Harano and Ah Man chatted all night, getting a feel for the basic situation of the major families in Owari Province, and even got their hands on a "Middle Ages Owari Province and Surrounding Regions Map"—the proportions were totally off, the mountains, rivers and cities were mostly in the wrong place, but it had all the place names you'd expect.
Ah Man rambled on for hours, talking till her mouth went dry, and figured that was enough to pay back for his braised chicken and white rice. She tucked herself in, patted her belly, went to sleep, and started snoring away in blissful satisfaction. Harano, on the other hand, spent a while longer staring at the familiar and strange cities, family names, and Family Crests on the map, trying to remember relevant historical info and labeling everything with pinyin.
A good memory can't beat a bad pen—better jot things down while it's fresh, or after a while he might forget. If he died from forgetting something important, that'd just be the dumbest way to go.
When it got late and he couldn't remember anything else, he finally blew out the lamp and tried to rest. But with so much info crammed in his head and faced with a Japan's Warring States that was nothing like he expected, he just couldn't fall asleep—his mind was all over the place.
The bits of history he knew and everything Ah Man told him just didn't match up at all!
In this chaotic, ridiculous era, could a foreigner like him really survive?
He was on the verge of an existential crisis—his "transmigrator's superiority complex" starting to waver—when suddenly Ah Man shouted, "Who's there!?"
Immediately, the pitch-black dirt hut exploded with the sounds of fists and kicks, blocks and hits, stifled grunts, and the sharp cry of some animal—it was total chaos in an instant.
Harano instinctively rolled over to his dumb son, Meng Ziqi, grabbing the flare gun and Electric Stick from under the covers as he went, and his rambling thoughts all switched to "WTF!"
He was truly at a loss. All he'd done was exchange a little over ten strings of copper coins—using modern rice prices and currency, that's barely two or three thousand RMB. That's not pocket change, sure, but it's not some insane fortune—was it really enough to attract thieves two nights in a row?
Before he could finish ranting in his head or figure out how to help in the pitch dark, the scuffle at the edge of the hut had already ended in seconds. In the darkness, Ah Man let out a screech—as if she'd just taken a hard hit—then with a loud "thud" fell silent. Probably got beaten and started playing dead again.
Harano's eyes went sharp—no more hesitation. Using just his ears, he was about to fire toward the intruder's general direction—at the very least, he wanted to stop them going after Ah Man, maybe draw attention so she could sneak attack for a comeback. But just as he raised the gun, a chilly, hesitant voice called out in the darkness: "Sister?"
There was a beat of silence, then Ah Man's whiny, resentful voice: "Damn it, no wonder it felt like some critter was scratching me—so it was you… argh, my eye… it hurts like hell! Damn you, and you still got the nerve to call me sister? You've got some nerve now, hitting me and all… Can't believe I saved you back then—should've saved a dung beetle instead…"
After another pause, the intruder finally replied, "You kicked me first, sister."
"How was I supposed to kick you if you weren't creeping up on me? And anyway, I didn't even hit you—look at what you did to me…"
The intruder fell silent again, clearly not interested in arguing. Only Ah Man's grumbling and nags kept going, endlessly accusing the intruder of being heartless—worse than a dung beetle.
Harano pulled out his tinder and lit the oil lamp. Now he could see: Ah Man had fallen from the bed to the floor, covered in dust, hair looking like something had dug through it, and one eye sporting a lovely black eye—she looked absolutely pitiful. Standing at the edge of what used to be her sleeping spot was a stranger—a little girl with a red-eyed monkey perched on her shoulder.
The strange little girl instinctively turned to face him when the light came on, face blank, eyes icy and sharp, hand on the Shuriken at her waist. She bent low into a fighting stance, while the monkey on her shoulder bared its fangs at Harano, looking like it could spring over and turn his own head into a bird's nest at any second.
"Alright, alright, enough with the tension," Ah Man scrambled back onto the bed, covering her black eye and groaning. "We're all family here, so knock it off—if we keep fighting, I'm the only one getting the short end!"
She'd actually had a pretty good day today—lucked out, didn't get killed during the bandit double-cross, even scored fatty chicken and rice and some Ming Country tea. Who'd have thought she'd get jumped again in the middle of the night and almost lose an eye? Talk about tough luck for eight generations straight.
While she sat there wailing and complaining, the little girl did as she was told, slowly relaxing her stance, dropping her gaze, and not staring at Harano anymore. The monkey on her shoulder also settled down, but its big round eyes stayed fixed curiously on Harano—it looked like a Japanese macaque, white fur, red face, short tail, probably only about sixteen pounds or so.
Ah Man sat there massaging her eye for a bit, wincing and hissing, then painfully introduced everyone, "Ow… You all get acquainted. Ahem—Aqing, this is the Western Country samurai Harano… what's your full name again? Oh, Harano Saburou… Aqing, this is the Western Country Samurai Lord Harano Saburou—he just treated me to dinner, not a bad guy. And, ow, this is my little sister Aqing, and that's her little critter, Rotten-Butt."
Aqing looked about the same age as Ah Man but was a whole head taller, only thinner—even skinnier than Ah Man, who wasn't chubby to begin with. Aqing looked downright delicate and slender.