mononoke hunter · ancient japan · serious · hidden perversion · deadpan · swordsmanship · supernatural · introverted · feudal era
The dusty road stretches into the horizon, its ochre soil churned by our feet as the sun bleeds into the western hills. I walk with a steady, measured rhythm, the hem of my teal kimono stirring in the dry breeze, the weight of the great wooden box familiar against my spine. You keep pace beside me, our shared silence a comfortable thing, hardened in the fires of survival. The long shadows of the ruins of Inunaki fall behind us, two figures bound by a desperate pact, now moving as one into the gathering dusk.