Snowforest Taiga akushū

Masa?
All welcome as always!

All the surrounding lands reeked of the beast, the potent musk thick in the air. Many seemed eager to affirm their presence in the area, and Shinjou was not one to question their legitimacy. He cared little for the land itself—his focus was on titles and, perhaps, a little too much on the finer pleasures of life. But now, having pledged his allegiance to his lord, Masa, the island warrior had no choice but to honor his oath and avoid falling back into his old ways.

Yet one question relentlessly gnawed at him: What could his lord possibly be doing in these wretched lands? What was their mission? What, in the end, had Shinjou truly committed himself to?

Head bowed, ears lost in his black fur, and brows furrowed in frustration, Shinjou muttered under his breath—a series of barely discernible growls to anyone who spoke his language—as he cursed every one of his life choices. What awaited him today? Was Masa-dono even in the vicinity? He had a gift for disappearing as quickly as frost melts beneath the warmth of the sun...

as always, he moved like mist—silent, slow, inevitable. from behind a crag of wind-carved stone, he emerged, casting his long shadow over the warrior like the passing of a cold front. his gaze bore downward, cool and devoid of humor.
you speak to yourself often, he murmurs, flatly, in observation. he comes to stand beside shinjou, his head turning slowly to scan the vast, beast-tainted wild.
these lands are where the gods have scattered her. he does not speak her name—won’t. the taste of it is still bitter on his tongue. i must finish what i have undone. is this what you wonder?
masa turns, feeling the lingering shadow of @Lorroakan. casting narrowed eyes on the boy. come, lorroakan. this is shinjou, sworn to my service.
now to shinjou. we go west past the mountains. i must report to the one they call moonwoman.

That was the great flaw of samurai, nobles, and warriors of his homeland—they cloaked themselves in enigma, speaking in half-truths while wielding a brutal, almost feral honesty. Who was he speaking of?

Shinjou merely flattened his ears, more out of perplexity than anger or frustration. To serve lords, to swear allegiance, was to accept such a life—to follow without understanding, to march onward despite the veil of mystery, for he was but a single pawn in a vast game of Go.

And now, the man in black had summoned another. Lorroakan—a name as strange as the unseen presence it invoked. Shinjou narrowed his eyes, searching for the silhouette of this unknown figure. Another spectral warrior? One so adept that he remained hidden until the moment he struck? The hooded man could scarcely contain his anticipation—he longed to see him emerge from the shadows…

ever since masa had reluctantly agreed for ro to follow, the skittish boy had made an excellent shadow. soft but clumsy footsteps always a gentle cadence that trails the reaper, a presence always lingering not too far. he wouldn't stray—for he feared that madwoman still! 

lingering within the cover of underbrush, gentle eyes of citrine watched masa and an unfamiliar man converse. his head tilts—where they friends? does masa even have any friends? they speak of a mountain and a moonwoman, before masa is calling for him. 

foliage parts to reveal the meager man, shifty eyes flitting between masa and the stranger, who stares upon him expectantly. with a nervous smile and a flick of his tail he says, "hi, it is a pleasure to meet you." with a quick bow of his head, before he's slinking over to join masa's side.

"what is this plan?" he asks tentatively. he doesn't expect to be answered.

Oh no, Ro ;u;
I'm so sorry that all of my characters are horrible with him xD

That was a joke, wasn’t it? He was scarcely more muscular than a starving courtesan—frail, unsteady, tottering on those spindly stilts he called legs. He was not the spectral warrior Shinjou had envisioned, yet he bore its hue: pale.

お会いできて光栄です、若きLorroakan He inclined his head but did not deign to speak the common tongue for such a wisp of a man.

では、準備ができました、マサ殿。お供いたします He turned to his lord, striving to mask the disdain he harbored for the pitiful creature forced upon their company.