[IC] Heiseina: Memories Long Forgotten

[Mcmolly]

---

Mio had been ready to consider this a pleasant, successful interaction. She didn’t get many of those, and while she had never had a conversation with Haruhi end poorly, a part of her was always ready for the possibility. She took the same extra care with the farm girl that she did with Tsubasa and master Tetsu, but it wasn’t beyond her to screw up and cost herself the rare, semi-frequent conversation.

Was she making just that mistake now? It was impossible to tell—she couldn’t remember the last time someone had insisted on her company. The idea seemed almost absurd. People liked Haruhi, had she grown tired of that? A few days publicly hanging around together would surely sour the village’s opinion of her. And maybe whoever Fuyucchi was, just by proxy.

Was it charity? Naiveté? Neither were fair, and a decade spent in this place had taught her to expect the worst of both in the best of circumstances.

“Uhm…”

But what if it was kindness? Was she going to turn that away?

“I’m sorry,” she said, not for her own sake. If it was kindness, then she couldn’t bring herself to inflict those consequences on Haruhi, even at the cost of upsetting her. “Things…break, during the festival. Someone has to stay here to fix them.”

Was that enough? Mio wasn’t stranger to disappointing people, but this felt differently bad. Perhaps that was proof Haruhi was being genuine.

So, a bit hastily she added: “I would like to hear about the fun, though. Tsubasa and master Tetsu always have good stories after. I’m sure you will, too.”

---

Interactions: Haruhi @Lemons

[Supermaxx]

---

The cold of the day scarcely grew more bearable as the day marched on. In the time that had passed since dawn, dark clouds had rolled over the valley to cut off what little light the rising sun offered. The venerable Moriyama complained of aches in his bones- a surefire warning of coming rain. Some within the village placed votive offering papers in their households to the kami of rain to forestall its coming until the celebrations had concluded. Others rushed to ensure their windows were closed and none of their belongings were left to be soaked, fearing its coming regardless: some things were the will of the gods, regardless of the whims of men.

On the western edge of the village, where a handful of logger's camps and hunting lodges meet the edge of the Mumbling Wood, something stirs. Small animals rush from the safety of their dens and into the dirty streets of the village. Birds flee from their nests for distant horizons. Even a handful of Yokai follow, leaping into open windows or scratching and yipping at closed doors for the villagers within. People more curious than afraid peer out of the safety of their doorways into the dark clump of trees.

Hoof beats sound in the dozens. The voices of men, loud and abrasive, bay in similar number. Mounted soldiers break the treeline at a trot. Banners mounted on their backs flap in the wind as they ride: on them, a burning, steel fist on a crimson field. They wear mismatched armor of scavenged scraps, hastily slung together to patch holes in old, worn lamellar. Weapons of all kinds hang from their hips and backs: from clubs, spears and swords to bows, and a handful of long, metal tubes attached to odd handles. Panicked screams filled the air at the sight of these tools of blasphemy. Villagers sprinted away in terror, some headed deeper into town with warning cries on their lips, and others running for the safety of the wilderness. None of the horsemen gave chase. They simply continued down the main avenue, more of their number exiting the treeline to follow. Perhaps twenty men in total rode into Heiseina.

They came to a halt in the center of town before the Crane's Roost Inn. Some dismounted, taking their horses by the reins and making their way toward the pitifully small stables attached to the building. It could barely house half their mounts even if it was empty, and a few visitors from other villages had come in to partake in the celebrations. "This place is a sorrier sight than we thought. Largest village we could find and this is the best they've got? Its barely bigger'n a chicken coop." A giant of a man with a belly big around as a barrel grumbled, loudly.

He pulled a spiked war club nearly as tall as some of the other men around him from its holster on the saddle bags, much to his horse's relief. It was a massive beast itself, yet even still it was a wonder it could carry the man on its back for any time at all. "Where's the damned stable boys? Or in the innkeep, for that matter?" He thundered, his voice booming for all the world to hear. He leaned his impressive weight against the club as he stood beside his horse, waiting impatiently for someone to appear.

Another rider dismounted and left his horse's reins in the hands of another man so he could make his way across the village square. He strode with purpose toward one of the only groups of people still out on the streets. They were milling about around a squat, long structure. The hand-painted sign outside- and the clanging sounds from within- told him it was the shop of a metalworker.

"Good morning," he called out as he allowed himself inside, his voice straining to maintain a polite authority through his exhaustion. The heavy bags beneath his eyes and sweat-slicked forehead even in this chill reinforced this well. He wasn't a particularly tall man, nor was he sweet on the eyes: his face was scarred, his nose slightly crooked, and his expression ever dour. His armor appeared to be in better shape than he was. It had fewer dents and ad-hoc repairs than the rest of his cohort, and was even painted in the same red crimson of his banner, that flaming hand adorned on his chest piece. On his left hip a sword hung from his belt. Simple, unornamented, yet its like had not been seen in the valley for over three hundred years. On his right hip was a leather holster containing an alien device- a metal tube attached to a cylindrical chamber and a curved wooden handle.

"I am Captain Ashida Katsuro of the Blazing Fist," Katsuro bowed slightly in introduction. "I was hoping you could help me."

[Carlyle]

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Upon dropping off Haruhi at the local blacksmith, Takara said her farewells to her friend. There was still preparation for the festival that needed to be done today, so she couldn't stick around for as long as she would've liked.

Grabbing the reins once more, Takara gave Masaru a nudge to head further back into town. Yet just as they began to move, Takara ordered her horse to hold, and listened quietly. The sound of thunderous hooves—lots of them—followed unfamiliar voices equally loud and noisy. Then, the screaming started. Some villagers began to run for shelter, while others shouted out warnings of terror. Of blasphemy. Of weapons of war.

Like all Heiseinans, Takara had heard the stories. She knew them plenty from her father, who had made a point to instill them into her head. Those who committed the highest sin in the valley were exiled, or if they refused to leave, violently ripped apart by Yokai limb from limb. Growing up, it was enough to knock some sense into her as a child, but it had been so long since the last person had been exiled from the village she had no way of knowing whether or not the tales were indeed true. If the stories were as true as the elders said they were...

Grimacing, Takara ordered Masara to pick up some speed, breaking out into a full dash towards their home. She needed to see her father, preferably before any of these supposed "armed men" showed up at the inn.

As she hastily rode through the village, however, Takara was left dismayed at what she saw next. Multiple men in makeshift armor, with crimson banners of a steel fist, stood outside the inn and stable. Each of these men had carried weapons of various sort, from swords and bows to some kind of metal tube-shaped weapon Takara struggled to identify. In the middle of it all, a large, giant man, wielding a terrifying club much taller than Takara, began to loudly voice his thoughts, insulting the place and demanding service like some rowdy guest might've.

The massive club and other weapons had left Takara hesitant to approach. Anyone in their right mind would've steered clear from such fellows, and Takara was no exception. But as the club-wielding man continued to run his mouth, Takara found herself being goaded into approaching the mass of armored men outside her home. She couldn't resist the urge to ride forth, refusing to let the man further spurn the hard work that her parents, especially her mother, had put into the Crane's Roost.

"Right here." Takara announced, putting on a brave face. The men were clearly intimidating, yet she refused to let them see her shiver in fear. "And if you wish to be served, you will keep your unruliness out of my inn."

Perhaps not her best choice of words, but her father's temper had long already taken ahold of Takara.

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Interactions: Onisawa Shigeru @Supermaxx

[Hero]

---

Tsubasa watched Fumiko bow, glad to see her accept. That said, though, he was well aware he wasn't in any state to go help out. Keiko was right, it was probably better to go clean up a little before helping out. Making himself presentable probably wouldn't take too long, though he'd have to take care to dress a little more warmly. Even now, away from the flames, the cold was slowly starting to bite at his exposed skin, crawling through his clothes. Fortunately, Keiko was keeping him warm as she held him close, though he knew he'd eventually have to part from her.

He looked to Keiko to suggest she go ahead and he would meet her there, but the arrival of someone else to the forge interrupted his thoughts. There was a twofold surprise for the group: the first was that it was an entirely unfamiliar face. The village wasn't one that was very welcoming of outsiders that had been here for a while like Keiko, let alone ones that seemingly came out of nowhere. The second was that the man had something strange on his hip. Their elder had very specific requirements about what sorts of tools were to be used and who could use them, but he had never seen anything like that before. The unknown gave him some unease--who this man was and what he wanted were unclear. But a 'captain' meant there were others, weren't there?

Tsubasa gently pried himself out of Keiko's grip, squeezing her arm in what he hoped was assurance. He gave Fumiko a small smile before walking towards the new face, putting himself between him and the other two. Mio, fortunately, was likely in the back and wouldn't poke her head out, he hoped. He could take care of the man's needs quickly and be rid of him sooner than later.

For now, he would hope for the best. "Good morning, and welcome," He greeted the man kindly. "What can I help you with?"

[@Forge Peeps]

[Asura]

SEIMEI KEIKO

_{tags - @Hero@Queen Arya}

---

"Sounds good to me, Tsu-kun!"

The saccharine words on Keiko's tongue felt as foreign as the dazzlingly bright smile she wore to accompany them. It was almost enough for her to want to break her little act and see the taste washed away with her usual irreverence. But the results were far too pleasing for that to come to pass. Though she played at hanging on Tsubasa's every word, the young signkeeper remained acutely attuned to Fumiko's reaction. There was anger at first—a genuine, roiling rage—then surprise, perhaps at the depth of wrath she managed to feel. Surprise quickly became pink-faced embarrassment that flickered for only a few more moments... then the mask returned. The facade that hid away true feelings behind mock serenity and the falsest pleasantries.

Ordinarily, Keiko would disdain that mask. Given what she had glimpsed beneath? There was only smug satisfaction to be had in its wake. She had found a wound and ground all the salt she could gather on such short notice into it. She could relish in that triumph until it soothed her wounded pride.

"Hey, Fumi-chan!"

The triumph was to be short-lived, however. The sound of the village's most blinding beam of sunlight shook her from her reverie moments too late. Had she been more vigilant, she might have managed to decouple from Tsubasa before they were spotted. Her skin all but crawled at the sight of the knowing smile Haruhi shot them and the comment that followed. She wanted nothing more than to end the charade then and there before the sign-adverse farmer got it in her head that they were a proper couple and went trundling around the town declaring it to everyone she could find.

But just as quickly she appeared, she vanished into the ogre's cave beyond, leaving Keiko with little more to do than try to hide how frazzled the potential fallout made her feel.

"Ah, yeah, let's uhm... Let's... get going, Takamori-san?"

The squabbling of youth had occupied Keiko's mind such that she had nearly missed the shift in the environment, swift though it was, until the master's niece invited them to head off. Something had changed very starkly while they feuded over the village's most eligible idiot, and it was not until the hoofbeats of the arriving caravan hit her ears that she found herself recognizing the gravity of the situation. Like most of the village's inhabitants, Keiko watched as the armed convoy of men arrived in their humble home, letting her grip on Tsubasa's arm fall slack as she glanced between every one of them.

The horses they rode. The way they dressed. The... things they held. It was different. All of it was different.

It was foreign.

And that made it feel wrong. The utopia of Heiseina and the valley it claimed had no place for the unusual. Keiko had been made very aware of that all her life. Her eyes instinctively darted toward the direction they had rode in from. There weren't any hamlets she knew of down that way. No homestead could house so many men and their steeds. All that lay in that direction, far off through the forests and mountains beyond was the edge of the world itself—the old gate that she had only glimpsed from afar.

Her heart skipped a beat as she reconciled with that idea. That the rough-looking man who approached the humble forge had an origin from beyond.

Tsubasa was the first to act, dear, sweet fool that he was. Had her grip not slackened, she might have tried to hold fast to him to keep him from so readily approaching the danger before them. But instead, he disentangled himself from her reach and met the older gentleman with all the confidence in the world. Resisting the urge to curse under her breath, she was left with a choice. Remain, and see how things played out, or follow her instinct and hurry back to her tower home to warn her mother of the storm to come.

Perhaps to her detriment, curiosity won the day.

[webboysurf]

_{Tags: @Feyblue @mickilennial}

---

Kenichi couldn't recall a time he had ever joined Oyuki on a walk through the village... or anyone, for that matter, in some time. Except for the occasional excursion when Fumiko would practically drag him out of the house to make sure he got some sun, Kenichi didn't spend much time with anyone who wasn't under his family's care. It was nice to just walk and talk... though, even Kenichi could tell the conversations were dying out quickly. His responses to Oyuki's attempts at small talk were efficient. Talk of the weather and the festival didn't elicit much from the physician's assistant: it was cold, and he didn't have any plans for the festival. He knew, with each curt response, that he must be souring the mood for her. He hadn't prepared to talk much... and besides, his mind was still winding through the cryptic purpose to their business. Whatever this business was, it had to be of some import.

Oyuki had apologized several times, which Kenichi always batted away with a simple "This is no trouble at all." But as she apologized a third time in front of the elder's manor, he took a step towards her and held her gaze, maneuvering himself to make eye contact. "Lady Oyuki, I am happy to provide assistance or insight if I am able. What you have asked of me is no trouble." He gave a soft, reassuring smile, before his ears picked up on approaching footsteps.

Kenichi's eyes locked on to the familiar dark hair of Chiasa, the tinkerer's apprentice, as she approached. Her expression was even, as always, and Kenichi's smile dropped to match the gravity by which she carried herself. He straightened himself up a little, taking a step away from Lady Oyuki and clearing his throat awkwardly. The elder's son was taking his time. Kenichi gave a short, polite bow of greeting as Chiasa approached. "Ah, good morning... do you have business with Elder Takamori as well, Fujiwara?"

[Lemons]

---

"Aww, if you say so. I'll see if I can bring you some food, 'kay?"

Haruhi's mouth opened to continue talking...then abruptly snapped shut again with alarming speed as she heard shouting in the street, followed by someone new arriving. And not someone that hadn't been at the forge before; she probably wouldn't have even stopped talking, were that the case. Someone...new.

"I am Captain Ashida Katsuro of the Blazing Fist." A pause. "I was hoping you could help me."

She didn't recognize his voice. She didn't recognize his name. She didn't recognize the organization he was part of. And hey, she was nothing if not friendly, she backed slightly away from Mio and poked her head out of the shop interior, preparing to go out and greet him. Though...she didn't recognize what he was carrying with him, either. She'd spent her whole life working with tools, more--she wagered--than most others in the valley because of her stubborn refusal to use Signs. She could tell the purpose of pretty much any tool on sight; a pick for breaking rocks, a kama for harvesting grain, an axe for splitting wood, a shovel for digging, a hoe and a plow for tilling the soil...

...She couldn't tell what this was, or what it did. But for some reason she didn't understand, looking at it sent a searing blast of anxiety and...terror racing up her spine like ice. As her mind stuttered and stopped and she nearly tripped over herself as she changed course from approach to retreat, she shrank away, stumbling backwards deeper into the shop and unable to take her eyes off of whatever the thing was that was in front of her. She dropped the hoe in her hand with a loud clatter and tipped over, falling to the hard floor with a muffle sound of surprise and pain.

---

Interactions: Mio @McMolly

[Yankee]

---

While Fumiko hurried out to get some help (or, perhaps, to escape any further teasing), Sumiko watched her leave and shook her head fondly. She hoped the best for that girl, she really did. Hopefully her crush panned out for her, a new beau just might be able to convince her to relax and have some fun without worrying about her responsibilities for a change.

"Phew~" Sumiko fanned herself with her hand after all of the boxes were packed and piled on the veranda. The cold air cooled her down quickly, and she gathered as many things into her arms as she could carry and set out for the village square where the festivities were to happen. She wasn't concerned about leaving the rest of it where it was on her doorstep - no one in town would mess with it, and if Fumiko returned before she did, the other girl would know where to bring it. If nothing else she could rely on Fumiko keeping her word and returning with the rest of the items.

Her pace was leisurely and she hummed as she walked, peeking out from around her burden to make sure she didn't crash into anyone or anything. There was a warm, happy feeling bubbling up in her chest as the morning wore on that easily chased out the season's lingering chill. She was just so excited to dance again. The festival was her absolute favorite time of year.

She envisioned the scene she would set. First, underneath the kimono she would wear a light robe of pale pink, the collar of which was sure to poke out from beneath the more elaborate garment. The folded silk flower she planned to wear in her hair was of the same color, and secured from the bottom blue and white beads of glass dripped down like melting ice. The earrings she already had on featured the same look, both accessories standing out all the more due to her snow white hair. The final glass piece would be secured to the front of her obi as the obidome, run through by a tight white cord and "melted" by the sunrise on her sleeve. Yes, the kimono itself was the star of this outfit - hand crafted for this festival a few years ago by Heiseina's very own half priestess, half seamstress to invoke the awakening of Miorochi. The backdrop was practically brand new - it was what she'd been inspired to repaint, so it would be a fresh look for the familiar performance. Bright colors forming a rainbow of sunlight clawing its way over the horizon, staining the snow with signs of spring. At its edges, vibrant plant life curled into the scenery.

The dance itself was one she'd practiced many times since she was a small girl. She knew each step by heart, and every time she performed it was as wonderful as the last. Miorochi-sama, please enjoy this year's performance as well, she thought to herself, glancing at the mountains in the near distance.

A shrill cry drew her attention away. Sumiko was practically at the stage area already, so she hurried the rest of the way and hastily set the baskets down onto it. She flicked her gaze up in the direction the commotion was coming from as the noises grew louder. Then came the people, scared and headed in the direction of the Takamori estate. Where else could they be going in such a panic? Following behind them was the beat of hooves, the low groaning of voices, and the clink of metal.

If they were normal out of town visitors, the people wouldn't be so fear stricken. Sumiko went in the opposite direction, towards the disturbance, and when she found it she was struck by the same fear that had sent others running - but instead she was frozen in place. Weapons? Armor? The kind of things that existed only tales of the past were right in front of her. The strange men stopped riding, dismounting in front of the inn.

Eh? At Benjiro-ojisan's place? Sumiko couldn't help it, she forced her feet to move and quietly got closer. Who were these people, why were they here? On today of all days...

She wasn't particularly well hidden, across the street from the inn and peering out from behind a few crates. She pulled a parchment from her yukata, sketching the banners the men were carrying while her mind whirled. She'd been everywhere in the valley, she was sure of it, but she'd never encountered anything like this. The symbol was completely unfamiliar. And the... weapons... her sick fascination was quickly becoming just sickness. Sumiko placed a hand gingerly over her mouth. They weren't going to hurt Benjiro, were they? She wasn't particularly close with him for a number of reasons, but she'd hate to see him (or any of the villagers) hurt. But it wasn't Benjiro that came to greet the strangers, it was his daughter.

"Takara?!" Sumiko hissed to herself, eyes wide as the younger woman strode up on her prized steed.

[Supermaxx]

---

Katsuro raised a brow at the curious lot gathered in the smithy. A gaggle of local village children, it seemed, with the shopkeeper nowhere in sight. They froze where they stood. He must've looked a fox to this nest of rabbits with the way their eyes glistened with fear. Off to the side he caught sight of a dirt-stained woman shrinking into a back room. Another stood off to the side, muscles coiled like a snake ready to strike. Those trepidatious first moments of silence were broken by a tall, pale boy beside the forge. His attire suggested this was his place of business, yet Ashida couldn't hide his amusement at the idea that this pretty waif of a boy was a metalworker.

Despite his looks, the boy was polite. Katsuro ought to reciprocate.

"We've traveled a great distance to get to your...humble village. It has been many months since a proper smith attended to our equipment. We'll need horseshoes, nails, hatchets. Many of our blades are dulled as well."

He untied the sheathe and pulled it out of his belt. Holding it out before Tsubasa, Katsuro revealed a few inches of the blade. The uchigatana was clearly well-worn, its edge dulled from lack of care. The metal itself was not of any particular quality; even the basic tools within the shop were made of higher grade iron than this. Whoever had forged it had likely recycled old pig iron from pots and broken tools and the like to form its brittle core.

Re-sheathing the weapon, Ashida pushed it into Tsubasa's hands and continued to speak: "Does your village have a lord, or an elder you look to for leadership? I need to negotiate our stay here for the time being while we comb the valley for our prize." The weariness that had plagued him since he stepped into the shop seemed to subside for a moment, overtaken by a covetous excitement that shone like fire in his eyes. "You lot ought to count yourselves lucky. You will see our liberation from the demon's yolk first hand."

--

Outside the Crane's Roost Inn, more than a dozen armed and armored soldiers stood still as the grave. All eyes were on the new arrival: a young woman in riding leathers atop a horse of her own. She'd ridden up before Shigeru and answered his boisterous demands with one of her own. The tension running through the village square was palpable. Hands hovered near the hilts of weapons in rapped anticipation, as if one wrong move might bring eighteen blades flying from their sheathes. The air itself seemed to hiss with the possibility of violence- the cold gripping all present like an unspoken threat.

The giant raised his head ponderously toward the squeaking of some angry little mouse. A country girl on a sickly-looking mule had ridden up before Shigeru, defiance burbling in her throat. The surprise on the big man's face was clear as day. He hadn't expected anyone in this backwater to give him lip. But a little girl? It was so absurd he couldn't muster his rage. All he could manage was an ugly, barking laugh. It came from so deep in his belly he nearly stumbled over his own club and fell on his ass. A few of his cronies joined in with laughter of their own, though it was colored with an undercurrent of nervousness.

"What queer sort've place 'ave we found ourselves in, where grown men cower in their hovels while little girls stand their ground?" Shigeru asked between dwindling chuckles. "They even give 'em whole inns o' their own! Ha! Fine, fine."

Onisawa Shigeru gave an exaggerated bow. "You 'ave my deepest apologies, little inn-master," he rumbled. Even his 'speaking voice' could drown out most people's shouts. "I did not mean to offend. I do so 'umbly request that you fetch oats for our horses and sake for our bellies..."

There was a sudden burst of movement as Shigeru lurched toward the rider, reaching one of his massive hands up toward her shoulder to grab at her. He intended to snatch the girl from her saddle and toss her into the mud at his feet.

"Or I'll introduce yer outsides to yer insides."

[Asura]

SEIMEI KEIKO

_{tags - @Maxx@Hero@Queen Arya@Lemons@McMolly}

---

It had always been Keiko's way to be observant. Despite the reputation she had cultivated in the village as a troublemaker, despite her mother's scolding whenever she shirked her lessons, she was a perceptive young woman. When her interest was piqued by something, little managed to escape her notice.

It went without saying that the terse standoff outside the village's smithy thoroughly piqued her interest. Though dread still roiled about in the pit of her stomach—or perhaps because of it—she hung off every word that left Ashida Katsuro's mouth. If they had not been tended to by a smith for months at a time, there was no doubt to be had as to their origin. They came to the village from someplace outside the valley, and perhaps more importantly, wherever they came from was a significant enough distance away that their equipment had fallen into disrepair in the meanwhile.

She might've allowed her mind to race through the possibilities. How did they locate the village? Had they come through the gate or found another way in? How had they managed to get the gate open? What was the world like beyond those fragile utopias like the one she had called home for so many years? Were there other valleys like Heiseina's own in the world they had discovered? Perhaps most importantly, what had become of those valleys?

The questions came to a halt as the glint of steel caught her eye. The item held so gingerly in Katsuro's hands was an uneasy sight. It resembled the tools some of the village's hunters used while performing their sacred duties. Given its length, she doubted it was used to dispatch humble wildlife. Keiko's unease grew.

Impulsive as she was wont to be, she struggled to maintain her deathly stillness. The conversation had nothing to do with her in particular: they stood in Tetsu's forge, requests being made for his apprentice's work. The man did not seek Seimei Tomo, but the village's headman. She had little reason to stay. The signkeeper's apprentice considered how she might plot her escape in the waning moments between the man's request and his eyes igniting like so many embers.

And with his words, her escape became less a nervous desire and more a sudden need. Every ounce of willpower the young lady had in her body dedicated itself to restraining the expressive orbs that were her eyes into indifference. Liberation from the demons? A prize in the valley? The dread that had filled her sunk into her stomach like a gaping pit as her mind pieced together just what the party of armed men before them wanted.

She had to talk to her mother. She needed to talk to her mother. Everything else was secondary.

"Uhm, well, that all sounds very important," The trickster's nature in her bubbled to the surface as Keiko donned the same innocuous guise she had in the moments before their Blazing Fist's arrival, which had grated at Fumiko so, "Maybe it's for the best if I clear out. I had only come by to keep Tsu-kun company, but it seems he's going to have his hands full..."

With a bashfulness in her cheeks, she placed her hands on her lap, offering a polite bow to the older gentleman in a show of courtesy.

"I wish you luck in the endeavors that bring you here, Ashida-sama."

[Mcmolly]

---

Mio smiled, but a part of her was sad to have given up so easily. She’d become so accustomed to spending these festivals alone that, the idea of not only attending, but attending with company seemed so strange, so outlandish, but also so enticing. She knew better of course, but she couldn’t shake feeling that she ought to have put up more of a fight—not with Haruhi, just with herself.

It didn’t matter though, shortly after, a strange voice filled the front of the smithy. Mio didn’t pay it much mind; most of the village spoke to her as little as possible, and she wagered she knew only a handful of voices well enough to remember. Haruhi’s curiosity however was piqued, and like an observant squirrel, poked her head out of the back to see. That didn’t last long. She retreated almost immediately, so suddenly that she dropped the freshly-fixed hoe—which thankfully held up to the fall—and tripped over herself.

Mio wasn’t the fastest person in the village, but when you worked with hot metal and roaring flames, it paid in flesh to have good reflexes. With a lurch she caught Haruhi by the arm as she fell, and held her without much trouble; the young farmer was toughened by a life of hard labor—made notably harder by her own self-imposed limits—but was still smaller, and nowhere near as heavy as the anvils and steel pipes and pallets of work that Mio moved around on the daily.

Of course, once she’d pulled Haruhi upright, she realized she was not only touching her, but grabbing her. When was the last time she’d grabbed anyone? Haruhi’s arm was…well, not quite thin thanks to her farmwork, but Mio could feel flesh and muscle yielding under her fingers, felt, she thought, pulse and bone deeper down. She’d bent metal rods thinner than this with her bare hands.

How would Haruhi bend?

Mio breathed sharp, and let the girl go with mortified shock.

“Sorry,” she muttered, mind threatening to tilt into a whirl of guilt and self-loathing. She was spared only by the reminder that they had guests—guests who had, apparently, spooked Haruhi.

Peering out into the smithy, she took stock of the crowd. Keiko was still here, along with Fumiko and, of course, Tsubasa, who was face to face with their guest. He was…well, even Mio could recognize that he was a stranger here; scarred and weathered like beaten leather, he wore an outfit of metal over his clothes, painted red with a fiery hand on his chest.

He handed Tsubasa what could only be described as a weapon. It made Mio’s heart race in a dangerous way, as did the strange device at his other hip. She listened to him speak about a lord, about negotiations—he said 'we' which surprised her, how many were there?—and then about—

About…

Who was this man? She peeled her eyes away from the things he held, looked to the others. Over the years she’d become very good at picking up people’s discomfort, even, and especially, when they tried to hide it, whether out of politeness or fear. To Mio, this looked like fear. Keiko especially seemed to be angling for a retreat, and for a moment she wondered if their guest would let her leave.

She decided not to wait to find out.

“One moment,” she said quietly to Haruhi. She didn’t want to leave the girl alone, but she also wasn’t sure if it was best she follow. In the end, she decided to trust Haruhi’s instincts, which were surely much sharper than her own.

Mio made her way out into the smithy proper, emerging from the smoke and shadows to stand with Tsubasa. She tried to make a subtle barrier between the man and Keiko, who she hoped would take the opportunity to slip away, and studied the stranger in silence.

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Tags: @Lemons @Asura @Hero @Maxx @Queen Arya

[Queen Arya]

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The arrival of the new man stole away any thoughts Fumiko might've had on events mere moments before. His armor, the sword, and that strange device on his other hip sent a wave of unease and terror ripping through her form. Her face almost seeming to pale for a second as she realized that she did not recognize this man, and the combination of all these issues caused a deep worry in her gut. Yet, Fumiko knew that dealing with strangers such as this was a responsibility that would likely one day be hers. Even so, she found herself frozen in place and watching as Tsubasa stepped forward and seemed to intercept the man. An action that sent a feeling of shame through her form, as she turned her attention to the ground. It took a few moments, and a very pointed ignorance of Keiko's words, to get herself back under control.

Her eyes widened as she saw the sword being unsheathed, and something within her stirred Fumiko into action. Stepping forward in front of both Tsubasa and Mio, the girl offered a polite bow towards the man. At the same time, she spread a practiced and diplomatically warm expression across her features. Her voice remained even, yet welcoming, as she finally spoke. "Perhaps I might be able to help with that, Captain Katsuro." She said softly, in response to his question about the village elder. "I can take you to the village elder, however I am afraid I must make a request of you in return." She said, drawing herself into a practiced stance to subtly project a small hint of authority. Gesturing then toward the weapon in its sheath, she spoke once more. "Such tools as that are strictly forbidden in our village. If I could request that you leave it with the mounts I assume you arrived upon, at least until after we've met with the Elder, we would all be much obliged." She said softly, looking at him with a gentle expression

Fumiko only hoped that he wouldn't be able to see the slight shake in the arm held back to hopefully be out of his view. In the white knuckle grip she had tucked the fist at the end of that arm into. A way to contain her nerves so she could project the persona of calm, diplomatic ease that she was trying to portray.

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Tags: @Lemons @Asura @Hero @Maxx @Mcmolly

[Lemons]

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For a brief moment after Mio stopped her from falling and helped her up, the two of them just stared at each other, and Haruhi became keenly aware of how much taller than her Mio was.

Then Mio jerked away with a "sorry," and, stare-off broken, Haruhi jerked, then blinked in confusion. Sorry? Sorry for what? She'd saved Haruhi from bonking her head on the floor, if anything Haruhi should be apologizing to her. So...what? But before she could ask, Mio poked her head out into the forge, observed what was going on. Haruhi would normally want to be there looking out as well--her curiosity was a powerful force indeed--but more powerful was that feeling of apprehension and fear she'd felt, enough to make her sick. So instead she slumped up against the wall, still breathing heavily, and trying to calm herself down. She lifted her hands up in front of her, staring at them as they trembled. She'd never felt anything like that before.

"One moment."

Haruhi's head jerked up to find Mio stepping out of the smithy where they stood, and out into the open air. A moment later and she was lost to view. A part of Haruhi wanted to go out and see what she was doing, but just the thought of going towards the man--what was it, Katsuro?--sent another bolt of lightning through her. So no, she would be in here until he left, she decided. She didn't know what he was carrying, what it did. The voices she heard--Keiko and Fumiko, it seemed--didn't seem nearly as spooked as she was, so maybe it wasn't that big a deal; but Haruhi trusted her instincts, and whatever it was, if it elicited that level of fear from her, it was probably best to keep away from both him and it.

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Interactions: Mio @McMolly Fumiko @Queen Arya Keiko @Asura

[Hero]

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Tsubasa wasn't all that surprised at the man's amusement--his father gave him the same look often, and likely for the same reason. However, the more the man spoke, the less Tsubasa liked what was said. They were here from afar, it seemed. Nothing he wanted would be any issue and there likely wouldn't be any need to bother the Master. Less so if everything they had was made from the same quality of metal as the blade the captain presented. Of course, Tsubasa knew his uncle would get angry if he wasn't made aware of what was happening. Captain Katsuro didn't offer the strange thing at his hip, either, much to his relief.

He took the weapon without protest, figuring that the sooner the request was made, the faster they would leave. Then again, he continued to talk again, and Tsubasa outright frowned. They were hunting for something, it seemed, but he couldn't imagine the elder being okay with any outsiders lingering around. The town would get restless, too--it was supposed to be a time for celebration, not tension. The excitement in the captain's eyes was confusing to him until it was revealed what he was hunting: a demon.

There was no hiding Tsubasa's surprise at this reveal. Were they mad? The captain was excited about such a thing? But where was this confidence coming from? Swords could only do so much. Either there were many more than Tsubasa anticipated, or they had some sort of power--Wait, was the thing on his waist a weapon? There were too many things he didn't know and he wasn't sure what direction to go, either.

Keiko's intention on departing snapped him out of his thoughts. He was torn between giving Keiko praise for rightfully getting away and getting worried. Mio had quietly appeared next to him, likely having heard everything. And then Fumiko decided that she would lead the captain to the elder. Not that there was anything better suited, but the idea didn't sit well with him. The man was clearly dangerous, and he wasn't sure how he would treat Fumiko or the elder. He also wasn't sure how the captain would respond to Fumiko's request. He held onto the sword, watching the man intently.

"I'll go with you as well. I need to fetch the Master so that we may service everything to help you and your men find your prey quickly," He stated, holding the sword out for Mio to take.

[@Forge Peeps]