Otogibanashi (IC)

[Kirby]

Ryuuan Kamei & Fujou Ran
Morning
Rashomon Gashi

The man raises a hand in greeting, and enters the scene, glancing at the alleyway. He pretends not to have noticed Kamei lick his lips.

“Bigshot, I’m very glad to see you. Why might you be here today?”

Bigshot. He scowls as you say the word, but doesn’t comment on it. It was something Ran liked to call him since he’d started his work; he was to be the heir to the Asakami, after all. One day, a head of the organization, if he survived until then. Not that he seemed too happy about it.

“I’m here for work, Fujou. I’ve been assigned to this job, too. And before you ask,” he says, anticipating Ran’s response, “You’re off paperwork duty. The higher ups want to keep you on this one. Say you’ll be helpful.” He doesn’t seem too convinced of that, but tales of Ran’s adventures were well-known about the organization.

Looking at him, he seems somewhat uncomfortable, out of place. He avoids eye contact with the courtesans as they lounge in their displays, and draws stares and whispers from men and women alike, a clear fish out of water. His gaze lingers on Kuikkou for a moment, and frowns. But he says nothing and moves on.

If anything, the flower town was the worst place for him to be. Perhaps that was why the higher ups wanted Ran kept on this job. Though one wonders why they’d want him on this job in the first place.

He looks into the alleyway, at the body of the victim. He stares, almost transfixed at the body, teeth grit and knuckles whitened, and snaps out of it as quickly as it had came. He turns to Ran.

“Have you found anything, so far?”

[Mormarth]

Kimura Amana
Morning
Toukaido Highways

HP: 220/230
MP: 230/240

I strike without mercy, seamlessly flowing from run to cut, I am already picking them apart, I see the sickly green and yellow of fear creep into their stances, their faces twisted in the terror of knowing that death looms ahead.

Two are close, one is farther away, to the south, and one lies to the north, perched in a tree.

Quickly, I make a judgement, the one on higher ground will presume safety, at least in comparison, and will likely stick to his bowstrings.

The southernly game will make his play once he believes I am distracted with dispatching the pair within Akaittou's reach.

So, simply enough, I shall have to make a quick, sudden opening.

(-10 MP)

Azure eyes gleam bright
Crimson blade sings beautifully
The sun rises red.

Now yer talkin' my language, girlie.

I move my attention to the closer, less terrified brigand and nod, I shall begin with him.

I dash forward, leaves scattered by my approach, bringing my red sword up in a upwards slash 'cross his midsection.

It is not meant to kill instantly, but rather move him into position.

For after, atop him, I shall begin to engage in the arts of my forefathers and take to the trees, I have no taste for a slog, and I disdain bowmen.

[Kirby]

Kurogane Kanae
Morning
An Inn at the Edo Outskirts

One blow and it was all over.

You punch the guy square in the face, and he, in his drunken stupor, fails to dodge it. He staggers for a moment, as if his body had failed to register the blow, and then slumps over, knocked out, bleeding from the nose and chin.

The rest of the gang gapes for a moment, no longer cheering and laughing but failing to comprehend what had just happened. As if coming to their senses, hop up from their seats, yelling and hollering and out for blood: yours. Their weapons sit outside, but that didn’t matter to them. They could take you, right?

And like that, you find yourself surrounded by angry drunks.

The room has several tables situated across it, with plates of food and jars of wine lying abandoned. You notice some that had been eaten clean, leaving behind the wooden skewers. Behind you is a table, the one you had just been seated at. One thug stands in front of you, just before his fallen comrade, the other two at your sides. You notice the one to your left seems more sober than the others, but no less angry. The one to your right carries a jar of wine in his hands.

Turn Order:
Kanae
Soberish Yakuza
Drunk Yakuza
Yakuza with Jar

[You]

Fujou Ran
Morning
Rashoumon Gashi

“You’re off paperwork duty"

That was just a order saying he couldn't do his paperwork. That's right, it didn't mean someone would do his paperwork for him - that's just how things worked in the organization.

Which sadly meant all that paperwork and any paperwork that accrued today was just going to be waiting for him when they were finished, whenever that way. Wait, what if this took longer than a day?

Ran used to be a rather OCD person. That changed after a time, but if there was one thing Ran hated, it was unfinished paperwork, and right now he was being ordered to un-finish his paperwork.

Too cruel.

He rubbed his forehead because of what was just said as well as the fumes, then looked behind Asakami, at the girl, "You have another stray. Your sister would be sad if you start collecting them again."

He awkwardly smiled at her. The type you give to someone when they're at the wrong place at the wrong time but you know why they are in such a position.

"Before we start, Bigshot, even if they're all like this maybe you should introduce yourself to everyone."

Ran pointed at Kamei, "This man is the owner of the establishment, after all."

[Kirby]

Ryuuan Kamei
Morning
Rashomon Gashi

"Before we start, Bigshot, even if they're all like this maybe you should introduce yourself to everyone. This man is the owner of the establishment, after all."

He blinks, and nods, as if suddenly remembering what he had forgotten. He turns to you, taking care not to make eye contact with anyone else, especially the bystanders— and even then, he eyes you with wariness, though he seems the most wary of Kuikkou, if anything— and bows.

“Asakami Shinsui, at your service. Another investigator, I suppose, into this incident. And you are…” He pauses for a moment, as if trying to remember, sifting around in his memory. “The owner of the Rakka-ya, yes?”

From the tone of his voice, he doesn’t seem too familiar with your establishment.

[Katie]

Kurogane Kanae
Morning
An Inn at the Edo Outskirts

By the gods, the tenacity of human beings was an utter pain in the ass to deal with. If there was any kami that could answer her prayers, she wished they would do it now and spare her the wasted time. If they knew how to give up, they wouldn’t get hurt.

Or at least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. The burning, ferocious desire. They needed to be in pieces, unable to stand. So beaten and battered that any sense of resistance would never come.

Clicking her tongue, she decided to make this simple. Reaching behind her, she effortlessly grabbed the table—

—and swung it in a wide arc, sober man first.

With any luck, she’d get all three.

[Ayakashi]

--- Kuze Yuzuha Rashomon Gashi Morning HP: 170 MP: 500

"What should I do...?"

Yuzuha muttered to herself as she watched the silver-haired youth walk off to meet a group of people. Any pretense of moving on without being found out was now gone, and this left Yuzuha with the two choices of either walking away from here to avoiding trouble or involving herself in the discussion that these men and women were having... speaking of the women: judging from their outfits and makeup, they were very likely courtesans, which therefor logically implied that this person they flanked was certainly the owner of the brothel. There couldn't be any more certainty inside Yuzuha's heart, as upon seeing him, she felt an imaginary hand tightening its grip around her neck, as if she was being choked. Strangled by his very presence. A presence which by itself sufficed to overwrite any intention Yuzuha had, replacing it all with an intense desire to flee... yet... yet... as she instinctively took a step back, her gaze wandered back towards the silver-haired youth. She remembered part of the reason she had gone against her better judgement and come to Rashomon Gashi.

All the 'reputation' that the owner had wasn't for nothing...

It was then that she caught the attention of the 3rd central man in the group, one who donned an ikan sugata with multitudes of protective charms and a family pattern of sorts decorating it.

'F-Fujou.. is it? I can't really remember...'

He seemed to have eventually noticed her, since it didn't take long for the man to glance in her direction, a bizarre expression that she couldn't really make out engraved on his face. It seemed like he was trying to communicate something to her at the very least -- that and he didn't seem angry, which made Yuzuha feel most relieved. Having the heavy atmosphere of the murder scene, the tenseness of the guards all around, and last but not least, the owner's overbearingly... aggressive presence, Yuzuha felt that if anyone else added in the slightest does of tension, her traumatic 'issues' might actually spring to life.

"You have another stray. Your sister would be sad if you start collecting them again."

'E-eh?! They're including me in their conversation?'

Struck with panic due to her presence being verbally acknowledged by that man of the Fujou House, Yuzuha had come to realise too late that her choice had already been made for her. Now, walking away would definitely make her seem suspicious, and besides, it'd be rather rude and unbecoming of her -- there was thus no option...

'I better excuse and explain myself...'

Taking a deep breath, she approached everyone.
While her thoughts were being thrown upside down and constantly shaken, Yuzuha's body language had been moulded from from birth to appear filled with grace and dignity even when her mind is far from being in such a state. The observant one would perhaps notice the distinctive glimmer of anxiety that dripped slightly from her trembling eyelids, but then, those who witnessed Yuzuha making her presence formally known were perhaps too busy wandering who this strange woman with such a dignified gait could be.

"Greetings... pray forgive my intrusion, but I have heard from the word spreading about that there was a most unfortunate occurrence here. It may not be of much help... but I believe that I can perform a dance that would have this dreary air forsake its presence from here... If you would please accept a dance from a woman as lowly as I am of course."

As she spoke, she bowed deeply, as smoothly and seamlessly as a blade of grass bending with the wind. Her bow was a saikeirei, the most reverent form greeting one could do as they stood.

Yuzuha of course, avoided absolute eye contact with the man known as Ryuuan Kamei, instead prefering to look at Ran and...

'Asakami Shinsui...' Yuzuha repeated internally as she heard him introduce himself.

She found that name strangely lyrical.

But then there were a lot of things she was finding pleasant about the silver-haired youth, much to her own confusion.

Looking at him instead of the scary brothel owner though, that was less a question of fascination and more the fact that doing otherwise might lead to an unwanted breakdown of her usual demeanour...

Traumas are a horrible thing indeed.

[Verg Avesta]

Ryuuan Kamei
Morning
Rashomon Gashi

“Asakami Shinsui, at your service. Another investigator, I suppose, into this incident. And you are… The owner of the Rakka-ya, yes?”

Ryuuan Kamei took a drag from his pipe and eyed the lithe man with narrowed eyes. The hunger he had felt when gazing upon him... it was not new. Yet there was something a bit different mixed along with it. Old and new... he enjoyed the sensation. Man or woman, as long as it was beautiful, he would take them as he pleased. From his birth to today, he had been familiar with desires such as this. Wrap his fingers around a slender throat and squeeze, taste the pale flesh and smile, conquer and dominate... it was all a natural way of life for him.

Hence why he was, if not relieved, grateful of Ikkou's presence. For one who had had his chain around her neck for such a long time, she had also learned how to yank that chain into other direction.

And even now...

"Alloweth myself to introduce," Ikkou said with a graceful tone much different from the mischievous one from before. Even her accent of kuruwakotoba, dialect of courtesans, became much more pronounced. "The owner of establishment named

House of Falling Blossoms

Rakka-ya

, the current authority of citizens in Rashomon Gashi, and the one to tend the flowers of men's desires... Ryuuan Kamei-sama thus standeth before thee."

House of Falling Blossoms. Kamei wanted to laugh at the name. That had been its old name, back when he had been but a whelp. Nowadays, its meaning had become different. There was a reason why, behind closed doors, many courtesans called it the House of Fallen Blossoms. Subtle, but the difference was there.

"A pleasure," Kamei spoke, his baritone in contrast with Ikkou's lilting, flowery introduction. From above, from the shade of the parasol, he stared at Shinsui, trying to gauge the man and his intents.

Maybe the stoic owner might have tried to say more, but at that moment, their conversation was joined by another female presence.

"Greetings... pray forgive my intrusion, but I have heard from the word spreading about that there was a most unfortunate occurrence here. It may not be of much help... but I believe that I can perform a dance that would have the dreary air that hanging about forsake its presence here... If you would please accept a dance from a woman as lowly as I am of course."

And yet another...

Before he knew it, Kamei had taken a step forward. Then another. And a third. His steps took him towards the young girl that had appeared out of nowhere, being like a fresh breeze in this talk of blood and death. Kamei's eyes, honed through years of immersing himself in this city around them, drank her presence in. Natural grace that could only come from right bloodlines. Honed skills of etiquette and charm. Distinctive appearance that was neither too gaudy nor too plain. Refined way of carrying oneself even in a place such as this. Voice that awaited until it was her time to speak. Clear gait of a dancer accompanied by her words that told she was one. She would not have been out of place in any of the teahouses or theaters in this district.

Kamei could already hear the chains of a cage rattle. He could already feel his breath growing hot. Another one he wanted. These two, he would take. The man and the woman. The importance of the man murdered at his backyard faded away, instead being replaced by hunger of wanting, once again to own something. Just like always before.

He wanted to--

"My, my, myyyy~! What a cute little one we have here~!"

"Mgh!"

Something tasted strange in Kamei's mouth. Wait, he knew this taste? This was... Ikkou's hand? And why was he seeing nothing but the elaborately painted rice paper of the parasol? What was going? First there had been the young man, then the woman and... why was he now slobbering on the thrice-cursed courtesan's hand!?
To the other three, the situation could not have appeared stranger. After the dancer had appeared, Ryuuan Kamei had fallen into some sort of trance, approaching the girl with hungry look in his eyes. But then, just as quickly, the courtesan named Ikkou had moved. Unceremoniously she had stuffed her small, balled fist into the huge man's mouth and yanked the parasol straight to his head so he no longer saw anything. Now she stood before Yuzuha, trying her best to wear a friendly smile, but only coming across as incredibly awkward.

"Now, would thou just look at thee!" Ikkou spoke, her dialect slipping all over the place. "Such pretty skin, such small hands, such beautiful eyes~! Now just what is thy kind of blooming flower doing in place like this? Dost thy Onee-sans not warn of approaching Rashomon Gashi, especially the

Stupid Drunk

Bakamei

behind me? Thy innocence knows no bounds~!"

It started to look like Ikkou was physically hurting herself by forcing such atrociously sweet words to come out of her mouth. Her face was that of a woman wanting nothing more than to say what was truly on her mind, yet still managing to muster up a business-smile all the same.

"But that only goeth to show thy young people are--Hgkh!"

It finally happened. After she had said the word 'young' Ikkou's eyes darted from Yuzuha to herself before she ultimately could not keep it up any longer, and bit her tongue in her haste.

As always when she brought up the subject of age, the Green Flower of Rakka-ya, Banryoku Ikkou, self-destructed magnificently.

[Kirby]

Asakami Shiori
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

As they’re busy regrouping, you dash on ahead.

Soon, they disappear from your view. Assuming they’ll continue riding on the main path, you find a spot to tie your trap. A wire across the road. Invisible to the naked eye, until it’d be too late. At their speed, it’d cut. At this height, it’d kill, like a blade across the throat.

Once set, you climb the tree, lying in wait.

Down near the main road, you hear the signs of battle.

You’re close enough, now. You see that Nanaya girl again, a faint silhouette through the trees blade unsheathed, fighting several bandits on foot. They take no notice of you, as they focus wholly on that girl, surrounding her, though she doesn’t seem too worried. Your gaze returns to the sabotaged road, the thunder of galloping horses distant, but surely and truly getting closer.

[You]

Fujou Ran
Morning
Rashoumon Gashi

Things… were getting out of hand.

Ran minded that quite a bit.

Not because things were getting out of hand. In fact, making things get out of hands was one of his former occupations.

It’s just that this type of atmosphere always followed that bigshot - that, he minded.

Only a few weeks ago, Ran would have softly coughed in his hand, trying to get everyone’s attention. That failed on that occasion and he could tell it was not going to work here either. As it always is with this Oumono.

Instead, he piqued up a half-meaningful, half-this-is-all-your-fault-so-fix it expression, at Asakami.

Well, it was his bigshot mess in the first place. Clean it up, please.

More interesting than the mundanely extraordinary known as Asakami “Oumono” Shinsui, was the stray that he picked up. An allegedly sheltered dancer? “Komono’s” bark might turn into a rabid bite.

Either way, “Nora” here was someone that every man would feel the need to protect. As evident just by looking at the Owner engaging in some sort of slapstick routine with his subordinate.

Cute things are dangerous.

Not because cute is inherently dangerous, but because cuteness indicates that one isn’t dangerous. But a person can’t be reduced to a single adjective.

Could this woman be the honeypot that the enforcer saw before he died?

It’s possibly but not likely. After all, she doesn’t look like she belongs here. If Ran was correct, then the monster should reek of Rashoumon Gashi. Not only born from this place, it was born because of this place – it was this city.

A dancer is a healer – Emotional Sympathy Spellcraft was the term for it, if Ran recalled correctly. This is a city that takes life and spits out husks. Exactly what happened to the enforcer there. To protect, it consumes, that is its concept. It can never be a sheltered noble girl who causes pandemonium.

Nora indeed.

But monster she is not.

“If this city had more dancers like her, maybe it wouldn’t need an Ibaraki Douji.” A slightly bitter, slightly sad thought.

[Reiu]

Asakami Shiori
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

Nervously, Shiori considers her situation; it wouldn't do for her to simply stand by and watch when she could be of aid. She takes out her throwing knives, and carefully applies poison on several of them.

She hadn't thought she would need to resort to such measures as a bodyguard, but in the end, perhaps this was the most fitting for someone like her. Someone who skulked in the shadows and took lives using methods others would call craven. She wondered if she should be ashamed of herself.

"Hah, good joke. You're a coward and proud of it. No point having second thoughts, now of all times."

Proud? That was probably too strong of a word. She was simply glad that even someone like her could contribute what little she could; the methods didn't matter. Though she still felt some hesitation towards killing, better this than to contribute nothing at all.

To make no difference in the world---that was her greatest fear. And it was undeniably satisfying to see that fear proven wrong. Whatever her occasional misgivings of her deeds, the distressed cries of those discovering the body of her latest target always gave her a satisfaction like no other. One of the few ways a phantom like her was able to leave her mark upon the world.

Finishing with the poison, she took aim and steadied her hand. This poison had Shinsui's touch upon it, and was thus exceptionally fast-acting and lethal. She flung the poisoned knives at the closest bandits, intending on retrieving them after the few seconds it took for the poison to take hold.

And now to wait.

[Kirby]

Kimura Amana
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

You feel heat in your eyes, and your view changes. You see the web-like patterns across the man’s surface, a weakness in the forms of his armor, and slash. A clean hit, right across the midsection. He yells in pain, and you feel your blade draw blood. It laps it up greedily, absorbing it into its blade, a faint red mist forming around it, its bloodlust nearly palpable.

Clean hit. 135 damage dealt to Bandit A.

He’s wounded now, his body weak. There was still life in him, but he’s losing blood, the wound deep. Maybe two or three more hits could take him down.

You run up the trees, as they try to retaliate. Arrows fly, though they miss their mark as the trees get in the way. The wounded man slashes wildly and misses altogether, but the other, nerves calmers, manages a slash across your leg and draws blood, though the wound isn’t deep.

Graze. Amana takes 23 damage.

Up on the treetops right now, the men below cannot reach you, lest they try to shoot you. You’re on an even level with the bandit to the north. He begins to panic, as he realizes he’s no longer safe.

HP: 197/230
MP: 220/240


Kimura Amana & Asakami Shiori

From below, Amana hears another yell of alarm. She looks down, for a moment. Two of the bandits— one from the south, and the other that had wounded, had been hit by some unknown assailant. She sees the site of their wounds, one hit in the arm, another in the abdomen. Small knives stick out from their wounds.

The wounds themselves do not seem to be serious, but nevertheless, you seem them begin to act strange, their faces pale and breathing growing harsher and shallower with every second.

Graze. 15 damage dealt to Bandit B.

Graze. 15 damage dealt to Bandit (South).

[Reiu]

Asakami Shiori
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

HP: 190/190
MP: 360/370

Seeing the poison take effect, Shiori recalls the knives. She had planned on waiting for the bandits on horse to arrive and finish whatever remained of them after the trap, but it seems that there was still time.

If so, then her best course of action was clear.

"Finally."

For a weapon that has hardly been used in combat for most of its existence, Hakuei was remarkably eager for combat. Or perhaps that was why; perhaps he found it more preferable than the untold amount of time he spent in temples and graves. To carry out the purpose for which he was forged for.

In some way, Shiori envied him, having such a clear-cut purpose and, what's more, a function aligned with that purpose. Though she certainly did not envy the torture that must have been for him to remain as a mere trophy for decades and centuries.

Either way, it was time to give him what he wanted.

Wielding Hakuei, Shiori's eyes flare as she gazes on the nearest bandit's armor. With any luck, that should make it easier to draw blood---and for Hakuei's specialty to take effect. Without further hesitation, she summons the power of her ancestors' blood and leaps down to strike the nearest bandit.

[Kirby]

Kurogane Kanae
Morning
An Inn at the Edo Outskirts

Plates and jars clatter to the ground. Some shatter. Time freezes. Not really.

It does for them, as you can feel the gaping, slack-jawed stares of yakuza and bystander alike, in that infinitesimal few moments between your grabbing the table, and swinging it down on them.

And then you grab the table, and swing it.

The sober man appears to make a sound, as if trying to speak some way or another, before the table sends him flying. The other seems to drunk to register what’s happening before the table comes down, sending him into their table. The man with jar, miraculously, does not get sent flying, missing him by the hair of his nose. He stares, mouth agape, seemingly frozen out of shock. He drops the jar, and stumbles backward. He doesn’t even try to retaliate, as if snapped out of his drunken rage and sent into a drunken shock.

The ronin snickers. The foreigner sits there, frozen mid-bite. The waitress and an elderly couple— the owners, probably— stare at their inn with a blank shock. In the back of your mind, you think of taking this opportunity to leave, before law enforcement comes.

...What had you come here for, again?

[Kirby]

Ryuuan Kamei, Fujou Ran & Kuze Yuzuha
Morning
Rashomon Gashi

Shinsui does not smile. He regards all the strangers without a word, an aura of silent suspicion hanging in the air. His expression becomes notably strained, at Ran’s talk of his sister and strays. Especially the strays. As Kamei and Kuikkou are distracted by Yuzuha’s presence, he looks like he has half a mind to take this distraction as a blessing in disguise, and leave them to investigate the scene himself.

And yet, Ran shoots him a look, the kind that said “not-this-shit-again”, or “this-is-all-your-fault-so-fix-it”. And he shoots back a look, the kind that said “fine”.

As he passes by Ran to confront the strangers, he mutters something to him under his breath. “Check the ground around the body for signs of life. Bugs, plant life, anything.” He sighs, and mutters to himself again, as he walks on over. “—should’ve come wearing a hood.”

Ran knows that doesn’t work, by the way. Shinsui thinks it works, and has convinced himself of this thoroughly, but Ran knew firsthand that was just confirmation bias.

He approaches the three, either pretending as if he hadn’t heard Kuikkou’s rambling, noticed Kamei’s strange behavior towards the girl, seen the girl’s furtive glances at him, and stops before them.

For a few silent moments, he regards the girl with a inquisitive eye. A faint hum of spiritual energy emanates from his body, felt by everyone except Kamei. He frowns. At long last, he speaks, his tone formal.

“...Are you an exorcist?”

[Mormarth]

Kimura Amana
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

Akaittou swam cleanly through the mess that passed for armor among these lowlives, a carmine mist spreading finely into the air, I can feel the spirit's gluttonous glee shuddering down the hilt, and I feel my own knees quiver, his bloodlust oozing down our connection.

The cut from the unwounded man brushes past my focus, lancing up into my mind, I grab it like a lifeline, I must keep my mind here.

Come on, you can say it's just me doin' this, but you're just as hungry for death as I am, deeper than blood.

I do not push his presence away, but neither do I respond to his goading, my eyes land on the tree-borne man.

Fire burns hungrily
The Wind howls like a mad beast
Disaster descends

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the unwounded men jerk, as if struck by unseen blows, no, I have seen them. Knives peppering the stomach and arm.

It would seem as though an ally has arrived.

It is of no consequence.

I return my attention to the bowman in the trees, he thinks himself safe above the treeline?

No longer, for another ally has been present at my side all this time.

How sweet of you.

Not you.

Bah.

Akaittou hovers near my side as my knees brace against the tree limb, then I lash my legs against nature's pillar, my blazing eyes still locked upon the tree-man.

I would make this quick, he is reeling, afraid, and once he is parted from his tree, all that awaits him is the pitiless grasp of the earth.

He would fall, one way or another.

[-10 MP]
[Butcher's Blade]

[Katie]

Kurogane Kanae
Morning
An Inn at the Edo Outskirts

She puts the table back where it was. It surprisingly survived in one piece, despite its brief-lived purpose as a bludgeoning implement. The other table that the drunk Yakuza member had crashed into—that was an entirely different story.

Kanae inspects the carnage with an almost clinical look. The rush has ended and the deep seated dread and embarrassment have settled in. She made a very big fuss over what could have easily been ignored, and as her eyes stare ever deeper at the large crack in the broken table, a worried frown spreads across her face.

“Before you do anything, at least let me pay for the table,” she says, raising a polite hand filled with coins, enough to make her more broke than the worst of beggars. It’s at times like when she realizes her voice isn’t as deep as she likes, the girlish tone making her sound more like an out-of-place maiden than a warrior, and she bites her lip out of frustration.

And yet, even so, she realizes she’s almost forgotten why she had even gone here in the first place. Right. Rumor mill. Information. If she had made herself the center of attention, she might as well make the best of it. As her family would say, strike when the iron is hot.

She almost snickers at that.

“Ahem. I’ve heard that there may be an imperial shipment bearing a sword of… Touzaki make. Despite being the former owner, I was not compensated for when it was “acquired,” so I am here to give someone a stern talking to about what it means for someone to be conned of what they are owed. If anyone knows about this, would you kindly speak? If you are keeping secrets about this, I don’t mind breaking another table.”

She gives a carefree smile, but the coldness in her eyes says an entirely different story.

[Kirby]

Kimura Amana & Asakami Shiori
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

There’s fear in the man’s eyes, as he realizes too late that the trees won’t protect him. He moves to draw his blade, as best as he can without falling, but he’s too late. Amana strikes him, a slash across the chest, sending him falling off the branch, crashing into the ground. You hear a crunch as his body lands, and he lies there, unmoving. If the slash didn’t kill him, the fall would have done the job. At this point, he's almost dead.

Clean hit. 135 damage dealt to Bandit (North). 60 damage from the fall.

The bandit to the south shifts in his spot, hearing something, and turns to the source of the noise. Shiori dashes out of the trees and slashes him, her blade slicing through the armor as if it wasn’t there.

Clean hit. 135 damage dealt to Bandit (South).

He winces, half in pain, and half in disbelief. The two of them slash at her, but she easily dodges their blows, her speed inhuman, her guardian’s blood surging through her veins like fire. Their condition doesn’t help, as they begin to look sickly and weak. The poison has started to take effect.

Poisoned. 20 damage dealt to Bandit B. 20 damage dealt to Bandit (South).

The remaining bandit takes up the rear, fearfully eyeing Amana. He raises his blade into a defensive stance, protecting their group from Amana’s direction, determined not to let her pass.

Amana
HP: 197/230
MP: 210/240


Shiori
HP: 190/190
MP: 350/370

[Mormarth]

Kimura Amana
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

I perch'd atop the branch, triumphant, casting an eye towards the ground at my unmoving prey.

Hmph, not worth the effort, I could finish him off, but it seems as though he is soon to pass from this world regardless.

I shifted my gaze across the clearing, the Asakami had arrived, making her presence known by cutting swiftly through one brigand with relative ease.

I found my eyes lingering on her, the cloying presence of that tainted blood thick in the air. Then I shook my head once, clearing my thoughts.

The strength of that foulness will carry her without my assistance for the time being, so two options remained to me.

The poisoned man, distracted by her assault, or my previous quarry, lifeblood still dripping from the long cut across his chest.

Father did always say to never leave a job unfinished.

Eyes stricken with fear
Hunting Hawk swoops from above
Sunset fills the grove

You're getting off-balance, was there even a season word in there?

A summer's grove is a well-enough component.

I braced my feet 'gainst the branch once more, eyes gleaming as I sighted upon the bandit.

[Frailty of the Corporeal]

His wound pained him, I could see his arms shaking, the defensive posture straining his wound, even now he remained.

I supposed it was quite brave, could also be fear, or stupidity, such things were not of my concern, however.

I kicked off of the stony wood, shards of bark scattering behind me.

[Kessen ~ Shatter Step]

[Reiu]

Asakami Shiori
Morning
Forests Near the Main Road

HP: 190/190
MP: 350/370

Shiori saw the disbelief in the bandit's eyes. Was it simple surprise at her emergence? Perhaps, but she also sensed something familiar. The few targets who had seen her as they were slain had the same look. Disbelief at the form of their killer.

She knew that she looked young even for her age, and bore no physical signs of the strength she could summon. In fact, her petite stature suggested much the opposite. That strength, after all, came not from ordinary training but from fine control over her ancestral blood, a natural talent of hers. For all purposes, Asakami Shiori appeared to be utterly harmless. Her long, well-kept silver hair and demure eyes gave the impression more of a sheltered daughter of a well-to-do patrician than of a demon hunter.

But hunter she was, and even if her enemy was not a demon, she was on a mission. Just as she was used to—just as she wanted. And so she would fulfill the mandate given her.

"Ah, it's been too long. How I've missed this."

Shiori lunges at the man she had injured, with the intent to finish him once and for all.