The temperature in Shinogi Landing got into the high sixties. According to the "Overseas," a column that runs daily in the business section of the Daily Record, nine liners are to dock today. The August Moon, 34,500 tons is just sliding in after a three-day crossing, from Wind Country via Soons Haven, at Pier 7 on the West Side of Shinogi Landing. "Expected to dock: 2:00 P.M.," reports the newspaper. And she does.
Heavy, frayed ropes were thrown of the side facing the dock, some clipped the warped wood of the harbor with a loud bang. Those ropes were as heavy as a young woman but had twice the grip. The gangplanks was lowered and with haste several trunks, most large enough to hold a body, were unloaded by pasty men in rumpled uniforms wordlessly. Shortly thereafter the passengers started to stream off, one after another with somber expressions. They were 'important' of course. The press boys with their rumpled suits, stained ties, skinny notebooks and burdensome cameras hanging from their neck clawed for a position. The blocky white lettering superimposed on the flickering images would announce something along the lines of: "Arrived from Sora: Diamyo Ishii Shiro!" The article would read something simple "Famed leader Diamyo Ishii Shiro, father of illustrious author and scholar Ishii Susumu, just arrived on the Cha liner August Moon with his consort Madam Merchant Lord Hisamura Mako, the Leafed Emerald from Wind Country. Dimayo Shiro, no stranger to loss after his daughter was kidnapped from his palace four years ago in the dead of night and the loss of his eldest son, Shouki during a visit to Sunagakure. Rising tensions between the hidden village Sunagakure had reached new heights when Kazekage Sunahoshi Katsuo declared war on the landowner. Diamyo Ishii has arrived with a full compliment of guard, all dressed in dark uniforms and many of them visibly armed. The people of Tea Country anxiously await the result of this dignitary's appearance."
That would of course soon change, but they had no way of knowing this. After all, what could go wrong on such a beautiful day? They took several pictures of the Diamyo's lovely third wife. She was dressed in full military attire and walked with an authoritative grace seen only in born leaders. What fascinated the people of Tea Country was the fact that she was a woman of powerful station long before she created a martial alliance with the country;s leader. A plutocracy such as this respected such skill. Mako was also considered an exotic beauty for many denizens in tea Country, their olive skin, hazel eyes and darker hair was a stark contrast to her pale beauty.
The press boys clotted at the bottom of the gangplank, each attempting to get a statement from a member of the crew. Thy were mostly shrugged off, some of the more ambitious and perhaps foolish attempted to physically grab a deckhand or a guard, they found their way into the bay nigh immediately. However, there was an even bigger trophy has just berthed at Pier 7: a tall hooded man that was not mentioned on the charter but the deckhands kept a wide breadth from the behemoth. He towered at least a foot above the tallest civilian on the ship. He stood alongside Shiro, a great-blade almost as long as he was tall was strapped to his back. His body was armored, a symbol emblazoned on the breast was a circle with a triangle in the center that was pointed downward. One of the boys made the mistake of stepping in the path of the hooded man. Banter was had, tattered notebook in hand the teen eagerly scribbled down whatever it was that the giant had to say. A concerned gaze from one of the guardsmen would be the only hint as there was no intervention. Whatever was said, the boy appeared excited. His lean sallow face and grey circles under his eyes were punctuated by piercing green eyes that seemed to glimmer with excitement. With a simple gesture of his hand it was apparent that the boy was invited onto the ship, the Diamyo's closest guard had left him but several others remained at his side as the ship hands hurriedly removed their luggage from the chartered ship. The newsboys were still trying to get a line from any of the other passengers but they would give none, less the Diamyo himself much to the chagrin of the other boys whom looked on with envy as the barely teen street-rat was led onto the ship and another youngster was being given a statement from the Diamyo himself.What did he have to say? Only three words: "Ignore the screaming."
Moments after he said that a terrible noise could be heard from the ship. A scream? A gurgling cry?
Those from the ship appeared indifferent, beads of sweat would roll down the sides of the deck hands face as they seemed to hurry themselves even more. One of them had withdrawn a clipboard during this frenzy of activity and was counting off the trunks they had withdrawn. He would gesture to one of the men with his fingers the number two with a pair of outstretched fingers. The ship hands would stop and wait. They were not about to return to the ship even after the screams had ceased. The reporters would look at each other with worried and confused expressions. The passengers remained indifferent as they spoke among themselves.
It was not long after the screams had ceased would the tall man leave the ship. nobody entered until his foot left the gangplank and landed on the uneven docks. He would say nothing but there was an audible snicker than seemed to come from behind the mask of this assumed monstrous fiend. The Diamyo would address his company, the reporters would of course overhear: "under the ominous shadow of war and its attendant circumstances which have been cast onto this world, dissonancy has become as essential to civilized existence as the air we breathe is to life." The papers would have more to report than expected, if they lived to share the tale of how the Diamyo and his men brazingly stolen fellow reporter Michiai. It would make for a good story, one that painted the Diamyo's guard as the sort that takes young men and causes them harm. They heard his terrible cries. Fear had glued their feet to the boards of the harbor. Some had taken some notes, quoting the Dimayo also.
A woman would approach the nervous party, they further down the dock than the guests and guards. She was strikingly beautiful, her long white hair and brilliant eyes that looked like crystal orbs. She was small, well small in comparison to the rest of the party at the very least. Her black uniform indicating that she was likely of service in some manner to the Diamyo, a guard specifically. "How tragic," she frowned as she clapped her hand on the shoulder of the nearest young boy. "You must think the worst," her woulds almost seemed to come out of her in a soft purr. There was no chance that these children would follow them onto the ship, even if they had the advantage of numbers against her. The dammed General was always one for making a scene when he tithed. She was counting them with her eyes. "Let me" four... five... "put your burdened minds" eight... nine... "to rest." Twelve.Her arms would drop to either side. The vast emptiness of what connected them as it was nothing more than a few thin black threads. Was she stitched together? In a way, yes. but the stitches were internal and the thread seemed to be alive. Like throbbing, twisting snakes they would grow long. Like tethered projectiles they would be propelled by an unseen force and piece the breasts of each of the young men. She was a dead-shot even if the small woman was hardly credited as such. It was a common misapprehension for a woman, they often saw the sexual side and overlooked the pure brutality of their efforts. It did not bother her, people had a sick fascination or an undue revulsion not to the violence but rather to the allegation of lust. How hypocritical were their Puritanical thoughts and apprehensions. Her intent was to kill, some died easier than others with a single strike which would cause them a single wave of pain that would wash over them and then they would be gone. But the hardier among them, perhaps some that Nao would have enjoyed as a plaything lasted longer. Tried to flee into the water. Some even succeeded.
From the inky, choppy waters a hand as dark as night would emerge and draw their heads under. She did not do that.
The ordeal would last fifteen seconds. The docks were painted red.
An audible sigh could be heard from one of the guests. He was not dressed as well as the rest. He looked like a gothic teen more than a dignitary. His half shaved head and numerous silvered piercings punctuated his tall, gaunt form. He had a feminine sashay and wore heeled shows that granted his already tall frame an additional three inches. He brought a bangled wrist to his forehead and turned his gaze away. "Gah! You are too much trouble you know that," he complained in a rather dramatic fashion. "Don't leave any witnesses," he conceded.
[S Rank: 1 Hour (all)]
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