#nasunoyasu

“if you are hungry, just ask. i will make you a meal after i’ve finished Saniwa-dono’s snacks.”

This is another person he doesn’t know anything about. So he keeps his head low and ignores the glare from the other Toudan, working over the dango until they’re just right.

          :･ﾟ🌪️┇ He’d fought to the best of his abilities, but Fujin’s powers were more assuredly depleted in Outworld. A small town had welcomed him, but then something — dark magic, had corrupted the populace of the village, turned them feral. Whatever it had been, Fujin was certain the attack had been deliberate; had been meant for him. Fujin may be strong, but the onslaught of people had taken him off-guard: pitchforks and knives and bullets and magic, a dangerous combination which had drawn him back and out of the village quickly — except they had followed, and no matter how many times he knocked them down, they got back up.

            Left for dead — for they had killed him, but immortals don’t know when to stay dead — he’d awakened under the scorching dog day sun of Outworld. His skin ached as though it was pulled from his muscles. His insides hurt. His head may have well been struck with an ice pick with every inhaled breath. He sputters and coughs dry sand from his windpipe — returning to life is as exhausting as leaving it; his powers have yet to return to him. Covered in dry blood, Fujin winces as he forces his body to shift and turn on his back… which is when he realizes there is a shadow standing right above him.

            Another villager? The Wind God snarls, teeth pressed together as another bout of pain travels across his entire being. Is he destined to be killed repeatedly until Raiden realizes Fujin has yet to return from Outworld? ❝If you are going to kill me — ❞, he croaks, ❝— do it quickly and do not toy with me. ❞

@nasunoyasu @seidanguard