Blood, Steel and Ego

Swordsman of Smoke

Every Id is different and unique, dependant entirely on the chief desires of the person wielding it. These differing properties are applicable in varying ways, and lend themselves to specific styles of fighting. Metal Id is hard to pierce, while Id with properties of dust is quick and manouverable.  Depending on the Id, different  techniques can be honed, often only possible in the absence of an ego. These techniques are hard to master, but can allow a wide versatility to those willing to put in the effort, such as misdirection, extending one's range, and allowing for supernatural motivity beyond the capabilities of normal Id users.

High above them, Yadao's temple pierced the sky, casting a shadow that clawed across the garden. In that shadow, the little wooden house, covered in quaint carvings hid from outward eyes, nestled in the armpit of the mountain and leering at the two as they approached. It took far too long for them to cross the sand, and at several points, Silas considered making a run for it, but a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind instinctually told him it was a fruitless idea. As he looked back to where they came, he struggled to see the path that brought them here, and he dreaded trying his luck in the unmarked wilderness of the mountain.

Once they made their way inside, striding through the creaky wooden doorframe, they laid eyes on two others waiting for them, who quickly reconvened with the fox that escorted them in. Another spirit, similar, but taller and sharper than the first, leaned against the back wall. Her fur was darker, and her eyes more cautious, waiting completely still like a spring ready to snap. A kotatsu sat in the centre of the room, in its centre a steaming cup of tea, and behind it, kneeling on a cushion, a man in similar garb to the spirits around him waited patiently with a smile on his face.

Silas knew, before he took even any of his features in, that there was something inhuman about him.

His eyes were timeless, dark and tempered, hinting at untold experience, but his body lied on their behalf, young and smooth like porcelain. The way he sat, swayed, and passed his barely satiated gaze between the two of them gave him the air of a well-disciplined dog holding himself back. Despite covering most of his form in baggy robes, underneath them his body was thin and tight, every square centimetre flexing with subtle power, just enough, it would seem, to not break his own bones. Even the muscles that crept up to his head, small negligible ones in his neck, would stretch and crease with every nod or mouth movement like they were begging to be let loose.

"Oh joy, I've been waiting for someone to come... You may call me Yoshinobu. I'm the leading attendant of the mountain,"

His voice had a tang to it, slightly songlike, but also patronising at the same time. Surprisingly, it was also very light, and had no breath to it at all.

Quickly, he poured a single cup out, then slid it across the wood to Raiya with an absent smile. At first, Silas was confused, but she quickly picked it up and took a sip, then licked her lips and put it back down, nodding ever so slightly. He'd never heard it said before but could understand what just happened without any words being spoken. In the dominion of a Kami, Spirits drink first. He poured out two more cups, one for himself and one for Silas without saying a word, then put the pot down out of sight.

"Um... good afternoon Mr Yoshinobu. My name is Silas, this is my partner, Raiya. We're with Third-Eye, here to investigate some disappearances on behalf of the Arnoket family,"

As he spoke, trying his best to put names on the table as a defence, the knight's eyes couldn't help but wander. Behind the man they sat across, the sheathe of a katana hung on a wall. It was accompanied by a tanto, Baisho's version of a dagger, and its respective saya, but the katana itself, cold metal and curved blade, was nowhere to be found. The man smiled as he tracked Silas's eyes, and without even turning around, pointed to Silas's own blade on his hip.