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Snippet #2643987

located in Japan, a part of Way of the Ronin, one of the many universes on RPG.


your mom was fun last night


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kagami Koharu Character Portrait: Atago Sora Character Portrait: Kohaku Kana Character Portrait: Ikeda Kojuro Character Portrait: Hara Noa
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It had been some time since he’d been in the company of odder people.

The day had started out normally enough; he’d wandered in his usual careless fashion into a small village outside of Edo, intent on peddling his more mundane wares to the local tea shop. It was a nice little place, as far as they went; he’d done business there a few times before. His aimless meandering took him far afield and to exotic places, something which was to the benefit of the quite stationary establishment, which despite its humble location now boasted an excellent selection of tea leaves from China and even some of that strange thing they’d mutated out of them in Europe and passed off as having the same name. The rose hips really were better in foreign lands, though, and he had those, too.

He’d been minding his own business, conversing in modulated tones with the owner, when one of the serving girls—new, since the last time he’d been in, had tripped over something and accidentally covered himself and the nearest other patron with scalding tea. Of course, he’d been quick to laugh it off with customary bumbling awkwardness, smiling and flapping his hands like an effete, but alas the man next to him had not taken it so well.

A mercenary, or perhaps one of those samurai that wasn’t actually a samurai. Ronin, they were called. Samurai without the fancy name or the behavioral restrictions, as far as he could tell them apart. In any case, the fool decided that the poor girl’s offense was worth becoming extremely angry about, and so with a sigh, Sora had stepped in, pasting a placating smile upon his face and suggesting that perhaps the eminent and very respectable warrior-sama wouldn’t mind letting the offense go, just this once, perhaps if his tea and food would be paid for?

Well apparently this hadn’t been the best idea for some reason, because the next thing he knew, there was a fist headed for his face, and he ducked himself out of the way with great celerity, meaning that it (and the fool who’d thrown it) crashed through a shogi-screen door. For some reason or another, it had become a brawl after that, and annoying as it was, Sora would have allowed it to run its course had the tea shop owner and the clumsy young lady not been drawn into it.

It was about then that he decided he was going to put the ruffian and his friends through another door, this time the front one, and the ronin’s balance was so poor that a single well-placed kick had done the trick. “Oh dear, was that me?” He asked innocently, dusting his hands off and following the ronin outside the tea shop. At least this way no more of the furniture would be damaged. “Maybe you owe the nice young lady an apology, warrior-sama. What say we stop this silliness and all have a cup of tea, hm? I have some very nice leaves from Kyushu inside that I think you would enjoy.”

He always did manage to say just the wrong thing.

The ensuing fight was short and painfully boring, if he were being honest. Even the swords involved didn’t really add anything spicy—it was all just mid-level humanity, and that novelty had worn off long ago. The worst part was that the people in the tea shop would remember this, and he didn’t like people to remember this part of him. Old habits, and all that.

He was back inside and helping the owner pick up his broken porcelain and ceramic when the strangers entered. He’d noticed them before, but only because one of them smelled distinctly familiar, in a subdued sort of way. He found himself involuntarily salivating, but swallowed past it and suppressed the instinct, greeting them with his usual vague, daydreamy politeness and listening as he was pitched an employment opportunity, though the details were a little sparing.

Still… it wasn’t like he’d had plans. Now he did. How fortunate for him.

There was a stop at another, much bigger and more ornate-looking, tea shop afterwards. He vaguely recognized the name, which was a bit pretentious in his opinion, and he kept himself aside while they went about… whatever business they had here. As far as he could tell, it involved consultation with a bunch of saburuko about which one of them was suited to do… something. Admittedly, while Sora was quite fond of music, the tone of the discussion, the sort of market-style evaluation of physical features and the like, didn’t really interest him, and he spent most of his time talking to one of the trainees, who was preoccupied tuning her shamisen and didn’t once actually look up at whom she was speaking with, a fact which amused him considerably.

When that was done, they were away again, until they met up with… was this one a samurai or another ronin? It was hard to say, but he looked less shabby than most of the ronin Sora had ever run into, so it seemed like he must be a samurai. So here he was, sitting on a borrowed horse, listening to people talk about him without actually getting his input (something so normal for him he didn’t even think of it in those terms, exactly), still not exactly sure what he was supposed to be doing but willing enough to do it. Life was easy when you didn’t care about much.