, tradition dictated that his wife must sleep in a separate room from her husband so long as they are living under the roof of her father. They could not share a room unless it was for procreation or they had their own home, which was currently being built at an undisclosed location.

When he saw the last shoji door on the right - connected to Yui’s room, who is the second youngest child of the chief’s daughter and apparently his wife’s favorite sister — Gabimaru immediately noticed that it wasn’t closed. Had someone sneaked inside the estate without the Hollow noticing?

His rough hands flexed, ready to deliver a killing blow to whomever might be on the other side of the door. Three, two one.

He pushed it open, a kunai in his other palm, and then blinked. There was no intruder, and neither was his wife. Aside from a writing desk and a changing screen, there sat a neatly folded futon in the middle of the sparse room.

You must have closed it enough to appear you were in the room without alerting the servants or waking up your sister. If that is the case, then you must already be on foot.

Gabimaru left the estate as soon as his sandals were tied around his ankles, wordlessly hopping through the trees. He found his wife quickly; she was dressed in the same green kimono, a wicker basket strapped to her back with a stoic expression on her face. She paused, her sandals kicking up dirt as she looked up in the trees, making his breath hitch as her eyes almost made contact with his.

Gabimaru froze, his body completely still. He didn’t move, nor did he breathe until his wife resumed walking, her attention averted back to the path in front of her. It led to a vast field of herbs, where no one but the midwife and his wife, the apothecary, could enter and use them as they saw fit. Anyone else who went there without the chief’s explicit permission would be executed.

He watched her kneel on the wet earth, smiling softly as she carefully examined the foliage of each herb with utmost care, running her thumb across some of the large leaves before she looked at others. She placed them all in her basket with utmost care, even when she was pulling them up by the roots. An hour and half later, she left with her wares and returned to the estate to place them in her work shed. Then she was off again, catching an ox cart that would take through the mountain pass and into the city. She spent hours there, moving from one pleasure house to another, delivering medicines or treating ailments. That concluded Gabimaru’s first day of observation.

The days that followed shared a similar pattern, except for disappearing into a back room in each of the pleasure houses with a male servant guarding the door. Gabimaru concluded this was how she received information to deliver to the chief and vouched that she had not gone to anyone else that evening. The chief was pleased and dismissed him. The midwife came to the estate one early afternoon. She needed his wife’s help with delivering a set of twins to a couple, and was gone until nightfall. The birth was a success, though it seemed to have exhausted his wife immensely as she staggered back to the estate, her kimono covered in splattered blood. Despite that, she still rose at dawn and headed to the fields to collect more herbs, and started her day again as if nothing had ever happened. She wore a burgundy kimono with white peonies and a black obi. The servants took the green one to be laundered, or she gave it to them.

Either way, it would take a while for the blood to be washed out.

Gabimaru felt something settle inside his rib cage - it was unpleasant, an itch, an urge to grab his wife and drag her back to the estate, to her bedroom, so she could rest. He would have done so, probably, if the chief hadn’t sent him out to do a big job with two other shinobi. When he came back, he was the tired one and in need of some pain relievers, and he knew you had to have some in your shed.

But instead of screaming in terror at seeing her husband in ragged clothes or covered in drying blood, his wife pulled him inside her shed and treated his wounds with the same hands that handled herbs with utmost care.

How was it possible that someone like her was the chief’s daughter?

taglist: @craftnkittn @pa1nrema1ns @dissociativewriter @ssaischilling @honeycola-umbra @anothergojostan @fanboilingwriter @star-director9 @ladydoe8 @who-is-ralx @sparrowwithaquill @queenofspades403 @kawaistrawberry21

[acaffeinated-constellation]

The Shinobi's Apothecary 🪴 - chapter four

warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, minors dni, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, murder, gore, mention of pregnancy/childbirth, maomao!reader.

* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period. Tayū was the word to refer to Yoshiwara’s highest paying courtesans before it was changed to oiran by the mid 18th century.

Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest. Special thanks to @pa1nrema1ns for being a beta-reader and making sure this chapter was ready to be shared with the world~.

Series Masterlist

The tea blend for Murasaki House was not finished yet, so you journeyed to Kaguya House and made your last delivery on the major boulevard. Contrary to the belief of the madams and owners, you didn’t limit your services to the established houses in Yoshiwara. The yūjo courtesans may not be revered as the tayū, their services in The Koi Pond and The White Tiger were more readily available to customers looking for a night of bliss.

It was strange how these houses on the lower side of Yoshiwara reminded you more of the prized flowers that once flourished in the Veredigris House. Perhaps it was because the courtesans were more open in their affection towards you whenever you visited them, like what they were doing now.

“[First Name], it is so lovely to see you~!” Setsuna cried out, her willowy frame gliding across the reception hall towards you. The sweet scent of her jasmine perfume tickled your nose as she embraced you. Her dark-green tresses fell over her shoulder, a striking contrast to the kimono she knew would draw a gentleman’s attention from a rival house and into her chambers. She prided herself on wearing the classic white polka-dotted pattern with elegance, how the teal obi coiled around her curves just right, and her expressive, dark brown eyes were the main selling point.

Setsuna was full of herself, and she had a right to be. If there weren’t clusters of men waiting to spend an evening with her, she wouldn’t have lasted as long as she has working in the brothel. Courtesans who are arrogant or too violent would be kicked out the moment a customer complains about her attitude and doesn’t put in the effort to improve on it.

“We’ve hardly seen you since you got married! Has that big, mean husband of yours been keeping you away from us?” She rested her chin on top of your head. “How dare he do such a thing!” She pouted. “We’ve had you first long before he dared to ask for your hand, and we are your precious patients, so our health comes before anything else! Isn’t that right, my darling kitten?” She purred in your ear.

If you weren’t already used to Setsuna’s clingy yet endearing personality, you would have thought that she was trying to flirt her way out of entertaining someone who wasn’t to her particular taste.

“My husband is busy with his work as a traveling merchant, and he comes from a good family. It was fortuitous that my father approved of the match at all.” You replied, the half-lie, half-truth rolling off your tongue. You had practiced what you would say to any of the courtesans if they got curious about your home life. A carefully crafted piece of fiction to let their minds wander with silly fantasies and not question any variables, but then again no one really cared. It was just small talk, for that purpose, to talk and be distracted before work.

You tilted your head back slightly so you could properly look at Setsuna and smiled. “There is no need to worry for my well-being; I can take care of myself.” It was true. You had survived this long without getting kidnapped by flesh peddlers or swindled by shady merchants who claimed to have rare ingredients from across the oceans, and so on. Really, getting married to Gabimaru wasn’t the most terrible thing to have happened to you - in this life, or the previous one.

Setsuna’s pout deepened. “I still don’t like it.” She declared. “And I never will. But if you are happy, then I suppose that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“That is all we could ever hope for our dear little apothecary.” A low, velvety voice crooned. You swiveled your head to the right, seeing another familiar and popular courtesan of this house making her appearance even though she should be resting.

But then again, you have never seen Momiji not working. If she were not entertaining guests in her room, she would be in the office, helping organize the books and making sure business ran smoothly if the madam’s back was preventing her from doing so. There were rumors she would take over The White Tiger once Lady Izumi retired, though that’s all it was. Mere speculation. Her long brown hair was halfway pulled back, and a lacquered hairpin held it together; its grass-green beads enhanced her natural beauty and highlighted the color of her eyes. A bright yellow kimono with pink and red plum blossoms adorned her voluptuous body, held together by her favorite purple obi but loose enough to expose her shoulders to enticed clients who would want to see more of her milky skin.

Momiji smiled at you. “I pray the gods bless your marriage with fortune and fertility. I assume you’ve come here to deliver our monthly remedies?”

“Of course.” You said.

Momiji nodded. “Please wait here, then. I shall return in half a moment. Setsuna, don’t even think about taking her to your room.” She eyed her fellow courtesan with a raised brow, who shrugged innocently and had yet to release you from her clutches.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Setsuna replied. “I’m just having a nice little chat with our kitten, now shoo.” She waved her hand as if she were trying to brush off dirt from her sleeves. “You’ll have your turn with [First Name] after me.”

Momiji rolled her eyes in exasperation and left. She returned shortly as she had promised, and the two of you made an exchange that came as naturally as breathing. Coin for medicine, inquiries on health, and additional orders to be made within a week's time. She gave you a brief pat on the head, and left, dragging Setsuna by the wrist, who whined and tried to wiggle away as they went up the stairs to the second floor, and then disappeared from your line of sight.

The work was finished. It was time to return home. Tomorrow you will return to Yoshiwara and collect information for the chief. Or, you glanced to the right. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to stop by the marketplace for a bit. It had been a while since you had gone anywhere in Edo besides Yoshiwara. Maybe you could find a bargain on some ingredients for dinner tonight, stock up on a few things. So that was what you were headed, weaving through the congested streets, bartering with vendors, and filling up your basket once the purchases were made: fresh fish wrapped in bamboo, tofu, noodles, vegetables, and sardine oil to light the paper laterns in the house, should you need to do some light reading at night.

By the time you had finished with the shopping, it was already mid-afternoon. You needed to start heading towards the path leading to the mountains or else you wouldn’t reach the village until nightfall with the amount of items you were now carrying and on foot. As you hurried down the street, your ears caught worried whispers being murmured amongst the crowded area.

“Did you hear? A shinzō from Yoshiwara has gone missing!”

“Surely you jest! Yoshiwara residents treasure them as much as their tayū!”

“Indeed they are! Which begs the question: who in the right mind would dare -”

“Hush, don’t you dare finish that sentence! Let the police find the shinzō, and pray that she is safe instead of what you were just implying! Do you wish to bring misfortune upon the house she represents?”

“I was just thinking out loud!”

“You don’t think before you speak, you silly fool!”

Your brow furrowed. A shinzō had gone missing? If this were true, then it was indeed terrible news for the houses in Yoshiwara. Although the tayū are revered in the Nightless City, their beauty is fleeting. Should a tayū be forced to retire, her apprentice would step in and take her place, allowing the cycle of fortune, fame, and house rivalry to continue without ever stopping. That was what a shinzōwas, as opposed to a kamuro, an attendant who supported the tayū in every way possible, from doing chores to running errands in the city, supporting her public appearances as part of the entourage, and occasionally secretarial work.

But this was not the rear palace, and you had no authority to be investigating an ongoing case. You were an apothecary in this life, with no connections to royalty and no reason to get involved. Don’t draw attention to yourself, [First Name]. Do not make the same mistakes as before. Focus on what needs to be done and nothing else.

That was what you kept telling yourself as you scurried out of Edo, though perhaps that wasn’t the best word to describe your sluggish pace on account of all the items in your basket. You were not physically strong as Gabimaru, but you could compartmentalize your own suffering if it meant to treat others who needed someone with your skills, someone whose survival - and worth - was tied to her usefulness.

The old fox summoned Yui back to the main house. His excuse was that she had been away long enough to help you get settled into your new home, and no, it could not wait until after lunch. That was all the masked shinobi would tell you. Yui, gentle Yui, promised to come back and visit you soon as they led her away, suddenly making the food you had brought back seem like a waste. Perhaps you could rub some salt onto the fish so it wouldn’t spoil? Surely there was some stored away in the kitchen.

You blinked. Salt, rice, and daikon. If you had everything, then you could make yourself some rice porridge. The meal would tide you over for the rest of the afternoon, allowing you to focus on the housework and preparing the next batch of medicine to make. Dinner was another matter to worry about later, if you would even be hungry by then.

“I’m home.”

You froze. The knife in your hand stilled, angled against the wooden cutting board and barely grazing the daikon you were about to slice up into tiny pieces while the rice was being boiled over the firepit. You looked over your shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of Gabimaru stepping over the tatami mats with his mud-caked sandals on. You inhaled through your nose and exhaled through the mouth before you placed the knife down and turned around, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“Welcome back, husband.” You smiled, hoping that your expression was convincing enough that you were happy to see him and not lamenting just how much time it would take to get the dirt out of the mats, or worse, if he had tracked it to other rooms besides the kitchen. The old man raised your husband to be less than human and more like a weapon to be used at his beck and call, you silly girl. A voice chided in the back of your mind. It’s all right to be annoyed, but there’s no reason to be angry with him.

As much as you wished to deny the existence of a consciousness without physical evidence to prove this theory, deep down you knew it was true.

Perhaps instead of going on a walk with him in the morning or cooking a meal together as Yui had suggested that the two of you do when he returned from his mission, you could teach him other things. Like how to remember to leave outside shoes by the door, and to show gratitude for every meal. Things that a normal couple would do. Or would Yui say the opposite and scold you for thinking like that at all? You inwardly groaned. You had no idea what you were doing.

But for the sake of this arranged marriage, to have an amiable relationship with your husband, even if it never goes beyond physical intimacy, you will try.

You were grimacing. When a wife grimaces like what you are doing now, then he, the husband, must have done something wrong. At least that was what the other shinobi muttered to each other when they talked about their wives and thought he wouldn’t pay any attention to what they said. But Gabimaru the Hollow sees and hears everything because that is part of his job. Listen, observe, and report. Kill if necessary.

But he was not on a mission - he had finally come to his wife and you were not happy with him. Why though? He looked around. Nothing seemed out of place in this new house. In fact, everything seemed cozy. Was that even the right word? Or was it comfortable? The house was clean too, except there was a trail of mud behind him -

Oh. Oh. That was why you were grimacing.

Gabimaru felt his ears burn. “I’m sorry.” He stuttered, leaning forward and quickly unlaced the strings of his sandals. “I didn’t mean to make the floors dirty. I wasn’t trying to make you angry. I just…wanted to hurry back to your side.” He looked at you sheepishly. “Can we still have lunch together?”

taglist: @queenofspades403 @craftnkittn @ladydoe8 @dissociativewriter @honeycola-umbra @anothergojostan @fanboilingwriter @star-director9 @who-is-ralx @kawaistrawberry21 @flattykawa8

[acaffeinated-constellation]

The Shinobi's Apothecary 🪴 - prologue

warnings: arranged marriage, reincarnation, possible historical inaccuracies, references to drugs and alcohol, mention of prostitution, canon divergence, murder, gore, maomao!reader.

* Gabimaru and the reader are both sixteen in this fic, which was seen as the appropriate age to marry in the Edo period, references include historical articles and a fascinating essay about the different types of arranged marriages of Edo Japan discovered by @kazenofuji on here. Sadly, the source no longer exists. I will leave the article to that link here if anyone is interested in reading it.

author notes: hello everyone, we’re finally here~! A new fic to start off 2026, and it is the official release of The Shinobi’s Apothecary~! Last November I had posted a preview, and I went on to write an incredibly messy, unpolished draft of 13k in a week 😆 I am still doing edits with the help of the incredibly talented @jinwoosbabyboo, so I will post the chapters that are sitting in the drafts folder, the rest will take more time~.

If you would like to be tagged for this series, comment with a 🌿~.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics. Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.

Series Masterlist

You were born through a union between the village chief and his fifth accessory wife, a strategic arrangement designed to strengthen Iwagakure. There was no love lost even after she had died in labor because nothing mattered more to the wretched old man than ensuring that the village was never in short supply of children, potential candidates to become shinobi under his command even when their chances of surviving the screening selection were one out of ten.

And you? You had your memories; not just the current ones in this life, but also the ones from your first life as an imperial apothecary, which was impossible since death normally wipes memories before reincarnation. Or so that’s what the monks who passed through the village preached to passersby so that they could reach the capital. No matter what the supernatural or religious texts said about reincarnation and death, being someone of low birth had a few perks; for one, it made your job easier, blending in with the crowd as you traveled through the pleasure district of Yoshiwara to deliver medicine requested by the brothel owners. An unremarkable person with an unremarkable face; someone who would rarely be targeted by men who were not sexually satisfied.

But where there are beautiful flowers that bloom at night, there are clients who wish for a taste of them and alcohol. Clients with loose tongues are more susceptible to telling their companions interesting stories. Stories that bounce off the walls and possess information that the village chief might use to his advantage, whether it is to blackmail a magistrate or to kill one. Information that you would report directly to him at the end of each day when you returned to the mountains. Fail, and you would be married off and used as a breeding horse. Those were the terms of your contract with the man responsible for your birth. As much as you despised the way he had twisted your circumstances as a pleasure district apothecary, you had no other choice, no chance to live a normal life outside of Iwagakure.

And for a while, you were fine. You woke up early every morning to tend to the fields and worked in a building separate from the main house, where you lived with the chief as per the custom of an unmarried woman. The only other person who wasn’t married was Yui, the chief’s eighth daughter and your older sister by four months. She would have made a wonderful wife for someone, but no one wanted to be tied down to a woman with a burn mark on her face. You disagreed and hoped that the honored guest who would visit your house today would be the one to take Yui away from a birdcage filled with servants and twenty other half-sisters; yourself included. You knew she would put up a fight, tell the chief that someone needed to make sure you didn’t get too carried away with your experiments.

Yui was the only one in the family who could replicate your recipe for an emetic agent that expels toxins from the stomach without losing her own nerve, amongst the other talents she possessed. You didn’t want her to worry about you, or to get involved any further in the art of medicine. She loved to help people, but you knew the lawlessness and dangers of the pleasure district beneath its dazzling lights.

A life of studying medicine is the only life you knew, and one you can claim that is yours.

taglist: @craftnkittn @pa1nrema1ns @dissociativewriter @honeycola-umbra @ssaischilling @anothergojostan @fanboilingwriter @star-director9 @ladydoe8 @who-is-ralx