Blackfeather Woods 赤

kaede too has heard the ravens.

their voices draw her along emerald-grassed paths, where others have trod.

she pauses to examine, sunlight and shadow barring her body as slow touch extends for the prints left behind in soft dirt.

what drives her is silence. she looks for it in the wind, in the harsh sound of the blackfeathered birds cawing overhead.

he has broken away from shinjou, once more. seeking silence in the beauty of the woods they travel through. sending a nose to the wind to inhale two thick gusts of the drifting smells.
evergreen. wild onion. then—feminine. a scent that does not usually perk masa's attention, but his face is colored intrigued.
he turns on four deft paws and begins a long trek through the blackfeather woodlands, traipsing with tall legs and a head high.
seeking out the woman and stopping a respectful distance of her, probing with dull eyes and a monotone countenance.

shadows do not hide her from eyes that seek. kaede does not run.

forepaw is placed back down.

they regard one another. kaede finds him inscrutable, and for all that his eyes do not say, his body proclaims.

it is a warrior's body, scarred and shaped. she is able to see this despite the fact he does not move.

kaede offers a formal bow.

a bow is given.
masa inclines his head in return. honor due. she gives respect and she shall receive it back; in terms of the samurai she sees before her.
he seeks to judge the soul within. taking a step closer, his stride long. speaking words practiced, time and time again:
i am masa of the akashita clan, a gruff voice of onyx. first sword to lord hikone. his rightful son.

the black knife speaks, and it is partially in words that kaede comprehends.

she keeps herself lowered, understanding through title and rank that he was someone of import.

perhaps the ravens have called them together. perhaps he had been compelled to search for her.

it is a pretty thought, kaede thinks. and it has been a long time she has allowed herself anything beautiful.

"akashita masa. sworn to hikone. i am lady kaede of tamayo forest."

was there any worth to holding onto that title? and still she could not let it go; like sap it clung to her fur.

his ears twitch faintly at the sound of his name on her lips. spoken not in bastardized syllables, but in the tongue of his culture.
you speak the ancestor's tongue. masa drops his head once more, dipping deep before her—especially to know that she is a lady of high stature. compelled into a deep bow, forelegs folding beneath.
a pause as he inhales and shows himself before her. a samurai kneeling before beauty and prestige.
you honor me with your name, lady kaede of tamayo forest.

aha.

at last they see one another.

the lady accepts his low bow in quiet grace, offering only the smallest wan smile when their eyes meet again. "it is comforting to have found you, masa-sama."

kaede is not a samurai. those arts do not belong to her.

but there is more than one way to be powerful, and that eclipses whatever bloodline to which she has been born.

akashita masa does not press. she is lady, and that is all kaede needs to be.

softly she steps to his side. "who do you serve?" what encampment reared its head here? she did not want to walk longer, though she was more than able.

as bid, he rises. watching with eyes now less cold as she comes to his side, closer, and he feels her breath upon his dark feather fur.
masa drawing breath to answer her questions, obediently. my blade still answers to my father’s command. i trail a bounty; a woman who has committed crimes against my clan and must be brought to justice.
his eyes speak to say that there is more to the story than just that, though. but it is shoved aside, quickly, as he moves to walk, leading kaede-sama to where he left shinjou and lorroakan. but one they call the moonwoman of moonglow has given me a directive i must follow first: in thanks for her hospitality. we return to her now to complete the contract and move on.
samurai shinjou hirohiko, a vassal of my father, and a boy not of our people called lorrokan stay with me. he says. thus they are sworn to you now. i wish you to wield my katana for your uses.
is it a sudden decision? or is masa right to see in this woman something whole? something more honorable of a leader, than he might ever be? let us be sword and wielder, kaede-sama. co-leaders?

so she has been mistaken; hikone is his father, not his lord. 

akashita masa, out of akashita hikone. he walks with purpose and she sets her feet directly in the faint marks left by his own.

he has a bounty and a directive, masa calls it.

the samurai is bold, almost presumptuous. perhaps in their world he might be, but here these aspects make him decisive, someone to be followed.

and two already do.

kaede lowers her eyes. "i am not a samurai, masa-sama." her blades are hidden. low. sharp; silver glinting in folds of blue silk.

her blades are not for hire.

"i will stay with you and your men, if you will have me. maybe i can be of use in this place of moonglow." it is a hard offer to make, and one dangerous. kaede gives these words all the same.

not a samurai, she says.
masa glances sidelong, the faintest twitch of ear acknowledging her words—but he does not seem deterred.
and the boy is no samurai. he says with a shrug of muscled shoulders. the group that gathers more with each day is not typical.
he steps where the land softens, leaving clearer prints for her to follow. moonglow will honor your presence. they are peaceful, spiritual. and his tone suggests he is not either of those things. but their leader is wise. she gave me shelter when i had none. i repay her now.
he pauses as they draw nearer to where he left the others. then we continue the hunt. a glance shared. you are welcome beside me for as long as you wish it, kaede-sama.

feel free to tag her w everyone else! <3

peaceful and wise, this woman would be. the samurai speaks of spirits and offered her a place at his side while they went after his bounty.

lady kaede gives up another unassuming smile which promises nothing.

she would rather not ply an expected skill among men. that too, is not among her set of abilities.

to be a chameleon, however, is her milieu. attaching herself to rough warriors of her own people is a more appealing happenstance than wandering alone.

and so behind masa-sama she trails, head down in what might appear demureness but what is moreso a pointed, unwavering observation.