Two days later, Maomao and the others finally set off to return to the capital.
They first saw Ukeyagi off as he departed, but for some reason, he seemed to have lost some of his vigor compared to when they had first met.
It was none of Maomao's concern, so she didn't give it much thought and went about exploring the town.
Using the money she had swindled from Ranhan, she stocked up on items that were hard to find elsewhere.
Maomao had been dreading being jostled in a carriage once more on the way back, but apparently they'd be taking a different route home. They traveled along a different path from before, and what they arrived at was near a river.
"I'm thinking we'll head back by boat."
According to Ranhan, this was the rainy season upstream, so water levels were higher than usual and they could sail on larger boats. However, once the dry season arrived, the water could sometimes dry up entirely.
In terms of distance, it was a longer detour than going by horse, but since they'd be traveling downstream, they wouldn't need to switch horses or stop to rest — they could keep moving without interruption. The seasonal winds would also work in their favor, reportedly giving them quite good speed.
Conversely, on the way here the route was longer, they had to go upstream against the current, and the wind blew against them, so traveling by carriage had been faster.
(A boat, huh.)
Ranhan paid the fare and boarded the boat. The passengers were all rather burly men, which was only natural since the work was mostly physical labor. They had guards with them too, so he'd like to believe they wouldn't go so far as to strip them down and sink them to the riverbed.
Seeing the look in Maomao's eyes, Rikuson, who was standing beside her, laughed.
"This boat belongs to one of Master Ranhan's business partners."
"..."
In other words, there was nothing suspicious about it, so she could rest easy.
Maomao reluctantly boarded the boat.
"Hey, you don't happen to have anything for seasickness, do you?"
Clutching a bucket with a deathly pale face was Ranhan.
A short distance away, Rikuson wore an equally sickly expression.
The location was a small cabin. There were only two on this ship, and the other passengers who had boarded each wore blue faces.
"You threw up, so that's the end of it."
I had gone to the trouble of handing it over, but he'd already thrown it up. The medicine hadn't even had time to work.
I had prepared motion sickness pills in advance, thinking about the carriage travel, but I never expected to use them here.
The idea was that because we could keep moving we'd arrive sooner — but that also meant being tossed around the entire time.
He'd been fine in the carriage, but the ship was no good.
(That's understandable enough.)
Maomao tilted her body along with the rocking of the ship.
In a river where the water level rose suddenly, flash floods were hardly uncommon. In other words, the waters were rough.
"Whooooa!"
This time Maomao leaned her body the other way. The cabin was frankly filled with the stench of vomit, making her feel ill. She wanted to leave the cabin, but she'd been told not to leave on her own, because she could be tossed around on the deck and fall into the river. That sort of danger existed too.
"Why don't you get sick?!"
Ranhan said resentfully.
"Maybe it's because I don't get drunk on alcohol either?"
Maomao's complexion hadn't changed at all, and Ranhan glared at her in frustration. This man, if anything, did not hold his liquor well.
The ship headed downstream, and once the river widened, they would transfer to a larger vessel. By repeating this several times, they would eventually flow out into the great river. They would have to do this a number of times before reaching their destination.
"I'm never riding a ship again!" Ranhan declared with a haggard look, but they were unable to procure a suitable carriage along the way, and so they had no choice but to keep transferring between ships.
It was just as they were about to board the third ship.
There was a heavy thud.
Wondering what had happened, they looked to find a person collapsed at the dock.
A crew member, looking puzzled, lifted the fallen figure. The unconscious man was wearing a worn-out coat.
"Hey, buddy, you all right?"
When the crew member turned the man's face upward, he let out a startled "Ugh."
It had once been a handsome face. The high, clear bridge of the nose and willow-like eyebrows gave it away. But half of it was covered in pockmarks. If you drew a circle around the contours, the pockmarked side and the smooth side formed a yin-yang pattern.
The crew member dropped the man like a sack.
The man staggered to his feet.
"Excuse me! Could I get a ride on your ship?"
He forced a smile onto his ugly face. A pouch stuffed with gold was visible in his outstretched hand. He was still young—a man in his mid-twenties.
"Hey, you! You're not sick with some weird disease, are you?"
The crew member who had pulled him up mimed rubbing off the part of himself that had made contact.
The man, still smiling, touched his own ugly face.
"Yeah, that's right."
He nodded in understanding, then crouched down. He must have dropped it when he collapsed—at his feet lay a cloth that had fallen. The man picked it up, folded it in half into a triangle, and used it to cover half his face. At a glance, it looked like an eyepatch.
"I know what that is.
Smallpox, isn't it! That's what that is!"
Smallpox—a terrible disease that produces pustules all over the body. It was said to be capable of wiping out entire nations. Its infectiousness was extreme, and it could even spread through the coughs and sneezes of the afflicted.
The man grinned vacantly and scratched at his face.
"Haha, it's totally fine! These are just scars. I caught it once, but look—I'm perfectly healthy now! See, see!"
"What are you talking about! You just collapsed a moment ago! Don't come any closer!"
At the crew member's words, the others nearby also kept their distance from the man.
Maomao narrowed her eyes.
"What's going on?"
The one who had boarded the ship first— Rikuson— came over to ask. He'd apparently been carrying luggage. Truly diligent.
She'd just call him Gaoshun Number Two from now on.
"The one-eyed man wants to board the ship, but the sailors are refusing him because they think he's sick."
When she answered concisely, Rikuson looked at the young man and went, "Huh." If he could just cover up his smallpox scars, he'd actually be quite the looker. His manner of speaking was also surprisingly casual for his appearance.
"Is there some issue? Is he trying to board without paying?"
"He seems to have money, but he's got pockmarks on his face, and the sailors suspect it might be a disease."
Rikuson narrowed his eyes.
"Is it really a disease?"
"Hmm."
It was hard to tell from a distance. The pockmarks were visible, but there was no sign of infection. The young man was probably telling the truth. Even if he had been sick at some point, a long time must have already passed since then.
If that was the case, then why not just tell the sailors so?
(It'd be a pain to get involved.)
That was all there was to it.
But the man showed no signs of giving up on boarding. He clung to a sailor, pleading.
"Come on, please! Let me on! This is so unfair!"
"Let go! Stop it—your pockmarks are gonna spread to me!"
"How cruel! That's discrimination! I'm perfectly healthy, as you can see!"
Normally, a handsome man with facial scars would carry some air of mystery, but that clearly didn't apply to this guy. He was latched onto the sailor's thick leg and refusing to let go.
The other sailors wanted to help their comrade but stood at a distance, watching warily—they weren't about to risk catching some strange disease.
If this kept up, the ship would never depart.
Rikuson seemed to read the look on Maomao's face and gave a slight smile.
"We'd like to set sail soon, you know."
"..."
When she looked up at the deck, Raban was waiting with a barrel slung over his shoulder, gazing at the blue sky. It seemed they hadn't been able to acquire horses at this dock either.
With an annoyed look, Maomao descended the gangplank and stood before the eyepatch-wearing man—who was still clinging to the sailor with snot dripping from his nose—and the visibly exasperated sailor.
"Excuse me."
"Huh?"
Maomao gave a response that could hardly be called an acknowledgment as she took the man's towel.
The ugly pockmarks, she could tell at a glance, had been there for many years. Looking at the eye on the scarred side, the focus seemed off. The pupils were different sizes. He might have lost sight in one eye.
"This man doesn't have a contagious illness. The marks remain, but he shouldn't transmit anything to others."
At least when it came to smallpox.
If he had something else, she wouldn't know.
"..."
The sailor made a thoroughly disgusted face as he pinched the money pouch the man had dropped with his fingertips. When he turned it upside down, coins clattered down.
"How far are you going?"
"I want to go to the capital! The capital, the capital!"
He had the air of a complete country bumpkin, pumping both fists up and down.
"And then I'm going to make all sorts of medicines!"
"Medicines?"
It was Maomao who reacted to the man's words.
"Oh yeah, I'm actually really impressive despite how I look!"
Saying that, he pulled a large bag from inside his filthy coat. When he spread the opening wide, a peculiar smell wafted out.
Maomao picked up a ceramic container from inside. When she opened the lid, it contained ointment.
She didn't know how effective it was, but the preparation was remarkably meticulous. The medicinal herbs had been ground evenly, and the consistency was just the right firmness. Not just the combination of herbs, but the fact that someone took such care in making it meant the quality would be consistent.
Maomao looked at the man again.
The man was grinning as he offered it to the sailor in front of him: "How about this medicine? It's great for seasickness!" The sailor, naturally, had no intention of buying such a thing.
"Cheapskate. You could at least buy some."
When the man handed over the money to the sailor, he was finally allowed aboard.
Then he looked at Maomao and gave a warm smile.
"Thanks, was that a big help? As a thank-you for the seasickness remedy, I'll give you some—"
His speech was so childlike that it clashed badly with his appearance.
"No thanks, I don't get seasick, so I don't need it."
"Oh, really? That's a shame."
As the man was about to put the medicine away, a loud voice called out from behind: "Wait!!"
And then, Raohan came running from the ship at incredible speed.
"Give me the... seasick... medicine..."
Raohan said, out of breath.
(He heard me pretty well after all.)
Maomao thought that to herself as she headed back to the ship.