2006 TOA Character Roleplay Introductions

[LocoColt04]

This thread is ONLY for participants who wish to create an introduction for their character which would chronicle the character's journey to Japan and the estate where the tournament is to be held.

The identities of the men who run the tournament MUST REMAIN ANONYMOUS to the participants. Your character can meet the attendants who will show them to their rooms, or those who will explain the rules, but they will not know the directors of the tournament until they make themselves known at the end of the first round (i.e. the judges).

...hmm, I suppose us judges should put up characters in the registration thread as well, but we'll do that after the first round starts.

This thread eliminates the need for extensive introductory posts in the first round.

Anyway, the thread is yours.



edit:
Oh, and I should mention that the 15 minute edit rule will NOT apply to this thread. You may edit as many times as you like until the thread is closed, at which point it will be impossible for you to edit anyway.

[Mistress Sheena]

The sound of a steel blade cutting through flesh. The lamentation of those falling towards the dirt. The blood that stains one's body...

Yes. These are the common events that assassins encounter on every mission. Yet this current mission had been different than the others. The very thought of this mission had put a vicious smile upon his face. His instructions were to infiltrate the tournament in the guise of registering for it as a competitor. He was to seek out a specific person and put a stop to their attempts to meddle with the Imperial military.

Or so he had been told, anyway. This certain assassin went by the name Gamanoji Ren. There were no records of family or relatives. He was an orphan taken in by an Imperial family and was raised to fight when he was able to hold a kendo stick. Eventually with over 10 years of training and another 10 of battle experience, he had went through the ranks and became one of the Hitokiri of the Imperial Military. Some say he was a natural born warrior.

Eventually he thought up his own fighting style. Or so he thought. Turns out it had already been invented and had the name 'Shiranui-ryu'. He took up that fighting style and added Batoujutsu into his arsenal as well.

What he does not know, is that this very tournament is about to change his life forever.

The first thing in the morning he had already been dressed and arrived at the Tournament location. He provided the letter he received to the attendants standing guard and they admitted him in. One of the other attendants guided him to a room that had been assigned to him to use during the duration of the Tournament.

He silently bowed showing his thanks, and sat down on the floor meditating until his name his match had been announced.

[T.G. Oskar]

Towards the grounds of the Tournament, a monk walks by. Wearing a worn coat, head down, as if he were hiding from something. The monk holds in his bandaged hands a set of prayer beads, in around 4 hanging loops. The beads are separated in a way that the entire ornament, untied, would reach quite some feet. Holding a walking staff, worn only in the points, he keeps walking by. The staff looks worn by time, as if he never had used it for other reason than walking. However...

...as he passed by, a set of swords, tied with a complex knot, hanged behind him. A monk, with swords? Who would have thought? Some passers make small talk of the strange monk with swords, until a knowledgeable individual remarks that the sheath, and the style of the tsuba and handle were reminsicent of a long-lost samurai troop. A troop...thought extinct. Could he be...?

Upon inquiring, the individual told the story of that man, as he heard it. The rumors about him, that is. The rumors say he was once a loyal retainer of a shogun from the Kyoto prefecture, a powerful shogun known as Lord Kusara. The city he governed was well known for the large temple to the sun goddess Amaterasu, pride and joy of the area. The rumors continue that unknown lords plotted against him, and sent samurai disguised as bandits, in a well-thought plan that included cutting supplies to the land, and the occasional bandit raids, which were grtowing ever more dangerous because the bandits were getting more and more skilled, and the soldiers were running short.

One fateful day, the rumors say,Lord Kusara's territory was devastated by a large bandit raid, which decimated all soldiers, merchants, priests, royalty...everyone. It was said to be a raid right in dawn, where the bandits appeared as light was covering the land. The rumors said the last few samurai went to the great temple of Amaterasu, after the terrible death of Lord Kusara. The few samurai remaining decided to protect the temple, in hopes the goddess would save them. But to no avail: the bandits sacked the temple and murdered all, save one.

The lone remaining samurai was rescued by a passing caravan, of which some of its passengers were warrior monks who worshipped Buddha. The samurai, so they said, was healed of all wounds, save one: the wounds of his soul. As he went to perform seppuku, the monks requested him not to. And so, they introduced him to Buddha. The monks convinced him worshipping the Shinto gods led to nowhere, and that the only way towards perfection was the path to Nirvana: the path they walked. While hesitant at first, soon the samurai realized: their path, perhaps, would finally give him the peace of mind he could not find. How he failed to his lord, and how the gods betrayed him when in need.

Time passed. The story of the survivor of the Kusara massacre became only rumors, but with hints of legend. No one knew where said man was located. Some say he died, and in a variety of ways. Some say the survivor is living his life hunting down the bandits who ruined his life. Some say he turned into a Buddhist monk, preaching about the path to Nirvana. Rumors diverge from here, but one thing was certain: few copies of the blades of the Kusana samurai still exist, in the hands of wealthy merchants and collectors. Not of wandering monks. Only the survivor of said disaster would still own a daisho of Kusana swords, since it is well known that one pair of blades were missing. Right where a large stain of blood stood, right near the destroyed statue of Amaterasu.

The monk was now very far away. Inside the building. Wandering, but without the luggage. A maid working in the location assigned for the Tournament participants found a letter tucked within the possessions of a wandering monk, with the following message:

"Go to the Tournament of Arms. Win, and I shall tell you the truth. About the Kusara massacre. Who were the culprits. Who lived, who died. But, only if you win."

And, in the same letter, a phrase, written in red ink...

"Penance, is my way to Nirvana"

[Lost Sol]

No thoughts, just the sound of his feet walking on the earth on a dirt path through the forest. It didn't take long for a city that he never explored to come in view. Hopefully this city, would have some sort of skilled fighter.

Little did he know, there were more than just some

Always, he'd stop at a cheap resturant for food with his travel money which was supplied by his clan. When he finally found one, right to the side of the entrance was a sign.

"TOURNAMENT OF ARMS."

The word "tournament" was all it took to spark his interest. Surely if there's a tournament, there has to be skilled warriors. After reading the entire sign, he went to where it said the participants sign up, and shortly after, he was registered as one of the warriors. What seemed strange to him, which he had never experienced before, was that after he registered, he was led to a large building which was meant to hold the rooms of the warriors who were to participate in this tournament by an attendant, whom he didn't trust in the least. An irritating thought crossed his mind the moment he heard of the warriors residing in the same building as himself. It was one that was quickly disposed of, quite possibly there may have been someone else with the same idea and he decided it best to wait in the room he was assigned to. Now, he prepares himself mentally and physically for the upcoming matches.

[Anomaly]

Summer lightning...it comes in subtile flashes dancing on the horizon. Each flash freezes the scene in an instant of transfigured radience that fades reluctantly from the gaze. After images picked out in the violet greens of the mind float in the gathering twilight. The world is the gray green of mountains after the storm. Another flash.

This place is different. Still lush and green, but instead of the transition hours of the day it is night. Night though it is, a harsh, red glare rises from a nearby pagoda. The distant screams float fitfully on the gentle breeze. This kind of night, full of tranquility, should not be associated with the roar of flames and the dying of loved ones. With untold loss and boundless suffering. Yet a figure crawls in that darkness, half blinded by rage and pain, the blood of his wife staining his white kamono a deep crimson. One eye is nothing but a glob of crimson amid a horrid vysage burnt black. The other...a cold orb in which dances the spirit of vengeance. There would be more death this night...oh so very much more.

Another lightning flash. The caravan moves swiflty, running ahead of the storm. This woods are rumored to be haunted by more than thieves and brigands. Their lord has charged them to have him home by the falling of night. They hurry swiflty as the last vestiges of storm curl in behind them with a soft flash.

More blood soaks him. He has nothing now...no one to love, no one to hate. Everything is gone...he has had his revenge, and now...now there is nothing. Is he too much of a coward to end it, to kill himself and be with the ones he loved? So much dishonor, so much disgrace...there is no comfort. He turns from the pile of corpses and marches out into the pouring morning rain. The gods wash away the blood and take the edge off his sorrow. At that moment, a man finally let go and his spirit died. He weeps as he enters the forest of bamboo.

The party draws up. A single man stands in their path, yet behind him are several felled trees. The silohette of a man draws a strange hooked weapon. A pipe flares for a moment before it is spat out onto the ground in a surge of smoke. In the distance, the thunder rolls out a deep, rumbling note that ends with another, more silent flash.

The man scavenges...becomes a thief and a bandit to feed himself and to aquire a place to sleep. Why he keeps moving, keeps living, he doesn't bother contemplating anymore. He is simpley what is left of a sad fools folly. Yet even so, it slips into his head one day...why stay here? Why stay in this place where his shame brings fresh suffering every day? Where already their is a price on his head?

It is at the docks where he sees the monks. He despises them, for if the gods really cared for the people, for anyone, why had they allowed them to live at all? Why had they given HIM life? Yet his stomach needed to be filled. He offers his services to them as a protector from the foriegn devils as they seek to spread the word of the Buddah and bring aid and enlightnment to the world. At least he'd have a meal for another day.

Blood and mud mingle as the rain starts afresh. The rains always cling close to the mountains, breaking and reforming, like the small regiment of men. Some lay convulsing, needles sticking from neck, arm, or eye socket. Others will never move again, body parts lay strewn amid bodies whos stomachs or faces seem to have been gouged out. One, desperate to kill this man approaches from behind him and to the right. He noted the man was blind in that eye. If he moves swiftly enough, perhaps he can capitalize upon this.

Too late, a hook is draged across his face, rips through his left eye socket and slams his skull into a nearby tree, shattering the bone. The hook disgouges a huge chunk of flesh and bone as it is pulled from the skull with a sickening cracking noise.

The monks lay dead. He hadn't bothered to try and protect them. If their gods couldn't do the job, then they were better off dead. Oh, he killed the ones who had slaughtered them, but it waso nly to retrieve the money and rice they had taken. They would be his now. He knew the language and he knew well the ways of men. He didn't need the monks anymore.

The man picks his pipe up from the ground and wipes the mud off with a simple cloth and tucks it away in the depths of his kimono. The lord sits sadately beneath his crimson canopy. After a moment, a barely audible clapping can be heard, almost in accompaniment to the steady flashes of summer lighting.

A life of pain and death hardens the man into a death dealer on par with those of legend. A thug, sometimes for the state, sometimes against the state, but always a thug, leaving a trail of bloody tears in his wake.

That is his calling card. Taking the sight of the dead so they no longer have to see the cruelty of this world...so they will no longer have to shed their bitter tears of regret. Or perhaps simpley a settling of debts. The world stole an eye from him. An eye for an eye?

"Well done. You have indeed demonstrated your talents. I believe you are the perfect candidate to represent my house. But tell me, why did you not spare any of them? Surely a few of them were worthy men."

The summer lightning illuminates Ketsurui, the Bitter Tears, the Bloody Tears, features. Aging though he is, their is a hardness about his features as his greying hair and beard move gently in the storms wind. He closes his one good eye as he relights his pipe, draws in, and then exhales a plume of smoke. He hefts his hooked sword onto his shoulder, and then gives the lord a long blank stare before answering.

"If you can't do your job, you're better off dead. Better a corpse resting peacefully, than a corpse stumbling through life with nothing to look forward to but rotting further. If they're lucky...they're in a place where they don't have to accept dirty money to get by."

The lord chuckles to himself. "So you refuse to represent us? Then perhaps you are not interested in our 'dirty money' anymore?"

The greying haired man takes his pipe from his mouth and spits a bit of grit on the ground.

"I never said that. Just give me the time and the place. I will defeat those who need be defeated and kill those who need killing. For whatever little honor it will bring to your household and money to my pockets. I have given my oath."

The lord smiles. "Very well then, my manservent will give you directions and the time and place. We wish you the very best of luck. May fortune continue to smile upon you Ketsurui-san."

Another small contingent of men comes from out the woods and helps their lord away along an alternate route that has already been prepared. He had led those other men to their death, yet these men still served him. His purse strings must indeed be loose, if only from the bulging gold within. A man with a paper umbrella hands Ketsurui a parchment and then marches smartly after his master, leaving Ketsurui standing amid the dead and dying. Ketsurui doesn't even bother reading the parchment as he stands, letting the rain pour over the old burns on his face, and cool the silent rage that flashes brighter than the lightning beneath his stoic exterior.

"Fortune certainly is doing something on me. It just doesn't feel like its smiling."

He tucks the parchment away...and fades into the forest like an after image.

-------------------------------

It is a new day. The mansion is truly beautiful. It brings back memories, but if they are good or bad, it would be impossible to tell on Ketsurui's face. All his entry fees have already been taken care of. He knew what room he was staying in and went to it without so much as nodding at the attendents. They fussed at the muddy foot prints left on their floors, but were instantly silenced by a cold, one eyed stare.

He would get what rest he could and avoid contact with the others as much as possible. That is, of course, until it came time for the metal to meet the meat. It was rare for the butcher to live with the livestock...but such was the nature of this good natured 'tournament'.

In his room he found what he had asked be delivered, his medicine case. Within it was everything he would need to tend to his wounds. He didn't particularly intend to get injured, but to not take precautions would be foolishness. Aside from which, beneath the basic bandages and ointments were his cache of steel needles. Several bundles, some pre-drugged others not. With them would be the special vials and powders, those that He sometimes would need to rely on for the more resistant livestock.

Either way, everything was ready.

[Baneheart]

It had been raining all day when the most suspicious character had found himself stepping into the most grand city of all Japan, Edo. Many people would sway around him quickly with their heads tilt low not to make eye-contact, though the conical hat shrouded his face almost completely except the unemotional lining of his lips, his own head at a tilt to keep the top half of his face hidden. But this did not keep people from speaking as to the symbol upon his back roused rumors within the city about who he was. Further more, a large naginata laid upon his shoulder as he slowly walked forward. No one would stay in his path. Most figured it was just another Samurai, but he did not seem the typical swordsmen you would see.

The symbol of a wolf is what branded his back, it having it's own rumor from nearly a year back in time to where it had became known to the public world. What caught most of the people's attention was this man's kimono, a fine crimson coloration and design almost enough to show royalty, but it was uncertain. He walked around town for quite some time before turning a few corners and straight into an alley where the less fortunate peasants lived, many of them becoming alert when he came into the tiny village as he walked into one of the houses and put down two ryo's to the man sitting behind the main desk. "One night." He said, giving a soft yet deep voice that did not carry a pleasant sound. The Inn-Keeper became surprised at how much the man had and took the money without question, taking the stranger to his room.

It was rather dirty and cold from the rain, but no complaints came from the stranger. The stranger took a seat upon the creaky bed and pulled his large weapon off his shoulder to lie against the wall, he leaning his head against it as well. The Inn-Keeper did not say anything towards the stranger, walking off as quickly as he entered and leaving the samurai-appearing stranger to be.

During his time there resting, he had pulled out a pipe and had began smoking, his arms inside his kimono to keep warm while his ears on guard. When the rain stopped it was an hour before something warned him, a woman outside talking rather loud. Another man's voice crept in quickly, but louder and more clear. "Are you sure it is that man? He wouldn't risk getting killed by coming here! Besides, rumors are every where that a man with the same description came in and I doubt if he was a samurai he would come in this filthy place to stay!" The other woman argued with him before finally convincing to at least check it out and with a grunt the man walked inside the Inn.

More words were exchanged with the man and the Inn-Keeper before footsteps walked up the stairs and down the hall until they slid the door open, the stranger still smoking. "I don't know what their fuss is about, but I hope that they are--", the man appeared to be a police-man as he had stopped in the middle of his sentence to notice the large weapon sitting against the wall. The police-man grabbed the handle of his sword and edged himself into the room easing closer until he was in good distance away from the samurai. "So it is true, I bet you are that dog that killed off that entire family, Akuma!" The police-man yelled. Slowly, the stranger's conical hat rose to greet his golden eyes towards this guard and make a shrieking bit of fear run down the police-man's back.

Strangely, it was a few minutes before the samurai walked out of the Inn where another police-man stood with the other peasants near, most inside their homes. "Hey, you! Where is my guard?!" He asked. The stranger stopped for a moment, yet did not turn his head. "He decided to hang around for awhile." The stranger said before continuing to walk on. The police-man felt unease by what he had said and quickly went into the Inn and up the stairs, sliding opens the door to find himself in shock. The one police-man was hanging from a pier above from what seemed to be wire from the bed. The police-man ran out of the Inn and blew his whistle. "We have a murderer on the loose! His name is Akuma! Find him!" He screamed in every direction alerting other police-man.

The stranger Akuma had already been quickly walking through town and walked pass a wanted poster of a man reading, "Akuma Nirro, Wanted for 100 ryo's." The picture showed a long silver haired man with sharp golden eyes, very detailed. It was not long before Akuma saw a police-man up ahead and decided to make a quick turn into a large opening, moving through the door to find himself in a large space and a mansion. There was a man standing on the porch wearing glasses, his hands held together as he stared as the new-comer. Akuma walked up to the man and lifted his conical hat to reveal his face. "I assume you are here for the Tournament, no?" The man said. Akuma thought for a moment. "Yes, but I would like details." He responded. The man bowed his head and pulled open a scroll. "In the name of the Governor of this Province, he has stated to have a tournament here every year for great warriors to come from all places to fight in the name of the Emperor. The winner gains title of Champion."

Akuma almost gave a chuckle, but held it back. He thought for a moment before giving the man a long stare. "Indeed, I shall join. My name is Doragon Arashi. Is there a fee to join?" The man nodded. "One ryo." Arashi pulled out one ryo and gave it to him. "Good, I am glad to have another participant. Please, the lady shall accompany you to your room." He then said, waving in Arashi into the mansion.

A second later a rather beautiful woman elegantly walked in and took hold of Arashi's arm. "Oh, another tough guy joining, huh? Well I'll fix you right up." She said, flirting. She led him to a room not far from the main desk and let him take a seat before giving her introduction. "I am glad to have another Samurai to serve, you may call me Roze. I will get anything you wish for. There are also baths right behind that door with robes and if you need any food, saki, or whatever you desire just call my name and I will come right to you. Thank you for coming, enjoy your stay." She slowly closed the door as Arashi gave a small grin, taking off his hat and laying his weapon against the wall. "Fate is a funny thing." He said to himself.

(EDIT: Sorry, I forgot about the whole Edo thing XD, editted )

[LocoColt04]

Originally Posted by Griffith

(I hope you don't mind me saying that the TOA is in Toyko, I just figured since it is the most popular city it would make sense XD.)

Well, I suppose if we HAD to choose cities, then that would probably make sense. All the same, the tournament should be held outside of the city, simply because of the environment I have provided. A large estate somewhere outside of the city would be ideal. It wouldn't make much sense to have rolling plains in the middle of a bustling community, would it? So yeah, let's call it "near" Tokyo.


edit:

Originally Posted by PM from Malevolence

Well, if this is Feudal Japan, and we're trying to figure out a capital, Edo would be the most likely choice. The Tokugawa Shogunate's capital city was Edo, in whcich Edo Castle was situated. Tokyo is a modern name for Edo, but so it's clear, Edo is the name that would have been used up until to Meiji Restoration. Just to be clear, actually, Edo was a few miles northwest of modern Tokyo, and so calling the city Tokyo would not only be a misnomer, but it would also be wrong, since Tokyo hadn't even been built yet. Just a historical note.

A valid point, and one which had slipped my mind a few minutes ago. Feel free to edit your introductions as you see fit.

All references to the name "Tokyo" shall be ignored and considered false information.

[Malevolence]

Takei Masashi had just arrived in Edo the night before, and he had already gotten himself into a bit of a mess with the clan of a daimyo from a neighboring han. A group of samurai hailing from Daimyo Ii’s clan in Ishikawa had arrived only a day before, and were causing trouble in a marketplace when Masashi came through to buy his morning tea. The three boisterous samurai were making a fuss over the price of unagi meat, and generally blowing the situation out of proportion. As a way to show his daimyo’s even-handedness and want to end conflicts, Masashi padded over to the fishmonger’s stall after quickly finishing the rest of his tea.

As he walked over, he asked, politely, “Is there a problem?”

One of the Ii samurai turned abruptly and shoved at Masashi, saying “It’s none of your business, Kaga. Keep out of others’ business you meddling dog.”

Masahi took great offense at the Ii’s disrespect for an obviously higher-ranked samurai, and reached for the hilt of Ki’rin at his side. The rings on the back of the wakizashi jungled as he half-drew the blade from its scabbard, letting the point rest two thirds of the way up the inside of the sheath. The Ii clan samurai immediately responded by doing the same with the swords on their hips, moving into aggressive stances.

Just as it seemed a full on brawl would break out, initiating a blood feud between the Kaga and Ii, the fishmonger cried out, “There will be no fighting at my stall! If you want blood, take your ken somewhere else! Buy the eel at my price or don’t buy it at all. You won’t find a better price, and you won’t find anyone else with this much unagi to sell.” When the four samurai stared dumbfounded at the fishmonger, he said, “Well? Eel or blood? Pick one!” They all stared again for a moment, until Masashi sheathed Ki’rin, which was followed by the three Ii sheathing their blades as well. They exchanged harsh glances, and the Ii bought their unagi and were on their way.

Masashi was about to walk away when the fishmonger called to him, “You! Kaga-san! Why did you come over here and mess with my business?”

Masashi was again dumbfounded for people’s lack of respect in Edo. He replied, “I was trying to help. It apparently didn’t work.”

“You know, they say you get wiser with age,” the fishmonger said as he began chopping at a maguro, “but you seem as dumb as a post. Where did you learn common sense? Were you raised in the mountains or something?”

“Actually, yes, I was.” Masashi was referring to the many years he spent with sohei monks in a Tibetan monastery.

“Oh. Well…get some sense in that tied-up head of yours,” the monger said, gesturing at Masashi’s topknot with a meat cleaver. He then returned to carving up the mackerel and tuna he had laid out on his chopping block, as if Masashi were no longer even standing there. Bewildered, Masashi walked on toward Edo Castle, to find himself lodging for the week in the more upscale parts of Edo. As he neared the center of the city, the buildings became taller and more elaborate, until he found a large lodging-house that would suit his needs for the next month. The building had high tiered roofs, and gold-trimmed doorways – perfect for an ambassador from a daimyo to the shogun. Masashi’s embassage was supposed to span a month, but he had reached Edo from Kaga in less than three days, and had time to kill before his meeting with Tokugawa. After dropping off his belongings in the lodging house, Masashi set off to find himself something to do.

His previous encounter with the Ii had left him itching for a chance to use his skill with a blade again, and seemed to find just the thing when he saw a small piece of rice paper with kanji written in the old style tacked to a wall in an alley. It read “Tournament of Arms. Follow the crow.” As if some forces were conspiring to bring him somewhere, Masashi heard the cawing of a crow off to his left, where a black bird sat perched on a fence. The crow took off over the fence, leading over a giant rice paddy to a small forest. Masashi pulled up the skirts of his traveling cloak, and leapt over the fence into the paddy to follow the bird.

The paddy ended quickly in a bamboo forest that continued for another few hundred yards until it opened up into a small clearing with a ratty, run-down-looking sake house at its center. The chimney puffed a small amount of inviting smoke, and, lightly grasping Tengu’s hilt, Masashi walked in. The inside of the inn was hot and cramped, but manageable. As soon as he entered, a woman came over and asked, “Are you here for the Tournament? Oh, of course you are; why would someone like you – oh my, a Kaga – come to a raggedy looking place like this if it wasn’t for the Tournament.” The woman looked him up and down, and said, “Well, you don’t have anything with you. How do you plan on living? Got only one set of clothes do you?”

Masashi replied, “I’ve already put my belongings in a lodging house in Edo. We have to stay here?”

“Unless you don’t want to be told when you have to be where, yes you have to stay here. We can send someone back to Edo for your things, but we need to get you set up in a room. But first, I need your name, daimyo, and one ryo.”

“Takei Masashi, of Daimyo Kaga,” he said, and deposited an oblong gold coin in the woman’s hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Masahi-san,” the woman said, and bowed, which Masashi returned. She handed Masashi a slip of paper with a room number on it, and said, “My name is Ri’i, and you may call upon me at any time for anything you need until the Tournament begins. I will send the runner to Edo for you now.” Ri’i bowed again, and turned to find a runner for Masashi.

Following the signs to a staircase downward, Masashi found his room at the end of a long hallway. The room was surprisingly well-furnished, and had a sunken window shafted to the surface to let in a good amount of natural light. Masashi disrobed to his dressing kimono, and set Tengu, Ki’rin, his tanto and kusari-gama to on the weapon stands at the far end of the room. He laid down on the blue and gold bed, and rested until he was summoned for his first match.

[Shelus]

Silent at first... the dance is unknown to most, and even unoticed... at first. She paces herself as she cautiously embraces her next step. The crowded streets of the bustling Edo are but a playground for her. The noise of people talking amongst themselves, the scent of delicate foods stretching on pass the stalls from which they were created, the nature that lives around her... all of this is but the melody she dances to. Each step begets a new dance as the enviroment around her changes at whim. Her body is elegant as it makes its way through the masses, without force. Even the weapons that brandish her back remain untouched. She nears her destination, closer and closer... only feet away from the gates of the beautiful mansion, her melody drops.

She now stands with her back to the mansion gate. In her mind... everything becomes silent as she gently lifts her head to catch even the slightest glimpse of whatever has destroyed her melody. Three is the number that dances in her mind now, three thugs... attempting to snatch what seems to be a hard weeks work of groceries from a woman that appears to be much younger than this dancing beauty. Opening her ears to the enviroment once again, she steps forth to assist this younger girl. One thug charges forth with a tanto in his right hand. It becomes bluntly obvious as the first thug makes his first and possibly last mistake. His footwork is too heavy and too far apart for he will now have no way to stop accurately with this slugish charge. A simple and hastey dance is noticed from this experienced dancer as she dances in a circular motion against the thugs charge. Upon being back to back with this simple thug, she takes the hilt of the Genkaku and forces its sheath against his back. Unsheathing the blade while still in the midst of her dance, she haults and stands on the thugs wrist as he lay in shame amongst the pathway.

A small reminder... never attempt to steal from anyone again today... Moshimo!

The unsheathed Genkaku carves a bloody path into three of the thief's fingers, leaving him only with two on his right hand, and a reminder of this day. With swift and almost unoticed agility, she faces the other two thugs, only to see them run away in fear for their fingers. Her gentle hand stretches outward to assist the young girl after she returns the Genkaku to its place of rest. With an utmost thanks in her eyes, the girl takes firm grip of the dnacer's hand as she is offered words of advice. You should always keep company when traveling these streets.

With these words whispered into the childs ear, Genkaku soon realizes that she will be assisted herself... with this girl as her pupil. Little had Genkaku known... this girl is 19 years of age, homeless and barely surviving. Although it might have taken a while, Genkaku had also noticed that the girl is mute... this would not keep her from taking her under her wing. What better way to take care of a child without friends and family? Become the friend, become the family, teach her all there is to know on how to survive in this era.

Her focus is returned to the melody of her surroundings, Although she decides not to dance... instead she patiently walks onward pass the gate while her new pupil trails proudly behind her. Any of the participents of this who had been out in the main hall would notice this slim figure. Although she is 33 years of age, her figure and face are kept up well... maintaining all the beauty it had when she was still living in her earlier twenties.

Arigato... min'na... no tame ni watashi no sonzai koko de

Genkaku shouts to those in ear shot, not really caring as to wether or not she is understood. The young female trails behind Genkaku, carrying her groceries and Genkaku's polearm as they are both shown to the one room which they will both be staying in. Even though a second room would not be allowed for one who is not participating, one is still allowed to have pupils and other such honored guests. Genkaku now meditates upon a dancing technique as the young girl sleeps and for once... begins to dream easy.