It was a cloudy night, but the full moon was out. The window was creaking open to Mr. Izanagi's Home in Zheradan City. He was preparing himself some ramen boiling over the stove. He went to check on it and saw it would be ready in a minute. He turned to go back to his study.
The candle was out.
Mr. Izanagi - poor old soul - froze in his shoes. All was dark, save for the moonlight that poured through the open window.
"Do you have a demon for me?," said a dark, brooding north Zheradani voice from that same spot. And at that same moment, a head tilted in from the open window, masked, and a lunar eye with a sidelong glance stared through the soul of the old man.
Mr. Izanagi shivered through his spine. He feared that only this man would take the job, a fear that overruled his satisfaction that he may also lay the worries of his demon to rest. He stuttered and said quickly, "Th.. The little th-thicket by... A-..arashi no Enkai!"
A cloud masked the light of the moon at that moment, and ... Mr. Izanagi was all alone.
Moments passed and The Lost Horseman - a Tara Oni who haunted the aforementioned lands - was laid to rest as a pitch-black blade that shone with golden runes and reflected a blue hum of the moon entered from behind him, through the core of his chest. He passed through the gateways of forgotten old as he saw his own eminence shed into a black powder that vanished into the air. And... he was no more.
The harbinger of the ways of ninpō glanced back to the full of the moon, and as moments passed, there appeared a shadow behind him. His ghostly eyes only darted to move where the presence was. It was gone in an instant, but it had left something behind.
"Hakari, I am down in Zheradan watching the next man that has been found, Jon Wang. Unfortunately, Drusilla has also found him, and is attempting to worm her words into him slowly. I will be watching Jon for a long while, and I may need your help -- especially if I decide to start specifically spying on Drusilla. Jon needs eyes on him at all times, as I suspect he will learn to hide from his family, and their own watchful gazes will not be enough. I can be found in and around the village of Sil Lum, but do not ask around for me; none know I am here-- With love, Elissril."
The letter recieved a drop of water upon it. It was then folded, and with such time and care it would seem to have been done by a masseuse who tailored his arts to paper. "Wang... Jon..." His voice muttered underneath his mask. There were two steps heard, and the figure danced into the southern song of the night...
_________________ "Even if the morrow is barren of promises Nothing shall forestall my return To become the dew that quenches the land To spare the sands, the seas, the skies I offer thee this silent sacrifice."
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