Musashi sauntered along the apparent hallway connecting...somewhere. Her gait steadier than before as the sellsword sank into her thoughts, for the first time in this little drunken adventure of hers.
After all, it was the first time in a while she had time to herself, to do some good old alcohol assisted contemplation.
It was hardly the first war she’d apparently be partaking in. Not that she knew who she was fighting, or what for. Thinking back, the lesser officer from before mentioned she’d be serving under Lieutenant Agatsuma, whomever that was. She knew not what kind of a rank a “lieutenant” was exactly, but it was bound to be higher than hers, given the mention of servitude.
But the name was much like hers - japanese. So they’d likely have something common at least, based on that little assumption.
But there was little reason to worry over commanding officers and their peculiarities now. Sellsword as she was, by nature she was used to fighting for whatever and whomever paid the most - though what exactly would she paid this time?
She’d just signed a paper and now she just found herself here, wherever this was. Whilst it was all kinds of irksome and the ronin worried for Hibiki, all she could do for now was rip and tear her way through with her swords all the way to the end.
Wherever end was.
“You lookin’ for gear, lass?” Snapping back to attention, Musashi blinked a time or two, finding herself at odds with a fully clad soldier standing guard next to an armory.
“Hum. What kind of gear do you have?” she began, attempting to steal glances into the armory itself past the man. “And for what kind of price?” An all important question it was, as she hadn’t a clue what kind of currency carried value here. She doubted her coins would do her much good. They hadn’t, in previous worlds like this.
“Price? You got a screw loose or somethin’? ‘s the barracks. We supply our soldiers here. We got guns ‘n armor. No roses though,” responded the man with a hearty, bellowing laugh echoing in the ill-occupied hallway.
Her eyebrow lowered a tad in disappointment. There were the damn guns again.
“Swords, blades, anything that cuts?” she interjected, her arms imitating a cutting motion once or twice for good measure. “Or lighter armour fitting for close quarters?”
“Swords, eh? We do have the Crucible sword here,” the man explained, pulling forth a huge, crimson red blade with more points than a sword should’ve ever had. Impractical, to say the least!
“Armor-wise, standard issue light armor, fit for a ghost! Here.” The man lifted a small crate and cast it across to Musashi.
Careful to protect the porcelain sake bottle, Musashi caught the crate staggering a few steps backward before stabilizing.
“Thanks, I guess,” the ronin chimed, staring at the gigantic red sword again. “Anything more… agile, sword-wise?” she inquired, “A pair, preferrably?” she quickly added as the quartermaster disappeared into the armory again.
“Here. Now get a move on,” the gruff grumbled as he held forth a pair of unfamiliar looking, single edged swords toward the woman. From a quick glance, the blade curved similarly to a katana toward end, though a portion of the blade was straight, rather tha ncurved.
“Yer lieutenant is already givin’ their speech,” the gruff grumbled, huffing further instructions still, “Get changed the next room over, ‘n get a move on.” with that, the man fell silent as a stone again, leaving the ronin to waddle to the next room over with her newly acquired loot.
-----
Shortly after, the ronin stepped out of the dressing room clad a skin-tight mesh-suit, armored boots, gloves and braces, a breastplate that literally covered her breasts and none of her abdomen, and shoulderpads.
The skintight suit was pearly white with green accents as whatever technology took care of protecting its wearer. The armor plates steel-grey and accented similarly.
The blades that hung from her hips were currently powered off, though she’d discovered that by pressing a button in the handle, their blades lit up green on the edges. Something Musashi knew little about, but that, for now, that was how they worked.
And so, her gaunt growing steadier by the minute the girl made her way toward the ceremony and her appointed commanding officer.
-----
“The name’s Lieutenant Zenitsu Agatsuma! ...and we are The Coming Storm!” he bellowed.
And that was what echoed into Musashi’s ears in the hallway before a massive echo of cheers and roars from whatever troops Agatsuma was rallying. Musashi herself remained in the hallway.
As the roars died down, Musashi shamelessly sauntered forward and out of the hallway, onto the courtyard. Before her she saw the troops, recently addressed by the lieutenant, and shortly after her eyes sought out the assumed lieutenant himself.
A blonde pretty boy - quite cute really - dressed in a traditional though clearly a bit teched up samurai armor, styled in yellow and green. Sort of like his hay-coloured hair.
Cute. She could eat him up. Not that she would but Musashi did love all things pretty.
Cutting through from the side, she marched into the front, even as the pretty boy began to spin on his heels.
“And w-who ar--”... Oo! A pretty girl~! Whatever slack yet remained in his spine was instantly wound out as his posture tightened. “And who’re you?” he asked, puffing his chest just a little. Couldn’t hurt to display this slick armor of his.
“My formal name? Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara no Harunobu. Still, it’s easier if you just call me Musashi,” the girl opened with a grin dancing across her visage. As she’d already closed the last of the gap between herself and her boytoy the prettyboy, her left arm lowered itself onto his shoulder.
T-the hell?! Zenitsu’s mind raced, only contested by how fast his heart was fluttering. Why the heck was this girl coming onto him so strongly?! - Not that he would complain, of course. Okay, ookay, look cool now. Just pose up and act commanding, right? RIGHT?!
“Want some sake?” she inquired, the ronin continuing to dominate and steer the conversation however she pleased. Now the porcelain bottle of sake pushed forward, sickeningly close to the boy’s lips already.
“M-maybe j-j-just a s--si-,” the boy stammered, right before he’d get hammered. Before his sentence could finish, the ronin unceremoniously pressed the cold porcelain onto his lips and poured straight into his unassuming mouth.
Of course, she wouldn’t be cruel and dump the whole bottle. But most certainly a shot, maybe two. Probably closer to two.
“Gchk!” Zenitsu coughed, biting his tongue hard as he forced the start of that sputtering cough to a halt! It wouldn’t do to spatter the sake all over the pretty lady - Musashi, was it? The liquid burned his tongue, even as he toiled to swallow the mouthful, only for it to burn on the way down. But it was a pleasant burn.
And of course, as strong alcohol was bound to do, it brought warmth to his core.
Satisfied with her efforts, Musashi took a step back. From what she’d observed of him in their short while together, he wouldn’t compare to her if they were to cross swords. And he most certainly was not the kind of assertive leadership figure that he was trying to portray himself as.
But he was a pretty-boy! So she’d keep the boytoy safe, if only for her own amusement. If whomever commanded this army had decided him to lead her - and the rest of this lot, who was she to contest? After all, they’d bestowed her with a lovely plaything to tease.
And she might as well protect his pretty face, while she was at it.
“Zenitsu. The name’s Zenitsu, and I’m a samurai,” he stated proudly. “I welcome you and your blades to the Coming Storm!” Ahhhh, he’d get to lead a group of pretty girls! His very own harem! Honestly, this was a dream come true, he’d really need to thank the Commander later!
“Well, if you’ll still have my swords, knowing I’m a sellsword of a ronin, then why not!” the swordswoman laughed as stuffed away the sake bottle. “You samurai lot oh so oft seem to find your issues with us,” she grinned.
This adventure was shaping up to be interesting.