Based on the Web Novel Watashi, Nouryoku wa Heikinchi de tte Itta yo ne!
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You're Just An Average Girl!
- Thread starter Master of Squirrel-fu
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Master of Squirrel-fu
The Original
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Based on the Web Novel Watashi, Nouryoku wa Heikinchi de tte Itta yo ne!
Pitter-pat~ Pitter-pat~
It's a rather tranquil noise that comes from the rain falling on canvas top above your head. Soft and constant, it mixed so well with the creaking of the wooden wheels of the carriage, and dull clip-clop that came from the horses pulling them stepping on the (surprisingly) paved road leading to the city, still over a day away.
You didn't much like rain, no, rather you didn't much like being in the rain, getting wet. But the sound it made, just delightful, and even in such trying times it soothes your troubled heart and mind. Enough to almost lull you to sleep in the late summer warmth.
But, this day, you feel that regardless of your previous distaste for the rain you'd happily trek through the mud along side the caravan, wearing a smile even as the drizzle soaked you to the bone. After all, after three long years you've finally escaped!
For a given value of the word, in a sense you were still trapped, but at least you were no longer kept in a gilded cage like some sort of pet. Or perhaps it was better said, hidden away as if your existence was proof of some previous misdeed.
Adele is your name now. Just Adele, you had given away your right to your family name to enjoy this small taste of false freedom. Before this day you were known as Adele Ludwig von Ascham, the middle and only surviving child of the late Lady von Ascham and the surviving Viscount von Ascham. Today, and henceforth you are simply Adele, bastard child sired from a youthful indiscretion of the Viscount von Ascham and an opportunistic maid.
You were to be sent to the a school in the nearby capital of the country you called home, Eckland. A bastard child that was given a chance to succeed by an unusually generous father, rather than a secret daughter sent away to hide among rabble.
As far as false backgrounds went it seemed like a transparent one to you, though you'd obviously refrained from voicing that opinion. You would not be so quick to ruin your one chance lest you once again return to being secreted away into the depths of your father's estate to be hidden from prying eyes.
As it was you'd made a deal with your father. To be let out of his estate, in exchange for a few years of limited freedom living in the boarding school you'd agreed to act out the role he'd chosen, and upon return live the life he'd decided. It was better than nothing, you'd told yourself, in all likelihood you'd have still lacked the freedom to decide such yourself without making such a deal. It still rubbed awfully that your escape only served to make you more valuable as a piece.
With a sigh you banished the depressing thoughts. You'd rather no ruin your small victory with nihilism.
Positive. You needed to stay positive!
For a normal girl, thirteen years young. Ah, wait, you were supposed to be sixteen according to your story, it would be best to think of yourself as such to avoid slips.
Again, a normal average girl, a young woman of sixteen. For someone of such an age, to be kept sequestered away and dropped into the wide world without any instruction, they would be filled with panic and made of fraying nerves. An orphan in spirit if not in truth, leaving one cage for another and in the end to be brought back to most likely serve as a small political chip as a wife or mistress given away.
And yet you were able to smile sincerely. An enigma.
The world did not smile on the young miss Adele, what reason would she have to smile back?
The answer was simple.
She did not.
Young Miss Adele had no reasons nor will to smile. And that is because you are not young Miss Adele.
-----------------------------
You are someone who's name is not known to another person on this world, living or dead. To many, you are Adele, perhaps a "von Ascham" or perhaps not, but that is the name you were born with. But it is not your name. It is the name you first heard just three short years ago, a name you heard after a meeting with a certain being.
It was a name that belonged to a girl who was now dead. A girl you had surreptitiously replaced, stepping in to continue her life where she left off.
Adele (Ludwig von Ascham) was merely an alias, a role you assumed. Her name is not yours.
As for your name...
[X] Kurihara Misato. A talented and gifted young girl whom had given her life for another.
[X] Meaningless, it held as little attachment to it as you do your current one. You were a man who despised useless things, ultimately undone by the trash you eliminated from your company as their head of HR.
[X] Shiomi Gen, a old man who climbed his way up the ranks of the Yakuza, killed by an assassin in your hospital bed.
[X] Nanashi Yamada, unexceptional underachieving NEET. An Otaku, you'd somehow wasted your entire at the age of 19. Your ignoble death of stumbling down a flight of stairs was just another in a long line of disappointments.
Pitter-pat~ Pitter-pat~
It's a rather tranquil noise that comes from the rain falling on canvas top above your head. Soft and constant, it mixed so well with the creaking of the wooden wheels of the carriage, and dull clip-clop that came from the horses pulling them stepping on the (surprisingly) paved road leading to the city, still over a day away.
You didn't much like rain, no, rather you didn't much like being in the rain, getting wet. But the sound it made, just delightful, and even in such trying times it soothes your troubled heart and mind. Enough to almost lull you to sleep in the late summer warmth.
But, this day, you feel that regardless of your previous distaste for the rain you'd happily trek through the mud along side the caravan, wearing a smile even as the drizzle soaked you to the bone. After all, after three long years you've finally escaped!
For a given value of the word, in a sense you were still trapped, but at least you were no longer kept in a gilded cage like some sort of pet. Or perhaps it was better said, hidden away as if your existence was proof of some previous misdeed.
Adele is your name now. Just Adele, you had given away your right to your family name to enjoy this small taste of false freedom. Before this day you were known as Adele Ludwig von Ascham, the middle and only surviving child of the late Lady von Ascham and the surviving Viscount von Ascham. Today, and henceforth you are simply Adele, bastard child sired from a youthful indiscretion of the Viscount von Ascham and an opportunistic maid.
You were to be sent to the a school in the nearby capital of the country you called home, Eckland. A bastard child that was given a chance to succeed by an unusually generous father, rather than a secret daughter sent away to hide among rabble.
As far as false backgrounds went it seemed like a transparent one to you, though you'd obviously refrained from voicing that opinion. You would not be so quick to ruin your one chance lest you once again return to being secreted away into the depths of your father's estate to be hidden from prying eyes.
As it was you'd made a deal with your father. To be let out of his estate, in exchange for a few years of limited freedom living in the boarding school you'd agreed to act out the role he'd chosen, and upon return live the life he'd decided. It was better than nothing, you'd told yourself, in all likelihood you'd have still lacked the freedom to decide such yourself without making such a deal. It still rubbed awfully that your escape only served to make you more valuable as a piece.
With a sigh you banished the depressing thoughts. You'd rather no ruin your small victory with nihilism.
Positive. You needed to stay positive!
For a normal girl, thirteen years young. Ah, wait, you were supposed to be sixteen according to your story, it would be best to think of yourself as such to avoid slips.
Again, a normal average girl, a young woman of sixteen. For someone of such an age, to be kept sequestered away and dropped into the wide world without any instruction, they would be filled with panic and made of fraying nerves. An orphan in spirit if not in truth, leaving one cage for another and in the end to be brought back to most likely serve as a small political chip as a wife or mistress given away.
And yet you were able to smile sincerely. An enigma.
The world did not smile on the young miss Adele, what reason would she have to smile back?
The answer was simple.
She did not.
Young Miss Adele had no reasons nor will to smile. And that is because you are not young Miss Adele.
-----------------------------
You are someone who's name is not known to another person on this world, living or dead. To many, you are Adele, perhaps a "von Ascham" or perhaps not, but that is the name you were born with. But it is not your name. It is the name you first heard just three short years ago, a name you heard after a meeting with a certain being.
It was a name that belonged to a girl who was now dead. A girl you had surreptitiously replaced, stepping in to continue her life where she left off.
Adele (Ludwig von Ascham) was merely an alias, a role you assumed. Her name is not yours.
As for your name...
[X] Kurihara Misato. A talented and gifted young girl whom had given her life for another.
[X] Meaningless, it held as little attachment to it as you do your current one. You were a man who despised useless things, ultimately undone by the trash you eliminated from your company as their head of HR.
[X] Shiomi Gen, a old man who climbed his way up the ranks of the Yakuza, killed by an assassin in your hospital bed.
[X] Nanashi Yamada, unexceptional underachieving NEET. An Otaku, you'd somehow wasted your entire at the age of 19. Your ignoble death of stumbling down a flight of stairs was just another in a long line of disappointments.
fitzgerald
Experienced.
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[X] Shiomi Gen, a old man who climbed his way up the ranks of the Yakuza, killed by an assassin in your hospital bed.
Pinklestia
Well worn.
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[X] Shiomi Gen, a old man who climbed his way up the ranks of the Yakuza, killed by an assassin in your hospital bed.
Irked
Experienced.
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[X] Meaningless, it held as little attachment to it as you do your current one. You were a man who despised useless things, ultimately undone by the trash you eliminated from your company as their head of HR.
Elite Business men are srs bsns in fantasy settings, just look at Tanya the Evil.
Elite Business men are srs bsns in fantasy settings, just look at Tanya the Evil.
boredbird
Know what you're doing yet?
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[X] Kurihara Misato. A talented and gifted young girl whom had given her life for another.
Master of Squirrel-fu, I recognise the first two protag choices but the other two don't ring any bells. Are they from other WN/LNs or OCs?
Master of Squirrel-fu, I recognise the first two protag choices but the other two don't ring any bells. Are they from other WN/LNs or OCs?
Master of Squirrel-fu
The Original
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[X] Shiomi Gen, a old man who climbed his way up the ranks of the Yakuza, killed by an assassin in your hospital bed.
Of Japan's underworld nothing is so feared and respected as the Yakuza. The syndicate, the rulers of the criminal elements, they are as much those who control the nation as it's very government. Perhaps even more so, for their reach is not something so limited as to be forced to obey Law and Order. And of this Criminal Organization there are twenty one groups, clans centered around a Yakuza head. Among them, the largest and perhaps the strongest group, is the Hitotsubashi Group.
Old and weathered, but stronger for it, the clan was ruled by a man who embodied it's history like no other. Their hailed and newly promoted Yondaime, the Kanto Man-Slayer, Shiomi Gen.
Aged 56 the man had carved a path of blood and violence through the streets of Tokyo. With a tenacity that none could match and a determination that bordered on insanity, he had clawed his way up from a simple street punk to the one of the most powerful men in Japan. However his triumph was short lived, not all were pleased with promotion. Those supporting older, more established clans in the group did not take well to one such as him inheriting the position when many of the Sandaime's own bastards coveted the position. The family split, groups splintering off to form rivaling groups.
With such a fracturing of such a large syndicate there was blood in the water and it wasn't long until things began to fall apart. Within a week one of these splinter cells, with the backing of a rival faction, had assasinated the boss of the Shouden group, one of the Hitotsubashi's oldest allies. This was the spark that trigger what would be known as the Issen Wars.
It was months of bloody conflict, generations old families ended by assassin blades, and it was a time where alleys began to fill with blood to the point it flooded the streets. And it was during this war of succession that Shiomi Gen met his end. Stabbed in the streets on the way to his car by a hitman, but of course this wasn't enough to end him on it's own. He'd scarcely managed to return the removed blade into his assailant when he was rushed off to a nearby hospital. It was there that he died, drugged and vulnerable, of course the jackals would wait for his weakest moment to pounce.
You, Shiomi Gen (Age 56), stared down at the cooling corpse that was once your body feeling supreme disappointment.
"Dead on your back, not even a knife in your hand? Pitiful," you glowered down at the shameful body, "This isn't how a man is supposed to die."
"And how, pray tell," Came a voice from behind you, "Is a man supposed to die?"
You turned quickly, prepared for an attack. You wouldn't know if you could die again, but you didn't trust the afterlife to be any more forgiving than the normal one. You were ready for anything but still found yourself surprised by what you found.
"Whoa there, Shiomi-san," The blond girl held up placating hands, though the confident grin never left her lips, "I come in peace."
Standing there was a girl, blonde like a foreigner, natural that is. Light skin and freckled, blue eyes, she could be nothing else. She wore a suit, and a grin far to smug to ever grace the lips of someone who looked so wet behind the ears. All of this while odd, was not what caused your confusion, but rather the girl seemed to be floating in the air just above you, upside down yet somehow nursing a mug of some warm drink.
The fuck?
"Greetings Shiomi-san, I am Mikael, a pleasure to meet you, yes?" The child said extending a hand down in the western custom to shake. It was somewhat awkward, not that you were unfamiliar with the custom but the positioning made things off from the standard, "Good, good, now then, I should let you know, I will be the Shinigami handling your case."
...What? No that made no sense. The child was clearly dressed in business cloths, a foreign girl with a foreign name, she looked nothing the part of what a shinigami, a death god, was supposed to be!
"You know, if you keep making those doubtful expressions your going to heart my feelings," She pouted, more so when you gave her your least trusting face, "It's true! It is not my fault you mortals are so obsessed with your titles and tongues that I need to take the woefully inadequate labels you give to my kind."
She dropped from her position to land on the ground in front of you, arms crossed. After a moment she made a displeased nose before rising a few feet in the air to be able to hover just enough to be able to look down on your form. She raised a finger imperiously.
"For your information I am an emissary of God, or rather a being who's position in heaven is equivalent to what you humans would call 'God'. My kind handles many things, and my job is handling escorting lost souls to where ever they need to go. Generally those like me are given some name depending on the region, such as Angel or Valkyrie, your land tends to refer to these celestial custodians as Shinigami and so I simply adopted the name you would be most familiar with to save myself just this explanation."
The look on her face seemed to say without words that she demanded an apology for the fact her ill thought out plan had failed. You let out a chuckle, fat chance.
"So you lied then," it was your turn to grin, "You aren't a Shinigami."
She glowered at you, intense enough you almost considered checking to make sure you'd not somehow combusted. It reminded you so much of your new grandchild, thankfully safe with her father far from the violence, and you had to resist the urge to pinch those cheeks. She seemed to have read your intent as her glare only grew worse, and in truth only more adorable.
"That's not what I said at all!" She stomped her foot, the effect falling flat at the lack of any solid surface beneath it, "It's you mortals who are wrong! There were never any Shinigami in the first place it!"
You only smiled back, the same grin you always gave Chie when she made that same face as the blond. After several moments you got the desired effect and she huffed with her nose in the air, too proud to admit defeat but unable to win the argument.
"Whatever, that's not the reason why I'm here. You see, normally we Celestial hosts don't even need to bother with escorting the dead, a custodian only sent for... problem cases," in a feat worthy of great respect the girl composed herself back from her childish episode, putting on an air of someone far more mature than she'd just shown herself to be, "For a remorseless, violent man such as yourself this this would be an open and shut case, if you didn't naturally fall into yourself a cleaner would eventually come to just toss your soul into the pits of Hell."
You flinched. The surrealness of it all had caused you to forget your position at the moment.
"Multiple accounts of murder, assault, causing civil unrest, poisoning public morals, and generally acting to further the degradation of society with drugs and theft. Really, most of these are mortal crimes as well, and for most those who don't face justice in life will face it after," if she noticed your reaction she showed no signs, simply continuing on, "Under any other circumstance you'd be sent straight into the pits to work of your bad Karma under the tender mercies of demons, well the Nether denizens anyway, so you could be reincarnated to try at life again. After a few centuries of, quite literal, back breaking labor of course."
Well it sounded like you might have dodged a bullet. But you would withhold any judgements until you were sure you didn't dodge right onto a landmine.
At some point the girl had lowered herself, taking a seat on the bed beside your corpse, paying the body no mind. Then again she was probably used to such things. It still made for an odd sight, a girl in a suit sitting next to a corpse, completely uncaring of that fact.
"Well," You asked, "If I'm not just going to be sent straight to hell what's gonna happen to me? And why is that by the way?"
"That's what I'm here to determine actually," She answered, "There's two real reasons we're even bothering with this. The inner workings are something I'm not inclined to share for both time and effort, plus I'm sure you'd not understand it even if I did, but it boils down to A Last Wish, and your Karmic Weight. You're really quite lucky, you know."
"I suppose I am," You'd just escaped damnation after all.
"No, I don't think you do. A Last Wish is just that, a last wish, that is a dying request. Someone cared enough about you to use their one and only wish to help you. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of it, but suffice to say this is quite unorthodox and not an act of kindness I think anyone, especially you, would be able to repay with even an entire lifetime of effort."
You were honestly stunned by this news, there was no one you could think of that would have that amount of loyalty. Oh you trusted your subordinates, your lieutenants, you'd trust your brothers in arms with your life, but a wish. A dying wish? That was something else all together.
"In truth you dying should have invalidated that wish," she went on, "Wishes aren't omnipotent after all, there are limits in place, and we can't simply revive the dead even if it means a wish falls through. Here is were, were you anyone else, we would cut our losses and send you off to whatever afterlife awaited you but a unique characteristic about you means that we actually do have a way of keeping our bargain with your benefactor. Your Karmic Weight."
"Not to sound ungrateful, but I would have thought I'd have quite a bit of bad karma tied to me."
"Oh you most certainly do, but that's not the point. You see, while you have quite a bit of Bad Karma, you actually have even more Good Karma tied to your soul," She sounded quite delighted at the idea, "For all the horrid things you've done you've actually caused more good in the world than bad. If this was just a coincidence it wouldn't matter, you'd get a one way ticket to hell. It's the thought that counts after all, but unlike so many others you actually did intend the beneficial consequences of your terrible actions. Not just as a means to an end, that also gets you a one way ticket to the pit, In spite of being a selfish criminal you lived an honorable and meaningful life, you made the world a better place and it will, surprisingly, be worse off without you."
As much as you didn't want to admit it, that was something you'd not have ever expected to be said about your life and death. There may have been those morning you but you'd never held the delusion that the world itself would be harmed with your passing. The opposite in fact.
"You kept your men in line, leading by example. You improved your community through charity as more than just a means of getting publicity. You operated fairly and honestly with your patrons. And quite merciful, at least compared to your predecessor and compatriots. You're quite an old soul really, this is the sort of thing we only really saw centuries ago with anything resembling regularity. It'd be enough to justify a softer sentence certainly, but that's not all there is to it. You have lots of good and bad karma, it mostly cancels each other out, but you haven't actually used up all of your Karma."
You blinked, not understanding.
"That means you died before your time," she elaborated, "We'd normally be able to judge you either way, and it's not like we can bring you back to life, but your remaining potential for good or evil is actually quite amazing. You were destined for great things before you died Shiomi-san. Individually these things would amount to little in determining your fate, but combined it all comes together for quite the opportunity for you. It means, Shiomi-san...
"That we can give you a second chance at life!"
Your eyes widened, a strange maelstrom of emotions flooded you. Of course gratefulness at this news, but also confusion, and more than a little suspicion.
"But you said-"
"Yes, we can't bring you back to life. But, you still have some time left in you even if your body is dead. So," She paused with a grin, "We just need someone with the opposite problem. No time left but a living body! And we have just the body in mind for you. There will be a few... stipulations of course."
"And what would those happen to be, shinigami-san?"
"Well, there's a few more rules that would also interfere with bringing you back to life here, technicalities really. Still, it means you will need to be reborn in another world, I'm sure you're familiar with the concept as I understand it's quite popular in your countries entertainment nowadays," Mikael explained, "Actually that might be something to look into, it wouldn't do if some custodians are getting careless..."
You just nodded along. You didn't know, but honestly didn't care. You never cared much for the television as more than a convenient means to get the news or help with security. You had more important things to take care of. Another world then, would you be waking up in the body of a demon, a denizen of Makai?
"Oh good, then I won't need to explain that at least," Shit, "We'll be treating this like a Last Wish, most of your Karma is going to go into just being reborn but... Well, obviously you know the sort of situation you're going to end up in so you'll be getting a little gift since we're not going to be doing this a second time."
She stood up, holding out her hand but held up a finger on her other one when you tried to take it.
"Nah-ah, we still have to hammer out one last thing before we can seal the deal," She tutted, "There's prices to be paid and gifts to be given, you may not be destined for hell but you are far from a saint. We can't just be giving you something so precious so free. Tell me Shiomi-san, if there was one thing you value most about yourself what would it be? Something that you can say that you hold above everything else. Think deeply before answering Shiomi-san, and once you have your answer we can seal the deal."
The wording was ominous, and you thought for a moment to simply lie. Then her grin stretched into something sinister, as if reading your thoughts and daring you to do so. You were tempted to do so anyway to spite her for that look but you didn't make it as far as you did by being so impulsive. You would answer honestly, but in the end it didn't take long to find your answer.
"My strength," You said clearly, "It my strength that won me my position, I started with nothing once and I could do so again so long as my body is strong. More than anything else, Strength is what defines Shiomi Gen."
She didn't really react to your little speech, still with that smug look upon her face. She re-extended her hand to you, and with a bit of trepidation you reached out to shake it. They raised, and the moment they came back down you felt a pull in your navel as the world around you seemed to stretch around the girl and you felt as if you were caught in a maelstrom.
"And with that the deal is done," Her voice was clear over the sound of breaking glass and rushing rapids, "I look forward to seeing what you do with this."
------------------------------
And that's how you ended up waking up in this horrid place, in the body of a small girl child. Stick thin and sickly, you'd felt cheated by that damned kami until you slammed your fist down on the bedside table, cracking it in two like a disposable pair of chopsticks. It most definitely was made of hardier stuff than that, it was clearly well made as your discerning eyes could see.
Despite keeping the monstrous strength that earned you the name of "Gen the Assassin" in your youth, you still felt cheated. Sure you'd said that Strength was what most defined you, but that didn't mean you didn't care about certain other things too. Like your dick for example. Or your penis. And let's not forget YOUR FUCKING COCK! Dammit you wanted a do over, you didn't think your fucking manhood would be on the line!
Those first days had been a special kind of hell. You had been born on a world without technology, and while there were many things you would not miss about the modern world, toilets would not be among them. You'd been confronted first hand with the fact you were missing something vital and irreplaceable. At first you'd tried your best to hold it in, the very thought of what releaving yourself would entail with your new equipment made you feel like a criminal.
... Well, a different sort of criminal. You most certainly didn't have tastes that ran that way, you were a tits and ass sort of man. Anything less than a handful wasn't even worth looking at.
The man who was the father of this child was quite surprised to see you awake, giving you a meal before locking you away in the back of his mansion. Oh how that burned your pride, to be treated as a child. Even if your body looked like this you were at your heart still Shiomi Gen (Age 56) and would not stand being treated as such. Sadly you were quickly stricken with illness, and as strong as you were you couldn't quite escape with legs that gave out in seconds and random fainting spells.
So you spent three years recovering your health, to your father's shock. It had seemed no one believed you'd survive the first week, let alone reach a point where you could keep from vomiting up your blood after a hardy meal It still happened sadly, but perhaps maybe once a month as opposed to once a day as it had started as. Heh, the fools underestimated the strength The Assassin, as if a simple sickness alone would be enough to kill you.
You didn't pay much attention to your new family, having little reason to care, but you were not dense enough to learn nothing. And with little else to do as you slowly recovered your strength you chose to gather a bit of information.
Your mother, the Lady von Ascham had died days prior to your arrival. Her carriage, carrying both her, her brother, her father, and her son had been attacked by bandits and the family slaughtered. Your father, the viscount, had remained at home sick in bed as the had gone to take care of an important meeting when the tragedy struck. Very fortunate for him. And so it was, that at learning this news at the dinner table the young miss Adele, her health frail from years of wasting sickness, had her young and weak heart fail on her. It was only the expert doctors that mother had hired to care for father that saved her life, if only for her fate to be a sleep she might never awaken from.
They were quite shocked to learn of her miraculous recovery mere days later.
But as it was, dear father had been busy in those few days. His wife passed, her kin with her, and the surviving daughter doomed to an uncertain but likely terrible fate he'd taken steps to ensure the Ascham name continued. And so, less than a month after his wife was buried he had another in his bed. And you had a new sister. Priscilla Vorband, now von Ascham. A spoiled girl, but at least one who learned her lesson about not starting what one couldn't handle.
You'd honestly have prefered to have been an orphan, even in this unadvanced age. You knew the streets and could handle yourself, and you figured they'd be more hospitable than the viscount and his new family. You actually would have considered your previous childhood to even be a step up from your current one.
In the end your strength recovered, and you were able to convince the viscount to let you go out into the world now that you probably wouldn't die from a strong breeze. He expected you to receive schooling, grow your education, and become a more valuable asset he could marry off to tie himself to anther family. Honestly it was fairly easy to recognize, it was something Yakuza, or really any politically powerful group did. You'd actually met your ex-wife through an Omiai, a wedding meeting, as the Sandaime wanted to bring in a certain up and coming lieutenant a bit closer to his family. A niece wasn't exactly the strongest tie one could make, but it raised his position in the Family and the Sandaime obtained the loyalty of the man who would carve a bloody legend through the darkened streets of Kanto.
He invested in her, expecting her to pay him back with her life. Oh, he may have known her to be a bit willful, but he just brushed it off as a phase, and that a proper school would teach her how to be a proper woman. That when she returned the now proper Young Miss would marry whatever man he deigned to place in front of her 'for the good of the family.' Such a shame for him that the Young Miss, who was anything but, would sooner die than accept that. The fool probably thought his little girl would be too grateful for the opportunity to just roll over for him.
But Shiomi Gen, now Adele, was nobodies bitch. Past, Present, or otherwise. She would take this opportunity and milk it for all it was worth and swindle every last drop of 'charity' he was willing to invest in her upbringing, she would take everything and leave nothing, nothing but total destruction in her wake. Such was a Man's way, and regardless of what body he happened to inhabit Shiomi Gen (age 56) was a man.
The thought of crushing the other man beneath his foot on his climb to the top brought a wicked grin to your face. Your muscles twisted themselves back into the familiar position you felt back in your days as The Assassin of Kanto. The grin that would strike terror in the hearts of even the most hardened and wicked men who called the streets their home.
"Oh you're such a dear," An old woman sitting beside you in the carriage pinched your cheek, "Putting on such an bright smile, planning on chasin' away the rain with a sunny disposition?"
"N-no, of course not, Aunty," You answered through gritted teeth. Gods damn this adorable body you were cursed with! "I'm almost 16 years old now, I've outgrown such childish things long ago!"
"Oh don't be so quick to through away your youth child!" The old woman chided, "Enjoy these innocent times while you can, pretty soon you'll be old and wrinkled like me. You only get one life so don't be so eager to speed through it."
Yeah, I used to think that too ya old bat.
"So what were you smiling about then?" It wasn't the old woman who asked, but rather a boy about your (physical) age, perhaps a bit older, sitting across from you. He had a innocent curiosity about him, one that broke as he seemed to recall something and averted his gaze blushing and rubbing the back of his head, "Er, that is if you don't mind me asking, Milady."
You ignored the old woman giggling to herself as she watched the two of you to fix the boy down with a pointed glare. It had a nominal affect, but at the very least he appeared to understand you were displeased with his mode of address. For a number of reasons.
Michael Celest, a young squire from the township your father looked over and son of one of his servants, the head butler. The boy had been to mansion before, in the company of his father, and had at one point served as a playmate for the young Adele. He was going to become a butler for the family, following in his father's foot steps so it made sense that he would be getting schooling of some sort.
It was still terribly transparent. That the boy, two years older than you, would be sent at the same time as you to the same school? That it would a nobleman's school in the capitol, even if it was one for minor nobles, ha! It was quite easy to see your father's little ploy to have someone watch you. The boy barely even knew to hide his glances, even with your experience you'd think you would notice the looks he sent you when he thought you weren't paying attention to him. The child had a long way to go if he wanted to spy on anyone, let alone you.
But you would take this and spin it to your advantage. Capture a piece from your father to put to your own use, like shogi. And while you were gifted in more physical ventures you, like a proper Japanese man should, knew how to play the game of like a boss.
You could never have to many underlings after all.
"I was just thinking about going to school," You told him, "I just can't wait until we start."
"Oh? Why's that?" He asked leaning closer, "You had such a big smile I'd really like to know what could have caused it."
"Oh you know..." Shit, you tried to come up with an excuse, somewhat hard given you'd dropped out of middle school to join a gang, "Innocent... girl things?"
Thankfully fortune was on your side, as the carriage came to a stop, conveniently halting any annoying followups to the conversation.
"Oh my, it's too soon to have arrived to the city just yet," The old woman muttered, "Did a tree fall over the path?"
It was then that you heard something over the muddled rain, dampened by the white noise and cloth. It was an unmistakable sound to you.
You jumped up out of your seat, pushing Michael's head off of where it landed on your lap to let him fall to the floor. Without hesitation you jumped out the back of the cart, ignoring the old woman's squawk of surprise. You landed on your feet and quickly ducked, peeking around the corner of the wagon.
And there indeed was a tree in the path, uprooted entirely to lay flat across the full length. Several of the carriagemen of the carrivan were already starting to tie rope to it to pull it out of the way. As they began to gather in one place to pull you realized what was about to happen.
"No, Run!" You shouted, knowing that it'd be too late.
The men had barely a moment to register the word in confusion before a boulder flew out of the trees at the speed of a car and smashed through the group of unsuspecting men, pulping them in an instant. Several survived a few moments longer before dying beneath the rubble. The rest of the men scattered, several being taken down by arrows also coming from the forest.
You cursed under your breath. You'd recognized the noise from before as the whistles and knocks used to signal others, something that could be ignored by the ignorant or complacent over the din of noise in the city but any sharp eared Yakuza knew to look out for to avoid ambush.
And that's what this was, an ambush. Already armed men were beginning to exit the woods.
[X] Flee. You've no need to fight here and no wish to needlessly risk your life.
[X] Fight. Whether or not it was intended this is an attack on The Assassin of Kanto, you would teach them the error of their ways.
[X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
Of Japan's underworld nothing is so feared and respected as the Yakuza. The syndicate, the rulers of the criminal elements, they are as much those who control the nation as it's very government. Perhaps even more so, for their reach is not something so limited as to be forced to obey Law and Order. And of this Criminal Organization there are twenty one groups, clans centered around a Yakuza head. Among them, the largest and perhaps the strongest group, is the Hitotsubashi Group.
Old and weathered, but stronger for it, the clan was ruled by a man who embodied it's history like no other. Their hailed and newly promoted Yondaime, the Kanto Man-Slayer, Shiomi Gen.
Aged 56 the man had carved a path of blood and violence through the streets of Tokyo. With a tenacity that none could match and a determination that bordered on insanity, he had clawed his way up from a simple street punk to the one of the most powerful men in Japan. However his triumph was short lived, not all were pleased with promotion. Those supporting older, more established clans in the group did not take well to one such as him inheriting the position when many of the Sandaime's own bastards coveted the position. The family split, groups splintering off to form rivaling groups.
With such a fracturing of such a large syndicate there was blood in the water and it wasn't long until things began to fall apart. Within a week one of these splinter cells, with the backing of a rival faction, had assasinated the boss of the Shouden group, one of the Hitotsubashi's oldest allies. This was the spark that trigger what would be known as the Issen Wars.
It was months of bloody conflict, generations old families ended by assassin blades, and it was a time where alleys began to fill with blood to the point it flooded the streets. And it was during this war of succession that Shiomi Gen met his end. Stabbed in the streets on the way to his car by a hitman, but of course this wasn't enough to end him on it's own. He'd scarcely managed to return the removed blade into his assailant when he was rushed off to a nearby hospital. It was there that he died, drugged and vulnerable, of course the jackals would wait for his weakest moment to pounce.
You, Shiomi Gen (Age 56), stared down at the cooling corpse that was once your body feeling supreme disappointment.
"Dead on your back, not even a knife in your hand? Pitiful," you glowered down at the shameful body, "This isn't how a man is supposed to die."
"And how, pray tell," Came a voice from behind you, "Is a man supposed to die?"
You turned quickly, prepared for an attack. You wouldn't know if you could die again, but you didn't trust the afterlife to be any more forgiving than the normal one. You were ready for anything but still found yourself surprised by what you found.
"Whoa there, Shiomi-san," The blond girl held up placating hands, though the confident grin never left her lips, "I come in peace."
Standing there was a girl, blonde like a foreigner, natural that is. Light skin and freckled, blue eyes, she could be nothing else. She wore a suit, and a grin far to smug to ever grace the lips of someone who looked so wet behind the ears. All of this while odd, was not what caused your confusion, but rather the girl seemed to be floating in the air just above you, upside down yet somehow nursing a mug of some warm drink.
The fuck?
"Greetings Shiomi-san, I am Mikael, a pleasure to meet you, yes?" The child said extending a hand down in the western custom to shake. It was somewhat awkward, not that you were unfamiliar with the custom but the positioning made things off from the standard, "Good, good, now then, I should let you know, I will be the Shinigami handling your case."
...What? No that made no sense. The child was clearly dressed in business cloths, a foreign girl with a foreign name, she looked nothing the part of what a shinigami, a death god, was supposed to be!
"You know, if you keep making those doubtful expressions your going to heart my feelings," She pouted, more so when you gave her your least trusting face, "It's true! It is not my fault you mortals are so obsessed with your titles and tongues that I need to take the woefully inadequate labels you give to my kind."
She dropped from her position to land on the ground in front of you, arms crossed. After a moment she made a displeased nose before rising a few feet in the air to be able to hover just enough to be able to look down on your form. She raised a finger imperiously.
"For your information I am an emissary of God, or rather a being who's position in heaven is equivalent to what you humans would call 'God'. My kind handles many things, and my job is handling escorting lost souls to where ever they need to go. Generally those like me are given some name depending on the region, such as Angel or Valkyrie, your land tends to refer to these celestial custodians as Shinigami and so I simply adopted the name you would be most familiar with to save myself just this explanation."
The look on her face seemed to say without words that she demanded an apology for the fact her ill thought out plan had failed. You let out a chuckle, fat chance.
"So you lied then," it was your turn to grin, "You aren't a Shinigami."
She glowered at you, intense enough you almost considered checking to make sure you'd not somehow combusted. It reminded you so much of your new grandchild, thankfully safe with her father far from the violence, and you had to resist the urge to pinch those cheeks. She seemed to have read your intent as her glare only grew worse, and in truth only more adorable.
"That's not what I said at all!" She stomped her foot, the effect falling flat at the lack of any solid surface beneath it, "It's you mortals who are wrong! There were never any Shinigami in the first place it!"
You only smiled back, the same grin you always gave Chie when she made that same face as the blond. After several moments you got the desired effect and she huffed with her nose in the air, too proud to admit defeat but unable to win the argument.
"Whatever, that's not the reason why I'm here. You see, normally we Celestial hosts don't even need to bother with escorting the dead, a custodian only sent for... problem cases," in a feat worthy of great respect the girl composed herself back from her childish episode, putting on an air of someone far more mature than she'd just shown herself to be, "For a remorseless, violent man such as yourself this this would be an open and shut case, if you didn't naturally fall into yourself a cleaner would eventually come to just toss your soul into the pits of Hell."
You flinched. The surrealness of it all had caused you to forget your position at the moment.
"Multiple accounts of murder, assault, causing civil unrest, poisoning public morals, and generally acting to further the degradation of society with drugs and theft. Really, most of these are mortal crimes as well, and for most those who don't face justice in life will face it after," if she noticed your reaction she showed no signs, simply continuing on, "Under any other circumstance you'd be sent straight into the pits to work of your bad Karma under the tender mercies of demons, well the Nether denizens anyway, so you could be reincarnated to try at life again. After a few centuries of, quite literal, back breaking labor of course."
Well it sounded like you might have dodged a bullet. But you would withhold any judgements until you were sure you didn't dodge right onto a landmine.
At some point the girl had lowered herself, taking a seat on the bed beside your corpse, paying the body no mind. Then again she was probably used to such things. It still made for an odd sight, a girl in a suit sitting next to a corpse, completely uncaring of that fact.
"Well," You asked, "If I'm not just going to be sent straight to hell what's gonna happen to me? And why is that by the way?"
"That's what I'm here to determine actually," She answered, "There's two real reasons we're even bothering with this. The inner workings are something I'm not inclined to share for both time and effort, plus I'm sure you'd not understand it even if I did, but it boils down to A Last Wish, and your Karmic Weight. You're really quite lucky, you know."
"I suppose I am," You'd just escaped damnation after all.
"No, I don't think you do. A Last Wish is just that, a last wish, that is a dying request. Someone cared enough about you to use their one and only wish to help you. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of it, but suffice to say this is quite unorthodox and not an act of kindness I think anyone, especially you, would be able to repay with even an entire lifetime of effort."
You were honestly stunned by this news, there was no one you could think of that would have that amount of loyalty. Oh you trusted your subordinates, your lieutenants, you'd trust your brothers in arms with your life, but a wish. A dying wish? That was something else all together.
"In truth you dying should have invalidated that wish," she went on, "Wishes aren't omnipotent after all, there are limits in place, and we can't simply revive the dead even if it means a wish falls through. Here is were, were you anyone else, we would cut our losses and send you off to whatever afterlife awaited you but a unique characteristic about you means that we actually do have a way of keeping our bargain with your benefactor. Your Karmic Weight."
"Not to sound ungrateful, but I would have thought I'd have quite a bit of bad karma tied to me."
"Oh you most certainly do, but that's not the point. You see, while you have quite a bit of Bad Karma, you actually have even more Good Karma tied to your soul," She sounded quite delighted at the idea, "For all the horrid things you've done you've actually caused more good in the world than bad. If this was just a coincidence it wouldn't matter, you'd get a one way ticket to hell. It's the thought that counts after all, but unlike so many others you actually did intend the beneficial consequences of your terrible actions. Not just as a means to an end, that also gets you a one way ticket to the pit, In spite of being a selfish criminal you lived an honorable and meaningful life, you made the world a better place and it will, surprisingly, be worse off without you."
As much as you didn't want to admit it, that was something you'd not have ever expected to be said about your life and death. There may have been those morning you but you'd never held the delusion that the world itself would be harmed with your passing. The opposite in fact.
"You kept your men in line, leading by example. You improved your community through charity as more than just a means of getting publicity. You operated fairly and honestly with your patrons. And quite merciful, at least compared to your predecessor and compatriots. You're quite an old soul really, this is the sort of thing we only really saw centuries ago with anything resembling regularity. It'd be enough to justify a softer sentence certainly, but that's not all there is to it. You have lots of good and bad karma, it mostly cancels each other out, but you haven't actually used up all of your Karma."
You blinked, not understanding.
"That means you died before your time," she elaborated, "We'd normally be able to judge you either way, and it's not like we can bring you back to life, but your remaining potential for good or evil is actually quite amazing. You were destined for great things before you died Shiomi-san. Individually these things would amount to little in determining your fate, but combined it all comes together for quite the opportunity for you. It means, Shiomi-san...
"That we can give you a second chance at life!"
Your eyes widened, a strange maelstrom of emotions flooded you. Of course gratefulness at this news, but also confusion, and more than a little suspicion.
"But you said-"
"Yes, we can't bring you back to life. But, you still have some time left in you even if your body is dead. So," She paused with a grin, "We just need someone with the opposite problem. No time left but a living body! And we have just the body in mind for you. There will be a few... stipulations of course."
"And what would those happen to be, shinigami-san?"
"Well, there's a few more rules that would also interfere with bringing you back to life here, technicalities really. Still, it means you will need to be reborn in another world, I'm sure you're familiar with the concept as I understand it's quite popular in your countries entertainment nowadays," Mikael explained, "Actually that might be something to look into, it wouldn't do if some custodians are getting careless..."
You just nodded along. You didn't know, but honestly didn't care. You never cared much for the television as more than a convenient means to get the news or help with security. You had more important things to take care of. Another world then, would you be waking up in the body of a demon, a denizen of Makai?
"Oh good, then I won't need to explain that at least," Shit, "We'll be treating this like a Last Wish, most of your Karma is going to go into just being reborn but... Well, obviously you know the sort of situation you're going to end up in so you'll be getting a little gift since we're not going to be doing this a second time."
She stood up, holding out her hand but held up a finger on her other one when you tried to take it.
"Nah-ah, we still have to hammer out one last thing before we can seal the deal," She tutted, "There's prices to be paid and gifts to be given, you may not be destined for hell but you are far from a saint. We can't just be giving you something so precious so free. Tell me Shiomi-san, if there was one thing you value most about yourself what would it be? Something that you can say that you hold above everything else. Think deeply before answering Shiomi-san, and once you have your answer we can seal the deal."
The wording was ominous, and you thought for a moment to simply lie. Then her grin stretched into something sinister, as if reading your thoughts and daring you to do so. You were tempted to do so anyway to spite her for that look but you didn't make it as far as you did by being so impulsive. You would answer honestly, but in the end it didn't take long to find your answer.
"My strength," You said clearly, "It my strength that won me my position, I started with nothing once and I could do so again so long as my body is strong. More than anything else, Strength is what defines Shiomi Gen."
She didn't really react to your little speech, still with that smug look upon her face. She re-extended her hand to you, and with a bit of trepidation you reached out to shake it. They raised, and the moment they came back down you felt a pull in your navel as the world around you seemed to stretch around the girl and you felt as if you were caught in a maelstrom.
"And with that the deal is done," Her voice was clear over the sound of breaking glass and rushing rapids, "I look forward to seeing what you do with this."
------------------------------
And that's how you ended up waking up in this horrid place, in the body of a small girl child. Stick thin and sickly, you'd felt cheated by that damned kami until you slammed your fist down on the bedside table, cracking it in two like a disposable pair of chopsticks. It most definitely was made of hardier stuff than that, it was clearly well made as your discerning eyes could see.
Despite keeping the monstrous strength that earned you the name of "Gen the Assassin" in your youth, you still felt cheated. Sure you'd said that Strength was what most defined you, but that didn't mean you didn't care about certain other things too. Like your dick for example. Or your penis. And let's not forget YOUR FUCKING COCK! Dammit you wanted a do over, you didn't think your fucking manhood would be on the line!
Those first days had been a special kind of hell. You had been born on a world without technology, and while there were many things you would not miss about the modern world, toilets would not be among them. You'd been confronted first hand with the fact you were missing something vital and irreplaceable. At first you'd tried your best to hold it in, the very thought of what releaving yourself would entail with your new equipment made you feel like a criminal.
... Well, a different sort of criminal. You most certainly didn't have tastes that ran that way, you were a tits and ass sort of man. Anything less than a handful wasn't even worth looking at.
The man who was the father of this child was quite surprised to see you awake, giving you a meal before locking you away in the back of his mansion. Oh how that burned your pride, to be treated as a child. Even if your body looked like this you were at your heart still Shiomi Gen (Age 56) and would not stand being treated as such. Sadly you were quickly stricken with illness, and as strong as you were you couldn't quite escape with legs that gave out in seconds and random fainting spells.
So you spent three years recovering your health, to your father's shock. It had seemed no one believed you'd survive the first week, let alone reach a point where you could keep from vomiting up your blood after a hardy meal It still happened sadly, but perhaps maybe once a month as opposed to once a day as it had started as. Heh, the fools underestimated the strength The Assassin, as if a simple sickness alone would be enough to kill you.
You didn't pay much attention to your new family, having little reason to care, but you were not dense enough to learn nothing. And with little else to do as you slowly recovered your strength you chose to gather a bit of information.
Your mother, the Lady von Ascham had died days prior to your arrival. Her carriage, carrying both her, her brother, her father, and her son had been attacked by bandits and the family slaughtered. Your father, the viscount, had remained at home sick in bed as the had gone to take care of an important meeting when the tragedy struck. Very fortunate for him. And so it was, that at learning this news at the dinner table the young miss Adele, her health frail from years of wasting sickness, had her young and weak heart fail on her. It was only the expert doctors that mother had hired to care for father that saved her life, if only for her fate to be a sleep she might never awaken from.
They were quite shocked to learn of her miraculous recovery mere days later.
But as it was, dear father had been busy in those few days. His wife passed, her kin with her, and the surviving daughter doomed to an uncertain but likely terrible fate he'd taken steps to ensure the Ascham name continued. And so, less than a month after his wife was buried he had another in his bed. And you had a new sister. Priscilla Vorband, now von Ascham. A spoiled girl, but at least one who learned her lesson about not starting what one couldn't handle.
You'd honestly have prefered to have been an orphan, even in this unadvanced age. You knew the streets and could handle yourself, and you figured they'd be more hospitable than the viscount and his new family. You actually would have considered your previous childhood to even be a step up from your current one.
In the end your strength recovered, and you were able to convince the viscount to let you go out into the world now that you probably wouldn't die from a strong breeze. He expected you to receive schooling, grow your education, and become a more valuable asset he could marry off to tie himself to anther family. Honestly it was fairly easy to recognize, it was something Yakuza, or really any politically powerful group did. You'd actually met your ex-wife through an Omiai, a wedding meeting, as the Sandaime wanted to bring in a certain up and coming lieutenant a bit closer to his family. A niece wasn't exactly the strongest tie one could make, but it raised his position in the Family and the Sandaime obtained the loyalty of the man who would carve a bloody legend through the darkened streets of Kanto.
He invested in her, expecting her to pay him back with her life. Oh, he may have known her to be a bit willful, but he just brushed it off as a phase, and that a proper school would teach her how to be a proper woman. That when she returned the now proper Young Miss would marry whatever man he deigned to place in front of her 'for the good of the family.' Such a shame for him that the Young Miss, who was anything but, would sooner die than accept that. The fool probably thought his little girl would be too grateful for the opportunity to just roll over for him.
But Shiomi Gen, now Adele, was nobodies bitch. Past, Present, or otherwise. She would take this opportunity and milk it for all it was worth and swindle every last drop of 'charity' he was willing to invest in her upbringing, she would take everything and leave nothing, nothing but total destruction in her wake. Such was a Man's way, and regardless of what body he happened to inhabit Shiomi Gen (age 56) was a man.
The thought of crushing the other man beneath his foot on his climb to the top brought a wicked grin to your face. Your muscles twisted themselves back into the familiar position you felt back in your days as The Assassin of Kanto. The grin that would strike terror in the hearts of even the most hardened and wicked men who called the streets their home.
"Oh you're such a dear," An old woman sitting beside you in the carriage pinched your cheek, "Putting on such an bright smile, planning on chasin' away the rain with a sunny disposition?"
"N-no, of course not, Aunty," You answered through gritted teeth. Gods damn this adorable body you were cursed with! "I'm almost 16 years old now, I've outgrown such childish things long ago!"
"Oh don't be so quick to through away your youth child!" The old woman chided, "Enjoy these innocent times while you can, pretty soon you'll be old and wrinkled like me. You only get one life so don't be so eager to speed through it."
Yeah, I used to think that too ya old bat.
"So what were you smiling about then?" It wasn't the old woman who asked, but rather a boy about your (physical) age, perhaps a bit older, sitting across from you. He had a innocent curiosity about him, one that broke as he seemed to recall something and averted his gaze blushing and rubbing the back of his head, "Er, that is if you don't mind me asking, Milady."
You ignored the old woman giggling to herself as she watched the two of you to fix the boy down with a pointed glare. It had a nominal affect, but at the very least he appeared to understand you were displeased with his mode of address. For a number of reasons.
Michael Celest, a young squire from the township your father looked over and son of one of his servants, the head butler. The boy had been to mansion before, in the company of his father, and had at one point served as a playmate for the young Adele. He was going to become a butler for the family, following in his father's foot steps so it made sense that he would be getting schooling of some sort.
It was still terribly transparent. That the boy, two years older than you, would be sent at the same time as you to the same school? That it would a nobleman's school in the capitol, even if it was one for minor nobles, ha! It was quite easy to see your father's little ploy to have someone watch you. The boy barely even knew to hide his glances, even with your experience you'd think you would notice the looks he sent you when he thought you weren't paying attention to him. The child had a long way to go if he wanted to spy on anyone, let alone you.
But you would take this and spin it to your advantage. Capture a piece from your father to put to your own use, like shogi. And while you were gifted in more physical ventures you, like a proper Japanese man should, knew how to play the game of like a boss.
You could never have to many underlings after all.
"I was just thinking about going to school," You told him, "I just can't wait until we start."
"Oh? Why's that?" He asked leaning closer, "You had such a big smile I'd really like to know what could have caused it."
"Oh you know..." Shit, you tried to come up with an excuse, somewhat hard given you'd dropped out of middle school to join a gang, "Innocent... girl things?"
Thankfully fortune was on your side, as the carriage came to a stop, conveniently halting any annoying followups to the conversation.
"Oh my, it's too soon to have arrived to the city just yet," The old woman muttered, "Did a tree fall over the path?"
It was then that you heard something over the muddled rain, dampened by the white noise and cloth. It was an unmistakable sound to you.
You jumped up out of your seat, pushing Michael's head off of where it landed on your lap to let him fall to the floor. Without hesitation you jumped out the back of the cart, ignoring the old woman's squawk of surprise. You landed on your feet and quickly ducked, peeking around the corner of the wagon.
And there indeed was a tree in the path, uprooted entirely to lay flat across the full length. Several of the carriagemen of the carrivan were already starting to tie rope to it to pull it out of the way. As they began to gather in one place to pull you realized what was about to happen.
"No, Run!" You shouted, knowing that it'd be too late.
The men had barely a moment to register the word in confusion before a boulder flew out of the trees at the speed of a car and smashed through the group of unsuspecting men, pulping them in an instant. Several survived a few moments longer before dying beneath the rubble. The rest of the men scattered, several being taken down by arrows also coming from the forest.
You cursed under your breath. You'd recognized the noise from before as the whistles and knocks used to signal others, something that could be ignored by the ignorant or complacent over the din of noise in the city but any sharp eared Yakuza knew to look out for to avoid ambush.
And that's what this was, an ambush. Already armed men were beginning to exit the woods.
[X] Flee. You've no need to fight here and no wish to needlessly risk your life.
[X] Fight. Whether or not it was intended this is an attack on The Assassin of Kanto, you would teach them the error of their ways.
[X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
Honorbound
The False One
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[X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
Perfect. This is the middle ground.
Perfect. This is the middle ground.
krahe
Versed in the lewd.
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I'm actually a little curious of what HR totally-not-Youjo-Senky manager thought his most value trait was. I want to say it's his smarts, but that's just lazy and unoriginal
[X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
Master of Squirrel-fu
The Original
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Each one has a different way they were reincarnated. Not-Tanya and Misato would have come in with their canon methods.
Gen is from a manga I read that isn't a reincarnation manga I just find him amusing. The otherone is just a generic Otaku OC.
angelofwhim
Experienced.
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[X] Fight. Whether or not it was intended this is an attack on The Assassin of Kanto, you would teach them the error of their ways.
fitzgerald
Experienced.
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[X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
Master of Squirrel-fu
The Original
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I'll close up polling in about ten hours when I get out of work.
Pinklestia
Well worn.
- Joined
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X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
I would prefer to flee, but whatever.
I would prefer to flee, but whatever.
Master of Squirrel-fu
The Original
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2013
- Messages
- 2,976
- Likes received
- 13,373
[X] Observe. You do not know what is happening or why, you'll play dumb for now to see if you could learn more before acting.
You didn't get as far in life as you did by being nothing more than a fool. Your passion was tempered with caution and guile, a man needed to know when to attack, and more often then not it meant knowing when not to. At least a dozen armored and armed men, with some sort of catapult or such to fling boulders with a frightening amount of accuracy. You were strong but that did not mean you were invincible, you'd like to minimize any chance of a turning of luck leading to your unfortunate demise.
For a second time, once was enough.
The Men were organized, coming out of the wood in groups at a quick but rushed pace. Immediately, and efficiently they began to head towards the nearest carts. Swords quickly unsheathed to slay the horses in quick succession while others stabbed at the few remaining men that tried to attack. In a matter of seconds any option you may have had of surprising them with a counter offensive with the remaining men died with them. Several tried to flee only to be shot down by arrows, and in one unlucky case a cart driver tried to rush past only for a boulder to turn his wagon into a mass of kindling and blood as the livestock held in it were crushed.
When one of the men grabbed your arm to drag you away you didn't fight back, cautious and wary of retaliation and having seen your avenues for escape so swiftly closed. It rankled you awfully to simply let yourself be manhandled, dragged away where they were gathering the survivors but you didn't voice it just yet. Your companion voiced it enough for you, receiving a swift pommel upside the head to quiet him up. He would have continued had you not shot him a warning look. Thankfully the foolish brat was at least obedient, else he would not have gotten off so lightly a second time.
It was over quickly, minutes at the most. Most of the men were dead, those that were not where dragged into the main group by others. Or else put down by your attackers. Your underling is sent with them, you however were met with a measuring look before the man who stood guard gestured to the second, smaller, group of young women that they threw you in with. It was very clear to your eyes what featured matched you with them despite your much younger age.
You, along with the three girls cowering near you, each had a Lady's light hair. Your's a bluish silver, theirs various other pallets of colors that were light enough to almost be mistaken for white. A pale pink, a light purple, and a pale blonde. The stylings, including your own, where all simplistic as one would expect from commoners, but a pale shade was definitive of having a noble's blood in one's ancestry. It rarely manifested outside of a single generation of removal, that is bastard children.
Hostages then? It made sense, for even a bastard born daughter could possibly be ransomed back to a noble of at least some sense of honor. You doubted the likelihood of such things, but hoped that your father's example hadn't been indicative of the average attitude towards their unnecessary children. For those girls sakes at least.
It was just a few more minutes for the rest of the men to enter the clearing, they were about 20 strong, most disappearing to search through the various carts or loot what little of value was on the corpses. A crew of 10, each armed with swords stood guard over their prisoners. A couple children were dragged out of one to be tossed with the main group, and later a sickly looking man who was quickly hugged by several similarly looking people you assumed to be relatives. No new prisoners for your group though. That they had not simply executed them where they were found hiding was a good sign at least.
Eventually two approached, a man dressed in far more impressive armor, made of actual metal rather than the leathers of his companions, and another who oddly was dressed in robes and holding a large stick. An odd couple to be sure, but not the weirdest you've seen. The stopped in front of the area, the first with a ratlike face and a look of disgust on it. The other was all smiles, at least what could be seen under the shadows of his hood.
"Is this all of them?" Asked the rat-faced man to one of guards, "You've checked the bodies and carts?"
"Aye, some men're still checking but I think we got 'em all," the guard nodded, "One ran into the woods but she was just some common lil' bint. Green hair like a Doxie, Abner got her in the leg so she won't be gettin' too far."
"Send one of the runners after her," a pause, "Actually get Laurence and that hound of his in case she found a place to hide. We're not missing a single one, not if we wanna get paid."
The guard nodded and left to relay Ratface's orders. The man himself turned his disdainful eyes on his captives, scanning over them and eventually stopping on the your little group and sighing.
"A 'Pale-haired' girl, ugh this is such a waste," he groused, "If I'd known there'd be more than one I'd have asked that Rooster to be specific. Such a shame to see a profit thrown away."
At this the robed man stepped forward, still smiling.
"Sir, we could always just lie."
Ratface shook his head, "No, the patrol needs to find the body to prove it, they don't see her body we don't get our gold."
"Shame, Pale-Hairs always get good prices, even used."
The man said nothing but drew his sword. The men and women began to back away until halted by the guards and those in your own group flinched. The pinkette staring in stupefied terror while the blond looked like a cornered mouse. The only think keeping order was the other men, those behind and surrounding also reading their weapons to swiftly cut or shoot down the first to try something. The only person who seemed to keep their wits was the lavender haired girl who stared back defiantly, a sight that would have been more impressive had she not been such a small child.
"Sir," a guard spoke, "Actually, since we're not going to be selling them... we'll it'd be a waste to just kill them right away."
The man seemed to consider it for a moment.
"No," he said, "We're on a time limit. Lest you want to remove the head from a corpse to bring along you can make do with one of the other girls. Now, draw steel, the lot of you, I want this quick and clean, you can have your fun when when we're riding back to camp."
With those words the men advanced.
[X] Fight.
[X] Flee.
[X] Something else.
You didn't get as far in life as you did by being nothing more than a fool. Your passion was tempered with caution and guile, a man needed to know when to attack, and more often then not it meant knowing when not to. At least a dozen armored and armed men, with some sort of catapult or such to fling boulders with a frightening amount of accuracy. You were strong but that did not mean you were invincible, you'd like to minimize any chance of a turning of luck leading to your unfortunate demise.
For a second time, once was enough.
The Men were organized, coming out of the wood in groups at a quick but rushed pace. Immediately, and efficiently they began to head towards the nearest carts. Swords quickly unsheathed to slay the horses in quick succession while others stabbed at the few remaining men that tried to attack. In a matter of seconds any option you may have had of surprising them with a counter offensive with the remaining men died with them. Several tried to flee only to be shot down by arrows, and in one unlucky case a cart driver tried to rush past only for a boulder to turn his wagon into a mass of kindling and blood as the livestock held in it were crushed.
When one of the men grabbed your arm to drag you away you didn't fight back, cautious and wary of retaliation and having seen your avenues for escape so swiftly closed. It rankled you awfully to simply let yourself be manhandled, dragged away where they were gathering the survivors but you didn't voice it just yet. Your companion voiced it enough for you, receiving a swift pommel upside the head to quiet him up. He would have continued had you not shot him a warning look. Thankfully the foolish brat was at least obedient, else he would not have gotten off so lightly a second time.
It was over quickly, minutes at the most. Most of the men were dead, those that were not where dragged into the main group by others. Or else put down by your attackers. Your underling is sent with them, you however were met with a measuring look before the man who stood guard gestured to the second, smaller, group of young women that they threw you in with. It was very clear to your eyes what featured matched you with them despite your much younger age.
You, along with the three girls cowering near you, each had a Lady's light hair. Your's a bluish silver, theirs various other pallets of colors that were light enough to almost be mistaken for white. A pale pink, a light purple, and a pale blonde. The stylings, including your own, where all simplistic as one would expect from commoners, but a pale shade was definitive of having a noble's blood in one's ancestry. It rarely manifested outside of a single generation of removal, that is bastard children.
Hostages then? It made sense, for even a bastard born daughter could possibly be ransomed back to a noble of at least some sense of honor. You doubted the likelihood of such things, but hoped that your father's example hadn't been indicative of the average attitude towards their unnecessary children. For those girls sakes at least.
It was just a few more minutes for the rest of the men to enter the clearing, they were about 20 strong, most disappearing to search through the various carts or loot what little of value was on the corpses. A crew of 10, each armed with swords stood guard over their prisoners. A couple children were dragged out of one to be tossed with the main group, and later a sickly looking man who was quickly hugged by several similarly looking people you assumed to be relatives. No new prisoners for your group though. That they had not simply executed them where they were found hiding was a good sign at least.
Eventually two approached, a man dressed in far more impressive armor, made of actual metal rather than the leathers of his companions, and another who oddly was dressed in robes and holding a large stick. An odd couple to be sure, but not the weirdest you've seen. The stopped in front of the area, the first with a ratlike face and a look of disgust on it. The other was all smiles, at least what could be seen under the shadows of his hood.
"Is this all of them?" Asked the rat-faced man to one of guards, "You've checked the bodies and carts?"
"Aye, some men're still checking but I think we got 'em all," the guard nodded, "One ran into the woods but she was just some common lil' bint. Green hair like a Doxie, Abner got her in the leg so she won't be gettin' too far."
"Send one of the runners after her," a pause, "Actually get Laurence and that hound of his in case she found a place to hide. We're not missing a single one, not if we wanna get paid."
The guard nodded and left to relay Ratface's orders. The man himself turned his disdainful eyes on his captives, scanning over them and eventually stopping on the your little group and sighing.
"A 'Pale-haired' girl, ugh this is such a waste," he groused, "If I'd known there'd be more than one I'd have asked that Rooster to be specific. Such a shame to see a profit thrown away."
At this the robed man stepped forward, still smiling.
"Sir, we could always just lie."
Ratface shook his head, "No, the patrol needs to find the body to prove it, they don't see her body we don't get our gold."
"Shame, Pale-Hairs always get good prices, even used."
The man said nothing but drew his sword. The men and women began to back away until halted by the guards and those in your own group flinched. The pinkette staring in stupefied terror while the blond looked like a cornered mouse. The only think keeping order was the other men, those behind and surrounding also reading their weapons to swiftly cut or shoot down the first to try something. The only person who seemed to keep their wits was the lavender haired girl who stared back defiantly, a sight that would have been more impressive had she not been such a small child.
"Sir," a guard spoke, "Actually, since we're not going to be selling them... we'll it'd be a waste to just kill them right away."
The man seemed to consider it for a moment.
"No," he said, "We're on a time limit. Lest you want to remove the head from a corpse to bring along you can make do with one of the other girls. Now, draw steel, the lot of you, I want this quick and clean, you can have your fun when when we're riding back to camp."
With those words the men advanced.
[X] Fight.
[X] Flee.
[X] Something else.
Master of Squirrel-fu
The Original
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2013
- Messages
- 2,976
- Likes received
- 13,373
Sorry for the delay, mother's day weekend and all.
OverReactionGuy
The only Sane one left
- Joined
- Oct 10, 2014
- Messages
- 26,240
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- 166,846
[X] Fight.
Here's to hoping we have super strength or something, otherwise we'd be boned either way.
Here's to hoping we have super strength or something, otherwise we'd be boned either way.
angelofwhim
Experienced.
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2014
- Messages
- 2,703
- Likes received
- 3,391
[X] Fight.
JoshieWoshie
Well dressed, for the occasion
- Joined
- Jan 25, 2015
- Messages
- 1,175
- Likes received
- 10,950
[X] Fight.
fitzgerald
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 3,300
- Likes received
- 6,903
[X] Fight