Without Heaven - Book 1: The Battle of Osaka Bay

[Buio]

Muramasa

The riflemen seemed to realize pretty quickly that with the shortened distance between them and the homicidal maniac who had just executed two of their men before anyone else realized what was going on, those of them who had not already reloaded their shots from the earlier volley would not be able to do so before he closed the gap between them and started picking them off. So of five men left on the rooftop two of them tossed their guns aside and drew their wakizashi, charging him while the others took aim. Muramasa's bored expression curled into a faint smile at the corner of his lips and everything became quiet for him, time slowed down, and Muramasa looked at the path that formed in front of him, the dance of death he would have to perform in order to give all these worthless maggots the beautiful death they so obviously craved. Suddenly the 'silence' was broken by a faint whistling sound Muramasa picked up coming from his side, and in the next instant a kunai came to bury itself in the leg of one of his chargers, making him miss his step and fall face-first to the ground. The gunners paused at this while the second attacker continued his charge, just for the owner of the kunai to make an entrance not dissimilar to Muramasa's own, if less beautiful. She stood in the way of the attacker and managed to push back his charge, after which she did some impressive acrobatics to end up behind him and kicked him back towards Muramasa. Not breaking his, slightly more interested now, gaze from the new arrival Muramasa side-stepped the half-tumbling, half-charging assassin who still tried to swing his sword at him. He nonchalantly spun the stolen wakizashi in a reverse grip and plunged it the assailant's back directly after having dodged him, piercing his heart while still looking at the new entrance.

She then asked him what was so special about his blade, instead of going for the still very armed and theoretically lethal four shogunate assassin in front of her, and Muramasa simply laughed.

"Hahahaha! You actually have no idea who I am. That's hilarious! As for my Nikuya no Kama, what makes it-" he suddenly interrupted himself by yanking the wakizashi out of his opponent's back, finally letting his corpse fall, and in the same fluid motion threw the blade at one of the riflemen who had been smart enough to start aiming again when he thought Muramasa was distracted, lodging it directly in his forehead and causing him to stagger backwards, falling off the roof and into the street below. As the remaining assassins turned their heads to see yet another man fall to the mad smith, Muramasa kicked the rifle of the man whose throat he had slit up off the roof floor and caught it mid air. He aimed it 5 degrees to the left and 3 degrees high of one of the other shogunate assassins' heads then fired, hoping to compensate for the imbalance he could feel in the weapon which would cause the shot to go astray. He ended up getting the man in the throat instead of between the eyes as he'd intended (he knew he should have aimed higher), but it did the job and he-too toppled into the abyss.

Now only the rifleman in the middle, and the charger the new arrival had wounded with her kunai were left, and both now looked too terrified of Muramasa to react. The one who had fallen to the ground was now standing on one knee, seemingly failing to find the strength to get back to his feet. The rifleman had his iron sights trained on Muramasa, but his hands were shaking so much that he couldn't get a steady shot, he couldn't find the courage to pull the trigger. He knew, somewhere in his head, that the smith was at a disadvantage with a spent musket and a sword that probably couldn't be thrown fast enough to catch him off guard. but he felt in the pit of his stomach that pulling the musket trigger would be his death, not his target's, and for a man who thought he came to this island ready to die for the shogun gladly, he now found himself wishing for anything but dying at the hands of this pale, smiling man.

Still smiling silently, seeing the fear in the assassin's eyes, he took a step forward, causing the rifleman to try and instinctively step back, only to remember at the last minute what had just happened to the two men who had been standing at either side of him just fifteen seconds ago.

Muramasa's smile grew into a dark, sadistic grin. "Go on, take the shot. What do you have to lose?"

The assassin gulped and then remembered something important. Something about how the smith had said 'take the shot' jogged his memory. With a loud, desperate yell halfway between a roar and a terrified scream the assassin spun on his heels and looked down at the reverend below, now without body guards left to block the bullet. He drew his rifle, took aim, and felt a sharp, splitting pain crack over the back of his head, the object that had connected with that spot causing him to tumble forward, lose his balance, and careen into the void to join his comrades as a mangled corpse on the street below. While he'd never know exactly what killed him by hitting the back of his head like that, it had in truth been the musket Muramasa had not yet thrown away after firing.

Now only the wounded one was left, and he had no delusions about being able to defeat a Blade of Dominion by himself, let alone the strange back-up he brought. His pride as a servant of the shogun wouldn't let him surrender to the enemy, his fear of Muramasa made him terrified of what torture he could give to a prisoner of war, so only one logical conclusion was left.

"You rotten criminal scum." he said to both the smith and the grandmaster through gritted teeth. "If your bastard reverend cared for anyone on this island he would have died today. Now this island and everyone on it will burn! I'll see you all at the gates yami!"

With this he pulled the kunai out of his leg and stabbed himself in the throat, choosing his own death in a final moment of ultimate vainglory.

"Wow, he actually called us 'criminal scum' in his dying words." spoke Muramasa expressionlessly. "You'd swear the shogunate pays them by how utterly unimaginative they can be. Anyways," he then increased his speaking volume without bothering to turning to where he was addressing "Ladder girl, you're kind of terrible at hiding. So do something useful; grab that pouch. Go give it to the reverend." Then, after a moment. "Actually, give it to the desperate wisteria, things will probably be more interesting if she has it. At least for now."

He then turned back to the combatant who'd come to his 'aid' and smiled in a slightly less disturbing than usual manner. "So, you wanted to know about my Nikuya no Kama?"

 

[Michelle the Editor]

Aimatsu, who'd been focused on watching the fight, started as the winner of the battle addressed her by name. And treated her like a wayward child or an errand girl. She finished climbing and took up the pouch, tucked it into her own robe and bowed slightly to the swordsman.

"You fought beautifully, sir, as always." She chose not to add that if he really cared about where the pouch went, he could have just picked it up himself. Aimatsu wasn't foolish enough to say more, aware that a disrespectful attitude towards this man could easily get her killed. So she just climbed back down the ladder and headed for home. If anyone had heard him she might be in trouble, but Aimatsu doubted it. Most of the people who hadn't already fled the plaza were probably either dealing with the wounded, making sure their loved ones were unhurt, or watching the battle.

As she went, Aimatsu wondered what she was going to do with this pouch. Give it to the reverend as she'd been told? Frankly, she didn't much like the reverend. Too powerful, too controlling. Yes, she followed his religion like everyone else in town, but because it was less troublesome, not because she believed him. And Wisteria? Ugh, no. Wisteria and her girls were all serious competition for a lone prostitute like Aimatsu, and Wisteria in particular tended to be frustrating to deal with. In fact, she was rather like the reverend; his followers were zealously loyal and dependent on him in the same way her girls were on her.

So what then? The swordsman knew she'd taken the pouch, if it didn't end up in the right hands he would know who was to blame. But whose hands could she trust?

 

[Duwang Chew]

??? - Shiro's Bar

• 
  
  
  
  One by one, the cloaked figure helplessly stumbled along the street - and into the path of other people in the morning crowd walking against his direction. All their curses and protests seemed to fall on deaf ears, and most of the people he ran into simply turned the other cheek and walked away when they decided some clumsy leper on the street probably wasn't worth a part of their day. What they did not realize, however, was that the figure truly had struggled to voice his apologies to them, only that his waning strength did not allow them to reach their own ears.
  
  Unfortunately, not everyone would be content with just letting go of the figure's unintentional mishaps. Catching one of his feet in a puddle on the wet dirt road, the figure again stumbled into another person, whom cursed as he was collided into unawares.
  
  "What...? To be that terrible at just walking, you'd better be blind under those robes, my old friend!" the lean, one-eyed man caught the cloaked figure by his robes, clutching at his neck area rather threateningly. All the while, people started veering out of the way of him and his cohorts; another three sword-wielding men and a single woman.
  
  "H-Hey, calm down... What made you think he even meant to do that?" one of the men put a hand on top of the first man's shoulder, hoping to calm his friend down. Meanwhile, the look on the girl's face grew worried.
  
  "...What do I care?! He thinks he's the only one who's had a bad day, this old bastard?!" rang the one-eyed man, again assuming the cloaked figure to be another of the homeless beggars dirtying the streets. His blinded eye continued to throb with a small, stinging pain as it always did in the cold morning air. His lone good eye, meanwhile, never stopped studying the cloaked figure's body, trying to make out the face underneath the hood.
  
  At that moment, the man heard a low voice sounding like it was trying to speak to him. Before he could make out the words, however, the figure's hand grabbed at his arm weakly. The cloth covering it fell to the side, revealing a gloved hand save for the fingers and thumb, the skin on which didn't appear as old as he'd first thought. The knuckle was covered in animal fur of some sort. But it was not the sight of these clothing traits that caused the man to go wide-eyed.
  
  Rather, it was the horrible reddened rash on the back of the figure's hand, which he swore seemed to twinge. The man cursed again and reeled backwards, letting go of the cloaked figure whom fell to his knees. The man's friends looked on with slight shock, then turned their attention towards the cloaked figure on the ground. Both his hands were now exposed, allowing every one of them to see the skin on them that seemed to have been lightly burned.
  
  "Holy shit! That shit's contagious, man!" one of the others - a thinly, bearded man spoke out to the group. Quickly, the girl ran to the cloaked figure's side, and lifted the cloth covering his body to inspect further. Her expression turned for the worst before she looked back at the others.
  
  "...He's not wrong. This could definitely spread, and the results won't be pretty." clarified the short-haired girl towards the rest. The one-eyed man decided he wasn't having any of her crap, though. He only finished rubbing the part of his arm where the cloaked figure had touched before he turned to the girl.
  
  "So what?! We just dump him in a river... or somewhere too far for it to catch on to us." he glared at the girl, who then shot daggers out of her own eyes back at him. "It's a brand new morning, brat. I'm not going to die a little bit inside just to make time for some random trash out in the street!" he barked at her.
  
  The people walking past stole glances at the group now and then. Noisy bunches like these five weren't a rare sight, however. To that cause, they didn't bother to pay much attention to the group's current agenda. A few moments passed without either the man or the girl seeming to budge in their stances. Then, the one person the girl considered to be the most right-minded one in the group spoke up.
  
  "...But, didn't he happen to touch you, though...?" asked the man wearing the sugegasa to his friend.
  
  The girl smiled; there was a reason he was her favorite.
  
  
  
  ---{-}---
  
  ​
  The door to the local bar was pushed open rather strongly. The one-eyed man stumbled inside, followed by the rest of his friends, and the cloaked figure they carried along with them. He grumbled, seeing as the place seemed to be quite busy this morning; not packed to the brims, but just enough. Thinking back, him and the others were on their way to the place proper for some morning eats when they came across this fungus-infected man.
  
  "I can't believe we're actually doing this... That Gin's gonna eat my ass for giving the place more bulk than it already has, you know!" the one-eyed man barked while looking back at his group, three of whom looked around for where to best lay the cloaked figure down. Perhaps somewhere in the back, away from the food and people.
  
  "...Prevention is the best cure, Nijima." the hat-wearing man with the sharp eyes advised his friend, a hand lazily rested on his sword. "While we're at it, might as well see how we can fix him up, hmm?" he was about to mention karma and whatnot, but refrained from speaking any further, as Nijima did not very much share his views on that particular matter. And, in truth, he himself was only doing it so that the girl would be happy, especially in time for the harvest festival later that day.
  
  One of the men adjusted the single sword strapped across his back so that he may move better and went to see if he can find the boss or her second. Anyone who's working at the time, really. They didn't actually know the pair especially well, but the bar has always been the most welcoming place they could think of ever since they started living on the island.
  
  "Boss...?" the top-knotted man called out, and peeked into the kitchen. The others tried reaching and asking the bartenders, in the meantime.
  
  ​
  @SecretsLiesMurder @WarriorHeart​
  ​

 

[SecretsLiesMurder]

Shiro sighed as she heard the bar tender talking to someone at the front, "Hold them shoes for me Gin." She grumbled at him and stood up. She walked out of the kitchen and into the bar area. The bar tender, Hisuko Kishamaru, came up to her and whispered something into her ear. She frowned at this then walked over to the cloaked man and the one eyed man.

"Only you two who need the medical attention, come with me." Shiro tried acting pleasant, but that wasn't her style. She started heading for the back of the bar, where a single door rested. The bells in her hair jingled as she walked along. She was also weary of all the nails or other sharp of objects on the ground, for she had no shoes on.

She lead the men to the back of the bar, and opened the door. She looked around at all the sailor men, and rough men in the bar, and shook her head, "Drunken old bastards." With that, she went through the door as a man stood up, yelling at her for what she said. Only to be smacked by the older man sitting next to him, to shut up and sit back down. Shiro stopped in the long hallway and looked at the men who she asked to follow her.

"Couldn't hear a damn thing in there. Now, what might actually be the problem?" She placed her hands on her hips as she noticed a beating the one eyed man had gotten. She furrowed her eyebrows at that sight and looked over at the cloaked man, "Are you in the same condition?" She asked, not really able to see anything under the cloak the man was wearing. She thought it odd for him to be wearing something that covered his entire body like that, in this hot weather. He must have been burning up.​

@Cambridge Hazard​

 

[Vonghese]

By the time he'd flanked the attackers with the princess, Aito had regained control of his rage. It still boiled within him, like a fire, but instead of a wildfire it was a blast furnace, tightly contained, focused, making him a stronger weapon. Iwanami Kōjien liked to preach about love and acceptance, forgiveness and forgetfulness, but that man was far better than Aito ever would be. Aito hated. It was the hate that quickened his step from his usual deliberate gait, and he found himself longing for the scent of blood and death in such a primal fashion as he'd not known since the battlefield when his brothers had fallen.

And soon enough, he found it.

A knot of four men, armed with katanas, were laying in wait for him. Doubtless they'd been deployed here for exactly this reason, to protect the flank of the musketmen. Aito recognized them as samurai all, who'd thrown in their lots with Tokugawa and been allowed to keep their swords as a result. Aito narrowed his eyes, and his mirthless laugh split the air as he blocked a cut that would have ripped him in half. Then the ambusher sought to disengage, so that his comrades could surround Aito, and the Laughing Spearman drove right after him. The naginata made an eerie singing sound as the blade whipped back and forth, as Aito launched a vicious offensive flurry that kept the samurai backpedaling frantically through the uneven ground. Aito saw that the man was unable to reverse directions quickly, and in that instant he disengaged, thrusting behind him without even looking. The second samurai, who'd sought to take him from behind, let out an agonized cry as Aito felt the slide of flesh and grate of bone on his blade. He laughed again as he stepped forward, letting the shaft of his naginata slide through his fingers to shift his grip from the middle of the weapon to the far end, gaining distance so that the weak counter-cut merely fanned him.

As his first opponent arrested his backwards momentum and set himself to attack, Aito pulled the naginata free. The alley was too narrow for wide strokes, so he flipped it over his head, the blade flashing down at full speed. The samurai blocked, and shot in to jam him, attempting to negate the naginata's reach. So refreshing to fight a man well trained. But the Laughing Samurai blocked the initial slash with the staff of his naginata, and he released his grip with his right hand, driving his rigid fingers up to the second knuckle in the bigger man's eyes.

No sensation quite like that.

It was as if he'd driven his fingers into overripe fruit. There was a bursting sensation, and the man shrieked in pure, primal agony. It was a humiliating sound, a completely unfettered wail, like a small child experiencing pain for the very first time. Aito swept the man's feet from under him easily enough, and turned away, leaving him writhing on the ground. His grip returned to the middle of the naginata. How fared his princess?

She fared most excellently.

The girl was every bit as vicious as he'd trained her. The two samurai who'd engaged her must have been overconfident, and they'd paid for their mistake. In the close confines, trying to get past Aito, they'd been forced to engage her singly, and she'd taken advantage of it. She'd thrust at the leading man's face, and when he slapped it aside she'd continued the thrust in a seemingly over-reach that darted right past the man, and rammed through his comrade's forehead. The second samurai had probably never seen it coming. Then she'd done as he had, allowing the first man to jam her naginata, blocking in close confines, then body-checked him just enough that his hip had clipped an old cart-handle. She'd disengaged, pulled her naginata free, and darted the butt of the weapon right after him in short feints to force him to keep his distance while she reset herself.

That had taken too long, in Aito's opinion, but this was the first time she'd fought two men at once to the death, and he supposed she could be forgiven.

Now she squared off with the last samurai, who looked back and forth between Aito and his apprentice with steady, controlled eyes. Aito's laugh mocked him as it echoed off the alley walls, almost merry as he stepped over the dead man. He didn't join his apprentice, giving her the space she needed to whirl her naginata effectively.

"Surrender is never an option in duels," Aito said. "I'd take you captive, but I already know who sent you. Princess, kill him."

He turned away, not even bothering to watch. There was the sound of one stroke, two, a grunt, and an agonized scream. Then his apprentice's tentative voice. "Master? What do we do with the wounded?"

The man had lost his feet in the same beautiful cut. He lay on the ground, trying to stifle his cries of agony and fear as he watched his blood mingling with the muddy earth. Aito shrugged. "Nothing. He'll bleed to death in a few minutes. His blind friend will be less fortunate, I'll wager. The locals doubtless had children on that killing-field. They'll find him, and take their own vengence."

She nodded, then stumbled to the side. Aito thought she'd been wounded, but it was just to brace herself against the cart and throw up. He turned away. Once, he'd been so innocent as to be so easily affected. This hadn't been her first kill, but she was still innocent enough that it bothered her.

Growing up hurt.

Finally she pushed herself upright and nodded. "Better now, Master."

"Come on," he said. "Let's make sure no one's stolen my armor."

His bloodlust sated, they walked back through the streets.

 

[Buio]

Sasuke

Festivals meant crowds of people, and crowds of people meant entertainers. Entertainers of course meant Sasuke, Narumi and Jingen were right there in the Tsubaki-Maru central square performing for the crowds that had gathered to celebrate the harvest festival as well as sing praise to the visiting Reverend. It was no secret that the young man wasn't fond of the Three Blades or what they had made this island into, but coin was coin and travellers like them needed it. So Sasuke had quickly sucked up being in the 'holy' man's shadow, put on his game face, and had been in the middle of doing his most focused and impressive performance yet (all for the purpose of maximizing the coinage gotten from this very promising gig of course), when of course god damned gunshots went off just as the Reverend was stopping right across the freakin plaza.

and of course the troupe happened to be near the plaza entrance opposite to the narrow street the reverend had stopped in front of when he was ambushed, which mean they were directly in the way of the terrified stampede immediately following the gunshots. Jingen immediately put his drum away and Sasuke flipped back onto his feet, without hesitation they went into action and each grabbed one of narumi's arms, pushing her to her back against the near wall and positioning themselves as human barriers between her and the rushing wave of people. The tactic worked pretty well, by huddling against the wall the trio made themselves as small and out of the way a target as possible and the two men didn't suffer any blows from the passing crowd that would leave any lasting damage. Though Sasuke did catch rather unfortunately timed elbow to the eyebrow that was letting an annoying trail of blood flow down the side of his face.

Once the both of the men had confirmed their blind charge to be without injury Sasuke turned around to asses the damage. He was secretly pissed off to see the Reverend still standing. He was INCREDIBLY pissed off to see that the assassins had been such shit shots that they hadn't just gunned down the body guards but a bunch of nearby innocent civilians too. It was with mixed feelings that he watched one of the other three blades cut down the assassins, and with complete indignant bewilderment that he saw him let two the bastards get away and another one of them live. He couldn't really make out what was happening on the rooftop that was making those snipers turn around, pay attention to something else, and now start dropping like flies, but at those guys didn't seem like they were being let off the hook so someone was doing something right. And he was about to do the same.


"Jingen, take narumi and get out of here." He spoke, breaking away from the trio and walking out towards the action.

"What?! Kuro, you can't be serious!" protested the goze with clear worry in her voice. "I'm blind not deaf! Those were gunshots, and you want to go towards them?!"

"Narumi's right," spoke the older man with stony urgency in his tone, "you can;t be thinking of taking on-"

"I'm not dumb." cut in Sasuke coldly but calmly, still looking away but stopped now. "That holy guy's bad news, and so's his samurai friend, but I can't do anything about them like I am now. I know that, and I keep my head down. These clowns though, they got innocent people hurt, and weren't even good enough to do the job they hurt so many people for. They can't get away with that, I'm gonna make sure they don't escape, that's all. Let's meet up back at that bar we saw on the way back, the one you pointed out Narumi."

"Sasuke you-!"

But he didn't listen to her protest, he took off running and tightened the straps on his bucklers. He'd seen the street that the runaways had gone down but didn't chase directly after them. Vagabond or not, Sasuke was a man who called Ritenkyo his home now. He knew how the streets and alleys of tsubaki-maru were a maze that moved according to the lay out of the land, not the designs of man. He'd gotten lost in them himself his fair share of times during the first two years he lived on the island, which meant that he knew what mistakes the escaping gunmen would be doing. Knowing how to traverse the streets like a local now, Sasuke found the riflemen exactly where he knew he would, turned around and confused in a dead-end that they could have sworn was the way they just came from. He didn't charge them, he didn't know if they had taken time to reload their muskets on the run here, but the fact that they had bothered to bring them along at all meant it was a risk he wasn't going to take. Instead he stayed hidden around the corner of the only alleyway leading into that dead-end, waiting for the riflemen to do the only logical thing in their situation.

When he heard them running back his way, he suddenly turned the corner and, before the surprised lead assassin could react, delivered a bone-crushing uppercut to his jaw with the rim of his buckler, causing the man' jaw to snap shut and bite nearly two centimetres clear off the tip of his own tongue, before caving-in and deforming to the metal rim's pressure. The man went tumbling backwards, blood flowing out of his mouth as he did so, causing his comrade to crash into him from behind. The two now tumbled forwards and Sasuke swiftly stepped backwards to let them fall. Seizing his opportunity, he jumped on the two before the still uninjured assassin on top could get up and started raining blow after blow on poor man's spine, each smash of the bucklers tied to his fore-arms further pulverizing the assassin's vertebrae and any chance he had of walking or using his arms again after this. He broke his back in 5 places total and relented. The assassin on the bottom was too busy writhing in agony, hands to his still profusely bleeding mouth and jaw, to really take notice of his friends beating.

Sasuke stood from them, kicked their guns away so the bleeding-out one didn't get any ideas, and left them to either die bleeding out, or be found by the locals. He didn't finish them off himself. He'd intended his words to narumi to be a lie when he said it, but for now he was finding himself satisfied with making sure they didn't escape punishment.

The thought that it had been nothing even resembling a fair fight never even crossed Sasuke's mind, much like the riflemen cared nothing for their own victims.

On his way back through the streets he heard another commotion going on nearby, it was in the direction of the house whose roof the snipers had nested on, more assassins probably, and someone was fighting them. Sasuke decided to go check it out, making his way towards the noise, but it didn't last incredibly long and by the time he finally turned his final corner, the scene he was greeted to was that of a man and a woman wielding naginata standing in front of him, interrupted in the process of walking away from a massacre some fifteen to twenty feet behind them. Even from the distance Sasuke could tell the colours of the shogunate assassins on the bunch of bodies they had left behind. Because of this, while the duo looked rightfully unnerved at Sasuke's sudden appearance (the man himself looking particularly ready to lash out if the young man made a wrong move), Sasuke himself suddenly smiled and adopted a lose pose. "Hey there, so I'm guessing those guys behind you are your handiwork?" he said, nodding towards the corps- well, one seemed to be groaning and alive, but mostly corpses behind them, "good to see there are still people out here willing to do what's right when innocents are hurt." He extended a hand towards the leading male, but kept himself somewhat tense and ready to jump backwards if these two turned out to be just another pair of mindless killers and decided to attack him too. "I'm Sasuke, son of Yasuke, and you are?"

 

[Hologram Summer]

The reverend remained completely calm despite the fact that these shogunate dogs could easily kill him with a pull of a trigger. He was well aware that these men lurked among the citizens of Ritenkyo and needed to be weeded out if peace was to be attained. He had full confidence that Kirose and his men would eventually find and eliminate these mongrels but he was worried that their presence would destabilize the community if not taken cared of immediately. And so, he proposed a plan - to use himself as bait to lure out these shogunate loyalists. I was a shame that he had to lose such loyal followers in the process but their sacrifice was for the greater good.

He watched with a pleased expression as his fellow blades mowed through his would-be assassins. Watching death befall those who defy him is always such a treat. "Now now, gentlemen, try to control yourselves. We do have some questions that need answers so don't get carried away" reminded Haruhito but Kirose and especially Muramasa seem to be lost in the moment. A sigh escaped the holy man's lips as he went over to check the fallen shogunate soldiers, all of them devoid of life.

Haruhito's excitement grew when he noticed several other characters join the fray. One of them was the self-appointed leader of Kurishina, Aito. He and the reverend were not in good terms especially when he found out that he was harboring Shinto priests in his little fishing town. Shinto was the faith of the old world - a faith that brought nothing but war and misery. Those who embrace such ideologies deserve a faith worse than death for polluting the minds of his people. Someday Haruhito planned to settle the score with this man but for now his actions are in favor of the reverend's welfare. A young woman took to the roof and fought alongside the Demon Swordsmith who seemed to be having a good time. A couple of geishas from a nearby oiran also participated in the escalating events though not as actively as the others. "I was looking forward to a day of song and dance but this is far more festive than any performance..." chuckled the reverend to himself.

Once the last assassin disposed of, the reverend placed his hands together and recited a prayer for the dead. "It is unfortunate that our day of celebration was stained in blood but I would like to commend the warriors who valiantly fought against these oppressors. May Mother bless your days..." spoke the reverend. Friends and family of those unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire went to mourn over the corpses of their loved ones. It was truly a heartbreaking scene that would darken anyone's day. Haruhito however relished the palpable despair in the air albeit discreetly of course. He made sure to stop by each of the fallen's remains and bless them for their journey to the afterlife before walking towards Kirose.

"I'll meet you and Muramasa at the shrine..." whispered the reverend as he walked past the swordsman.

The reverend was soon joined by several villagers and a couple of his cultists on his way to the Mother shrine.

 

[Duwang Chew]

??? - Shiro's bar

• 
  Without offering the slightest gesture in return to this newcomer, the cloaked figure then felt a nagging hand pat him on the back, and he understood it as the one man who'd accosted him earlier telling him to move. He walked forward, somewhat matching the woman's steps with his uneven ones, moving and stopping whenever she did. All the while, he could remotely hear the shuffling of the one-eyed man's steps behind the both of them. His pair of eyes peering past the shade under the hood, the figure looked around the halls warily and in silence, throat cracking under the heat of fever. He'd gathered they hadn't any ill will against him, not yet.
  
  But to think he'd be offered help without question on an island supposedly full of outlaws and criminals put his already addled thoughts to the test. Perhaps they were the unfortunate settlers of the land; rightful heirs of the land before it was cast under stone by heaven and gated to imprison the followers of the demon blade?
  
  Yes, that had to be it. The figure decided he needed to recuperate quickly, before they would need his assistance against the truly evil ones. And thus he followed the woman without word, picking up a single remark from the woman as they passed an occupied room, and then a more distant shout, before the sound of a forceful application of the hand he could barely register. The fever and the burning skin may have crippled his joints to a degree, but he nonetheless poured every bit of awareness left into the senses that kept oneself alive in unfamiliar territory.
  
  He stopped in his tracks and looked up when the rhythm of the bells nestled in the woman's hair came to an end. The group of three were in the middle of a longer hallway, and the woman had turned around and towards him, taking up a questioning stance. Before he could put in a word edgewise, the man behind him offered a few of his own when she asked about their conditions.
  
  "...Gotten from a touch of poison ivy in the bushes out south-west, boss. We're, uh, pretty sure of it. Seen it before, but it isn't as bad this time around." said the one-eyed man, a hand hanging loose at one side whilst the other massaged a previously bruised neck. Then he saw the woman's brows furrow. "He's... uh, he's gonna need something to help with the, uh, fever too." the man continued, but realized he was getting worse at it. He wasn't sure if it was from the woman's charms; being this good-looking despite seemingly not having a single hint of make-up on her (which definitely put her far above the women he frequented up in Flower Street), or her brawn; seeing as the small giant back in the kitchen happened to be her Number 2, and Homura and Yugo wouldn't stop talking about her wiping the floor with various people. He threw another mousy look over in the woman's direction. "I'll... I'll just need some ointment." he held up a hand, and pointed to a spot on his wrist with the other.
  
  Seeing as the man was done, the cloaked figure held up a hand of his own. With it, he pulled on the cloak covering his face.
  
  
  
  ---{-}---
  
  
  

  

  
  ​
  "...You've gotten so worried over it that I couldn't help myself." said the man, smiling a small smile to the other two bent over the shallow well outside the bar. Standing upright, he felt the morning wind gently graze his hair.
  
  "Well, next time we come across an infected person like that, you and Nijima get the honors of touching him all over, eh?" the man with the topknot replied, his full cheeks smiling over a shoulder as he splashed some more water onto his arms. To this, the first man gave a small laugh.
  
  "Why didn't the both of you go with him, though?" the first man asked, eyes glancing towards the crowding streets from time to time. "Izuna as well, for that matter..." then he thought back to the girl, whom was waiting inside the bar and watching after their belongings, his hat and sword included. She'd probably be talking to the bartender, by now.
  
  "...To be honest?" the man with the topknot thought for a while before answering. "The boss is a pretty scary lady." he said, sending all three men into fits of laughter this time. "...Though, the guy needs to get himself checked. It isn't everyday you see a man get pounced on by another four people like he did and still walk like nothing happened after that." the man admitted afterwards, solemn. He handed the wooden dipper back to the thinly, bearded man, who poured more water on his arms as well.
  
  "...Shit of a way to start yer morning, if ya ask me." remarked the bearded man, putting the dipper back in its place and standing up again as he was done. He walked up to the first man, who had leaned against the building and folded his arms across his chest. Gripping the latter on the shoulder with one hand, he invited the three of them to go back into the bar with gusto for their long-awaited food and drinks.
  
  However, the top-knotted man suddenly notices a commotion fairly in the distance. People seemed to be exchanging harried words with one another, and self-appointed messengers sprinted down the streets to carry a surprising news of some sort. It wasn't obvious right away, but something seemed to have happened somewhere on the island. Their wishes was that it was further than it was close, whatever it would turn out to be, as one of those word-bearers moved down the street and towards the bar.
  
  ​
  ---{-}---
  
  
  

  

  
  ​
  The golden-haired young man let the cloak previously covering him clung to an arm. Reeling back, he stifled a cough into a rash-covered hand. Quietly, the one-eyed man was left feeling like swallowing his own words when he sees the reddened, itching skin covering more than half of the youth's face. The abnormal condition reached down and past his neck and shoulders, but the rest was hidden beneath his attire. Few spots were left on his exposed shoulders that did not carry the skin's sign of illness. Coughing again, the young man summoned up the pieces of his voice that remained.
  
  "H... He is... c-correct..." Makoto would hack in between the few of his words, his face ablaze with the fever. "Plea... Please, forgive me..."
  
  ​

 

[DANAsaur]

So much death, pain and agony in just a single day.

Fujiko watched everything unfold right in front of her very eyes. The deafening sound of clashing and clanging swords, the harsh yet graceful movement of men with their weapons and the blood gushing with every blow is just sickening yet fascinating to her.

It is true that she hates violence and chaos yet she finds the scene oddly beautiful; as if the beauty of death is bestowed upon the battle. Each blow landed by them to each other looks like a dance of who will live and who will die; their music is the pain and cries of the fallen. She had never seen something so beautiful, yet so chaotic and violent.

"How can be something so deadly can be so beautiful?" she whispered to herself, watching the fight subside until the place is painted with red. Dead bodies scattered the streets, the smell of metallic copper filling her senses as she watched the reverend walk away from the scene.

Sighing, she jumped down from her roof and landed in front of the reverend, a fan hiding half of her face as she spoke "Reverend, may I speak to you for a moment?" Fujiko asked her topaz eyes filled with mixed emotions. She wanted to talk to him about the chaos he brought to her street, the bloodshed he caused and the fact that he'll attract a lot of criminals that could make her business boom or fail.


(Sorry for the short post. Got a lot of accounting to do. I promise I'll do my best on my next IC. Again, so sorry >_<)

 

[WarriorHeart]

Gin

Gin continued to prepare his eggs. The bar was filling up quickly and he had a few more orders to complete before the cook actually arrived. "Damned festival!" He grumbled. It was amazing how many people came to a bar to eat. Gin's face was generally dour and dark. Smiling just didn't sit right on him. In fact, he's often been told that he's terrifying when he smiles. This is a fact he makes use of from time to time.

The familiar sound of random cat calls mixed with the jingling of bells had announced the arrival of Tamagi Shiro. She is the owner of the bar and also the boss of the gang which seems to 'keep the peace' in this neck of the woods. Gin teases her and calls her chisai oyadama [little boss]. It wasn't but a moment and she came bounding into the kitchen and plopped down into her chair. Her feet were dirty and bare; as usual. She asked him if her backup pair had been used yesterday. Technically, it was just a few hours ago but the answer was always yes. He set his bowl down after dumping the contents into a large cast iron skillet. The sizzle and smell permeated the air quite quickly but it gave Gin the time to get what she needed.

He moved around behind her to a cabinet high above her reach. He stuck his hand up and opened the door. He reached in and grabbed a pair of uwabaki for her. What she could not see was that there was probably two dozen pairs of various styles and colors tucked away in the dusty cupboard. Gin turned to offer her the slippers only to see the kimono, hair and bells disappearing out the door. Gin frowned and set the things on her chair and went to check on his eggs. He was immediately interrupted by two cooks; an older couple who promptly shooed him from the kitchen.

Gin watched for a moment and then leaned out into the hallway. He shadows Shiro as she lead a cloaked figure and Ichi [one for one eye] into a small room. Years as a slave had taught the giant how to be silent at times. He crept behind and lingered outside to listen to what was going on. If need be, he could jump in and crack some skulls.

 

[Vonghese]

The man was black.

Aito blinked and stared at the man who'd just spoken to him. It wasn't face paint, Aito could see a bead of sweat running down the strange man's face. His face too was strange, the features unlike anything he'd ever seen before. What in the world is that?

The man--Sasuke?--was carrying the most bizarre weapons Aito had ever seen. They appeared to be two shields, but small, and bladed? That would be a strange fight, Aito had never considered such a weapon before. That they were inferior was without question, Aito despised weapons that traded skill and craftsmanship for exotic appeal, flash, and confusion. A flexible mind would soon overcome the surprise, and Aito considered his mind flexible for a samurai.

He frowned at the extended hand, then dipped a curt bow to the man, not taking his eyes away. "Morumoto Aito, the Laughing Spearman," he replied. "Samurai, Ronin, and master of the Kurishina dojo."

I don't trust him. Too much, too soon. Could be a spy, a ninja for Tokugawa.

The naginata in his hand felt weightless as the after-rush of the fight still pumped through his veins. I could kill him so easily. But he didn't. Aito wasn't going to strike down a man who'd offered him no violence as of yet. Instead, he continued on his way. The armor on his horse's back cost a small fortune, and he didn't want to lose it. It needed to be found, and soon.

 

[Buio]

"Ah, this familiar tension" thought the young man

Sasuke wasn't unused to people being surprised by his skin colour when they firs saw him, if anything he'd made it into one of his biggest moneymakers ever since coming to the island, and his exotic appeal had gotten him in the sheets of more than one curious young miss. But the way this fellow was eyeing him and moving around him, there was something far deeper at play, something simpler than mistrust or weariness of the unknown.

After letting Aito and his woman go forward a few paces ahead Sasuke turned and followed behind at an equal pace, keeping enough of a distance to not seem as a direct threat (especially considering the obvious range differences between their respective weapons). He wasn't following out of pure grim curiosity, the man was following the quickest route back down to the plaza and going through there was the quickest way for Sasuke to get back to the inn and find Narumi and Jingen. However, while he was wise enough to keep his distance, his impetuous spirit didn't allow him to stay silent.

"'The laughing spearman', I have actally hear of you Morumoto-dono." commented the youth. Kurishina was pretty out of the way so his entertainer's travels never really took him in those parts (plus the areas surrounding were rife with both bandits and the three blades goons ostensibly trying to fish them out). But you didn't get strong on this island (or come already strong, either way) without peoepl taking about you, and vagabonds heard a lot of things from a lot of mouths. "For someone who others talk about like he's a folk hero, you sure do emanate a lot of bloodlust. Do all samurai enjoy their work so much?" said the young man humorlessly but without any overt accusation in his tone.

Sasuke felt like this whenever he met anyone that was too like him, someone who was holding back a violence inside whether through discipline or morality or pretense. They weren't exactly rare on the island, but they all grated him the wrong way. Not being sharp enough to realize the true nature of this sentiment though, how he hated in others what he failed to see in himself, he'd foolishly begun to rely on it as some sort of 'sixth sense' to pick out people he thought were likely to be abusers of the weak. While the spearman didn't do or say anything yet that gave Sasuke cause to think of him as a villain, somewhere deep inside the youth had already convinced himself that the spearman would be an enemy to defeat one day. For now though he just wanted to see how thinly veiled his violence was and if he'd react to his words.

 

[Vonghese]

Aito didn't like being followed back to the square, but there wasn't really much he could do about it. And there were a lot of things already he didn't like, and lived with anyway. He didn't look back, the strange black man's footsteps easy to hear in the narrow streets. His apprentice walked beside him, admirably resisting the urge to turn and gawk. At the question, however, she did turn questioning eyes briefly to her master, curious as to his answer.

The warrior didn't answer. Not right away, at least. He debated whether or not to even bother, but the princess was listening, and she should know, and now was as good a time as any to explain that to her. He sighed. There was no short answer to the question.

"I am very good at what I do," he explained at last. "Some say I was the greatest naginata wielder to take the field against Tokugawa."

He spit at the name.

"Now that the flower of samurai lies dead upon that battlefield, most agree that I am the best left in Japan," he continued. "I have no desire to prove myself against old men who, like me, desire only to be left alone, and so the issue will remain unresolved. I care not for fame. Fortune and accolades are fleeting mistresses at best. The reason why I continue to strive to better myself? The reason why I take such pleasure in the battle? It is not so hard to understand, in the end. When you are good at something, it brings you pleasure to do it. Excellence is its own reward already, and for me that is enough. The joy lies not in the kill, but in the victory. Were my skills to lie in other fields, I would take just as much delight in the painting of a picture, or the forging of a sword, or the building of a house."

The square opened up before them. Looking around, he spotted the pack horse in one corner, along with several other animals. Someone had been thoughtfully returning strayed animals to one location for easy finding. Aito was pleased. "Secure the horse," he ordered his apprentice. "I will make inquiries, and see if there is a good place for us to stay--if the festival is still on."

 

[Buio]

"Hmm, so his cloak is discipline, pretty expected for a former samurai."

Sasuke listened to the man's explanation and didn't say anything for a while afterwards. His speech didn't particularly sound of lies or pretense, but while Sasuke listened intently, he did do weighing every word and scrutinizing the speech for flaws. Any tell to justify his pre-determined feeling that this man was not to be trusted. When they got to the plaza he heard him order his woman to fetch their ride and speak about lodgings. He knew that he would need to return to the inn soon if he wanted to at least minimize the punishment he got from narumi for running off, but he decided to stop and voice his conclusions to the samurai before splitting ways with him.

"If my opinion has any weight to you Morumoto-dono, your words contradict themselves. If combat is your labour of love, and killing is just a product of that rather than the actual point, then I don't see how putting down some shogunate dogs who weren't even strong enough to come to ritenkyo as citizens goes any way to bettering yourself or your craft. That shouldn't be the kind of match a craftsman takes pleasure in, and you settling in kurishina makes it seem like you are relying on your name to draw impudent young guys like me to your dojo in some bid to make a name for themselves. Like you said though, anyone who's on your level is usually happy staying the big fish in their own pond, so the odds of you actually dying at the hands of a challenger are slim. Those don't seem like the fights of a man still trying to improve his craft to me." his assessment was delivered in the same stoic, non-accusatory tone he;d spoken earlier, as if stating his words as a simple observation would somehow make them less insulting. He then bowed his head before the older man and continued. "but I'm just a dancer, what I know about battle can't be compared to a samurai's experience."

He then raised his head again and looked straight at Aito. "Either way, the fact remains that you did cut down those Tokugawa dogs, for that you have my sincere thanks. I overheard you mention inquiries about lodging. There's a rather good inn on the third street down from Mikahara's shop. It doesn't seem like much from the outside but the beds are soft, the rooms are warm, the food is good and best of all the price is low. Plus the plain outside doesn't attract more than the regular customers so there's alleyways a room to have. Me and my troupe are staying there ourselves. If you have nothing better in mind I hope to see you there later Morumoto-dono." He offered another bow, this one deeper than the last but held for a shorter time, before he turned around and headed his own way from the man, unconsciously showing his impetuousness by not even waiting to see if the spearman had anything to say about what he'd just said.

He needed to hurry, Narumi would already be pissed, and he still needed to go wash the blood off his bucklers before heading straight back.

 

[Vonghese]

"If my word has any weight to you..."

But it didn't. And fortunately for the young man, Aito began ignoring him at this point. He picked his way cautiously through the wreckage of the square, alert for any last vestiges of violence. Who knew what might happen next? The locals might mistake him for one of the aggressors. As the black man yammered on, Aito found the sheath for his naginata and rebound it to the weapon. That was better. Now... what else to do? Wait. Did he just insult me? He cut his eyes at his annoying companion, but now the topic was one of truth, the speaker's ignorance of the ways of battle in comparison to Aito's. Had he insulted me before my apprentice, his head would roll. Aito had known many samurai who would have listened closely to the diatribe, searching for the slightest hint of disrespect. He'd known a few who would have taken the stranger's head simply for talking too much to one of superior rank.

Sasuke bowed, and Aito briefly thought the talking was over, but his hopes were dashed. Raising his head, the man blathered on, seemingly oblivious to how close he'd come to death. Aito sighed. Better just to let the young man get it out of his system. Maybe he'd grow bored and leave, eventually... sooner being better. If his student the princess returned before Sasuke finished talking, Aito would have to start listening again in case the fool insulted him again. Aito considered the constant seeking of fights to be beneath his dignity, but he would brook no slights before his student. Then the man bowed again, and rushed away. Is he really so afraid that after delivering his impudence he flees? Perhaps he is an agent of another after all.

Ah, well. Aito dismissed the encounter from his mind and nodded to the princess as she joined him, leading the horse. Of her own mount, there was no sign, and his mount grew cold a score of paces away from them. Looks like it will be walking from now on. Aito could afford to purchase another steed, he'd managed to bring quite a bit of coin with him to the island when he'd been exiled, but the thought irked him. I would rather exact my mount from my enemies.

They headed down the street, and began studying the prospects as they walked past. Aito didn't want to take lodging at the first available prospect, he wanted to find a good place. Preferably a place with a bar and a brothel to either side... Aito could sleep through a monsoon, so he didn't care about noise from revelers.

 

[SecretsLiesMurder]

Shiro listened to the one-eyed man speak, before she shook her head. She knew about the ivy too well, and knew her boys oftened got caught in it. She was no nurse or health specialist, but she knew her way around a few medicines. She nodded while listening to the man as she thought of something, looking over his body. She placed her hands on her hips and nodded without a smile.

"Nothing any good old ointment shouldn't fix. Though, if it burns, that's not my problem, It'll teach you not to play with ivy." She held her hands up with a closed eyed shrug, then placed them back on her hips once again. She oftened did that. It was more her thing. She also realized how much more work she would have to go through when she had to make more of the ivy medication, and in her mind, she was grumbling with frustration.

The hacking caught her attention as she looked over at the cloaked male. Once he took his cloak off, she was instantly taken on guard, and she backed away a little, as if just being a feet from him, would infect her. She was sweat dropping internally now as she studied his appearance.

"Well...it seems...you've been rolling in the stuff as if it were mud." She laughed nervously at her little joke. His raspy voice brought a tingle down her spin, as she was screaming at herself for letting this man into her Bar. She was thinking whether or not to just send him out and order that he never come back, but he really caught her attention. His apology made her wave her hand in front of her face.

"No-no! Don't apologize! Um...I'll have you fixed up in no time!" She rubbed the back of her neck, "Hopefully." Was what she muttered under her breath next.

She turned on her heels and clapped her hands together, "To the medical room. I don't want you boys touching anything, so please put your hands into your pockets, until I request you take them out." She ordered to them simply, as she reached a door to the left of them. She opened it and allowed the males in first, so she could shut the door behind them, without them touching the door knob and having the whole place infected with the ivy. That would lead to bad business, and just as much as she hates to work, she also enjoys ringing in the cash.​