[Shindera Mori]

The missive had found Mori in a rather good mood. All things considered, the days leading up to receiving the summons had been enjoyable. He'd read a good book, enjoyed a stay in a small inn under an assumed identity, and had pilfered a rather sizeable portion of tobacco from an unfortunate traveler who he befell on the road. A missive from the only woman who he thought had the power to enact real change in the world had truly been the cherry on top. He was no fool, he knew that the elevation of the Nakajima clan to top of the world's hierarchy was almost counterintuitive to his pursuit of freedom from the ties that bound the world together. But if they could not maintain their strength, then it would be inevitable that they would collapse. The destruction of the current world was far more important than petty squabbling over who would lead the charge. Especially when he knew that the Burning Death was the only woman with the power to enact the change. So it was that he found himself returning to the country of his birth, or at least the waters that surrounded it. With his net draped over his shoulder, trident fastened to his waist, and well-worn travel clothing, he looked every bit like one of the fishermen who may have taken to the waters in more peaceful days. But these were not peaceful days. A warship lay in the water, and it was to that warship that he now travelled. As had seemingly become the way of it, a former fishing boat ferried the bandit, his relaxed demeanour and messy appearance seeing him blend with the crew in spite of his comparative ability to take all their lives. The arrival at the ship was met without much in the way of fanfare. They had been expected, and no doubt their course had been tracked by the look-outs of the ship since the moment they came into view.  A wry smile passed over Shindera Mori's lips as one of the crewmen of the Iron Moon tried to discern who among the crew was their guest. It was only once the former ANBU operative raised his hand with a sheepish smile that he was appropriately identified.  "G'morning," He smiled, offering the man a firm pat on the shoulder as he climbed aboard, the vessel upon which he arrived departing soon thereafter, "Your mistress has sent for me. Tell her Shindera has arrived." As the bemused crewmen looked on, the nukenin relaxed, drawing a rolled cigarette from his stolen stash and lighting it with a match from the same pouch. The greatest fires needed only a small spark.

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

There were few people in the world Seika truly enjoyed interacting with. Most, she had found, were blithering, stupid children without an ounce of sense in what they called a brain, and the few who did possess a modicum of intelligence usually squandered it in the pursuit of feckless, unimaginative goals. But there were a handful of people (three to be exact) that she held in higher regard; they were the rare gems, the diamonds amidst clay and coal, however unpolished and rough some of them might be. They, while not her equals, were the closest thing she had to peers, and were the only ones she was at least somewhat cordial to.

So when the lookout sent word to her that a fishing vessel was approaching with one of those people on it, the Nakajima gave a rare, genuine smile, her amber-gold gaze dancing with barely contained white flame as she strolled towards the receiving rampart, allowing Cynic to retain control of the ship, his face a flat mask of concentration and desire. All the crew were hers now; Daigo’s visit had stirred a movement within the ranks, igniting a passion to earn her favor that burned within every man’s heart, making even the most doubtful as fervent and devoted as any true believer. It was amusing, really, how easily they had fallen into her trap- dangle a bit of bait before their eyes, give them the hope of sleeping with her, and suddenly even the most steadfast doubter would abandon his senses for blind, fanatic devotion.

Tch, Peasants. The Shinnyoha thought, her heels clicking against the steel steps as she descended from the quarterdeck and onto the main, amber-gold gaze lingering for a moment on the fog clouded shores of Mishima off in the distance. It would be hers soon enough. But first… first she had a soldier to bring into her ranks. Stepping onto the main deck with a flourish of her cloak, the Nakajima woman turned towards the men congregating on the port side of the boat, her voice loud and clear as she announced her presence for those who had not been paying attention.

"Bring my guest aboard, my Shitei, then give the fishermen who escorted him the chance to join our ranks.” There was a quiet edge to the last part; the men knew what to do with those who refused her gift. They would not be killed, not right away, but they would be taken, their boat put into service of her growing fleet. Even the food in their stores would be put to use. No resource, no matter how small, was to be wasted. It would take everything, for every single one of her followers, to bring about the new world… but she would ensure that it happened. One way or another.


Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

Words spoken in a familiar voice sent a ripple through the crew, and sent expressions of worry across the faces of the fishermen that had brought Shindera aboard. The fugitive shinobi shot an apologetic smile and shrug to the crew before allowing himself to be brought aboard by one of the sailors. Their eyes left a lot to be desired. Shindera Mori had seen their expressions change as soon as the voice of their mistress had spoken, pure and utter devotion. They were cultists, well and truly. The grip that the woman had on men, and other women too, was truly something else. "Lady Seika!" Mori greeted warmly, calling out to that same woman. It was not a title he found himself using often, but he found that she had earned the respect, even if it sounded sarcastic at times from his lips.  The crewmen parted, allowing Mori to get his first look at Nakajima Seika in far too long. She was still the picture of beauty and grace that he remembered, but her fire was far more vivid, as if she was death embodied. She was, after all, Mori knew that very well. Still, he did not deign himself to formalities, even to the woman he respected above any other. Seika had been born to circumstances so very different to his own, the heir to a powerful clan with the gift of fire associated with such a bloodline. Yet, their ambitions were one and the same. Destruction. Rebirth. A new world. Their visions of the natural state of order may have differed, but Mori had always found that made her a far more enjoyable conversation partner. What was the point of philosophical debate if both parties agreed on all points. The former Kumogakure shinobi took a long drag of his cigarette, before bowing almost as an afterthought. "I must say, I am utterly impressed. A veritable warship, a loyal crew, your missive did not exaggerate. This is spectacular," Mori straightened to his full height, eyes glancing around, each detail carefully considered and filed away mentally, "Although not quite as spectacular as seeing you again, it's been far too long and it is so difficult to find good conversation partners."

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

"The pleasure is mine, Mori.” Seika said, smiling as the former Kumo-nin took in the Iron Moon, his looks still as ragged and unkempt as ever. That was perhaps the one gripe she had with the mani, beyond their philosophical disputes- he simply did not care enough about his appearance, choosing to parade himself about like a beggar and vagrant rather than the wondrously deadly dealer of death that he was. But that was a minor complaint amidst a sea of praises, and it showed in the expression on the Nakajima’s face; her eyes shone with an enjoyment that none of the crew had seen since she had taken the ship from their former captain.

"Please, come. We have much to discuss.” She said once the man had finished bowing, her amber-gold gaze shifting, if only for a moment, to the fishing vessel he had come from; the men were tidying up now, hauling three of the five workers up onto the ship with eager smiles and open arms. Two, the eldest two, had rejected her offer- they would be taken up shortly and readied for the coming rituals. Good.

Offering Mori her hand, the raven-haired woman gestured towards the stairs she had just descended, her smile widening as her servants went about their tasks. The former Kumo-nin got a fair number of glances, jealous and confused alike, but no one dared do anything about his presence while she was around. Not openly, anyway. There plots atop plots within the lower ranks, but little of it spread into open bloodshed; they knew better than to try and kill someone that didn’t belong to her, after all.

Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

Despite his appearance, Shindera Mori was still capable of playing the part of the gentleman when circumstances demanded it. A ruffian in looks, his mind remained sharp, and his words ever-polite. One tended to be seen as less of a threat, more likely to be invited into another's abode, when seen as another common man, a trait that had proven invaluable to the man in his life both as an agent of Kumogakure and as a fugitive. So it was that he took Seika's hand with the appropriate decorum and deference that a lady of her stature demanded. "I am ever eager for a discussion with you,” He smiled, his crow's feet deepening with the familiar action. But the eyes they framed turned away from Seika and to the crew. Animosity wafted off them like a miasma, and he could not help his smile from widening further. How small minded they must be, to grow jealous of a man for daring to touch their goddess. The mewlings of the weak were so often that way. He didn't pay them any mind as they walked, he was confident enough in his own abilities and the hospitality in his host, instead turning his attention to the woman who had summoned him. "The cynic in me never foresaw a moment like this,” He said as they walked, matching his pace to hers, "Although, I think it safe to say that you were always the one with the plan and ambition.” "Which, of course, begs the question. I presume to know you well enough to guess that you wouldn't have summoned me without purpose. I take it you see a path to change?”

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

"I have always seen a path, Mori.” Seika said as they walked down the gangway and back up the stairs she had just descended, her amber-gold gaze fixed on the path ahead of her without ever letting her ragged-looking companion out of sight. "The issue was never knowing what to do, but having the ability to do it.” She had known for years what needed to happen for her plans to be enacted, but the resources, the manpower, the access had always been lacking. But now? Now she had everything she needed… Almost. Just a few more pieces.

"But if you must know, yes. There is a path.” She said after a moment, her lips quirking up in a soft, knowing smile as she stopped in front of a wide door and pushed it open, gesturing for Mori to enter. Once inside, the man would find a small table welded to the floor, complete with a fine tea set and an array of matcha powders and leaves for him to choose from, as well as a small stove for boiling the water. The rest of the room was utterly utilitarian, lacking in any flair of luxury, with one of the two seats bolted down and lacking a back… almost like an interrogation room.

Seika, of course, took the proper chair, waiting for her guest to sit before speaking again, her voice calm and light despite the heavy nature of what was to come. "But that can wait. We have tea to make… and a few things to settle, I think.”

Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

"I never allowed myself to share your optimism," Mori responded as they walked. It was the truth, he'd contented himself with theory, having long resigned himself to a life of impotence and petty pleasures. Seika had lofty dreams, but he did not allow himself to buy into them. But this... the manpower at her disposal, the fanatic loyalty that Mori saw reflected in the eyes of the same men that served as the backbone of that power, he was beginning to believe that there was indeed a path. The tea set, however, was almost as welcome a sight. The little things in life were truly glorious, and tea was oneof his foremost loves. A fact that it seemed that their time apart had not robbed Seika of. "Oh, Lady Seika," He grinned at her, "You are too kind. Excuse my manners, please, let us enjoy a brew before we discuss matters of business." Choosing a pale green matcha powder, Mori allowed the moving meditation of brewing the tea to take control of his actions. Just as he had trained incessantly with is trident and net, so too had he practiced the brewing of tea. Water was boiled, powder was added to a cup, whisked, and further water added. The scent was delectable, hints of bitterness and umami dancing at his nose before he even took his first sip. "Please, allow me, after all you have prepared the tea and invited me into your home. Still partial to Da-Hong Pao?" Regardless of her answer, Mori would take the opportunity to speak, be it whilst making the tea for his companion or while sipping at his own brew. "Yes, a few things to settle indeed. I take it you have thought on our last debate? There are times where I consider your points," He sighed contentedly, "Tea and philosophy, nostalgic, no?"

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

"I am no optimist, Mori. I deal in certainties and eventualities, not wishes.” Seika said as the man stepped into the room, allowing her companion to work on the tea himself while she took the only chair, leaving Mori with only a bolted down stool to sit on. The scholar would find his selection to be quite a bit broader than the last time they had shared a cup of tea; there was a tin of Da-Hong Pao, of course, but also several other fine brands, each bearing the mark of a different trader or merchant. All had been recovered during the trip south, each one tested and deemed worthy of her use, though she had only tasted one of them besides the Da-Hong Pao. Too much to do, and not enough time to do it.

"You may surprise me.” She said once the man had begun to boil the water, crossing her legs beneath the table as she waited, half watching her guest from the corner of one eye. She trusted Mori more than most, but the man was still a natural born killer; he was as deadly with his trident and net as any she knew, and equally dangerous without them. She did not believe he was here to kill her, did not believe he wanted to, but there was no sense in not being cautious with such a man. Especially given what she would be asking of him.

A few minutes passed in silence as Mori made his tea, her eyes watching the man’s every movement without ever wandering from the small window that had been cut into the lone door. Eventually, the man finished, bringing over two cups of fine porcelain and a steaming pot of hot water, though before he could pour either of them a cup, Seika held out her hand, indicating he should sit. Once he did, the woman spoke again, her amber-gold gaze alight with a faint white-fire, her voice calm but impassioned, as if the fire inside was bursting at the seam, waiting to be unleashed.

"I have indeed thought about our last debate. And as you can see, I have taken some of your words to heart.” The Nakajima woman began allowing Mori to pour the tea now that he was properly seated. "I assume you have heard the rumors about something brewing on Mishima, so I will be frank with you; they are not rumors. Nisshoku has been formed, and a suitable place has been located for us to ignite the fire. Your former village will not remain in the dark for long, but for now we have an advantage that I intend to press.”

Seika paused then, not touching her tea just yet, gaz locked on Mori’s; she knew he disagreed with her on the supremacy of the Nakajima, knew he wished for the world to come to be one that was radically different from what she desired… but she also knew of his hatred for Kumogakure, knew he would not pass up the opportunity to strike a true, honest blow against one of the five Major Shinobi Nations. She just had to convince him it was possible.

"We’re going to do it, Mori. It is happening.” She said, at last reaching over to pick up her tea, blowing on the warm liquid before she took a sip- not Da Hong-Pao, but something else. A bitter brew, full of flavor and depth, with a hint of sweetness at the end. "And I want you to be part of it.”

Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

Wry laughter came from Mori's chest, an old debate, but one that never seemed to die, "The only certainty I've ever known is that the world is cruel and unfair. To desire to change it, is to wish." The words lacked malice, and the good-natured smile that accompanied them made the earnestness of the sentiment known, but there were other matters to discuss before they rehashed the cynical views of a clanless bookworm, "Then allow me to prepare you some matcha. Not quite an imperial blend, but one I grew quite partial to about a year ago. I did some bodyguard work for a caravan master, ironic, no? Anyway, I ended up enjoying his selection of teas. The man was a bore but his wife proved an adequate conversation partner, so they still live." With his tale finished, he allowed silence to settle as he took to brewing the tea. Mori could feel her burning eyes upon him, once again feeling like prey before a predator. It was not a feeling he was familiar with, he had allowed himself to grow complacent in his killing. So few of those who patrolled the roads offered any real threat to him, mayhap his skills were growing rusty, unused. A terrible fate. Even then, he remained sharp enough to know that any sudden movement from him would see a quick response from his old companion. Whether she played at ship's captain or not, he knew that Nakajima Seika could fight with the ferocity of any cornered animal, and fire danced and burned at her smallest thought. He had come to hear her out, he did not intend violence, but he always expected it. Near a decade he had been a fugitive, death was life. But he continued as if preparing tea for a friend in a small tea house back in Kumogakure, and so too did she continue the conversation. Two killers playing at domesticity. He moved to pour the tea, but acquiesced to her direction and sat before doing so. As he poured the liquid, he listened intently, lips pursing in thought. He sat in silence, allowing the aromas of the tea to waft into his nostrils as her words filled his ears. Finally he spoke, "I never thought it could be possible, I had contented myself to a rather quiet existence, studying and surviving. I know you disagree with me on my definition of them as wishes, but I was never afforded the ability to see them as anything but. The name 'Shindera' is that of a peasant priest, not the burning heirs to Yukigakure." He sipped on his tea, "But I also never thought it would be possible for one woman to take control of a warship, to break the souls of her crew such that they worship her as a goddess. Maybe you were not the optimist, maybe I was merely a pessimist playing at realist." Mori chuckled, "Maybe that is a debate to which I must finally concede the point. Maybe the world can be changed." It went unspoken, but it was clear, regardless of any of his other stances, of his nihilistic view of the world and its inhabitants, the desire to believe was there. Mori wanted to believe in Seika's ability to change the very fabric of the world, he wanted to burn down the corruption that had long since taken hold of the roots that blossomed into the villages and nations. More than that, he wanted to burn down the villages itself. He knew, deep down, that she was wielding his hatred for Kumogakure against him, appealing to his emotion, yet, he did not care. He wanted to see the village die, he wanted a world free of Kages. "Is it not better to die in pursuit of one's dreams than to live without?" He spoke aloud, but the question was rhetorical. "If it is happening as you say, then the fire rises, and this comes as the ideal opportunity for our dreams of a new world to arise. To sit idly by and allow my own skills to waste away instead of in pursuit of change and justice. That would be a crime, more so than whatever the fools who call themselves lords dare label us with. I would be a fool to not join you," Mori answered, before immediately countering his own point. "Although, I must admit to some reservations... Your men. I trust your ability, I trust your drive and your fire. But the eyes of your followers are soulless. Do you remember the day that we met? When you burned the corpses of those rebels? I see much the same in your sailors as I did in those men, they follow, but they do not know why. Should the world be destroyed, then the fire of Nisshoku should match the fire of your own convictions... of our convictions."

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

"Change is as certain as death, Mori.” Seika said, watching the man prepare his matcha, her gaze calm despite the flickering white-flame that danced beneath the amber-gold. To most, this would look to be little more than a cordial meeting between old friends who wished to share a cup of tea, but both Nuke-nin knew better; the two of them were trained killers, monsters in human skin who could and would slaughter everything insight if it meant getting what they wanted. "The only question is not if, but when it comes.”

The Nakajima woman let her statement lie as her guest continued to prepare their tea, the silence stretching long until, with a breath, Mori came to the table with their tea, the smell of the matcha brew strong but flavorful in her nose. She sipped the liquid as the man spoke, her amber-gold gaze focused on his face; a surge of satisfaction swept through her when the man admitted, at last, that he had been wrong in his assessment of her goal. Of their goal, however divergent the endstate of their respective visions were.

"I thought you might, after seeing what I’ve accomplished.” The raven-haired woman said, sipping her tea as Mori spoke on, listing his concerns. Concerns she herself shared, however little she wished to admit as much. Her crew were pirates first and foremost, violent men best suited to the slaughter and pillage of their profession- changing the world, reshaping things to create a new, bright utopia was the furthest thing from their minds. She had used that to her advantage, had twisted them to her purpose, but if Nisshoku was to rise as she wanted it, there would have to be more.

"I agree.” Seika began, setting her cup of tea down, leveling her full attention upon Mori’s face as she spoke, her voice as serious as the man had ever heard it. "Which is why I have asked you here, old friend. If we are to burn the old world to ash, there must be a reason; and the people who aid must know it. I know of no one better suited to that task than you.” The Nakajima woman paused then, glancing at the open doorway for a moment before she continued on, her lips parting in a soft, knowing smile.

"I would have you as my Hikari Yogensha. The Prophet of Light, come to reveal to the world the truth of their Shinnyoha, and the world we wish to create.”

Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

It was Mori's turn to allow the silence to linger, the proposition left hanging in the air. He was clever enough to assume that she had likely invited him with the intention of recruiting him to her cause. That much had been certain from the very tone and direction of their conversation. He had not expected the role to which she would have him play. He was well traveled and well read, yes, and he was prone to striking conversations up with those on the road. But their philosophies, despite being so deeply intertwined differed in the idealised world which they sought to create, sought to envision. "You know my older brother became a priest?" He mused wryly, "A prophet outranks that a fair bit." The joke was dry, but it was not designed to elicit laughter. Cutting the tension through informality was how he operated, it was how he weakened his opponents. Mori did not hope to weaken Seika, but the tactic was one he fell back on all the same. "Say I accept," Mori mused, sipping at his tea, "We have had... disagreements over philosophy in the past. I would gladly serve, I would throw my whole being behind the need, to bring others to your- our cause. You have my full faith to bring about the new world, to destroy the corruption that rots and destroys this current one. Know that you would have my utter loyalty, and the loyalty of those I bring..." He paused. "But I will not lie about my own beliefs." The implication was unspoken. He would follow Seika into the new world, into fire and into death, he would recruit others to the cause, he would help them to see her light, but he did not see white flame as holy. The Nakajima were not divinity given flesh.

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

"I would not ask you to.” Seika said, sipping her tea with a slight, knowing smile as Mori spoke, the shift in his language telling her that, for all intents and purposes, she had already won. No longer would she have to argue to convince the man of the possibility that her crusade would succeed, that any effort he put forth would not be pointless clawing for an impossible goal. No, Mori’s concerns were of a far more personal kind- a difference, not in ideals, but in faith. And while the idea of the man openly denying her claims of divinity before the men was a laughable one (there was no quicker way to have his head torn off), she did not doubt he would do it if pushed.

"I think you will find that my claims on this matter are not as clear-cut as some of my followers would like to believe.” She said after a moment, setting her cup of tea down as she spoke, uncrossing and recrossing her legs beneath the table before she continued on. "The material I’ve been able to get the men to produce has been… intentionally vague on that point. The official position of Nisshoku is that I, as Shinnyoha, am an agent of the divine, sent to purify the world and birth a new order out of the ashes of the old.”

There was an implication in the language, of course; it wasn’t a difficult leap to go from being an agent of the gods to being the avatar of one, and that leap was far easier to make for her than most, given what her title meant. But for all the men echoed her own, personal beliefs on the matter, none of them could honestly say they had heard her make any such claim to divinity. She had been quite careful about that, for this very reason.

"Does that ease your concerns, Mori-san?” Seika asked, her smile shifting into something sickeningly sweet, the kind of smile one might find a serial killer wearing just before they slaughtered their latest victim. Which, in a way, she was.

Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

Shindera Mori was many things, a murderer, a thief, an assassin, a self-described philosopher, but he was no fool. Seika’s game was not a mystery to him, he knew that he was dancing upon threads of her making. As the spider drew that fly into her parlour, so too was he being entangled in her web of plots and schemes. She spoke sweetness, promising a world that would change, be destroyed and remade. He was no fool. He knew he was being played, yet he could not bring himself to deny the words that she spoke. Her divinity was a point that he did not wish to concede, he knew Nakajima Seika. She was an extraordinary woman, terrifying and beautiful in equal measure, but she was no goddess. Mori was not entirety sure if he believed her concession as to her own lack of divinity, while he wanted to believe that his old friend was using it as a means to an end, or even thought herself ordained by the gods, he could not shake the feeling that part of her truly did think she was imbued with an essence of the divine. Mori was silent for a moment, letting the words that she spoke wash over him. The mission was just, to purify the world and bring about a new order. Did it really matter if the men believed that she was the heavens made flesh? She’d not require him to say as much himself and, perhaps, those recruits who he could bring in would be more pure of heart. They would follow her out of a true desire for change. Change that he could help bring about at her side. Left to her own devices, the cult of Nisshoku may grow, but with him there to assist in righting its course, the dream of Nisshoku may flourish from the peculiarities of its origins. Leaning back into his chair, Mori smiled, it was only then that he realised he’d allowed his facade to slip somewhat. The nonchalant traveller, world-weary but smiling had disappeared, replaced by the shrewd eyed murderer who had earned his place in the Kumogakure bingo book. "Our mission is divine,” He said simply, "Seika-sama.” Lady Seika, Seika-sama, they were terms he had used before, often with a sense of ironic purpose. She was highborn, yet cast to the wilds like himself, to cling to those remnants of the old world had brought him wry amusement. Such playfulness was not present now. Or at least if it was, it was greatly hidden. Finishing his tea, he twirled the cup idly in his hands as he spoke, "I will be your messenger, the undercurrent of society longs for rebellion against tyrants. The death of the Raikage will be a pleasant sight indeed.” It was only then that he rose an eyebrow, "Hikari Yogensha, huh? I take it that you have other such prophets, when will I meet my esteemed colleagues?”

Seika Nakajima

[Seika Nakajima]

Seika knew the moment she had Mori. There was a flicker of surprise across the rugged man’s face, the soft, subtle shift of compromise as he considered her words, weighing what his morals, his code meant in the face of finally grasping hold of everything he had ever dreamed of achieving. And like so many practical, intelligent men before him, the Bandit Scholar chose the right path, discarding his principles and personal integrity in order to seize the power and position he needed to make his goals a reality.

"Indeed it is, Shindera-san.” She said, returning the man’s smile with one of her own, a soft, knowing thing that held back none of the amusement and pleasure she felt at having the man bow, however metaphorically, to her. It had been a long road, with many twists and turns, but the seed she had planted all those years ago was finally bearing fruit. "I am glad to have you finally join it.”

The Nakajima woman paused then, picking her tea back up and sipping it as the man lean back in his stool, her gaze focused on his chin i such a way that she could take in most everything that was happening without having to appear that she was doing it at all. His words held no playful sarcasm now; there was, for once, no mask on the man, the playful, ragged bandit having fallen away to reveal the cold-hearted killer that had earned his place in the bingo books.

"Indeed, there are two others.” Seika began, holding her tea in one hand as she spoke, amber-gold gaze shifting from Mori’s chin to his eyes, all the playful amusement and satisfaction gone from her tone. This was a serious matter, after all. "The Yoru Yogensha, who I have already sent on an errand, and the Reimei Yogensha, who has not yet answered my summons, but should shortly.” She did her best to mask the annoyance she felt about that little fact; it wouldn’t do to have the man see she wasn’t fully in control of the others just yet.

"If you intend to stick around, I can arrange for you to meet the former, when he returns from his mission.”

Shindera Mori

[Shindera Mori]

When man had first tamed wolves, the beasts had likely considered themselves the victors in the trade. Warmth and food in exchange for assistance to the hairless apes? What was a little bit of deference in exchange? The same primal instincts that had likely gripped and warned those canines long since passed tugged at Shindera Mori’s soul, but he forced them down. Purpose, divine or otherwise, was worth more than the wilderness of a single man’s soul. He was every bit the wolf approaching the flame, having resigned itself to a place in the warmth of the fire as Seika continued to speak. An air of violence filled the room, but it was tempered, held back behind veils and agreements. They were akin, yet different, forces of death united in common purpose. A purpose that was, ultimately, her’s, and not his. Still, the coldness of the air painted their words as the conversation continued. The courting period was over, their masks had slipped somewhat, not so far as to reveal patterns of weakness, but to shed the false weakness that hid their brutality. Mori danced his empty cup in his fingers, considering Seika’s words, "How long do you suppose this errand will take?” "I mean no disrespect to your man, but if we are to have a chance at sowing seeds in the Lighting Country, time is of the essence. Rumours spread fast, and your presence… is hardly circumspect.” He paused, placing the cup down, "Of course, should he return shortly, I would be more than pleased to meet his acquaintance. He and whoever your Reimei Yogensha may be, whenever they see fit to answer your summons.” A playful tone touched his words at that sentence, he may have bowed, but he was not yet broken. "The first domino has fallen,” Mori spoke once more, "The common folk need be informed of such… In… adequate terms.”

Seika Nakajima