Curse their luck so far. Kana herself had managed to gain one samurai, her father another, but no more then that. Although it was quite curious that the father and daughter had managed to gain Ronin who were polar opposites; Ankoku and Genkaro couldn’t be more different. One a wolfish half Mongol, the other as polite as could be; although it honestly mattered little, since this was not a good or bad thing; Lady Chinatsu required their strength, not their charm.

It seemed that other than these two, the rest in the vicinity of restaurants were nothing but half witted and weak, Kana had rudely thought more than once that perhaps they were Ronin because they were so weak that their master’s tossed them aside. But rather than waste more precious time, Kana thought to organize a try-out session. A gathering where Ronin would have to prove themselves through actual battle rather than talk; their opponents would be herself, her father, and the two they had recruited. The signs announcing such a gathering had been up in the bars, and various feeding places (and a brothel) for all to see. The place was just outside of town, a green plane with plenty of room, the same direction they would be headed to find Lady Chinatsu in hiding at a family friend’s abode. From there, the Samurai would get an advance in their pay, and then they would start their attack. What that plan of attack was….they weren’t sure. In fact it plagued Kana’s mind, but Chinatsu-dono had not stopped to think of any sort of plan, she wanted blood, and she wanted it now. The once gentle lady was now slightly off these days. Kana herself had been affected negatively too, she ate rarely now, and her dreams held no comfort for her. Only recently had she started to actually smile, rather than stare blankly at nothing. This was particularly after she had acquired the promised help of who she called the two wolves. Yajuu and Ankoku had certainly made her more talkative, mostly Yajuu though, she found him to be cute, and in fact was petting him now as she sat on a boulder, letting out the third sigh since the morning. No one had stepped up yet, no one.

“I even put a sign up at the brothel, which should have attracted at least a couple….” Kana stated, annoyed, to Yajuu. He seemed to sympathize with her. She made a pouty face at him and then cracked a grin. Her wide and innocent eyes had been enamored with curiosity for the animal, rather than afraid.

And that was when they started to come, one after the other. The problem was not that no Ronin wanted to show up, but rather that they did not wish to rise early. And so they set to work, tossing aside those too afraid to spar with steal, and shaking their heads in disappointment after a few strikes from those who had a lack of skill. It was going well, but no one wanted to take Kana seriously, and so she found she could not judge their skill if the would not draw, quite exasperated with this outcome, Kana removed herself from the Spar, and settled to watch, nodding ‘no’ after examining the strikes of those trying out periodically. “Are we going to find no one?” Kana mused to herself, watching her father disarm yet another poor excuse for a Ronin.

Haru sat cross legged sipping a cup of tea with one hand while fanning himself with the other. He closed his war hand sliding it into his belt as a servant brought him a bowl of steamed rice. Not bothering to look at the mountain of a man that stood before him as he took several bites. “You’ve done your part well enough… and I am satisfied with your upholding of your side of our bargain. Your payment shall be well worth the completion of your contract however… I do not want any lose ends… kill this retainer and if the rumors that Lady Kobayashi survived are true… make them false.” He paused as he took another sip of tea. “ Sayo… sound the gong four times… I need the rest of my… friends.”

The young girl nodded before walking over to the gong and striking it four times as a call for the rest of the Shinobi to assemble. After completing the call she returned to her place at Yousuke’s side incase he required anything else. Her face always seemed static… unchangingly emotionless. She had more then earned her place even if most people outside her lords employ never even heard of her… it just meant they wouldn’t expect as much as someone renowned, which meant they might not be as focused.

“We must prepare for the inevitable retaliation… thus we must know what their doing… and what their plotting for the future…” He said motioning he large westerner back. “This is a discussion for my men and are not for your ears.”

Macfie nodded before walking out of the chamber. He shook his head why did people have to resist… it would be a lot easier if they just gave in and saved him the trouble of hunting them down. Though he guessed people wished to survive… even if only for a matter of minuets longer then they would if they gave up.

Genkaro stepped forwards, waiting for the next Ronin to step up to fight. He was a smallish man whose grip was all wrong, and Genkaro didn't even wait for the shake of Kana's head before disarming the man and shoving his sword to the side. This was pathetic, no Ronin even came close to the skill necessary, some of them not even skilled enough with a sword to have thought about stepping up onto the platform. He gladly relinquished his place to Kohaku, and stepped backwards, turning and walking into the shade.

A drink was what he needed to clear his head, A drink and something else. He picked up some water and slowly took a sip, still thinking. This wouldn't work too well, too many of the Ronin here were no good, he hadn't seen one yet that could stand up to him or Kohaku. He didn't think about Ankoku, and his dog. They weren't quite the same, their style brutal, with no honour in it.

He shook his head once more, dispairingly. There simply wasn't anyone here that would be good enough, not as far as he could see, and the longer they stayed here the more chances they had of being caught by the warlord. His eyes glanced quickly around, it wasn't the warlord that he was scared of, no, not at all. He would have liked to leave this place, but he had given his word and his sword to this conflict, and he would not break it. No, his honour was far too important for that, he could not become unhonourable. It would destroy him. So he sat, and watched Kohaku disarm yet another hopeless Ronin.

Mifune plucked at the freshly boiled noodles in his cup with a pair of chopsticks. His travels south from Echigo had brought the pleasure of tasting cuisines from various towns and villages. He wasn't a picky man when it came to food. A freshly prepared meal with a roof over his head was a royalty enjoyed when given. Yet here he was, discontent in a Soba shop at the heart of Edo with a bowl of noodles that could pass for earthworms. The owner walked over as fast as his old legs would permit. His sincere smile forced Mifune to give the meal another try. It was no use.

"Are you finding your meal satisfactory, sir?" The old man bowed, the top of his bald head glistening with sweat from hardwork in the kitchen.

"A fine delicacy for one who has been on the road for too long." Mifune grabbed his bowl with both hands, sipping at the spiced soup. The ronin tried hard not to gag at the overly sour aftertaste.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait for my payment just a little longer. He'll be arriving shortly." Confused by what Mifune meant, the owner was just about to question him when a customer entered his shop. He was a scruffy looking samurai that wore a blue and white checkered kimono.

"Hello kind sir, would you like a seat?" The samurai ignored the old man's welcome as he walked directly over to Mifune's table. The owner was scared that the two would start dueling in his establishment and ran over to try and get in between them.

"It's alright, old man," Mifune raised his hand, "He's come to pay my tab." The old man looked at the two, armed individuals then bowed sheepishly as he backed off into the kitchen.

"Fifty Ryo, as contracted." The samurai slammed a small, wooden box on the table. "This will be the last payment you'll ever bleed from the Kazuo Clan. Take our money and leave this place!"

Mifune remained calm, now sipping at his tea before placing the box inside a rice sack. "Surely the amount for my services pale in comparison to the potential profit loss your clan would have. If I did not thwart those bandits from your farmlands, you'd be in serious debt with the rice merchants." The samurai glared at Mifune, reaching for the handle of his katana. "You arrogant fool! Our forces would have killed them far quicker than you! If it weren't for our lord's hospitality, I'd have you cut down, here and now!"

Mifune looked up at the proud Samurai.

"And yet... your lord is not here and neither are your forces. Just you and I, with only this generous old man in his humble establishment. I'm sure your honor prefers your death to be preserved for a battlefield than a place such as this."

Mifune-san rose from his seat and bowed to the old man, ignoring the fact that the samurai had now unsheathed his sword. "Thank you for this delicious meal. I'll be leaving now."

It happened at an instant but when it was over, the samurai was on the ground and Mifune was already out the door. The old man rushed over to the Samurai in disbelief. Had his eyes deceived him? His age must be playing tricks on him for he didn't see Mifune draw a weapon. The samurai was rolling on the ground in pain as he clutched his stomach. The old man brought out a rag from his kimono, but as he tried to help the Samurai, he noticed that there were no blood stains.

"Get away from me, old fool! He didn't stab me." The samurai snapped, slowly rising from the ground. "He butted me in the stomach with the hilt of his blade. That bastard..."

The samurai sat down at Mifune's table. The old man realized that the Ronin had left no form of payment, but then recalled his words from earlier.

"Umm...I beg your pardon sir," The owner began, a bead of sweat falling down his face, "but that man said you came to pay his tab...and seeing as how you didn't object to that..."

The samurai shot a frown at the owner.

-----

Mifune whistled his way out of Edo, biting at an apple he purchased from a random vendor. The sour taste of noodles still lingered, but the fresh fruit did well to quench the rest of his appetite. As he paced along the roadway, he noticed that a string of samurai were slowly trudging their way back to Edo. Some had bruises and cuts on their faces, others were holding parts of their bodies in pain. They all had something in common: Each one of them shared an expression of defeat on their faces.

"Excuse me, but what is going on? Was there a battle?" He asked, pulling one of them aside. He was a fairly tall man that looked quite strong.

"Don't even bother if you're not any good. They say they're recruiting swords, but I think its just an excuse to beat random people up."

Mifune remembered that he had seen several posters that talked of needing swords for hire. "How many are there?"

"About four..I think.. I don't remember. The oldest one hit me so damn hard I'm seeing two of you right now. I think one of them had a wolf too."

"Sounds like a great profit venture to me." He said with much interest, biting into his apple once more.

"You'll be sorry. Its right around the bend. You can't miss'em." The tall man sighed before limping forward. Mifune nodded as he continued along the path. Just as he finished his apple, the land gave way to a green plain. Four warriors stood on one side as several other swordsmen huddled in a group across from them. He saw that there indeed was a wolf among the recruiters and even a female. They must be really talented, Mifune thought, observing the disheartened band of reluctant recruits. He chucked the apple core off the side as he walked toward the two groups. He bowed to the eldest then sat on the grassy floor, placing his rice sack full of random belongings next to him as he awaited his turn.

The two men stood opposite each other, eyes narrowed, each fixed on the man opposite. For several seconds, neither moved, both weighing up their opponents, looking for that first opening. Compared to some of men who had already stepped up, this in itself was an achievement, and Nagakama Suzaku felt his mouth twitch in satisfaction. He'd been waiting twenty minutes, long enough to watch at least as many 'samurai' deposited with little decorum onto the dusty ground, or find their swords twisting from between unskilled fingers.

The man across from him had personally accounted for six, beating them into the floor with contemptuous ease, dismissing them with barely a word, only glancing back to the girl lounging redolent on the rock, shaking his head and barking out for the next to step up.

Compared to the men who had come before, Suzaku didnt cut the most imposing figure, and especially not compared to the hulking ogre who stod against him. The man, Kohaku Odama, who Suzaku had established was something to do with the girl who seemed, beyond all expectations, to actually be in charge here, was at least four inches taller, a good thirty pounds heavier, and held his sword with ease borne of experience.

Suzaku didnt even hold a sword. Between his fingers were his walking stick, worn smooth from months of use, held out in front of him, almost in mockery of the other man. And that was beside the fact he wore the vestments of a monk, his rice hat, bag and bowl left lying on the grass. Odama's eyes had narrowed as he'd stepped up, hesitating, looking back at the girl almost in confirmation.

Pretty girl. She had the same eyes as Odama. They had to be related. Strangely enough, she looked a little like the girl he'd spent the last night with, same shaped face, though Kana's expression was filled with nobility rather than insincere smiles. That and boredom. It was during his massage, as the girls fingers were pushing into the muscles of his back, complimenting him on how well built and strong he was, that she'd mentioned something about a poster advertising for swordsmen. Of course the girl had been lying about how muscular he was, the line was too smooth, too practiced, too easy for one paid to make her clients feel good, but the information itself was worthwhile. He'd left a substantial tip, one the girl might even find a portion of, if her mama-san was honest.

Across from him, Odama, sensing the momentary distraction, leapt forward, sword arcing towards Suzaku's neck. Snapping back into the present, reacting entirely on instinct, the monk dodged back and sideways,almost immediately bouncing forwards in his own attack. In that second, it was over.

Both men stopped dead, glaring back into each others eyes. Suzaku broke first, wrinkling an eyebrow at the razor sharp blade that sat half an inch from his jugular vein, shaking his head almost imperceptibly before his gaze travelled up the staff in his hand, the tip resting gently against Odama's solar plexus. If he wasnt wrong, the samurai, all imperiousness before, may have had the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips.

Another breath and Odama's sword was retreating, sheathed in a blur of silver, the man himself taking a step back, nodding his head in a brief bow. Suzaku returned it with his own, deeper bow, then moved past, towards the rock. Another respectful bow to the girl on the rock, paying little attention to the two samurai behind her, the one she seemed intent on petting like an animal and the demonic half-caste giant, then the hat was placed back on his head, a shield against the glaring sun, as he settled down to watch the rest of the duels, Odama even now turning to the men that remained, his harsh voice crowing in triumph.

"Next."

Hmph.” Was all that escaped the Shinobi’s mouth as he peered lazily over the rooftop at the retreating figure of the western armored giant. A curious one to peer at certainly, Yuki had never seen anything like him, the way he spoke, the way he breathed, the way he walked, the way he gazed at things. So foreign to what Yuki had seen. Most people would observe someone’s appearance first, but someone who was a Shinobi was better served paying attention to minute details, rather than something on the surface, for what did it matter what color your hair was if you had a firm step and skillful prowl? And so with listening to muffled voices and watching the man walk away, Yuki already was forming ideas about him, not that he cared really, simply that this was routine.

Yuki had ignored the gong until the hired Samurai was out of sight, sitting on the roof, relaxing with O’Kiku. It was what he usually did, O’Kiku had taken to invading his privacy every now and then, which he only jokingly acted annoyed to. Especially when he chose to lounge on the master’s roof. Yuki motioned to her and got up unceremoniously, not bothering to conceal any sort of noise, and yet still his movements were quiet. He ran a hand through his long and girlish hair, kept around his shoulders rather than tied up due to the nature of his job; He took a quick leap down, and landed crouching to dissipate the energy of the impact into the wood.

He did have a little decency, and it was shown in the way he kneeled in front of the closed thin doors and waited for O’Kiku to do the same. Once prepared, he opened them slowly with his eyes downcast and bowed, “You called for us?” his expression, curiously enough, was not stoic, it never was. At the moment he portrayed boredom, but in an almost sassy manner. As if he was waiting for a challenge impatiently. Which he was.

The ronin watched as the monk wearing a rice hat proved himself against the old samurai with just a walking stick. Many of the men gazed in awe, mostly because he was the first to be accepted. Yet as the old samurai barked, "Next," their enthusiasm quickly shifted. Sensing the hesitation in the remaining swordsmen, Mifune rose from the ground and grabbed the rice sack. He turned to face the older man who commanded a fierce presence. Mifune could tell that had this man truly unleashed his full potential, the men that tried out would be dead, rather than injured. He didn't announce his name, nor did the others. Perhaps it was precautionary. Concealing their identity with an aggressive approach to recruiting swords indicated they were to embark on swift action. Without proclamation of title, ownership, land or clan meant whatever they were planning was big and required utmost discretion. There was no other regiment or band of samurai that stood beside these warriors. What dangers awaited these few? How much profit is there to gain for it? The risks intrigued Mifune even more.

"I am Mifune, a ronin whose last name I cannot announce for the honor of my family. Thank you for this opportunity." He ended the customary introduction with a bow, then let go of his rice bag. As soon as it hit the ground, Mifune exploded forward and closed much space between he and the older samurai. Within several feet Mifune brought to life his katana, though no silver metal flashed against the sun; The scabbard was still attached to his weapon. Bending at the knees with impeccable form, his sword hand gripped the sheathed blade and slashed horizontally at the samurai's chest. If landed, the blade would merely rattle inside the scabbard and thump his opponent. If deflected, Mifune would be sure to execute a smooth finish.

Ankoku stared vacantly at the beastly grey wolf, Yajuu, sitting calmly next to the small girl, Lady Kana. Yajuu had really taken quite a liking to her, and that made Ankoku all the more pleased to be working with her, and her father, who was easily disarming all the pathetic Ronin, aside from the monk, whom Ankoku had thought would simply fall over dead when Odama-san drew his blade. But he had been pleasantly surprised when the man prevailed and walked over to the small group. Ankoku simply nodded to the man as he walked past, then shifted his gaze back to Kana and Yajuu in front of him, although that wasn't the only thing he was watching. The combatants, unknown to them, were under heavy scrutiny by the large half-Mongol. Only two seemed worth any attention, and so Ankoku walked forward, deciding to rid himself of his boredom by testing the both of them.

Ankoku passed by Yajuu and Kana, the wolf tensing up as he walked by, but Ankoku simply held up his free hand, the other gripped on his Naginata, Hateshi, which was resting on his left shoulder, as always. The wolf relaxed again, but kept a watchful eye on Ankoku, who strode over to the group of Ronin, and then selected the two that seemed worthy (or at least the most worthy) then walked over to an empty area in the field, next to where Odama was shaming yet another Ronin.

"You two, come here." He directed at the two Ronin, one of them fairly small, but scarred down his arm, his daisho sheathed on his side, a wakizashi as well as a katana, and he held himself with pride, and combat-ready poise. The other was taller, tall in fact, for a Japanese, the Mongol thought, but did not look like samurai material. He looked cruel, sadistic. And that was how Ankoku himself could sometimes be. He knew this all too well, how much he had changed since he had foresaken his title and become Ronin like all these others. Both of them would very likely provide ample entertainment, and maybe one of them would be good enough to join the small group.

Neither of them said anything as they stepped on either side of the Mongol's monstrous shadow, but simply looked at eachother, confused. Did the beast of a man really intend to fight the both of them at the same time? The answer came without delay, "Draw." The voice came from behind the Menpō hiding the Mongol's face, a savage snarling face hiding his true one, which was completely vacant, the dark eyes sparkling underneath the edge of the Kabuto on his head.

They hesitated, but then Ankoku lifted his large Naginata off his shoulder, and in one hand, pointed the tip of the blade towards the two Ronin, "Draw!" He snarled now, and then rushed towards them. The smaller one reacted first, his hand darting for the hilt of his katana, his eyes showing surprise at how quickly the big man had closed the distance between them. The Ronin was far too slow, the blade of the Naginata was already at his throat, and then a foot raised up and sent him flying away, crashing into the ground, his daisho still sheathed on his side. Then the larger, savage Ronin swung at Ankoku, having taken this opportunity to draw and leap at the Mongol. But Anoku had predicted this exactly, and with the long hilt of his Naginata, sent him spinning three times through the air before crashing down into the ground next to the other Ronin. He remained there, twitching a little, trying to get breath back into his lungs, but the smaller one rose to his feet, drawing out his katana finally, and then took up a stance in front of Ankoku.

Ankoku stuck the spike at the end of the hilt of his Naginata into the ground, and then removed his hand from it. Hateshi stood there, on it's own now, as Ankoku drew out his Uchigatana, Raikou(Lightning), and rushed forward without hesitation or warning, and in one quick, precise motion, sliced the Ronin's wrist, causing him to drop his katana in pain, bringing his wrist up in front of his face with an anguished look on his face. Ankoku smiled underneath his Menpō, which was snarling ever-silently at it's foes.

"You two are finished. Now go." He sheathed Raikou, then retrieved Hateshi before turning to face the group of untested Ronin. "Who's next?" He asked, a hint of laughter echoing with his voice.

O'Kiku, a young kunoichi with spirit of the sun, instantly heard the gong from an official, which commanded “Yuyu” to go to the royal palace where the Warlord resided, so he could inform Yuyu on his mission. O'Kiku just simply followed him from behind. She always looked up to him as a master, even though she's barely known him for one year.

Since they were above the Warlord, it wasn't such an adventure for O'Kiku. She imitated Yuyu's arrival to the Warlord, landing on the wooden pavement. She saw him kneeling to the floor, out of courtesy, so she followed, feeling a little ashamed at how considerably late she was on the command, especially since she was in the palace longer.

Yuyu opened the door in front of them, announcing themselves to the Warlord.

“Enter…” Yousuke commanded awaiting for his Shinobi to file stand in line before him. “My most trusted and loyal servants I have called upon you in a time of great dishonor on the Yousuke family brought on by the failure of the westerner… he failed in the destruction of the Kobayashi family… thus I entrust you three to finish where he failed… use the buffoon if you need muscle… it’s about all he’s good for.” Haru said with a small sliver of disappointment. “I can not rest easy knowing that my family could be openly disgraced if they gain the courage to openly speak of what happened.”

"I am Mifune, a ronin whose last name I cannot announce for the honor of my family. Thank you for this opportunity."

Odama's eyebrows wrinkled almost imperceptibly at the perfect manners of this latest swordsman, taking in the way he stood without fear, the slightest swagger as he'd stepped forward and announced his personal name, leaving that of his clan secret, supposedly for reasons of honour. Clearly he had something to hide, and whether that could prove problematic in the future remained to be seen. Still, all men hold secrets, whether large or small. Casting the thought aside as unimportant, at least until this man Mifune's capability with his sword was known, Odama returned the bow with a nod of his own, taking up a defence-attack position, sword held low and steady.

It was well sent he did, for even as he straightened, Mifune exploded forwards, sword swinging for Odama's chest, not bare, as would have been expected, but still sheathed in its scabbard. A tricky move, one unexpected, obviously aimed to catch an opponent off guard and leave the user in a position to unleash the inevitable killing blow that would follow. Most men would have retreated, or simply stood dumb as the strike drove into their ribs and took their breath away, but then, most men did not have thirty five years of experience with a sword.

Kicking forward, Odama angled himself to catch the strike wide on the back of his own blade, stopping the swing short and leaving himself on the inside of Mifune's guard with sword poised to come down against the mans neck or collarbone. Despite the ferocity inherent in the two mens actions, Odama's face was still oddly serene, mind calm, reacting with practiced ease, a single thought running clear as he closed the distance.

"Lets see what you're truly capable of, samurai."

Another sigh was in danger of escaping Kana’s lips. Genkaro looked fed-up, and she tried to give him a reassuring smile when he sat down, but really it was likely to not help. The last one he had not bothered to wait for her disapproval, he had simply done away with the useless sword-bearer. Her father was up next, and he, rather than getting fed up, was able to maintain at least the allusion of alertness. Whereas most present were heavily losing interest.

Kana gave a lazy half-smile at the glance of her father, before straightening up to stretch. She tilted her head back, and boredly brought it over to gaze at the next abomination to the sword. But instead she found herself suddenly tensing, and her heart sped up in joy as her attention snapped-to. You could tell plenty about a person from their stance, the first stance she had seen all morning that was valid came from a man who held himself with a sort of knowledge. She stayed in place, actually watching this time, and even though it was over in moments, it left her satisfied. She smiled brightly as the only one so far to pass came over to sit with them; the exchange of understanding had been silent. But Kana was tempted to break that dignified silence, luckily she didn’t have to. The others waiting for their turn did it for her. They began whispering and guffawing, suddenly encouraged or discouraged depending on whether they leaned towards an optimistic or pessimistic point of view. Kana mildly noted that her father had gone rather easy on the accepted one though. But obviously one move was all that was needed to gouge that he was no fool with a Katana.

Kana bowed her head in turn and gave him a bright smile, grateful almost. “Welcome, we were in danger of falling asleep at this tirade of skill-less successors. “ She glanced at Yajuu, he was actually asleep, but that soon proved to be false because he perked up after a moment, he was playing? Kana had the strangest notion that this wolf was much more intelligent than they knew. She found that funny and covered her mouth to muffle a giggle before tensing as Ankoku passed. Looks like he got bored with waiting, and she watched as he did away with three others. Meanwhile her father was testing another, more worthy looking opponent.

“That would never work on my father.” Kana noted after the Samurai had made his first move, her eyes were now admiring, as her father was going to make this one stretch a little. Even though the Samurai was obviously much more of a skilled being than those they had been seeing before. “My name is Kohaku Kana, this is Genkaro-san, Yajuu-kun, and the giant over there is Ankoku. The person you were just sparring is Kohaku Odama-sama. May I ask what your name is?” She said mildly, sparking chit chat while still watching the match.

Mifune couldn't help but nod as the samurai parried his attack. The force of deflection showed the elder had excellent balance with strength to match. Indeed, his willingness to come forward and return with his own strike showed his fearlessness as a bushido warrior. He must have been a grand swordsman in his prime, Mifune thought. The samurai's blade arched for his neck. In mere inches Mifune rotated his shoulders, the rest of his body following as he weaved away from his opponent's blade. Had he been of lesser skill, the strike would have surely met target and stab right through him. The samurai's rebuttle forced the fight at close quarters, rendering long ranged strikes inept unless either man retreated to gain proper footing. Mifune realized that if the two experienced swordsmen continued, injuries were bound to occur. No good will come attempting to showboat against a seasoned sword like this man. He needed to end this now.

Mifune's side step to the samurai's right had left an opening. Reeling in like a snake, he stepped even closer to his opponent and raised his katana forward, hilt first with the left hand. Tugging the scabbard back with his right, Mifune placed the slightly revealed blade just at hair's length to the samurai's neck. The execution of the move was left frozen in place; blade not fully drawn from the scabbard yet within an inch of slicing at the old warrior's throat. Mifune's eyes bore an expression matching the calmness reflected in his opponent. He hoped this demonstration left a good enough impression, but wouldn't mind proving himself if the duel were to continue.

The tip of Odama's blade almost brushed against Mifune as the man weaved sideways. Against anyone else today, he would have pulled the attack, certain they wouldnt have had the skill to dodge it, but this man was different. As Mifune ducked out and to his left he recovered his sword, drawing it close from where it had been knocked aside, pushing even nearer and moving to draw the blade. Again, another unexpected move, especially in such close quarters, fast and fierce.

Unfortunately for Mifune, he'd made a basic error and left himself open to a simple counterattack. As the younger man ducked away from Odama's strike, the older samurai had followed, two-stepping after his opponent, left hand uncurling from around his own sword, raised between them, his blade gleaming in the sunlight as it hung out to his right, the distance between them kept as close as possible. As Mifune believed, fighting this close would render longswords clumsy, and though they were both armed with katana, it was in Odama's interest to keep close.

As the two men closed, Mifune brought his katana up, one hand on the sheath, the other on the hilt, moving to draw the sword a fraction and hold it in a killing position. This, then, was his fatal mistake. Drawing a sword took time and space, and this close, that was time no man could afford to spend. As the sword came up, Odama simply blocked it, his left arm rattling against the sheath, hand reaching to secure a hold and prevent Mifune drawing it further. It wasnt necessary anyway, Odama had already made a decision. Mifune's fluid, confident attack had shown his worth. Though the man's style was unorthadox, he was courageous and skilled, the kind of man they needed in the coming days.

Despite this though, today was not a day Odama intended to lose face in front of his daughter, and especially not in front of a crowd of worthless, vagrant ronin who could barely hold their weapons. A second after the two men collided, he leant a fraction closer, mouth opening, letting forth a mighty yell. At the same time, muscles bunched, his leg raising, thrusting out in time with his kiai to catch Mifune square in the stomach with a kick strong enough to send the smaller man sprawling. With his grip on Mifune's sword, it was also likely the younger man would lose his weapon.

Across the grass from them, Suzaku watched the action unfold with obvious interest. He wasnt the only one, the girl, Kohaku Kana, had leant forward slightly, her eyes shining with admiration as she introduced herself, the men at her side, and the samurai he had just sparred with; her father, one Kohaku Odama. A broad smile broke onto his face at the last. So he had been right about the relationship between them at least.

Keeping that smile in place, he shifted to face the girl, pushing his hat back a fraction so she could see his eyes, voice low enough that only the closest would hear his words. "My name is Nagakama Suzaku, and it is my pleasure, Lady Kohaku, as it was when I faced your father a moment ago." His eyes crinkled with good humour, flickering from her face to her companions, the second samurai, the wolf that seemed oddly tame and the half barbarian busy throwing several worthless ronin around behind them all. "Your father is a skilled swordsman. I'm grateful our match was only practice, though he seems to be going slightly harder on this next man, hm."

He nodded over to the fight in progress, conscious how much more impressive it seemed than his and Odama's own duel. Theirs had lasted a fraction of a second, two moves and one, though that was enough. Had it been on a battlefield with live blades, it would have been Ai Uchi. Mutual kill. Odama would have fallen with Suzaku's blade through his ribs, but not before his own had taken Suzaku's head off. For a moment, Suzaku was unfocused from the duel, reflecting. How quickly the lives of two worthwhile men would have ended, if that were the case. As quickly as all lives end, a brief, flaring flame in the darkness, snuffed out all too soon. Still, that was karma. If it were his karma to die tomorrow, then so be it, and he would face it without fear.

Blinking, he turned back to the girl, smiling that same gentle smile, mind ticking. "With the greatest respect, and if I may be impertinent, I would ask why I am here? Why you are gathering hired swords? If that is what this is about, of course."

Ankoku finally grew tired of throwing the Ronin about, and when no others seemed all too keen on challenging him, he returned to the group. Kana and the newest addition in the rice hat were speaking, but Ankoku only heard the Ronin's last words, "-be impertinent, I would ask why I am here? Why you are gathering hired swords? If that is what this is about, of course."

Ankoku laughed in a bassey tone from behind his menpō, and then removed it from his face before interjecting into the conversation, "Revenge, of course, my good Ronin." He strapped his menpō to his sash, "We shall fight for a Lady that has been a subject of deceit." Ankoku smiled excitedly, looking forward to the dangers that were sure to come, "I am Takeshi Ankoku-san, and he," pointing at Yajuu with the blade of his naginata, "is Yajuu. We hail from the mainland." Ankoku said with the slightest remains of a foreign tongue, "You were a good match for Odama-san." Ankoku nodded absently to himself, and then crouched to rub Yajuu behind the ear. He was still laying next to Kana, Ankoku chuckled a little, without any known cause, and Yajuu cocked his head slightly while looking at the large man.

Returning to the subject he had just been on a second ago, Ankoku went on about the reason for gathering all the Ronin, "I believe that the Lady Kohaku and her father will explain everything once we have concluded our business here, to all of our new recruits at once." Ankoku rose to his feet and shrugged, "Coincidentally, that might only be you and that one there." He added, indicating the swordsman Odama was fighting at that moment. "That still only makes a total of four ronin though, doesn't it? Ah, well! More for me!" He meant, of course, more enemies, but he saw little sense in clarifying.

Genkaro sat in the shade to the side, acknowledging Kana's smile with a nod of his own as he took a drink of water. He fazed out for a moment, thinking over his past once more, and then returning to the present. The past held his memories, the good and the bad. All of them held in it's icy grip.

He, due to being so preoccupied, didn't notice the first man draw with Kohaku. Rather, he only noticed the second one sparring. It looked like a good match, the swordsman being the first to press Kohaku that he had seen. Well, he would be a third Ronin. Then he finally registered the man in the rice hat, who was standing nearby. Only when Ankoku the barbarian had returned. "And I am Izunawa Genkaro-san. I hail from -" He begins to say, introducing himself absentmindedly. He suddenly stops though, quite surprised at himself, then continues, "From the north. It is my pleasure to welcome you into our small team." He finishes, not clarifying his homeland.

He continues to sit, not attending the current conversation as much as he watches Kohaku grab the Ronin's sword and sheath, holding it as he delivers a solid kick. Slightly more brutal than Genkaro would have done, but well executed none-the-less. He does reply after Ankoku does, "I believe we cannot spend too much more time here, so perhaps it will just have to be four...." He trails off.

Mifune took note again of Odama's strength. The man had simply blocked his sheathed sword attack with his arm, even though he had applied his full body weight into the move. Not to mention that it was a swiftly reflexive counter after dodging Odama's strike to the neck. It was a foolish attempt on his part to use his sheathing blade technique in close quarters. Even foolish in believing that such a move would work demonstratively, when properly conducted, was meant to kill without hesitation. He realized he gave this man too much respect; Hesitant in form and inaccurate in execution. If his master Shiro-sama had watched this lackluster performance, he would have surely received more than a mentor's lecture. He washed away such doubtful thoughts as he saw that his sword had stopped in place, firmly locked in Odama's grip.

The sudden yell that followed was an instant telegraph of his opponent's next move but in no way did he have time to fully evade it. Mifune breathed deep as Odama's lower body began to shift in preparation for a kick. Just as his foot struck, Mifune had already rolled with the strike. He would've been on the floor had he not neutralized its full power by flowing with the force of impact. Granted it was still painful, but he gritted his teeth as he willfully circled to Odama's side. Hand still on the scabbard, Mifune used his circular movement as a craning force to free it from his blade. As this quick motion occurred, Odama was still returning his foot to the ground after releasing his swift kick. With blistering speed, Mifune finished the circular motion by dropping low, torquing into a jolting swing with the scabbard. The strike met contact right on the back of his returning leg, sending Odama staggering off. Mifune rolled away to create distance. The sting from Odama's kick still hurt and he used the scabbard as a crutch, preventing himself from keeling over. He slowly rose from his crouched position and turned to face the samurai.

"You are well seasoned in the arts of combat," Mifune began, observing his katana in Odama's grasp, "It appears I am at a disadvantage with my weapon now in your possession. Shall this continue further? or have you made your decision, great samurai?"

His hand fell firmly on his Wakizashi. Though he only had the scabbard of his katana and the short sword tucked in his obi, the tranquil expression of calmness never left his face. His sword school had taught him to utilize even the smallest of resources with extreme presence of mind and control over emotion. Despite such restriction, he couldn't help but feel delighted to have finally met a superior swordsman. Since his renouncement as a Samurai, he had faced unworthy sword wielders who cared more about robbing Mifune than test their skill. Fighting this man had ignited the Sakki he had left long dormant since his service to Uesugi Kenshin. It had been far too long since he had to resort to the true tenements of his practice, but in doing so would mean entering a fatal conflict. Such an act would be counter productive -- even though the Ronin reveled at the thought of testing the limits of his potential. No, the sheathing blade of the Iaijutsu eye will only be used, justifiably. I stand before an honorable man who must no doubt fight for a noble cause. Though I've wavered from the path of the samurai, I would gladly commit seppuku then abuse the teachings of Shiro-sama. If I join this group, perhaps I may find a more rewarding path than the one of self indulgence I currently tread. Mifune bowed in show of respect and awaited Odama's response.

Raising an eyebrow, Suzaku stayed silent as the two samurai interjected. His lips widened with unashamed amusement as the barbarian professed pride in his heritage, the other eyebrow rising to match the first as Genkaro spoke, slowly, the words coming carefully, as if in a dream.

It took another moment to process the information, looking thoughtful. Locking eyes with Ankoku, Suzkau's head lowered in a polite bow. "I thank you for your compliment, Takeshi san, and for the information, the pair of you." His eyes flicked to Genkaro for a moment before settling pointedly on Kana. "Though I have to profess, I have never known a Lady who let her retainers speak so freely." His voice lowered, took on the slightest hint of acid." Especially to a question asked directly, and in polite conversation." A seconds pause, and just as quickly, the darkness in his tone was gone. "Again, though, I thank you in all politeness for answering my question. I will wait for the end of the duel."

Behind him, Odama rose slowly, swords in both hands, fighting down a grimace of pain. Mifune's swift counter had sent him staggering, falling to one knee after two wavering steps back, and both left leg and arm ached from the impacts of the scabbard. Expression stern, he noted the younger mans hand falling to his short sword with no hesitation, only half hearing the words said, paying more attention to body language, Mifune's combat pose still emnating steely resolve. Narrowing his eyes, the stolen sword was raised to catch the sunlight, Odama's own flashing up to meet it for a moment, just as quickly arcing back down to be sheathed in a blur of silver.

"No. That will be enough."

Eyes so dark they were almost black crinkled at the edges as Odama bowed, taking three steps immediately after straightening. He turned Mifune's sword in his hand, careful not to touch the naked blade, handing it back to the younger man. For a second he simply stood, looking the other up and down, face inscrutable, before half turning away. "My name is Kohaku Odama. The girl on the rock is Kohaku Kana. Please, join the others at her side. She will explain further."

Without waiting for an answer, Odama strode towards the few remaining ronin sitting watching, calling out the familiar challenge. No one rose, even when he shouted a second time. Two or three glancing nervously at each other, only one man meeting his eye, the man's sword arm trembling as he shook his head no. Disgusted, Odama span from them, stomping back to the small group clustering around his daughter, ignoring the ongoing conversations as he said, loudly. "Four is enough, Kana chan. We should move. The Bakufu must already know about this, and the last thing we need is Shogunate police asking inconvenient questions." He leaned closer, voice lowering. "Where would you have us go."