Introduction
This was a beautiful roleplay that died because of some unforeseen circumstances. Now, this will serve as my sandbox, or a storage of sorts. All information placed in here is of my own intellect and should not be replicated for any other purposes unless asked, first. I shall also share this storage with others, if they so desire. All you need do is ask, and I will allow you permission to store characters here, too. But please ask first.
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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 4 authors
"He who chooses the beginning of the road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determines the end." - Henry Emerson Fosdick
A pale hand extended outwards, its fingers slightly curled in towards the palm. With a harsh caw, the incoming crow alighted on the proffered wrist, wrapping its talons with surprising gentleness around the delicate limb. Kohaku drew the creature back to her, using her other hand to stroke its glossy, dark feathers for a moment before she moved to its leg, removing the small tube tied to it and handing it off to the dark-haired hanyō standing to her immediate left.
"What does Tachibana say?” Her inquiry was delivered quietly, but with the slight steel thread of authority, as though not providing her an answer simply wasn’t an option. Not that she really thought it necessary—it was simply natural.
The strikingly-beautiful man holding the message scanned over it for a moment, then dropped it, slicing it with several precise blades of air on the way down, scattering the miniscule pieces to the winds. “He’s secured us places at a temple just outside Edo. The old priest recently died, and they’ve been having some trouble keeping up with the demands for their services. They were only too happy to receive a few new monks and a priestess.” A slight smile quirked his lip, and Kohaku nodded thoughtfully.
"Thank you, Suzumori.” Transferring the crow to her shoulder, Kohaku started forwards, the other three trailing in her wake, as they usually did. To her left was Suzumori, with Morimoto to her right and Inoue acting as rear guard. It was a loose formation, and didn’t look like a team of excellently-trained bodyguards protecting their charge, but this was on purpose. All of them were dressed modestly, in garments belonging to monks and shrine maidens, itinerant religious folk who would draw little to no notice passing through a place. Disguise was important for this purpose, after all—she had no doubt that if she’d entered these lands as herself, Yōichirō would have sent people to kill her already.
He was that far gone, now.
“And what’s the plan when we’re there, Jōcchan?” The question came from the second of her followers, Morimoto. He was the tallest of the party, edging out Inoue by a few inches. At present, his rather bright red hair was darkened with a temporary dye so that it was an umber brown instead, but it was still worn the same way—a messy topknot with an entirely unnecessary braid in one side, the whole mass fluttering like a pennant in the slight breeze coming from the direction of their destination. He carried a shakujō staff, mostly for show, the rings on it jingling faintly every time he set the butt of it against the ground. They day was clear, and surprisingly warm for this time of year, but it made their travel swifter, and they were all glad of that.
He knew the general gist of the plan, of course—they all did. But it was just like him to ask her, to pry for more details and try and keep Kohaku from spending too much time in her own head. She wasn’t sure whether she was grateful for that or just annoyed; which feeling won out tended to fluctuate with her mood. As they walked, she answered.
"Well, it’s going to take a bit of time to establish our cover, but once it seems secure enough, we’ll need to familiarize ourselves with the people in town, and get a feel for the yakuza activity. We can’t just march up there and deal with Yōichirō, you know that.” What was more, Kohaku wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to, but this was not an insecurity she chose to share. All of these men were the people she trusted more than anyone else, and Akira Morimoto was first among even them. But there were many things Kohaku felt she could not say.
"We need an opportunity. Something that will give us a chance to tip the scales in our favor.” Her ambitions may have been towering, but her ego was far from it. Kohaku was not so arrogant as to believe that she could achieve her goals with ease, but she was confident enough to believe that, with intelligent planning and the right people at her side, she could achieve them. She would unite this country. She would rule Nippon.
“So long as I don’t have to pretend to be a monk the whole time,” Akira mused. It might have been a simple complaint about the guise, but they both knew that neither his appearance nor his temperament was really suited for the ploy. The other two could pass well enough—Kaoru could pass as anything—but he just didn’t look like a monk or a priest, even supposing he could curb himself and act like one for long enough.
“Actually, I might have an idea about that.” Kaoru broke into the conversation easily, his voice as smooth and ambiguous as the rest of him. “You would, perhaps, make a poor monk, but there are other guises you might take on, ones that are truer to type, perhaps.” There was a subtle touch of mockery in the hanyō’s tone, one that was long familiar to Kohaku. Just because she trusted them all didn’t mean their temperaments were perfectly harmonious, after all.
Before Akira could respond and start another round of verbal ninjutsu, she broke in. "What do you suggest, Suzumori?”
He smiled thinly. “The yakuza are well known to run dens for everything from opium to gambling. What is more common in such places than ronin and common mercenaries down on their luck and looking to find favor with fortune?”
He had a point. Among Akira’s less reputable skills were definitely things like gambling and smoking—and he was known to maintain that the latter was definitely a skill. It wouldn’t even be a problem if he were to be more flashy as a mercenary or ronin; such people were likely to play things like that up in order to have a better chance of being noticed and therefore hired. It also wouldn’t be terribly suspicious if he slept at the temple—he’d just be another hard-bitten lowlife imposing on the generosity of the monks, probably in exchange for hard labor. As cover, it would survive most any scrutiny.
"Morimoto?” Kohaku glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
He was giving Kaoru a dirty look, but at her inquiry, he grinned. “Please, don’t strain my acting skills or anything. I suppose I could manage it. Maybe see about getting myself hired for a few yakuza gigs, huh?” He was far from the ideal spy, but that wasn’t to say he was completely hopeless.
Kohaku’s eyes narrowed at him for just a moment, a wordless warning conveyed within them. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. He, on the other hand, just grinned a little wider. “Don’t get yourself all twisted up, Jōcchan. I know what not to do. This dog is well-heeled, don’t you think?”
She didn’t. Not in a million years. She knew Akira held her in high esteem—he’d practically told her so, and he was honest to a fault, really. The least dissembling person she’d met in her entire life. But… he was still independent. His fate was, and always had been, entirely with his own control, and she held no illusions that she could keep him here if he chose to go—or keep him on her side if he chose another. She’d accepted this.
"You’re not a dog, Morimoto.” She sniffed as though mildly irritated, but the statement held a world of meaning, given their shared history. "Don’t call yourself one.”
“We’re close.” That was Inoue, breaking into the discussion for the first time. He jerked his chin forward, and Kohaku realized that she could indeed see the shrine gates looming ahead. The building at which they would be staying was no more than a mile or so outside of Edo proper, and served both the city and the surrounding countryside. A wide dirt road led from the shrine into the city, but they would have to wait before they took that. Part of Kohaku was impatient, but she knew it was more important to make sure this was done properly than to satisfy her urge to make progress as soon as possible.
"All right. According to Tachibana, they should be expecting us, so let’s not waste any time.” She started back towards the gates, her inner circle fanned out loosely behind her.
"What does Tachibana say?” Her inquiry was delivered quietly, but with the slight steel thread of authority, as though not providing her an answer simply wasn’t an option. Not that she really thought it necessary—it was simply natural.
The strikingly-beautiful man holding the message scanned over it for a moment, then dropped it, slicing it with several precise blades of air on the way down, scattering the miniscule pieces to the winds. “He’s secured us places at a temple just outside Edo. The old priest recently died, and they’ve been having some trouble keeping up with the demands for their services. They were only too happy to receive a few new monks and a priestess.” A slight smile quirked his lip, and Kohaku nodded thoughtfully.
"Thank you, Suzumori.” Transferring the crow to her shoulder, Kohaku started forwards, the other three trailing in her wake, as they usually did. To her left was Suzumori, with Morimoto to her right and Inoue acting as rear guard. It was a loose formation, and didn’t look like a team of excellently-trained bodyguards protecting their charge, but this was on purpose. All of them were dressed modestly, in garments belonging to monks and shrine maidens, itinerant religious folk who would draw little to no notice passing through a place. Disguise was important for this purpose, after all—she had no doubt that if she’d entered these lands as herself, Yōichirō would have sent people to kill her already.
He was that far gone, now.
“And what’s the plan when we’re there, Jōcchan?” The question came from the second of her followers, Morimoto. He was the tallest of the party, edging out Inoue by a few inches. At present, his rather bright red hair was darkened with a temporary dye so that it was an umber brown instead, but it was still worn the same way—a messy topknot with an entirely unnecessary braid in one side, the whole mass fluttering like a pennant in the slight breeze coming from the direction of their destination. He carried a shakujō staff, mostly for show, the rings on it jingling faintly every time he set the butt of it against the ground. They day was clear, and surprisingly warm for this time of year, but it made their travel swifter, and they were all glad of that.
He knew the general gist of the plan, of course—they all did. But it was just like him to ask her, to pry for more details and try and keep Kohaku from spending too much time in her own head. She wasn’t sure whether she was grateful for that or just annoyed; which feeling won out tended to fluctuate with her mood. As they walked, she answered.
"Well, it’s going to take a bit of time to establish our cover, but once it seems secure enough, we’ll need to familiarize ourselves with the people in town, and get a feel for the yakuza activity. We can’t just march up there and deal with Yōichirō, you know that.” What was more, Kohaku wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to, but this was not an insecurity she chose to share. All of these men were the people she trusted more than anyone else, and Akira Morimoto was first among even them. But there were many things Kohaku felt she could not say.
"We need an opportunity. Something that will give us a chance to tip the scales in our favor.” Her ambitions may have been towering, but her ego was far from it. Kohaku was not so arrogant as to believe that she could achieve her goals with ease, but she was confident enough to believe that, with intelligent planning and the right people at her side, she could achieve them. She would unite this country. She would rule Nippon.
“So long as I don’t have to pretend to be a monk the whole time,” Akira mused. It might have been a simple complaint about the guise, but they both knew that neither his appearance nor his temperament was really suited for the ploy. The other two could pass well enough—Kaoru could pass as anything—but he just didn’t look like a monk or a priest, even supposing he could curb himself and act like one for long enough.
“Actually, I might have an idea about that.” Kaoru broke into the conversation easily, his voice as smooth and ambiguous as the rest of him. “You would, perhaps, make a poor monk, but there are other guises you might take on, ones that are truer to type, perhaps.” There was a subtle touch of mockery in the hanyō’s tone, one that was long familiar to Kohaku. Just because she trusted them all didn’t mean their temperaments were perfectly harmonious, after all.
Before Akira could respond and start another round of verbal ninjutsu, she broke in. "What do you suggest, Suzumori?”
He smiled thinly. “The yakuza are well known to run dens for everything from opium to gambling. What is more common in such places than ronin and common mercenaries down on their luck and looking to find favor with fortune?”
He had a point. Among Akira’s less reputable skills were definitely things like gambling and smoking—and he was known to maintain that the latter was definitely a skill. It wouldn’t even be a problem if he were to be more flashy as a mercenary or ronin; such people were likely to play things like that up in order to have a better chance of being noticed and therefore hired. It also wouldn’t be terribly suspicious if he slept at the temple—he’d just be another hard-bitten lowlife imposing on the generosity of the monks, probably in exchange for hard labor. As cover, it would survive most any scrutiny.
"Morimoto?” Kohaku glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
He was giving Kaoru a dirty look, but at her inquiry, he grinned. “Please, don’t strain my acting skills or anything. I suppose I could manage it. Maybe see about getting myself hired for a few yakuza gigs, huh?” He was far from the ideal spy, but that wasn’t to say he was completely hopeless.
Kohaku’s eyes narrowed at him for just a moment, a wordless warning conveyed within them. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. He, on the other hand, just grinned a little wider. “Don’t get yourself all twisted up, Jōcchan. I know what not to do. This dog is well-heeled, don’t you think?”
She didn’t. Not in a million years. She knew Akira held her in high esteem—he’d practically told her so, and he was honest to a fault, really. The least dissembling person she’d met in her entire life. But… he was still independent. His fate was, and always had been, entirely with his own control, and she held no illusions that she could keep him here if he chose to go—or keep him on her side if he chose another. She’d accepted this.
"You’re not a dog, Morimoto.” She sniffed as though mildly irritated, but the statement held a world of meaning, given their shared history. "Don’t call yourself one.”
“We’re close.” That was Inoue, breaking into the discussion for the first time. He jerked his chin forward, and Kohaku realized that she could indeed see the shrine gates looming ahead. The building at which they would be staying was no more than a mile or so outside of Edo proper, and served both the city and the surrounding countryside. A wide dirt road led from the shrine into the city, but they would have to wait before they took that. Part of Kohaku was impatient, but she knew it was more important to make sure this was done properly than to satisfy her urge to make progress as soon as possible.
"All right. According to Tachibana, they should be expecting us, so let’s not waste any time.” She started back towards the gates, her inner circle fanned out loosely behind her.
The cold air kissed Chiyoko's face and the moonlight above illuminated her path, a blessing from the kami themselves. Her breathing was slow, careful. Her steps deliberate and silent. Her gaze sweeping from side to side, scrutinizing every crack and nook as she passed. Her hand remained on one of her swords with a white-knuckled grip.
It was absolutely terrifying how many cats lived in Edo. How many pairs of eerie eyes stared daggers towards her from the shadows. Chiyoko never wanted to pay them mind - for cats wandering at night were often death omens, signalling a speedy demise for whoever locked eyes with them. But now, she was carefully watching for every single one. Looking for the barest hint of uncharacteristic intelligence.
Her heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. She swore it could echo through the street, that her own fear would reveal herself. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how her own targets had felt. Maybe this was karmic justice, the deeds she had done finally returning full-circle. For she was now the prey, the Hound hunted by the Kitten, sent by the Oyabun to punish Chiyoko's betrayal.
Her destination was a small, familiar shrine. There, she could find temporary sanctuary, and maybe have her swords purified by the Shrine Maiden. A blessed weapon was said to kill or maim yokai, after all, yet Chiyoko loathed the idea of testing it. She'd fought with and against Yokai before. For many, she was hardly a match.
In the distance, a dangerous yowling broke through the quiet night, warning Chiyoko to keep on the move. If the assassin was indeed following her, then they were doing a good job keeping well out of sight, as there was no sign of where the yowling might have came from. Somehow, it seemed to come from all directions at once and none at all. Illusions of a blue eyeshine seemed to follow her, though never for a moment at a time. Perhaps it was only a trick of mind, the dim moonlight making it only seem like the eyes were following her.
All hopes that she had gone unnoticed were now dashed. Chiyoko's gaze swept from side to side, lit by fear. She wasn't too far from the shrine. Yet, she could feel a pressure. The intangible feeling that trickles down your back. A predatory gaze sizing her up for a kill. She hoped she was just being paranoid.
She cast a last glance over her shoulder as her hand found the familiar gate. Seeing nothing, she quickly inched it open, slipping inside the shrine's grounds. Her speed increased and she jogged across the paved road, heading straight for a small, brightly-painted building, expecting an arrow or dagger or any matter of weapon or mechanism to end her life... yet, as she slipped inside and closed the heavy door behind her, she found nothing of the sort. To her dismay, however, several candles were unlit - most had burned through their wicks. This shrine's keeper wasn't here.
The air lacked the sickly sweet smell of incense burning, an oddity for a shrine. What was even odder was perhaps the scent that replaced it. Heavy, choking, acrid, lingering tobacco smoke choked out anything and everything else, leaving only itself. It was also quiet, at least for the moment after Chiyoko entered the shrine. The temporary serenity was shattered soon after however by the jarring sound of something tapping against metal.
The sound revealed that she was not alone in the shrine. A blonde haired woman sat leaned back against a wall, her finger tapping against the bowl of her tobacco pipe in an attempt to expel the ash. "Ah, you're finally here," she said, looking up to Chiyoko. The dim light in the shrine gave her eyes an eerie reflective shine, and she continued to speak. "You certainly decided to take your time, didn't you?" she said, sticking the pipe into a corner of her mouth and taking a drag.
"Fortunately for you, I'm a patient one."
Chiyoko gave a sharp intake of breath, inhaling some of the acrid fumes. The smell lingered in her nose, her throat. A familiar smell, one she had gotten more than used to as a child. Her gaze snapped towards the woman’s, though wasn't it supposed to be a death omen, to lock eyes with a cat?
“Well… being marked for death makes one a bit careful. Want to take their time, you know?” Chiyoko replied, “I'm sure you of all people know, the faster someone runs, the easier they are to follow.”
“Though I don’t think that would've mattered. You already knew where I was going.” Slow, surprisingly steady hands found one of Chiyoko’s swords. A metallic ring echoed through the thick walls as she drew the short blade, the subtle carvings upon it’s length seeming to glimmer with the pale light.
"Hm, fair enough," the woman agreed, "though most would have tried to escape the city rather than seek shelter in a temple." If the woman was at all perturbed by the sword now undoubtedly meant for her, she didn't show it at all. She merely paused for a moment and looked the instrument up and down before inhaling another drag, this time sending the resulting plume of smoke toward Chiyoko's direction. "You know, if I truly wished you dead, then I wouldn't have waited for you to draw your blade."
“And most would do the job they were told to do.” Chiyo retorted defensively. She gave a small flick, making a brief attempt to disperse the oncoming smoke. At the woman’s second statement, Chiyoko lowered her hands, the tip of her weapon barely skirting the ground. “Then why did you wait? I don’t think it’s because you just suddenly became a bleeding heart.”
A drawn out exaggerated sigh escaped from the woman's lips and her shoulders seemed to droop. "Not so much a bleeding heart as someone who does not wish to waste the effort for such a foolish reason." She readjusted her legs on the floor, but otherwise made no move to stand or assume a readied stance. "At this point in time I would undoubtedly have to fight you, of which I may or may not win. And if I did win, I would then have to dispose of the body somehow. Not to mention the resulting blood I would then have to clean out of my clothes and hair, which is a terribly difficult thing to do. So... You can understand my reluctance."
She sighed again and leaned back against the wall. "You've been in my position before. Hunting down the defectors who had betrayed their family. Tell me, do you have any regrets? Any thing you wished you would've done differently? Someone you wished you didn't put to the sword?" She asked, curiously watching Chiyoko.
Chiyoko gave a second, more thorough look at the woman, tilting her head somewhat. Her stance lowered, and for the moment, she seemed to calm. However her sword remained in a careful grip as she replied, giving a faint sigh, “It's a common thing for people, to wish that this or that had been done differently.”
“Back then, no. I might have doubted, but I did not regret. As you said… they were traitors.” Chiyoko carefully spoke, “Many of our loyalties were questioned. I wanted, no - needed - to prove mine. I was afraid of being branded a traitor myself, accused of not being loyal enough to do what needed to be done.”
“It did help that more than a few were degenerates. Some had stolen, some had killed their kin over petty squabbles, or other similar crimes. They were types I’d have no issue hunting even under normal circumstances. Made it much easier to justify.” She said dryly. “The others? They - they were the true Yakuza in all but name. They saw where it went wrong. They were my true family, and when they left, I didn't follow out of fear. And because of that fear, they died.”
There was a small pause, “Is that the answer you were looking for, Miu?” Chiyoko asked.
"Mm," Miu hummed, though if she was pleased or displeased with the answer it did not show on her face. "Now, do you believe they are still traitors, such as yourself. The ones who looked at themselves in the mirror and did not like what they saw. Or do you run now because you were forced to? If you had the choice, would you still remain, and continue to hunt down others like you?" With that, the woman finally rose to her feet and brushed the dust off of her clothes.
She stared at Chiyoko for a moment before she continued. "Just... Understand. The word traitor isn't so clear cut, the world we live in isn't painted in black and whites. To them, we were probably the traitors, and who's to say they weren't right?" She took the pipe out of her mouth and tapped it, ashes fluttering from the steel bowl. "Like I said, if I wanted to kill you, I would've tried it by now instead of lecturing you. But," she added with a single slender finger. "A word of warning. Leave. Quickly. Lay low and do not show your face. Next time, we'll not have this chat. I doubt you'll even see me."
With that, the woman turned to leave, but she paused mid-step. She turned back and tilted her head to the side, her pipe raising in between her lips. "For future references, an ordinary blade hurts just as much as a blessed one. A sword to the throat is a sword to the throat, no matter who's throat. Blessing or no, not much is getting up from that." That was it, Miu turned and left, leaving nothing behind but the scent of tobacco and ashes.
Chiyoko gave the exit a lingering look, sheathing her wakizashi with a metallic trill. She couldn't help but wonder what Yōichirō would be told... Miu didn't seem the sort to lie, especially not to him. She also didn't seem one for mercy, yet Chiyoko was still alive. Seemingly berated and lectured, but alive.
But would she have remained? In her current mindset, knowing what she did now, would she have stayed with the Yakuza if she could, in a universe where her uncle had not died? Of course, it was a foolish question. She would just find a way to rationalize it all again. It's what she did before.
She left the shrine a few minutes later, making a mental note to no longer trust even close friends within the Yakuza. If they had told Miu where she was going once, it would happen again. Not many are given a second chance at life. Even fewer are given a third.
It was absolutely terrifying how many cats lived in Edo. How many pairs of eerie eyes stared daggers towards her from the shadows. Chiyoko never wanted to pay them mind - for cats wandering at night were often death omens, signalling a speedy demise for whoever locked eyes with them. But now, she was carefully watching for every single one. Looking for the barest hint of uncharacteristic intelligence.
Her heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. She swore it could echo through the street, that her own fear would reveal herself. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how her own targets had felt. Maybe this was karmic justice, the deeds she had done finally returning full-circle. For she was now the prey, the Hound hunted by the Kitten, sent by the Oyabun to punish Chiyoko's betrayal.
Her destination was a small, familiar shrine. There, she could find temporary sanctuary, and maybe have her swords purified by the Shrine Maiden. A blessed weapon was said to kill or maim yokai, after all, yet Chiyoko loathed the idea of testing it. She'd fought with and against Yokai before. For many, she was hardly a match.
In the distance, a dangerous yowling broke through the quiet night, warning Chiyoko to keep on the move. If the assassin was indeed following her, then they were doing a good job keeping well out of sight, as there was no sign of where the yowling might have came from. Somehow, it seemed to come from all directions at once and none at all. Illusions of a blue eyeshine seemed to follow her, though never for a moment at a time. Perhaps it was only a trick of mind, the dim moonlight making it only seem like the eyes were following her.
All hopes that she had gone unnoticed were now dashed. Chiyoko's gaze swept from side to side, lit by fear. She wasn't too far from the shrine. Yet, she could feel a pressure. The intangible feeling that trickles down your back. A predatory gaze sizing her up for a kill. She hoped she was just being paranoid.
She cast a last glance over her shoulder as her hand found the familiar gate. Seeing nothing, she quickly inched it open, slipping inside the shrine's grounds. Her speed increased and she jogged across the paved road, heading straight for a small, brightly-painted building, expecting an arrow or dagger or any matter of weapon or mechanism to end her life... yet, as she slipped inside and closed the heavy door behind her, she found nothing of the sort. To her dismay, however, several candles were unlit - most had burned through their wicks. This shrine's keeper wasn't here.
The air lacked the sickly sweet smell of incense burning, an oddity for a shrine. What was even odder was perhaps the scent that replaced it. Heavy, choking, acrid, lingering tobacco smoke choked out anything and everything else, leaving only itself. It was also quiet, at least for the moment after Chiyoko entered the shrine. The temporary serenity was shattered soon after however by the jarring sound of something tapping against metal.
The sound revealed that she was not alone in the shrine. A blonde haired woman sat leaned back against a wall, her finger tapping against the bowl of her tobacco pipe in an attempt to expel the ash. "Ah, you're finally here," she said, looking up to Chiyoko. The dim light in the shrine gave her eyes an eerie reflective shine, and she continued to speak. "You certainly decided to take your time, didn't you?" she said, sticking the pipe into a corner of her mouth and taking a drag.
"Fortunately for you, I'm a patient one."
Chiyoko gave a sharp intake of breath, inhaling some of the acrid fumes. The smell lingered in her nose, her throat. A familiar smell, one she had gotten more than used to as a child. Her gaze snapped towards the woman’s, though wasn't it supposed to be a death omen, to lock eyes with a cat?
“Well… being marked for death makes one a bit careful. Want to take their time, you know?” Chiyoko replied, “I'm sure you of all people know, the faster someone runs, the easier they are to follow.”
“Though I don’t think that would've mattered. You already knew where I was going.” Slow, surprisingly steady hands found one of Chiyoko’s swords. A metallic ring echoed through the thick walls as she drew the short blade, the subtle carvings upon it’s length seeming to glimmer with the pale light.
"Hm, fair enough," the woman agreed, "though most would have tried to escape the city rather than seek shelter in a temple." If the woman was at all perturbed by the sword now undoubtedly meant for her, she didn't show it at all. She merely paused for a moment and looked the instrument up and down before inhaling another drag, this time sending the resulting plume of smoke toward Chiyoko's direction. "You know, if I truly wished you dead, then I wouldn't have waited for you to draw your blade."
“And most would do the job they were told to do.” Chiyo retorted defensively. She gave a small flick, making a brief attempt to disperse the oncoming smoke. At the woman’s second statement, Chiyoko lowered her hands, the tip of her weapon barely skirting the ground. “Then why did you wait? I don’t think it’s because you just suddenly became a bleeding heart.”
A drawn out exaggerated sigh escaped from the woman's lips and her shoulders seemed to droop. "Not so much a bleeding heart as someone who does not wish to waste the effort for such a foolish reason." She readjusted her legs on the floor, but otherwise made no move to stand or assume a readied stance. "At this point in time I would undoubtedly have to fight you, of which I may or may not win. And if I did win, I would then have to dispose of the body somehow. Not to mention the resulting blood I would then have to clean out of my clothes and hair, which is a terribly difficult thing to do. So... You can understand my reluctance."
She sighed again and leaned back against the wall. "You've been in my position before. Hunting down the defectors who had betrayed their family. Tell me, do you have any regrets? Any thing you wished you would've done differently? Someone you wished you didn't put to the sword?" She asked, curiously watching Chiyoko.
Chiyoko gave a second, more thorough look at the woman, tilting her head somewhat. Her stance lowered, and for the moment, she seemed to calm. However her sword remained in a careful grip as she replied, giving a faint sigh, “It's a common thing for people, to wish that this or that had been done differently.”
“Back then, no. I might have doubted, but I did not regret. As you said… they were traitors.” Chiyoko carefully spoke, “Many of our loyalties were questioned. I wanted, no - needed - to prove mine. I was afraid of being branded a traitor myself, accused of not being loyal enough to do what needed to be done.”
“It did help that more than a few were degenerates. Some had stolen, some had killed their kin over petty squabbles, or other similar crimes. They were types I’d have no issue hunting even under normal circumstances. Made it much easier to justify.” She said dryly. “The others? They - they were the true Yakuza in all but name. They saw where it went wrong. They were my true family, and when they left, I didn't follow out of fear. And because of that fear, they died.”
There was a small pause, “Is that the answer you were looking for, Miu?” Chiyoko asked.
"Mm," Miu hummed, though if she was pleased or displeased with the answer it did not show on her face. "Now, do you believe they are still traitors, such as yourself. The ones who looked at themselves in the mirror and did not like what they saw. Or do you run now because you were forced to? If you had the choice, would you still remain, and continue to hunt down others like you?" With that, the woman finally rose to her feet and brushed the dust off of her clothes.
She stared at Chiyoko for a moment before she continued. "Just... Understand. The word traitor isn't so clear cut, the world we live in isn't painted in black and whites. To them, we were probably the traitors, and who's to say they weren't right?" She took the pipe out of her mouth and tapped it, ashes fluttering from the steel bowl. "Like I said, if I wanted to kill you, I would've tried it by now instead of lecturing you. But," she added with a single slender finger. "A word of warning. Leave. Quickly. Lay low and do not show your face. Next time, we'll not have this chat. I doubt you'll even see me."
With that, the woman turned to leave, but she paused mid-step. She turned back and tilted her head to the side, her pipe raising in between her lips. "For future references, an ordinary blade hurts just as much as a blessed one. A sword to the throat is a sword to the throat, no matter who's throat. Blessing or no, not much is getting up from that." That was it, Miu turned and left, leaving nothing behind but the scent of tobacco and ashes.
Chiyoko gave the exit a lingering look, sheathing her wakizashi with a metallic trill. She couldn't help but wonder what Yōichirō would be told... Miu didn't seem the sort to lie, especially not to him. She also didn't seem one for mercy, yet Chiyoko was still alive. Seemingly berated and lectured, but alive.
But would she have remained? In her current mindset, knowing what she did now, would she have stayed with the Yakuza if she could, in a universe where her uncle had not died? Of course, it was a foolish question. She would just find a way to rationalize it all again. It's what she did before.
She left the shrine a few minutes later, making a mental note to no longer trust even close friends within the Yakuza. If they had told Miu where she was going once, it would happen again. Not many are given a second chance at life. Even fewer are given a third.
Darkness filled a small room, with the only light coming from a flickering candle. Pale green eyes stared, heavily, at a scroll, reading the contents written. Hands quivering, Yōichirō grabbed a brush, and a new scroll. The response was swift, spared no detail, and held the orders requested. This did not bode well, and if it was true, he had to push influence a lot sooner than he wanted to. The soft creak of the shoji door opening, caused every muscle in his body to clench. Fierce, golden eyes turned to the source before they retained their pale emerald shade. His eyes narrowed, glancing at the intruder as the man, cloaked in a black robe, knelled before Yōichirō.
"You summoned me, sir?" Jūbei questioned, the soft blue of his eyes—the only visible colors upon his form—peering at the back of the Oyabun. Yōichirō remained silent, his eyes focusing on Jūbei's form. Without a moment's notice, he presented the scroll to the assassin, turning his gaze back towards the empty wall in front of him. Around him lay candles—each a varied height—with only one visibly lit one. He continued to remain silent, leaving Jūbei in his spot before he finally spoke.
"Take care of this. Sekigahara has refused to leave well enough alone," he stated, turning his head to the left of his side. Jūbei took the scroll, and read the contents. A visible frown marred his face, however; he placed a closed fist into the opening of his right palm, and prepared to leave. "And one more thing," he began, peering from the corners of his eyes towards the assassin. "Find out who it is, that foolish man, has sent for me," he finished. Jūbei acknowledged his master, and left, leaving no trace that he was ever there. Yōichirō kept his eyes where they were, glued to the shoji doors that were slightly ajar.
How many times, did this make, that the daimyō of Sekigahara had tried to take his life? The man was insistent, he'll give him that, however; did he believe that Yōichirō wasn't going to retaliate? Kanetsugu was an ignorant fool if he believed that he could be so easily eliminated. "Everyone wants you dead," the thought processed quicker than Yōichirō had time to process where it came from. His eyes narrowed as he stood from his spot, gliding over towards the shoji doors. A hand rested upon the door, tilting his head slightly out of the opening, and surveyed the area.
There was nothing there.
The bustling sounds of the market place, echoed throughout the area as people searched for the items they needed. The day was warmer than usually, and many of the village people were inside one of the inn's or another. In one such inn, found the Fujiwara siblings, sitting in a damp corner to the back. The chatter inside the small restaurant was the only way they could gather information, however; it seemed that everyone was a little tight lipped. Mentioning of Yōichirō's name appeared to be a taboo of sorts, as if it would bring an ill omen to the one who uttered it. A heavy sigh escaped the youngest Fujiwara, as she laid her head against the edge of the table, a hand holding onto the cup of tea placed before her.
"If this bores you," Ryūsei began, the softest of whispers leaving his lips. Tatsuki turned her head towards him, his gaze never leaving hers as they held each others. "Perhaps there is another way to sate yourself, no?" he continued, causing her to turn her head towards the entrance of the restaurant. He folded his hands beneath him, laid his chin upon them, and continued to stare at his sister. For what it was worth, he knew this would not produce the results they had wanted. The only information they had on Yōichirō was that he was the Oyabun, the head of the notorious Yakuza.
"Not bored, Yū, just... restless," she finally replied, straightening her posture. Both were adorned in a gray yukata, simple in appearance, and in color. Tatsuki smoothed hers out as she remained silent. There was nothing more they could learn from inside of this place. "We could make this a bit easier." she stated, a sly smile worming its way upon her face. Ryūsei raised a questioning brow, gesturing for her to continue. "We could split up and cover more ground. Not everyone is going to be as hushed as these people are," she suggested, speaking lower towards the end of her sentence.
Ryūsei seemed to muse it over, a contemplative look crossing his features before he took a sip from his cup. Tatsuki pursed her lips as he remained silent, waiting for him to say something before she released an aggravated sigh. This elicited a light chuckle from Ryūsei. "Impatient, are we? You know these things take time, Tsuki," he finally spoke. She merely glanced at him through her lashes, her head hanging slightly low. "But if you want to explore the city, all you had to do was say so." he continued, earning a slight quirk of her lips.
"We'll finish here, and split up. I'll take the western part of the village, and I want you to take the eastern part. We meet back here after sundown, deal?" he stated, the statement coming out more of a demand. "If you come across trouble, promise me you won't do something we'll both regret?" it was asking a lot, he knew that. Still, the small smile that flickered across her face caused a bit of relief to fill him. She nodded her head in agreement, and picked up the pair of chopsticks as their food came to the table.
"You know, maybe after this, we can find some place quiet," she suddenly stated,taking a slow bite from the oyakodon. "We've done enough, haven't we?" she continued, gauging her brother's reaction. To say he was a surprised, would be hard to tell. He merely kept his gaze upon his own dish, taking silent bites as she frowned. It wasn't the first time she suggested such a thing, and he did not doubt that she truly meant it every time she brought it up, however; did she truly mean it? He would not deny her if that was what she wished, but it was not something he could do. He needed to do something, and what they did now, was the only thing he knew he could do.
"Perhaps, you could," he finally replied, a barest hint of something lacing his voice. She frowned at the statement. She didn't miss the way he said it, and sighed, dropping the subject all together. There was no way she'd do anything without her brother. For the past seventy-five years of her life, he's all she's ever known, and to leave him now... She shook her head and dropped the subject. She couldn't abandon him now. Not now. Not ever.
"You summoned me, sir?" Jūbei questioned, the soft blue of his eyes—the only visible colors upon his form—peering at the back of the Oyabun. Yōichirō remained silent, his eyes focusing on Jūbei's form. Without a moment's notice, he presented the scroll to the assassin, turning his gaze back towards the empty wall in front of him. Around him lay candles—each a varied height—with only one visibly lit one. He continued to remain silent, leaving Jūbei in his spot before he finally spoke.
"Take care of this. Sekigahara has refused to leave well enough alone," he stated, turning his head to the left of his side. Jūbei took the scroll, and read the contents. A visible frown marred his face, however; he placed a closed fist into the opening of his right palm, and prepared to leave. "And one more thing," he began, peering from the corners of his eyes towards the assassin. "Find out who it is, that foolish man, has sent for me," he finished. Jūbei acknowledged his master, and left, leaving no trace that he was ever there. Yōichirō kept his eyes where they were, glued to the shoji doors that were slightly ajar.
How many times, did this make, that the daimyō of Sekigahara had tried to take his life? The man was insistent, he'll give him that, however; did he believe that Yōichirō wasn't going to retaliate? Kanetsugu was an ignorant fool if he believed that he could be so easily eliminated. "Everyone wants you dead," the thought processed quicker than Yōichirō had time to process where it came from. His eyes narrowed as he stood from his spot, gliding over towards the shoji doors. A hand rested upon the door, tilting his head slightly out of the opening, and surveyed the area.
There was nothing there.
───────────────────────────────────────────────────
The bustling sounds of the market place, echoed throughout the area as people searched for the items they needed. The day was warmer than usually, and many of the village people were inside one of the inn's or another. In one such inn, found the Fujiwara siblings, sitting in a damp corner to the back. The chatter inside the small restaurant was the only way they could gather information, however; it seemed that everyone was a little tight lipped. Mentioning of Yōichirō's name appeared to be a taboo of sorts, as if it would bring an ill omen to the one who uttered it. A heavy sigh escaped the youngest Fujiwara, as she laid her head against the edge of the table, a hand holding onto the cup of tea placed before her.
"If this bores you," Ryūsei began, the softest of whispers leaving his lips. Tatsuki turned her head towards him, his gaze never leaving hers as they held each others. "Perhaps there is another way to sate yourself, no?" he continued, causing her to turn her head towards the entrance of the restaurant. He folded his hands beneath him, laid his chin upon them, and continued to stare at his sister. For what it was worth, he knew this would not produce the results they had wanted. The only information they had on Yōichirō was that he was the Oyabun, the head of the notorious Yakuza.
"Not bored, Yū, just... restless," she finally replied, straightening her posture. Both were adorned in a gray yukata, simple in appearance, and in color. Tatsuki smoothed hers out as she remained silent. There was nothing more they could learn from inside of this place. "We could make this a bit easier." she stated, a sly smile worming its way upon her face. Ryūsei raised a questioning brow, gesturing for her to continue. "We could split up and cover more ground. Not everyone is going to be as hushed as these people are," she suggested, speaking lower towards the end of her sentence.
Ryūsei seemed to muse it over, a contemplative look crossing his features before he took a sip from his cup. Tatsuki pursed her lips as he remained silent, waiting for him to say something before she released an aggravated sigh. This elicited a light chuckle from Ryūsei. "Impatient, are we? You know these things take time, Tsuki," he finally spoke. She merely glanced at him through her lashes, her head hanging slightly low. "But if you want to explore the city, all you had to do was say so." he continued, earning a slight quirk of her lips.
"We'll finish here, and split up. I'll take the western part of the village, and I want you to take the eastern part. We meet back here after sundown, deal?" he stated, the statement coming out more of a demand. "If you come across trouble, promise me you won't do something we'll both regret?" it was asking a lot, he knew that. Still, the small smile that flickered across her face caused a bit of relief to fill him. She nodded her head in agreement, and picked up the pair of chopsticks as their food came to the table.
"You know, maybe after this, we can find some place quiet," she suddenly stated,taking a slow bite from the oyakodon. "We've done enough, haven't we?" she continued, gauging her brother's reaction. To say he was a surprised, would be hard to tell. He merely kept his gaze upon his own dish, taking silent bites as she frowned. It wasn't the first time she suggested such a thing, and he did not doubt that she truly meant it every time she brought it up, however; did she truly mean it? He would not deny her if that was what she wished, but it was not something he could do. He needed to do something, and what they did now, was the only thing he knew he could do.
"Perhaps, you could," he finally replied, a barest hint of something lacing his voice. She frowned at the statement. She didn't miss the way he said it, and sighed, dropping the subject all together. There was no way she'd do anything without her brother. For the past seventy-five years of her life, he's all she's ever known, and to leave him now... She shook her head and dropped the subject. She couldn't abandon him now. Not now. Not ever.
"Hana, you do know I have the right to worry about you." The music resonating within the six tatami room ended its tune much like of a soft sigh. Its origin was a man who slowly lowered the wooden flute from his lips as his eyes fluttered open resembling that of shy butterfly wings that revealed paper moons. The name might be considered peculiar for a male, yet this was taken ever so easily by who was known more as Susumu. "The same could be said about me, Haha-ue." There was movement afterwards, a few shuffling and a few sound of footsteps before a hand was placed on top of an elderly woman's graying hair. "Probably." Then, the room was filled with light laughter as much as the said woman could convey in her current form. For if one take a care to look, the individual given title as mother was lying upon the futon, eyes closed with sickly white complexion. In that light, any could assess the female was suffering from an ailment.
"You are the same as always... That's good to know." There was a small yet warm smile upon her lips, even in such condition, she was a beauty more so during her youth, she must have been a blossom so desired and so praised. "I believe my concern is misplaced..." This was answered with a smile from Susumu who then also placed a fleeting kiss on his mother's brow. "Chichi-ue is here, I will be leaving now." True to that statement, an elderly man was by the shōji doors gazing at them endearingly. "Hana." She called out as she raised her hand and he understood what that meant as she took her hand. "Be safe." He gently placed her hand on his cheek. "I understand... probably." A short laughter was heard from her and then, he slowly released it as he stood from her side. He looked towards his father who beckoned to follow him outside and so he did.
They were at a distance from his mother's room before his father finally spoke. "I've heard that the battles are getting dangerous. You're losing." The reason had been revealed as to why his father did not want to be heard so easily. It's true that her mother had lost most of her senses, the only one left are her ears, which made it more honed and sharper than the rest. His father stopped from his stride and turned to face his only son. "I have taught you the way of a warrior and you have made it as your own. I am proud of you and as our Konoe clan. However..." The older male placed both hands on Susumu's shoulders before continuing. "One must admit defeat. Ichijō-dono is now ailing and his influence now limited to himself. He is but a fool hoping to retrieve the old Edo. My son, this path has become far too dangerous."
Hearing this from his father, Susumu was not surprised or offended. He had always known the love his parents have for him, they are undefinable and without equivalent. "No path is safe, chichi-ue... probably." His father's grip on his shoulder tightened and a glare present among those eyes reflecting his image. "Susumu! Take this seriously." Those words had been a constant reminder for him, but never once did he take anything mildly. "Take care of haha-ue." He spoke without any difference from his rather calm and laid-back countenance. "I will be visiting again when you have calmed yourself, chichi-ue." The hands on his shoulders loosened before it fell away. He then lowered his head for a bow. "Until then, probably." And, he walked passed his father without another glance, taking his leave as a better judgement for now.
Thus, Susumu found himself walking through the streets of his hometown of Edo. His destination was but a blank in his mind. It was a rare day for him. He had been given rest and it had been months since his last so, he would want to cherish the time as possible even if it was a simple mean as strolling. The idea of colliding with the Yakuza was never a concern for him; if it happens then he will deal with it. Though, he would like to cite differences of then and now.
Before, Edo was a brilliant light filled vibrancy and a sense of wonderment. If he would put it into plain words, it was much like a festival all the time. The streets echoed with lively chatter, a sense of unhindered freedom. True, there had been misdeeds and hard moments on all sides, yet the middle point, there is a suspended sense of peace. A belief that this town in its magnificence would be left alone by the skirmishes of others. But, the threat came from another source.
Now, the streets still looked the same. The lay of the land has left unchanged. Life continued on as it had been before. However, the light has greatly dulled. Edo has now become a beacon of another kind. It exudes misery, fear, and chaos. There is a scent of decay, a rotting being covered by the wooden planks, yet there was no doubt, the restlessness in the air is heavy, intoxicating all within its grasp, creating varying results whether paranoia or hopelessness. It is different for everyone.
One example would be his Lord Ichijō Gakuto. The man is an influential minor lord who owned vast lands of rice paddies. This brought enormous fortune which squandered by his children through gambling and opium which caused their deaths leaving his master without an heir and family. Susumu fought by his master's side and enacted his wish to remove the Yakuza from Edo. But of course, it did not prove successful and the multitude of defeats had placed a great strain both physically and mentally onto his Lord who was not young to begin with. His master was now confined to his chambers and time eats on his health, awaiting the blow of death. Still, his master desires the end of the Yakuza, a paranoia of another kind.
That is how he became a part of the rebel army. His master was far weak now to command authority and knew well the futility to combat such a large entity singularly. By commandment, Susumu had been sent to join the rebel army under Satō Tadakatsu. In this manner, he shall fulfill his master's wish and also be his lord's representative in combat and monetary assistance. This was not turned down of course and his performance in battle was a boon, granting him the rank of vice-commander in the process.
Nevertheless, this was but a given of fate as he defines all, such the impediment of his walk by a wooden horse on the ground. It was probably owned by a child who dropped it. He lowered himself and cradled the toy in his hand.
Susumu gazed at it for some time and was eventually taken by the familiar sound of mewling. His eyes directed itself to a white cat with brown patches as it approached him. When it was now in front of him, the feline further its boundary by rubbing its body at his foot. He did not prevent or reprimand the cat and simply looked to another direction in which a group of felines was almost upon him. It seemed he must begin to move once more and so he did as he stood and kept the wooden horse. Despite the rather odd situation, he remained unbothered and his gait was in a relaxed pace even with the cats following him, like a mother hen to its chicks. It was quite the scene as he walked the streets of Edo with the few people out and about watching the scene with interest and confusion.
There was no reason not to be seen by the passing eyes of the people. The sun still loomed the sky, illuminating the land and the spectacle of cats trailing Susumu. For him, it is but normal. His eyes casually looked around him and a bench underneath an impressive Ichō made his sight settle. He approached it and took his seat as the felines followed suit. Some joined him on the bench, some lay on his feet, others lounged themselves on his shoulders, lap, and head. As for him, he remained completely at ease as he took out the wooden horse he had taken with him. He looked at it and a smile was on his lips.
Just like so, he passed his day of relaxation that way. Not minding, anything else. For Susumu, he would let time flow and allow it to take him to wherever it dictates. As of now, he would stay here under the ichō, surrounded by the cats, and simply idling himself away, like he had done many times before. Perhaps, there are things that do not change with time after all.
"You are the same as always... That's good to know." There was a small yet warm smile upon her lips, even in such condition, she was a beauty more so during her youth, she must have been a blossom so desired and so praised. "I believe my concern is misplaced..." This was answered with a smile from Susumu who then also placed a fleeting kiss on his mother's brow. "Chichi-ue is here, I will be leaving now." True to that statement, an elderly man was by the shōji doors gazing at them endearingly. "Hana." She called out as she raised her hand and he understood what that meant as she took her hand. "Be safe." He gently placed her hand on his cheek. "I understand... probably." A short laughter was heard from her and then, he slowly released it as he stood from her side. He looked towards his father who beckoned to follow him outside and so he did.
They were at a distance from his mother's room before his father finally spoke. "I've heard that the battles are getting dangerous. You're losing." The reason had been revealed as to why his father did not want to be heard so easily. It's true that her mother had lost most of her senses, the only one left are her ears, which made it more honed and sharper than the rest. His father stopped from his stride and turned to face his only son. "I have taught you the way of a warrior and you have made it as your own. I am proud of you and as our Konoe clan. However..." The older male placed both hands on Susumu's shoulders before continuing. "One must admit defeat. Ichijō-dono is now ailing and his influence now limited to himself. He is but a fool hoping to retrieve the old Edo. My son, this path has become far too dangerous."
Hearing this from his father, Susumu was not surprised or offended. He had always known the love his parents have for him, they are undefinable and without equivalent. "No path is safe, chichi-ue... probably." His father's grip on his shoulder tightened and a glare present among those eyes reflecting his image. "Susumu! Take this seriously." Those words had been a constant reminder for him, but never once did he take anything mildly. "Take care of haha-ue." He spoke without any difference from his rather calm and laid-back countenance. "I will be visiting again when you have calmed yourself, chichi-ue." The hands on his shoulders loosened before it fell away. He then lowered his head for a bow. "Until then, probably." And, he walked passed his father without another glance, taking his leave as a better judgement for now.
Thus, Susumu found himself walking through the streets of his hometown of Edo. His destination was but a blank in his mind. It was a rare day for him. He had been given rest and it had been months since his last so, he would want to cherish the time as possible even if it was a simple mean as strolling. The idea of colliding with the Yakuza was never a concern for him; if it happens then he will deal with it. Though, he would like to cite differences of then and now.
Before, Edo was a brilliant light filled vibrancy and a sense of wonderment. If he would put it into plain words, it was much like a festival all the time. The streets echoed with lively chatter, a sense of unhindered freedom. True, there had been misdeeds and hard moments on all sides, yet the middle point, there is a suspended sense of peace. A belief that this town in its magnificence would be left alone by the skirmishes of others. But, the threat came from another source.
Now, the streets still looked the same. The lay of the land has left unchanged. Life continued on as it had been before. However, the light has greatly dulled. Edo has now become a beacon of another kind. It exudes misery, fear, and chaos. There is a scent of decay, a rotting being covered by the wooden planks, yet there was no doubt, the restlessness in the air is heavy, intoxicating all within its grasp, creating varying results whether paranoia or hopelessness. It is different for everyone.
One example would be his Lord Ichijō Gakuto. The man is an influential minor lord who owned vast lands of rice paddies. This brought enormous fortune which squandered by his children through gambling and opium which caused their deaths leaving his master without an heir and family. Susumu fought by his master's side and enacted his wish to remove the Yakuza from Edo. But of course, it did not prove successful and the multitude of defeats had placed a great strain both physically and mentally onto his Lord who was not young to begin with. His master was now confined to his chambers and time eats on his health, awaiting the blow of death. Still, his master desires the end of the Yakuza, a paranoia of another kind.
That is how he became a part of the rebel army. His master was far weak now to command authority and knew well the futility to combat such a large entity singularly. By commandment, Susumu had been sent to join the rebel army under Satō Tadakatsu. In this manner, he shall fulfill his master's wish and also be his lord's representative in combat and monetary assistance. This was not turned down of course and his performance in battle was a boon, granting him the rank of vice-commander in the process.
Nevertheless, this was but a given of fate as he defines all, such the impediment of his walk by a wooden horse on the ground. It was probably owned by a child who dropped it. He lowered himself and cradled the toy in his hand.
Susumu gazed at it for some time and was eventually taken by the familiar sound of mewling. His eyes directed itself to a white cat with brown patches as it approached him. When it was now in front of him, the feline further its boundary by rubbing its body at his foot. He did not prevent or reprimand the cat and simply looked to another direction in which a group of felines was almost upon him. It seemed he must begin to move once more and so he did as he stood and kept the wooden horse. Despite the rather odd situation, he remained unbothered and his gait was in a relaxed pace even with the cats following him, like a mother hen to its chicks. It was quite the scene as he walked the streets of Edo with the few people out and about watching the scene with interest and confusion.
There was no reason not to be seen by the passing eyes of the people. The sun still loomed the sky, illuminating the land and the spectacle of cats trailing Susumu. For him, it is but normal. His eyes casually looked around him and a bench underneath an impressive Ichō made his sight settle. He approached it and took his seat as the felines followed suit. Some joined him on the bench, some lay on his feet, others lounged themselves on his shoulders, lap, and head. As for him, he remained completely at ease as he took out the wooden horse he had taken with him. He looked at it and a smile was on his lips.
Just like so, he passed his day of relaxation that way. Not minding, anything else. For Susumu, he would let time flow and allow it to take him to wherever it dictates. As of now, he would stay here under the ichō, surrounded by the cats, and simply idling himself away, like he had done many times before. Perhaps, there are things that do not change with time after all.
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Hafta git mah tehn poasts en oardurh ta poast leenks. If you can read that sentence, I am not amazed. I did that on purpse.
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And I don't care if I have to spam this stupid thing. I will do it. Besides, this is dead, and I'm working on a revival of sorts, a different one with the same outcome: the formation of the shinsengumi.
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But in order to make sure everything is perfect, I need to be able to post links in the OOC tabs
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Unfortunately, though. I have to have ten freakin posts in an RP, not a thread. This is the part that sucks. I mean, granted I can understand the whole spamming and crazy shenanigans, but ten posts, in an RP? Pft. Oh well, can't be helped.
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I shall abide by the rules and do my ten posts. It is taking a minute, but I shall have them all up! Eventually. I think I have five more to go?
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This is post numbah seven! Apparently I can't count? Oh well. Pooey. Is that even a word? Pooey?
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I am also doing this in different fonts to see which one I like better. So far, I might be sticking with either cambria or baskerville. They look the prettiest.
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This one looks okay, but meh. I don't know yet. I got one more try to figure this out!
- 13 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Genesis: The Shinsengumi: Out of Character
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Genesis: The Shinsengumi
1, 2, 3by Luciferus on Wed May 13, 2015 8:16 pm
- 56 Replies
- 2093 Views
- Last post by Pyroteknik
on Fri May 29, 2015 9:18 pm
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Genesis: The Shinsengumi
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Genesis: The Directory
by Luciferus on Thu May 21, 2015 3:19 pm
- 3 Replies
- 469 Views
- Last post by Luciferus
on Sat May 23, 2015 12:43 am
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Genesis: The Directory
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Genesis: The NPC Thread
by Luciferus on Tue May 19, 2015 9:03 pm
- 3 Replies
- 513 Views
- Last post by Luciferus
on Sat May 23, 2015 12:17 am
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Genesis: The NPC Thread
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