Sazawari would not claim himself to be a gourmet, but he enjoyed a nice meal just as well as the next one. He understood that everyone had their own personal preferences when it came to tastes, consistence and presentation, but could not for the life of it understand how someone could enjoy eating mushrooms. Yes, he had tried to taste it several times during his so far relatively short life, four times to be exact, and each and every time it had tasted like slowly boiled rubber with poor spicing. So how he came to find himself on this poorly prepared and constructed endeavor in aid of the least appetizing growth in the world, he could not quite understand. Of course, he knew why in the long run, but he knew he had the option to decline. It would be noted down, without a doubt, and he was already on the edge when it came to the instructors due to his lack of enthusiasm and attention in the classes. Thus, he found himself in a situation of “forced freedom”, where the only free choice benefiting to him would be to accept the tasks he was set to.
The old man had already left before Sazawari arrived, which he silently thanked whichever circumstance had caused him this tiny twinkle of luck. As he opened the door, his expectations were sent crashing under the sight that met him. Sparkly clean and shining from floors to roofs. The food was sorted and stacked, the harvests were collected and the mushrooms needed but two things; Peace and time. He sat down on the couch inside, sipping to the iced tea the wrinkled owner had left for him and waiting for the oven to reach a certain temperature so he could reheat some leftovers which had been left along with the drink. It didn’t take long before the scent of hot air and heated flesh to spread throughout the compartments of the abode, and the sound of the hungry belly of the young boy growling was silenced by the meal.
He had almost dozed off, his awareness a completely different place, when he heard the sounds. He had at first believed himself to imagine the noises, simply turning his head on the pillow and pulling the blanket closer up around his shoulders. It didn’t take long before he had been woken up once more by the very same disturbance, only louder in strength. Was it birds? He sat up and shot a quick glance above the edge of the windowsill, attempting to spot any potential source. Nothing. Complete silence. He closed the window and flipped the pillow, turning the chilled side upwards and the heated counterpart the opposite way, before he followed suit with the blanket, flipping the outwards upwards side with lower temperature downwards. Once more, he went to sleep.
Now he heard it clearly. His eyes shot open and he sat up in his bed. Without a doubt, he was certain that he had detected intruders. Already dressed most of his outfit, he donned the leather long coat and armed himself with the miniature sword by his side, the ninjatou he had recently procured, and the primitive yet effective tool of death that was the blowgun he kept in a pocket within the coat. By the sound of it, he doubted that lethal force would be necessary, but that didn’t stop him from scaring them a little bit, making the job easier for him in the future. He stopped for a moment, listening. After a split second, he caught the sound of the muffled laughter of younglings heading towards his location. He found a corner to hide behind, and waited.
Their arms sprung right up into the air, hands open wide and palms facing outwards, indicating the lack of threat they would possess. Complete submission. With dull, solid *thmbs*, the sacks of mushrooms in their hands fell to the ground as a direct result of their reaction to his appearance. It was sudden. He had fired a dart into the mushroom one of them was about to pick up before jumping out from behind the rock, armed with drawn blade. A sharp, yet loud sound that was the combined power of the lungs of three young boys cut through the air. They didn’t move. They simply stood there, arms raised, eyes wide and jaws gaping while they screamed with all the force they could muster. It lasted for about half a minute. Then, all of a sudden, they both stopped, probably out of air. Not a word was said. No words were needed. Their arms still raised, their eyes fixed at Sazawaris, they simply began to walk backwards for about ten steps, before they turned and ran. That night, and the following two nights, he had no troubles with skulking brats. Eventually, the old farmer returned home and relieved the guard of his duty. Finally.
[MFT]
WC: 822
The old man had already left before Sazawari arrived, which he silently thanked whichever circumstance had caused him this tiny twinkle of luck. As he opened the door, his expectations were sent crashing under the sight that met him. Sparkly clean and shining from floors to roofs. The food was sorted and stacked, the harvests were collected and the mushrooms needed but two things; Peace and time. He sat down on the couch inside, sipping to the iced tea the wrinkled owner had left for him and waiting for the oven to reach a certain temperature so he could reheat some leftovers which had been left along with the drink. It didn’t take long before the scent of hot air and heated flesh to spread throughout the compartments of the abode, and the sound of the hungry belly of the young boy growling was silenced by the meal.
He had almost dozed off, his awareness a completely different place, when he heard the sounds. He had at first believed himself to imagine the noises, simply turning his head on the pillow and pulling the blanket closer up around his shoulders. It didn’t take long before he had been woken up once more by the very same disturbance, only louder in strength. Was it birds? He sat up and shot a quick glance above the edge of the windowsill, attempting to spot any potential source. Nothing. Complete silence. He closed the window and flipped the pillow, turning the chilled side upwards and the heated counterpart the opposite way, before he followed suit with the blanket, flipping the outwards upwards side with lower temperature downwards. Once more, he went to sleep.
Now he heard it clearly. His eyes shot open and he sat up in his bed. Without a doubt, he was certain that he had detected intruders. Already dressed most of his outfit, he donned the leather long coat and armed himself with the miniature sword by his side, the ninjatou he had recently procured, and the primitive yet effective tool of death that was the blowgun he kept in a pocket within the coat. By the sound of it, he doubted that lethal force would be necessary, but that didn’t stop him from scaring them a little bit, making the job easier for him in the future. He stopped for a moment, listening. After a split second, he caught the sound of the muffled laughter of younglings heading towards his location. He found a corner to hide behind, and waited.
Their arms sprung right up into the air, hands open wide and palms facing outwards, indicating the lack of threat they would possess. Complete submission. With dull, solid *thmbs*, the sacks of mushrooms in their hands fell to the ground as a direct result of their reaction to his appearance. It was sudden. He had fired a dart into the mushroom one of them was about to pick up before jumping out from behind the rock, armed with drawn blade. A sharp, yet loud sound that was the combined power of the lungs of three young boys cut through the air. They didn’t move. They simply stood there, arms raised, eyes wide and jaws gaping while they screamed with all the force they could muster. It lasted for about half a minute. Then, all of a sudden, they both stopped, probably out of air. Not a word was said. No words were needed. Their arms still raised, their eyes fixed at Sazawaris, they simply began to walk backwards for about ten steps, before they turned and ran. That night, and the following two nights, he had no troubles with skulking brats. Eventually, the old farmer returned home and relieved the guard of his duty. Finally.
[MFT]
WC: 822