ғɪᴇʟᴅᴡᴏʀᴋ
ʜɪɢᴇᴋɪʀɪ & ᴅᴏᴜᴛᴀɴᴜᴋɪ ᴍᴀsᴀᴋᴜɴɪ
ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛɪᴏɴ: 19 : 03 : 43
For once, for possibly the first time, Doutanuki was somewhat thankful to be spared of a sparring session. Instead, he was gifted the innocuous privilege of tedious farm duty. Considering his designated partner, he believed he had dodged a bullet. Or, more appropriately, the fangs of a serpent. It was not intimidation he felt, per say ( no, he wouldn’t dare admit such a thing ), but, rather, a cautiousness. A desire to steer clear, if possible. His reputation? Doutanuki couldn’t care less. It was simply a baseless hunch that stabbed him in the gut when he meets that polite smile poised in neat white.
Then again, how can you trust a man with so many names?
“ Just— Don’t get in my way, got it ? “ He resists the urge to allow his voice to flutter, as a lurch in his stomach leaps bounds on initial greetings. Malintent bubbles in his throat, though he forces it down; a rare form of self-restraint. Doutanuki stumbles, briefly, as he speaks, though masks it behind discomfort as he leans down to retrieve his hoe from the crude rope looped at his hip. He doesn’t trust, he doesn’t allow closeness, familiarity is a commodity, not a necessity. “ As much as I hate this sorta work, I really don’t need some guy like you makin’ it worse. “ The dirt that sits underneath his soles shifts as he moves to make narrow furrows.
