Masashi Yoshie, a mysterious, wandering samurai, traveled through valleys and up mountains trying to seek the ravaging white haired, red faced demon whom she suspects is the cause of the terror in the Land of the Rising Sun. Along her journey, she s...
Oops! Bu görüntü içerik kurallarımıza uymuyor. Yayımlamaya devam etmek için görüntüyü kaldırmayı ya da başka bir görüntü yüklemeyi deneyin.
Oops! Bu görüntü içerik kurallarımıza uymuyor. Yayımlamaya devam etmek için görüntüyü kaldırmayı ya da başka bir görüntü yüklemeyi deneyin.
Laughter.
Smiles.
The smell of a mother's dish cooking by the fire.
The voice of the one close to one's heart.
The ease in one
Yoshie wondered about these things, pondering about how long since she had any of those experiences.
Walking with a group wasn't a normal routine for her either, and it felt awkward having companions. Being dragged around looking at landmarks and watching the blond boy's female companions marvel at them as if they were seen only for the first time. Even the rude raven-haired shinobi was with them, and his companions forced him to apologize to the samurai. It awed the samurai.
The pink-haired kunoichi introduced herself as Haruno Sakura, while the blonde with long tied hair was called Yamanaka Ino. The two were particularly sweet and friendly, although they often get awkward when it came to tastes and others alike. Apparently, they were conscious of their preferences as the samurai just seemed too stoic to even show her emotions. The raven-haired was called Uchiha Sasuke, a cousin of the warm Uchiha Obito. He was the boy who told her off earlier at the Hokage's office. Clearly the woman saw the differences between the two. It made her conclude that Obito would be the last person on all of the land to bear any hatred against anyone.
Although concluding anything about might just be too soon for that.
To remain courteous and polite, Yoshie stayed with the group despite it being against her desires. She had hoped to meditate somewhere where it was silent and peaceful, where she could just be by herself with her thoughts. Earlier on they tried coaxing her into leaving her swords in the inn she stayed in. But she rebutted, saying, "the blades of a samurai are the souls of the warrior."
None argued with her statement.
Under the bright afternoon sky, the samurai explored the lively village along with her newfound companions. Listening to the musicians practice their songs for the festival for the next day, and the enthusiastic dancers continue to practice their acrobatic performance. Watching them practice seemed nostalgic to the samurai. It made her recall her memories as a little girl who lived in her beautiful hometown.
