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The crisis of Junjie and Natsuko's elopement behind him as much as it could be, Yuudai had tried to settle back into a regular routine. Things were slightly different around the house now that one of his younger sisters was married; after packing all of her things and helping move her into her new home, Yuudai had found that he felt strangely empty passing by her room. She was so young to be married, so silly and empty-headed... it was impossible for him to imagine her cooking and singing in the kitchen, eventually becoming a mother to Junjie's children, growing old beside her husband. She would forever be the sweet-faced sixteen year-old girl that lived to aggravate him, who flirted with all the attractive men and sometimes flung dishes at him from across the kitchen. Natsuko, a wife... it was too much for him to comprehend at once.

Still, there were things to tend. Even in the wake of a crisis there were customers at the ryokan, routines to be followed, chores to slog through. It was worse, actually, now that she was married, because it meant that they were short a fairly reliable pair of hands to ease the burden of running the inn. They were managing, of course, near seamlessly in the eyes of the customers, and that was what was important. Yuudai picked up as much of the slack as was humanly possible, and considering the amount of work he already did around the inn, this was impressive.

It was more impressive because his everything still hurt after his brawl with Jianyu.

It was with great dignity that he forced himself not to limp his way to the market. His clothes were clean and freshly starched, his hair pulled back into its habitual tail atop his head, but it was an unfamiliar face that greeted the vendors that day. Bruises littered it, a healthy one ringing one eye in sickly purple hues, another gracing his mouth and the curve of his jaw. His bangs fanned out and did their best to hide the self-inflicted bruise (headbutting, as it turned out, was super effective against both parties of the fight), but it was obvious that he had been through near hell and back. They couldn't see the horrific bruises over his ribs and back, as they were covered in his clothing, but it was apparent enough by the way he was careful to walk a fair distance from the other patrons of the market, how he winced whenever someone accidentally jostled him.

He was healing, but he was in a world of pain. And he was more than slightly pissed about it. Thus far, he'd gotten away with vague explanations as to what had happened -- he hardly wanted people gossiping about the fact that he'd brawled with his brand new brother-in-law upon hearing the news of his sister's hasty marriage. The sooner the novelty of Junjie and Natsuko's nuptials wore off, the better, and so he was being as tight-lipped as possible about the entire scenario.

Turning a corner, he scowled when he saw his usual vendor's stall was full up. He had no patience that day, not with the way his body still ached, and he hardly wanted to wade through a group of pushy customers to get at the wares of the day. He automatically turned on his heel, wincing when the abrupt movement made pain sing out over his ribs, and headed toward the nearest stall.

The fact that one of the workers was getting clubbed over the head as he approached didn't exactly recommend the vendors, but it did make Yuudai feel a little bit less sorry for himself.

"Pardon me," he said, wincing when speaking caused his lip to split open again. Fresh blood immediately welled up and he sighed, bringing two fingers up to gingerly push on the wound. His voice was obviously irritated when he asked, "What is your asking price on the marlin?"

Apparently, he was going to stand there and pretend he wasn't bleeding from wounds that made him look like death warmed over.

Apparently.

Perhaps there was a reason this boy had been hit over the head mere moments ago.

Light blue eyebrows slowly hitching upward, Yuudai stared at the other young man for a long moment, largely unmoving except to shift his fingers slightly to attempt to stem the tide of blood. Of every injury on his body, the cut to his lip had to be one of the smallest, which of course meant that it was giving him the most trouble. It was like when he was cooking and he nicked the skin between his fingers; it was hardly a devastating injury, but it bled and bled and often hurt far longer than some of the blows he'd been dealt on the battlefield. Ridiculous, but there was very little he could do about it.

When it seemed that the redhead wasn't going to answer his question, that he was in fact quite content to just point out the obvious fact that he was bleeding. He wasn't, you know, offering anything to help staunch the flow, wasn't trying to be helpful in any way: he was just stating the obvious.

Charming.

Doing his best to sound patient even though he felt much more inclined to snap, Yuudai took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. "Yes. It hurts. Not as much as it did yesterday, however, and so we must accept life's small blessings."

He brought his hand forward, frowning at the blood slicking his fingertips, and resigned himself to dirtying his freshly laundered clothing. He pulled one sleeve up over his hand with some reluctance, pressing the heel of it against his lip with vague annoyance, careful to curl his fingers so that he could still talk and be mostly understood.

"The marlin," he prompted, nodding toward the fish that the young man had just set aside. Honestly, all he wanted to do was buy some damn fish and go home; dazzling some redheaded child with gruesome stories about his war wounds was not high on his list of things to do that afternoon.

On another day, perhaps. Yuudai tried to make friends where he could, after all. He just thought it was a little bit obvious that he was here for fish, not small talk. Then again, one could never escape the market without exchanging a little pleasant conversation along with currency, so he might as well resign himself to it.

Sigh.