[Kuronmeru Yosei]

It was only a matter he supposed until he ended up back here. The clan compound shrine to the fallen, a monument to all the Kuronmeru's sins. Compassion towards the fallen. Compassion towards the weak. Even more compassion for the dead than there was for the living in fact. As the newly teenaged boy was being forced to upkeep the shrine to the weak and deceased, to keep it and the area around it clean. To pay respects for those to weak to survive the trials they'd faced. As punishment for when he'd desecrated it, something he'd almost gotten away with. If he hadn't committed more vandalism during his scuffle with Enyo. The healing he'd needed, the timing of all the damage happening the day he'd been told by the clan elders to pay respects, the trail had led back to him. And so he got stuck here, a male shrinemaiden in the blooming spring in a nation that didn't bloom very much. But it was almost over now, the end in sight of when he'd be able to leave this dump of weaklings.

That was the line the scarf wearing big drew. The line between failure and weakling. Failing a mission but living, he didn't mind that, he could accept someone losing. Someone failing, if the Kuronmeru could fail anyone could after all. But to die, anyone who died was too weak to live. An unforgivable sin for any true Kuronmeru. He and Enyo had even bonded over this very thing, that the dead here don't deserve to be remembered. And he saw the altar bowl and prayer sticks on the mini shrine by where he was. Within reach. And it came rushing back, that feeling he'd gotten when he'd broken the bowl. The small act of vandalism, something he probably would've gotten away with back then. But that was back then, not now. Breaking it now would almost certainly lead to a beating, there'd be no presumption of innocence given for him. Yet that feeling, that rush he'd gotten. The rush of satisfaction, of looking down on his lessers, dead or not. And once again his hand drifted towards the bowl.

A loud shatter echoed through the memorial section of the compound, though the scarf wearing boy was pretty sure he was alone. Alone with a look like a cat who'd eaten the canary, a satisfied smile. He was upholding the true ideals of the clan. Then he'd grab the two large prayer sticks in the shrines cubby, his thumbs pressed against them. It was true, that he'd probably be beaten for this. But he'd been beaten before, and another likely consequence would probably be they wouldn't make him come here anymore. It wouldn't be worth it. And his grin grew at that, a more than worth it trade off. I should've done this in the beginning... And if no one stopped him, the two prayer sticks at his mercy would snap.