SOUNDLESS were his footsteps, though poor was his temper. The night was dark enough to eat away with splendid teeth at every nameless corner and street, and it was the sort of thing that felt more like home now than even the most guiding breeze in Tosa. He carried that blanket of darkness with him willingly, and it didn’t take him long to find his target whilst shrouded in it.
That man was an annoying flicker of light within the dusk, anyway.
“Ryouma.” It came out like a curse, thick with anger and rife with a twisted delight at catching the man from behind. That was a name he’d never forget, no matter how many years pressed against the granite marker of his grave. “You... y’went and left me behind again! Always, always, never thinkin’ about the people ya leave behind... -- and this time ya had the guts to up and vanish without even sayin’ a word to our Master.”
A wooden, blunt edge pressed hard against the other’s spine. “Choose yer words carefully, now.”
— @renaissails