“ Oh? But I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, master. ” ( fuq da rulez )

“ Is that so? Your eyes speak a different truth. Do you honestly expect me to believe you’ve gotten a healthy amount of sleep now when you would not before? ” He raises a brow, hands hidden within his sleeves. Tfw your ‘dad’ won’t sleep.

花 — His frown deepens as he leans back into the comfort of his chair. For someone who was gone for so long, Souza Samonji has a lot to say. Arms fold at his chest as eyes roll skyward. 

"Haha ... You are too cute for such tough looking Yari." He wipes away the tears. "I was merely jesting. I trust you."

*small uchigatana tears*

@keijitori

There is a manor high upon the hill. It gazes over the sleepy village, ever vigilant of their day to day activities. Once, it was proud. The gilded tiles glimmered in the sunlight, reflecting the color of lavish and well manicured gardens. The fortified walls that lined the outside made their statement, that while this place was as beautiful as the rising sun, it was still a fortress, and would not bow. A fine testament to the lord seated fashionably at the head of his own castle, just the next city over, the same lord responsible for the peace that had finally settled across a war scarred land, allowing that sleepy village to continue at an easy pace. A fine gift to the general who once served him, just as proudly as this manor once stood.

      Now it was grim, and cold. The golden roof was tarnished, the tiles cracked. No longer did it shine. Its windows remained dark, never to be lit again. The gardens were over grown, tangled with vines and weeds, and bled into the dark, looming forest that had sprung up around those guarding walls. The bones and remains of the unfortunate littered the base of the roots of those great trees.The lord dismissed all claim to this once glorious house. The village wished they could do the same. Instead, it remained a blemish on the outskirts of their peaceful life, a leering reminder of what they had been delivered from.

      There was a legend about that manor, or rather, the man who lived there. Though could it be called a legend if it were true? Most of it anyway. After all, his howls of rage and sorrow wailed in the wind every night, striking fear into the souls of every person bolstered in the sanctity of their homes.

      The general was once a hero. He was a man of utmost honor, yet with a wealth of humility. His prowess with a spear was unrivaled, and he lead the lord’s troops to victory after victory. Not once had he, or anyone under his command, suffered defeat. Still, he would dismiss any praise, claiming it was only what he had been chosen to do. While a general, he was nothing more than a servant. To win was his duty.

      Though they sung of his glory, the enemy painted a different picture. A ruthless commander, bloodthirsty in the throes of battle. Body after body fell to the blade of his spear, long before their swords had the chance to nick his armor. Inhuman, he had to be. A demon, forged from the fires of hell itself. 

      Of course, no one believed it. Until one horrible, fateful night.

      There was an altercation, a vicious and raucous fight. The cause of which changes with each telling. A man insulted the general’s honor. He suspected a deceitful spy within his ranks. Whatever the true cause, the general’s well controlled secret had been revealed. His temper was true.He was every bit the demon the rumors painted him to be. Now, the blood of an innocent man was on his hands, for the world to see. 

      On his victim’s dying breath, a curse was uttered. May his rage finally consume him.

      Day by day, the war tore on. Day by day, the general’s bloodlust grew and grew. Though he continued to lead his armies to victory, he was no longer was he the humble servant that they had come to know and love. He had changed. Rage twisted his once handsome features into something grotesque, and unrecognizable. It distorted his thinking until he was no more than a beast, thinking with his teeth and claws. Victory at any cost.

      And in the end, after the war had been won, rage was all he knew.

      It happened quickly, the massacre that left the manor lifeless. Not a single soul was left alive. Not a soldier nor maid, man nor woman, nor child escaped the demons claws. Each of them were shredded until little remained. Their screams echoed through the village below, while the villagers could only gaze up in horror, shaking in their sandals.

       Then, all fell silent.

       Dawn came, and the general, now beast, beheld the atrocity by his own hands. He was abhorred by what he had done. And further shamed by his disfigured appearance, he holed himself within the walls of that grand manor, and sank into his sorrow, and his loneliness.

      Peace settled over the land. The manor fell to ruin. And the only thing remembered of the once proud, humble general, were the mournful cries from the manor on the hill.