Blackfeather Woods Lightning

he breathes in her words, searches his mind for any name like it.

when nothing surfaces that might prompt a duel, a maiming, or bloodshed owed, his eyes close and he gives the woman a small bow of his chin. something of an appeciative gesture rather than a full, respectful, extending of the neck or throat as a samurai might to a lord.

ushiyo is—was, my family name. i am kikyo; second-son to the long dead daimyo, sadasane. in a way he was reciprocating. name, home, titles—such was the way of their world. even road-wearied kikyo found solace in propriety.

...beyond, in this forest, there are samurai. he says this plainly; this is an explanation for his directness, his being there. a further sentiment lingers as an undercurrent: i know why i am here, but why are you?

perhaps like lady kaede, she is here for the men.

perhaps like kikyo, she is here because of blood.