NappingSnuggs

The man sitting before it eyed the piece of craftsmanship with distrusting eyes, as if his success in acquiring the position he now inhabited had been an elaborate ruse to lull him into a false sense of security; as if at any second, the looming darkness would reach its deadly claws out for him and snap his neck. Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no room for self-doubt in the path he had chosen.

Dripping some water into an oval stone, he mixed a small reservoir of ink and dipped a brush into it.

Fourteenth day of the fifth month, year one of the Shingetsu period. Concerns: The conflicts occurring at Shōgun Orochi’s parade of this same day. As a means to celebrate the honorable Shōgun Orochi and his accomplishments in developing the military forces of Wano Kuni, a parade was held. During this time, multiple citizens refused to show their respect by bowing down. Duty in its most crucial form demanded the immediate kirisute of the perpetrators and trials to be arranged for the surviving individuals. The honorable Shōgun will personally attend their executions in the following days. Until then, the remaining ones are to be kept in the Rasetsu-chō prison.

With the final brush stroke, his own clutch on his dark blue kimono began to tighten, narrowed eyes fixed on his sash and the katana denting his coat. While any form of disrespect to the Shōgun was to be treated as a crime punishable by death, the thought of the honorable lives he had ended for such trivial causes made his blood boil.

However, the impurity he had brought over himself and the duties he now had to fulfill paled in comparison to the debt he owed, the promise that was made. The bitter lump in his throat might not cease existing due to that reassurance – and he preferred it never shall – but the immense sense of purpose guided him. Their lives had been lost for a reason; the same cause he would continue to follow, regardless of the many dangers all around. After concealing the report in an envelope of rice paper, he held the burning candle over it and sealed it with his new crest’s symbol.

At least, so he thought, silence and quiet have been granted to me here. All he needed to plan and keep a calm head.

In that moment, hurried footsteps arrived before the door of the yakuza boss’ chambers. He could hear the urgency in the way no heed was given to the nightingale floor outside and naturally, an assassin wouldn’t even have gotten this far with such demeanor. His brows knitted together time and time again as the security device made unpleasant chirping noises and he wondered if he would eventually get used to their sound – for better or worse. Rising from the silk pillow he had been kneeling on, he granted the shadow behind the paper door entrance before they had even formally made their presence known.

One of his shatai, the so-called ‘little brothers’ and lowest ranking of his yakuza subordinates fell onto his knees before him with a somewhat bewildered expression. Perhaps the boss should have followed a conventional greeting to avoid such confusion and delay. On the other hand, he found some kind of childlike enjoyment in catching people off-guard.

“Kyoshiro-oyabun!” the man Kyoshiro vaguely remembered to be called Hotaka exclaimed and pressed his forehead to the ground. The shatai’s light grey kimono was slightly tilted at the hem, revealing inked shoulders’ depiction of a blue dragon.

“Say, what is it you wish to tell me with such urgency?” Kyoshiro asked with a calm grin.

“Right! Lordship Orochi the Shōgun is on his way to here! He requested another meeting,” the man nodded, glad to have caught his breath when it mattered.

Another meeting? And not only that, but a meeting in his own residence in Sakyo? Just hours ago, the yakuza boss had visited the Shōgun castle to discuss the rebels’ prosecution, so he had taken it everything of importance had already been settled. While he would love to ask Hotaka for details, he was confident the young man hadn’t been told about them either. Despite his wariness, he remained focused. There was much to be prepared for their guests’ arrival.

“How many are we going to welcome?” Kyoshiro asked, gesturing for Hotaka to follow him outside and down the elevated balcony. The boss was greeted with polite bows of multiple construction workers standing on the scaffolding surrounding this building and the integrated pagoda tower specifically. After all, no one had made an effort to maintain its venerability in years. “Refreshments have to be arranged immediately.”

“No need to worry for the quantity, Kyoshiro-oyabun! According to the messengers, aside from the Shōgun, only two more visitors are looking to speak with you,” aside from the dozens of guards, the yakuza boss thought as they descended multiple flights of stairs. “The latter being chief magistrate Fukurokuju and Lady Miokuri.” Just as Hotaka finished that sentence, they entered a very long room with a high coffered ceiling, supported by many dark pillars and an abundance of free space in the middle. The banquet hall. Many servants were roaming around, already preparing for Orochi’s arrival and the smell of meals being prepared rushed into Kyoshiro’s nose.

But the enticing prospect of a warm meal didn’t draw his attention away. Lady Miokuri? He hadn’t met her in person yet, and while her name had been introduced to him upon starting to work for the Shōgun, all he had heard so far was that talking to her was considered a bad omen among the castle’s administration. It would be useless to consider the alarm bells this ominous information awoke in his mind. After all, he still had to manage his subordinates for the time being. Appearing brooding before them wouldn’t reflect well on them. Instead, he donned a wide grin and swung an arm around Hotaka’s shoulder.

“Lady Miokuri! One of the finest beauties of Wano, what luck! I’ll have to make sure to keep our time spent together in vivid memory,” he chuckled, surprising the smaller man as he suddenly let go again.

“But! But Kyoshiro-oyabun, haven’t you heard?“ The shatai uselessly protested as the servants around him answered his frustration with shrugging shoulders and the sympathetic shaking of their heads. Without waiting another moment, their leader crossed the room towards another roofed porch to the south that encircled the entire ground-floor with even more slender pillars and railings. Together with two extensions of the porch on both far sides of the building, it was situated atop the verge of a steep slope covered in smooth stone slabs. Supported by an elaborate system of wooden constructions, the deep drop towards the city didn’t even register in full.

It granted somewhat of a good view over the Flower Capital – its many colorful rooftops, the roads, market places – and the Shōgun castle close by towards the east. Some of his men, among them many high-ranking officers standing on the porch immediately interrupted their conversations and bowed down to say their greetings and made space for their boss to step through. Kyoshiro exchanged pleasantries with them and basked in the warm sun light for a moment.

“You heard the news, so let’s be on our best behavior,” Kyoshiro frowned, which was met with silent nods of solidarity.

--

Soon, the blue-haired yakuza boss was informed their prominent guests were about to arrive. Walking down a flight of stairs underneath a dark, roofed gateway, Kyoshiro observed his subordinates. They were already gathered up in rows sorted by rank and bowed down to the ground when dozens of samurai passed through between them. Right after the group, three dark, lacquered and richly decorated norimono were carried before the stairs leading to the innermost grounds of the premises. Four Horse SMILE users each lowered the portable constructs, from which Orochi was the first to ooze out of. With his usual sinister smile, he greeted the bowing yakuza boss with an absent-minded nod of his unproportionately huge head. Fukurokuju appeared behind the Shōgun like a shadow, making sure to bow politely, if only slightly. Both of them seemed relaxed and without bad news on their minds, but such a sense of security was often misguided in front of self-assured opponents.

“It is to our regret to disturb your peace once more today, Kyoshiro-oyabun,” Fukurokuju began, the nonchalance in his voice clearly showing his dishonesty. “I see it was a good decision to put one of the Kozuki’s old mansions under your care. Maybe this way it can receive a spiritual cleansing as it deserves to.”

“Indeed, priests have already visited,” he smiled as his pompadour cast a distinct shadow over his face. “By no means do we intend to let the generous offer go to waste through negligence.”

Pleased by this answer as if some sort of superstitious fear had been taken off the Shōgun’s shoulders, he eyed the building with a triumphant smile. “I expect nothing less,” his coarse voice croaked. Eyeing Kyoshiro’s sheathed katana, he stepped closer to his personal guard dog, “What about the report?”

Kyoshiro nodded and offered the envelope to Orochi. While it couldn’t technically be counted among his many duties to write down crime reports – which was usually kept for the police force of the Mimawarigumi – he wouldn’t protest as long as it didn’t keep him from more time-sensitive business. “Excellent. You really are always prepared, hm?” Orochi commented, considering the report had originally been due within a couple days. It took no scholar to understand they were still testing his obedience. “I take it, I can count on you for every other similar occasion. Or even better – you will make sure something like this isn’t even thought about. Behead them along with their odoriferous plans! Every last one who dares to disobey.” Some of the servants flinched at the Shōgun’s harsh tone. Before long, the man would talk himself into a manic string of hysterical, but admittedly realistic thoughts again, so the yakuza boss dared to interject.

“Of course, Orochi-sama,” Kyoshiro frowned, as if it went without saying he would do all of the aforementioned in a heartbeat. “It is my greatest duty to serve you.”

Nodding with a somewhat uneasy expression, the Shōgun and his advisor suddenly looked over their shoulders to pass a glance at the commotion going on down the road they had arrived from. Within seconds, the whole path was filled to the brim with servants, each carrying a visibly heavy chest, although they didn’t let it be known through their body language. Kyoshiro’s puzzlement was evident by expression alone, until his widened eyes fell onto the third litter that had yet to open. The sudden shift in his composure didn’t go unnoticed by his visitors and especially Fukurokuju had to hide a smirk behind his sleeve.

In unison, the servants put their respective chests on the ground with so much force, Kyoshiro thought it caused an earthquake for a moment. One of them went up to the third litter and opened its door for a wild, flaming orange hairdo to peak out of it. Only a deep dark brush, resembling a part of the Kurozumi crest managed to restrain them into an oversized bun. Her bangs in contrast, were parted in a zigzag pattern and looked perfectly straightened in an old-fashioned way, just like the duo of loose strands that framed her face and neck. With elegant movements and the help of her servant, the tall, slender woman in a deep red and black Furisode kimono adorned with eight golden rivers climbed out of the norimono. Her sharp gaze, despite partially hidden behind an equally as elaborate fan, seemed to pierce right through him, but quickly fell aside and to the ground just the way societal norms – Orochi’s norms – mandated a woman’s modesty.

Surprised glances of Kyoshiro’s subordinates went around and some of the maids seemed awfully invested in this turn of events. Something he should keep an eye on.

“Since you seem to have understood by now, let’s take this inside, shall we?”