[Muramasa Uemon]

from the unknown...

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Night... it provided the perfect shroud for all sorts of things.

For several days now someone had been tailed by this shadowy figure. A swordsman... and samurai to be exact. Truth be told he had no idea if the man knew anything of use to him. Though when it came to those who wielded katana it didn't much make a difference. One way or another he'd find out.

Perched along a wide branch his dark eyes followed the figure. "Easy mark." Due to the lantern he was carrying and the slow pace with which the man traveled along the road he was a prime target for any highwaymen that lurked about. That... or the vengeful son of a swordsmith. "I'll make camp further up the road." He thought to himself, eyes moving to the distance. It was doubtful any traveler could resist a warm campfire on such a cool night. Even a proud samurai of the Land of Iron. "Keep on walking... like a fly to honey." Not wanting to waste another second the hooded pursuer leapt to another branch. Then another... making his way along the treetops with haste.

Faster and faster he jumped. Gone eagerly to bait his trap.

A few miles past the samurai's last known position is where he chose, a cozy-looking alcove just off the main path. "Perfect." A firepit and two logs used for benches already resided there. Didn't take long for him to gather up some kindling and get a small blaze going using a small piece of flint and a kunai. Blowing on the embers to bring it life, he went about in preparation. For his bandaged gear he placed it behind a nearby tree. Easy access. A sleek black katana he allowed to lean against the log he sat on, near his left side for quick use. Slyly, he had unfurled a scroll and placed it under the opposite bench. Completely hidden by the log's heft. An inviting den full of hidden dangers. "Now to wait." It was all he had left to do at this point. Wait... and steel himself for what was to come.

Under his hood a thin scar was visible on the left side of his forehead above his eyebrow. The young man leaned forward in his seat one hand held in the other as he thought.

Violence was in store... though just how much he could not say.

---

[Kyodai Jirou]

Kyodai Jirou

The Voice of Jashin 

The hunt never ended. The constant searching, educating, and wandering... However, it was an indicator frequently used by the immortal to indicate if he had lingered too long in one area. Once the loneliness kicked in, that was when he moved on. When the roads became too familiar and started to spark memories of old. 

This time Jirou had been mapping villages and visiting old ones, dodging searching eyes and loud voices. He was in Hi no kuni, they had no love for him. Usually, he could not care less, but... a certain hyuga hailed from these lands, and running into him was like running headfirst into a fire. Time and time again he pondered searching out the blonde medic boy in sunagakure, but decided against it. He was lost and he was more of a distraction, he would never make a pupil. Jirou now was searching for a place to settle down for the night, only stopping when the scent of smoke and moist wood caught his attention. 

Now, who was brave enough to light a fire? Someone not afraid of the law or bandits. Someone capable, certainly. Yellow eyes were locked onto the direction the smoke came from and before he knew it he had made a decision. Lighting a fire was too much trouble, he would rather borrow one tonight. Lazily he made his way through the woods, a tune playing in his head and the scythe used as a walking stick. Perhaps this stranger had food. Perhaps... he was food. For him and dear Jashin. 

A shadow sat on a log, firelight played across the ground, dancing with the darkening shadows. Young. Light-skinned and with a hood. Blade out in the open and a welcoming campsite. Something fishy or someone had a need for comfort. He approached, a hand resting on a nearby tree,

"mind sharing that fire, boy?" 

code by ♥

[Muramasa Uemon]

i ran away, i don't think i'm coming back home...

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The unexpected... he needed to be better at learning to expect it.

As the shadow sat on his log, pondering the implications of his future actions another figure approached. Equally as mysterious... and more foreboding than himself. Some sort of scythe, a wicked-looking thing used to help him along. The Grimmest of Reapers from the sight of him. "Be my guest..." The hooded form spoke, gesturing to the log opposite him. Dark eyes followed every movement with the utmost of scrutiny. A most intriguing turn. Normally he would have been concerned with such a development. A wrench thrown into his machinations. But recent experiences with a stranger caught in his schemes showed him that help could come from unexpected places.

Besides, this man did not seem one to shy away from conflict.

Flames crackled and one of the twigs split from the heat. "Cold night." A simple statement, his soft-spoken voice muffled just slightly from the collar of his jacket. Though he did not appear particularly tense there was certainly a weight in the air. Perhaps provided by his own intentions. Further amplified by the stranger's own.

An uneasy calm before the storm...

For now, there was not much to do aside from sit and wait. This newcomer was still an unknown quantity in his plan. Help? Hindrance? Maybe something else entirely. While he sat he continued to stare. Gaze, ever discerning.

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