Private Tales A Blade Through the Rain

[Wakasugi Touma]

"An old silent pond...
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again."
- Matsuo Bashō
Somewhere among the vast continent a story begins; on a rather rainy day. The rain was not an absolute downpour, but it was indeed more then a drizzle. One may have even said that an air of tranquility had overtaken this land...but not all parts of this land felt so peaceful.

It was along a certain beaten path that followed along a lake, and by this path were...littered a number of roughly dressed men, all sprawled out across the road, they weapons lay not to far from their body. Many, if not all of them, were breathing. Most laid on the ground, groaning, clutching an artery of their body. Some of them appear to have been launched into the lake, as evident by the fact that they were now lying on the edge of the water, utterly soaked. Then there was this one fellow, who was pinned to a nearby tree by a knife and was desperately trying to unpin himself.

Miraculously enough, aside from a couple of bruises, no one was bleeding.

Among all of this, stood two human men along this path. On one end of the path, was a man you may describe to be a brigand. The fellow was crudely dressed, a red scarf around his neck and a scruffy beard covering his face. In his hand, he gripped on to a bastard sword bigger then any of the weapons on the ground. The brigand like character seemed to have a determined expression, although one wondered if he was wavering a bit in the face of his opponent...

Said opponent was clearly not around from these parts, least given by the way he was dressed. You couldn't really tell what this particular fellow was feeling, as his face was covered by his red hair. This may have only served to further put the brigand into unease; he couldn't read his opponent. It was that, and they way the opponent held his blade. All in all there were two blades: One was sheathed and rest on the opponent's hip, and the other was also sheathed, but held in a horizontal manner behind the opponent. It was an odd stance to most, but the opponent held steady in his conviction, compared to the brigand at least.

So there the two men stood, facing each other, gripping onto their weapons in their respective stance. It was hard to tell who would make the first move...as a mere flinch may easily send the two into a frenzy against one another...but how long will they stand?

The only sound that could be heard were the pitter patters of the raindrops, felling into the trees and into the water.​

 

[Himitsu]

There had been a flurry of sound and activity only a few minutes before, but now the tension stretched out between the gentle staccato of pattering raindrops, a quiet background where previously there had been … well, a considerable amount of ruckus.

Into that pregnant tension came a sharp snap and hiss -- startlingly loud, and coming from off to the side from both of them.

There, leaning up against tree, having just cracked open a brown bottle, was a white-haired woman with golden-brown eyes. She wore light leather armor, her white-hair pulled back in several scattered braids, and at her back she carried a pair of gleaming white tonfa. The bottle’s sudden hiss made her sort of look back at the two of them, then hold one hand up. The black tattoos on her face did little to soften the rather wolfish tilt to her head or the sharp predatory glint to her gaze as she said,“oh, no, sorry, do what you’re gonna do. I’m just gonna… enjoy someone else doing my job.”

She looked to the one with the two swords, giving him a mocking salute with the bottle before tilting it back and taking a drink. Which… seemed to actually involve chugging the whole thing. Finishing it off, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then tossed the bottle over one shoulder.

She’d been hired to clear out this particular next of brigands and thieves… imagine her delight when she showed up to find most of the work already done for her. She loved easy money. Easy money meant drinking faster, which meant passing out faster, which meant this hellhole of a day was just about over. Nothing bad about that, as long as this random wandering fighter-type actually finished the job and didn’t die. Otherwise, she’d have to do something, which sounded an awful lot like work. So she stifled a burp with her fist, then gave them both an approving thumbs up. “Keep doin’...” she gestured between the two of them. “... this, whatever… this all is.”

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

Two faces turned to the feminine voice, as it would seem the women had interrupted some sort of deeper focus between the two. Yet despite acknowledging of her presence, neither of the two men said anything...or at least, they didn't have anything to say at the moment...perhaps they had somthing greater on their minds.

After a moment of staring, the two would slowly return their gaze back to each other; one's expression was of confusion and anxiety, the other was still unreadable. However, what was much readable was his posture; as red hair began to lower his stance....

Within the blink of an eye, the red hair launched forward into a sprint towards the brigand, his sheathed sword was still being held behind him as he charged. This seemed to excite the brigand, as red hair gripped onto his own sword tighter and began screaming at the top of his lungs in a mixture of anguish and panic, before flinging himself forward to meet his opponent.

The clash at this point was inevitable, as both men flew at each other.

Just a few meters before the two met, the brigand would raise his bastard sword into the air and cleaved downwards, yelling at the top of his lungs as he did. The brigand's weapon gave him a slight edge in the range against the opponent, but at the cost of speed. As a result, the red haired opponent was able to quickly side step the forward swing as he continued forward. However, the brigand was a bit more skilled then he seem, and was able to bring the momentum of his downward swing to a halt. Within the next instance, the brigand had turned the blade horizontally and pressed the remainder of his strength into the swing the blade at the red haired opponent.

It might have cleaved a lesser skilled fighter in half, but of course this wasn't just any fighter.

The red haired opponent in response would used his forward momentum to launch himself into the air, flipping over the horizontal slice, as his face soared only inches away from the brigand's blade.. The brigand had a front row seat to all of this, his facial expression was that of horror as his blade carried past his opponent, helpless as he watched the red hair land...and then reach for his sheathed sword...

The next thing anyone knew, there was a bright flash that blinded anyone whom had been observing the fight, 'causing all but the most self-disciplined of beings to close their eyes.

As the effect of the flash faded, the brigand opened his eyes...still high from the adrenaline...his eyes darting back and forth...and realized his opponent was no longer in front of him. It would seem that in those few moments of the red hair reaching for his blade, the brigand had instinctively brought his bastard sword up in an attempt to block. The brigand looked down quickly, but he appeared to unharmed.

Did...did he actually block it?...But again, his opponent was not in front of him...and then, the brigand had a thought...as he slowly turned his head back...only to see his red haired opponent, with his back turned to him, and his blade drawn.

A sudden ripping sound penetrated the air, causing the brigand to look back down towards the sound. To his further horror, where there was once no cut in his clothing, now existed a ripe that had torn into his scarf. The brigand didn't have much time to process this, however, as the top blade of his bastard sword suddenly broke off and plummeted to the ground, cut clean in half.

Holding the half blade in front of him, the brigand starred disbelieving at what had transpired, slowly dropping to his knees as he did. But somthing else suddenly took hold of his focus, as he quickly dropped the rest of his sword and reached out to his neck. Was he bleeding? Was this the end?...

No...it was not...as the brigand felt around his neck, a wave of relief washed over him upon the realization that his neck was still intact. This relief would disappear almost immediately when he felt a looming presence over him, causing him to shake upon the thought. The brigand would slowly turn his head again, as a pair of trousers came into view. This only had one conclusion.

The brigand fell backwards at red hair's sudden advanced, frozen in fear as the blade was brought against his neck.

"Leave..." The red hair said in a low and intimidating voice, suddenly halting, his blade still hanging over at the brigands neck. "...and never take up arms again...else the next time we meet, I shall not be as merciful."

The brigand stared at the red head for a moment, before quickly scrambling backwards and onto his feet, wasting no time in bolting towards the opposite direction. The men who had previously been sprawled across the ground began to get up, some lending a shoulder to some of the more badly injured ones, as the band quickly began to hobble after their leader, passing the red hair as they fled.

It was only when the last brigands had disappeared down the road did red hair relax. With his sword still held out, red hair let out a sigh, before bringing the sheath in his other hand to his hip, and proceed to unsheathe his sword in a rather disciplined manner...then uttered a few...rather foreign words.

Only when the sword was tucked away on his hips, did red hair turn to face this new...person?

"I assume you were not with that bunch?" The answer was clear in the red hair's mind, as he had heard what she had said with before. But maybe he spoke those words to start an idle conversation...or maybe he was looking for somthing more....
​

 

[Himitsu]

The white-haired woman linked her hands behind her head as the two men looked back at each other, deciding that whatever was going on between them was more important than her interruption. That worked for her. Mitsy was not in the habit of making more work for herself when there was the possibility of getting away with less… and still getting paid, as a bonus.

To any observer, it almost looked like she was taking a nap or otherwise paying little attention to what was going on -- she leaned back against the tree with her hands behind her head, her eyes lidded like she was half-asleep or maybe close to passing out. She had just downed that bottle of booze with reckless abandon, after all. Wouldn’t be too far off to assume that she was now taking a booze-fueled nap while they took care of business, or that she’d straight up passed out… she looked, after all, like a smaller-sized human. It suited her well enough.

The next few seconds passed in a flurry of activity, ending with the brigand stumbling to his feet and tearing off down the path. Well… most of the way down the path. He got about five feet before the white-haired woman was there, grabbing him by the scruff and lifting him near off of his feet. It was sort of funny looking, since she was a short woman, so she was holding him up over her head, practically. She eyed him for a moment, golden eyes sweeping up and down him, before reaching out and yanking off the man’s scarf. One it was in hand, she dropped him back to his feet, giving him a shove as she released him.

For a moment, she watched as they all scrambled to their feet and took off -- albeit most of them hobbling or limping. Not bad, for a lone swordsman.

He addressed her, and she looked over at him with a “hm?” and an arched eyebrow.

Not with that bunch. She barked out a short laugh, glancing down at the ripped material in her hand. It had some distinctive embroidery on it, and some splatters of blood. It’d do well enough for proof. Wrapping it around her wrist and tucking the ends in, she glanced over him, a grin playing across her lips.

“Why, are you offering to cut off all my clothes if I am, mister swordsman?” Planting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head as she regarded him, that golden gaze playful, amused… edged. Sharp and bright like the blade of his sword. “What’s leaving them all alive about? You one of those travelling bleeding hearts, giving them a chance to reform, fix all their ways, be of benefit to those around them or some such nonsense? You know they’re just gonna regroup in the next town over and do this shit to more unsuspecting sods, right?”

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"Well, depending on who it is, I sometimes do requests..." The swordsmen said with a shrug,but a small smile began to creep across his face. She remaindered him of someone he had met some years ago; one of those free spirit types, once constrained by the pressures of society and everyday mundaneness, which only had a polarizing affect on a person of her character...eventually driving her into the pursuit of all things extreme and unconventional.

Granted, she might have turned into a yokai in the process of that pursuit, but in the end she was happy...and that was at least one attribute that these women shared: They were both far from the ordinary.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that..." Red hair said suddenly, glancing back across what had been up to a moment ago his arena for combat, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gripped onto the sword on his hip. "...these things usually have a 50 50 chance of playing itself out...so why not given 'em the chance? Not like I'm losing losing much by letting them live..."

Red Haired would turn his attention back to the women like being, taking a few mild steps forward, one hand was resting upon his sword at all times. Judging by his facial expression, red hair had relaxed, although his posturing still suggested that he was...ready, for anything...at any given moment...

"Besides, what's it to someone like you? If anything, it's better business..." That seemed uncharacteristic, at least considering Red Hair's actions. "...completely harmless to someone of considered skill or power...and judging by the way you picked up that man a moment ago, your at least not lacking in the power department."​

 

[Himitsu]

The redhead’s initial response elicited another toothy grin from the white-haired woman, amused at the playful nature of his comment. Of course, then he was looking thoughtful, turning his attention back towards her. She watched him the entire time with those golden eyes of hers, sharp and cunning despite the smell of alcohol on her. It could almost seem like a facade, maybe literal airs put on to fool those too dumb not to see her sharp intelligence… except that, as she squared to face him, she had to stifle another burp.

Shrugging one shoulder, she finished tucking the fabric about her wrist, securing it with several knots so she wouldn’t lose it. Not tight, though, looking at his wrists, they were a bit bigger around than her own. That’d come into play later, though. No need for him to worry his pretty little head about that.

“You’re not wrong,” she conceded, looking unconcerned about the fact that he had his hand on his sword, still. Either certain he wouldn’t attack or certain that it wouldn’t matter if he did. Hard to say which, she wore confidence as comfortably as the tonfa at the small of her back.

“The smartest thing for one such as me would be to make sure they live every time so they can keep going on doing their crimes and creating more things for me to clean up… Job security, as it were,” she chuckled drily, no real amusement in her voice. “A few brigands certainly don’t concern me terribly, as you’ve already guessed. But.. you know, here’s the pesky thing. That’s a lot of work. And requires staying in this godforsaken area where it never stops raining and really… I don’t like the rain. Not great for the hair.”

She flicked one hand back over her white, braided hair pointedly, fixing him with that smile that was just a little too feral to be entirely friendly once more before, abruptly, dipping in a mock bow.

“Mitsy, mercenary for hire, and wandering fan of warm, dry climates, at your service. And you are…?”

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

The man raised an eyebrow at the women's...apparent politeness. Not many around these parts often bowed, as it would appear "handshakes" seemed more common. However, this did not deter Red Hair's own politeness, responding with a bow of his own; giving a deep bow, paralleling his upper torso with the ground.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mitsy-san. My name is..." What Red Hair said next was came out (relatively) fast and came out foreign. It was only a few words, but it was rather incomprehensible to the ears of a local. "..,a pleasure to be of your acquaintance."

Red Hair would rise from his bow, maintaining his relaxed but vigilante posture, on ly tiling his head a little as he continued to observe the women.

"Hm, I cannot say that much of what you described is my problem...perhaps you should consider getting into a different trade, or perhaps move somewhere warmer...it is the beauty of mercenary work, and I hear there are many warm and dry places down South...though I suppose both would probably be too much work for you...too bad..." Red Hair shrugged again, his tone, despite his accent, was rather indifferent to the women's concerns. His own facial expression suggested that he was rather bemused by what the women had said. "...you generally don't get through much of life without some sort of effort, but I'm sure you can provide me with plenty of examples of the contrary..."​

 

[Himitsu]

Mitsy watched him as he introduced himself, chuckling softly as his name came out a tumble. Well, then. “I’ll just stick to ‘Slice’, seems appropriate enough to me,” she noted, jerking a thumb towards a piece of shirt that was still fluttering from its position stuck on a tree branch, sliced clean off from its wearer and peppered with the rain that was still gently cascading around them both.

He straightened again, and Mitsy took in all the small details. It wasn’t hard for her, this bit… but it was a point of pride to make her work as realistic and accurate as possible. Not that it would matter too much, he’d never be any the wiser, but… well, there were few things that Himitsu carried from her Clan into this godforsaken world, and her father’s skill at a perfect copy was one of the few things she still prided herself on.

A grin cracked over her lips as he mentioned her providing examples of coasting through life -- he wasn’t wrong. Still, it wasn’t her fault that humans were so stupid and made it so easy for her…

“Oh, come now. It requires a great degree of cunning to be particularly lazy,” she protested, though with this easy air that spoke to it being just as much banter as anything else. Stepping forward, she reached out and playfully ‘bopped’ him on the chin with her fist, complete with a wink that was somewhere between coy and predatory. “Stick around, red. I’ll show you a master class.”

A light laugh slid from her throat as she walked past him, clapping his shoulder as she did so. This time a bit harder, a pretty big hint that her earlier display of strength was certainly no fluke, but with no real intent to actually hurt him. With that, however, she strolled back the way she’d came, flicking her fingers over her shoulder in a farewell gesture. There was a pocketful of gold coins and a warm, dry bar stool with her name on them. Certainly it’d be a sight better than standing around a dripping, cold forest.

“See ya ‘round, Slice. I’ll buy you a drink next time.”

As if there was going to be a next time… but, hey, as far as diversions go, he’d been an entertaining one.

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"I suppose there's some wisdom in that..." The red hair mused, his eyes following the women's movements as she swayed forward. The man hardly made a moved when she gently boxed his chin, instead he a playful grin formed against is face as she winked. The grin would remain even when she came up to gripped onto his shoulder, which the red hair could only figure it was meant as some sort of warning. Not that it mattered to him; he had no quarrel with her...yet.

"...I can only hope your skills are as sharp as your tongue...as I look forward to seeing you in true action...someday...perhaps...that, and that drink you promise...but until then..." Red hair chuckled, bowing a little as he watched the women walk off. "...きをつけて(Take care)."

Red hair's grin would eventually fade just as she disappeared over the horizon. A few moments later, he would reached for the shoulder where her hand had been. Her strength was comparable to many in his past and present life...yet this entire interaction seemed oddly...familiar...daja vu, as some of the locals would say; a story that had happened to him before.

One thing was certain: This probably wasn't the last he was going to see of her.

It was probably after this thought, did Red Hair release his hand from the shoulder...then, quietly, made his way down the opposite end of the road...footsteps masked by the pitter patter sounds of the rain...​

 

[Himitsu]

Two days later, and the rain continued to fall, pattering onto the gently-sloped roofs of the village of Hoonah. It was a large village, as far as villages got ‘large’ in this part of the world, scattered as they were among the fields and farms of the local populace. It could have almost been considered a ‘town’, complete with an inn, tavern, and marketplace. All of the local villages funneled goods and people into this larger village, where they were disseminated to the rest of the world.

All, of course, under the watchful eye of the local enforcers -- the Blue Scarfs.

He’d probably have noticed it on his way in. No armed townsguard, no militia, no weapon-bearing man except that he wore a blue strip of cloth somewhere on his body, either around his upper arm or around his neck. Still, other than that oddity, the town seemed normal in every other regard: people moving about their business, trading goods and wares, the marketplace a bustling hubbub of noise and activity. Hoonah had the uncertain benefit of being located on one of the primary estuaries of the river system that would eventually lead to the sea, and thus, was a main source of traffic into and out of the area.

For the most part, he was completely ignored. Just another strange face in a throng of strange faces, and not important when most people had pressing concerns such as eating and making ends meet. The further he walked, however, he might notice an odd trend… several of the armed men he walked past nudged each other, gesturing to him before talking amongst themselves. None approached him, but the longer he was there, the more guards seemed to be watching him.

Waiting, for something…

At least, until there came the sounds of shouting coming from not too far away from him, in the direction of the tavern. Assuming, of course, that he went and investigated, he’d find a crowd thronged in a loose circle only a few feet out from the entrance of the tavern, several of the armed Blue Scarfs already there and pulling the scuffle of three men apart.

“What is going on here?!” demanded the armed guard in charge from underneath a rather impressive moustache.

The tavernkeeper’s face was red, sporting a really nasty black eye. “Dirty scoundrel trying to skip out on ‘is tab --”

“ -- an’ refusin’ t’ see the Boss!” added in one of other men involved in the scuffle, wearing a blue handkerchief around his neck. The armed guard glanced at them both, then looked at the third man, who was flat on the ground unconscious, his butt up in the air in a crumpled position that certainly didn’t look comfortable.

“Who?!” the armed guard demanded. The tavernkeeper and other man looked around them, alarmed, then the tavernkeeper pointed into the crowd.

“Him!”

Right at the Redheaded ronin standing amongst the other observers.

“Get him!” Moustache instructed to the half-dozen men behind him, and the crowd abruptly began to scatter from around Redhair in order not to get caught up in the conflict. “You are under arrest!” the armed guard hollered.

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"Eh?" Was the only thing red haired could produced, as he felt the presence of the mob quickly surround him, and the feeling was quite malicious. Red hair's own expression was that of confusion(to say the least), as at the moment he had in his hand a half eaten corn cob lifted halfway towards his face. Red hair slowly lowered his corn cob, looking around at the crowed trying to figure out what they, up until this point, angry about.

"Uh-""GET 'IM!"

Red hair scarily even had a moment to ask what was going on when one of the guards tried to tackle him, which caused Red Hair to instinctively throw his the corn cob at the man. The flying cob must have had some force behind it, as it appeared to slam into the man like a rock and send him flying into the ground. This would prompt two more to enter the fray: One was armed with a polearm, while the other had drew a bludgeon.

"Please, no trouble." Too late, as the guard with the polearm brought his weapon down on red hair. At least, he tried, as red hair took a quick step to the side and watched in semi-confusion as the weapon narrowly missed him by a hair. The red hair's next reaction was to quickly kick up his feet, unsticking the weapon from the ground and flung it back upwards, past the red hair's face, and smacking stright into it's user's own face. This caused the man with the polearm to stagger backwards, as the bludgon man came forward and began swinging wildly. These were also narrowly dodged by the red hair, as he had to maneuver his upper torso up and down in quick succession to avoid getting tranced on the head. At some point, the polearm man would recover enough to charge red hair again. But the man did, red hair just managed to duck, letting the bludgeon man in front of him to swing over his head and stright into the polearm man, knocking him to the side. Bludgeon man froze for a secound, realizing his blunder, but red head was quick to capitalize upon it, as he quickly brought up his foot and

*FWOMP*

The crowed simultaneously squeamed and recoiled, as the bludgeon man dropped his weapon and clutched downwards.But this created an opening for red hair, as the mob recoiled and the man had bent over clutching his new bruise, it was now or never. Gripping onto the larger sword on his hip, red hair bolted forward and lept onto the back of the bludgeon man. As the man was trying to nurse his new wound, red hair used him as a springboard and promptly launch himself into the air, over the mob with a bit of a spin.

Red hair would land into a roll, sliding to a halt on his knee. Again, he didn't have time to react, as a quick glance from behind would reveal that the crowed had recovered and was just about ready to trample him.

Wasting no time, red hair would quickly launch himself into a sprint, taking off speeding at full force down the street with the mob ready to tear him limb from limb. The man was no doubt fast, as he almost instantly outpaced the mob, and he might have gotten away had not more guards shown up to block his path. This only left him with one option: The market.

Seeing that it was between a fight or fruit, red hair decided to choose fruit, as he quickly veered into the crowded market.

It was here that red hair was slowed a bit, as he tried to push himself through the crowed. As the mob approached the market, the mustached guard quickly began yelling for the guards to disperse and surround the now fugitive. The guards did so, as the began running, left, right, and down the center of the market, finding just as much difficulty if not more so trying to push through the crowed. The guards were actually really close at catching red hair a couple of times, but were quickly duped when red head quickly rolled over or under the various vending stalls and into a new lane, much to the frustration of his pursers.

Eventually, red hair made it onto the otherside, his pursers still trying to get through the market. Red hair wasted no time, as he sprinted forward through the mud and around the corner, going so fast he almost ran stright into someone...​

 

[Himitsu]

The redheaded swordman had managed to put some distance between himself and his pursuers, tearing around a corner into a much less-traveled portion of the town, a narrow set of alleyways that weren’t really used by anyone, as they were too narrow to bear storefronts or support much in the way of foot traffic. Except, apparently, him. And the man he almost ran into, both of them sort of gripping their swords and straightening to keep from plowing right into each other, in this crazy mirror-image sort of way…

“Hey, watch it!” red hair snapped.

It was him -- his face, his hair, his voice, everything, right down to the two swords tucked in his belt.

But it wasn’t him -- because immediately Other Red Hair blinked in surprised recognition.

“Oh shit -- Slice, hey!” Other Red Hair sort of took a step back, looking up and down the man in front of him, a slow, wolfy grin sliding over his face. “... damn, I really did a good job on this one. Here I was thinking I was losing my touch, but … yeah! Not bad.”

Before he could continue speaking, however, there was the sound of clanging at the end of the alleyway, and around the corner came skidding several of the guards, with Moustache in the front. There was this moment as they froze upon the sight of two Red Hairs in front of them, looking back and forth between the two with this comical expression of confusion and shock on their faces. It was pretty obvious that no one had expected to find two of the men that they were pursuing standing in front of them. Shortly, however, Moustache gave himself a visible shake.

“Get him!” he ordered.

“Sir...which one?!” the man at his right questioned, earning a hard cuff from the armed man in charge.

“Both of them!” he bellowed.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Other Red Hair said conversationally, reaching up to clap Red Hair on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Well, a friendly manner until he suddenly shoved the other man towards the armed guards with a substantial amount of strength behind it. “Good luck!” he called over his shoulder, because he was already tearing down the alleyway in the direction that the guards were not.

Hey, he hadn't gotten paid nearly enough to deal with this nonsense.

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

Slice? Didn't take long for him to figure who this was. Why was he not surprised? Red hair had known somthing suspect about that individual, it was practically only thing he had thought about within the past two days...

*Ahem*

Of course, these thoughts were definitely plagued much suspicion in mind...plus, there was really nothing more to think about...other then the rain.

Anyways...unfortunately for the other Red Hair, the OG Red Hair wasn't some push over. Human or not, he had a few tricks up his sleeves. The momentum from the push had propelled the OG Red Hair backwards, within arms reach of the guards. Yet it was using this momentum, the OG Red Hair was able to dig his sandals into the mud, allowing for his feet to get a good solid grip on the ground. Just as those behind him made a lung, the OG Red Hair launched himself forward like a ballista, leaving the men behind him to be left crashing into the mud.

The OG red hair yelled somthing incomprehensible, it was presumably somthing angry, as he began to chase down his target. For a human, he was pretty darn fast, as the mob behind him were getting left behind, as he kept pace with the clone in front of him. For what it was worth, he had to admit: It was one of the best clones of him he had ever seen of himself. Believe it or not, this won't be the first time the OG Red Hair had been chased through the streets by angry mob after being framed...although the setting was a world apart...but those are stories for another time.

Right now, Mr. OG just focused on getting his hands on his clone. OG Red Hair had been having a pretty good day up until this point. In truth, the man couldn't really tell if this was an up to his day or a down; perhaps when he finally caught up with his impostor, maybe...just maybe he could still walk away with an okay day...​

 

[Himitsu]

Other Red Hair wasn’t sure what he expected, but to glance behind himself and find that OG Red Hair was right there on his heels was certainly not it. His eyebrows arched in an expression of surprise as he realized he should probably take this one seriously. And, really, it wasn’t surprising in retrospect, but in Other Red Hair’s defense, he had been super drunk a couple of days ago when he’d run into him…

Still, he managed to keep just a step or two ahead of OG Red Hair, ducking one grab and tumbling forward over an old-rundown cart that loomed in front of them in order to escape another.

“Not too shabby,” he called, grinning, this gleam to his eyes like… like he was enjoying this whole thing, nevermind the angry mob of armed guardsmen or the less-than-pleased expression on OG Red Hair’s face or the fact that they were in the middle of a town that seemed determined to get its hands on both of them in a not-very-friendly way. A tilting laugh would drift back to OG Red Hair’s ears as the copy slide around another corner, apparently to tear down another alleyway --

-- except for when OG Red Hair came around this corner it was right into Other Red Hair’s hand, because the other man had stopped and put his hand out in expectation of him coming around the corner right behind him --

-- and without waiting for explanation sort of jerked OG Red Hair down with him, flat on the ground, just in time to avoid the barrage of arrows that shot through the air where they’d been exactly a second before, from the bows of the dozen or so armed guardsmen who’d apparently taken up a waiting ambush at the end of the alleyway. Other Red Hair propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at the wall behind them that was still quivering with arrows with an exhale of relief that they were in the wall and not in their bodies, then looked over at OG Red Hair.

“I’m too handsome be a pincushion,” Other Red Hair winked, paired with another of those coy grins. The insinuation, of course, being that OG Red Hair himself was said ‘too handsome’ since it was his face Other Red Hair was currently wearing.

Too little time for flirting, though, and with a lunge, Other Red Hair was coursing forwards, leaping high into the air. And for just a moment -- a second, maybe -- it almost, almost, seemed like he had fox ears and multiple bushy, silken tails -- but it was impossible to tell, because a barrage of pale white-blue fireballs shot out forward in a cascade, exploding across skin and shield alike and setting the guards to frantically patting clothes that were now on fire and burned patches of skin.

Other Red Hair landed lightly on the other side of the flailing guards, brushing his pants off and turning to flick two fingers at OG Red Hair in a ‘see ya later’ sort of gesture, grinning before taking off again, while leaving OG Red Hair to deal with the guards who were getting over the fire and looking up at him again…

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"やめる" The OG Red Hair muttered under his breath, as he watched his impostor round the corner again. Mr. OG might have continued the momentum as he rounded the corner, had it not been for some force suddenly been pulled downwards into the mud.

OG didn't need to look up to hear the whistling of the arrows as they flew over his head. OG didn't raise his head first, taking a moment to keep his face pointed towards the ground, slowly lifting it to look at his clone with a less then amused look. Mr. OG was now covered in mud, and no amount of coy looks was going to change the fact that his day had been kinda ruined. Now granted, those words and that look did have an effect on him, but still...

"You...have...a lot...of exp-"

OG didn't really have much time to finish his sentence before his impostor had shot upwards into the air and turned into a...no way...Was this a joke? Was he hallucinating? Maybe he did not drink enough water?

But then everything began to add up, what with this person now looking like him...though, as much as he hated to admit it, he did have to acknowledge that...he looked pretty cute with animal ears...and yeah, the tails did help....

Anyways, OG Red Hair took a moment to take iin what had transpired...and he wanted to stay there on the ground to process what had happened. Too bad the guards were currently on fire. In one instance, the bladesmen had pushed himself quickly onto his feet, lowering his stance as he did. With one motion, he drew his katana forward into a slashing motion stright down into the mud. This kicked up a wave of cool mud, stright onto the first few guards. OG Red Hair then began to slash at the ground, back and forth, as he kicked up his fee to advance forward, sending a series of mud waves at the guards.

Needless to say, the prusers were quickly covered in the mud, although their fires had been put out. Problem now for them was that the mud was rather slippery, causing them to slip and sink, as the rain pattered on. This gave OG Red Hair enough time to quickly move, rushing past the guards, whom at this point could do little but flail themselves at the OG, which usually ended with them collapsing and slipping further into the mud.

OG would follow his impostor's trail, quickly arriving to an opening in the town...as he began scanning the area...looking for clues on where his clone had escaped to...
​

 

[Himitsu]

It seemed as if the distraction had bought Other Red Hair just enough time, because as OG Red Hair rounded the corner he’d find himself in another small bazaar area, like a subset of the marketplace that had forgotten the real marketplace was on the other side of the town, or was catering to those less inclined to walk all the way across to the main area. It was little more than an open area with a cluttering of food stalls and a vendor frying meat to one side, but there were more than a few people moving about.

Out here the sound of the armed guards was distant, the only occasional punctuation to the gentle pattering of rain on rooftops and stall awnings the call of the meat-vendor to try his wares. Even the gentle murmur of conversation seemed muted by the precipitation. It meant, however, that no one even glanced his way as OG Red Hair made his appearance and took in the marketplace...

… and no sign of, well, himself.

Really, all Other Red Hair needed was just a second, just a moment to make the switch… but there was a problem with that, because OG Red Hair knew the face that Other Red Hair would have switched in to in any other situation. And his other backup faces wouldn’t work, not covered with mud the way he was. So he’d had to come up with something, throw a look together, but he hadn’t had to do that in a long time and… well, he was a bit rusty. Not one of his best faces, that was for sure.

A farmer, to account for the mud, with a nondescript face, nondescript clothes… just another face in the crowd, though he was leaning up against the wall, standing next to a pile of firewood as if he’d lugged it in himself and was waiting to sell it. The only thing that had snuck in, too late to change it, was a damn moustache, from that damned guard who was shouting at them because it’d been amusing, and he wiggled his nose annoyedly at the tickling hair. Huffing slightly in annoyance, he linked his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall behind himself, watching the marketplace through half-lidded golden eyes.

Well, that was that, then. It’d been fun, but all good things had to come to an end.

Maybe he’d at least get out of this damn rain, for once…

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

It was on the first sight of a civilian, OG quickly brought his swords up and sheathed it into it's scabbard. OG Red Hair may have stood out in the crowed, but he didn't need to attract more attention by brandish his weapon about. Still, he kept a hand on the sheath of his weapon and the other on the actual grip, ready to launch into action if he needed to

So, Mr. OG advanced into the bazaar, turning his to and fore, scanning the area quickly before the guards had a chance to catch up. OG had made his way around the bazaar, examining ever single person closely, not exactly a hundred percent sure what he was even looking for. OG Red Hair must have made at least two passes of this mustached individual, once stopping to look around, before reentering the bazaar at a quick pace.

It was only on the third pass did it hit him, as his eyes were only idly passing by...when they noticed somthing rather...out of place.

When that realization hit him, OG would come to an abrupt stop...slowly standing up stright into a relaxed posture, removing the hand from his sword handle. A small grin began to form on his face, as he turned...

"Yo!" OG called out to get this fellow's attention, as he strode up to this individual. When OG Red Hair was at a closer distance, he reached out with his arms and planted it next to the man's head, casually leaning over as he glanced back to see if the guards were coming.

"So...you a local from around here?" OG mused, turning back to the person directly in front of him. Narrowing his eyes, OG began to lean closer and closer to this particular individual. "...'cause...I don't recall the people around here having...golden eyes...not to mention the incredibly...fake...tacky...mustaches."​

 

[Himitsu]

He could see the man he’d mimicked earlier moving through the crowd, obviously searching… but didn’t pay it much heed. There was nothing to give him away unless he gave himself away. He just needed to wait, let Slice get bored and wander off -- or the guards would catch up to him and that’d be the end of that. So he hardly was paying any attention to what the swordsman was even doing, already thinking about the easiest way to sneak aboard a ship and get the heck outta here. Somewhere warmer, somewhere more interesting than rain and --

“Yo!”

‘Yo’? What sort of greeting was ‘yo’? And why was he looking this way? There was no way he could tell, there was no magical trace, no heightened sense of smell that could tell him, and there was no way he’d seen, he’d been too far behind…

But Red Hair planted his hand on the wall next to the Perfectly Innocent Farmer’s head, this confident grin on his face as he leaned in…

… and dammit, his eyes. He knew he’d forgotten something. Rusty, indeed.

For just the barest of seconds, the Kitsune was a bit speechless, blinking up at the swordsman. Only a heartbeat, though, before that amused cockiness slid back into place.

“Tch!” he folded his arms over his chest. “Slice, that’s quite rude of you. I don’t do fake. It’s quite real… wanna see?” He leaned forward slightly, grinning… but even in the midst of his teasing, his eyes were drawn past Red Hair’s shoulder, to where the guards had made it into the square, sporting singed bits and broken weapons, and more than a few angry scowls. They were fanning out across the sparsely populated marketplace, only minutes away from landing eyes on the swordsman whose back was currently to them.

How easy it’d be to just give him a shove, let Red Hair deal with the guards, make an escape -- this time, for real. He was beginning to think, however, that it wouldn’t be quite that easy to be rid of the smiling swordsman…

Muttering an annoyed oath under his breath, Perfectly Innocent Farmer reached up once more, grabbing the swordsman by the front of his robe, and practically dragged him along a few steps to where there was a door in the wall behind them. It was locked, but only with a flimsy stick across the top latch, so a quick jerk got it open with just enough time to step through and tug him through as well before shutting it behind him.

It was a warehouse inside, lit only by several square windows near the roof that let in the white-blue light of the thick clouds outside. Scattered boxes mostly stocked near the far end interrupted the expanse of the large inner room, a double pair of loading doors across from them the only other entrance or exit to the room. They could hear the hubbub of the marketplace outside, but it was mostly drowned out by the sound of the raindrops on the roof overhead.

“All right, fine, you caught me,” she said as she jammed the door handle behind them so no one would be able to follow them in, turning back towards him. Because she was quite suddenly back to the face that he’d met her in, white-haired, golden eyes, tonfa resting at the small of her back. She hopped up onto a nearby box to sit, planting her elbows on her thighs as she grinned at him. “What, you want a prize or something?”

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"I think you people have a saying for a situation like this..." Red Hair said when the "farmer" began to drag him along. "...I think it goes somthing like: You could at least buy me dinner first."

Truth be told, Red Hair really had no idea what that phrase meant. The bladesmen had picked up the phrase at a tavern some time ago, when he had been idly watching a man being smacked about by some female. It was at some point during the beat down the man uttered that phrase, which seem to have some affect on the women, as she would smile at him...before breaking a chair over his head.

Regardless, Red Hair allowed the this "farmer" to drag him into the warehouse, satisfy in the knowledge that he had finally caught his impostor. When the "farmer", or rather Misty-san, had finally decided to let go, Red Hair would begin brushing himself off. Although much of the mud from earlier still remained.

The women's voice caused the bladesmen to idly turn around, at first a glance he seemed to have a mild look on his face, more concerned with the mud then anything else. But then it turned into a...smile, of sorts. Red Hair would slowly saunter up to her, putting a hand against the box she was sitting on, before leaning in close...to a point where their faces were mere inches apart.

"What do I want?..." The bladesmen said slyly, as he stared into her bright gold eyes, bringing up a finger up to "boop" her on the nose. "...First...I want an explanation as to why you had decided to it was a great idea to impersonate me...then, I want to know what you have been doing...as me...and then...well, we're get there once you've answered my questions..."

​

 

[Himitsu]

Her eyebrows shot up as … He booped her. On the nose. He, a human, booped her, a shapeshifting trickster, on the nose. Like she was cute and harmless and not entirely capable of eating him. Well, maybe he didn’t know that part, but still!

The audacity.

“Oooh or what?” she said, wiggling forward just a little bit on the box as if to call his bluff, this grin on her face. “You’ll smack me with your big sword?” Complete with a rather suggestive eyebrow waggle as she dropped her eyes to his belt then back up.

Though, in large part to ensure she didn’t actually get hit with a sword in a not-fun not-euphemism way, she shrugged one shoulder and continued.

“Anyway, I wasn’t actually masquerading as you. Your name is utterly incomprehensible, so I was masquerading as the bandit-vanquishing Wannaslice Timmy. I’d like to point out that you were the one who made it necessary to use your face. I needed to clear out those bandits to get paid, you did all the work but didn’t have the decency to kill them, so then I had to look like you to get paid.” She flicked one hand dismissively over her shoulder, leaning back on the box, propped up on her hands. “I couldn’t take the chance that one of them would come back roaming into town if I was wearing the wrong face and then I’d get in trouble…”

Of course, that didn’t explain the fact that he was definitely in trouble if the whole ‘armed guards and half of the town chasing them’ was any indication.

He didn’t have long to wait, though.

“This is your fault,” she said, reaching out and poking him square in the chest. “You weren’t even supposed to notice. You were heading in the opposite direction -- if you’d just kept going, I could have enjoyed my reward, then switched to a new face, and neither of us would have ever had to care about the whole ‘slept with the daughter of the local kingpin who’s not happy about it’ thing.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh. Well. At least she’d explained why everyone in the damn town seemed like they wanted to kill him.

"But, hey! Wannaslice Timmy totally outdrank the local champ and got his name put up on the wall of legends in the tavern, so... Yay you! Accomplishments!"

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"Don't temped me." Was the only thing the baldesmen was able to get in, before the women launched into her explanation. In all truthfulness, he probably would've have smacked her into submission with the blunt end of his sword...

...Wait, that didn't come out right...

Anyways, as the women began to describe what had transpire, the bladesmen's expression went through a rollercoaster of expressions, shifting from a rather eyebally stare to some rather sarcastic eye rolling. The whole "slept with the daughter of the local kingpin" didn't exactly please him, so to say...as the blademen glanced up to one of the windows. There was an armed cadre out for his neck, and he couldn't even say he did any of what she described. Finally, when she mentioned the drinking ordeal, his expression could be described as flabbergasted. It was only after that, he slowly looked down and sighed, as he placed his weight against the crate...but then....he started chuckling...which then turned into a small laugh...for some reason.

"Alright, alright...perhaps I should have left you to your faith..." The bladesmen said as his chuckled turned into a small grin, bring a hand up and gently clasping onto her pointed arm, bring it down from his chest. "...I think the alcohol thing may have been where you over did it...not to mention sleeping with...whoever...though, I'll admit...Wannaslice Timmy is a passable name for me...now, let's figure out how we are going to get out of this mess...you owe me that at the very least for abusing my face like the way you did."


​

 

[Himitsu]

“Her name was Daffodil. I’ll introduce you,” Mitsy volunteered about the woman in question, this flippant, easy laugh to her voice.

He might catch it, though -- even as he pushed her one hand down, the other was still behind her, theoretically propped up on the crate’s surface, but in reality, subtly, gripping the handle of her tonfa. And underneath that cocky nonchalance, she hadn’t stopped watching him, golden eyes taking in every little shift of his weight that might give her advance warning of his next move. Despite her demeanor, she was ready for him to take a swing at her, or worse… It was only a matter of time, after all. As a rule, humans didn’t like her, and there was one reliable way that they expressed that dislike.

The chuckling… though. Didn’t seem forced. And then he was… volunteering her to help? Oh, the audacity on this one.

She grinned. “Not my face anymore, Timmy my boy, not my problem.”

Really, that should have been the end of it, as far as she was concerned. Slip into something comfy and nondescript, out she went, leaving this whole mess behind her and if he was smart he’d do the same. Leave this whole stupid place with no further care to anything that happened with him or the humans or its half-drowned town… Humans couldn’t be trusted, especially not after they knew too much about her, and especially especially if they could keep up with her. Dangerous, that… Dangerous, him.

But…

She growled low in her throat, leaning forward once more. “Fine. I’ll put your face back on, go out, cause a bit of a distraction. They’ll be so busy chasing me that you can sneak out the back, get down to the river, grab a ride… get out of here. You go your way, I go mine, and that’s the end of it. Deal?” She even stuck out her hand to shake on, as if that would reassure him that she wasn't going to just leave him hanging out to dry.

Seemed plenty fair as far as she was concerned. She had enough gold to get to the next town and the next job, which she was pretty serious about being somewhere not-raining. And, for her own self-interest, somewhere with a serious lack of handsome red-headed swordsmen.

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"I think I'll pass..." Red Hair said, raising an eyebrow at what the women had said about the...daughter...as the very thought of more complication would only serve to give him a headache. Though, seemed like that restraint didn't really matter, because what the women said next made him inwardly groan, as the bladesmen didn't say anything at first about the women's proposal.

He didn't say it, but he knew that it would be plenty easy enough to escape the town on his own, as he could probably outrun the entire town guard without much of a problem. Frankly, a part of Red Hair wanted some sort of consequence to come of it, even if it meant that he himself might get dragged into all of this.

But...did he want to really drag this out more then it was? The day had already been long enough as is...Probably should be on his way in honesty...not that he had much of an objective anyways, but things were really getting to antsy around here. Red Hair would really rather not have to draw his blade on anyone...for once.

The bladesmen sighed, as he slowly lifted his hand up...and took her hand....and began to sway it back and forth? He really was still getting used to this "shaking hands" business.

"Alright...let this be the end of this once we've parted...may we never have to see each other again." Red Hair nodded, looking at the women with a now indifferent look...though his eyes were a bit...disappointed...Still, it probably was nothing...right?​

 

[Himitsu]

The white-haired woman watched him as he considered her proposal, not moving her hand or otherwise rushing him as he decided. It seemed straight-forward enough to Mitsy, but he didn’t seem to run the way she did, all impulse and instinct, not much thought or consideration for consequences or the like. Consequences were for humans, people with stuck faces. None of it ever came close to comparing to the consequences she’d already dealt with.

Then he took her hand and… swung it back and forth. All right. “Wh… what are you even doing?” she asked, incredulous, this laugh in her voice. Not the mocking, sharp one she’d tossed around like a weapon, but this soft, amused chuckle. “That’s not -- Stop, you’re just embarrassing both of us.”

She planted her other hand on the outside of his to stop him from swinging their hands back and forth, instead directing him to shake it up and down. “See? Much better, right? Now we’re in agreement. I’ll pull them off and give them a right grand old chase, and you’ll go back to your wandering, bandit-coddling ways. That’ll be that,” she confirmed, giving his hand another good shake, before moving to release.

Her attempt to reassure him, however, only seemed to set his face more, and it threw her for a bit of a loop. If she didn’t know better -- which she definitely did -- it almost seemed like that solution was… less appealing than she would have expected. Maybe he was expecting his share of the gold? Or maybe one of those strange machismo type things, where he wanted to have a hand in his own glory, or whatever…? He didn’t seem the type, but she’d been surprised before.

“Well. It’s been real, Slice, but --” she began… but then an odd expression crossed her face, and she reached up and put a finger on his lips. “Ssh,” she said, without bothering to explain herself, tilting her head as she glanced to the side.

Something had changed. While she was so focused on him, she’d forgotten to listen, to pay attention to what was doing on, and something was different, now… Something was wrong. Cursed rain muffling and obscuring everything, making it harder for her to hear, to catch up with what had been happening while she was so damn caught up with the fascinating conundrum that was the man in front of her…

“Shit, we gotta --”

Go, but it was too late. The double doors slammed open, and a second later someone had kicked down the smaller door that they’d come in through. In through the openings flooded easily two dozen of the armed guards, some already bearing signs of previous interactions with one or both of them -- burned or singed armor, broken weapons, bloody noses -- but many more looking much more fresh and determined to see the brigands who’d wounded their compatriots come to justice. Even as they entered the room, one of Mitsy’s hands snapped out, grabbing his before he could take hold of his swords, stopping him for just a moment.

Her eyes were not on the men surrounding them with their melee weapons and their stupid clunky shields. Her gaze was on the windows near the roof, out of reach of even her ability to leap, and the four archers that she could make out, barely framed in the windows. Their footstops had been what she’d heard on the roof, but too late. Too distracted. Foolish, foolish fox, she chided herself mentally, getting distracted by a pretty face.

Not inescapable, by any means, for her. She could use her fire, burn the whole damn building down. It wouldn’t be any real effort, and she’d slip out in the commotion, be fine and on her way before any of them realized what had happened. But … Her eyes dropped to the man in front of her.

“We surrender,” she called over her shoulder, one eyebrow arching slightly as she regarded Slice pointedly. “... for now,” she added, under her breath, complete with a wink towards him as she released his hands to put her own hands up.

 

[Wakasugi Touma]

"Huh? Oh!...Yes, my mistake..." The bladesmen nodded upon realizing his mistake, lowering his head out of embarrassment, as a small blush had formed on his face. Out of all the things that happened today, getting handshaking wrong seemed to have flustered Red hair the most. It would appear the disappointment from earlier had dissolved, as a more grateful expression entered his face.

...no wonder they had given him a weird look...

However, the moment would be quickly lost, as the women in front of him had physically shushed him. This caught the bladesmen off guard, as he watched her stare off to space trying to do...somthing...but then, the bladesmen's own sense of surroundings would suddenly returned to him...

That was when the doors burst open, and a horde of guards came pouring into the warehouse. These guards quite obviously did not seem happy, as they quickly began to surround the two, looking quite malicious as they did.

Of course, Red Hair's first instincts was to grip onto his main weapon, perhaps not to draw it stright away but to be ready. This was quickly stopped by a hand from the women. This startled the bladesmen a bit, causing him to turn his attention away from the guards to the women in front of him. The look Red Hair gave her was a pointed one, a "what-are-you-scheming?" kind of look. But when he notice that she was looking at somthing, his expression dropped, as he followed her gaze...and realized

Wouldn't be the first time that the bladesmen had been surrounded from every angle...it wouldn't be easy, but it was certainly tangible in the mind of the swordsmen. Of course, it did reach his mind why she had restrained his hand: Even the slightest of hostile movements could mean the entire battalion of guards would descend upon the two of them.

The bladesmen would thus relax his posturing upon her words, instead began to emulate said women, as he began to slowly raise his hands away from his blade and into the air. As the blademen's eyes shift edto hers, he noticed her wink, which could really only mean one thing: She might have a plan.

Now weather that plan was somthing was a good idea...was still up for debate...
​