[Episode] Homesickness

Name: Homesickness
Category: Episode
Player Participants: Yumiko (+0), Yūgo Shirogane (+0)
Planned Location(s): Notice - North Blue
Planned Time Range: A single day between March 14th 1829 and March 19th 1829, taking place a couple days after the events of The Davy Back Brawl and A Strange Old New World.

Summary: An elusive group of smarmy punks calling themselves the Smart Fellas have been causing trouble at the tourist traps of Notice. Fed up with the problem, the local Navy branch called in a certain weasel to hunt down the rats. A wild chase ensues through the streets and across the beaches. At the same time, a case of mistaken identity gets a traveler far away from home tangled in the trouble. However, it turns out the two strangers might have more in common than just strange powers...

The often busy city of Notice was enjoying a rare slow day. Cool winds snuck in from the vast sea, dancing across the quiet streets. Playfully they tugged at abandoned newspapers and unguarded hats, anything they could toss into the air. Sun occasionally peeked from behind the fluffy, white veil of clouds, akin to a parent checking up on misbehaving children.

In the distance, a blue-tinted ship patrolled the coast lazily. The atmosphere was calm on the deck as well, with only one oddly-dressed figure keeping watch. ...Well, to be fair, it was lunch time, so most folks had a convenient excuse to be absent.

A closer glance revealed a long-haired woman donning foreign garbs. Her off-white top was no Marine uniform, but rather a kimono with huge sleeves. Likewise, she wore no pants, but rather a dark-blue dress known to some as a hakama. At her hip rested a type of sword popular in a distant land.

In the woman’s pale hand sat a small, blue snail. “...and that concludes the briefing.” Its bushy beard and wrinkled eyes reflected the wisdom of the dry, raspy voice on the other end. “Any questions?”

The soldier’s steely gaze remained on the city. “Merely one, sir. Do the targets have a distinct scent?” Her sharp question was met with a pause and rustling of papers from the other end.

“Hrm, a scent, you say? Well, we have found some cigarette butts near the attack sites, so I’d wager they like to smoke.”

“Tobacco. Understood, sir. Beginning hunt.”

With a funny little click, the snail fell quiet. The woman slipped it into her sleeve. Out of nowhere, a mysterious breeze started circling around her, pulling at her loose clothing. Suddenly, it flared into a violent whirlwind. In a blink, she was yanked high into the sky like a living kite. Spreading her sleeves, she soared towards the city.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of a filthy alley, a shady group had gathered. Only the red glow of stumpy cigarettes illuminated the lanky silhouettes against the brick wall. Beady eyes gleamed with ill intent, watching the nearest street carefully.

Suddenly, one of them nudged the others to attention and aimed a point at the street. “Yo, bois, youse seein’ what I is seein’?” Right outside the alley stood a short, pudgy man with an ill-fitting floral print shirt. His round nose and thick glasses were glued to an upside-down map.

The sight was met with nods and chuckles. “Yeah we do, boss.” One after another, the cancer sticks were snuffed out. Shoulders were rolled and knuckles were cracked. “Alright, bois, let’s welcome dis guy to Notice.” With that, several hands donning fingerless gloves and steel jewelry reached for the unwitting tourist...

Soon, a series of painful smacks trailed in the passing breeze.

---

Words: 467
Total: 467

The sudden shout brought a pause into the beating. Several pairs of eyes turned towards the stranger, none of them happy to see him. He had stuck his nose right into the beehive, now staring down a whole gang of goons. At their feet, the poor tourist was curled up and sobbing.

Tall and short, bulky and thin, guys and gals, Smart Fellas certainly was a colorful group. They all seemed to share the same fashion sense though. Leather jackets and pants, or skirts, were decorated with metal studs. Apparently fingerless gloves were in style.

At the very center stood a man with a nasty scar and a nastier smile. He straightened his back and brushed his slick pompadour. “Oh, sure din’, boss.” Had sarcasm held any substance, his words would’ve been dripping like tar.

The greasy man clicked his fingers. “Legs, Grabby, advance on ‘im.” Right on command, two of the goons started creeping closer to the stranger. One had legs twice as long as regular people, while the other had arms so long they had double elbows.

Meanwhile, the living kite soared high above the city. Her keen eyes scanned the peaceful streets below. From up here, it was like watching a vast, colorful anthill. The central square was bustling with life, as usual. Children played, while the grown-ups browsed the market stalls.

However, even the hunter’s gaze didn’t reach everywhere. The rooftops shielded the shady alleys from her piercing gaze. According to the briefing, the targets often escaped through that broken maze. It was their territory.

Thus she had to venture there as well.

Swooping down, the swordswoman landed on a tall rooftop. Crouching down on all fours, she closed her eyes and sharpened her senses. Her ears twitched, catching distant words. “...sure din’, boss.” She sniffed the air. Among the tangled mass of smells, there was the distinct sting of... cigarette smoke.

Slowly, the long dark hair started growing even longer, covering the pale skin, melding with to form a dark coat of fur. The dainty hands twisted, stretching into scythe-like claws. Likewise, a tail sprouted from between the kimono and the hakama, sporting an equally sharp end. Her features squished into a muzzle full of sharp, predatory teeth. Finally, humanity vanished from her eyes as they turned into beady, black orbs.

The woman was gone.

A monstrous weasel stood in her place.

Accompanied by a sudden gust of wind, Yumiko leapt down from her perch. Deftly she bounced across rooftops, following her nose. The trail led her to the edge of a roof overlooking a particularly crowded alley. She stopped to stalk the group. A grim, deep growl crawled down the walls.

“Are thou the ones called the Smart Fellas?”

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Words: 455
Total: 922

A chill wind whistled through the alley. The monstrous weasel leapt down, landing without a whisper. Even the winds fell silent. Up close, attentive eyes could spot small, white markings on the dark fur, patterns like brush strokes accentuating her sharp features.

When one of the strangers blurted out a familiar word, the mythical creature stopped her advance. She nodded, impressed that someone was so knowledgeable. “Verily so. This one is a kamaitachi.” Whirling winds answered her call, whipping up dust and loose papers.

The Smart Fellas, meanwhile, seemed less than impressed. They shared skeptical glances. Someone yawned. One of them scratched his stubble and pondered idly. “...Dude, that’s like the second biggest raccoon I've ever seen.” Others nodded and murmured in agreement. Like, what other animal would wander around in a trashy alley? Yeah, thought so.

However, the hunter was used to being underestimated. Arrogance was a fool’s substitute for wisdom. Being mistaken for a raccoon was better than being called a tanuki anyhow... “I ask thee once more, are thou the Smart Fellas?” She had to make sure... Never again would she repeat her mistakes and attack an innocent.

The greasy leader flashed a cocky grin. “So what if we are? Whatcha gonna do about it, animal dude? Nothin’, dat’s what.” He clicked his fingers and gestured at the ‘animal dude’ dismissively. “Legs, Grabby, you know what to do.” Without a question, the two goons turned their attention onto the weird animal before them.

Suddenly, the weasel swiped at the air faster than most eyes could follow. A gust of wind blew through the alley. The air shimmered in the shape of countless thin blades. Right after, the goons recoiled back with a series of pained yelps. At first, it seemed like they hadn’t even been hit... Until their clothing started falling apart... And slowly seeping blood painted the cuts on their skin.

Stalking closer to the pompadour man, Yumiko rose to her hindlegs to turn the height advantage into her favor. “So thou are the leader?” She growled with growing impatience.

The shaken leader backed away a couple of steps. He found something vaguely resembling an apologetic smile. “Uhhh... N-nooo...?” He squeaked. Glancing around for an exit, he suddenly spotted the nosy stranger. And a lightbulb lit up in his head... “It’s... uh... actually dis guy! He’s our boss! Yeah!” He gestured insistently at the gray-haired guy. The others chimed in agreement.

Yumiko blinked. All the threat drained from her voice. “Ah, mine apologies for assuming.” She bowed her head, sincerity shining through her oblivious tone. Next, her attention turned onto the so-called ‘boss’ of the group. “Command thy vassals to surrender... or face mine wrath. The choice is thine to make.” While she was distracted, the Smart Fellas were quietly getting back onto their feet...

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Words: 469
Total: 1391

Yumiko recoiled with wide-eyed shock, when the target suddenly denied all involvement. The threatening winds fell quiet. “W-what? But thy vassal said... He called thee...” She struggled to get in a word edgewise, so vehement was the denial. Had she misunderstood then? Made some sort of mistake trying to interpret the strange, local dialect?

Slowly, the monstrous creature leaned closer... Closer... Much too close. Ignoring all sense of personal space, she studied the young man. Her black nose twitched, as she sniffed his hair, breath and clothing.

After a moment of intense investigation, the hunter gave the stranger some breathing room. She folded her paws pensively. “Hrm, ‘tis true that the stench of tobacco does not cling to thee...” Her keen gaze swept over his clothing. “Thy attire is different from theirs as well...” Something about it seemed oddly familiar though. Closing her eyes, she cocked her head, as if that would help the thoughts along. “And thy manner of speaking is peculiar...” She mused, blissfully ignorant of the irony.

Yumiko’s round ears twitched at the familiar form of address. Now she was sure she hadn’t just misheard the first time. Granted, back home, no one had added such honorifics at the end... “Please do not call me such. This one is a samurai.” She insisted. “Mine name is-”

“Sucker! Aaahahaha!”

Mocking laughter suddenly echoed through the alley. The street rats had gathered their wits and promptly legged it. While the rest ran, the pompous pompadour punk stopped briefly to demonstrate his mastery of rude gestures. “Fuck ‘im up, boss!” He shouted, before sprinting away.

Others jeered in agreement, as they too vanished around the corner. “Nice one, boss! Kick his ass, boss! Brohohohoho~!” Gleefully the gang poured more fuel onto the flames of misunderstanding. Clearly they had learned nothing from their shallow wounds.

Left utterly stunned, Yumiko failed to even give chase. Instead, her blank, baffled stare slowly drifted onto the stranger. “Thou... deceived me...” Suddenly, it clicked. His outfit, his mannerism... Yes, she remembered why they felt familiar. “I see now... Thou are a shinobi, a master of jutsu, stealth... and deception.” Her eyes narrowed with quiet fury.

“So ‘twas all a trick to let thy vassals escape. Thou are most cunning indeed.”

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Words: 375
Total: 1766

Suspicion simmered beneath the surface. The samurai glared at the foe with the intensity of a predator. Much to her dismay, he confirmed her guess. A shinobi guard from the island of Hoshima... How had such a fearsome foe drifted so far away from home? Hm, no matter. This was no time to get distracted. She still wasn’t sure what to believe... But she did know what had to be done.

When the stranger continued to proclaim his innocence, Yumiko’s glare narrowed. “Spare thy breath, shinobi.” She snarled, falling onto all fours. “Talk is cheap. Words can be woven to sound beautiful, crafted carefully to hide the thorns within.” Her fur bristled. Whispering winds started drawing a circle of dust around her. “If thou are a warrior honest and true, then prove thyself through actions!” As she spoke, the whirling winds flared violently with her fervor.

“Have at thee!”

Suddenly, a massive gust erupted from the mythical weasel. It whisked her high into the sky, while launching back anything -and anyone- nearby. Trash cans clattered, debris rolled and loose papers danced in the air.

The hunter scanned the streets below, relying on her keen senses. Soon enough, she spotted the tiny rats scurrying in the maze. “Vile villains!” She called out loudly. “Far too long have thou bullied those weaker than thee! But now thou face me! Underestimate the power of a kamaitachi at thy own peril!” The unnatural winds carried her voice far.

“Defend thyselves!”

Down below, the fleeing criminals flinched at the accusing echo. They glanced around, searching for the source. “What da-? Dis dude just don’t know when to quit! Where is he?!” More distracted than intimidated, they nevertheless failed to look at what was important.

Like, for example, where they were going...

Poor Grabby, running dead last, kept glancing over his shoulder. In his haste, tripped over a snoozing dog and crashed right into a fruit stall. Ripe apples went flying everywhere. Naturally, the old, grandmotherly stall keeper didn’t take too kindly to a stranger kicking her poor pooch and making a mess while at it. She introduced the hooligan to her surprisingly sturdy broom. Repeatedly. And furiously. One down... Several to go.

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Words: 367
Total: 2133