WARRiOR (Akatsuki no Yona Fanfic)

7. He Changes

As a girl, Noo-ri lived his life reserved and holding onto the comment sense of a girl.

If you wore a skirt, you don't climb trees. The fabric would get in the way anyways, and most definitely your arms wouldn't be strong enough. The loose sleeves would be a menace. If you got too many scratches on your hands, it would impede your work.

No one wanted blood-stained clothing or foods, after all.

In his past life, climbing trees were drill number one of Shuten's faction. They spent weeks simply climbing trees until they could do it in their sleep, to prepare for ambushes and scouts. It was second nature to him, but he had to hold back on it as a girl.

But now, he was no longer tied to girlhood. He was no longer bound by gender borders. Now he lived in the forest-- so he had to act like a man even if he didn't want to, simply to survive.

And he loved it.

He hiked up his skirt, baring his pale thighs. How vulgar, but who was there to see? He tugged his sleeves to his shoulder. How uncouth, but did it matter?

The heat can burn him. The wood can scale his skin, and he would be perfectly fine with it.

He did not care for injuries. He did not need to care for scars and wounds anymore.

He was free.

Looking out into the world as if it was his first time realizing that fact, a smile bloomed onto his face and he laughed.

-

Taking his blade and gathering his hair into a ponytail, he leaned the blade into the bundle and lopped it right off.

He could still tie the top half of it, so it wouldn't look too much like an explosion of curls, but it was much less of a hassle now. It was messy and needed trimming, but he would take what he got.

He grasped a handful of fallen hair, when he realized something.

His hair was brown.

It was a peculiar shade. it was dark enough to pass for black, but when he looked closer into each lock in his hands, it was undeniably brown. He had never noticed, it was a small but visible difference.

Had everyone else around him noticed this too? Then they would be able to track him if they found this bundle of hair. After all, it was a discernible trait.

His clothes, too. He would have to find the first place he could to change out of them, at least the colours. But they would recognize his face.

He can't afford to have people recognize him before he reached Wind Lands.

So he took his dagger, stood over the river-- he pointed the blade to his face and took a deep breath.

He had just enough clean cloth left over to bind a wound, after all.

-

Being a rogue was easy when you had the memories of a soldier drilled into survival. It was tough to avoid the fire tribe civilians when he wandered too near a village, and his clothes inevitably stank, but he lived frugally for a few weeks without too much trouble.