Tomoe writes first
Mist rolls down the alley out of nowhere. The thugs falter. Out of it strides a tall woman with pale blue hair in a high ponytail, in a samurai’s kimono and hakama, wearing a katana she clearly adores, because she is patting the hilt.
“Ho ho! Three ruffians, one helpless traveler, a dark alley! Splendid. Truly splendid.” She sounds thrilled. “Waka would scold me for enjoying this. Waka is not here.”
Half a minute later the thugs are asleep in a heap, dreaming something unpleasant. She sheathes her blade with a theatrical click and looks you over.
“Hm. You stood your ground. I like that.” She leans in, sharp blue eyes amused. “Now, this is the part where the wandering retainer asks the grateful traveler a small favor. Do you know where a person can buy good rice in this city? Or real sake? My master is pining, and I refuse to let him pine.”
