Thread: The Way of the Samurai

One foot in front of the other, slowly, achingly, the rounin trudged onward, his white tabi socks darkened with dirt from hours of travel with no rest. The ache in his feet had long ago faded into a dull, throbbing but incessant pain but more obvious than that was the lack of one of the most important necessities of life. He closed his eyes and for a moment his pace was broken, if only to allow a wave of nausea to pass, the head rush, and once the pain behind his bespectacled eyes faded he continued. I must find some clean water, he murmured to himself, turning his head in the direction of the town he had chosen to bypass earlier but could no longer afford to do so. And a place to rest.. He had taken his chances with water from a stream some days ago and suffered a severe bought of diarrhea for days after and could no longer afford to go without. The town was one he was familiar with, so he knew which shops to avoid due to an unpaid tab from previous visits. He weaved through the crowd, his pace neither rushed nor particularly slow, his head adorned in a straw hat lowered slightly to keep the sun from his fair skinned face. The hand not kept habitually on the katana at his waist dug discreetly in the pocket of his hakama to finger the coins that remained from his last job, knowing full well that he could afford at least a cup of tea if he so desired it, but in exchange would not be able to buy even a bowl of plain rice. He would have to make a decision, and he would have to have nourishment if he was to continue he had grown thinner, his clothes hung from his body differently and he had to keep his clothes tied more tightly. He made his way through a stagnant crowd by pushing through the immobile bodies with a murmured apology and an apologetic bowed head the falsely submissive stance put off people who may have otherwise objected to his passing. As he neared the front of the gathering an aggressive onlooker began shouting at the men assaulting a girl who assumed worked for the teashop they stood before she was being harassed, it seemed, by some faceless thugs. He swept his dark eyes across the scene dismissively, his policy to be strictly uninvolved in matters that would surely involve fighting and the authorities. Her cries went unrecognized as he brushed passed, a grunt in the direction of the assailants. He found the occupants of the teahouse distracted by the ruckus outside aside from a ragged man at a corner tablet, the style of dress alone making him nonchalantly take a double take, his long black pony tail swinging around his face. His glasses caught a stray beam of sunlight and were momentarily illuminated as he arched one dark brow, his expressionless features taking on a look of amusement. The moment passed. The cries outside grew louder as the situation grew more heated and the owners of the shop quaked with worry for the girl outside. Oh, that poor girl, one of them murmured. There was no server to offer him a drink, so Jin took the moment to remove his hat, and rest it upon a vacant tabletop, a swift flick of the wrist sent it skittering across the smooth surface until it came to a stop inches from Mugens elbow. The samurai was staring towards the window, looking out, observing. He spoke in the young mans direction without actually looking at him, his mouth barely moving, his hand more actively wrapped around the blue and white patterned kamon, the white diamonds on the hilt flashing as he moved through the bar of uninfiltrated afternoon sunshine. Hm. You have not changed a bit. He was actually referring to the both of them.