Predator's Prayer: Sun Doesn't Rise

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Whenever I climb I am followed by a dog called 'Ego'. "
- Friedrich Nietzsche

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Look. Look, Tatsu, like at this thing of arrogance. What do you think, ehhh? A ronin?" Tetsunosuke's eyes gleamed as he stared at the back of the black clad man in front of them, grinning with flushed cheeks and setting his cup down with a sharp snap. He nudged his oldest friend gently in the ribs, and the other man chuckled lowly. Though they'd both been born in villages five miles apart, the two were so alike they could have been twins. Even their names were sometimes mixed up. Tatsunosuke squinted, brushing black hair out of his eyes.

"No, no. He's too shabby. Even a ronin would have some pride in himself. He looks like a wanderer. He stole that sword off a corpse. I bet two silver on it." In front of them, eyes as sharp and bright as the coins the two were wagering were set upon the Shirayama Mountains in the distance, their peaks hidden in a thick, milky white mist. It was the cold, the coming winter, he imagined, though it was hard to use that imagination with the two idiots blathering drunkenly behind him. It was beginning to become more difficult to ignore them. He had zero, to no patience at all to begin with, and the god awful stench coming off them was just making it worse. It was something no one else in the small restaurant could detect but him - he could tell by the gratingly friendly way they were all carrying on.

"Look at that sword, Tetsu. Its too fine a blade for such a filthy thing to have. Think he stole it?" Tatsu chuckled, arrogance creeping into his gossip. He leaned back with his oldest friend, and both grinning, it was hard to tell the men apart, regardless of their heritages. Indeed, their paths were so intertwined that they'd sought the same careers at the royal palace. The one on the left, Tetsu, stood with a grunt and circled around the man, stopping before him, staring at him.

"Yeah. Two silver that he stole it." The man's grey eyes snapped away from the mountain range and glared at the drunk man. He was already in a foul mood - sake, no matter the quality, always tasted like crap to him, and he still wasn't pleased about being forced into something he wanted nothing to do with. Damn mystic....

"No, look Tatsu! Look at this kodachi!" Tetsu was fast, even drunk; he moved swiftly to crouch down and snatch the weapon off the table, admiring its ebony sheath for a moment before baring an inch of the blade.

"Prevalida too! Stolen, no doubt." He narrowed those cold gray eyes. Fast reflexes - reflexes from regular training. Palace guard reflexes. A sigh hissed out between oddly sharp teeth, and carefully he stood.