Here Came The Oni [Introduction]

Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank

A vast, cerulean sky with fluffy, porcelain white clouds and a bright, round sun glaring down into the atmosphere. It was the ideal "sunny day" you'd find in a magazine or painted on a canvas. But as bright as the star shone, chilly breezes kissed the cheeks of the men, women, and children who walked below that sky on this relatively cool afternoon.

Among those people ambled a rather tall, robed and hooded man who held a large walking stick with a array of adornments and markings. White toes wiggling free and blue locks even freer, he wore no shoes and let his long threads rest between his shoulders and on his back. Long silver earrings dangled from the lobule of his ears while ruby hues wandered from building to building. Truly, he did look quite foreign, wearing what he wore. But despite his appearance, he was quite comfortable and never felt troubled in his lack of footwear. In fact, he felt better without it. The cold stone or soft soil of Earthland was no stranger nor hazard to this brute.

With a shadow cast over his face from the sapphire hood, shielding him from the sun's blinding rays, no one would be able to see the twinkle in his eyes as he looked about the buildings in an absolute, unadulterated wonder. These sorts of experiences were always one of his favorites, never being here in Rose Garden. Frankly, he hadn't been to Fiore in general for at least a decade, he recalled. Other nations tended to be far more interesting.

Strolling through the bustling streets, he kept close to the center of the roads. That was, until ruby hues rolled over to a building reading "Silver Moon Inn," an inviting name, he deemed. Oyama paused before quietly making way over to their doors, letting his walking stick dematerialize into nothingness and fade away.

Swiftly, he opened the doors and stepped into the warm, cozy room. Or maybe warm and cozy weren't the words to describe it as it felt more restaurantesque than anything, having booths and tables and the smell of food or alcohol being prevalent. With those small things in mind, Oyama closed the door behind him and slid his hood from his head onto his shoulder, blue locks and ruby eyes now in clear view. "This is an inn. . . alright, I guess." he mumbled to himself, looking about for anyone who might come to greet him. It was early in the day, but he did want to secure a place to sleep night after knowing what chilly weather was to come.

Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank

As expected, Oyama was greeted with the face of a female stranger, who he assumed worked here judging by the way she would approach him. The much taller man peered down to the bowing woman, arms resting idly to his sides. Besides the smell of meat and bread, her scent of greenery was far more prevalent with her so close. She smells of weeds. . . he pondered, fond of the scent but puzzled in figuring out what exactly she smelled of. It was enough to peak his curiosity, at least.

Raising his right hand to his jaw, long digits stroked his chin with the opposite hand holding his waist. "Yeah, well, you guys are an inn, right? Beds and stuff? Can I get a room and. . ." his eyes looked past her, viewing the kitchen just ahead, "all the meat that you have. And no, I don't mean a lot of meat," his gaze returned to hers, "I mean all of it." he finished, reaching into the depths of his robe and pulling out a rather heavy bag full of jewels. Truthfully, he was ignorant to how business works and figured that as long as he paid for it, he could have most anything they offered. To an extensive degree, he lived by this creed.

When ruby hues fixed to the woman, he was able to appreciate her appearance in greater detail. A long, daisy dress, white hair, and pale skin. Infatuating! Having been so many places in his lifetime, never had he met a woman who screamed white so greatly. She stuck out like a sore thumb among every other object present in the room, spoke with honeyed words, and, like before, smelled of weeds. He wouldn't dare sniff again for a deeper, more detailed understanding of her scent.

Oyama exhaled softly, feeling the stiffness in his muscles now that he had stood still for a minute. Miles he's walked and many things he's felt, but the fatigue of those ventures left him feeling exhausted. His stomach rumbled and placed his left digits on his hidden belly, hungry now that he was teased with the scent of food.

Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank

Oyama was not surprised when the server before him look so puzzled after his demands, but remained adamant about his beliefs on business. The thought of the abundance of meat being stored teased, feeling that, despite what she had already said, there'd never be enough meat to satisfy him. His stomach would only continue to expand without any indication of it stopping.

With a heavy sigh, Oyama placed the heavy bag of jewels back into the depths of his shawl, looking back down at the much smaller broad, ". . .Very well. A pity." he grumbled, clearly disappointed by the rejection. He was so sure that if he could afford it, they'd serve their product and sell their services without a second thought. Judging from his past experiences, that was most often the case. Perhaps in smaller businesses, owners couldn't afford to say no to honest coin while more successful ones, such as this, he assumed, could? Oyama held no qualms for the woman or their restaurant, just raw disappointment.

The blue haired brute look as puzzled as she once did when she offered him a new kind of service. He expected to be given a spectrum of different meals he could purchase, or maybe special inn rooms, and with his mind wandering off into thoughts he shunned away, he pondered if she'd offer her body. The thought was lewd, indeed! But the scenario was no uncommon from the places and nations he's visited. He was no stranger to physical intimacy, especially among human women, and didn't hesitate to let his mind escape to such a scandalous place. But before he could of hoped to think of the details, ruby orbs drifted down to the smaller woman who struggled to tap his chest with her pale digits, then doing so.

The process she had initiated came and went over the course of a few moments, white light surrounding him and settling into normality, and like she said following that, he felt refreshed. Oyama struggled to decide whether to feel upset in being touched like that without his consent. Was he such an approachable guy? Perhaps the woman was very bold? The brute did not know and cared not to. He brushed aside the idea and followed her to his table, where he would seat himself and let his body sink back into the chair.

Oyama's ruby hues darted back over to the woman's, able to look at her in a better view. Quite beautiful she was, with such white, outstanding locks and pale, seemingly flawless skin. If anything, he wanted to pick her up and toss her up in the air like a parent did with their infant. A very strange desire he longed for.

Quietly, his lips began to move, "Miss, are you a human wizard, by chance?" he questioned. His curiosities simply wouldn't subside, having smelled her, viewed, and spoke to her.

Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank

Truthfully, Oyama longed to head to sleep in one of the inn rooms before lunch. He lacked the energy or desire to get as irritated as he would usually get if it were there. As refreshed as the waitress made him feel, his hot head would reduce to that of a level one, a much calmer sight. Still, how he yearned for a pile of greasy, crunchy bacon, a bottle of the hardest, most bitter rum, and a bouncy mattress to slumber on. He felt himself drift away in those fantasies before the waitress's honeyed words snapped him back to reality.

"Oh, erm. . ." Oyama snatched the menu from the table, holding it close to his face as his ruby hues would quickly descend down its content. What was he to order? Frankly, he had no idea what he was to choose. He was only familiar with a few dishes, but those were the kind he didn't like and would tend to avoid. Moments passed, but it all seemed like an eternity as he failed to find something he thought he'd enjoy. As the options trimmed down to nearly nothing, so did his patience. "Just. . ." he dropped the menu back down on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose, "get me whatever you think is good. Aye?" the brute droned, far too tired to get angry beyond a state of irritation.

Although exhausted, the blue haired man couldn't help but recall what she said just moments ago regarding her species and history of magic. A local healer, she mentioned? Not that it was an uncommon sight, but she fit his image of her perfectly; a small, innocent looking woman who used her magicks to heal and help others. Not that it was a bad image, but it was quite uninteresting. Regardless, she was beautiful. Human men and women were truly the epitome of beauty and power, despite what wicked creatures they usually turned out to be. The thought made him itch for those pleasant experiences he had with other foreign women and what activities they partook in.

A thousand lifetimes I'd exchange for that. . . there are probably other ways I could get it, though. But a good many are probably illegal here. . . and everywhere else. Or maybe I'm a thuggish brute in heat. I wouldn't put it past me. . . or any other male. A goldmine, this is. Such a pity, I am. . . I am indeed. he thought to himself, beginning to realize how inappropriate these thoughts were for what scenario he was in, nor did he seem to really feel too bad about it.

Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank

Only moments after he ordered did a brief pause come between them, the waitress then disappear in the now familiar white light. The kitchen seemed to be only a few steps away from his current location and deemed it unnecessary to use magic, if that’s what it was, to such an extent. Maybe it was common here? Fiore did have the most wizards out of every other nation on the continent, and it had been years since he was exposed to it at such an amount. Something to think about, he supposed.

Oyama slunk back into his seat once more, unsure of how long the wait would be for whatever dish she decided to serve him. Ten minutes? Twenty? The products on the menu seemed quite simple and didn’t look to take that long to make. But he hadn’t known the first thing about cooking besides throwing a few cuts of meat, some vegetables, and some spices into a pot and burning it until it was edible. With such a gross and tasteless history of his own home cooking, it seemed as if his tongue and the taste buds in between had grown numb to his terrible skills.

To his surprise, the waitress had returned to his table in no more than a minute, and following her arrival was the food. Fried chicken, steak, a variety of other poultry and pork dishes, some of which he couldn’t identify, rum and some vodka, side by side! The meat smelled of spice, and the alcohol giving off their powerful, strong scent. It was picture perfect. With wide, ruby eyes, Oyama paused to his unexpected serving before he could work up the sense to speak, ”My Gods. . . it’s. . . it’s. . .” he raised his head to face his waitress, a twinkle of pure, raw happiness in his orbs, ”perfect! This is what I’m talking about, aye, aye! You even brought rum and vodka. . .!” Oyama praised, nodding several times in approval. He felt as if he were about to shed tears with the stinging welling up behind his eyes.

Before the brute could dog down the feast, it would appear the waitress had not finished what she was trying to say. Ruby hues gazed at her pale face, unsure of what she wanted. He thought, he pondered, and couldn’t come to any other conclusion. ”Oooh. . . jealous of this spread, miss? A hungry man’s always willing to share if you’d care to sit down with him.” he offered, smiling weakly. Oh, how he wished she’d sit. With a meaty spread like this, and a beautiful, charming young lady to share it with, it’d be enough to satisfy any man. If anything, it would only fuel his lewd thoughts, although distracted at the moment.

Oyamatsumi ⌬ Black Rose ⌬ D-Rank

Oyama grinned. He was impressed with himself in actually getting the woman to eat with him, especially considering that she seemed to be working, or at least somewhat occupied. He didn’t know her schedule, nor the workings of the business, so he decided not to question it further. But ruby eyes returning to his meal, he wondered if the woman could actually consume such an unbalanced, unhealthy meal. Was this a challenge or was this a death wish? Would her heart explode with cholesterol or would it prove to be on par with his own? At this point, he let his imagine get ahead of him.

Thick brows would raise in surprise in the woman sitting next to him instead of seating herself on the opposite side. He would only watch her seat herself and quickly averted his gaze back to the spread when she was situated. In sitting side by side, shoulders grazing one another every so often, the scent of which he would smelled of weeds became much more prevalent and morphed into something more detailed and herbal. It became more pleasant, if anything.

Strangely enough, despite the glorious feast before him, Oyama struggled to begin feasting with an astonishingly appealing broad sitting so closely and smelling as delightful as she did, and despite their closeness, they exchanged no words. I’m afraid I’ll send her flying like a ball if I move too abruptly. . . she is quite petite. So, what should I say? Do? And this scent of hers, not as unpleasant as before. . . I should at least make eye contact with her, I suppose. It is only etiquette. So be it! he thought to himself, convinced that this silence was only leading to ruin! He turned to face her, only for her pure white eyes to meet his own. It was almost startling, but pushed him to wonder if she had been staring at him this entire time. Did she want to say something? Did she feel uncomfortable? Regardless of what it was, he was determined to break the ice. Softly, his lips returned to their toothy grin, ”So, white witch and local healer, aye? Live you days here in this town?” he began. Truly, he wasn’t quite sure what other topics to bring up besides any subject regarding her. While speaking, he began to unravel his silverware from its usual towel, sliding the woman her own.

Suddenly, Oyama couldn’t help but recall the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself. In the sudden realization, long fingers returned to the bridge of his nose to pinch it in frustration, ”Mercy. . . it appears I have forgotten to introduce myself.” his rubies returned to her white ones, ”My name is Oyamatsumi, but feel free to abbreviate it as you see fit. My my dear and humble apologies for failing to do this. . .” he briefly dipped his head, sighing. Despite this, his toothy grin was quick to return. ”And to whom do I own this fine, fine pleasure?”