Ame-onna [Mika]

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Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 27, 2023 23:01:58 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
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groupWandering-Nin
age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


the universality

Slowly but surely his expression regulated itself. In part thanks to Mika's words. "Just tired." He thought. Yeah. Definitely had to be it. Already had plenty to brood about without defending others who didn't need it.

The Shinobi World was full of all kinds of wrong. No one person could right it all, especially not him. There was no room for heroism in his tale. Yet people like that irked him still. Even after all these years... all his training. For a long while the two strode in silence. Nothing but the gentle thump of the rain around them for background noise. It allowed him time to think some more. Stuck in his own head as usual. Much had happened already...

At least he could never say that his time in Arashi no Kuni had been dull.

On the subject of parents, Mika offered more than he expected. Apparently her mother made textiles. "Weaver." He said with a slight nod as she spoke. Listening intently. Now her exchange with the tailor made a bit more sense. Just, as some context was still missing. The woman's comment thinking that she'd died... but perhaps that was a story for later. She did not seem to want to talk about it. "Fair." He replied, soft-spoken as ever. "I don't like talking about my parents either." His mother, sometimes. Though any way you slice it his past was a bleak one. Something that Mika had already picked up on. Wasn't like he tried to hide it much. Acting wasn't his forte. Even his eyes were sad.

A question came to mind as they walked and he glanced at the woman. "So... what do you do when you aren't being a guide for a couple of strays?" She knew how to manipulate a seal. And was familiar enough with gate procedures and the world that he figured she had some kind of shinobi background. "...you don't make fabric too, do you?"


Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 27, 2023 23:29:25 GMT -5
Mikazuki Aikawa
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
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Mikazuki Aikawa Avatar
groupRain Shinobi
age 23 years old birthday March 3rd rank Chuunin occupation



you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you


Weaver. So, that was the word, after all... or was it? After all, maybe he was making a guess of it, too. Either way, it didn't matter--they were on the same page, and that was what was most important. He didn't like talking about his parents, either. Good. Something they'd have in common--so, they'd hopefully be able to keep their silences and not prod into uncomfortable conversations that weren't necessary. He didn't need to know about her parents--they didn't matter, and they were dead and gone, anyway. Besides, she had nothing good to say about them.
    If there was any respect to be had for the dead, the most gracious thing she could do was keep her mouth shut.
    The question of whether or not she made fabric, too, made her deadpan. "No," she responded curtly. She had no interest in the trade--even the idea of sitting at a loom just like her mother used to made any soul left inside her wish to wither up and die. I'd rather sell my organs on the black market. Her expression shifted. Actually, would something like that be helpful? Maybe I couldn't donate a heart or something, but my regenerative abilities are pretty decent considering what you can do.
    As interested as I am with the concept of you selling your body, Mika, there's no reason to traumatize your body further than you already have.
    She placed her hand on her chin, frowning pensively. But think about it.
    Not thinking about it. You're my fucking vessel, I don't want other people having bits and pieces of what's mine.
    You're right. It's probably best that there's not a bunch of Amegakure shinobi or citizens running around with my DNA in their systems. When I die, it's probably best that there's no trace of me left in this world. Like what Special Forces due to nukenin if they get caught... Thought processing aside... "I was a shinobi when I was younger. Only a genin, though. Nothing impressive." She glanced over her shoulder to give Muramasa an odd smirk, then wiggled her fingers a little for dramatic flair. "Now I spend my free time haunting the village. Scaring little kids. You know, important things like that~" She'd let her hands fall back down to her sides. "What about you? Since we're digging into personal questions, it seems only fair that I prod you, too, right? You're a swordsmith by trade, right? But since you're travelling on the road and whatnot, surely you know how to fight. Do you specialize in kenjutsu at all? Or would that be too obvious, so you have other tricks up your sleeve that you like to use instead?"





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Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 28, 2023 2:06:51 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
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age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


very familiar

At her response to his question about fabrics he noted her straight face. Seemed they had that in common as well. It was almost funny in its own way... if he were the laughing type, that is.

Suddenly the conversation turned interesting. Tidbits, little clues here and there. A tiny peek behind the curtain. Regarding strangers, he was much the same. Offering only the bare minimum or pieces of information he deemed unimportant. Wasn't like he had people out to get him or anything... but if the wrong person discovered his intentions it could be bad. A homeland and fondness for haikus weren't the only things he shared with his enemies.

Vengeance was a custom as old as Tetsu no Kuni itself. It was their way.

Revealing that she was a shinobi prompted a slight nod from the swordsmith. "Genin?" If he remembered correctly from what Suppa had told him, those were usually junior ninja. "Was?" He asked. "You're not one anymore?" Perhaps the lifestyle had been too much for her? Understandable, really. Being a child soldier didn't sound that appealing to him either. Even though he himself had aspired to become a kosho as a child. "Mhm..." A doubtful sound escaped his throat as Mika claimed she was a full-time ghoul. Though not one for laughing, the joke wasn't lost on him. "Kota thinks you're doing a good job." Very nearly a faint smirk crossed his face. But his own question given back to him gave him pause. What about him? Muramasa let his dark eyes drift downward to the wet ground.

So much to say... and yet he still had to be cautious. "I know a bit of swordplay." He said, turning his gaze to the woman once more. "Samurai patrons of my family taught me some as a kid... enough to get by." It was the truth. Perceptive as she was, Mika was bound to notice a trace of something in his voice as he mentioned the word 'samurai'. Disdain. Or sadness maybe. Either way he looked ahead, pausing for a moment too long as he thought back to those times. "I like to stay far away from any fighting." Hints of truth mixed with enough vagueness so as not to reveal vital information. Typical careful Muramasa. "And yourself?" Finally he asked, glancing at her from the side. "You mentioned using swords once... what about now?" Another skill to replace it? Or total abandonment?

It seemed the two of them were feeling each other out. Poking and prodding where they could to coax out traces of something real. Intuition told him she was holding something back... "Smart." He thought. "It's what I do."


Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 28, 2023 3:48:54 GMT -5
Mikazuki Aikawa
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
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Mikazuki Aikawa Avatar
groupRain Shinobi
age 23 years old birthday March 3rd rank Chuunin occupation



you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you


"Nope, not anymore," the woman answered. Or, at least, so was her story. "No different than a civilian, as it were." She didn't think she was old enough nor had any of the qualifications to technically be a retired shinobi, so she was just... a dropout. Not some legend or hero who did anything great to serve her nation before she was no longer suited for the job and had to step back, she just... quit one day. As far as anyone knew.
    And it would be a fair enough thing to say.
    Nobody was forced into the job--despite any social acceptance and praise there might have been around the occupation. In a hidden village, it was commonplace for someone to be a shinobi--but during these times, nobody was exactly forced into it.
    And while Muramasa had not lived here his whole life, and he had not known Mikazuki up until this day, there were other who knew.
    She'd always been distant. A recluse. None of that was new--but it wasn't like she lived solely in the shadows, back in those days. She'd been a genin, she could be found in the training grounds often enough when she wasn't training directly under Red or Azami. When she was assigned to a genin squad, then she'd interacted enough times with her sensei and teammates at the time. Going on missions, helping around the village, interacting with academy students and the like. Then, there were the times she'd attended the Chūnin Exams. And even if she hadn't been hidden from the public eye--she'd always had a way. Her mannerisms, her appearance, her personality--it had always been consistent through the years.
    Until one day, when everything changed.
    It would have been easy to think she snapped.
    Dark circles under her eyes; restless. Haunted. She'd been lost, her convictions uncertain. Weary.
    Something had happened, and a year later she resigned. She rarely showed her face around the village, anymore. Not to train, not for anything. She'd all but disappeared.
    Really, the chances that she'd have met Muramasa as herself was... slim.
    It was incredible, actually.
    "Good, good," Mikazuki returned with a smirk when Muramasa spoke on the child's behalf. Kota wasn't the first child who was frightened by her reputation, and he likely wouldn't be the last. She had a bad track record of scaring children--even if she didn't necessarily try to. So, when she wanted to be intimidating, it usually came with ease. "He'd be smart to stay weary." Even if she didn't have any intention to do them harm, it was always good to stay on one's toes. Especially when in a new environment, around strangers. They could trust her, but that didn't mean they should.
    Even if she didn't do anything to harm them, she was undeniably dangerous.
    And she would not scold them for being cautious.
    If anything, the opposite was true.
    When Muramasa answered her question, she found herself only more curious by his statements. So, he had some training in swordfighting. By the sound of it, he was no master of the trade--likely only knew a few tricks taught to him by the samurai he mentioned... but it was curious. He wasn't trained up to be a samurai--not brought up in a dojo, or taught by his parents, by the sound of it. Patrons, instead, taught him the skills. And from his tone, it hardly sounded like there was fond association with it. Interesting. No, he certainly wasn't a warrior of the blade.
    That could be told almost immediately by his demeanor and disposition toward the subject.
    "What about smithing, then? Do you enjoy that?"
    Normally, she didn't care about things like this. In fact, she'd only initially asked to get him off of her back and to stop pestering her with all of his own questions. Really, peoples' pasts and interests were of no concern or curiosity of her own. She didn't care about peoples' hobbies, their lovers, their families, or their favorite season. In formal or professional settings, those pieces of information weren't relevant--so there was no reason to inquire. And even if she wasn't publicly a shinobi, anymore, it was difficult for her to hide her old habits--interrogation always had an ulterior motive.
    What were his intentions inside of the village? Was the boy he traveled with truly safe under his care? Was there something suspicious transpiring that she needed to intervene? Could he aid Amegakure by offering his services? What were his skills? Did he have any conviction--did he truly know what he was getting himself into?
    Everything was, even if seemingly unapparent, professional. Even when she'd been digging at his history and background--it was hardly out of any personal interest. She didn't care about his tragic backstory, or whatever the misfortunate history of the boy had been, either. She didn't care what their goals were outside of their business in Amegakure, either.
    She'd not even asked their names.
    And that was her way--something she had difficulty changing even when she wasn't on a job or mission. She could act, and pretend, and put on a performance--but when she was being her genuine, authentic self... she had grown to accept that she could not change who she really was. Even if it was an impersonal robot who only cared about missions or something like that.
    But this was... different. A rare moment, really. Nothing significant, nothing really important. But curious, nonetheless.
    If he wasn't a swordsman... then... at heart--what was he?
    He made a question, himself. One that Mikazuki did not necessarily mind answering... though one she wasn't entirely certain on how to answer, either. She could understand him, in a way--she hadn't been prone to fighting, either. When she had been a genin, she'd always been slow to a fight and quick to execution--ending battles before they could begin, or not starting them at all. She hadn't the skills or strength to really last in a long-winded fight, especially not when she was at such a disadvantage opposed to most of the other shinobi in her rank. So, it was better to strike quickly, or to avoid fighting altogether.
    Something that had been challenged as she'd gotten stronger.
    But she wasn't necessarily opposed to violence, she supposed. It didn't leave a sinking feeling in her gut. She felt no real remorse or sorrow for her actions, and neither did she particularly fear for her life.
    If anything, she'd craved death more than anything.
    There was no fear. No anxiety. But no joy or pleasure, either. It was simply... a profession. One that she took seriously--and strategized to best assist her village, in hopes that her efforts would pay off and less lives and bloodshed had to be spent. But that cost was still a reality, and she couldn't have a broken heart over every cruelty she faced. It was the way of this world. She had grown to accept it, even if she did not love it.
    Even if she did try to change it.
    But where did that leave her? She wasn't afraid of a fight. In truth, something had changed in her--and she was far more prone to violence than she'd ever been, before. But did she... enjoy it?
    She didn't think so. That still hadn't seemed to change, yet...
    Perhaps... I enjoy seeing the change. I suppose I feel... empowered. Confident. Capable. Something I'd never felt, before. Being challenged, or posed with opportunities to test myself... I think that's all it is. That's what I enjoy. She frowned, slightly. If all I live for is to be a weapon, then I suppose it would make sense I only feel my existence is justified in the battlefield. "I don't know," she answered truthfully after some thought. "You and I come from different worlds. Fighting is all I've ever known." Whether fighting for her first breaths, fighting to be loved or accepted by her mother... knowing the only way she'd justify her existence in her parents' eyes was if she could become a ninja--and fighting tooth and nail to accomplish the impossible. Failing every time. Her father dying in combat. Her brother being killed on a mission. Then, when Red and Azami took her in and started her training... that had been nothing but fighting, too. Learning of all the horrors of the world, being trained to handle extreme circumstances...
    Then, she was a genin.
    Then a jinchūriki.
    Then a Chūnin.
    She had to fight in the exams in Amegakure. In Kaze no Kuni. On the border between Arashi no Kuni and Hi no Kuni. Fighting on missions. Friends suffering through war or the victims of murder.
    Violence. Death. Suffering. Pain. War. Fighting.
    It was all she knew. All she had ever known, likely all she ever would know. "So, I suppose you grow comfortable in something so familiar." Not fond. But not frightened, either. It was the only way she knew how to put it. As for what she did now? "Nothing." Mikazuki shrugged. "In truth, I wasn't good at anything. I knew how to wave a sword around a little, but... so what." Sanosuke had a unique and powerful weapon, even when they were genin. Because he specialized in bukijutsu. "I was trained to be a martyr. I didn't have any talent for anything else." Couldn't even do that. The young woman stopped when the house was back within their line of sight. She stretched her arms, slightly, sighing a bit. "Now, I'm just a ghost. I exist. That's about it."





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Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 29, 2023 3:48:48 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
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groupWandering-Nin
age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


tears from the heavens

All he could do was let out a slight "Hm..." at her response. Thoughts compounding the more he listened. It was interesting to say the least. The idea of a shinobi just up and quitting. Made him wonder.

Growing up outside of the Shinobi System had its benefits, but it also precluded him from a lot of knowledge on Hidden Villages. The most he had to go off of was what little he learned from others. Or what Suppa had told him... though the man wasn't the most reliable or reputable source of information. It had been decades since the old lout was a Takigakure shinobi. Things had surely changed since then. So retirement was news to him.

Trying not to stare overlong, Muramasa noted the minutiae of the woman's facial expression. Thinking likely. Just like he was. When she smirked he gave his own weak one in response. Hers was nicer. "He's a sharp kid." He said, mind turning to Kota. Much quicker on the uptake than he was at that age. No by then he was all loud mouth and foolish dreams. A few years later and that bravado turned to unyielding fury. "He can't end up like that..." Anything but. Sure the world was dangerous and full of grief, but there were nicer things too. Things Kota could enjoy.

It was too late for himself but it didn't have to be for the boy. One halfway decent deed. It wouldn't balance the scales after he did what he had to... though if he could help in any way, that was good enough for him.

A nod was offered at her question about smithing. "I do." Despite his mostly neutral face, his tone was sincere. The wanderer wasn't the type to jump for joy about things, but creation was cathartic. "I enjoy art of all kinds, really." It was one of the few things that brought him solace. Forging a new blade, drafting in his journal, woodworking— he found it easier to express himself in these ways then aloud. Appreciating someone else's art was about as close as he ever came to connecting with someone else on a human level, too. "Do you like what you do?" Posing the query back at her he left it intentionally vague. Her skillful evasion of his original question with humor didn't slip past... though he admired her speech-craft. It was still unclear as to what she actually did. Aside from scaring kids, that is.

Muramasa continued to listen, turning his gaze towards the woman once more as she responded. Incongruous lives. Different worlds. "That we do." He reaffirmed her quietly. Up until he was ten he was fortunate enough to have avoided the horrors of the world. When faced with the ugly truth he fled. Or was forced to rather. Since then though he had known little else but turmoil... but that was a story for a different time. Mulling over the way in which she spoke he couldn't help but feel as if he was being treated to something rare. A genuine glimpse at her feelings on a given subject. Even if it was small. By her own words she felt at home in the midst of fighting. Conflict. "If strife is all you know, it keeps you company whether you like it or not." Averting his eyes he stared forward as they walked. Gaze becoming a little more distant. Ambiguous as his response was, he understood.

For him, it was being alone. Losing his father, leaving his family, losing Hana, leaving Suppa. Sure he'd found a select few friends along the way but only one person in recent memory that truly knew him. The real him. In the end he always ended up by himself. And... that was okay. Comforting in its own way, even. Familiar.

On his own was how he needed to be. For his own sake as well as others around him. The swordsmith was headed for a dark place... and no one else need follow him there. It was a path for the wrathful. Vengeful spirits. Ghosts.

Speaking on her abilities garnered another nod from the wanderer. A master of none. It was a concept he knew, his artistic skills being much the same. Mikazuki claimed to be a ghost. He stopped as she did. "I know the feeling." More than was apparent. Glancing to the woman for a moment he turned his eyes towards the house in the distance. "Ghosts can go where others can't." Determination entered his gaze. Life. Just briefly, but it was there.

Doing his best to not let his thoughts consume him he took a few steps forward. Pausing for a moment he glanced over his shoulder, hands still full with the bags. "Could you help me get these inside?" Almost there now. The trip had been an interesting one thus far. Revealing, yet obfuscating. A thoroughly intriguing game. After this whole thing it would be a shame for it to end without enacting his final strategy. With any luck, she might oblige.


last edit by Muramasa Uemon on Mar 29, 2023 23:47:55 GMT -5
Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 29, 2023 5:08:57 GMT -5
Mikazuki Aikawa
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
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groupRain Shinobi
age 23 years old birthday March 3rd rank Chuunin occupation



you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you


Mikazuki nodded, slightly, when Muramasa spoke of the boy. She could imagine. And she knew well as any that intelligence came in many different forms. She couldn't begin to guess every bit of information the child stored in his mind, but one thing was certain. He'd been on his own for much longer than a child ought to be, and despite the harshness of the world and how hostile it could be to someone so small and defenseless...
    He'd survived.
    And, considering every odd that was stacked against him--that was an impressive feat. She certainly couldn't have done it; not at his age, anyway.
    So there would be no argument, there. Even if she didn't know the boy very well at all--Muramasa probably had good justification for his assessment, and with what little she knew of them she figured it was reliable information.
    Mikazuki listened further as Muramasa confirmed that he did enjoy the trade--which was fortunate, if nothing else. Ideally, one should enjoy whatever work they found for themselves. Even if it could be tiring or difficult, at times, people were drawn to different things, and they thrived best when their heart went into their craft. Whatever that may be. Muramasa seemed to be an artist. A craftsman. Forging a weapon was easily recognizable as an artform in Mikazuki's eyes--the woman held much admiration and appreciation for the craftsmanship of most blades, as it were. But even further than that, it seemed, for him.
    It was admirable, in a way.
    Mikazuki couldn't bring herself to identify with it at all--she knew how to play music, and she had decent skills with watercolor and ink painting. But she knew artists were a different beast entirely.
    Tabi had been like that, she'd thought. The other jinchūriki had shared her talents--gifts of creation. Whether sending snacks that she'd baked, or a poem born from the creativity of her soul. The act of making. The beauty in it all. The heart, and soul.
    Something she could not produce, herself.
    But it was nice to stand in the presence of one who was capable of such things.
    "Ah, so an artist, then," the woman would speak softly. Engaging so that he knew she was listening, still, as the two otherwise were growing more quiet in their conversation. Not a bad thing, necessarily, but a natural course of things considering their personalities. And, the young man turned it back on her--did she like what she did?
    With all of the accounts of you resenting your status...
    My beliefs remain the same, she countered. "I would have it no other way." Perhaps she did not like how things were, necessarily, but she would not have chosen differently if she could go back in time. It was the closest she could probably ever come to enjoyment. She could have been peacefully in her grave by now, and that would have been nice. Ideal, even. What she wanted. But, at the end of the day, she chose her village. Just as she always did. Putting her personal feelings aside for what she felt she had to do... and with all the suffering and misery that was being a jinchūriki; she would not willingly subject anyone else to that kind of pain. And, if her bearing the burden and turmoil of the position spared someone else that agony--if subjecting herself to this unique form of torture meant that she could keep her village safe.
    Then she was glad to do so.
    It was the only way she could put it.
    As a jinchūriki, her fate was sealed, and she would die in one of three ways. Either she would die in combat and be killed while protecting her village, the seal would be undone and her body would be ripped to shreds by Gyūki, or she would be executed by her village. She had full control over which end she would meet, and so long as she had the autonomy of her fate within her own hands--she was content.
    And, considering the hand in life that she had been dealt, that was the closest she could probably ever get to "liking what she did". Taking pride with the path she took, and gladly committing to that road.
    The conversation shifted, once more, as Muramasa gave his own insight on her words.
    Ghosts can go where others can't.
    Perhaps an insight on his own self-perceptions. Quiet, unknown, and with freedom. That seemed to be how he suited the role.
    "Ghosts aren't seen. They're forgotten. And if they're remembered or witnessed: they're feared." How she liked to be, best. She'd glance at Muramasa when he made the request. Odd. Suspicious, even. She... somewhat doubted he'd actually need help--he'd managed to carry everything just fine this far, and it wasn't like he couldn't set them down for a moment on the porch to open the door, or something. "Sure." She'd take the bag of groceries from him--figuring it would be better if he dealt with the clothes and the kid. If nothing else, she supposed she could unpack the groceries and help put them away. What am I, your wife now? she thought to herself, frowning slightly as she'd head inside.




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Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 29, 2023 23:46:54 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
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groupWandering-Nin
age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


i long to feel your presence

More quiet, more thinking. In most cases he actually preferred a bit of abstraction in conversations. Made things less personal... left less opportunities to reveal something on accident. So he was fine filling in the blanks for now.

All that being said the woman was most certainly an interesting one. It seemed that for every answer she gave another question spawned. Muramasa was a curious person. Always had been. Fortunately he'd also outgrown the impatience that plagued him as a child. If he stuck around long enough to learn more? Great. If not, well...

...sometimes, not knowing was fine too.

Departing from his nodding the wanderer shook his head as she called him an artist. "I wouldn't go that far." It was perhaps technically true, but he didn't consider himself one. However qualified his skill in forging made him. Smithing was the only thing he considered himself truly skilled in. Shamisen, drawing, poetry... everything else he just dabbled. A master of none. Looking to Mikazuki he continued on. "I just... appreciate beauty, I guess." Gaze lingering perhaps a moment too long he turned his eyes away. An art appreciator. Yeah... that was more like it.

The woman seemed steadfast in her choices. All he could do was nod in response. Whatever it was that she actually did she was comfortable with. As to what that was he could only guess. Questions for a later time. Talk of ghosts kept the gears in his mind turning. "Silent. Forgotten." He repeated her words internally. "Feared." It made sense. A lot of sense, actually. So much so that the beginnings of an idea were starting to form... but he'd time to think more on that later. As Mikazuki grabbed the bag of groceries from his hands he nodded towards her. "Thanks." Truthfully his arms were starting to get a little tired. But of course his real reasoning for asking was unrelated.

Following behind her he entered the house, removing his hood and boots once more. Quiet as he could, he closed the front door and moved towards the guest room. Pausing for a moment to listen for any sound within. Slowly he opened the door and peeked in to check on him. If he was out, he'd simply set down the bag and leave him to his nap. Making sure to also unstrap his own thigh holster and hip pouch as well to leave behind. Raincoat, too. If he was awake, he'd tell him about the fresh clothes and that food should be ready soon. It was time to get to work.

Making his way to the kitchen he'd see Mika helping to unpack the groceries. "And she swears she isn't nice..." Careful not to get in her way he grabbed what he needed from the supplies. It was a simple enough meal, so the prep would be minimal. Steep the kombu in some water, cook some rice, roll some dough. "Pots?" He'd ask the woman, searching the kitchen for cookware. With her help he hoped to find three, and to start preparing both the dashi and rice while setting a third to boil. A lot of the utensils seemed relatively unused. He also spotted the measly excuse for a food supply that the woman kept for herself. "Hm..." Muramasa rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt and washed his hands. After drying he carefully poured flour into a medium-sized bowl and salted the water that was heating. Grabbing a kitchen knife he squinted at the blade before blowing some loose dust from its surface. Twirling it in his fingers he offered it to the woman handle-first. "Care to put those sword skills to use?" He asked, gesturing to the cabbage, scallions, and mushrooms with his head. An extra pair of hands would be invaluable.

Besides she was already here... it'd be a shame to waste her talents.

Gently he poured some of the near-boiling water into the flour, just enough to form a dry dough. Transferring it to one of the counters he began kneading, glancing to Mikazuki as he did. "You don't cook much do you?"


Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 31, 2023 1:58:14 GMT -5
Mikazuki Aikawa
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
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groupRain Shinobi
age 23 years old birthday March 3rd rank Chuunin occupation



you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you


Not quite an artist, he corrected. Merely someone who appreciated beauty. Mikazuki shrugged. Fair enough. Another difference between them, perhaps. But not necessarily a bad one. I wish I could find more enjoyment in this life. Something she couldn't help or change, but she was appreciative of that difference. He was human, after all. And it was a fair trait to have.
    When they arrived back at the house, Mikazuki slipped inside and took off her shoes once more before heading into the kitchen to unload the grocery bags. She wasn't entirely sure what he intended to use immediately--if he planned to use all of it, even. And if there would be a certain way he wanted the groceries stored and organized... well, he'd have to re-arrange on his own time, she supposed. The young man would return to the kitchen shortly enough after his visit to the guest room, and he'd begin the process of making dinner. Asking a couple of questions about where to locate certain wares, which Mikazuki would silently point out their homes for him to locate each. She considered, for a moment, parting ways in that instance. While things might run smoother with her there to guide and aid, he seemed perfectly capable of handling things on his own. It wouldn't be that difficult for him to find things even if it took a little while of searching--there weren't many places where they could be hidden, to be fair.
    She would hesitate, again, when Muramasa handed the kitchen knife for her to take--an invitation to join in the process, and a near-silent request for her to stay.
    It would probably be odd if I helped him make dinner, and then left as soon as we were done, right? Was he... hoping for her to stay? It was her own house--perhaps it was appropriate that she join the guests for a meal, but...
    Everything about it seemed wrong.
    I can't use an excuse of not trusting it, because I'd be here every step of the way so I know it wouldn't be poisoned or anything... though, she doubted that he really had any motivations to do her harm and the chances he was actually a spy or enemy shinobi were slim, she was always the cautious type. But... something like this. Her gaze stilled, for a moment, freezing as she'd look at the young man uncertainly. It was a strange thing--entirely foreign to her, really. It was rare that she ever shared a meal with anyone else, to begin with, let alone in the setting of her residency... it felt... far too intimate, she thought. It's not like he's my husband or anything. The young woman would turn her attention briefly as the child stepped out from the guest room to approach--seemingly interested in observing whatever was going on. It's not like we're a family.
    If she agreed to help, she'd feel pressured to join them, even if Muramasa never said anything or asked. She had no idea how to approach the situation she'd found herself in, so...
    She declined.
    "Fighting with a sword is hardly the same thing," the woman would speak quietly, retrieving her hand without taking the knife from him. It wouldn't be difficult to chop up vegetables at all, but it still seemed like a weak comparison. Mikazuki tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned away. "Besides, I... prefer being alone." She'd step away. "I'm sure I'll see you around later, though."





583 words

MADE BY ★MEULK
Mika has written 1,145 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Mar 31, 2023 2:28:53 GMT -5
Kota
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
quote
Kota Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 10 years old birthday April 8 rank occupation




  Feels like We had

        matching wounds But

mine's still black and bruised

     And yours is perfectly

              fine





Muramasa's hopes that Kota would end up falling asleep while he had stepped out to run errands had come to fruition. As much as the boy would regularly have preferred to explore the new environment, or perhaps even play around with the elder wanderer's gear that had been left behind (the puppets were quite interesting to him, as it were), he still felt quite out of it. Better than he had a day prior--by a significant margin--but still exhausted.
    And, eventually, in the peace of the bedroom--even if he was still tense and anxious--he gave in quickly enough to the temptation to sleep.
    Not quite in the way Muramasa might have hoped, but sleep nonetheless. Instead of napping on the futon as he'd been instructed--when Kota began to feel himself growing more and more weary, he grabbed the blankets and stole them away, bringing them into the closet where he made a sort of nest for himself and curled up on the floor, safely tucked away and hidden out of sight.
    Burrowing, or finding somewhere safe to hide before lowering his guard in sleep had become a habit of his ever since he was on his own. Digging holes or making forts with speared sticks and twigs to help shield himself while he slept, or even--dangerously--finding abandoned furniture in forsaken houses and sleeping inside of a trunk.
    He'd rest for some time before the slight sound of the bedroom door opening stirred him from his slumber--and the boy lifted his head to carefully slide open the closet door and peek out to see, thankfully, it was only Muramasa who had returned. He gave a sigh of relief. I knew he'd be back since he left all his stuff here, he reasoned. But I'm glad he didn't get killed.
    The boy crawled out from the hiding place to see the new clothing presented to him, and his eyes widened as a look of surprise overtook him.
    New clothes? Really? He was hesitant at first--wanting to argue, still, that there was nothing wrong with the clothes that he already had, and that it wasn't reasonable to have a lot of belongings if they were always going to be on the run. It was why, in fact, Kota only had the clothes on his own back--he'd long since abandoned anything that hadn't been absolutely necessary.
    But the fabric felt nice in his hands--durable, but soft in comparison to the rough and aged fabric of his own clothes.
    Smells nice, too, the boy thought, holding the clothing to his face as he quietly inspected the gift with his various senses. He looked up from where he was seated on the floor to watch Muramasa set down the last of his things--unpacking some holsters, and offering a promise of food. Ah--food~ Kota's expression warmed at the mere thought. The boy looked away, a slight smile on his face. Content, if a bit dazed from having just woken up. Why is Muramasa getting all these nice things for me? It's not even my birthday...
    Still... even if the child didn't have any interest or intention of getting rid of the clothes that he already had--it was a very nice gift. And he would be lying if he said he didn't want to know what it felt like to wear them.
    So, the boy would change his clothing soon enough. Taking his old clothes and hiding them in the closet under the blankets, and struggling a bit with the new ones, as they were styled in a way he was entirely unfamiliar with. He'd never seen buttons or zippers before in his life, and without a shirt that opened in the front, he didn't know he'd put the new one on backwards. But he was clothed--most importantly--and it was... nice. He'd not tried on the raincoat--since it wasn't raining indoors, and he was already much drier in the new clothing--but it felt good against his skin. There weren't any rips or tears or holes, the seams and ends weren't frayed and falling apart, and it just felt. Comfortable. And nice.
    Bashfully, Kota would slip out of the guest room and poke his head around the corner to see the two adults in the kitchen. Not wanting to interrupt in whatever they were talking about, but also wishing to team up with Muramasa again--as well as, probably, getting some help with one of the buttons on his pants since he didn't really know what to do, there.
Mika has written 105 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Apr 1, 2023 3:21:47 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
quote
Muramasa Uemon Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


but it never came

And so, his grand scheme was halted in its tracks.

Truly he could not fault the woman. She made it clear earlier that she wanted herself and the wanderers to mind their own business. It was only the few glimpses of something more that made him consider it. "I get it." Slowly he flipped the knife back around before setting it on the counter. Maybe another time. Or maybe not at all.

If there was anyone who understood the comfort of being alone, it was him.

Still kneading his hands remained busy, only a few minutes remaining until it was ready to rest. Mikazuki said that she would see them around and he nodded. "If you ever change your mind we'll be here." The wanderer spoke softly, looking up from his work for just a moment. There would be more opportunities. Perhaps he'd even cook a meal that wasn't so utilitarian at some point. "I have a feeling I'll be cooking a lot." With a nod he returned to his efforts. Though simple, he still wanted the meal to taste good. It was all in the details. Preparation, seasoning, garnish. With some luck it'd do them better than fire-roasted rabbit. Or jerky. "Maybe..." An idea came to mind.

Another plan. One for tomorrow. "Aikawa." Calling out to her a final time his steely eyes fell upon her face. "...thanks, again." Shelter for a favor. An exchange, but it was still kind. Gratitude was the least he could show.

Before long they were joined by Kota all dressed in his new clothes. "Hey, kid." It took only a moment for him to spot his drooping pants. The wanderer tilted his head. "Here." He said, wiping his hands with a hand towel before walking over and crouching down. "Like this." Slowly he helped him to button his pants, making sure to show him how it was done. As a native of Testu no Kuni he could sympathize. Garb there was a far cry from modern, and he remembered a similar adjustment once he departed. "Do they fit alright?" If anything they'd be a bit big, but that wasn't the worst thing. Surely he still had much growing to do. Looking the boy over he took note of his backwards shirt. "Other way." He said, raising a finger to tap at his own shirt. Some getting used to was normal. Especially considering the rags that he usually wore. Hopefully these would last him a while.

Rising to his full height he turned his gaze back to the food. There was still quite a bit to do. Mika declining didn't change that a second pair of hands would be useful. Even if they were small. "Wanna help?" He asked the boy, raising one eyebrow slightly. Something hard to mess up. Beckoning him over with a hand he gestured to the ball of dough. "Knead it. Like so." Both hands demonstrated plying the small ball. For a kid, it might even be fun. Like playing with putty or something. "Do that for about five minutes." He said with a nod before turning the chore over to him. Wiping his hands again with the towel he turned his attention back to the knife. Vegetables next.


Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Apr 1, 2023 4:31:12 GMT -5
Kota
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
quote
Kota Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 10 years old birthday April 8 rank occupation





  Feels like We had

        matching wounds But

mine's still black and bruised

     And yours is perfectly

              fine





Mikazuki would pause for a moment to look at Muramasa as he spoke his thanks. She nodded in response, acknowledging his appreciation, before making her exit. Sliding open the back door leading out from the living room, she'd close it behind herself and disappeared from sight.
    Kota, on the other hand, watched attentively as the older wanderer helped him with buttoning his new clothing, and the boy gave him an appreciative look. A bit bashful and embarrassed to have struggled, but thankful that Muramasa didn't seem to mind showing him the new skill. Kota's clothing had always used strings and ties, so he was good with bows and knots, but thankfully even if the new article of clothing was foreign in design, it didn't seem too difficult to learn. "I see, I see," Kota spoke quietly. He looked up at the older male and nodded at the question. "Mhm!" At least, as far as he was concerned, they fit well.
    He'd been wearing the same clothes for the past two years, truthfully, and these ones weren't tight or too small or uncomfortable at all--so the fact that they were quite a bit baggy on his small form didn't bother him in the slightest or register as something negative to begin with.
    Though, a redness would display on his cheeks when Muramasa pointed to his own shirt, correcting that the child's had been facing the wrong way. "Ohp." He pulled his arms inside of his shirt and tugged at the fabric from the inside to twist it around, turning slightly in place as he fixed his top. How could he tell it was the wrong way? Kota trusted Muramasa, of course, but he was nonetheless bewildered at the older male's intelligence. When the offer to help was made, Kota's expression lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah!" the boy answered.
    And, soon enough, the child had climbed his way up to sit atop the counter, watching intently at Muramasa's instruction on kneading the... whatever that stuff was. Kota was pretty sure he'd never seen anything like it, before, and when he took the bowl for himself to knead the substance with his hands, the boy stared at the dough with wonder and amazement. Whoah, I've never felt anything like this before, he thought to himself as he worked it with his hands. Squishing the dough with his fingers tentatively before rolling it in his palms, bewildered. It's soft but it's not like fur or moss, and it's so squishy.
    "I like this stuff," Kota announced. As he continued to work his part, the boy lightly kicked his legs off the side of the counter as his mind began to wander a bit. "Hey, Muramasa... uhmm..." Man, even if it was only in the beginning stages of preparation, the food was starting to smell good. "Why did'ja get me these new clothes?" He'd look at the man curiously, his expression sincere and coy. It was really nice, but unexpected--and not something the boy fully understood. "It's not, like, my birthday or somethin', y'know? So... why?"
    Usually gifts were for rare, special occasions. Weren't they?
Mika has written 105 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Apr 1, 2023 20:49:06 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
quote
Muramasa Uemon Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


spring broods many rains

A nod followed the boy's confirmation that his clothes fit. "Good."

Close enough, at least. Baggy was good. And given Kota's penchant for squirreling things away he was sure he'd appreciate the extra space. As he grabbed the assorted vegetables and began to wash them he glanced over to the child. Red in the face about his shirt. "The neckline's lower when it's the right way around." He explained, gesturing to his own shirt's round cut. Muramasa supposed that he'd have to get used to detailing things for the meantime.

'Why' instead of just 'how'. Thinking back to his master, Hana, he remembered that she always did that with him. Never spoke to him like he was dumb. Though she wasn't nearly as gentle in her teaching. "It's kind of fun, huh?" A rhetorical question as he watched the boy take to kneading with gusto. It was nice to be around someone who could take joy in the little things. "I haven't made this in a long time, but with some luck it'll taste good too." An old but classic recipe. One he was taught how to prepare long ago. Hana's doing. But her cooking was a bit too... pragmatic.

Never one for seasoning or garnish, that woman. A soldier through and through.

At the boy's questions he raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his chopping to think. "Well... because you needed new clothes." A rather simple answer. He could do better. "Those old ones were worn out and too small." Pausing for another moment he finished mincing the cabbage, before moving onto the scallions. Truly he wasn't sure of Kota's knowledge of the world. So he did his best. "It doesn't have to be a special day to buy things that you need."

Maybe it was a different question altogether... as in, 'why would he do something nice for him'. But for now he would finish his mincing and move to check on the rice. Giving the child time to inquire further.

Suddenly, a question occurred to him. "...when is your birthday, anyway?" For the future. Just in case.


Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Apr 4, 2023 4:28:04 GMT -5
Kota
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
quote
Kota Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 10 years old birthday April 8 rank occupation




  Feels like We had

        matching wounds But

mine's still black and bruised

     And yours is perfectly

              fine





Kota nodded a little after listening to Muramasa's explanation on how to discern the difference between the front and back of the shirt. It seemed like a subtle difference to the boy, but he was a quick learner, and he wasn't worried about being able to remember the detail for the future. Not that he really took his clothes off much for anything, but if he ever needed to put the shirt back on again, he'd know how to do so better. Hopefully.
    "Yeah, it sure is!" Kota responded to Muramasa's rhetoric gleefully. Even though the man expressed his doubts, Kota was certain that whatever he was making was going to be really tasty. Of course, the boy was used to roughing it. Home-cooked meals weren't really... something he'd ever had, before. The closest he'd come to it was when strangers bought him meals from restaurants out of pity, but even with how delicious that food had been, the experience was entirely different than this. And Kota was willing to eat almost anything, because even scorched rabbit feet or boiled frogs tasted better than an empty stomach. "It smells real good," he complimented.
    He really just wanted to start eating, now. The raw ingredients would be so easy to just pop into his mouth...
    But no, he had to knead. He was given a task to do--so he had to focus on that. He didn't want to let Muramasa down.
    Though, the boy's work slowed when Muramasa provided an answer in regards to the clothing he'd gotten for him. Worn out and too small... Probably. He didn't want to argue, but he hadn't really minded. Really, he'd not even noticed there was anything wrong with his clothes. Certainly not until he'd put on the new ones, at least, when the difference was so suddenly stark and apparent. 
    And the reassurance that it didn't need to be a special day to get something he needed left Kota... feeling odd inside. A kind of happy feeling, but a sad one, too. Something that twisted in his gut and made his chest hurt, and he didn't fully understand why or what the feelings were. Too complex to identify. "Well, I really like the clothes," Kota thanked indirectly, in his own way. When asked about his birthday, Kota answered simply, "April Eight!"
    That was how he remembered it when his father had told him, at least.
    Months were mostly lost on him, since he didn't have a calendar and hadn't been taught how to keep track as well as his father had done in the past. His dad always seemed to know everything, but he wasn't exactly around anymore, so Kota was left only with the knowledge of various changing seasons, only aware of the passing of time whenever they shifted from one to another.
    "Haven't hadda birthday in like two years, though," Kota added bitterly. "Whaddabout you? When's yor birthday, Muramasa?"
last edit by Kota on Apr 4, 2023 4:28:55 GMT -5
Mika has written 105 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Apr 5, 2023 21:13:40 GMT -5
Muramasa Uemon
By any means.
quote
Muramasa Uemon Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 20 years old birthday July 21st rank B-Rank occupation Vagabond


left behind, the winter's chill

By now, the rice was finished cooking. Nearly fluffy. Could have used a bit more water... but it was fine. Using a spoon he skimmed the top of the kombu that had been simmering. The dashi was done as well. One step closer.

Nodding as the boy spoke he retrieved both the wakame and tofu he'd bought. "That's a good sign." He said to the child about the scent. Dicing the block of soy into bite-sized pieces with the knife he continued on. "It's an old recipe from back home... my father used to tell me we learned it from another country and made it better." Memories of dinners with his family as a child played in his head. Laughter. Smiles. The comforts of home. All foreign to him by this point. "If we make it right, I think you'll like it." Something deep down had been poking at him. Trying to tell him something. Perhaps cooking here like this with Kota was dredging those old emotions up. Either that, or his training was trying to warn him of the dangers of familiarity. Whatever the case, he shook it off.

Life was hard enough already... he could allow himself a small reprieve. As long as he didn't become careless.

Setting the tofu aside, he grabbed a spoon and the container of miso. Removing the kombu carefully from the pot he dropped a few spoonfuls of the substance into the dashi and mixed it well. "I'm glad you like them." He said to the boy. "Next time you can pick out your own." An exciting prospect he hoped. Never got to choose his own clothing as a kid. But then, they weren't well-off. All practical cloth yukata and zori for him and his siblings. Upon hearing the boy's birthday he paused for a moment, reaching for the journal in his back pocket to flip to a calendar that he kept up with. "That's... coming up quick." Gods. Birthday parties? What was he supposed to do for those? "Sweets, toys... music?" Muramasa closed his eyes as his expression stretched thin. More planning to do. Hearing him say that he hadn't had a birthday in two years gave the swordsmith pause. Celebration wasn't a luxury oft afforded to wanderers like them. Survival took priority. "Hm..." A hand raised to his mouth in thought.

Certainly he'd have to think up something. The boy asked him his own birthday. "Mine's in July, the twenty-first." It had been eight years since his last, but those kinds of things meant little to him now. To a child though, he understood the importance. "How old are you turning?" Another question as he placed the tofu chunks some into the near bubbling broth. Then the wakame and scallions. Moving over to where Kota was he motioned for him to stop kneading, and then cut the dough in two with the knife. "Roll it out lengthwise like this." He demonstrated with one of the halves, shaping it into a sort of log. "Then, we let it sit." Now, he had to get the filling together.

A pungent aroma of miso had permeated the air. To the hungry it likely smelled great. But there was still a ways to go yet. Nodding at the boy's work he smirked slightly. "Good job, kid." Not a bad sous chef. Not at all.


Yenga has written 667 posts
Ame-onna [Mika]Apr 11, 2023 4:56:37 GMT -5
Kota
Nindo Goes Here: Edit Profile > Personal > Most Recent Status
quote
Kota Avatar
groupWandering-Nin
age 10 years old birthday April 8 rank occupation





  Feels like We had

        matching wounds But

mine's still black and bruised

     And yours is perfectly

              fine





The more time that passed, the more the child's anticipation began to build, and he tried not to wiggle too much in his excitement. He was used to having to be patient when it came to meals--out in the wild, food was not guaranteed, and meat had to be prepared properly or it could lead to poisoning. But, still, it was undeniable that Kota was hungry--and after time to rest and recover after the medical shinobi had patched up his injuries, he'd built up a pretty big appetite.
    "Yeah?" Kota asked rhetorically when Muramasa carried on the conversation a bit, giving some insight on how he'd picked up the recipe. Seemed to have some fond familial connections for him, and the child had no doubt it was going to taste pretty good. Though, he wouldn't have been difficult to please to begin with.
    Kota watched briefly as Muramasa continued to prepare and cook the meal, and he cocked his head to one side slightly at the sentiment of choosing his clothing for himself the next time around. He couldn't recall if he'd ever chosen his clothing, himself, before. He almost couldn't remember having more clothes than just the one set he traveled with, and he'd had those ones for so long he couldn't remember if it was something he'd wanted for himself or only something had father had picked for him. Back then, the latter seemed more likely considering how young he had been.
    Still, it didn't sound like such a bad thing.
    "Yeah, it's 'n springtime," Kota stated, self-assured. "Yours is in summer, yeah?" He was pretty sure July was a summer month. Though, when asked how old he was turning, Kota paused, then furrowed his brow in concentration. How old am I turning? I was six when I was with my dad last... He held up his hands and slowly started to count on his fingers. And I know I'd been on my own for two winters which meant it had to be two years, and then my birthday is coming again now, so... "I think I'm turning... nine?" Was that right? It seemed so.
    The boy's attention quickly moved on when Muramasa stopped him in his kneading to show him how to do the next step--to which Kota delighted in following his instruction. "We don't eat it now?" Kota asked, not used to having meals that took multiple steps and needing things to sit for some time, it seemed strange to just let the dough sit around and do nothing... What were they going to do next, then? Kota wondered and watched with curiosity.
Mika has written 105 posts