Blood in Flame and Water

A Home of Our Own

A pure and unfiltered silence fell over the citizens of Mizūmi Village as two brightly dressed young men walked into the village entrance. They were rather odd; one individual was too bright in the face, and too happy for no apparent reason. The other was melancholic, perhaps enough to fit in, but his brightly colored half-an-half haori would sell him out in a heartbeat. He had a different kind of gloominess to him though, one of sadness and regret. The village however, reeked of defeat and fear.

The deeper the two men went, the further the noise faded. Composed mostly of whispers and shuffles, the chatter slowly started up again once the two men were gone. Sharing glances, the men and women of Mizūmi Village whispered their theories and worries. Some theorized that those two were sent from above to stop the death angel from killing anymore of them. Others believed the two men came to curse them for their negligence. A select few saw them as crooks sent by the angel as servants that could carry out its orders in the daylight, since the angel can only rule at night.
One thing was for certain to these villagers, and it was that those two men meant their lives were about to change.

Giyu and Rengoku walked side by side as they continued further into the massive village. The deeper they dived into their surroundings, the quieter and more depressing the area became. Houses usually in mint condition held up by their respective owners now decayed and collapsed due to negligence and abandonment. Their owners were not seen nor heard from, and the only evidence left of any occupation were splashes of blood and bodily matter left sprayed on the walls, ceiling and ground on the inside. Shoji doors were ripped of their paper panelling and hung off hinges which creaked as they swayed in a breeze that wasn't even there.

As the two highly trained individuals passed through, their ears could pick up the sound of shutters being slammed shut over windows as they passed dead silent and otherwise seemingly unoccupied homes. One after another, windows closed and doors were locked. The two men could feel multiple pairs of eyes piercing through them, their souls were under scrutiny of judgement and apprehension. It made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end under their uniforms.

Rengoku turned to Tomioka with his arms crossed, "What do you suppose we should do next, Tomioka-san? "
Giyu paused and glanced at Kyojuro, wondering if he actually wanted his advice. Kyojuro nodded with a smile, awaiting his answer. Tomioka hummed and tried to come up with something that didn't sound absolutely irrational, "We shouldn't investigate any deeper, the villagers might get more suspicious. Are there any agents stationed here? "
Rengoku cups his chin with his thumb and forefinger, "Possibly, though I would assume that if they are still alive, they would have contacted us by now. "

"I was just getting to that actually. " A voice said from both of the men's left.
Turning towards the feminine voice, bright fiery and clouded rainy eyes turned towards a woman dressed in a traditional summer yukata. One of the sleeves hung loosely to the side, and peach-blond hair fell over and covered the right half of the woman's face.
Rengoku turned towards the woman and tilted his head, "You are our informant? "

The woman nodded and gestured deeper into the dark alley she had walked out of with her chin, "Let's head to my house, I don't want to discuss what's been going on around here with so many people listening in. "
True to her word, multiple sounds of receding footsteps, harsh whispering, and slamming of window shutters follow. Tomioka and Rengoku share a flabbergasted look, one of complete shock.

Nodding to her, they quickly followed after her retreating form deeper into the village until they came across a quaint little neighborhood crammed into a corner of the village. Soon enough, they found themselves in a completely different part of the village, one that felt so much more inviting than the dreary welcome they were given when they first arrived. The woman from before waved them into a home, likely her own, and they followed after her inside. Walking inside through the front door, the faint smell of cinnamon and other spices wafted through the air and reached the noses of the two Hashira.