Announcements: Initiative: Promoting Forum Roleplay » Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Satire & Comedy » Platonic numbers » No complaints (a little bit of rappin) » Any multi-player roleplay videogamers here? » Needing a woman's perspective on a concept » Gluts and Gaps » Universal Basic Income » Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation »

Players Wanted: Kingdom come looking for roleplayers » The Last Dragon! » Roleplay Return for 1 x 1 » Players wanted for a science fiction adventure. » Players needed for Fantasy Romance reboot » One(1) male & Two(2) Female Roles OPEN <3 » Talmora: Kingdom of magic » Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted »

0
followers
follow

Fumio Hajime

"Ningen... Youkai... Both pay handsomely. Both bleed red. Hard for me to have bias."

0 · 320 views · located in sengoku period, japan

a character in “The Ways of Samurai”, as played by Wudgeous

Description



Image





Image












"Yare, yare..."





Age
"Some women call me grampa, some girls call me daddy... It's all perspective, isn't it?"
He turns fifty tomorrow.

Appearance
Haji-san is a large, hulking gentleman who can rub shoulders with the biggest and best of those light-haired foreigners. Bit shorter than them, is all. His strength and diligence at his art is apparent through his protruding veins, overlayed with spatters of wrinkles.
He claims he's the runt of his litter, and in the same breath makes it clear he's survived the longest.
His face is square, lined with long wrinkles and scars, and immovable. Fumio Hajime shows little emotion, and seldomly has a positive reaction to spare; far from being the sullen, grumpy fellow he might seem at a glance, he loves being annoying. Yes. He likes to fuck with people. He uses his straight no-nonsense face to tell blatant, ridiculous lies, and has actually used it to get away with murder a few times.
He purposefully (and very sneakily) rips the rope on geta so he can carry girls on his back, too.
He likes to wear busy patterns, because he feels it makes him look sophisticated, and carries a satchel full of trinkets and souvenirs and money (it's not terribly organized--this is the feudal era, it has only one compartment).



Image




Likes
Drinking.
  • In that he has the constitution of an elephant, he never gets drunk. So why does he like drinking? He likes being around people when their guard is down. It gives him access to juicy secrets, and crippling weaknesses. Usually the weakness is that they were daft enough to be drunk at all when they had a ronin pining for their head.
Beheading.
  • He's always wanted a head collection, but his tendency for vast travel makes it difficult. And the stench! So to make up for this, he cuts as many heads as he legally-without-reproach can, a little like leaving a trail of bread crumbs he can look back on.
Travel.
  • A great way to live a little longer is to run to places with fantastic sights and sounds. The pursuit will continue eventually, but he likes to stop and enjoy where he's at once in a while.
Interrogation.
  • Ah... But I don't suppose we've talked about his employment yet. Hajime loves what he does, and loves that he's well known for it. There is a frighteningly low level of untruth to the rumors of what he does to his fellow man. Beheading his a simple pleasure, instant gratification, like a spot of sugar. Pulling the truth out of someone through their teeth, with every satisfying knock of white molars being ripped from the gums, and the rapid spray of coalgulating blood... that's a fine chocolate from the western hemisphere. Gratifying.
Dogs.
  • He's heard of there being larger breeds over on the other side of the world... But for now, throwing bits of meat to his local street animals satisfied him. He does give nobility a bit of a stink-eye when he sees them gallavanting around with their lap puppies, because he is a little jealous they can provide a safe space for their pets. Oh, but of course he's tried to keep a dog or two before. They don't last long in his line of work. Neither do the people who see fit to assassinate dogs as a way of getting to him, but all in all, it's too much for him hassle right now.


Dislikes
Running in circles.
  • He will lose his patience and kill you that much more violently.
Children running in circles.
  • It makes him dizzy. Go have fun somewhere else, little brats...
Blood on his clothes.
  • If only because he never notices until someone screams at the sight of him. He's also not a massive fan of taking baths in the woods. He does enjoy public baths, though.
When people lick their swords.
  • So unsanitary!
Large crowds
  • Annoying to get through.
Wasted food
  • Were you born in a cave or something, farmers work hard for every grain of rice on your plate you ungrateful git.
Shapeshifters
  • He wouldn't entirely call this a vendetta, but from his own personal experience, they are not his favorite target. While he's picked up tips and tricks in dealing with them, they have still gotten the upper hand on him on some occasions. It's irritable, and he takes special care in their extermination. Usually by cutting off their testicles.
....
  • He's quite tolerant of a lot of things, actually, and very patient.




Personality
Much more obnoxious than you would think from downbeat looks alone; though it's convincingly apparent only to those who have known him for years and years. This man can be subtle as sin, when he feels so inclined. He can also be extremely insensitive, but this does not stem from any form of ignorance of social graces. Hajime, in fact, enjoys ticking off others; he relishes the jumbling and incoherent words that they try to mold into clever comebacks. He's also the sort to say some obscenely disturbing shit with his lazy country drawl, as if he were kicking back at a beach down south, relishing each wave eating the next. His humor is dry and detached. Easily disinterested, he's often found (apparently) zoning out, though he'll easily repeat the last five sentences you've said to him if you try to snap your fingers in his face (assuming he doesn't snap those fingers in half first).

Deep down, Fumio-san is ruthless and unforgiving. It would not be too dreadful of an exaggeration to say that involving this bastard in a grudge battle will only net more blood in a sort of gruesome chain reaction. His cruel and unusual methods of torture and punishment, therefore, have become a little more rarely sought after, causing him to hitch up his prices significantly. Now, not only does he loves his occupation, he's only called when it matters get severely personal.

Of course, if it's personal for him, you might get a discounted rate if you let him sleep with your wife.

Relationships
Delightfully lonesome. Right now he's flirting with this little lady who helps her father make mochi.
Isamu
  • A powerful oni who decided to employ Hajime for a time as his personal interrogator. He was brutish, but respectful, and shared many things he did not have to share with a lowly human. Hajime came to view the oni as his equal, and called him Ee-chan. Isamu was the only one who did not mind the nickname.
Makoto
  • Prudent and beautiful wife of the oni Isamu. Hajime... clearly never respected her much. It was Isamu alone that Hajime would respond to, and he'd taken the time to make that apparent to the missus. She does not get to order him to fetch groceries. Not today, not ever. Makoto, in turn, finds him rather insufferable what with his blatant ignoring of her opinion. They often have entire conversations without looking at each other. When their eyes did meet, there would be a lot of indignant staring.
The Fumio Family
  • Dead! Dead! Very, very dead! He had parents and a lot of siblings, and he does not mind being the only survivor. He never really got along with them, and he hates the concept of family. His family, your family, that brat's family. Too much commitment, too much consequence, sounds stupid to him, to be honest.
Alexander Ornstein III
  • Son of a nobleman that housed Hajime during his time abroad. Hajime doesn't remember or care much for him, but did teach him all the Japanese he knew, and a small amount of swordplay.

**To be edited as I talk to other folk in the roleplay.




Image




Equipment
Hajime carries with him two blades; a masterwork katana he's paid a pretty penny for, and a simple, rusted blade that he's had since before his time overseas.

Strengths
Ruthless and Relentless
  • When taking something seriously, he does not hold back, and he does not let go. He remembers old, old faces that have scampered away, and pursues them until there are no faces left. Currently, every targets he's ever had are six feet under; be it through his own hand or through uncontrollable circumstance.
Tolerance
  • He can take searing pain, he can take religious rants and babbles. As a self-proclaimed artist in torture, he can handle a lot than the average man can stand.
Calculation
  • One might suppose he daydreams or stops to mingle in his own thoughts, but Fumio Hajime has unresting eyes, forever watching. Fifty years have taught him more than he needed to know about humans and youkai alike, how they react, how they think. His time with a tribe of Satori, in particular, had hardened his mind in a way no one could ever want till the damage is irreparable.

Weaknesses
Patience
  • He waits and idles a little too long sometimes, instead of dispatching an opponent immediately before they can react.
Morality
  • He can be trusted to do an assigned job, but that's about as far as anyone can throw him. Generally he won't go all Maleficent when snubbed by someone, but he has moody days sometimes.
Moody
  • Speaking of, while he might be a chipper old man and your best friend one day, never expect him to remain the same on the next. A stranger's slight could have him breaking cups and drawing his blade without a care as to who might be around.
Age
  • He's not as quick on his feet as he used to be. No, it's not a drastic flaring weakness--if it were he wouldn't be alive right now--but it's good tip for longevity if one were to straight up bolt when they see him. His emotions of thrill and excitement in chasing prey has waned over time.

Home
There are a few different places up for debate; but he wanders and camps, mostly, as his work is in the field.


Image
History
Ah, but we've gotten ahead of ourselves... Fumio Hajime was to an average family in an average village. To give him a chance at a more luxurious lifestyle (and because honestly, they had too many mouths to feed and too little birth control), his parents used their connections to the servants of a certain renowned household: He and his two brothers were given to the noble family of Kobayashi Gendo-dono (who was quite young at the time), and they were trained to be loyal guards, a trinity of defense.

First of all, Fumio did not get along with his brothers. When they sparred, they almost seemed intent to kill him, and always laughed when he made mistakes. Secondly, he did not care for the family, or for the child he was meant to protect as they both grew. He tried to get time alone with his master to learn and hone his skills, but overall studied and trained in solitude. When he grew a little older, at the peak of his rebellious rage, he stowed himself away on ship and... honestly, had no idea where it was headed. He ended up in Portugal, very lost and very confused. He'll tell you all sorts of stories about that time, such as living on a beach and slaying dragons and the like, but truly, he was trapped in an alien world until he stumbled over the border and was picked up by an intrigued Austrian nobleman. The man was a blossoming tradesman, and sought to expand his business overseas toward the east. He believed it would be wise to put in an investment for a language tutor.

It did not take long for the Alexander Ornstein II to realize that he had no interest in learning Japanese, because he wanted to do business in China. Having brought a confused, jittery Japanese person all the way to his mansion, however, he surmised it would be worthwhile for the young man to teach the language to his children, whose youth would allow them to pick it up with ease anyway. And, despite fleeing across the world to do so, that was how Hajime never escaped his fate as being a babysitter. With limited funds and a reluctance to get lost again, he stayed with the Ornsteins for a time. He gained wisdom and quaint factoids here and there, he opened his mind to an entirely different world, and he never slacked off on his training even for a day.

Yet having grown homesick for the food and having attained enough wealth to make the journey, he shamelessly returned to Japan about fifteen years later. What was there to be ashamed about, after all, when no one remembered the name and face of the boy who ran away so long ago? It did not take him long to learn that his brothers have already been killed in battle. He also soon realized he no longer had kindly and naive foreigners taking care of him simply because he was a funny-talking Japanese man in a big western world. He realized he'd returned to a world driven by money, driven by the market, and he realized he wasn't too happy about surviving off of mother nature for the remainder of his life. And so he was home, in an adult's skin, and he was without connections.

And without food. And soon, without money.

What shall I do, thought Fumio Hajime, sitting alone at a food stand, when I have been so ungrateful, eventually throwing aside every hand that was offered to me? A small civil war was going on, perhaps he should join the army? Many young men seemed keen on the idea, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea of being typical. A brawl began behind him, and having nothing better to do, he took part and killed a man.

Luckily, before he could have an existential crisis about having taken a life, he was informed that people hated that guy anyway, and he was rewarded for the deed. The body bleeding below him was a wanted man, considered less than human. Finding this quaint, Hajime sought out more like the man, and killed them, too. Certainly, they would put up a fight; one gave him a scar across his forehead, one nearly killed him, but after every close encounter with defeat, Hajime would meditate, and Hajime would train until his fingers blistered.

Five years later, when he had gotten a little better at his new line of work, he was following an unusual mark with wide-set eyes. A woman who had stolen precious gems from a lord, or slept with his son, his daughter, or something between the three. He finally tracked down the oddball to the outskirts of a mountain, and confronted her. The usual routine came to pass; begging to be let go, begging for time to explain. However, irritably enough, she seemed more frightened of some external circumstance than she was of him. That was when a Satori appeared, and ripped off her head with its teeth. As her body fell with a sickening splatter, the two that remained standing locked eyes. It was Hajime's first time seeing a youkai, and possibly the youkai's first time seeing a human, too, seeing as the woman had been a Satori wearing human flesh. Not that Hajime knew it, at the time.

They fought, briefly, and the Satori fled--not because it was intimidated by him, but the race of Satori were easily spooked by unexpected situations. It was also unsure as to how its laws would feel about it killing a human when it was still technically on human ground. Satori are, after all, not the best at remembering rules and regulations. Hajime gave chase, managing to find his way into a cave almost directly below the noble House of the Earth. He was captured by the Satori tribe, and held there for at least half a year.

It is important to know that Satori are a wilder race of youkai, generally senseless and stupid. Yet what made them special was not their sheer size or amount of body hair, but their ability to read minds. They enjoyed playing with their food.

Hajime was captured, tied at the hands and feet, and beaten brutally for the offense. They would not kill him, they insisted, because they wished to eat off of him and let him heal, as a sort of limitless resource. They asked him inane questions, and tried to scramble his mind like an egg so that they might hear his humorously incoherent thoughts. Hajime watched them while the months went by, never tearing his eyes away from their ugly faces. He watched them, memorized their habits and schedules.

Eventually, he broke free of his confinement.

Hajime stormed deeper into their lair to impale his original quarry through the mouth, cleaving its head in half. Mid-week, midday, his quarry would always go drinking with the strongest of his kind in a vain hope of being accepted.

The mind-reading youkai were shocked and unable to decipher the human's brain. "Why did you not run home, son of man? They asked as they tied him up again. "Did our brother cause so much trouble in your world that his head would bring you insurmountable riches?"

Hajime spat out a vein of blood from between his teeth, and said, "No."

"...If you must know," he elaborated after a time, "The bastard ripped my good haori in our initial fight, and I hated his voice grating in my ears. I killed him for sport."

"Truly?" said the younger Satori who had asked the question, blinking his large eyes. "Yes, his voice truly was annoying. We hated him, too!"

So the Satori let the human be for another few months, then because they still couldn't wrap their minds around him, dragged him along to a House of Earth convergence to brag about the funny human to the great ogre Isamu, who then decided he wished to contract Hajime, who at this point was so large and derelict he may as well have passed as a youkai. (This caused a small war between the oni and satori, but that is a story for another time).

Isamu finally relented, paying the Satori more than they deserved in order to receive the human, much to the dismay of the oni's wife. Isamu then became his primary employer, and possibly the closest thing he would ever have to a friendship.

The Satori, Isamu said, were among the sickest and most psychotic creatures to walk the earth. He saw value in Hajime's firsthand experience, and asked if he would use this experience to work in a torture chamber, as they could never get the argumentative Satori to agree to do anything. If Hajime said no, of course, he would have been eaten. The cruel and powerful oni inspired him to become very good at what he did, and he began to wonder why he should ever cease learning. Agony became art, and information spilled like water. The variety in constitution of youkai he worked with--from the weak whimpers of a tanuki to the stalwart roars of larger beasts--became fascinating, and became something he looked forward to. And the oni rewarded him handsomely, and treated him like... human. That is, how humans were expected to treat each other: well and respectfully.

When Isamu passed, many expressed their long-suppressed desire of killing the human that worked below them. It was the great oni's wife that stepped in, challenging her naysayers directly to make an attempt at her life before the humans. She knew how fond her late husband was of the stupid creature, and claimed any attempt at the man's life would be equivalent to spitting at the great oni's grave.

However, because she always believed Hajime was a jackass and never liked him, she insisted he never return to their realm.


It took time for Hajime to adjust to the real world of Japan again, but it wasn't long before he again took to human bounties. Due to his increasingly cruel and unusual methods, he was able to begin selling desperately blabbed information on the side. Before he knew it, he was running his own business. He talked little of his fantastical experience, as most would not believe him, and he felt wary that an oni may be listening and somehow taking offense.

Many years later, after he'd garnered a comfortable reputation wherein he could survive from word of mouth alone, he overheard villagers speaking of a terrible slaughter. Some warlord raided a noble family's home, killing all but one surviving lady.

Hajime could not help but laugh, very loudly, when he heard the name.

When he heard the woman was searching for a merry band of ronin lackeys to avenge the old crime, he laughed harder, all the way to the province of Edo...

So begins...

Fumio Hajime's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Yesterday.
It was around this time that Hajime wondered if he ought to invest in a horse of some kind; be it a beast of labor or a war animal, it would be faster than travelling on foot. On the other hand, the same "damned animal will not be able to protect itself" logic applies to why he can't own a dog. "You'll be the closest thing I have to a pet for today, Tatsu-kun," he crooned despondently to the weighted sack in his left hand. Splotches of red were still blooming and seeping through the patches of fiber, and the sack swung like a careful pendulum.

His clients, lowly gang members sent to represent their aniki, determined they would meet him at the outskirts of the city, which he found agreeable because he had other business within the depths of town. They would not wait past sunset, they said, and he was quickly losing daylight. Yet he was in no hurry. He knew they would wait, lest they find the head rolled like a bowling ball through the door of their employer's bedroom. And there they were, the party of three, sitting in an impatient little circle. They looked up expectantly.

"Good news and bad news, men," Hajime grunted as he hurled the sack in the middle of the crew. A fat one had some trouble scrambling to his feet to avoid the sick splack as the object hit the ground, disembodied neck first. Hajime pointed at the sack; his forefinger looked like it could crack skulls. "I got the bastard's stepbrother. Man himself will cost another thousand."

Hajime was proud of himself for not staining his billowing sleeves, though he noticed constellation blood spots on his tabi socks as he came to a halt. Damn. Those won't be coming out anytime soon. After a while of heavy negotiation (during which he unfurled the drawn wanted poster and emptied the contents of the sack, insisting that in the future, good clients informed him when there was another man who looked a helluva lot like the man they wanted dead), the thugs decided they were satisfied with the one they had murdered, thank you for going out of your way for us, Fumio-san, no really it's okay, we'll talk aniki into settling things with his brother-in-law peacefully, Fumio-san, honest, thank you SO MUCH!

He walked away from the exchange with his coin purse jingling not as loudly as he liked. Young people these days... no balls. Scared of everything that looked at them with dead eyes. Or maybe he's lost his bartering touch? He's going to blame it, he decided, on having spent too much time in Europe twenty years ago. Hajime paid a quick visit to the public bathhouse to get himself cleaned up and socially acceptable, then located an inn where he can get some rest and flirt with the innkeeper's wife.




Today.
He opened his eyes and realized he was fifty years old. Fifty goddamn years of walking, eating and shitting. What has he accomplished?

Quite a lot, actually. He'd been a hard, diligent worker, and he wondered if that was why he was being followed. He was a little surprised he wasn't jumped during the night, but saw little need to dwell on the oddity. Before he headed to the dojo (as instructed in the parchment he'd ripped off a wall), he surmised it would be tactful to first take care of whatever personal business he'd had. Hajime kicked on his sandals, picked up his good katana from his bedside, and stepped outside with his hand on his hilt.


What awaited him caused Hajime's brows to furl together into what felt like a celtic knot. There stood, unmistakably, a blonde citizen of Central Europe who Hajime was a quite wary of recognizing. "What are you doing her--Whattu ale yu doing here, bozu?" This was not asked in a kind, pensive manner one might expect of a loving sensei.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Gray
Image

Three months, two days, and eleven hours. This was the time required to sail from Portugal to Japan. This time did not count stops in China for supplies. Seasickness happened to everyone on a voyage such as this, and even Alexander, who thought he had earned his sea-legs long ago, had felt its cold bite. Yet, as the winds carried the galleon closer, the blonde had begun to move closer to top-side, eager to hear the words he had longed for, for so long. “Land Ho! It’s Japan.” Japan, the fantastic place his master had long ago spoke of. A place of monsters, glory, and the true test of a man’s worth. Here the inhabitants were always on edge, looking for their next battle. Here, the men hunted ogres for sport. Here, Alex could finally find his true calling.

The ship anchored down in a tiny port. Apparently this city was just one of the stops on the list today. Alex however, had seen enough of the inside of a Galleon to last him a lifetime. Moving from his bunk, the blonde gathered all the supplies he had brought with him for the journey. Gold, not in coin form, bullets and powder, his weapons, and a traveling cloak. He had to admit, to himself if to no-one else, there were some tough choices ahead of him. Namely; what to do first in the land he had dreamed of for so long? Did he haul off and buy a katana? Or did he try the grilled Unagi? Or, did he find his master. The man who had taught him everything he had ever learned about this place, as well as given him a comprehensive (well in Alexander’s mind anyways) knowledge of Japanese.

Of course, he decided on the sword.

Leaving the ship, the young man finally saw his first glimpses of Japan. There were no monsters. Strangely, the town was smaller than he suspected it would be. No walls to speak of, and no keep in sight, this was not a place which was besieged nightly by Oni, or attacked mercilessly from the sea by all manner of creatures unholy. In fact, this looked like a simple trading port. “Of course! Why would monsters attack such a simple place?” Master had spoken truth all those years ago. The monsters would be closer inland.

Sword shops in a port town are on the downside of quality. Here, merchants and blacksmiths, pump out many weapons and do not care one iota about quality. They sell to eager merchants from abroad, and make a quick turn around. Of course, Alexander could read all the signs of poor quality as his gaze scanned stall after stall looking for that perfect weapon. Another issue was his form of payment. Many places in the world would take raw gold. However, Japan was a bit fickle, most likely given the purchaser and not his form of payment. It was easy to see, he didn't belong in this country. This however was in no way a deterrent. Eventually Alex found his way to a lonely shop, it sat removed from many of the merchant stalls, the chimney puffing out a steady stream of smoke.

The shop looked to be in decent shape, despite missing a few shingles. The inside assaulted any who entered with the smells of burnt charcoal, and steal. This was it. The mecca the boy had dreamed of. A variety of swords lie around the place. Almost all in pristine condition. However, the one that caught the boys eye was a worn weapon. The sheath was black, but missing paint where it would have hit a belt for years. When examining the blade there was no sign of rust, but there was a certain character to it. This sword had seen combat. Energetically, the young man snatched up the sword, and presented the forge-man with enough gold that Alexander could sleep at night.

Now... where had that master gone off to?

Alexander had a long time to think of exactly how he would find his missing Sensei. Three months, two days, and eleven hours; to be precise. Initially, he had sketched his master’s tattoo from memory, believing this to be sufficient. However, after some deliberation, Alexander had just decided to ask around. Perhaps, he believed, it would be best to ask anyone else he saw with tattoos.

Here in port, Alexander’s looks were starting to gain attention. This port was used to seeing the darker skinned, and hair of Portuguese traders. The likelihood of them seeing an Austrian noble would have been incredibly slim. Thankfully, the notoriety had managed to draw a few fellows with tattoos. While they didn’t look friendly in the Western sense, Alexander knew that customs must be different here. After all his master hadn’t looked happy a day Alex saw him, but he knew that he was a happy guy. Japanese men must not smile… that was all.

“DOH-MO! I… AM… WATCHING FOR HAJIME FUMIO” A large smile grew on Alexander’s face. He thought that introduction went really well. Incredibly well. He could tell, because the men’s features got uncomfortable. “Fumio. I wouldn’t go near that piece of shit. Why don’t you go enjoy a lovely brothel like every other Westerner around here.” These words, well Alex only caught a handful but it did seem like they knew his sensei. The man’s accomplice immediately retorted “Don’t talk about Fumio like that, he’ll hear you.” While the men talked Alex managed to get a good look at them. Both were shorter than him, and both had Katana on their side. It only went to confirm the old tales Master had spoken. Here, in lawless Japan, a man’s worth was governed by his skill with a blade.

Eventually, when the men stopped arguing amongst themselves, they pointed towards a tall mountain. “Go there instead, have fun.” Alex smiled! He couldn’t believe his luck. These two tattooed strangers not only knew his master, but knew his location! Long distance trekking had long been considered a staple of monster hunting. To get to that mountain would easily take a day. But a day was nothing to a man who had spent his entire life, waiting to get a chance in Japan.

Near the mountain, Alexander would continue his search! Here, a waitress at a local restaurant seemed to know exactly who Hajime Fumio was. With each passing person, Alex was coming closer. Deep into the woods, Alex caught a familiar scent. “This… this is definitely master’s smell, but it’s mixed with something, brimstone?” Hunting takes a great deal of skill, and many different skills to perfect. Tracking by scent, was just one of the ways he’d use to find his prey. Another, was footprints. Near where the dirt path ended, the young blonde could see heavy tracks of an estimated two-hundred pound man. The sandal tracks were heavier than the typical lighter Japanese man, and there was something else different about these tracks, they had blood droplets around them.

The male bent down close to the ground, his fingers touched the soft well-treaded dirt. The blood was fresh, still wet, and warm. His master had been here recently. No longer than an hour. “Sensei… he’s in trouble!” With haste the male sprinted through the forest. This was truly his domain. Broken twigs, and branches told a tale. They all spoke “Fumio”. His eyes gazed around, eager for the next clue, and it wouldn’t take him long to come to the top of a hill. His natural instincts always took him to higher ground. Here, he heard voices. A fallen tree would secure cover, from the sounds of the voices, they must be close to 100 yards away.

Alex slid close to the fallen tree. His body tucked tightly into the earth, and next to the solid log. Near the bottom of the hill, three men stood before Alex’s Sensei. His fingers gracefully searched for his long rifle. The musket was already loaded. Effortlessly, they handled the nearly eleven pound weapon, and placed it into position. The stock tucked tightly against his shoulder, the weight of the weapon balanced mostly on the log. With quick, but deliberate, movements Alex’s thumb slowly cocked the hammer into place. His breath steadied. He’d only get one shot, so if these men so much as touched his master, he’d be ready.

But then, the unexpected happened.

Hajime threw an object at their feet. The men looked happy! Overjoyed even. From the sounds of their expression, they must have been given a precious gift from Alex’s master. Another smile came upon Alex, he was right about his master, he was truly a kind man. “Master just returned to them a lost item. He’s really become a great man.” Slowly, Alexander un-cocked the weapon. He was wrong at his gauge of the situation, thankfully. “Now...” he spoke, whisper quiet, beneath his breath. “How do I go meet him!? I mean, it’s only been twenty years.”

The three men left, after about an hour. They had exchanged something in bamboo tubes, probably alcohol. Before stumbling into the woods. Later still, Fumio began to move. Based on his steps, and him being on a beaten path; he’d probably go towards the nearest town. Towns too had their own scents. Blacksmiths, baths, whore-houses. It was possible to guess that they were close. With only a few moments travel, the outer walls of a town came into focus. Alexander stayed behind his master, only by a few hundred yards. The thought of meeting him was almost too much to bear. He could see Hajime enter into some kind of establishment, and could barely make out the words. But, it smelled of water, and steam when Alexander got closer.

Deciding this was probably not the best place to make a second impression, Alexander began to meander around town. He’d need a room for the night, and he hoped the clerk accepted gold.

He had found one, but it took nearly all night. Most inns in this town were reluctant to accept raw gold, in fear that it could be somehow faked, especially coming from an outsider. However, Alexander had managed to spy which inn his master had stayed, and managed to wake up at the crack of dawn to wait outside of it. Like a lost puppy finding his owner after a period of absence. There was a sense of longing here for the youth.

“What are you doing here boy?” Eyes widened. If Alex’s smile were any wider, it couldn’t fit in the tiny island nation. Sensei recognized me! “Master! I can speak Japanese, after all I learned it from the best! It took me ten years to get here master. But I’m finally strong enough. Strong enough to kill monsters at your side. While I haven’t seen any monsters, I think they must be cleverer than I gave them credit for.” This paragraph of words came bumbling out, at a higher rate of speed than his bullets. On top of that, it would have been a garbled mess.

“So, are you ready master? Let’s go hunt some monsters!” This part though, this had been the part he had prepared over and over again. For three months, two days, and eleven hours. This one phrase in Japanese.



Image


Fumio dragged his large palm over his eye, down towards his jawline. "I don't got time for this..." But he was slowly recalling the face. Of all the little brats from that Westerner's house to follow him to Japan, it had to be the excitable, energetic one. Still wanting to hunt monsters. "Bozu. I got somewhere to be right now. Got an appointment. Did I teach you that shit--? App-point-tu-ment."

The boy only looked surprised, inquisitive, and somehow a little more enthused.

"Right. This isn't a fight I woke up for." Hajime watched at the boy with unease, young bastard practically bouncing off of his damn heels, and then spoke up from his low grumble: "You may follow me FOR A WHILE. Then monsters. Then you go home."

Happy fuckin' birthday, Hajime, happy fuckin' birthday.

Funny story, they had to fight an exiting crowd of warriors to get into the dojo. He didn't know what that was about, but he knew his exchange with Aleksanderu had made him late. No matter. If they wished to bitch, he'll be taking their complaints forthwith. "Yo," greeted Hajime simply, lowering himself onto the hardwood. "Got caught up in something. Caught the jist of it." One of the participants had asked something quaint about what the good lady will do after the job is done, which was an interesting thought. Hajime's only concern was this;

"Kohaku, was it?" He felt like he might have known that face before, when it was much, much younger. "Say the job is done. How much is 'hefty', exactly?"



Image

Now this is what the boy had been WAITING for. Monsters, check, a mission, probably check, time to pal around the entire country of Japan with his master definitely check. The world was looking grand and everything was coming up Alexander… or as master had always called him Aleksanderu. On Fumio’s heels, Alex watched as they began to enter a small one-story building. A crowd of people were leaving, and there had been talk about something –none of which was important enough for Alex to ask about. What was important was that he was here, and around him more people with swords. The youth might not know where in Japan he was, but he knew he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image
Everything was still and silent in her world. Shizuka stood in all the glory she could muster before a small store by the side of the road. Her eyes had an intense presence about them as she remained static resembling that of a carved rock statue as her interest was plainly placed on that small food shack in which some of its customers felt apprehension due to her attendance and unlikely quiet manner. Another thing which factored to such reception was her preference for dark-colored clothing often connected to somber meanings and the sword she carries on her waist. With one false move, this peaceful scenery would become bloody in a second. Though, it would be not be that far-off a prospect for her. It was all due to the low grumbling sound coming from her bottomless pits or accurately, her stomach.

She was hungry and when a person is hungry, they are susceptible to many decisions often dubbed as downright insane. She averted her eyes for a moment and took out a small pouch. It was completely light and when opened, there was not even a lint in sight within. This was actually her coin purse who had lost its purpose when she had blown away her earnings from her last job because of those buffet meals, especially, when she could hardly see any difference on her physique even when those meals had the advertising lines of giving a person big muscles. It was rather frustrating. She was actually inclined to slash the owner of that restaurant to pieces when given a chance.

Nevertheless, it was a thought she would put aside for now. She must find a way to feed herself. It was her priority at this very moment. She could find a job where she could get a payment advance, but those are rare. What a dilemma indeed. She kept her empty coin pouch and took a look at the small food shack once more. That was when a parchment of paper passed by her face. The one thing which took her attention was the words 'hefty amount of money'. She aimed to grab hold of the document but it escaped her fingertips. Still, fate was on her side as it landed on the nearby ground. This enabled her to move from her position to pick it up. However, the wheels were still in motion as a ruckus emanated inside the small store which was followed by the screaming word 'thief!'.

Paying it no mind, she lowered herself to the ground unaware of her current placement. The so-called thief who was running much like a headless chicken did not notice her as she was picking up the parcel. There was a collision where the said felon tripped over her bent form and fell flat on his face. She stood up unperturbed by the turn of events with her goal in her hand which was the paper. Her eyes looked at the blundering fool who tripped over her as men quickly gathered around. How careless truly. The perople hauled the felon away while the one who had created the shrieking scream approached her. "Oh thank you very much, kind sir! If weren't for you, the earnings of our store would be taken away." Taking a moment to look at the one speaking, she determined it to be an elderly male and apparently the owner of the store from the meaning of those words.

The man's identification of her as a 'Sir' did not strike her in a rude manner. It was an implication she welcomed as she had condoned her natural gender to another more acceptable for this era and for her life's purpose. What irritated her bit was the connotation; she was a person doing good deeds. It was not in her nature to give aid no matter what kind it might be without any sort of return. That is why her eyes narrowed to a slight degree which made the elderly man stepped away a bit and quickly continued his sentences. "As a token of my appreciation, let me treat you to a meal. It is on the house! Please, sir!" Hearing that, her face softened. It seemed that this day was not as unlucky as she had thought it to be initially. She gave a firm nod as the man lead the way inside to the store. This will be an opportunity she will not waste as she followed inside with the parchment still in her hand.
Image
After a few hours, Shizuka had finally arrived at the town proper of Edo. She had taken her time to read the parchment. It was for the recruitment of ronins. There was only the time and the place of meeting written. No other explanations. She was not certain what the job is exactly but to require such ads meant that whatever it could be shall be quite a herculean task or these people are desperate. It intrigued her though; the primary motivation is the money. In any case, she navigated herself through the streets of Edo and finally found the place. She had expected a lot of people, but they all appear to be leaving. Was the recruitment finished already? That would not do. Her eyes narrowed distinctively as she made her way through the throng of ronins departing.

One curious soul, took noticed of her as she felt a large hand placed on her shoulder stopping her advancement. "Oi! Bozu! Ya better steer clear of this one. It's the Kobayashi. It's a suicide mission! I tell ya!" Her eyes took a sharper degree as it hardened into steel daggers. She looked at the man as she slapped the hand away from her form. That reaction of hers took the older male by surprise. It might be a helpful advice from the clearly older ronin's perspective. However, she does not take lightly being called a boy or better yet being underestimated of something so quickly. "Tsk! Fine, don't say I didn't warn ya!" She turned her back on that man and went on her way. Her time would not be wasted towards cowards and moreover, the moment she heard Kobayashi, she now has a conclusion what this job could entail, it would entail her chance. There was no way she would not participate in it.

Entering the dojo, she took stock of the individuals present inside. There were quite a handful of people left, interesting in their own way as well. That was good, less competition for her. She had managed to hear the ending portion where the name Yousuke had been mentioned. Clearly, her face twisted in anger while her hands turned into fists as she clenched it tightly. The parchment which she still held was all but a crumpled mess. Even the mention of the hefty reward did not abolish her rage as one should expect. The pensive silence was broken by two, one who asked what would be done when it is all over, the other, the extent of the monetary compensation. As for her, she walked with a brisk and determined purpose, cutting across the others, towards the man who she believed is in charge of the recruitment. She does not need such answers nor to communicate any questions. This was the moment she had been waiting for so long, she will not let it slip away from her grasp.

Without a wasted motion, she removed her katana confined within its scabbard from her waist and presented it to the said man. She was not clearly acquainted with the manner of proper conduct a samurai should do when presenting one's service. Why would she? For one, she was never a samurai to begin with. This was the best gesture she could do along with those deep blue eyes of hers resembling that of cold molten blades. They were filled with an unyielding resolve and a flaming rage unhinged. This for one was definitely a personal matter to her. She was going to do this job even if it would be the last thing she does in her life. Her vengeance will be finally realized and that at this moment is her primary motivation.

Well, as it would appear, her day was truly a lucky one in various means.Image

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Haru Katsuro

Image


With a sudden gasp, Katsuro sat up in the pile of hides, blankets and cloths he called a bed in a hot sweat, panting lightly. After a minute of heavy breathing he finally calmed down and his breathing evened out. He stood up, pulled on the only set of clothes he could legally call his own as well as the remnants of his armor. He frowned, feeling something uncomfortable against his chest. After a moment of digging he pulled out a very wrinkled scrap of paper, an ad meant to recruit ronin such as himself. "Oh yeah... That was today. Hmph." Well if he was going to meet a lord he might as well attempt to look good. He turned to the broken piece of bronze he used as a mirror and did his best to comb the knots and dirt out of his hair. Unfortunately the comb was not up to the task, and snapped in half before the job was complete. Cursing his luck and his poverty, he completed the job to the best of his abilities with half of a comb and called it good. He then washed his face and neck in the cracked basin just below the mirror and stared into his distorted reflection. Almost fortunately, he'd always had problems growing facial hair so he appeared to be quite clean shaven, and his face was as clean as he could get it without soap and a clean rag. He nodded to his reflection, made his clothes look as presentable as possible, which still made him look homeless, but like a homeless man with some measure of dignity at least. Looking around the shack he'd called home for the past few months and the meager belongings therein, he quickly arrived at the conclusion that he would never be returning to this hovel. He gathered the few things he owned into a piece of hide; a now broken comb, a set of clean bandages, a pakage of dried meats, and a sealed envelope containing the only proof that he was indeed of noble birth. His only other belongings were the clothes and armor upon his back, his sword which he kept at his side, and the piece of hide in which his belongings were kept. With all his belongings in tow, he slipped out the door of his small shed and into the bustling streets of the slums where he'd taken residence.

The hard packed dirt of the slum streets kicked up dust with every step, and there were many people taking many steps, leaving a heavily condensed cloud of dust in the air at almost every moment. Most people moved quickly out of his way, anyone openly carrying a sword in the slums was a man most people wanted to avoid, and those who did not required only a glance to be cowed out of his way. They disgusted him, the hundreds of thugs who patrolled this area like vultures, all looking for a mouthful of the still rotting carcass of what was once part of the city. Many of them he'd encountered before, those men were wise enough to avoid a second confrontation, some still bore the wounds of said engagement. Others however eyed him with open contempt and an air of arrogance, others even openly laughing. "A one armed man, clinging to his broken pride as a Samurai! Ha!" He chose to ignore these snide remarks, he had more important business today than to beat some sense into a bunch of thugs and lowlifes.

After entering the city proper, he made his way into the grounds of the Kobayashi family and into the dojo. There were alot of men in here, likely seeking a quick shot into fame or wealth... many of them wouldn't survive an actual encounter with the warlord they were going against. Then again, he might not survive a second encounter himself. He chuckled and took a seat not far from the front, a few men made room for him, giving him odd looks.

His hunch proved to be correct, for as soon as the man in charge, his name was Kohaku Souji if he recalled, told the men his name, all but one other ronin left. They knew that the Daimyo Yousuke had attacked the Kohaku family, and that this would be a mission of revenge. Though just as they had left, three more stumbled in quite late. One man was nearly as wide as he was tall, appearing to be chiseled from stone as opposed to flesh. The second appeared to be not but a fair skinned boy with hair the color of straw, a foreigner obviously. The last was perhaps the strangest, most easily described as both beautiful and handsome. An interesting crowed had gathered here. He wondered how it would go.

The man who had been here longest, near the back of the room, inquired as to the Kobayashi family's intentions after the missions completion. Katsuro had also been curious on this matter, but quickly dismissed it. His priority lied in the dethroning of the warlord, if the Kobayashi family had dishonest intentions he would dispose of them afterwards.
Next, the large man inquired as to the size of their reward. While this was a great bonus for him, this was of little concern. His reward would be the head of one dead warlord.

The most surprising thing though, was the handsome man blatantly and boldly walking up to their host and, unsheathing his blade, presented it to the man. This certainly piqued his curiosty, for it showed the man was concerned with neither the reward nor the severity of their situation, only that they were a part of it. He couldn't help but grin at this point and had to fight back a chuckle.
"It seems you've gathered quite an interesting force to your cause, Kohaku-dono."
He turned and motioned to each member of the new rag-tag team of discarded warriors as he mentioned them.
"A calculating samurai, a mercenary for hire, a blonde haired foreigner and what is certainly one of the boldest ronin I've seen in a few years." At this point he let out a small chuckle as he allowed himself to relax, his muscles slowly untensing. He'd been unsure of how the situation was going to develop, but so far he saw no reason to keep his guard up so high. "I suppose you can add a one armed veteran to that roster as well. Haru Katsuro at your service. I look forward to our time working together."
After introducing himself, he straightened and looked straight ahead, the normally dull fire in his eyes now burned brightly, though he remained composed and dignified in the presence of the man he would now serve.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

It was disheartening to say the least that only five men stayed behind, interested in the job, but not unsurprising. This mission they were to embark on was no mere task, and suicidal, even given the reward. The men that stayed were either unaware of who Daimyo Yousuke was or particularly bold. Most did not seem bold, but one did, with the air of a trained and controlled individual, which was promising. He could, and would soon, settle for worse. That same ronin asked the first question.

Souji was taken aback by it, not expecting anyone to ask such a thing, what will the Kobayashi do when they rule again? Not the question of a man merely interested in money. Maybe even if for money this person did not wish to work for a tyrant. Souji didn't want to assume that the man was implying the Kobayashi were tyrants but the implication irked him slightly. He paused before answering, looking the ronin before him square in the eye. "It isn't my place to question such matters, but I am told Lady Kobayashi's parents will-" Souji's eyes widened slightly as he turned his head. He was interrupted rather rudely, but that wasn't what had surprised him. Some sort of foreigner, made obvious by his hair and garb, entered, or rather bounced, in with an older bushi.

Souji did not recognize this bushi in the slightest, though they had indeed met before, but didn’t intend to reward his rudeness either way. He turned back to finish speaking to the ronin who had asked the first question, “They are an honorable people, the province flourished in their reign and will do so again I expect. As for the reward...” Souji turned his head to the older bushi, “And the reward will be more than any here have been paid for any one task certainly, there are also titles and land you will be offered.”

A rather young looking ronin seemed to make up their mind at this. Souji could hear the familiar sound of a katana being unsheathed, it made him unconsciously place his hand on the hilt of his own, carefully and casually, not inviting conflict. He turned to view what looked to him like a young boy offering him his unsheathed sword, a look of passionate determination etched into every inch of their face, especially their eyes. He felt compelled to meet them with his full attention. “In the future, the way to present your sword in service is sheathed.” He coolly lowered their blade with two of his fingers, “But you are accepted none the less.” Not that refusing them would deter them, so he suspected. Did the offer of a family title mean so much to them?

A voice broke Souji away from their intense gaze, one of the ronin who stayed. The man had only one arm, but held himself with all the surety of someone that could hold their own regardless. “Interesting indeed.” He agreed. “Though I have only two confirmed. Is the foreigner just here for sight seeing?” Souji turned slightly, asking over his shoulder. Foreigners here for trade and exotic distractions didn’t belong entangled in political matters, he wouldn’t be surprised if the foreigner didn’t even speak their language. This other bushi was likely some sort of guide or translator for them and was about to drag them into a mess they didn’t ask for.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Gray
Image




Now that the youth was getting a look around the room he could notice the subtle details that reminded him, he truly was in a land far away. The mats beneath their feet were made of what appeared to be tightly knitted straw, woven into a floor which was both durable and infinitely reusable. There were minimal decorations strewn about as well, some wooden katana, and some real ones. This might have been a place to train soldiers. The garbs of all of those around the boy were mostly darker colors, and they looked rather rough. Yet, despite all of these unfamiliar trappings, the boy felt as if he had been here before. All of these had been parts of the stories the older man had told Alexander when he was a boy. The smells, albeit different than Alex Imagined, were mostly pleasant. No matter what country it was, chamber pots, or latrines were par for the course, but despite that the country air was cleaner than most cities around Europe, and the men here all seemed to have bathed which was a far cry different than what modern science spoke of back home.

Speaking of the men, they too were different than Alexander expected to see. Most were around his height, a few taller. They were all largely different from one another as well. Despite the long haircuts, and katanas at their sides. One man smelled like master, the smell was similar to gunpowder, but it was richer, it tickled the senses, and gave Alexander a feeling of weariness. But he was handsome enough. There was enough ruggedness to his features, that it looked as if he had seen combat. Yet, a softness, something rarely seen in Europeans. There was another, too, he was missing an arm, and seemed more grizzled. And yet a third offering their blade to the man in charge. While it might have been hard to see Alexander’s eyes were lighting up with Joy! He was in the center of another of his sensei’s stories, he could feel it. Alexander tugged on Fumio’s long, flowing, coat, to bug him about how true to his word he was. His master swatted his hand away. This shocked the young man, his master was so stoic, so stalwart… he was truly a samurai! Out of all the men in his room, Alexander guessed, no! He knew! His master was truly a man without equal.

Eventually, however the man in the center spoke directly about Alexander. His Japanese was perfect, his speech was exactly like that which Alexander had been dreaming of for so long. Oh! How he longed to speak such pretty sentences, and have the skills to utilize the weapon at this man’s side. The old man looked tough, and withered, a man who had seen a lifetimes worth of ordeals. When he addressed Alexander, he must have been uncertain of the young man's speaking capabilities. Alexander knew why he could be hesitant, but the the blonde had been trained by the best Japanese teacher any man could ask for. “I SPEAK JAPANESE! KOH-NI-CHI-WA! My name is Alexander Ornstein III, and I hail from the land of Austria. I come here to be with Master, and be Samurai!” Alexander was trying to hold his composure, amidst a group of such mighty warriors, he tried… he really did, yet his features betrayed his thoughts. He was happy! Extremely overjoyed to be in the presence of these fabled warriors. ”I will stay by Master Hajime Fumio’s side, until his task is done. Then maybe I will be Samurai? And I can hunt monsters and go home.” There was a small problem. Now that someone had given the young man the chance to speak Japanese, it would take quite a lot to shut him up.

”I promise, I won’t get in the way. I am a skilled hunter, and forest man.” If there was any place Alexander wanted to be most in this world, it was right here. He was trying his best to make certain that he would be staying by his master’s side till the very end of this mission.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image


Hah, that Kohaku guy was making inappropriate eyes at Hajime. Does he like what he sees?! Hajime would have to turn down his charm sooner than he planned; he doesn't swing that way, bastard.

Truth be told, Hajime was hoping that kid would get lost in the crowd, or get distracted by something shiny and wander off. He realized the chance was slim, but took some comfort in the chance being there. Yet, the comfort came to pass, and his good tidings failed him. It was irksome in a sort of inevitable way that Kohaku came to address the golden elephant that had toddled into the room.

It took damn near every kiloliter of sheer temperence to keep his spine rigid, his teeth locked together, and his eyes fastened shut. As if in meditation, he spared no reaction, no trace of a loss in composure he listened to Alexander rattle off in what was practically a language all of his own; not to say that his accent was unsalvagable, but the contents of which he spoke... It was like Hajime had dragged in a washed up stage comedian who was trying a new routine. In a foreign goddamn country. Hajime was going to let the comedian play his role, say what he wanted.

But they never discussed this "becoming samurai" part of the speech. "What are you going on about..." muttered Hajime under his breath, still avoiding eye contact. He couldn't say the kid was a full-on lunatic though; it was clear that he'd earnestly thought through what he wanted to say, though not necessarily how best to say it. After an extensive sigh and display of patience that rivalled Buddha, Hajime spoke. "Pay him no heed, I'll talk to him later. Personal matter, you understand."




Alexander listened as his master spoke. Deep down inside he knew that Samurai were supposed to be firm, and stoic. The young man realized this must be what Sensei Fumio wanted from him. Now the only problem would be to try to keep his eyes from welling from sheer joy. Well, baby steps.




That seemed to placate the boy, for some reason. At least he remembered how to be respectful when the adults were speaking. Now that that was over with...

Of those remaining in the room, he found it difficult to determine their cause for being there. Not that his own reasons were black and white, but it was a tricky situation--no one sane would want to be present. Two were fueled by personal vendetta, judging from their eager dispositions. One even drew his damn sword to illustrate a point. If Hajime tried that, people would think he was an asshole. The unfairness of it all. The other one... one... hmm. Well, he had one of something. Hajime would like to see how he fared in a fight. He cracked his neck, loudly, and slowly began what prefaced all his business transactions: negotiation.

"Listen, I grace this here dojo with my presence today 'cause the job sounds interesting. When you get to my age that's what keeps you alive, yeah?" He resisted the urge to agree with himself with a fuck yeah. Normally he had little restraint and self-censorship, but they were in a dojo. Hajime could stand to behave, if only a little. He visibly glanced around the room, corner to corner: "From the looks of it, royal retainer, it looks like you'll need all the people you can get. Warlord Yousuke, right? Bands upon bands of bastards and demons at his beck and call. Comes with bein' a warlord. Lotta shit to wade through. Lotta effort for... two people. Three, countin' you. Maybe four if you can get that handsome face over there to swear fealty, too."

"Now, me? I do this for a living, daily basis. Like to think I'm good at it. Ask anyone on the street and they can give you my success rate. You get me on board, you have a fighting chance even against demons. If you don't... technically you didn't lose a thing 'cause you never had me in the first place, eh? But I can't promise you'd be better off."

Then he leaned forward, his tensing, taut arms like tree trunks supporting the weight of his massive torso. The very air grew heavier. "You wanna make it really interesting, talk to your lady. From the sounds of it, money is no object to her. Forget the title and the land. Start up a base pay that increases with each key figure we butcher, and I can tell you now she'll be sitting pretty on a throne of a thousand heads."

He sat upright once more, as if suddenly disinterested, glancing at the door. "But that's just my suggestion. 'Course nobody ought to get paid if Yousuke ain't dead along with them, but if you want warriors, you gotta give 'em some incentive."

And then he let the dead dog lay in the street, as it were, and he would be indisposed until someone came to touch it first.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Kohaku Kana Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

At best the attempt made to speak ningen could be seen as endearing, and it was more than many of his kind even bothered to learn. Souji could see the honor in that, in the attempt and good intention. At worst the foreigner boy was rude and grossly presumptive. Becoming a Samurai was no hobby for a foreigner to take up or skill to obtain for temporary consumption and bragging rights. Being Samurai was a way to live one's life, and training began when one was much younger than the boy in front of him. Souji couldn't help but feel irked by the insult, but if the older ronin was his master he couldn't blame the boy for his rudeness or ignorance. In fact it would explain the behavior quite well. So Souji kept his expression even, listening politely as this Alexander O-renshtin three individual tumbled through an explanation of why he was here. At the very least the boy was a forest man, which could be useful in theory. What was that about monsters?

Souji wanted to smirk at the expression on the older ronin's face, as his student's voice was entirely his fault. It made having to hear Alexander speak worth it. He wanted to, but didn't, his face rarely made such expressions at all. Souji nodded when the older ronin said he would deal with the boy later, Alexander quelled himself, something that seemed to take quite a bit of willpower on his part.

The older ronin continued on in a speech that was much more eloquent in grammar but no less rude, how astounding. His points however, rang truthful. Going against a notorious warlord was a tall order, and with so few, the tactics to be successful would need to be creative to put it lightly. Demons however, youkai, did this old man really mean that, or was that a mataphor for the level of skill Yousuke's warriors held. Souji decided it was most likely the later. He continued to insist he would be the deciding factor of success, this man was as humble and he was gracious, and demand for a flat rate per head. Souji's eyes became darker when he referred to Lady Kobayashi as 'that lady', his cool openness turning to ice. He had to remind himself that it was for his mistress's sake he was here, and for her sake that he would not throw this man out immediately.

"The Honorable Lady Kobayashi's terms are not negotiable." He emphasized her proper title, his voice unfriendly and cold. "For those coming, we meet at the northeastern gate at dawn tomorrow. You have until then to get your affairs in order. You are all welcome to join this mission. I will assume that those who are not there are not interested, in which case I, Kohaku Souji, thank you for your time. Dismissed." Souji addressed everyone in the room with a clear voice, quickly ending the meeting, he found he no longer had the patience for the direction this meeting turned. He opened the sliding door indicating for people to leave, they had imposed upon the Kobayashi abode for longer than necessary in his opinion.



ImageKana hurried to the dojo, arriving just as people dwindled out, when she saw such small numbers she stopped, her look of hope leaving her face for a moment, she stopped. Oh. This hadn't gone so well. Neither had her own ventures to be honest, which was disheartening too. She mustered up a smile anyway, nodding a bow to a few as she passed, walking more slowly to her where her father stood. She got a strange feeling from one of the men, he was extremely tall, and familiar? She didn't know, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She stared slightly as she passed him, looking away when she realized that she was being rude. How peculiar, she had felt the same way earlier today when she met that one vagabond.

She reached her father and stood at the base of the steps patiently, "Father, was that a foreigner? He had straw colored hair, I've never seen that before. And how strange his clothes are too, he's wearing a blanket on his shoulders." She could see her father was not happy with the way things had gone immediately, he was tense. Well, more tense than usual. They would get through this somehow, she didn't know how, but they had to. It was her father's duty as Samurai to take back the honor taken from the Lady Kobayashi. Kana could feel her heart tighten.



"Ah, Kana, I didn't see you this morning. Why don't we have lunch at that place you like and you can ask me all the questions you wish." The sight of his daughter was like a wave of warmth over the cold Souji, he even smiled.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Kohaku Kana Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK



Image



Admittedly, Ryūnosuke was not fully devoted to keeping track of all the discussion after his query was answered. He honestly cared little for the money, if only because he’d never seen the need for it, especially, and even less for the title promised in the event of their success, which would be more hindrance than help. It was already hard enough to explain to a small village full of people that he must just be terribly lucky not to age a day in ten years—he didn’t want to imagine trying to figure out how to explain it to a household or anything like that. While not every yōkai took it seriously, it was still incumbent upon them not to make the existence of their kind obvious to ningen.

The sound of a sword being drawn did demand his attention, but when it proved to be a seemingly-earnest gesture rather than a hostile one, he chose to keep his piece.

Being already placed near the back of the room, he seemed to mostly escape notice, minus a few cursory glances, usually just part of surveys of the general room, he supposed. He counted himself lucky that his appearance was not especially eye-catching; he’d had enough of that for more than one lifetime. As the conversation carried on, he folded his hands into his sleeves and took up a faintly meditative posture, fixing his eyes somewhat listlessly on a random spot on the floor in front of him. It looked like every other dojo floor he’d ever seen, but that was not what held his interest.

He let his thoughts occur as they would, not bothering to filter them yet, nor make judgements about their relative merits. That was for later. Or rather, if he ever got there; he was quite suddenly snapped from his reverie by the exuberant outburst of the yellow-haired man, a foreigner rather than a yōkai by the accent and the smell (when was the last time he’d bathed, anyway?). Ryūnosuke’s brows drew together slightly as he processed the oddly-inflected words, trying to remember which way European names were supposed to be understood. Was it family name first or given name? What was the ‘three’ supposed to mean? Was Austria even in Europe? He should have paid more attention to his lessons instead of constantly trying to escape them, perhaps.

He shook himself slightly as the exchange moved on, the older man stepping in seemingly… somewhat on the youth’s behalf, and Ryūnosuke went back to his practice of laying out all the available information and cataloging his own impressions of it. Such a decision was a delicate thing to make, and there were a number of important factors to be considered—

And it would seem that they had to make it by tomorrow. Tomorrow? As someone who was used to having weeks to think over something relatively trivial, like whether to settle the guests on the east or west side of the estate, the fact that he had a deadline that soon for a decision of this magnitude was decidedly off-putting. Then again… not everyone had an interminable number of years to live. Still, were even humans normally this hasty, or was time just that much of the essence?

Exhaling through his nose, but not sighing, he told himself, he stood and left the building with the others, ushered out by a host seemingly grown impatient with them. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to what was being said, and thus given himself some idea of why. On his way out, arms still folded together, he passed a young lady, more noticeable, honestly, because she smelled slightly out-of-season than for anything else. Actually, that… he discreetly sniffed. Ah. Well, that was unexpected.

He only turned his head in the right direction as they were about to pass, catching her eyes entirely by mistake, but inclining his head anyway. From the snippet of conversation he caught a few seconds later, she was Kohaku-sama’s daughter.

Pursing his lips and not-sighing again, he found himself standing in relative proximity of both the youth who had offered his sword unsheathed, and the man with but one arm. These two, he had gathered, were already committed to the cause. Perhaps, if he inquired of them, they would be willing to tell him why, something that might help his own decision.

“A most unusual set of circumstances,” he ventured, his voice pitched quietly, but not hesitantly. “I fear I know little of them. Had either of yourselves prior knowledge of this Yousuke-san?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Kohaku Kana Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image
Image
Shizuka fought every natural reflex within her body that commanded her to look for the source of that booming yet humane sound. This was due to the laughter which echoed through the room. She was certain that she was not the only one rattled by such a sound of merriment and interest. Though, this did not deter her from the gesture of her resolve towards the man she believed to be the one in command. His answer in regards to the aftermath of this mission had no effect on her. Empires, regimes, and governments fall all the time. It will stay true no matter who are fighting on the opposing sides of the quadrants. That is simply how this world revolutionizes itself, how life enters a cycle. As for the physical reward, it did give a pleasant music to her ears. There was no need for title on her part, just the jiggling sound of coins would be enough. She did at first arrived to this recruitment for that purpose. But at this moment, it is considered a bonus. For her main reward, the opportunity to kill the infamous Warlord Haru Yousuke is what truly drives her to be a part of this dangerous enterprise.

No matter the case, her gesture was answered. Those deep blue eyes of hers were soon met by honey brown ones. She could see that this man was reflecting her seriousness at equal lengths. There was no humor in it. That made this person agreeable to her despite being corrected about presenting one's sword in regards to service. She did not find any offense on that as she does not have any idea of such conduct. Instead, she presented a look of slight apology with a shrug of her shoulders to imply her nonchalant ignorance of it. She then took a step back as if to say, it will not happen again. With her katana in hand, she proceeded in returning the ebony blade back into its scabbard. Her burst of rage had been extinguished by the conversations being thrown within the room. As far as she could tell, there are only two who had been enlisted to the cause who included her and the man who had expressed joviality of the people gathered here today.

Her eyes traveled to the said man who stood out due to what he is missing and that would be an arm. Most people would have wallowed in self-pity of being relieved of an arm or be consumed by fear. This one is of strong spirit. Well, it was the only compliment she would give in repayment for the man calling her 'boldest ronin'. Unfortunately, she will not be able to voice that. In any case, the attention inside the room shifted to another or more specifically, a foreigner. It was a boy with hair like that of wild wheat and the oddest set of clothes she had ever seen as of now. Curious as she is, her head tilted to the side. It was a habitual quirk of hers when something had caught her interest which is a rarity these days. Unknown to her, she did exude a minor childlike innocent demeanor, but for a minute amount. The boy was asked if he was a tourist. Yet, the question which could be answered by a simple yes or no was reciprocated with an enthusiastic chatter of the foreigner. There was no doubt in Shizuka's mind that the boy was enamored by the ideas of samurai and was it mentioned, monsters?

Apparently, the stories of people living beyond the seas are true. They are delusional when factors are considered. What did this gaijin expect to do in this country? This place is not for theatrical plays of the naive and incredibly foolish people, a prime example, the foreigner. But then again, it would probably be good to crush such annoying traits into bits. The world is not a playful hunt drummed by excitement. It is very cruel for everyone including her. In the end, they are nothing more but preys being consistently hunted whether what it could be, that entirely depends on the specific individual. She could tell from the start that interaction with the gaijin would be limited by her at a distance. Her dislike for naivety has been set in stone. Though, the ideas being spouted by the foreigner seemed to come from this master the boy spoke.

She believed that would be the older man nearby. Well, the man certainly radiates a presence of a seasoned warrior, expected from the age she could perceive him to be. At the same time, he is a person who had adapted well to the harsh wilderness that is of Nippon from the manner he speaks. She did not find anything offending in his suggestions though, the bit underlining of his words in which measuring her ability against that scum of a warlord without even being specific, irks her. This was reflected with her eyes narrowing to a noticeable degree. Her and this man will not get along. She could tell that much. Though, she does not mind earning an incentive through decapitated heads. That however was rebuked by their employer outright. How sad. She slightly shrugged her shoulders and then allowed her gaze to travel on the other side of the dojo where an individual described as calculating stood by.

Those eyes of hers quickly narrowed and her lips pressed together in contemplation. It would seem that this job had assembled men with skill and if she is mistaken, then a death wish perhaps. In any case, there was another thing which bothered her immensely. She was obviously the shortest of everyone here and not by a simple inch or two. All of these males towered her. Her complex about her height began to rear its ugly head on her confidence. It made her wonder if there is a drug that would make her taller overnight. She had already tried drinking milk. It had not served her well as much as she could tell. Furthermore, these giants will not be good for her neck as she would need to constantly look up when in conversation. Well, she could do away with that by keeping to herself which she had always done before.

Removing her eyes from the calculating man, her eyes returned to their employer. The man spoke of meeting at the northwestern gate by dawn tomorrow. She would have wanted to start now. It would mean she would have to worry about her living necessities for a while until then. This made her pursed her lips in thought with her arms cross over her chest. She would need to entertain herself a bit more. With that, she made herself to the exit where they were being pushed towards to. It was much she could tell from the one in-charge. She would not blame him for she would do the exact thing. No further actions on her part, she let herself out of the dojo without bothering with the others. Ronin like them had always been alone; they make acquaintances, purely professional links, nothing more.

It was still uncertain if all of them would be together for this job. So, she sees no need for any interactions from her part. Though, she did notice someone coming towards them. It was a girl and another stab to her complex, the female was still taller than her. Why does everyone just towered over her? Is she a midget by nature? This was really frustrating as she closed her eyes briefly at this. She would need to increase her intake of that milk. When she did open her eyes, she saw the girl bowing her head, a polite gesture. There was no doubt the girl was still young. It reminded her something or rather someone. She then looked over her shoulder following the female who went towards her employer. Not stopping from her stride, she had managed to hear the word father. So, that is the connection, family. There was a haze of sadness in those eyes of hers, but only for a moment.

Returning her eyes to the front, she noticed the one described earlier as calculating spoke of their situation as a set of unlikely matters. To an outsider and unfamiliar one, it would seem just as that. However for her, that bastard Yousuke he speaks of should see this coming. This was but preordained. People who enact bloodshed must be prepared to receive such equal payment, though she would not mind giving an incentive of additional blood in regards to the targeted warlord.

Stopping from her tracks, she was also able to halt her mind from creating very realistic images of torture for the warlord in question. For now, her attention was taken. Her eyes gauged the man at a closer proximity and she could already tell that a green-eyed monster was starting to have a grip on her. Why could she not look like him instead? Tall, handsome, and cool-looking, something one would expect of a samurai or ronin. That is it, this man is a rival, a threat. Her eyes narrowed as she took a step back to keep distance. Then, she rolled her eyes in a manner to imply that she believed him to be an idiot. Actually, she was actually feeling pretty good about herself. She knows something that this man does not. One point for her. Not wanting to waste her time and to flaunt her self-proclaimed victory, she glanced at the one-armed man. This one should be sociable enough to provide as a conversation partner.

With that, she dismissed her presence before them by making her way to the town. Whether they meet later or tomorrow, she does not care. For now, she would need to pass time in which she could secure a lodging for the night. And that is the only thing on her mind right now as she silently contemplated her choices, placing her sandogasa back on her head.
Image

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haru Katsuro Character Portrait: Fumio Hajime Character Portrait: Kohaku Souji-sama Character Portrait: Alexander Ornstein III Character Portrait: Kohaku Kana Character Portrait: Honda Shizuka Character Portrait: Kurosawa Ryūnosuke
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Haru Katsuro


After he had made his introduction there was quite a lot of debate flying about the room, and soon attention was brought to the... well quite frankly the elephant in the room. The enthusiastic, blonde, squeaky elephant with horrible Japanese. Really, it was awful. An assault on their language would be an understatement. Despite the foreigner's horrid attempt at speech, he somehow managed to convey his reasons for being here, he could only assume that his master was the rather large, and extremely rude, man beside him. As for the part about becoming samurai... That was decidedly odd. True many foreigners were fascinated with their culture and the ways of Bushido, he'd had to deal with a few himself during his military service, but he'd never met any truly desiring to become samurai. It was both parts amusing and disturbing, especially how enthusiastic he was about it. There was also something in there about hunting monsters, which brought up some rather unpleasant memories.

He reached over and gently massaged his nub of a shoulder as the discussions continued, the majority of which simply sounded like empty bragging on the larger man's part, as well as the request for more pay. Well, he couldn't blame the man for such a request, they were going after one of the deadliest men in Japan, and possibly even on earth. To ask great compensation for such, while extremely rude in this case, was not particularly uncalled for. Still, this man irked him to no end, he could practically feel his ego swelling as he spoke. He refrained from saying anything, simply in order to avoid causing any more tension than was already in the room. However their host obviously felt that enough was enough, and who could blame him, denying the man's request and calling an end to their meeting. Any interested parties were to meet tomorrow at dawn by the northeastern gate.

Picking up his bundle and slinging it over his shoulder as he stood up, his brow furrowed for a moment. He had already decided he would not be returning to the shack in the slums which he had previously stayed in, so where would he go? Plagued by this oversight in his plans, he stepped out of the dojo, though before he left he turned and bowed to Kohaku.
Thank you for your hospitality. I shall see you tomorrow as ordained. Good day." And with that he left, though not before seeing a young lady running up to the dojo, straight towards Kohaku. He didn't catch much of their conversation as he was walking away, just next to the bold yet silent ronin from before, but he did catch "Father". Content for now to walk in silence while he determined where he would spend the coming night, when the pair was approached by the rather tall, actually extremely tall now that he sees the man standing, samurai who had sat towards the back of the room. Katsuro bowed his head in quiet greeting, hoping that the two of them could start out on the right foot, they would hopefully be comrades after all. He then inquired as to their knowledge of the warlord, claiming he had very little understanding of the subject. Katsuro very nearly cringed at the subject, but it was a fair question given the circumstances. The quiet man merely seemed to dismiss the two of them and wandered off into town, piquing his curiosity slightly. There was definitely a story to be told there, if the man would ever open his mouth.

After quietly debating how much he should tell the man, he decided there was no reason to hide anything, hiding things this early could sow distrust later.
"I do in fact know a bit of the man, on a bit of a personal level. The rumors about him are, unfortunately, not an exaggeration. If they were, I might still have an arm."
Even Katsuro couldn't completely mask the shame he felt at that moment, having lost not only the fight but his arm and a great deal of his honor in a single night. A deep breath and a small grunt brought him back to his norm and the conversation at hand.
"If you're seriously considering this venture, then I suggest you not underestimate this opponent, nor those he employs." Feeling he'd said all that needed saying, he bowed politely and turned to leave, but he suddenly felt an urge, no more like an instinct to turn his head and say "I'll see you tomorrow morning, stranger." before he walked off into town in search of an Inn that would take him in. He then realized he still had that coin-purse from yesterdays thugs. With a light grin, he picked up his step, visions of tempura and a soft bed dancing in his head.