Just at the edge of academy grounds a forest began to take root, the treeline hiding plants beneath the underbrush and all manner of creatures that lived above and below. No less cold nor white than the rest of the village the lifeforms it contained had long-since evolved to endure in the harsh climate, with thick pelts of fur, tough leathery skin, or an innate cunning that allowed the animals to manipulate the environment to their advantage. They hung from treetops with their faces turning and poking, or scuttled against the ground looking for food or shelter.
Takeshi sat beneath an evergreen and listened to that life as it coincided with his own. Short sharp hisses rasped through the leaves as the boy held his weapon in place between his knees with one hand and stroked its edge with a whetstone using the other. The large bulky cloak of black leather and white fur was piled up behind him as a pillow, and his sword belt lay discarded in the snow-dusted grass, revealing the thin and lanky frame of a young fifteen year old boy, too short to be a man yet too tall to be a child. Kumo, never too far off, lay beside him panting his content into misted puffs of breath. Every few minutes he'd run off to chase, sniff, or mark something that had caught his interest, but would always come back to sit and pant and snatch glances at the passers by.
Were it solely up to Takeshi he'd have ventured further into the greenery to be rid of the sight of the academy and it's milling populace, but Kumo was loathe to be out of eyesight of the building on the off-chance that he smelled Tenko. More than once they'd sat down in that same spot and he'd gone bolting off at the faintest whiff of the tiny skinny blonde, returning happily after visiting their new friend. She's doing just fine the dog's lolling tongue and wagging tail seemed to say, And she wanted me to tell you that she said hello. Takeshi always doubted Kumo's claims of delivering messages from Tenko, she didn't seem the type, but all the same he grinned beside himself.
The rhythm of his motions and the soft sigh of the rough stone against steel lulled the boy into a trance. Only the vague recognition of Kumo's presence (or lack-thereof) penetrated the concentration he had on his task. Then something in the environment changed; leaves rustling where feet hadn't yet trodden, and a metallic odor masked beneath the sweet scent of a recently extinguished candle. Takeshi stopped and looked up, Kumo was already on his feet and sniffing at the hand of this new and interesting arrival. Dropping the whetstone the young man reached behind him and clutched at the cloak, hating how he looked without it around his shoulder; childish, girlish, frail. It ended there though, as he made no move to don it. She'd already seen, so what was the point?
Recognition bloomed within his mind, but no name came out of it. She was in his year, he knew that much, though not the same class, and he'd seen her around the academy a few times.
"Yes?" He said simply, returning to his work.
Takeshi sat beneath an evergreen and listened to that life as it coincided with his own. Short sharp hisses rasped through the leaves as the boy held his weapon in place between his knees with one hand and stroked its edge with a whetstone using the other. The large bulky cloak of black leather and white fur was piled up behind him as a pillow, and his sword belt lay discarded in the snow-dusted grass, revealing the thin and lanky frame of a young fifteen year old boy, too short to be a man yet too tall to be a child. Kumo, never too far off, lay beside him panting his content into misted puffs of breath. Every few minutes he'd run off to chase, sniff, or mark something that had caught his interest, but would always come back to sit and pant and snatch glances at the passers by.
Were it solely up to Takeshi he'd have ventured further into the greenery to be rid of the sight of the academy and it's milling populace, but Kumo was loathe to be out of eyesight of the building on the off-chance that he smelled Tenko. More than once they'd sat down in that same spot and he'd gone bolting off at the faintest whiff of the tiny skinny blonde, returning happily after visiting their new friend. She's doing just fine the dog's lolling tongue and wagging tail seemed to say, And she wanted me to tell you that she said hello. Takeshi always doubted Kumo's claims of delivering messages from Tenko, she didn't seem the type, but all the same he grinned beside himself.
The rhythm of his motions and the soft sigh of the rough stone against steel lulled the boy into a trance. Only the vague recognition of Kumo's presence (or lack-thereof) penetrated the concentration he had on his task. Then something in the environment changed; leaves rustling where feet hadn't yet trodden, and a metallic odor masked beneath the sweet scent of a recently extinguished candle. Takeshi stopped and looked up, Kumo was already on his feet and sniffing at the hand of this new and interesting arrival. Dropping the whetstone the young man reached behind him and clutched at the cloak, hating how he looked without it around his shoulder; childish, girlish, frail. It ended there though, as he made no move to don it. She'd already seen, so what was the point?
Recognition bloomed within his mind, but no name came out of it. She was in his year, he knew that much, though not the same class, and he'd seen her around the academy a few times.
"Yes?" He said simply, returning to his work.
