Behind three mountains and two rivers, two bounty hunters, Kairo and Arubi, are traveling to Waslan City to pick a bounty. Their empty stomach pushes them forward, but they may hit a roadblock in the desert inside the bandits' lair.
Wacky adventure...
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In a faraway land behind three towering mountains and two wavering rivers, a young man strolled on a dirt path. Calling him a man might be exaggerating. Actually, he was half a pipsqueak. After all, he was barely fourteen at that time.
His steps were full of energy as if nothing in the world mattered to him. The falling edge of his wide straw hat, sando-gasa, shielded his eyes, blocking his vision. The gentle wind fluttered with his cape, but not even the strongest gust could steal it as a big, red umbrella, a wagasa, held it in place.
The boy jerked his body from almost tripping over a stone. However, he refused to lift his straw hat. He adjusted his dirty, short kimono, its end crumpled and torn in places. Its true-color had faded into tones of gray years ago.
His brownish pants, a hakama, weren't any better—decorated by many patches of red, green, and blue. His straw sandals, waraji, were the only decent part of his attire, keeping his feet protected from the cobbled paths.
A squirrel watched him from the tree, twitching its ears to catch even the faintest glimpse of danger. It jumped into the green crown, rustling the leaves as three bandits blocked the young lad's path.
"If you value your life, hand over your belongings!" shouted the messiest one. Stains from saliva, dirt, and undefined substances splattered across his whole clothes. However, that was nothing compared to birds making a toilet spot on his head.
The boy lifted his hat with a thumb, revealing half-lidded, red eyes that studied the robbers.
Their gaunt figures wore dirtier clothes than the boy had. Their hands held rusty katanas that could hardly cut cheese, much less bones. There was no doubt about it; he'd met traditional, street vermin. The boy sighed.
"All you beef?" asked the thief with missing teeth.
The boy didn't understand what he said, but given the thief's knitted leftovers of eyebrows, it wasn't about steaks. His rusty cogwheels moved, spinning half of the turn per minute.
Did he ask me if I'm deaf?
"Maybe he needs some motivation," the middle one, who seemed to have the biggest vocabulary of all of them, said. He poked the boy between the ribs. When the desired reaction didn't come, he pushed the hat off with a swing of his weapon.
The boy's eyes blinked, and his nose wrinkled. A silent hiss escaped his lips as the hat hung by its strap. The sun's rays fell on his messy white hair, making it sparkle, and in the middle sat a bun.
"Are you scared now, poor thing?" The middle bandit grinned, showing a glimpse of his yellow teeth.
The white bun twitched, bristling into a bigger ball. The bandits' eyes darted on it. Was that bun possessed? Their mouths dropped open as a long ear bolted upward. It twinged, and another ear followed. The bun enlarged, and a smaller ball protruded from under it. The bandits tilted their heads as their eyes widened, and a silent 'huh' escaped their lips.
