”But moo-om, I’ve been working my ass off lately, why can’t I have my some help from your side? To reward me for my hard work, you know?” He had been given the rare opportunity to enjoy a late morning and a better breakfast consisting of light bread with sugar-coated crust, salted butter, roasted goat ham, slices of red apples which had been soaked in a bath of lemon juice over the night, goat cheese, a spice mixture composed of the few herbs they were able to grow in the underground village and leftovers from last night’s dinner serving a delicious dish of spiced rabbit thighs. In the middle of a mouthful of about everything, his mother had slowly reached under the table and picked up the letter she had resting in her lap before serving it to Sazawari. ”No, Sazawari,” she put all her vocal pressure in the first syllable of the sentence, making it very clear that this was the end of the discussion. Knowing better than to try to cross his mother, the grumbling boy took his good time finishing the meal he had desired for so long before getting ready for the mission of the day.
”I have no idea how they got in, but I woke up one night to take a piss, and they were everywhere! Everywhere! With their squeaking and squealing and constantly having to keep them out of the food cabinet! They’re ruining my pillow sheets as well, gnawing holes in them and making themselves all cozy and whatnot! I want them out by the end of the day, is that understood!?” The old man Ginoshi was an senior war veteran, appearing to many of the younglings as quite terrifying with his missing right ear and a missing chunk of his left nostril with a sharp angle leading to a nasty, jagged scar along the nose bridge and running up above his left eye, where his entire eyebrows was replaced by a burn scar that spoke of horrible pains. ”For each head of those infernal vermin you bring me I’ma pay you ten yen. But remember; Before the day is over. I’ma be somewhere else, drinking. When I return tonight, It’s done, alright?” Most people would advise to treat Mr. Ginoshi with respect, and for what he had silently promised himself what would be the exception of the rule, Sazawari decided that he would fly with the flock. Even he knew better than to anger him or disrespect him by refusing him this relatively small favor. And he definitely knew better than to turn down a good offer for a few hours of clever work. He was just lazy, after all, not stupid. ”Understood, Sir.”
Armed with the blowgun in his right hand and the short sword in his left, he entered the building, wondering about exactly how bad the situation really was. The answer would reveal itself the instant he opened the door. He could spot white and grey and brown shades of fur scurrying across the floor, always keeping to the shadows but moved just enough for you to notice them there. *Perfect… In a few hours, he said? He must’ve taken a blow or two too many during the old days.* For a few seconds, he found himself standing right up and down, dumbfounded like an imbecile, staring blankly into the air. He blinked rapidly to snap himself back to the task at hand.
*Hm, this actually didn’t suck too much. Wonder if I could get even more…* Sazawari threw yet another fist of crumbled crackers on the floor, finding a new spot free of the spilled blood and crushed bodies of the furry inhabitants. After a few minutes, the crumbles would be swarmed by the greediest of the pack, usually in numbers of about seven or eight at a time. It could take any time between two to seven minutes before a sufficient amount was gathered around the crushed snacks, and when they were closed up together, he would drop the back plate of the veteran armor of the old warrior on the collective heads and necks of the feasting rodents, crushing skulls and snapping necks. He had quickly adopted this method at the expense of the ninjatou and the blowgun, and the results had spoken for themselves.
It was still several hours until the time limit for the mission was spent, and Sazawari could exhausted after all the lifting (He had noted his own reflection upon his lack of lifting strength), but happily, strap the 75th rat corpse to the string he had stretched through the cellar hallway the long end. At the end of the string, he attached a note in the form of a scroll, before he cleaned off the blood from the armor plate and returned it to its original display and the blood, brain matter and tiny shards of rat skull on all over the floor.
At the time he was finished cleaning it all up, he would still have an hour left before the timer of the task ran out, and he put this hour to use by sitting down in the rather comfortable couch, leaning back and relaxing. With a sigh, he could hear the rumbling of his abdomen, voicing the need for nourishment. With the hope that his mother might have saved some of the leftovers from the breakfast, Sazawari exited the building and headed towards his moms kitchen.
WC: 936
”I have no idea how they got in, but I woke up one night to take a piss, and they were everywhere! Everywhere! With their squeaking and squealing and constantly having to keep them out of the food cabinet! They’re ruining my pillow sheets as well, gnawing holes in them and making themselves all cozy and whatnot! I want them out by the end of the day, is that understood!?” The old man Ginoshi was an senior war veteran, appearing to many of the younglings as quite terrifying with his missing right ear and a missing chunk of his left nostril with a sharp angle leading to a nasty, jagged scar along the nose bridge and running up above his left eye, where his entire eyebrows was replaced by a burn scar that spoke of horrible pains. ”For each head of those infernal vermin you bring me I’ma pay you ten yen. But remember; Before the day is over. I’ma be somewhere else, drinking. When I return tonight, It’s done, alright?” Most people would advise to treat Mr. Ginoshi with respect, and for what he had silently promised himself what would be the exception of the rule, Sazawari decided that he would fly with the flock. Even he knew better than to anger him or disrespect him by refusing him this relatively small favor. And he definitely knew better than to turn down a good offer for a few hours of clever work. He was just lazy, after all, not stupid. ”Understood, Sir.”
Armed with the blowgun in his right hand and the short sword in his left, he entered the building, wondering about exactly how bad the situation really was. The answer would reveal itself the instant he opened the door. He could spot white and grey and brown shades of fur scurrying across the floor, always keeping to the shadows but moved just enough for you to notice them there. *Perfect… In a few hours, he said? He must’ve taken a blow or two too many during the old days.* For a few seconds, he found himself standing right up and down, dumbfounded like an imbecile, staring blankly into the air. He blinked rapidly to snap himself back to the task at hand.
*Hm, this actually didn’t suck too much. Wonder if I could get even more…* Sazawari threw yet another fist of crumbled crackers on the floor, finding a new spot free of the spilled blood and crushed bodies of the furry inhabitants. After a few minutes, the crumbles would be swarmed by the greediest of the pack, usually in numbers of about seven or eight at a time. It could take any time between two to seven minutes before a sufficient amount was gathered around the crushed snacks, and when they were closed up together, he would drop the back plate of the veteran armor of the old warrior on the collective heads and necks of the feasting rodents, crushing skulls and snapping necks. He had quickly adopted this method at the expense of the ninjatou and the blowgun, and the results had spoken for themselves.
It was still several hours until the time limit for the mission was spent, and Sazawari could exhausted after all the lifting (He had noted his own reflection upon his lack of lifting strength), but happily, strap the 75th rat corpse to the string he had stretched through the cellar hallway the long end. At the end of the string, he attached a note in the form of a scroll, before he cleaned off the blood from the armor plate and returned it to its original display and the blood, brain matter and tiny shards of rat skull on all over the floor.
Note said:
At the time he was finished cleaning it all up, he would still have an hour left before the timer of the task ran out, and he put this hour to use by sitting down in the rather comfortable couch, leaning back and relaxing. With a sigh, he could hear the rumbling of his abdomen, voicing the need for nourishment. With the hope that his mother might have saved some of the leftovers from the breakfast, Sazawari exited the building and headed towards his moms kitchen.
WC: 936