Kaminari sat at the window in her kitchen. She could see her reflection in the window. A small peach furred Pegasus mare with a crimson red mane and tail that were always a mess, and cool grey eyes that held red eyeshadow above her eyelids. Her cutiemark that of a calligraphy “6.” She looked down at her tea. Its deep brown sweet swirling mass. It was never as good as bancha or hojicha, but it sufficed for her. Black tea was always so common here. It was a rarity in Kyoto. Almost impossible to get unless you lived near the docks. Thoughts of home began to spring up. Smells, sights, tastes. They were nice. Almost, cozy in the thought of them. Like a soothing blanket or song a mother would sing to her foal.
She could remember the monastery where the whole of her clan resided. A large rectangular structure of compartmentalised rooms all connected, surrounding a large grassy natural courtyard. Sounds flooded her ears, not from outside, but within her. Memories. The sound of oji Daito hammering away at metal in his forge. The rhythmic clank of his hammer making contact with whatever masterpiece he crafted. Her room was right next to his. He was quiet. She liked that about him. She could remember his gravely voice when he spoke. Like he was wise. He did not speak often, but when he did all other noise would cease. He spoke calmly and always said something ever so heartfelt. His sapphire blue eyes adding to the words, as though they were a background chorus of their own; complimenting the words that he uttered. His orange coat giving some down to Earth feeling about him. Many days she would spend learning by his side, assisting with his craft. Eventually making her way to craft katana like the blacksmiths of old. Japonies steel folded one thousand times.
More memories started to follow as she took her first sip of the sweet, hot concoction. She remembered when she was first introduced to tea by her oba Shizuka. She was a nice mare. The closest thing she had to a mother. She did not talk much either, her name preceding her. She first introduced her to houjicha. Something that grew on her as she would spend evenings with her oba, listening and looking out at the courtyard. She herself did not like to speak much either. Even now as an adult it seemed to perplex her. Ponish did not come easily, and no ponies here could speak Japonies.
She took another sip of her tea, thinking about how different it was here. It was so so different here. Ponies bumped hooves or hugged instead of bowing. Things were a lot quieter and slower here in Equestria. Ponies moving at their own pace, freely going and coming as they please. Not many warriors either. It was common to pass by samurai constantly. Here, the lack of guards, ironically, gave this place a far safer feeling than if there were to be any of the western gilded officers. She let the thoughts of guards sink in for a moment. Let it churn. A majority were male. It always struck Kaminari as odd that it was “toppsy turvy” as her aquatience Pinkie would say. In order to be a samurai you had to be a girl. No acceptions.
Everything seemed a little more equal here. Though females were still dominant, males were still allowed some power. She looked out the window once again to see Applejack, a mare she had become good friends with, talking with the mailmare. She liked her. She was the second pony to welcome her to this place aside from Pinkie of course. She did it calmly. That is what Kaminari liked. The levelheadedness of Applejack. Even getting compliments from her was nice. She once remembered Applejack saying that “You’re one of the only Pegasi Ah know that’ll actually put some elbow grease into her work. I reckon you’d be tougher than the Pegasi in Cloudsdale.” She remembered giving the farmer a giggle and blush. She remembered helping her buck apples for hours. She did not like being like the other Pegasi. Pushing clouds. Something about hard work was comforting. Putting in effort instead of sleeping half the day away.
Some of the more rough memories began to be triggered. She rubbed away a pain in her hoof before taking another sip of tea. She would spend hours hitting trees till her hooves became raw, earning her calisus. Kaminari would spend hours training till she collapsed from exhaustion. Only getting back up again and starting her routine over again. Her childhood was not much, but it was what she had. The rest of her clan all had skills and strengths ranging from blacksmiths and samurai, to writers and even singers. She never understood her purpose. Why she had that cutiemark. What it even meant. She took another sip of tea. A long one this time to let the memories pass along with the liquid. She let out a discontent sigh. “あたしはここで何をしているんだるう？” She asked herself, letting the question pass along with her feelings too. She looked back down at the half full cup. With a sigh she looked at the cardboard boxes near her door.
All she could do was stare at the cup. Its outward lip crowned with a ring of gold and laced with painted branches about the sides of the cup. Kaminari let go of the cup and pushed it away. She removed herself from the counter and opened the door. Applejack, waiting for her with a cart, smiled. Kaminari smiled back, tied her nodachi to her waist, and began to load the boxes onto the two carts, and strapped herself to one as they made their way to Sweet Apple Acres' barn. Her new living space. Cozy. Calm. A place where she could work and be at peace from others. Applejack was her one friend. Her only friend here. Her new home was here.