((Possible starter for a Historical (Japan Edo-period)/Adventure based RP - mostly desired 1x1, literate multi-para to novella writers - or if for nothing else this might at least serve as a little writing sample - If you are interesed or got an idea for a possible storyline/plot/setting with this little masterless Samurai, drop me a line via messages ))
During the past few weeks Kenshin had been wandering further north, leaving Tokyo behind and entering more rural regions. One day ago he had reached Shinjo, a little harbor town with the River Mogami running right through its midst.
Here his northward bound route stopped as Kenshin had no desire to enter the territory of the Choshu Clan, the Clan he formerly had been working as a Hitokiri for before he left for good.
Currently he was not sure if venturing further wouldn´t wake old demons, demons he so terribly feared, which he had buried so deeply over the past 10 years.
Stalling the decision regarding how to move on he spent the night inside a derelict shed next to the river close to the small harbor and was now sitting on top of a wooden pier used to by the local fishermen and merchants, his feet dangling close above the glittering surface of the water streaming by.
He was wearing his usual simple attire; a slightly worn, slate Kimono, greyish Hakama, black Tabi and Zori, which were about to fall apart due to the long time he had been on the road without pause recently.
His face was mostly hidden both behind some unruly strands of his reddish hair and by the shadow of the broad-brimmed conical rice-straw-hat he usually wore deeply pulled down into this face.
His eyes half closed hands tucked into the sleeves of his Kimono he enjoyed the warming rays of an early morning sun when suddenly a conversation conducted in increasing volume was drawing the Rurouni´s attention.
All over the little square in his back merchants were selling wares and street-food nibbles and it was right there where the peaceful atmosphere of the morning was about to be destroyed.
Slowly Kenshin turned, still more out of curiosity than real concern or anything else; however the scene that met his eyes was an ugly one:
A woman selling rice dumplings form a basket on her back was harassed by five men. All looked rather rough and they demanded her to come with them as “she owed the Sensai”.
The woman desperately argued to be left alone and more or less on her own tried to make a forlorn stand against the ruffians. The other folks around was too intimidated to interfere against those thugs, however a few set off announcing they would call the police… yet it was rather clear that this kind of backup would arrive far too late.
One of the men who behaved a bit like the leader of that rabble drew a sword and was closing in on the cowering marketer, obviously ready to strike her with the weapon.
However the bully wasn´t able to finish his blow, his movement interrupted in the nick of time, when he was pushed aside
Kenshin feigning utter clumsiness seemed to have stumbled over a pile of wooden crates and right into the guy then immediately turned and bowed servilely, uttering his deepest apologies while placing himself between the thugs and the woman.
On the face of it the whole brief scene surely appeared like the bumbling mishap of a rather naïve tramp, but yet a very attentive viewer would have noticed that the swift movements were all exactly in place and though mostly veiled by overall rather clownish behavior conducted with a flowing grace only a very skilled swordsman would be able to display.
Yet such deep observation was lost on the five bullies; all they noticed was a wandering moron who had ruined whatever their mission had been for the moment.
They threatened Kenshin and told him to get lost if he wanted to live to see another day – he in return again pretended to stumble, this time backwards and in fear upon noticing their weapons, but it was yet another attempt to bring more room between them and the woman behind him, who this time became “victim” of his “clumsiness” when he pulled her with himself and with that out of reach of the swords of the five blokes.
Enraged the leader lunged forward; a heavy blow which to the amazement of all those present was blocked by an arm-length bamboo staff Kenshin had picked up swiftly from the ground, still refraining from using his sword which thus remained hidden inside a cover of cloth and tugged into the waistband of his Hakama.
“Dono (Master or Sir), please… I am so sorry…- I am just a harmless Rurouni, I really am”
Unflinchingly he stuck to his role of unskilled rover when suddenly one of the men took his leader by the shoulder pointing his sword towards Kenshin.
“Sensai, this guy – I know him… well, not exactly personally but the description, two cross shaped scars on his cheek and reddish hair down his back… that is…” – “The infamous Hitokiri Battosai!” the leader growled, suddenly a mean grin on his face. - “Our Sensai would be very happy to have word with you, traitor!”
Kenshin still not willing to let go of his role just stared at them with a seemingly profoundly confused expression.
“Oro? (Hugh?) You must mistake me for someone else - Like I said, I am just a simple wandering, masterless Samurai, a Rurouni.”
Yet the interest of the infamous bunch was sparked and they demanded that he turned his head, surely in order get a closer look at his cheek and the scars… Kenshin assumed as much at least, and turned… - to the right, displaying his immaculate plain cheek there, causing they little group to called him not the most polite names stating his obviously stupidity – but yet before they could go on pressing the matter of who he really was they were interrupted by shouting and the distinct whistles of approaching police officers.
Down the main road a group of perhaps 10 men in uniform approached at a run. – A welcome distraction Kenshin used to slip away silently, yet not without offering a little polite smile and deep bow towards the woman still cowering in his back. She tried to stop him, to thank him but that very moment the officers arrived on the scene.
At that time the young Samurai already had made his swift and quiet retreat into one of the narrow side alleys.
During the past few weeks Kenshin had been wandering further north, leaving Tokyo behind and entering more rural regions. One day ago he had reached Shinjo, a little harbor town with the River Mogami running right through its midst.
Here his northward bound route stopped as Kenshin had no desire to enter the territory of the Choshu Clan, the Clan he formerly had been working as a Hitokiri for before he left for good.
Currently he was not sure if venturing further wouldn´t wake old demons, demons he so terribly feared, which he had buried so deeply over the past 10 years.
Stalling the decision regarding how to move on he spent the night inside a derelict shed next to the river close to the small harbor and was now sitting on top of a wooden pier used to by the local fishermen and merchants, his feet dangling close above the glittering surface of the water streaming by.
He was wearing his usual simple attire; a slightly worn, slate Kimono, greyish Hakama, black Tabi and Zori, which were about to fall apart due to the long time he had been on the road without pause recently.
His face was mostly hidden both behind some unruly strands of his reddish hair and by the shadow of the broad-brimmed conical rice-straw-hat he usually wore deeply pulled down into this face.
His eyes half closed hands tucked into the sleeves of his Kimono he enjoyed the warming rays of an early morning sun when suddenly a conversation conducted in increasing volume was drawing the Rurouni´s attention.
All over the little square in his back merchants were selling wares and street-food nibbles and it was right there where the peaceful atmosphere of the morning was about to be destroyed.
Slowly Kenshin turned, still more out of curiosity than real concern or anything else; however the scene that met his eyes was an ugly one:
A woman selling rice dumplings form a basket on her back was harassed by five men. All looked rather rough and they demanded her to come with them as “she owed the Sensai”.
The woman desperately argued to be left alone and more or less on her own tried to make a forlorn stand against the ruffians. The other folks around was too intimidated to interfere against those thugs, however a few set off announcing they would call the police… yet it was rather clear that this kind of backup would arrive far too late.
One of the men who behaved a bit like the leader of that rabble drew a sword and was closing in on the cowering marketer, obviously ready to strike her with the weapon.
However the bully wasn´t able to finish his blow, his movement interrupted in the nick of time, when he was pushed aside
Kenshin feigning utter clumsiness seemed to have stumbled over a pile of wooden crates and right into the guy then immediately turned and bowed servilely, uttering his deepest apologies while placing himself between the thugs and the woman.
On the face of it the whole brief scene surely appeared like the bumbling mishap of a rather naïve tramp, but yet a very attentive viewer would have noticed that the swift movements were all exactly in place and though mostly veiled by overall rather clownish behavior conducted with a flowing grace only a very skilled swordsman would be able to display.
Yet such deep observation was lost on the five bullies; all they noticed was a wandering moron who had ruined whatever their mission had been for the moment.
They threatened Kenshin and told him to get lost if he wanted to live to see another day – he in return again pretended to stumble, this time backwards and in fear upon noticing their weapons, but it was yet another attempt to bring more room between them and the woman behind him, who this time became “victim” of his “clumsiness” when he pulled her with himself and with that out of reach of the swords of the five blokes.
Enraged the leader lunged forward; a heavy blow which to the amazement of all those present was blocked by an arm-length bamboo staff Kenshin had picked up swiftly from the ground, still refraining from using his sword which thus remained hidden inside a cover of cloth and tugged into the waistband of his Hakama.
“Dono (Master or Sir), please… I am so sorry…- I am just a harmless Rurouni, I really am”
Unflinchingly he stuck to his role of unskilled rover when suddenly one of the men took his leader by the shoulder pointing his sword towards Kenshin.
“Sensai, this guy – I know him… well, not exactly personally but the description, two cross shaped scars on his cheek and reddish hair down his back… that is…” – “The infamous Hitokiri Battosai!” the leader growled, suddenly a mean grin on his face. - “Our Sensai would be very happy to have word with you, traitor!”
Kenshin still not willing to let go of his role just stared at them with a seemingly profoundly confused expression.
“Oro? (Hugh?) You must mistake me for someone else - Like I said, I am just a simple wandering, masterless Samurai, a Rurouni.”
Yet the interest of the infamous bunch was sparked and they demanded that he turned his head, surely in order get a closer look at his cheek and the scars… Kenshin assumed as much at least, and turned… - to the right, displaying his immaculate plain cheek there, causing they little group to called him not the most polite names stating his obviously stupidity – but yet before they could go on pressing the matter of who he really was they were interrupted by shouting and the distinct whistles of approaching police officers.
Down the main road a group of perhaps 10 men in uniform approached at a run. – A welcome distraction Kenshin used to slip away silently, yet not without offering a little polite smile and deep bow towards the woman still cowering in his back. She tried to stop him, to thank him but that very moment the officers arrived on the scene.
At that time the young Samurai already had made his swift and quiet retreat into one of the narrow side alleys.
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