Hara-Kiri(n)

???

An island, floating in... nothing. An island, carved of earth and drifting aimlessly in a vast of expanse of sheer, pitch-black darkness.

A river softly carves through it, misting softly as it rains down from somewhere above, sweeping over, and spilling out, downwards into the nothing below.

A massive cherry blossom erupts from the ground behind you, branches overhanging the entire island, its petals slowly falling, seeming to never run out. It's roots crawl over and brace the entire little chunk of floating dirt, digging in and out at various angles.

Close to the other side of the tree, opposite of the river, is a small pond. Diminutive in comparison, it's source is but a dribble leaking from above into it, with the tiniest little creek running from it and over the side.

Sato, you find yourself seated under the tree, on your knees. You're comfortable. You don't hurt. It's... quiet. Peaceful. You feel like you could stay here for an untold length of time.

From here, you can see there's a single large white fish, bearing a vivid orange streak, swimming in a circle, like a... Yang, but with no Yin.

On the other side of the island, in the little pond, is a smaller, deep blue fish. Like the other, it bears it's own streak of black, swimming aimlessly a circle, like a... Yin, with no Yang.

Each swims opposite the other, as if they were each two separated halves of a whole. Watching them brings a sad feeling to your heart, and a sour feeling in your throat. When you gaze upon the large one... you feel guilt. Loneliness of your own design, and an upset at yourself. When your vision falls upon the smaller of the two, a spike of betrayal and jealousy settles in your chest, that makes you want to glare upon the other fish. The whole island feels... like it's bathed in a deep sorrow. Feelings of guilt, and pain ebb around you, Sato.

Perhaps the reasoning is the pond itself. Upon a focused inspection, the water that holds the little fish is... dark. Mucky. Downright filthy sludge. Certainly not water good for a fish to thrive.

Perhaps if the two were joined together again?

The thought seems to meet some untold, unseen resistance. You get thing awkward pang, this feeling, of how that belief is... not yours to make. Beyond you.

And yet, you want to rise. But roots, spreading from the cherry blossom, hold your legs firm. They slowly grow and grasp your lower body, holding you to your knelt position... like this is not for you to decide.

...But how could they hold you, Sato? You, who burns with the flames of benevolence? Who charges headlong into the unfavorable, letting little stop you in the name of what is right?

The roots crumble, curling in on themselves as they crumble to ash around you, the cherry tree recoiling away. The flames, deep blue twisting to red as they flicker, softly glow over you.

A new feeling emerges in your chest. This feels wrong, like this action itself is profane. Like you intrude upon something. Like you meddle. Like what you are doing, is not for you to decide, Sato. That you should not even be here.

Yet, here you are. You look at your hand, as it softly crackles in a familiar mixture of flame and ember. That hasn't stopped you, has it? To do what feels right. No, Sato. This is right.

You kneel beside the little pond, watching the little fish struggle. It's hard to see it, with its deep-blue scales in the thick sludge-like water. It's as if the water itself is trying to shield the fish from your sight in this filth. It looks like watered down ink, likely suffocating the poor thing.

You reach in, carefully scooping the fish into both of your palms. The flames broil away the sludge, purifying the water as the fish continues to swim. Now freed of its burdens, unharmed by the intent of the heat that exudes from you, it's tail flickers as it slowly twists and turns in place.

With great care, you slowly walk it across to the river, to the awaiting white fish that dwarfs it. The roots try again, erupting from the ground, tearing it apart and clawing for your legs. It's a pointless endeavor, as they crumble and falter, turning to ash as they so much as near you.

Your knee settles in the grass, and with great care, you lower the little blue fish into the river -- this water, in comparison, is already warm. It's calm, crystal clear, welcoming even. The moment the little blue fish leaves your palms, the big white fish encircles it, trailing innumerable circles around it -- as if it had missed it. In moments, the two swim in circles again, centered in the middle of the babbling brook. Any time the little fish struggles or slows, the big one pauses, waiting for it.

You still feel like you did what was right.

But you can't shake this feeling, that you're unwelcome. It's a smothering, claustrophobic sensation. You have broken some kind of balance with your actions, Sato -- the sorrow that has sat in this place, the guilt, has left, but in doing so, has opened the way for upset and anger.

You glare at the tree. It had tried to stop you... this emotional assailant seems to stem from it. Perhaps, something foul in disguise, its deception in it's chosen form as something familiar, something dear to you. Something from home. Whatever it is, it desires the misery of the creatures you choose to aid. Like the Mongols, to the Kirin. And you have made your stance on such a thing abundantly clear already, Sato. You have done what you know is right, and you will continue to do so.

What feels right... is to join the fish? To step into the river, where warmth and welcome await. But the flames that flicker around you, the scowl on your face, finds that your hand now holds a blade.

You turn to the cherry tree, watching it's branches gnarl, it's leaves turn a sickly black. They fall faster and in greater number, unending as your vision is clouded by their sheer volume.

A Quiet Hovel

You startle awake, gasping loudly.

Part of you wishes you didn't. Everything hurts. Your entire body pulses in a dull, aching pain that racks your whole being. From a mixture of the beating you took foolishly taking on a bandit camp by yourself, to the scorched strain on your body when you... well, when you burnt alive, Sato. The smell of your own cooked flesh sits in your nostrils.

You force several pained blinks, staring at the wood-braced ceiling of... some kind of little hut. The ceiling seems quite low, as if built for quite the short man. If you stood, you would likely hit your head.

You're laying on the floor, on some kind of... worn, old blanket. It's not a material you recognize, but it feels soft. There is furniture, but it is too small for you to even consider using. Much of it has been pushed aside, to clear the spot of which you lay. Your head is propped up by a fairly hard, warm pillow. Your chestpiece and sleeves have been removed, stacked against the wall nearby.

Some kind of salve, viscous and slimy, has been spread overtop of your injuries. You're heavily bruised, the purple welts jarring across your body... but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. And there's... burn marks, spotted all across you. It's pretty bad, and the main source of your discomfort.

...That's right. The Kirin. You... Sato, you were on fire. Real, actual flames flickered and burned across your body, your blade, your armor. You served as the vessel for the Kirins fury, the justice for its judgement. You felt it pour its emotions into you, and now you bear the mark of such an action.

That's...

An honor. But what a painful one.

You groan, carefully rubbing at your eyes -- even attempting the action sends a pulse of sharp pain through your system, and you audibly wince.

Your pillow flinches and shifts in reaction, lifting your head as it moves.

... It what?

You try to turn your head slowly, pushing through your bodies immediate complaints through sheer curiosity, and are met face to face with the Ochre-Colored Kirin that you had first rescued. Your head currently leans on its scaly back, its nose nearly pressed to yours.

It slowly blinks several times, likely having just awoken itself, as it's eyes roaming to look you over. And then it licks your nose.

It's face is, of course, entirely expressionless and bored, as you've come to expect from it.

But through the contact on its back, you feel... a pulse. An ebb of concern. Is the only way it can express emotions through physical touch?

You're torn from your thoughts by sudden realization. You're laying on a mythical creature. Not of your own choice, but that doesn't change anything. You should get up, this can't be anything but disrespectful.

You go to shift off your back, to lift up, but pain racks your body again. A hoof, tender and careful, reaches out and presses against your shoulder, urging you to hold still. Ever so slightly, it shakes it's head.

You sigh, unwillingly slumping back down, your head resting against the warm body. This was... highly inappropriate. Had they tended to you? Were the others alright? There had been more cages... and a person. And... Kiko. Had she come through the gate?

Thinking is hard. It hurts.

You can feel... you feel...

Your eyes close, a calm, gentle warmth, a feeling of care emanating from the Kirin that you lay your head on.

Sleep takes you again, Sato.

Fifteen Years Ago, The Anonzo Estate

A firm, callused hand slaps your shoulder, urging you forward. Your father grins, leaning to point forward into the distance.

"Come, Son. It's time we made a man of you yet, hm?" He laughs, striding past you.

Ahead, the Clan's stables, abuzz with midday activity. Numerous steeds and even more stablehands ferry food, drink, and care alike for the stored horses. For your birthday, your father had decided on quite the gift. Riding lessons. Your feet quickly scamper to keep up with your fathers paces, the strong smell of hay assaulting your nostrils. Your nose scrunches, barely stifling a sneeze.

Your father is paused by some of the fencing that extends out of the stables, leaning against the posts. You quickly hop up beside him, staring into the pen.

There's a few stablehands tending to the horses and other activity to gaze upon, but what draws your attention is the young mare in the pen's center. Shes's young, but clearly spirited with the attitude she exudes. A messy blonde mane, thin chestnut fur and black socks just above each of her hooves. One of the hands is trying to catch her as she runs laps around him, reins hanging loosely. Every time one of the other stablehands tries to step in to help, she barrels through them or ducks between them, whinnying in defiance.

It's fairly entertaining.

"Right there, son. You see her? Kiko, they've taken to calling her." Your father gestures to the mare as she trots in place, to the opposite side of the hands.

"I see her, father. What about her?" You ask, glancing to him. His words are... foreboding. You recognize this tone of his.

Your father's bemused grin warns you of another of his... unusual approaches to the lessons he enjoys imparting on you.
"Get in there, boy. You're to tame her, and you're not to leave the stable until you can sit upon her with ease."

Well, it was entertaining.

"Father... I've no experience with horses." You weakly protest. You're already aware it's not going to work... you'd just like the chance to complain about it, at the least.

"Good thing it's a young one, then. Watch the hooves, watch the teeth... and don't let it step on you. Simple, eh?" He grins.

"...Yes father." You mutter, mood deflated. You know better than to argue with him... else he finds a way to make it more difficult, as a point to teach you yet another lesson at the same time. One was enough.

"Hey! Let the boy handle her!" Father calls to the hands -- they look over, between each other, and shrug. They meander to the fence you're both stood at, climbing up and out themselves, before they help hoist you inside. One offers you a sympathetic smile of pity.

Alright... you glance to your father for confidence as you slowly tread towards the young horse. He points towards the horse, Kiko, shouting words of encouragement.

She chuffs loudly, pawing the muddied dirt below as you get closer. You're feet away now, and she watches you with tense interest, ears pinned back. Perhaps, if you're slow... you reach a closed fist out towards the horse, inching closer. Ever so slowly, ever so carefully, watching her movements.

Her own pawing of the dirt seems to still, and she watches your hand suspiciously. Her head leans forward slowly, as if to sniff it.

You glance to your fath --

~

Wow, the sky was blue today. Few clouds, too. When did the sky get in front of you?

Your father comes into view, leaning over you. When did he get up there? Or, when did you get down here?

He looks worried for a moment, but that familiarly bold smile soon returns.
"Told you to watch out for the hooves, Sato. She's quite spirited, isn't she?" He chuckles, patting you down.

"She'd spun around and kicked you the moment you got close. That'll teach you for taking your eyes off her." Your father informs, looking up. Your eyes follow -- she's trodding in place on the opposite side of the pen, again. She nickers loudly... taunting. Still the master of the pen.

Your chest hurt, obviously, but your father found nothing broken. And true to his word, once your breath returned to you, he had you get right back to it.

It's nothing short of a miracle that nothing cracks or breaks as you attempt numerous versions of different approaches. But nothing quite seems to go your way, even with some additional encouragement or tips from the stablehands.

You're getting more familiar with the ground then you are with her, at this rate. It takes another three times of getting bowled over or knocked down to realize that, just maybe, this isn't quite going your way.

Let her approach you?

Easier said than done, considering she has no such plans.

~

Somehow, your birthday riding lessons turned into numerous days of waking up, breakfast, and spending the entire day at the stables, before heading to bead with bruises renewed.

Your father would stop by to check on you and your progress. Most of the actual help came from the stablehands willing to offer you some advice.

It took weeks before she lost interest in knocking you around. Eventually, she even came to tolerate you. You tried feeding her by hand.

Of course, she was far from tamed, and bowled you over again soon after. That was a common theme, for the pair of you.

It's hard to say if Kiko was ever actually tamed. More like you came to an understanding.

A Quiet Hovel

The next time you open your eyes, the pain has subsided immensely. Your body is no longer racked by dull, pulsing waves that make your lips curl and your body tense. It's a latent, sore tingle now.

You also find that you no longer have a 'pillow', your head on the floor. Had you upset it?

The answer is found pretty quickly as you glance up. Instead, it now sits directly on your chest, curled up like a cat. You freeze stock-still the moment you notice it, unsure of what to do.

Now, there's a thick layer of bandages that cover your torso, most of the bruises and burns hidden.

It's asleep, if the soft snoring, rising and falling of its chest, and firmly shut eyes are anything to go by. It's also incredibly warm, seeping heat like a gentle campfire. It's an enchantingly beautiful creature from this close, sleeping soundly against you. Definitely more horse-dragon than deer-dragon. It's tufted tail is nestled against your neck, tickling your skin with just how soft it is.

... Perhaps it's alright, if it is the initiator in this interaction? Quietly, you contemplate the ramifications of your actions, and just how strange the situation you find yourself in is, now that pain does not rob you of your focus.

Had it... bonded to you? You released it from its cage, and shared in its emotions, protecting its others. Its fellow kind. It was certainly a unique experience for you.

The others. You grunt in sudden recollection as the memories come piling back; there had been other Kirin here. It was some kind of... village for them, on this side of the Torii. And other cages... holding more creatures, including the one you grabbed from the leader.

And a human, not bearing their heraldry.

What of Kiko? Had she come through as well? She had been injured, her wound untended -- worry settles in your gut. You pray you haven't rested too long. But someone had been tending to you. Someone with medical knowledge, and access to materials.

You want to rise, to check on Kiko, the other Kirin, to exit this tiny abode you're being cared for in. But... there's a mythological creature sleeping on your chest. At least your injuries look like they're improving. How long have you been asleep, truly?

Carefully, and with the utmost respect... you slowly place a hand on the scaled back of the sleeping Kirin. It's like a miniature forge rests upon you. It's back surprisingly smooth, despite the numerous scales that cover it. In an instant, you feel a wave of... comfort. Safety.

It trusts you.

You purse your lips. It doesn't stir from the touch. If anything, it leans into it. You'll have to rely on your voice, if you've even still got one.

"...Exc...use." You manage -- it's a raspy whisper, your throats soreness flaring up the moment you speak, and your tongue is dry. You don't even get close to half of what you wanted to say out of your lips.

You feel it start to shift. One of its eyes slowly opens, stopping about halfway. It's usual, bored expression. Though it seems to perk up, if ever so slightly, on seeing you awake.

And then it licks your nose. Again.

... At this point, all you can do is deeply hope, pray even, that you're not overstepping some deeply laid or unspoken boundaries for local Kami, Spirits, Yokai... anything that would take issue with cuddling one of them so blatantly.

It slowly steps it's forelegs off your chest and to the floor, stretching like a cat as it takes it's sweet time removing itself from you. Hooves stretched forward, rump in the air, leaning forward... and leaning back, with little urgency. Perhaps a sign things aren't as worrisome as you might fear.

It's only once it has finished rousing itself, and fully hops down off you, that you're able to get up -- and it seems intent on staring at you expectantly, maintaining a surprisingly solid eye contact.

Perhaps it wants to see if you're well enough to rise. With gritted teeth, you slowly push yourself off the ground. Now that you're actually trying to rise off of it, you find the ground to simply be padded dirt, smoothed and pressed. The furniture is... simple. Most of the construction here is. Tribal, almost.

Breathing is hard... but doable. Your lungs aren't as irritated as they were, but you'd hardly rank using them in your top five favorite activies right now.

As you teeter around, first to your knees, the Kirin hovers close out of concern, as if ready to catch you. Probably. You aren't sure how it would do so without... hands.

You glance to your elbow. A soft, gentle wisp of some kind of... shimmering soft-orange glow has a hold of your arm, helping you balance. The Kirin's horn glows the same color, highlighting a mark engraved upon it.

That... you aren't going to tackle that right now. It already burst into flames.

You're going to have to learn bodily expressions if you keep dealing with these creatures... and you're unsure of how it's actually helping you up, but... you appreciate the returned care.

It doesn't take too long to get your cuirass re-applied overtop the bandages that cling to your body. While easier if you had some help, present company doesn't exactly bear enough thumbs to be of any real assistance, though not from lack of willingness. The Kirin continues to remain close -- very close -- carefully watching you strap yourself in your protective layers. It might be able to help with that glowing thing, but that would involve teaching it how your armor works. Which, would take time, and certainly wasn't a priority. Somehow, despite being so visibly concerned, it still looks dead bored. Such an odd thing.

Once you get to your feet, you nearly hit your head, flinching and pausing just short. Right. Very low ceilings. Keeping a ducked posture, the Kirin guides you towards the door -- which you have to crouch through as it holds it open with a hoof. Your own helmets ornament nearly catches the doorframe, requiring some odd shuffling on your end.

The Kirin Village

Bright light threatens to blind you, glaring down from above once you finally emerge. It's well into the day... though you aren't sure which, or how many have passed. You're thirsty, hungry... but not quite as in pain as you were, and tired has been replaced with sore. Overall, a net positive for the moment.

Your sandals dig into a bare dirt path, carved between tufts of grass, as you're tickled by the softest breeze. A little trail that spirals out from the equally small abode, carving between thick grass, towards the center of this... village.

You rise from the half-sized door, raising a bare hand to shield your eyes from the light that glances through the canopy. These trees... they are not of your home. They are tall, with massively thick leaves, and with strange fruit growing from their tops and branches.

There's a number of stumps roughly speckled on the far side, where what remains of this sides 'Torii'. Now, little more than cinders and broken sticks. The removed trees make the clearing feel awkwardly large. Must have been where they were getting wood for their encampment. The air is humid, making you appreciate that gentle breeze all the more. It's a fairly open clearing, with a good view of the clear sky above... it's a very vivid, light blue, clouds wisping distantly. It feels... unfamiliar. At the edges of the village, it quickly forms into a dense, thick forest, rife with vines and strange foliage.

The Ochre Kirin suddenly squeezes between your legs, startling you and nearly lifting you off your feet as it moves through your space. It's mindful of the horn, thankfully, before it slowly meanders down the little dirt path, glancing back at you.
...Your fault for not moving out of the way? At least it feels comfortable around you. Your eyes trail after it, settling on the the fountain beyond it that serves as the central figurehead to this natured plaza.

As your vision wanders, you see several other Kirin roam idly, performing... alarmingly mundane tasks. One is doing laundry in the river that slowly cuts through this little village... it seems to be bedding and sheets, worn down by the scales that cover their bodies. Several more simply sit around, in front of or even atop of little hillside or tree-side homes, much like the one that you just emerged from. Basking in the sun Thankfully they don't look any worse for wear. Or upset. Or... much of anything.

They're a variety of colors, all sharing that same expression. Half-closed eyes, and a disinterested stare that perpetuates a feeling of innate, perpetual boredom. Though it seems they're... a little larger, on this side of the gate. You're noticing it now that you can see so many of them, and the Ochre Kirin provided a plenty helpful example. Prior, they had only reached up to your thigh. Now, they were nearly up to your waist, if not over it with the horn.

As the Ochre Kirin reaches the fountain, it leans down to drink from it's edge. This must be how they split their water source... fountain for drinking, river for other needs. The fountain at least looks refreshing. Beautifully clear, and gently waving as soft currents caress it through the village. Your thirst demands you to, at least respectfully, try it. The way the Ochre Kirin continues to glance at you, then the water, and then to you again is evident enough. Slowly, cautiously, you walk down the dirt path, after the Kirin. You don't feel... unwelcome, but you can't shake this feeling that you aren't supposed to be here. Though that seems to be a common feeling, apparently.

There's several larger structures speckled between the homes as well, which draw your attention thanks to one notable point. They're all empty. Compared to the paths and areas around the houses, they have... what looks like a stage, a storehouse, and a few other buildings reminiscent of towns.

Across the river, far on the other side, there's a stack of iron cages, all opened and empty to the side of this clearing. It seems the Kirin managed to free themselves, and had disposed of their constraints, though it's not difficult to notice the wide berth they give them.

Several pairs of curiously bored eyes wander to follow your movements, as you near the riverside. You're drawing the attention of the numerous Kirin that populate this little hideaway, now that you're out and about. There's even a surprisingly large one with cream fur and an aqua mane, near twice the size of the others with a neck to match. It watches you from it's distant home, sharing the others expression of muted curiosity. It seems to be the only little hut that's actually sized large enough that it could fit you.

You swallow hard under their sudden visual assault, still hoping your presence doesn't offend. So far, you are tolerated in their realm... probably, and hope to keep it that way. You may be in the good graces of one Kirin, but you're not yet sure about the others just yet.

Your worried glances to the other, watchful Kirin have distracted you -- you nearly trip over the Ochre Kirin as you reach the fountain-side, stopping suddenly and balancing yourself. It continues to drink, only pausing once you have paused yourself, watching you from the corner of it's eyes. Assured you're not going to tip over it or knock it into the fountain, it resumes lapping.

It nods towards the water, which splashes quietly from a single spring that softly mists the water with it's downpour. Slowly, wincing through pain, you kneel beside it, resting on your knees, hands on your thighs. A slow sigh escapes you as you settle, catching your breath.

You're... exhausted. Surviving that ordeal took a lot out of you. Best to take it easy, Sato.

Slow, quiet, paced breaths. You close your eyes, basking in the light breeze.

There's a hoof pawing your knee. You crack an eye open, glancing down. The Ochre Kirin rests a hoof against you, sat beside yourself. It tilts it's head, nodding at the water. About as good of a permission as you might ever get. it watches as you slowly untie your mask, the strings draping loose as you gently place it into the grass.

You lean, letting your fingers dip into the cool water of the softly spraying, in-ground fountain. If it's their water source, hopefully it's clean... but you aren't terribly worried. The water seeps through your fingers, pooling in your palm. It's arguably the cleanest, clearest looking water you've ever laid eyes upon.

You lift it to your lips, the refreshing liquid sparing you from the parched throat that ails you. It may be the very best water you've ever had, if simply from need alone. The Kirin seems pleased, it's ears flickering as it watches you scoop handfuls of water to your mouth, drinking deeply. It takes some restraint to not simply lean in with your mouth and drink directly.

You cough suddenly, sputtering out the precious liquid -- having forgotten a rather important thing amidst your sudden thirst-bound binge. To breathe. You sit back on your heels, hefting deep breaths, calming yourself. There's no need to rush.

...

A deeply familiar whinny echoes out from across the village. It rips your attention from waiting water, towards the other side of the clearing.

She's already charging over, towering over every other creature and abode -- even the largest Kirin barely comes close to matching her height, and not even close to her stature. Kiko. She's alive and well -- and on this side of the Torii. You aren't granted much of a chance to think about the ramifications of such, as she comes sliding to a halt with her hooves dragging through the dirt, nearly bowling you over. The Ochre Kirin watches curiously, tilting it's head as it watches. It didn't even flinch as the full-sized horse came screeching to a halt beside it.

Kiko nickers with prudent, attention-demanding urgency, practically shoving her snout into your face. The smile that creeps onto it is a warm, relieved one, as you wrap your arms around her head, pulling her close.

"Well, that may explain why they're so willing to tolerate you so." A youthful voice suddenly calls out, from behind Kiko. Your eyes flash open, leaning to look past your steed. It's the other human you saw prior, if only for a moment -- now, without the flames obscuring your vision, and the adrenaline usurping your focus, it's much easier to get a look at them.

He looks to be teenage, adorned in a decorative, if a little dirtied, shrine-keeper's wear. He looks tired, but bemused, with red under his eyes.

"She'd hardly stay still long enough for me to bandage her, or clean her of the blood. Neither hers, nor theirs..." His words trail off. He contemplates something for a quiet moment, before continuing. "You, on the other hand, didn't so much as budge while I tended to you. I wasn't sure if you'd make it, considering how badly you'd come out of... that 'state', but that one there wouldn't leave your side." He continues, nodding at the Ochre Kirin as he joins your little growing gathering at the waterside, hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket.

"Tolerated?" You ask, surprised.

"You arrive in a flurry of flame and blood, hot on the heels of their oppressors, dealing death at the end of a bloodied blade. And yet, your gore-stained mount holds you in an incredibly high regard, and you willingly trap yourself in a foreign realm while carrying two of their ilk, despite being covered in wounds. To say you made quite the first impression with the locals is an understatement." He explains.

"...Ah."

"Ah indeed. I'm Incogni Kaito."

"Anonzo Sato."

"How are you feeling? After... all that?"

Now that a parched throat and a dry tongue no longer assails you, words manage to find their way to your lips. They aren't complex ones yet, but they're enough. Kiko softly pulls from your grass, chuffing in your face before she begins to graze on the greenery around you, leaving you to discussion.

Shinto and Bushidos vast opposites aside, there's little to not simply be respectful, here, even with the difference in age. You're not fully aware of anything quite yet, but it seems he's been nothing but helpful.
"Alive, thanks to you. And... strange." You bow, lowering your head.

"I'm allowed my freedom, unbound to an iron cage thanks to you and Burnt Ochre. It's the least I could do." He returns the bow, before taking a seat in the grass close by.

"Burnt Ochre?" You ask, idly tying your mask to your belt again, so as not to forget it.

"Her name." He imparts, looking to the Ochre Kirin that you rescued.

Your gaze, too, follows to the waist-height draconi-horsian. It -- or, she, seems far more intent on sharing your gaze, and looks to take it as some sort of invitation. She climbs onto your lap, settling like a confident, self-assured feline, kneading and pushing against your legs to make a comfortable spot for herself, curling up.

"Her? They speak?" You parrot, looking to the stranger for answers. They hadn't said so much as a word to you, yet.

He stifles a dry laugh. "Er... not quite. I've learned a few of their names, during our time here. She is Burnt Ochre. The other one you saved, that you were carrying in your arms, is Autumn Blaze. She's looking forward to meeting you as well, but has to wait. The largest one is Rain Shine, their leader -- and it's through her benevolence that we're allowed to stay. That sentiment is especially important towards you, and Burnt Ochre." He explains, watching Ochre climb upon you. Is that... a pang of jealousy on his face?

At hearing her name, she perks up, looking to the now shrineless priest. Then up to you. Her ears flicker when she meets your gaze. She's not exactly shy about holding it.

"Because of the fight?" You repeat, again. Short sentences are an apt exercise in helping you find your words. They come easy enough, without straining your still-tingly lungs.

"It's best left to Autumn to explain. She's the one Kirin who can speak, and the reason is..." He slows his words, clearly caught in thought.

"Sorry I... what happened?"

"Don't remember?" He asks softly.

"I do, it's just a... fiery, painful blur." You respond.

The Kirin snuggles a little closer against you when you say painful. You feel a pang of guilt ebb from it. One of your hands instinctively settles on its back, surprising yourself with your own movement.

"Fair enough. We... are in the Kirin's realm, if that hasn't made itself obvious." He gestures around, pointing out the village. Most of the Kirin continue to creep closer, watching the gathering while still keeping some distance.
"My family has tended a shrine in their honor for generations, some of us even blessed with interacting directly with them every few years. Usually, very minor interactions... a passing bow or a chance sighting." He continues, glancing into the distance.

Your eyes follow his, and you find they settle on the ruined remains of the portal that leads to this village. They're nothing but broken, ashy sticks and bramble now -- and you notice your sword stuck in the ground, jutting upwards in front of it. So that's where it went. You felt something was missing, but hadn't been quite able to place it.

He starts speaking again, drawing your attention once more.
"And now here we stand, accomplishing the generational dream of my family. To walk with them, talk with them... All it cost was everything." He dryly chuckles, biting his lip and looking away. It's clear what has happened was rough on him. Bittersweet, in a morbid way, and left to process the loss on his own. "And we have no way back, either. Not that I blame you, but... that hardly changes our circumstances."

"I'm sorry, for your loss. I haven't... upset them, or you, have I?"

"No, no. They are... well, there's one that you'll want to speak to. They appreciate the timely rescue, but there's an... uncomfortable nuance to the situation, and a reason why Autumn isn't here now. She's actually not allowed within the village, normally, but I shouldn't deny her the chance at that conversation. She's... a bit starved for individuals to talk to, and is eager to meet you."

"She's banned from the village? Why?"

"For the same reason they considered banning Burnt Ochre. The flames. But, we should go, if you're able. Autumn should really be the one to explain all of this." He urges, slowly rising to his feet, starting to walk along a winding path, partially overgrown with grass that leads towards the trees. It likely sees very little use, comparatively.

You look down at the Kirin on your lap. Burnt Ochre is her name... well, seems you clued in partially already, referring to her as Ochre. You hadn't expected them to have such... fiery names.

She's matching your gaze, staring into your eyes as yours stares into hers. Your hand is still on her back, palm to the off-green scales that protect her spine.

"I... need to get up. May I?" You ask the Kirin upon your lap.

She licks your nose.

The young Shinto Priest stifles a laugh into his sleeve, pausing to remain nearby and not get too far ahead.
"She's deeply concerned with your well-being. Like I said, she hasn't left your side since you came through."

"Wait. How did you and the other Kirin get out of the cages?"

"It wasn't too difficult once there weren't any of the Mongols left to ward the Kirins magics. Broke the locks. Took the better part of a day... and the bodies took most of the second day."

"Magic?" You repeat. You're reminded of the strange glow that had first helped you to your feet. Was that magic?

"No concern for the bodies?" Kaito snorts.

"That was my next question." You're quick to add.

"It's alright, I understand. Of those two topics, you're far more familiar with one than the other. But how familiar are you with Kami and Yokai?"

"Loosely. I've heard stories, done some reading."

"It..." He purses his lips, sighing. "They captured Rain Shine, when she noticed that the shrine wasn't being kept like it normally was. They chained her, and forced her magics to keep the portal open."

"Are they unable to defend themselves?"

"They actively work against their own defense mechanism. Come, Autumn will explain. You can probably move Ochre yourself, if she still refuses to budge."

"Is... that alright? To just pick her up?"

"You can ask her. They understand us, they simply do not speak, or express emotions well."

You glance back to the Kirin on your lap. Your very warm lap, thanks to her.
"...Is there anything specific or special I need to do?" You ask aloud, worried.

"Hm? Oh, just be respectful. They're quite understanding."

Your mouth slowly presses tight together, thinking. Your hand still rests on her back... and she's still emanating this feeling of concerned, warm trust.

Perhaps you can send something back?

With your palm to her scales, you try envisioning yourself carrying the Kirin in your arms. She's not quite small, so your imagination takes a little bit to figure out the best way to politely remove her from yourself...

She tilts her head, reading your face with slow, half-lidded blinks.

Her tail starts to flick around, Icogni watching curiously... as she pushes up, and climbs onto you awkwardly. Her hooves over your shoulders, barrel pressed to your chest. Your arms instinctively raise to hold her.

Well, not quite what you had in mind, but... with her off your lap, and now in your arms, it's a familiar enough stance to push yourself to your feet, without too much trouble. She's really not that heavy, surprisingly -- just very warm. Like a soft, safe to touch, fluffy campfire with a horn. That has a penchant for licking your nose.

She stares at you, nose to nose for a moment. She doesn't lick it this time, though. Burnt Ochre seems more interested in just... looking at you.

Her scales, like always, are smooth to the touch, each individual scale slightly lifted but hardly pointy. Her fur is soft but trim, the real fluffiness coming from the tufts that jut from her joins and tail, and the lush mane that encircles her head and neck. At one point, Ochre leans her head too far down, and clacks her horn against your helmet, startling you both. A hint of embarrassment flows from her, for a moment. For such a benevolent, mythological creature... she's very easy to understand.

...You smile softly.
"Thank you, Burnt Ochre. For your care. You're very kind." You say quietly, keeping a gentle tone.

...Did she just blush? Burnt Ochre suddenly glances away, pushing out of your grasp and hopping to the ground, quickly trotting past Kiko, and heading up the ill-used path.

Did you do something wrong? You feel oddly cold, now that you're not holding a small heat source. Your empty hands return to your side, as Icogni looks confused, staring at you.
"...What was that?" He suddenly prods, stepping forward.

"What was what?" You ask, confused.

"That!" He gestures suddenly, pointing to the slowly escaping Kirin, who now refuses to look in your direction.

"I... thanked it? Respectfully, as you said?"

"You..." He trials off, shaking his head. "Nevermind. Come on." He tsks, quickly taking after Burnt Ochre.

You're stood beside Kiko, confused. Was it something you said? Something you did?
"...What is going on, Kiko?" You mutter softly.

She chuffs hot air into your face, entirely unbothered by the emotional complexity of the situation, going back to grazing. Well, it was good to know Kiko hadn't changed, and was likely the one to keep you grounded during this entire... slowly-enfolding mess.

You're feeling better now, at least. Physically. Emotionally, there's a lot of consequences and ramifications you haven't had a moment to process yet. That even with their numbers halved, the bandits were still there... that you'd ignore orders and acted emotionally, putting yourself and Kiko at risk.

You sigh, patting Kiko's side. Worried thoughts for later, once you've spoken to Autumn. You start after Ochre and Incogni, moving a bit slower than them. The soreness is still there, even if it is muted, though you're not lacking for company. Kiko slowly trails alongside you, keeping your slowed pace.

You pause, taking a slight detour to stop for your weapon, Kiko going stationary as she waits. Pulling it from the earth, you quietly inspect it. The blade is warped, and stained with boiled blood. Untouched since your arrival, likely. It would need some significant care, and until then, was likely not much use to you. A guilty pang settles in your chest about it. The blade had been a gift, after all.

Little remains of the portal 'back home'. Originally grown of branches, bramble and what was likely a very nature-centric effort, now sits thoroughly cleaved and burned. It's shape has been ruined, with a good pile of ash and burnt wood speckled the ground beside it.

Your blade doesn't fit in the sheath that sits on the back of your hips, so neither of these things were exactly a good development. You're forced to tie the blade to the outside of the temporarily pointless container together with some of the ornamental string from your armor. You'd find somewhere safer to stash them later, away from the elements. Probably with wherever Kiko's gear is.

Icogni is waving at you, waiting for you. As is Ochre, head tilted in your direction. You nod, patting Kiko once you get back to her, meandering after them and towards the enthickening trees. You've an Autumn Blaze to meet.