Author: Anima, Posted: Mon Aug 21, 2017 6:57 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Robin and I left the Mori estate far behind that night, quickly making our way into the garden district on the northern outskirts of the city. The sky was full of stars then, and the koi in the nearby ponds were surprisingly lively. Every candle in the park was like a small wisp floating in the cool, midnight breeze, and you could hear the hooting of owls coming from nearby trees. The scent of lavender was also thick, thanks to the geisha's burning incense sticks. Indeed, the entire landscape felt like something out of a pastoral novel, an Eden for Robin and I to nurse our wounds.

Even in the presence of that grandiose scenery, though, the two of us remained focused on each other rather than the world around. I set Robin down on a bench in that park when we arrived, then promptly fetched a blanket from a nearby, public shack for the two of us to enjoy. She was already trying to dote on me like a worried housewife by that point, reaching out to my eye before I even sat down. She used the bandages on her arm to clean the blood from my face, persisting even against the background of my squirming.

"I'm sorry Tai hurt you," she said. The brow she dabbed still stung a bit despite the shallowness of the cut on it: a reminder of stubbornness and bravado gone wrong. Its wound wouldn't take long to heal in the grand scheme, but the sensitivity of everything remained for the rest of the night.

I told Robin, "Don't worry about it,", but that didn't deter her in the slightest. The only thing that stopped her hand was the mention of her own injuries.  "Besides, I'm more concerned about you right now."

Both of us looked down at her legs then, though Robin seemed the most defeated in doing so. She recounted Hayashi's prognosis to me under the moonlight; this time avoiding the tears she had already shed.

"Master Hayashi says I'll never walk again without pain, and that my arm probably won't heal enough to hold a brush let alone a sword ever again." Shakily gripping her legs, she looked away from me yet again, but not before criticizing herself. "Some warrior I am," she whispered, "I tried to save a man, and instead I lost my ability to save anyone else ever again."


I could only sigh in disappointment when I heard her say that, no longer able to stand her relentless campaign of self-deprecation. It was enough to break the spell I used to hide my true form from her, and also enough for me to finally heal her wounds. The resultant flash of white light that came from her knees when I gripped them startled her greatly, but it was necessary to remove her pain. With it, she was able to endure the reflex jump that inevitably came, all while escaping her depression.

 "What was that," she asked, now more confused than ever by the swift changes taking place around her? She was so distracted by everything that it took her a few seconds to even realize her newfound absence of pain; but, when she did, she couldn't help but to pat down her legs in excitement and disbelief. "My pain: it's gone! Just like that! And- and you have fox ears and a tail!"

I looked at her from underneath the blanket while she was jumping around, meagerly blushing as she pointed out my abnormalities. The explanation that followed was necessary, though no doubt awkward when my gaze kept involuntarily shifting away.

"While I did use magic on Tai, I actually went easy on him. My mastery of the art extends far beyond what anyone in Iria can teach you, and that includes healing magics. Wounds that Master Hayashi says are permanent? I can heal them in seconds, but it will still take time for you to fully recover your movement and strength. That said, I promise you that you will walk again with my help, and you will paint again as well. What you do after we get you there will be up to you to decide, but there is a place at my home if you want it."

Eventually my eyes did settle on Robin near the end of that remark, but I couldn't tell if she was still listening to me by that point or completely focusing on my fox ears. Her gaze was one of wonder like she had never seen magic of that kind before, and I found myself asking if she was still present. After a while, I did get an answer to that unspoken question, but it wasn't the one I was expecting.

Contrary to everything I knew about Robin's past, from her history of abuse down to her lacking experience in happiness, she did not react bashfully in the slightest when I offered her a place at my side. No, instead she suddenly and enthusiastically hugged me after I was done speaking, almost toppling me off the bench in the process despite the fact that she was still injured and I was not. She was crying into my hair again, but this time with happiness instead of melancholy.

"If anyone can paint," she said while pressing herself against me. "I'd like to paint a world of happiness for you, for all that you have done. It's the least I owe you, Natsumi." Robin released me after that – much to my disappointment – and then bent down on one knee to take an oath. "I swear myself to your service, Lady Natsumi, till the end of my days."

She was traditional: I'll give her that. But I can't say I was completely happy with her actions back then. Her knees crackled loudly when she tried to stand up after that oath: something that I was afraid of happening before she knelt in the first place. I could tell by the grimace on her face afterward that she had overexerted herself, so I told her to knock it off.

"Hey! Don't go breaking yourself more on my account," I shouted, but Robin just brushed my concern away by saying,

"It was worth it." Ultimately, though, her grimace didn't go away, so I had to drag her back under my blanket in order to redo the healing on her knees.

"Says the girl not doing the healing," I exclaimed while doing so! "Now hold still till the bone sets or you're going to hurt yourself again!" We spent the rest of the night under the moon and stars back then, eventually falling asleep next to each other once the major injuries were healed. The following morning was the beginning of our next big adventure: a brand new life for the both of us.

[OOC: So ends Robin's origin story. I hope you enjoyed. :) ]

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Mon Aug 21, 2017 4:41 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Despite the matriarch's cruel intentions, however, she never got the chance to enact her plan. Shortly after she finished shouting at her crippled daughter, someone knocked on the estate's front door, calling her attention away from the back room. Robin's suffering was well past egregious by that point, and, having reached my own limit on the bullshit meter, I could no longer stand idly by while it continued.

I've never been one to have a bleeding heart, or at least not one I acted readily upon. At one point in my past, I did, but my lack of omnipotence made failure a far more often occurrence than success. Over time, the heavy weight of my innumerable losses took its toll, sending me deeper and deeper into despair until, finally, I erected a wall to shield myself from pain. That cold person most people saw for the majority of my life thereafter? She was not a sign of malevolence or strength, as so many had come to assume. Rather, she was the result of my personal failings and my underlying weakness.

When I first decided to leave Robin alone, my actions were not being dictated by callous disregard or professional caution. I may have told myself they were back at the time, but the reality of situation was more simplistic. I was simply afraid of turning back. I subconsciously rejected Robin because of the similarities we shared. We both had abusive and absent parents; and both of us yearned for a different life where we could escape the judgments of those we called 'family' and 'friends.' Robin was unintentionally reminding me of the girl I used to be, dragging me back from my safe space with merciless kindness and pungent nostalgia. She was trapped the same way I had been at her age – a slave to her own fate – and that coincidence frightened me.

What eventually turned that fear on its head, however, was the fact there were also differences in our prisons. Unlike my own story, where I was saved from destiny's cruel intentions by the help of friends, Robin didn't have anyone by her side. There was no eagle whispering at her bedroom window every night, no woman in her dreams to drive her forward and teach her strength. She remained alone in her situation, and it took Masako's outburst to force that truth through my thick skull. 'No one is coming to save Robin if not for me,' I realized, and so, in that moment, I finally made up my mind – at least after a long series of deep breaths – to burn away my cowardice in hopes of saving a life.

I showed up at the Mori estate's front entrance shortly thereafter, intent on officially recruiting Robin in the eyes of her family. Mrs. Mori was the first to answer my knocking, at which point she demonstrated her profound ability to change masks on a whim.

"Yes," she asked upon opening that door? "How may I help you?" Her ire from moments before was conspicuously absent while she greeted me, almost like a Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde phenomena. She had replaced her frown with a glowing smile, and was now pretending like she hadn't just been shouting at someone in her household. This was likely because she smelled opportunity from me, given my appearance that afternoon.

In the interest of pretending to be a prospective patron, I had chosen the form of a young, wealthy noblewoman to greet the matriarch with: one that lacked all manner of fox traits. I was dressed from head to toe in luxurious garments, and the center piece of my whole attire was a silken kimono that radiated wealth. The purple garment had sunflower and crane imprints scattered across it, each laced with real gold so that the shapes dazzled in the fading sunlight. It was a choice of apparel that could hardly be mistaken by anyone as random.

Simply put, my choice in fashion during that meeting was entirely based on Mrs. Mori's preferences. She was known for her monetary weakness even among her neighbors, and I had overheard some of them talking about it before I even approached the Mori household. She was infamously drawn to money like a hungry peddler eager for their next meal, and she always felt the need to brag about her family members whenever one of them impressed a prospective client. As such, someone like me who looked like a gullible maiden out on a shopping spree with daddy's money was like an irresistible treasure to the matriarch. My naturally fair complexion already helped with that with that image, seeing as white hair was an exotic feature that most noblemen in Nisshoki would kill to have in a wife. My shoddy attempt at a bubbly voice that I used for accompaniment was just icing on the cake of my disguise; all meant to ingratiate myself to the old hag.

"Good evening," is the first thing I remember trying to say in that nauseating. "I'm the daughter of Lord Hiriko, Lady Natsumi, from the Northern provinces of this great land, and my family is here on vacation until tomorrow. Sadly, we've had a bit of trouble that I'm hoping you can help with, Madame Mori. The head of my guard, the only one we brought on this trip, just passed away yesterday, and I find myself needing a replacement. I've asked my father if I can choose the successor to the position, but he only gave me until tomorrow to find someone. I'm hoping you can help me with that." I held out my coin pouch then, allowing the silver within to clink loudly in Masako's ears. "I know it's completely against tradition and that your family may take offense to this intrusion, but I'm very desperate and willing to pay above average for an immediate filling. I don't want to get stuck with whatever old man my father places on me when we get home, and I will remember your family the next time I need to hire: if you can help me avoid that outcome."

Surprisingly, I managed to get through that whole story without vomiting; and also get the matriarch to buy it at the same time. Ultimately, her greed was too strong of an influence on her to ignore a possible rush order, so she eagerly let me inside.

"Of course, of course! I'm sure we can come to an arrangement that is agreeable for both the lord and m'lady." Masako quickly motioned me into her home then, all before promptly calling out to the back rooms. "Tai, Zeke, Kentaro, Hiro," she said, "we have a customer." She took her seat on a nearby tatami mat once she heard footsteps in answer to that call, simultaneously indicating a spot for me to join her. Four men emerged from various directions once I took that seat, thereby beginning the "interview" process.

My quartet of prospects was a group of muscular and fit individuals. Together, they represented House Mori's most readily available warriors, and each member of their group was dressed in uniform as if he had been waiting all evening for a client to show up. Every one of them stood tall behind their matriarch, no doubt trying to appear imposing whilst their mother continued her sales pitch. "These four are the best of the graduates from last month, and they've been in negotiations since then to choose the best fit patron for them. However, I will let you hire one tonight provided you can do what you say."

For a brief moment, I did pretend to entertain those "options"; but, in reality, my attention kept drifting throughout the room during the interview that followed. At first, I found myself glaring at their tallest member, having not forgotten or forgiven him for his callous treatment of Robin moments prior. My anger from that incident was still fresh in my mind at the time, and I had to force myself to curtail it before my emotions overwhelmed me. He would get his punishment, but the interview was not the time for such things.

Realistically, there was only one place my gaze could ultimately settle on, and it wasn't hard to guess. After Masako moved onto Zeke's accomplishments, I cemented my attention on the right hand door at the back of the room. It was the same one that Robin laid beyond, still confined to the floor as she was trying to stand up. I kept thinking about how distressed she must have been, so much so that I eventually couldn't hear my host anymore. She went on and on about her sons' accomplishments, but every word was drowned out by the empathy I felt until, finally, I cracked under its weight.

"Actually," I said upon reaching that threshold of patience, "while I appreciate this selection, I had someone special in mind that I wanted to hire from the Mori household." I overrode my typical, cautious behavior with that one sentence, simply because I couldn't stand the skin-deep courtesies anymore. By the time Mrs. Mori started talking about her third son, I was already begging for her family to give me a reason for violence instead of diplomacy. I wanted to punch their smug expressions right off their faces, so much so that I decided to do everything in my power to goad them. That path started with their pride as it had with Kenshiro, and that was something my blunt personality was perfect for. "I was looking for Robin Taiyo Mori. I heard she just woke up and got released from Master Hayashi today, and also how she managed to survive one on ten against veterans. Most impressive."

Masako Mori's voice lost all sense of joviality once I finally mentioned Robin by name. She still tried to cover her displeasure with blatant lies following my change in attitude, but her expression no longer matched her inflection. Where she still held confidence on her face, her voice wavered.

"I'm afraid I don't know a Robin. There's no Robin in this household." Underneath that wrinkled exterior, the old hag's poise had been replaced by suspicion. She still persisted in her denial despite the unsettling change in pace, but eventually lost all composure when Robin poked her head out into the room. The bandaged woman looked at me in apprehension while maintaining a respectful silence, but was quickly shouted at before she could shuffle into the meeting. Masako was livid, screeching, "You get back in there right now," even as I motioned for the opposite action.

"That's her," I said while pointing in Robin's direction, "I'll pay full price for her services, even though she'll need some time to recover." But Mrs. Mori wouldn't hear of it. The fact that someone was purposefully trying to recruit a non-blood from her household made her angry, furious even. She refused to take such an insult to her pride, so she rejected my offer outright.

"No. She's not for sale, and clearly you came to mock me so you can see yourself out." Standing up, the old woman pointed to the exit, expecting me to leave. I did no such thing.

"I seem to have struck a cord," I calmly said while maintaining my position, "but I'm not joking. I've come specifically to hire Robin, and I won't be leaving without her."

Still, my host persisted.

"Not for sale, I said, now get out before I have my sons throw you out!" Her bravado was shiny, like a gold plated egg. I would take great pleasure in cracking it open when I invoked my final option in the next instant.

"Then I invoke the ancient rite of Chohei with myself as my house's champion. If I lose, you get to keep my gold and I leave. If I win, though, Robin leaves with me free of charge."

Stuck in the Mori family's code, hidden in the middle of the section on enlistment practices, was an ancient tradition lost to the ages. It went by the name "Chohei," and functioned like a trial by combat. In the oldest days of Ataiyo, when wealth wasn't exactly in good supply, those noblemen who needed more guards but could not pay for them could, instead, have one of their pre-existing guards challenge the champion of a warrior house. The winner of these contests was determined by knockout, death or resignation, and the sponsor of the winning team got to collect on whatever terms the contest had been made under. The practice was known as "Chohei," and it was essentially just a fancy name for a voluntary bet involving military force and money.

Chohei's had always been mutual since their inception, but refusing one was traditionally considered dishonorable. The same could be said for making unreasonable demands of an opposing team when placing bets, but, since a lone warrior from the Mori family was not an outlandish request by any stretch of the imagination, Masako couldn't fall back on that unspoken rule to reject me. She had to play along; accept my challenge lest she denigrate the Mori family's honor.

Despite being cornered, however, Mrs. Mori was still confident that she could beat me at my own game no matter who she chose as her house's champion. She still thought of me as the gullible fool - someone to be manipulated rather than respected – and she even tried to stack the deck in her favor while pretending that she didn't care about the contest.

"Fine. You'll be fighting Tai. Take it or leave it." Tai Mori, the supposedly strongest of the four brothers, stepped forth to oppose me at his mother's behest. He was renowned amongst his neighbors for taking down a boar single-handedly at the young age of 13, so surely he would have no trouble against a girl nearly a foot shorter than him. That's how the thinking went, I'm sure. He didn't even bring out his weapon on approach, speaking volumes about how little he thought of my threat.

Masako was counting on me not trying to renegotiate that fight. She was confident Tai could defeat me, and also that I would be too stubborn or naive to admit it. A smarter, more pragmatic version of myself probably would have proven her wrong under similar circumstances, but I was too consumed with linear direction by that point to listen to my own stratagems. I had an overwhelming desire to crush the Mori family's arrogance, so I stood up to face Masako's son when he came forward, not even bothering to change my clothes or take out a knife before I agreed to the terms.

"Agreed." The battle started in earnest then, or at least it did when the matriarch tilted her head in my direction. Tai charged at me while keeping his arms close to his body, then promptly took a swipe at my face with his bare fist. His jab was quicker than I anticipated, so he managed to split open my eyebrow with that first attack. However, that was all he managed to accomplish before gasping in pain.

Despite the force with which he came down on my head and the height advantage he possessed, Tai failed to move me from my stance. Instead, he wounded himself with his own punch, breaking his wrist against my skin. He thought he had been punching flesh and bone, so he used all of his strength with reckless abandon. In reality, though, he was punching a living statue, augmented by magic.

"You know, it hurts when you throw something in someone else's face," I said once this realization sunk in for him. He tried to pull his hand back shortly thereafter, a hasty attempt to regain his composure; but it was already too late for him to correct his mistake. Since I hadn't been forced back like he intended, I was easily able to grab hold of his head before he could escape. Then, with cranium in tow, I forced his face into my hardened knee to give him his own bleeding eye. It had barely been ten seconds, and he was already crumbled on the floor. "Maybe remember that the next time you think it's okay to toss crutches at your crippled sibling."

Strictly speaking, what I had done just then against the Mori champion was considered cheating in some of the older, Chohei books. Magic wasn't looked fondly upon back in the old days of Ataiyan competition, so it was often banned during the earliest duels. That rule was later relaxed under strengthened diplomatic ties with Iria, but the social stigma around arcane trickery in martial combat never fully disappeared. To use magic in a Chohei, even in Robin's time, was considered dishonorable; but, since no member of the Mori family had thought to ban me from using it before our fight began, they couldn't disqualify me for going that route. In fact, they were stuck until Tai lost consciousness, died or conceded.

Of course, by this point in the fight, the eldest son was already a cripple in his own right. He had suffered both a concussion and a fractured wrist from me, rendering him into a quivering mess on the floor. Nothing beyond that point could even constitute a fight, but Masako was too proud to beg for an injunction. She was fully prepared to put pride over the life of her son just to get back at Robin, the same as I was to call her bluff. The insanity of violence and rage that consumed the two of us swirled around the room like a vortex of hatred and death, until, finally, a voice of reason returned to light the way.

"Stop!" Before I could put an end to her foster brother, Robin spoke up and shielded him from me. She had forced herself between us despite her injuries, only to grab my leg with her one good arm and plead for my compassion. "Please, stop. He's already lost. You'll kill him if you continue." I tried to muster something to say to Robin in that state, anything; but I couldn't. As the blood trickled down over my eye from my earlier wound, all my questions went with it. My clenched fists relaxed against my will, and the fog from before cleared as I tasted, for the first time in a long while, the shame of defeat.

Masako had a different reaction than mine, but only for the first few moments of the outburst. She started shouting at Robin again, asking her, "How dare you interrupt this fight?" But it didn't take long for her foster daughter to shame her as well.

"Tai has already lost," she replied, "or can't you see that he needs a doctor immediately?!" The matriarch looked at her son then, giving him an honest examination for the first time since the fight began. She had been so consumed with winning that she didn't see the damage she was encouraging until now. Robin had helped cure her of her blindness, even if she was reluctant to admit it. She eventually found humility in that room, though her grumpy tone remained for the evening.

"Go fetch Master Hayashi," Masako said to her sons in that gloomy atmosphere. They were shocked for a moment, but obeyed in the end, because, ultimately, their mother had to swallow her pride without them. She was willing to sacrifice some family honor for the sake of her son, even if she resented the person who made her see it as an option. She didn't suddenly become cordial with Robin just because of this service, but she did finally relax her stubbornness enough to let her go. "You want Robin," she asked when it was only the four of us left in the room? "Take her. Just get out of here. I'm done fighting."

In the deafening silence that followed, Robin was finally freed from her family's shackles. She had shown more backbone than even I in that place, earning her right to stand tall despite the fact that she still required my aid to do so. The two of us quietly left her family home afterward, bringing with us that gloomy silence until Robin spoke up two blocks away.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said, "listen to me. You could have killed him, ended the fight. Why didn't you?" I was giving her a piggy back ride by that point since she forgot her crutches back at the estate, so I had a hard time watching her face and road at the same time while she was speaking. That said, I didn't have to see her expression to know why she was asking that question out of the blue. She doubted her own role, unable to realize her strength unless someone else pointed it out. I tried to be the one to do that, but it ultimately just generated more questions.

"Like you said, he was already defeated. The only reason I was fighting so hard was because I was angry, and I couldn't hold onto that emotion once you started begging me to stop. You were the one who kept me from killing him."

"Why? Why do you care so much about someone you just met? I can't even fight anymore, so I'm of no use to you or anyone else as a warrior. Someone like you doesn't need a cripple like me, so why listen?"

Robin was suspicious to a fault, but her questions did little to phase my persistence or slow my pace. Instead of responding in an irritated fashion to her lack of belief in me – one I'm sure she expected - I just smiled and spoke the truth.

"Because I was like you once. At one point in my life, I was cornered between the streets of hopelessness and fear without knowing where to turn or what to do. That was until I learned something very important. In life, anyone can paint, whether their desired object be a portrait or some intangible, life goal. That lesson helped me when I felt trapped by my own destiny. I chose to paint a new one for myself, and it gave the strength to escape. That strength can be yours too. I know it can, so I came back for you."

Somewhere in Robin's mind at that moment, she finally made the connection between me and the man she thought was dead. She suspected all along that her painting instructor had played some role in saving her life from Kenshiro, but that same thought was accompanied by the dreadful possibility he had sacrificed himself in order to do so. Now that I stood before her speaking as he had for the last month, however, she couldn't help but see the shaggy haired gentleman in me. Those weepy eyes of hers could hardly contain themselves at the thought, and so her emotions burst out all at once.

"Shiro," she cried! At long last, her tears feel for the first time in many years. Robin's face was awash with simultaneous strokes of sorrow and euphoria, and her crying only intensified once I leaned my head into hers. I gave her one final message on the road that night, but only after using my nose to wipe away some of her tears.

"My real name is Natsumi, Robin: Natsumi Yamauchi; and I'm sorry I took so long to come help you."

Author: Anima, Posted: Fri Aug 18, 2017 7:44 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

In the end, my prediction came true, but at a rate faster than I could have ever imagined. After Kenshiro had been tossed aside by my spell - his pride stayed by unconsciousness - he remained passive long enough for the authorities to apprehend him. I've already said how the guard didn't typically patrol that area of the docks due to their perpetually insufficient hazard pay; and this unfortunate circumstance certainly didn't change simply because of one man's actions. But it is important to remember that smugglers are not the end all of fear and that few things are more frightening than an irate nobleman with political clout. Unfortunately for Kenshiro, he had awoken such a beast with his machinations. His plot made him a guest of Lord Miyano's ire, which was more than enough motivation for the city watch to pursue him into those slums.

One of Kenshiro's men, the same Kai that had helped ransack my camp, was the first to be captured. He had underestimated his opponents during their skirmish outside city limits, blinded by the same pride that had undone his leader, and the watchmen were not kind to that mistake. They brought Kai back to the barracks for interrogation, and it only took a 'small' amount of prying from them before he revealed Kenshiro's plot and his role in it. By that point, Lord Miyano had returned early from his vacation, and had been informed of the note used to lure his son out to Han'nichi. His resultant wrath was inevitably forwarded to Kai, who, to this day, is the only one of Kenshiro's men to have a 'missing' status next to his name instead of 'deceased.'

Following that bloody interrogation, the rest of Kenshiro's group was set upon by the law. Guards swarmed around Han'nichi like flies to honey, and the elder, along with the nine who accompanied him, were all quickly arrested before being hogtied and thrown into cells. News of Ichirou Miyano's death spread like wildfire after the officers found him dead in that warehouse; and the men who had conspired against him were consequently stripped of all honor and titles. They were criminals in the eyes of the law and the Ataiyan people, so their names were published in the public record before each of them was sentenced to death. Their stories ended in shame not two weeks after their plot had been brought to a gruesome end, all while Kenshiro cursed me until his dying breath.

"It was the white fox," he would often shout on death row. "She did this!" But no one outside his fellow condemned ever believed him. Not one.

Robin's fate was drastically different from his, though no less pathetic. She remained unconscious for days after I took her away from those slums, and, although Kenshiro tried to paint her as an accomplice while she slept, the city expunged her name from the record entirely. Lord Miyano would likely have had her executed alongside her former superior if the decision had been left entirely up to him, but someone superseded his authority on the matter before he could weigh in. Most likely, this was because the watch report – the same one I stole a glance at while Robin was resting – indicated that a crucial piece of evidence had been found the day of Kenshiro's arrest. The item in question was a small, metallic scale stuck in the bottom of Kenshiro's boot, one that was enough to prove Robin's innocence based on Mori family traditions.

As part of ancient tradition, each set of Mori armor, just like the kind Robin had been wearing the day she was assaulted, possessed the Mori family seal along with a date of when the armor was first commissioned. These were often etched onto various places around the set in order to allow each one to have a unique identifier; and, in Robin's case, her seals were on her arms. They had been etched into the scales near her elbows, and one of those scales had gotten lodged in the sole of Kenshiro's boot when he used it to break her arm. By pure chance, that area of the armor hadn't been properly repaired the last time it was damaged, and so the scale broke free when it was placed underneath the strength of a traitor's boot.

The watch was able to take that scale and perfectly match it to Robin's shattered and blood soaked armor, thereby clearing her of all suspicion. Her wounds were already too extensive for anyone to really believe that Ichirou Miyano had inflicted them, so the scale was just the final nail in Kenshiro's incredulous coffin when it was found.
 
Despite the fact that Robin was absolved of her supposed involvement, though, she did not emerge unscathed.  For my part in the sordid affair, I was torn on what to do with her when she didn't wake up. On the one hand, I could heal her completely if I so desired, but on the other I was afraid of getting any closer to her or doing something that would inadvertently make her a suspect of law enforcement. I knew from recounting my actions at the warehouse that I had grown too soft over the last month and too close to Robin herself for me to trust myself with objective decisions on her fate. I feared I was vulnerable, too much for both our sakes; so I refrained from doing anything drastic until I knew more about the situation at hand. I applied first aid to her wounds, dropped her off at the Mori family's personal doctor, and tried to make sure that the guard would not condemn her while the investigation was ongoing. But, beyond that, I let things play out as they would, even though I knew this story wouldn't have a happy ending.

That was a foolish decision on my part. When she came to, Robin was greeted by Master Hayashi. He informed her she would never walk again without pain, and that it would be a long time coming before she could properly hold anything with her left arm again. He told her this even as her beautiful eyes sunk in disappointment, but never once did he see her cry. She just sullenly looked at her bandages while he was giving his prognosis, and then quietly spoke up for the first time in two days after he was finished.

"Can I go home now," she asked? Hayashi just looked at her for a moment, unable to truly express how sorry he was for mortal inadequacies. His expression betrayed that he wanted the girl to stay put, but also that he recognized his inability to force such behavior. Rather than fight a losing battle, he silently stood up from his chair, grabbed some crutches from a nearby cabinet, and then handed them to his patient along with a bowl of soup.

"Of course," he said, still retaining that glum expression of his. "You've been out for a couple days, though, so you should eat before leaving. I'll have my assistant escort you back home with your pain medication after you're done." Hayashi departed from the room at that point, leaving Robin with her food and thoughts. I watched her through doctor's backyard window during that time – invisible, of course – and I remember how empty her gaze looked. She stared at that soup for the longest time, and only took one spoonful before quietly leaving behind the master's back.

Robin hobbled down the road on her crutches to get back home afterward, somehow managing not to fall over or cry out in pain before reaching her destination. The door to the Mori estate opened for her when she arrived, revealing a tall man just entering his prime. I remember he had cold eyes when greeting the girl on his family's doorstep, the kind that you only use to greet your enemies with. I also remember making eye contact with him from beneath my invisibility, even though Robin never did the same. Rather than look upon his face, she averted her gaze to the floor when he appeared, almost as if she were hiding. In reality, she didn't need to look up to know who it was; because only her brother Tai had a diagonal scar like that on his right foot.

"Hello, brother." Robin spoke with a perpetually fearful demeanor, sparking unwelcome memories in my head. I expected shame from her, given her thirst to prove herself, but I did not expect the dread and submissiveness I felt instead. These two were no sibling pair by blood or relation. They were abuser and victim; assaulter and child; and the former of their pair clearly disliked his official title. He became irate just from the mere mention of the word, and replied with spiteful inflection while still impeding his sister's path.

"I'm no brother of yours," he said. Tai grabbed Robin by the scruff of her shirt then and tore her away from her crutches in his anger. She tumbled, tightly gritting her teeth from the unexpected weight on her knees, but her brother didn't care about the pain he was causing. He callously dragged his sister back to her old room, threw her on the bedroll inside, and then tossed her crutches at her face. There he left her, going to fetch his mother from the opposite side of the house whilst Robin feebly tried to stand back up. She never succeeded despite her best efforts, at least not before the old hag returned with furious questions.

"What are you doing here?!" The matriarch of the Mori family at the time, Masako, was often hailed as a caring, gentle lady by her friends. Her public image was that of a caring grandmother: someone who doted on her children while still pushing them to do better. Robin never saw that side of her; and for a petty reason at that. Every time they shared the same space together, every time Robin showed even the slightest bit of pride, Masako took the opportunity to verbally abuse her; and it didn't matter to the old woman how injured or vulnerable Robin was at the time of each session. The night Robin returned home was no different.

On that night, Maskao Mori stood in the doorway of her foster daughter's old room just after her son had fetched her. She scowled down at the crippled mess in front of her, emphasizing the wrinkles in her already ugly face while doing so. Clearly, she was waiting for an answer to her first question, and Robin knew better than to keep her in that state.

"Master Hayashi says I'm no longer fit to be a warrior," she answered, "so I came home." This would seem the natural response for any daughter asked that question, foster or otherwise; but it was not the answer that Mrs. Mori was looking for. Before Robin could say anything else, the old crone briskly walked over and slapped her in the face to show her displeasure.

"I know what Master Hayashi said," she shouted angrily! "What I'm asking is why you came back here when I made it very clear that, once your training was complete, you were never welcome back?! This house is only for Mori family members, not strangers who don't even share one drop of our blood." Tossing her fan at Robin's face, the Matriarch drew blood. She reflexively recoiled from this new wound, and started to tear up until her 'mother' threatened her with yet another slap. "Don't you dare cry in front of me, girl! Actually, don't do anything in front of me. I want you out by dawn. Where you go, I don't care; but I never want to see you again. If I so much as hear you come through that front door one more time, I'll have Tai butcher you. The same will happen if you aren't gone by tomorrow's sunrise."

And just like that, Mrs. Mori left Robin to her own devices. Her relationship with her foster daughter had always been this violent, ever since Robin first arrived on her doorstep. Normally, she would have never taken care of another person's child like she had in Robin's case, because she was too focused on blood relations as a parent. Masako was a veritable stereotype of everything wrong with most breeders in the world, always requiring blood to see anyone as family. That said, she owed a debt at the time of Robin's adoption and so her sense of honor outweighed her selfishness in that one instant. She didn't wish to besmirch her family's name by refusing a debt holder's request, and therefore accepted guardianship against her better judgment.

That was sixteen years prior to the cripple's return. Robin had endured one abuse after another since then: both verbal and physical. The debt was supposed to be repaid long before Kenshiro's treachery, at which point the debt holder was supposed to return in order to take Robin off the Mori family's hands for good. Yet that promised event never came to pass, thereby leaving Masako's obligation without an end in sight. In her mind, she had more than fulfilled her end of the bargain, and, without word from the other party, she felt vindicated in her cruelty. In fact, she might very well have followed through on her final threat against Robin had she been given the chance; especially since her definition of honor only related to what the other families could see. Behind closed doors, where the public could not scrutinize her so easily, Masako Mori was ruthless to the core.

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Fri Aug 18, 2017 1:09 AM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

In his hatred for the Miyano family, the once proud Kenshiro had reduced himself to nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer.  He was fully intent on leaving Robin to die in that place, even if he would not personally deliver the killing blow. His men didn't even bother to put her out of her misery before moving to the door, showing no remorse or even the slightest bit of sympathy on their faces or in their actions. In reality, they were no longer the warriors they proclaimed to be; and, ironically, that's what kept me from killing them in the end.

While Kenshiro was busy giving his next order at the warehouse, I had already tracked Robin to his location. SAI's connection to a salt flats mirror was a useful asset in the best of times, allowing me to keep tabs on any person I had ever met. Through it, I was able to see where my apprentice was the instant I decided to look for her, and I was also able to arrive to her rescue before her attackers had time to leave. A teleportation spell was all I needed to descend upon the two keeping watch outside, and I fell upon them even as their next order came through the door.

"Tensei, Toru, we're done here. Open up." The men did hear Kenshiro when he said this, but they were too preoccupied to follow his command. Before entering my gate travel, I had summoned two golems as my vanguard. The constructs were swift to strike at the two traitors outside Han'nichi's gates, almost faster than either of them could react. One did manage to speak up before he was tossed about like a rag doll, but his question was fated to remain half-finished.

"What are you-," was all he could muster saying before one of my golems struck him directly in the torso. His armor, while effective against swords, couldn't stand up to the force of an elemental's fist; and so he fell without resistance. His ribs cracked audibly as the jab collided with his chest, shortly before he was sent flying into Tensei and then into the warehouse's front wall. Kenshiro undoubtedly heard this collision, but the short-lived sounds of battle did little to placate his temper.

"Hey! Open up, I said!" The man was already running thin on patience, and this additional delay was not something he wished to deal with. That was ever more apparent by his still rising inflection. Even so, his men could no longer act on his requests; because, while not dead, they had essentially just been hit by mini-catapults and were in no shape to do any amount of physical activity. Still, their leader did get his wish. The door did open.

After seeing that Robin's aura was at a safe distance away from the door, I bade my golems to force their way into that building. Ol' Rusty snapped in two from their tackle, and the door splintered apart with little effort. The extensive wood rot throughout the warehouse made the resultant spikes soft enough to be non-lethal, but they were still decent bludgeons against the armored men caught in the wake of the explosion. While their bodies remained uninjured, their calm – save for Kenshiro's – was shattered.

Even in the aftermath of that battering ram entrance, the elder menace refused to see reason. He drew his sword, displaying no fear toward the towering behemoths in front of him, and then grinned in stark contrast to the expressions of his fidgeting friends. He betrayed his true intentions through his actions, for, deep down, he was excited to see me despite acting to the contrary.

"You're no ordinary painter, are you," he asked, making no effort to hide his adrenaline flooded euphoria? His lust for the spotlight was painfully obvious, like a child acting out in order to garner attention. Under normal circumstances, I might have given him what he wanted despite my best intentions: killed him in the battle he would inevitably start. Yet because of the girl behind him, I didn't.

Although I have described this meeting in hindsight up until now, most of what I have said about Robin thus far has been based on her account of the story. I wasn't there to see the actual ambush, nor can I really say what I would have done had I been able to stop it. However, I was there to see the aftermath. I saw Robin stuck lying on the ground behind Kenshiro, her arm twisted in an inhuman direction. Her shattered armor hid her bruises, but those half-shut eyes told me of the damage that she had already suffered.

I wanted to hate Kenshiro for what he had done to my friend. On some level, I definitely did. Robin's quiet begging for me to leave didn't help me contain my emotions, either.

"Run, Shiro," she cried meekly, "Leave me before he does the same to you!" She passed out soon thereafter, her consciousness taking all my hatred with it. Whatever amount of malice I held toward Kenshiro and his men in that moment deflated completely, allowing concern to fill the void it left behind. The leader of the opposition still tried to goad me after the fact, but his attempts were in vain.
 
"You won't be going anywhere," he said. "Kai and the others apparently didn't do what I told them to, so I guess we'll have to finish the job." He tried to signal his men to circle me with that comment; but not one moved from his place. They had lost their resolve, thereby showing a chink in the squad's armor. Either these men did not share Kenshiro's conviction, or they were too startled by the disappearance of my mask to act. Either way, the next move was mine.
 

"Tell me," I began while stepping into that graveyard, "is it customary for all warriors in this area to become murderous psychopaths after a slight bump to their pride, or is that just your family, Kenshiro?"  Up until that warehouse, I had maintained the vision of a painter, the same man that Kenshiro had met on the riverbank one month prior. That spell was wearing off now under the burden of my emotions, gradually revealing my true self to the men in front of me. The elder was the last to notice this change, perhaps blinded by his own hatred and need to speak.

"A slight bump," he asked in irritation?! "You don't know anything about me or what I've had to suffer!"

But even his bravado took a pause when confronted with the change. He saw just after opening his mouth, though was not taken aback by it like those who followed him. His pride and arrogance remained untouched: a fact that quickly led to his downfall after I began cutting him off.

"Frankly, I don't want to know," I began anew, interrupting Kenshiro when he was about to say more. "Take your frustrations out on your employer all you like, but Robin had nothing to do with your grudge no matter how you try to justify her involvement. The way I see it, you're just a sad little bully who's not satisfied because he couldn't get exactly what he wanted and so he decided to hurt people who had nothing to do with his own problems."

Kenshiro heard my lecturing loud and clear, and yet still tried to laugh in response. The only thing funny about the whole affair was the fact that the warrior could no longer manage humor in his voice. Beyond the layer of dust on his face, I could see some sweat on his brow, so I knew I had struck a nerve. He tried to deny it, like most who had come before him, and instead tried to use my ears and tail as a way to deflect from his own inadequacies.
 
"A female demon in the skin of a man," he asked - as if my race would invalidate everything I had said? "I should have known. Someone like you would never understand a warrior's pride."

There it was: the oldest trick in the book. Rule 1: if someone says something you don't like and you can't defend against it with logic, evidence or reason, create a personal attack to obfuscate their point. Kenshiro tried, but all he really managed to do was stick his head for my hammer.

"You're not even a warrior," I told him. "You're a coward who thinks that killing some boy and crippling your former subordinate makes you better. Even cowards can wield swords. And the woman you hurt? She served with pride and the hope that someday she would prove herself to be better than her family name. She was a far better warrior than you'll ever be. You're just a boy in a tin suit swinging a sword around while saying, 'Look at me! I'm special!'"

I fully expected my opponent to crack under that final dig against his pride, for he was the type of man that cared too much about what others said about him or his reputation. I was right in that assessment. Even though he thought of me as just a painter, even though he had slandered me for my appearance and my ideology, he couldn't take the same punishment he had dealt out. As soon as I said anything about his pride and bravery, he went berserk. He lunged at me, forgetting his training as well as my golems; at least until one of them tossed him out of the way. In the end, the man fullest of bluster was just as useless as those who followed him.

Of course, at least Kenshiro tried to stand by his word. The others were true to the label I had given their leader, attempting to run by me instead of fight. Unfortunately for them, the elementals they feared had been trained on their essence since my arrival. Their band seven might have stood a chance at overpowering the opposition had they stuck together, but they did not. One golem morphed into a stone wall to block their exit, and then the other pummeled them all into submission.

During this thrashing, I was not actually paying attention to anyone but Robin. While my summons did the fighting for me, I ran back to my friend's side to pick her up. I tried my best to stabilize her knees with my tail while my hands held her head and back, and then I carried her out of that warehouse once the wall was gone.

With their job complete, the golems disappeared, leaving only a mess of unconscious and battered men on the floor. They were still alive, save for Ichirou, but only one refused to stay down before I could disappear.

"Not so fast, wench." Kenshiro, despite his bruises and broken bones, stood up to bar my path once more. His normal sword arm dangled much like Robin's did at the time, but he still managed to point a blade in my direction with his non-dominant hand in order to threaten me. "That's not how this is going to end. You can't just walk away from me! I submit to the Horitshi code that says the only honorable death is one achieved in battle. Either you kill me now, or you're not leaving until you do."

I had no intention of fulfilling the fool's wish, though. Instead, I mocked him one final before having a blast of wind force him to the side.

"The Horitishi code is for warriors. You're no warrior, and, seeing as you seem to care so much about what others think, I'm going to let you live with your shame. When the guards get here, all of Ataiyo will know that you're a coward, a traitor, and a criminal. You'll never be able to call yourself honorable ever again, nor should you have in the first place."

Author: Anima, Posted: Thu Aug 17, 2017 10:14 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Several minutes before I even got to the Han'nichi Warehouse, Robin and her master arrived at the front entrance. The building itself had languished on the Nisshoki docks for quite some time, having been used as a storage facility by the Miyano family before its existence was simply forgotten. Nothing really valuable was left inside those walls by the time Robin visited: just moth balls and cobwebs or even a spare hanger leftover from the clothing that used to be sold out of them. Han'nichi was a veritable catch-all in its heyday, but that time was long past and few even remembered who owned it before the Miyano's left it to rot.

Patrols didn't typically visit that area of the docks anymore, either. What was once a fairly prosperous area filled with goods and luxurious imports from around the world had been reduced to a haven for smugglers: one that nobles just preferred to ignore rather than waste money on cleaning up. Those guards that tried to bring order typically vanished overnight never to be seen or heard from again, so it's not surprising that the only security measure left on Han'nichi during Robin's generation was an old, rusty lock that could be easily picked or bashed off by anyone with sufficient will. It was something that had only been put up because no guard would dare stand outside the building in exchange for the paltry wage being offered by its owners; but it was also, ironically, the only reason no smuggler had dared to enter.

Whatever their superstitions or misgivings about that lock, most smugglers chose to give its charge a wide berth in favor of other places to stash their goods. The lock had remained untouched for decades because of folk lore that had built up around it, marking it an unusually effective deterrent up until the day that Robin arrived on its doorstep.

Ol' Rusty, as some of the locals had taken to calling Han'nichi's resident watchdog, was not on his normal roost when the two warriors arrived early that morning. Someone had gently undone his latch and placed him off to the side before they got there, much like one would do to an old soldier who, after battling fatigue for many years, had finally reached the end of his duty. There were no abnormal scratch marks on him; nor was there any sign of forced entry. Rather, the scene made clear that someone had used Rusty's original key so that he could finally be relieved of duty and a proper sendoff.

Ichirou smelled trouble upon seeing this tender scene, but for reasons he kept from Robin. His brain wanted him to run away from that warehouse, to never look back at the secrets of his family history; but his legs wouldn't listen. He was especially nervous since the other guards he had brought with him had seemingly vanished long before they should have. Only Robin was left from the original three he recruited, and he wasn't fully confident in her abilities as a warrior or an advisor. Already, he was regretting apprenticing her to my tutelage for so long, even if he realized that regret at the warehouse's threshold was nothing but wasted effort.

In the end, the eldest son knew his motivations did not allow for retreat. His honor and duty to family propelled him forward into that dust filled building just as much as his desire to minimize punishment did. He could not leave his sister in the hands of her kidnapper out of fear, nor did he have any wish to be reprimanded for losing her in the first place. In the face of overwhelming doubt and nervousness, his only option was to rely on what he had been taught: to move forward without hesitation.

And yet every suspicion that the young man had held in his heart up till that point was proven right as soon as he entered the vestigial monolith from a better time. After both he and Robin ventured beyond Han'nichi's front entrance, the doors shut tight behind them. The two guards from before had been lurking just out of sight, waiting for a chance to lock their former comrades inside. They didn't waste that opportunity when it presented itself, and also didn't respond despite Robin's fervent attempts to stop them.

"Save your energy," Ichirou called out once he realized what was happening. Robin kept struggling to reopen the gates despite his command, but stopped once she heard something being shifted outside. The two traitors were quickly piling up nearby boxes in front of the doors to make opening them that much harder. The young lord had foreseen this, and so knew that escape was impossible even before the candles were lit.

In that split-second, Kenshiro won. He had lured two of his enemies into an ambush, whether by loyalty or ill-placed duty; and he had done so whilst enlisting the aid of seven, other, masked men to his side. They were all standing in the back of the warehouse when it lit up, fully decked out in armor and ready for their leader's every whim. He, himself, was strangely calm, almost uncharacteristically so when he decided to chat up his victims before battle.

"I figured it would be you, Kenshiro." Miyano was the first to speak, even though the hand on his sword made clear what he would have preferred to do instead. "But I also didn't think you could stoop so low as to kidnap my sister. Where are you hiding her?"

A month prior to this meeting, I would have expected the ronin in front of Ichirou to respond in anger to the accusations lain at his feet. It used to be his favorite past time, after all: yell at the young lord whenever given the chance. But, there in that dust-filled tomb of his, he looked much older than before. His eyes shone in the flickering flames like those of someone already defeated, like a warrior that sat on the edge of expiration after a long overdue battle. His tone went along the same lines, an almost melancholy shadow of its former self; and, from what Robin tells me, he didn't even start off the confrontation by acknowledging the presence of his opponents. Instead, his initial gaze was almost constantly fixated on a dilapidated, illegible signboard that he held lovingly in his arms.

"Low, huh," he asked while placing that plank of wood on a nearby box? "Naoko has never been in any danger. One day, she'll grow up, get married off to some fat nobleman pig, and have his children: just like any noblewoman is expected to do. Right now, she's at her aunt's estate, but you'd know that if you actually learned anything from my counsel. Just like your father in that regard, I suppose"

Like an idiot starving for attention, Miyano drew his sword at that moment. He was an impatient man, not wishing to listen to another one of Kenshiro's stories so late in the game. Yet, he was humiliated for this choice in the end, because no one but Robin mirrored him. The others didn't even bother to take his threat seriously, like the two aggressors in front of them weren't even worth the effort of getting flustered over. Kenshiro went a step further and just kept talking like Ichirou was sitting patiently for him to finish.

"My family used to be more than warriors, you know," he said. "My great grandfather owned this warehouse. His name was even on that sign. He had to borrow money from the Miyano family at one point, however: a debt he never repaid. Whatever the loan was for, I never found out. My great grandfather took that secret to his grave, but one thing I do know is that the Miyano family used that debt to confiscate my family's warehouse and conscript our entire bloodline into servitude in order to pay off the remainder. I'm part of the proud segment that became warriors instead of common servants." Finally looking up at his prey at this point, the ronin focused squarely on the young lord and scowled. "But you know, truthfully I don't care what my great grandfather did or did not do. His mistakes are his own, and they haven't condemned our family entirely anyway. Some escaped, my brother among them.  But it goes without saying in my family that the Miyano's have had a bad track record when it comes to taking advantage of others. They've consistently tried to dupe other families into the same circumstances as my own since the day I was born, ruining their bloodlines in the process. I thought perhaps that practice would change once you succeeded your father, Ichirou. That's why I argued with you; because I believed you could be better than your father ever was. But this month… no, this year has taught me otherwise, just as it taught these men otherwise."

Trying to break the silence, the Miyano heir finally spoke up. He interrupted his former, chief guard, saying, "What's your point? All I see are traitors in your ranks." The words were an obvious, albeit foolish, attempt to goad the man into attacking early, but they were also a flop. Instead of doing what Ichirou wanted, Kenshiro just regarded him like an elephant regards a fly. The Miyano heir's attempts were failing completely against this old dog, but still he failed to realize this despite his steward's concerted efforts.

"We were at the breaking point for quite some time," Kenshiro continued without delay. "We put up with the long hours, the disrespect, and the poor pay. We stuffed aside our misgivings about your father's dealings. But we did this because we felt we were in our hardship together. Then miss rookie comes along and gets special treatment just because you can't get away with disrespecting an old name like Mori. That was one mockery too far. Everyone here feels the same way, and, while we recognize that killing you won't make things right, it will certainly make us feel better knowing that the Miyano family finally felt some of our pain." Now turning to Robin, the bloodthirsty warrior finished his last word on the matter. "As for you, you mockery of a warrior, I'll deal with you the same way I dealt with your teacher."

Just like that, the swords were out; and just like that, it was over. The battle took only seconds to come to an end after it began, and not in the favor of the two defendants. Ichirou tried to take the initiative and swing at Kenshiro when he charged, but he was a noble brat and not a battle hardened samurai like his opponent. The dog was easily able to deflect the boy's initial strike, and just as easily able to punch him into the ground before stomping on his face. He could have killed him outright then, but he didn't. Instead, the vengeful samurai left Ichirou in the dirt, restraining him for a later execution whilst his men dealt with the girl.

Robin managed to do a slight bit better than her employer, wounding the neck of one of her attackers, but she too was quickly overwhelmed. Her first cut was too shallow, allowing her enemy to restrain her while his comrades finished the job. They didn't use their blades, though, instead choosing to bludgeon her knees in until she couldn't stand anymore from the pain. Her blood was seeping through her armor by the time she finally knelt, at which point the leader of the brigands ordered them to stop. He had Ichirou placed in front of her then, but only so he could slit the boy's throat in front of her while she was helpless to do anything but watch.

Before ending that young man's life, however, the ronin also felt the need to make eye contact with his former subordinate. He maliciously pressed the blade to Ichirou's jugular when he had it, and then sliced without mercy. The edge nicked the boy's carotid as well, so blood sprayed out of the wound onto Robin's face during the murder.

"I may think of you as a failure of a warrior," Kenshiro said after creating this morbid fountain, "but the rest of Ataiyo will just focus on your name instead of my word. So I'm going to make sure your failure is undeniable even in their eyes." Ichirou was long gone by the time he finished, but his revenge was far from over. After the boy's corpse grew cold and limb, he cleaned his blade, sheathed it and then moved over to hover just above the half-dead Robin.

He had become nothing more than a cruel demon wearing the mask of a human by that point, and this identity of his shown through perfectly in the actions that followed. Before Robin could even speak to him, before she could do anything, the old man grabbed her sword arm, placed his boot on the back of her elbow and pulled until he heard a crunch. She was screaming in pain the entire time, but no one came to help. He just left her there on the warehouse floor like that when he was done: beaten, mangled and without hope of rescue. And he did this while telling her the terrible narrative he had created for her in his twisted mind.

"You have failed to protect your charge," he said, "so you are a disgrace as a bodyguard. And with your knees and arm like that, you'll never be able to serve as a warrior ever again; or paint for that matter. Such is your fate, you pitiful rookie."

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Tue Jul 4, 2017 12:06 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Around this time, Kenshiro's men were ransacking my camp. I later found out that their original intent had not been centered on my belongings, and that the only reason they had wrecked my camp instead was because of their looming deadline. The original mission of these skirmishers was to break my hands because their master believed that such an injury would keep me from painting ever again. Fate, however, interfered with those intentions before we met. An overly curious, guard patrol stopped them on the eastern road outside of Nisshoki, and the follow-up interrogation lost the group their chance at enacting Kenshiro's order. They were supposed to finish their assignment and be back within the hour to prepare for the coming battle; but, thanks to the captain of that patrol, the trio had to settle for vandalism.

One of the guardsmen from said patrol was watching them while they were in the process of destroying my studio, however, so they didn't get far after their criminal act. Her squad's captain had been suspicious about them from the start, and his fears persisted despite their earlier attempts to placate him. He assigned his stealthiest subordinate to follow them as a precaution, but didn't expect her to return so soon with news of vandalism. She reported back just before the roninin could reenter the city, and the two parties clashed outside Nisshoki limits.

I never saw that battle. My camp was in ruins thanks to Kenshiro's men, true, but their fate was not my primary concern back then. Rather, my attention focused on Robin once I managed to soothe my anger enough to look at the crushed implement in my hand. It was apparent, now more than ever, that the girl was in danger, and so I dropped everything to go after her.

Inanimate objects could be replaced and repaired, after all. I could repaint the ruined portrait, prepare the food again, and replace my broken supplies; but people weren't the same. When people break, it's a matter of chance whether they can actually be repaired or not. I didn't want to take that chance with Robin, even if I didn't know it was already too late.

Author: Anima, Posted: Wed Jun 14, 2017 3:17 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Earlier that morning, Robin had been stopped at the entrance to the Miyano estate by the eldest son of the family – the same one who had handed her off to me exactly one month prior. Around that time, he had been left in charge of his family's household while his parents were away on vacation; but, as of Robin's final day, his supervision took a turn for the worse. His younger sister, Naoko, had been missing for almost half a day, and he was beginning to worry that something had happened to her. In the hopes of finding his sibling before his parents returned home the next day, he started enlisting the help of every guard in his estate for a grand search of the grounds. That list of personnel included Robin, and so she was drafted into the search before she even had a chance to leave for the day.

Teams were formed to search for Naoko, and they scoured the family grounds looking for anything suspicious. But all investigations revealed no sign of the missing heiress. There was no ransom note; no blood; not even a single hint of struggle. Miyano was left to sweat for almost an hour as this search continued without any hint of good news to come. He was too afraid to contact the city guardsmen, however, because that would make the incident a matter of public record. News of such a high profile kidnapping would surely reach his parents on their way back home, bringing dishonor and shame to him as well as them for their decision to trust him.

Yet as the morning dragged on, the eldest son started to believe that notifying the authorities was the inevitable outcome of his situation. It was far better, he thought, to lose face than to lose a sibling, and so he made up his mind to send for Nisshokian law enforcement nearly one hour after his search began.

Before he could give that order, though, a courier pigeon arrived at his family's coop with a message.

'I have Naoko Miyano,' the blood soaked parchment read. 'If you want to see her again, Ichirou Miyano and Robin Mori shall come to the Han'nichi warehouse immediately. If I see anyone other than those two, you'll never see Naoko again.' There was no name on this note, nor was there time to contact a penmanship expert to determine who wrote it. Despite the lack information, however, Ichirou suspected that the kidnapper was actually Kenshiro. The author's word choice was similar to that old samurai, and the request he made struck the Miyano heir as suspicious. 'Who else,' he thought, 'would specifically ask for Robin: a rookie guard that had only recently joined the family?'

Ichirou could tell that this invitation was a trap, but he had little choice other than to accept. If he wanted to save his sister, he would have to put his faith in Robin, and so the two of them suited up in armor as quickly as they could, preparing for the inevitable ambush. They started out toward the Han'nichi warehouse once their preparations were complete, but were subsequently stopped at the gate. A couple of the men that had been with them on the riverbank exactly month before were waiting to bar their exit at the southern entrance of the estate. These two men practically begged Ichirou to help, and so the eldest son, after suffering much of their badgering, agreed to their request on the condition that they stayed out of sight until he gave the family signal. The two guards submitted to this demand, thereby allowing the quartet to move south through the city without any further delay.

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Tue May 30, 2017 6:08 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

[OOC: I don't own the picture here. ]

Over the next month, Robin and I spent nearly every minute of daylight together. While her noble master had specified "some time" at the beginning of our arrangement, he actually designated a significant portion of Robin's day to her time with me. From dawn to dusk, Robin and I were together on that riverbank: painting, having meals, conversing and even exercising. Based on appearances alone, I would have thought that this behavior on Miyano's part was just his way of being enthusiastic about my painting philosophy. In reality, he was using Robin to get even with Kenshiro.

Despite the fact that the senior warrior was sworn to be Miyano's guardian for life, Miyano didn't much care for Kenshiro or his family. The two of them argued behind closed doors constantly, often getting very animated. In fact, the arguments got so fierce during Robin's training that, during one incident, Kenshiro actually took a swipe at Miyano with his own sword. The nobleman managed to escape the scuffle with only a few scratches, but Kenshiro quickly found himself exiled afterward.

I wouldn't have known anything about this situation had a couple of Horitshi guardsmen not come to visit Robin and me about halfway through the month. They wanted to check up on us, because Kenshiro had apparently made threats against the Miyano household just before disappearing in the aftermath of his assault. He was a wanted criminal because of his actions, with an undeniable grudge against Robin and me for the recent painting incident. Yet, as I told the guardsmen that day, Kenshiro hadn't shown up at all since the day I met Robin. It was as if he had simply vanished without a trace, and so the guards left us alone.
    
Meanwhile, Robin and I were growing closer every day regardless of whatever was going on in the world of Nisshokian nobility. Throughout the course of Crescere, I started to develop a fondness for her, and I grew to enjoy helping her break out of her shell. She talked to me about cooking and her love of food, as well as her favorite sushi roll recipe. In exchange, I told her stories about previous, odd jobs I had had over my years in painting. For obvious reasons, I avoided anything incriminating in those stories, but I tried to be as open and friendly as possible.

The month went on like this for most of its duration, and Robin eventually rewarded me with something that I didn't even know I wanted in the first place. Near the end of our stay together, I actually saw her genuinely smile for the first time. Before that point, all of her smiles had felt forced like she was trying to hide the misery she was actually feeling. Yet, once she felt comfortable enough around me to give a true smile, I couldn't help but notice how infectious it was.



It was at that point that I decided to make my last day with her something she could remember. I started working on a portrait of Robin, specifically one that captured her smile along with the tears of laughter that had accompanied it. Day and night, I slaved over that painting, taking care to hide it from Robin's gaze until the final moment. Then, when that day arrived, I left it out on the riverbank facing the same way that Robin always came in the morning. I even put out a bento box filled with her favorite sushi roll that I had learned to prepare on my own, waiting for her to arrive so that the two of us could have a small celebration after a month of hard work.

…But, unlike all the other days, Robin never showed up. Her bento box remained untouched for at least an hour after she was scheduled to arrive, and I was left observing the painting alone. I grew worried about this sudden change – especially since I didn't know Robin as a flake – so I quickly went looking for her further up the riverbank. I found nothing, of course, but, when I returned, I saw nothing but destruction.

In the span of 15 minutes that I had been away, someone had trampled over my studio. Robin's easel was snapped in two, her paint supplies scattered everywhere. The lunch I had prepared for her was emptied out onto the ground, stamped into the dirt and inedible. And the portrait, the one I had worked hard on to show Robin the beauty of her own smile, was vandalized beyond repair.

I picked up the only brush that had been left untouched in that place when I found it, and saw the same black paint on its bristles that had been used to twist Robin's smile into a frown. It smelled of the men that had been with Kenshiro exactly one month ago, and I felt my anger growing just looking at it. My teeth clenched in that morning sun, same as my grip around the brush. The only difference between the two was that the wood snapped long before my jaw hurt.

Author: Anima, Posted: Mon May 29, 2017 2:44 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

[OOC: From here on, I will no longer keep Natsumi's and Robin's dialogue completely isolated between posts. Robin's dialogue is bolded and italicized, whereas Natsumi's is just bolded.]

As her companions started walking away, Robin's speech became little more than gibberish.

"B-but I- huh?" She had been sucked into an agreement that had no input from her and with little time to react. Her hand reached toward Miyano's back just as he was dropping out of sight, but he was already long gone by the time she had a chance to do anything else. My greeting was only thing that shocked her back to reality, at which point she dropped her outstretched palm.

Robin was still very shy back then, so she took some time in answering me once the two of us were alone. Eventually, she cautiously raised her hands up to her face and slowly removed the oni mask from it. She carefully set that mask down on the table next to my easel, and then awkwardly grasped my hand.

"Hello, Shiro," she said somewhat quietly in the morning sun. She was clearly uncomfortable commenting on her current employer, so she skipped over that bit of my introduction entirely. Instead, she went straight to her name. "My name is Robin: Robin Taiyo Mori of the Ataiyan, Mori warrior clan. It's nice to meet you."

I recognized the name Mori immediately, for reasons that I have already described. Unfortunately, I can't say that my reaction to it was anything less than hurtful and shortsighted.

"That's an old name," I said back then. "You must be very proud." Nowadays, I would feel awful if I made a comment like that to Robin. Her "family" had long abused her and kept her from having a normal life. Honor and Stockholm syndrome were the only reasons she never said anything about it, even if she was still visibly uncomfortable whenever someone brought up their name.

"I-I suppose, but can we focus on painting instead of my family? A month isn't that much time for me to learn." She was stuttering while speaking, and trying to avoid eye contact with me as soon as I had opened my mouth. Being an abuse victim myself, I recognized the signs, but didn't feel right prying into her situation at the time; at least not without an open invitation. I tried to ignore it, to keep my own mask on, but it was difficult not to see the similarities between us even as I forced the outward appearance of exuberance.

"You are right," I exclaimed through my thinly veiled sympathy! I pushed aside my worry in favor of teaching my student of circumstance, and quickly jotted down everything I needed for the coming month. There was a long shopping list we had to get through, and each item on that list needed to be fetched the very first day. With little time to lose, I grabbed Robin's hand and sprinted toward town with her in tow. "So I guess we had better go get you an easel! You can't very well paint without a canvas and supplies!"

Shocked yet again, Robin was hard pressed to keep up with the sudden change of pace.

"Whoa! Wait," she shouted! Eventually, she caught up to speed, but not before realizing that painting with me as her teacher wasn't going to be some dainty exercise reserves for frail people. The two of us spent the rest of the day shopping for her tools, and she went home very sore that night from carrying everything back to the riverbank.
 

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Sun May 28, 2017 4:48 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

I thought very little of the arrangement at the time it was offered, not fully realizing its potential repercussions. Back then, I was simply eyeing the commission as a way to shut up a loud-mouthed asshole – aka Kenshiro –, so I took it without a second thought.

"I don't mind that at all. By all means." Miyano smiled widely at this response of mine before signalling his men to follow him away from the river.

"Then the training starts now!" He started walking away almost instantaneously, metaphorically dragging behind him an utterly defeated Kenshiro. Just before he was out of sight, though, he reiterated the terms of the deal. "Every day from now until the end of Crescere, the rookie will join you here on this riverbank. I expect her to be able to draw a fantastic portrait by the end of her stay with you. Please do not disappoint."

And just like that, they were gone. Only Robin was left in their wake, utterly confused about what had just happened to her. She was dumbstruck at the speed with which she was given a new assignment, though I didn't leave her stuck in that mindset for long before introducing myself.

"Your lord certainly holds great confidence in someone he didn't even ask the name of," I said while setting my palette and implements down in the silence. Afterward, I approached Robin slowly, and then offered my hand to her in greeting. "Honestly, though, I often go by monikers rather than my actual name when it comes to paintings. You can call me Shiro, like the color; and, as your teacher that you're stuck with for the rest of the month, I'd ask that you take your mask off when introducing yourself to me. You can put it back on when you leave, just not while you're painting."

Author: Anima, Posted: Sun May 28, 2017 3:21 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Before that point, Robin and Miyano had been musing over my landscape with hushed admiration. Eventually, Miyano was the first to break that silence, beginning his comment with, "It's," but Robin, much to the young lord's surprise, finished his thought for him.

"Beautiful." Robin caught herself after she subconsciously said what she was thinking, but not before her colleagues snickered. Kenshiro just stewed, especially when I pointed out that even a "tenderfoot" like his subordinate could learn to paint as well as his brother. Of course, Robin, being far too modest for her own good, also doubted her ability at the time. I still remember the shock in her voice when she heard my explanation of advantage, and how, back then, she tried to politely tell me I was wrong. "Oh no, no," she had exclaimed! "I couldn't paint like that. Your portrait is gorgeous even though it's incomplete! I don't wish to offend you or painters like you."

Had that been the last word between us, Robin and I would likely have never met again. Yet fate had other plans in mind for the two of us. Miyano got an idea in his head, you see, something that would later cost him his life. He decided to poke Kenshiro further, and looked squarely at Robin before speaking up.

"Mmm, I think that can be remedied," he began before I could say anything else. Robin regarded this sudden change in her lord quizzically, her mask hiding the innocent expression underneath it.

"My lord," she asked? Yet Miyano just turned toward me before revealing his intention.

"What say you, painter? Would you be willing to teach my newest addition how to paint as a testament to your philosophy? If she learns well enough, I may even ask you for a commission a month from now."

Of course, as you can expect, Kenshiro's face paled at this suggestion from his superior. His expression was absolutely livid, and he could hardly contain himself from shouting.

"Lord Miyano! You can't be serious!" Yet the nobleman he was raising his voice to was deadly serious. He merely regaled his subordinate with a conniving smile, and then continued in the face of protest even as Robin started slumping in an effort to hide.

"But I am. I will set aside time every day for our newest addition to come learn from the good painter. If I am satisfied with her progress a month from now, I will recommend this man to my parents for their wedding anniversary. Is that alright with you, good painter?"

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2017 1:06 AM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Seeing the samurai so dejected after being thoroughly reprimanded was a sweet delight for me, and it only got sweeter when he opened himself up for a coup de grace. Kenshiro couldn't leave well enough alone, and had to keep selling his story despite his lord's obvious displeasure."But I still think that you could find better artists in town, Lord Miyano. Surely a vagrant can't paint."  

The young Miyano regarded Kenshiro with no small amount of disdain for the fact that he was still talking, but his displeasure eased when I spoke up in his place.

"Anyone can paint," I said with a jovial tone still intact. My external mood appeared completely unfazed by the brute in front of me, and most people in his group were either envious or amazed that I spoke so freely in front of a much taller and intimidating man. Regardless of the reactions from that company, however, I continued to speak my mind without pause. "There's no special talent to it. Your only limitation is your imagination."

Motioning to my canvas, I picked up my utensils and started in once more. The hunters looked on as I took the paint knife and constructed the base of the Tori mountains from a mixture of prussian blue, midnight black, van dyke brown, and alizarin crimson. I smoothed out the initial tops of those mountains with a two inch brush, creating downward slopes and the appearance of mist at the bottom to mirror some light fog like we had that morning. Then, after cleaning off the brush and knife, I used the latter to apply a thin coat of titanium white to the eastern side of the mountains. The western side received a similar treatment, but with phthalo blue mixed into the titanium white in order to create a shadow effect. Finally, I took the dry, two inch brush and tapped along the base of the mountains to finish off the mist effect I was going for.

In total, that portion of the landscape took me about five minutes to create, and all of my guests, save for Kenshiro, were impressed with the result. Miyano went back to his observations with renewed enthusiasm once he witnessed the change. This was just before I spoke up once more while motioning toward Robin.

"My only advantage in comparison to someone like your rookie here is in time, and that's not really an advantage because anyone can improve their time. Like all crafts in life, speed takes practice."

Author: Anima, Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2017 6:58 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Enjoyment, I said, but the ill-tempered guard was having none of it.

"You enjoy making garbage?" As you can see, no sooner had I "invited him to my fire" – as it were – had he seen fit to comment that said fire was small and ugly. I was accustomed to art critics, particularly bad ones given my long history of painting, but I also recognized that this person was just being rude. And he continued to be that way for the remainder of our meeting. "Can you believe this guy, rookie?"

That was supposed to be Robin's cue to join in, but she looked startled when the samurai brought her into the conflict. Her shoulders perked up, and she frantically looked up at the intimidating man with a surprised expression under that mask.

"Me," she asked, to which the 'captain' responded incredulously and sarcastically?

"No, the other rookie. Yes, you, tenderfoot!" Robin hurriedly drew closer to my painting at that point, driven on by fear of punishment, and looked through the eyeholes of her mask at the titanium white and phthalo blue that covered the canvas. I had only just started the composition, so there wasn't much beyond a horizon and some happy clouds. She didn't really have an eye for art at that point, but even she recognized that it was far too early to judge.

"Well," she began timidly, "he seems to have just started, and the sky already looks nice with the clouds. With all due respect, sir, I wouldn't call it garbage when he's not even finished." As you can imagine, the captain didn't like hearing that response from Robin one bit. He was silently fuming beneath his armor for a good few moments before finally regaining his composure.

"Leave it to a rookie to demonstrate that she knows nothing about art. With strokes like that, this man couldn't even sell a painting if he wanted to. The artists in Nisshoki are far superior to this crude vagrant's attempts." But, of course, the man would soon regret those words of his. His lord, for all his child-like curiosity, demonstrated some backbone once he realized how persistent this guard of his was being. He stopped admiring my painting at that point, and then turned to the man on his right.

"That's enough, Kenshiro." The samurai regarded his boss in disbelief once he heard this, but didn't speak for fear of dishonoring himself. "Your subordinate is right that it's too early to judge the portrait when it's only being started. I may not know art, but I know when someone's trying too hard to curry favor with my family."

"Sir," Kenshiro asked when greeted by this thinly veiled accusation from his master?

"Your brother just opened up an art gallery and is trying to get a contract going with my parents to commemorate their 20th wedding anniversary with a large portrait: something that stands to make him quite a few kin." There was a very tense pause at this point before the nobleman continued, and the tall-statured Kenshiro looked very uncomfortable after how easily the man had pinpointed his hidden agenda. Robin had actually moved over toward me in order to avoid getting in between those two, but wasn't speaking for fear of incurring wrath from those on high. She just watched the cold war unfolding before us. "If you continue to be rude or if you even think about punishing your subordinate for not going along with you here, I'll make sure my parents never hire your brother. Do I make myself clear?"

There was another pause then, like Kenshiro was trying to find a way to salvage the situation, but, in the end, he gave up.

"Yes, sir."

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2017 5:36 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

Of course, there was little reason to believe that the young lord would die within the year, given what I saw of him during our riverbank meeting. He was full of energy and curiosity, and seemed remarkably carefree for Ataiyan nobility. His laid back demeanor would have made him a town favorite among peasants, even if it probably perturbed his parents who wanted him to act like his class.

When this inquisitive boy spoke to me, I got the sense that he meant no harm. He even waited for my acknowledgement before coming closer, so I responded to his courtesy with some of my own.

"Yes, the mountains finally have their little white hats from Glaciem, so I decided to come out here to enjoy a little scenery." I turned to face the hunters with my pallet still in hand and a smile on my face. The white hairs of my beard gave off the illusion that I'd just been in the snow, and I received more than my fair share of puzzled glances from the men in front of me. Afros weren't common in that area of the world, let alone white ones. The hairstyle added a bit of mystery to me whilst still making me seem human, and I did so love the nuances it brought to conversation. "You're welcome to watch if you want. I certainly don't mind."

The young lord approached at that point, flanked by a large man on his right. He marveled at the painting for a bit, acting like a child who wasn't accustomed to art in general. The man was his 'captain of the guard', and he brought Robin along with him during the approach in order to guard their master from both sides.

Unfortunately, that 'captain,' as I would later find out, was not just approaching out of curiosity like the nobleman had. He was less than thrilled with my presence, and had come to voice his disdain. He merely brought Robin along because he wanted to intimidate her into agreeing with him: rookie hazing, as it were. I didn't learn about that till later, nor did I really expect it from the sudden and drastic shift that our meeting took.

"How much do you sell these for?" The captain had asked his question in a gruff voice while his ward continued in admiration. The two of us had a relatively terse atmosphere going on from that one question that should have been uneventful. Because I was painting, the temptation to throw him into the river for being rude was lessened, but his emotions were definitely less constrained than mine. He could barely veil his disdain after I responded with the truth, let alone before I had even answered him.

"Oh, something like this is more for my enjoyment. I take commissions, but those aren't the only things I paint."

Author: Anima, Posted: Tue Apr 25, 2017 7:40 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

During that Glaciem, the Mori family had just finished training their newest generation of warriors. The traditions of Ataiyo had changed much over the years since the region's founding, but some of the older families still maintained their traditions since the first generation. For Mori, one such tradition was to train their members in tune with the seasons. Training began at an early age in Ignis to signify the hot blood of youth they aimed to temper and was always scheduled to end on the first day of Terra several years after initiation. By ending in Terra, the family signified the birth of new warriors after the hard, survival training of Glaciem was complete.

When I was painting down by the riverbank, the first day of Terra had just begun. Robin was among the recruits who graduated that season, and she had collected her graduation gifts at dawn. As was customary for all graduates of the Mori dojo, she received a set of blue lacquered armor as well as a pair of katanas. Immediately after suiting up with these armaments, she was ordered to report to her new charge that she was expected to serve until the day she died.

That was how I met her for the first time. The lord that Robin was serving had decided to go on a hunting trip that day, and his company happened by my canvas on their way home. The bulkiest of the warriors carried the carcass of a wild hog that the company had hunted: one large enough feed an entire family for days. Robin was relegated to the rear guard of this party, and wearing a mask depicting an oni. I found out later that this was her superior's way of designating the rookie of the group, but you couldn't tell from looking at her that day. She carried herself with the pride of a veteran.

I still remember exactly how the conversation between her lord and me went that day. He purposefully stopped on the trek home once he noticed my landscape portrait, and shouted out before approaching me with Robin and the others in tow.

"Good morning, fair painter! Capturing the Tori Mountains, are we?" He was a young thing, barely out of his youth and probably the son of a wealthy noble. I would have never guessed during our initial meeting that the hunting trip he had just returned from was the last of his life.

Author: CodeNat, Posted: Tue Apr 25, 2017 6:57 PM, Post Subject: The Knight and The Painter[P][R]

[OOC: This story is told from Natsumi's perspective, so all posts in this thread where it says "I" are made with the assumption that Natsumi is the narrator.]

You're probably wondering by this point why I seem to have departed from Ataiyo in my writings. The land was remarkably similar to my own homeland before its destruction, after all; so much so that I could say I simply didn't want to talk about it for fear of dredging up bad memories and one would fault me for that decision. Yet, the problem with this assumption is that I didn't really hate the country I came from nor did I, by extension, ever hate its mirror image. There's not really an excuse filled with malice as to why I haven't discussed Ataiyo in so long. It's simply the fact that that place became very personal to me after a certain series of events took place, enough that I kept my experiences close to the vest.

Before I get into the beginnings of this saga, however, I think it's only fair that I explain something I have neglected to mention about myself thus far. While my first visitation to Revaliir portrayed me as a scholar and archaeologist, that personality was actually a shadow of a much younger me. The real me hadn't been that way for many years by the time I reached Revaliir. It's true that I was still a spy by that point and so data gathering was my primary responsibility, but assignments for my job came infrequently at best. On my off time, I didn't move between unexplored worlds without reason. In fact, I was rarely in unfamiliar terrain for more than fleeting moments in the grand scheme of my life.

This lack of novelty combined with my primary directive as a spy – i.e. to absorb the knowledge of entire worlds after infiltrating them – contributed to a very dismal existence very quickly. In any given world, I would possess an entire universe of knowledge readily accessible and at my fingertips, and yet I would be completely devoid of any ambition to use it! Because, even if I didn't remember a theorem or law off the top of my head, I could easily look it up whenever and wherever I wanted. After that, all I had to do was apply the theorems in order to solve and explain every phenomenon in a given world. Science and magic became boring with this setup: mundane. Nothing was ever a surprise because I essentially became a grandmaster overnight, leaving nothing but efficiency practice to strive toward.

Yet there's one thing, I discovered, that I could never master no matter how much data I gathered on it: art. Art, you see, is in the eye of the beholder. You can never paint a perfect picture or craft a perfect sculpture, because everyone has different tastes.  Paint for a lifetime, and you might be respected, but a novice could still easily outdo you with a new and interesting take. Or, perhaps, you could offend a culture simply because your painting does not keep up with changing social trends.

Art, in general, appealed to me because of the fact that the reaction and style was always different. This especially became true after the long vacations started to set in, and the practice even became therapeutic. I would frequently abscond to various places in the worlds I visited, pursuing my craft as I went. I painted landscapes as well as people, usually disguising myself as the most common race of an area while doing so. My style was more naturalistic than anything, so I wanted the world to show me its docile face rather than a fearful or suspicious one. My favorite persona to use, in fact, was a middle aged man with a white afro and beard, whose calm demeanor could soothe even the most savage of beasts.

The story of Ataiyo mentioned earlier began on a day I was using that favorite facade of mine. I was standing on a river bank at the southern edge of the Menomori forest, painting a landscape of trees and clouds. My canvas was situated facing the Tori mountain range that separated Railoch from Ataiyo, and the Glaciem snow was still perfectly covering the mountain tops in front of me like little white hats. Since I was dressed as a man, I was also wearing an overcoat and vest, with a pair common trousers and shirt underneath to portray myself as well off but not nobleman status.

That day was actually something special. It was the first time I met Robin.