AlphaBlueWolf
Moonchaser
Mateo noticed Nikolai's speech going over their surroundings fell flat for a moment. As his eyes shifted to follow the boy's gaze, he saw Rai crouching to light the firewood with sparks of lightning. There was a time where Mateo would've been elated to see simple magic like that, but he'd seen more of Rai's expert wielding of lightning magic to know that he could do far more impressive things. But as he turned back to look at Nikolai's eyes, he could see the same excitement that he once held for simple magic. Maybe the kid was a magic enthusiast, or maybe he just didn't see many other types of magic. Probably both, as it was the City of Light. But Mateo couldn't shake some kind of feeling, so kind of familiarity in that look. 'Oh,' Mateo realized, 'He's me.'
The conversation continued along without any more surprises, until the other kid in the room did something more surprising. Mana seemed super excited about the idea of having a secret base to plot their move, despite not knowing at all what they were plotting. She sprouted her bat wings and travelled up the stairs that led to the loft, not touching the steps with her feet. Mateo's mouth gaped as her wings created a draft that blew his swoop of hair into his eyes. He brushed it out of his face as she came down the same when she got up. He was surprised, not because of the wings themselves, but because she'd popped them up out of nowhere and flown about, when they were with a person who might not accept spirits. She really needed to be careful about that, especially in this city. He could see Cora's fur had puffed up with surprise, his tail flicking irritably while his claws had slid out of their sheathes to hang on tighter to the little girl's clothes so that he didn't slip off his perch. Cora was trying to decide if he should go back to Mateo's shoulders. At least Mateo wasn't that unpredictable, even if he did transform into a towering beast when his emotions got too negative.
"Y-Yeah," Nikolai responded to Mana's question, his cheeks edged in pink, before Skyla chided the little girl over her usage of her wings and gave him a little talking to as well. "Y-You have wings?" He just asked, then shouted, "That's awesome! You can fly in the sky, right? Like one of the griffins! That's so cool!" Then his cheeks burned brighter as he realized he was bombarding Mana with his excitement and acting like a total child. "Uh, I mean, of course I'll keep it a secret. It wouldn't be good if Sebastian found out. He doesn't like spirits. He says they cause illnesses like his. And that they do the bidding of the Cabrera's." He proceeded to say, this time with a business-like tone to his voice, trying to conceal the childish excitement he let out a moment before. Mateo's first impression of the boy was that he was mature beyond his years, if not a little skittish. But now, he'd say that the boy did have a child-like side, that he tried to hide with a thick layer of maturity. Which, in turn, made Mateo wonder why he had to hide it. Why he couldn't just be a child. He had said he was only seven before. So, why did he have to act so mature? Was it because of this Sebastian?
"Oh, yeah." Though, before Mateo could really question the boy's words, he remembered Rai, and turned to his confused face. He'd made a home for himself on one of the couches, though he still looked relatively lost. "I suppose now we should be doing some filling in. It's a long story. Come on, let's all sit down."
Mateo guided the group towards the living room, dropping back with Mana and saying, "Be a little more careful, ok?", in a gentle voice. He didn't want to yell at the girl, and he knew it sucked to hide who you were. And he knew it wasn't fair to her at all. But in a world where not everyone accepted spirits, he just wanted his spirit friends to be safe. Nikolai took one of the one-seaters, the loner out of the group of friends and travel companions. That left another chair, and the couch that Rai was seated on. He helped Mana into a seat, then chose one for himself next to Rai, finding his comfort among his friends. Cora crawled down Mana's arm into her lap, tickling her cheek with his tail as he went. He seemed to laze in her lap, his eyes half closed as if he were settling down for a cat nap, but his ears were pricked to the conversation.
Meanwhile, while the group settled in and he began his tirade of the events the others had missed, Mateo split his mind in a way so that he could talk to both them and Serena at the same time. "Looks like he doesn't." He thought in his mind to her, amusement sparkling through in his thoughts at the little boy amazed by the demon wings and the prospect of Mana being able to fly. He remembered the look he had when he saw Rai doing the simplest magic, and then remembered seeing the same look in his eyes while he was watching Mana fly. Dios, he really was Mateo. "I'm not surprised though. If he's a Luminosan who's friends with a Cabrera, I'd expect him to be open to everything else. My family is thought of as worse compared to spirits here."
It was weird, but then again, he was used to splitting his mind. Or at least his nature was. The Cabrera's were often splitting their minds from their bodies, replacing their operator with savage intent. In the few instances he'd transformed, Mateo's consciousness made him see himself floating in a pool of sludge, while his bodies' eye tried to tear into whatever warm flesh it could find. Even when he was still him but fighting off a transformation, he sometimes saw the sludge pool at the recesses of his mind. It was an odd experience, one he tried to shut out most of the time for fear of vertigo. Whenever he remembered back on that experience, it gave him a churning stomach and an odd burning feeling like acid tearing into his flesh. However, he tried to use that in this scenario. To try to help him both explain things to Rai and keep an open line of communication with the death goddess.
Then his brained picked off a segment of what Serena said, her thoughts still echoing in his head in a strange void. "Wait, what do you mean by 'create'." He'd met Mana's father before. He didn't know who her mother was, but it seemed impossible that it could be Serena, given she had been away from her body for hundreds of years. But then again, Mana had said once that she was hundreds of years old, despite looking and acting like a kid. Unless that was just her playing pretend. So, did Serena mean the demons as a specific race? His thoughts were way too jumbled about this matter to get a theory straight.
With all of them finding places among the living room, Mateo broke into a full rant of everything they'd witnessed, Skyla interjecting at times to clarify her own parts of the story. Mateo started by explaining the whole story about Halazzi, how he'd basically brought him to the base of the mountain to tell him that he meant no harm to him, nor any Cabrera. 'It is no longer Lukia's will', he told them Halazzi had said that, though he didn't quite know what he meant, and he didn't explain much about it. He assumed that he meant about the Cabrera's, that the Lucero's had taken things too far, farther than Lukia warranted. Though he also brought up the point about why Lukia couldn't just appear to the Lucero's and tell them to knock it off. Even though they kept Ignis high on a pedestal, surely the words of their favored god would stop their lunacy. But there was still an execution going on, so apparently not. Besides, they didn't know exactly how gods worked, and if they had some kind of rule about interfering with mortal affairs, besides for giving a chosen warrior in the past a sword made out of pure light. But that wasn't even the worst part to explain yet, so rather than rambling on in circles trying to understand the work of gods, he moved on from their encounter with Halazzi. Though, he looked to Mana with a reassuring glance, and told her he wasn't all that bad, because she had been upset about all of it before they'd left. It was true. He had been nice for someone who, years and years ago, probably would've murdered a Cabrera on sight. Though he didn't tell her that.
He also mentioned Halazzi's last piece of advice to him, that the mountain would have some sort of significance in his journey, though he wouldn't reveal what that was exactly. But he knew he must be right, because of the pull towards the mountain. He didn't know how to explain it to the others. In the end, he settled on comparing it to a sweet melody that you couldn't turn away from. That was it. A melody that drew the Cabrera's to the mountain. Though he hadn't the faintest idea what that would all lead to. Nikolai chimed in for the first time, a skittish tone to his voice. He mentioned Emmerly, and how the girl basically grew up on the mountain. She would have these weird little moments where she stared up at the top of it. But she never explained any of that to him, not even how she survived so long all by herself, or that he thought she was by herself. That thought bummed Mateo out a bit. He thought he'd meet more of the family he'd never known before, but so far it just seemed to be the little girl who he might never meet, for in a week's time, they could fail their mission.
Mateo elected to leave majority of the Serena thing out of his explanations. Even though it was a little hard to leave out most of the details about being able to see and talk to the literal goddess of death. He didn't want the others to think he was gonna transform into the beast because of how crazy he sounded. But, like telling them about the curse, this stuff needed to be said because it could affect all of them. So, he told Rai and Mana about meeting Serena. About how she had appeared to him, not knowing that he could see her, and about how he could see and talk to her when no one else could. She was even here now, though they couldn't see her. Most of all, he told them about the pact he'd made with Serena, new news to Skyla. She would help him get rid of the curse, if the group couldn't figure it out now, while he would help return her to her body. It was something they needed to know, because it could very well affect all of them. Mateo was bound to his pact, bound to making Serena whole again, and the group was bound to him. They weren't bound to him in the sense of how he and Serena were now, but they were his travel companions. Like the curse, it was something that could very well split them apart. But they could discuss those implications later. Right now, they needed to get back to their business in Luminosa, which Mateo steered them back to, cutting off any questions they may have had and saving them for later, maybe after all of this was over.
And, at last, he came to the more relevant matters. Nikolai appearing from the chiseled-out tunnel in the wall, the boy eavesdropping on their conversation and finding out he was a Cabrera, and asking for help on a matter only a Cabrera would help with. Mateo dug out the flyer from his bag and spread it across the coffee table. The ugly picture stared back at him. A caged, black monster with pointed teeth and claws leaping out of the bars. Next to it, a figure in Ignis' mask, holding the Sword of Light over their head, readying a strike to put down the foul thing they'd captured. At the top, in fancy letters, were the words 'The Festival of Light'. Underneath those words, "Public Execution of Cabrera Beast". As if it were a fun little festivity, like dart throwing or bobbing for apples. It seemed like it would be the main procession of the festival, a way to honor their heritage by murdering a six-year-old.
"Yeah, six. They're going to kill a six-year-old. My family." He leaned his arms on his legs, palms up, and stared into his gloves. The back of his throat burned like acid as he explained this part. He couldn't meet any of their eyes. All of the other things he'd explained, he'd talked lightheartedly about. Or at least more lightheartedly than now. But this? It was just too much for the usual chipper Mateo. And he couldn't put himself together to act like that. It was like after Mika's death. He'd fought himself over and over again to remain positive, so to not trigger a transformation. But even though he acted like usual, he still wasn't the same as before. And now with this... it was just too much to act through. "Her name is Emmerly. Emmerly Cabrera. I don't know exactly what my relation to her is. I don't know if she's a sister, or a cousin, or even an aunt of mine. Hell, I've never even met her before. But it doesn't matter to me. I can't just stand by and watch them execute my family. Watch them execute a little girl for no reason. It's not right. None of this is right." There was a certain anger and bitterness in his tone that they'd never heard from him before. Suddenly, his open palms clenched into fists.
"I need to stop it from happening. Nikolai is friends with Emmerly, and he came to me with all of this. He has a lot of information we can work with. He knows basically all the ins and outs. He's told us that the Convocation has her locked up somewhere that's heavily guarded. And the only time that we'll have any chance is at the festival, when she's out in the open, during the execution. She'll be less guarded, and in a place that won't be swarming with the Convocation's full force. Granted, Nikolai's told us of a lot of the risks. And I mean a lot of them. There are a lot of people we'll have to look out for, with unique abilities and powers that cause problems we've never faced. But Nikolai can tell us of their weaknesses so we can make contingencies against them. The festival's in a week's time. Which means me and Nikolai got a week to plan. You all don't have to come. You don't have to risk yourselves." He looked around at each of them in turn. "But I have to."
"So, what do you think?" He said, turning his head towards Rai. "Are you guys with me?"
Aleph's shoulders jumped lightly as Castro tapped him to get his attention, the boy too focused on his amazing new arm to be aware of his surroundings. His head turned to the side as Castro handed him the book and, this time, he had two hands to receive it. Which didn't seem like a big deal, but it was to him. It was the little things that he could do again now that made him happy. Now, he could hold the book in one hand and write with the other. He could forego the awkward position with drawing, having to put the book on his crossed legs or the floor, for the nice crook his turned arm created. It was the little things.
He was slow in reading, slower than he had been in the past, because he was getting used to the euphoria of having two arms. And getting used to actually using two arms once again. He thought he'd made peace with it. Maybe it was frustrating, but he'd started to find work arounds for the things he could no longer do. Now it was like that all over again, finding work arounds for having two arms when he'd done things with one. So, he found that his posture became awkward. It wasn't just the use of two arms in general but getting used to the mechanical limb. He traced the page with his mechanical fingers and found that he couldn't feel the brush of paper. The texture of it. Sure, he could feel the thing move across the page, but there was nothing there to tell him what he was feeling. If he brushed his hand through the fluff of an animal, he would never be able to tell how fluffy it was with that hand, nor would he be able to feel the blades of grass beneath his palm or the dirt kissed skin of freshly picked vegetables. And forget about water. It wasn't that much of a disappointment, because he had a real arm to feel all that stuff and more. It would just take some getting used to. He needed to remember that it was still a lost arm. Nothing that he tried to replace it with would be the real deal. They could only get close to the shape and functionality of it with a prosthetic.
He brushed a hand along the words that Castro scratched out, starting a paragraph but scribbling it out and rewriting below it. He couldn't feel the charcoal of his pencil either, not even in such a concentrated area. Then he started focusing on the words he could read, and finding a smile on his face that he couldn't wipe off. Since they'd finished, it seemed like he was incapable of doing anything but smiling.
But now it was time to go home. He read the last few sentences over and over in slight disappointment. His first meeting with Castro had been.. strange. He'd been fighting a red head who wanted him dead, and then another red head had showed up, picked the kid up, and dropped him off in a shed away from the conflict. He had no idea what happened between that, and Rori coming back for him, but no one volunteered that answer. And he didn't ask, as upon meeting Castro again, he was getting his wish granted. Castro was gonna make him a replacement mechanical arm out of the dragon's scales, and slowly but surely the man let him help. And it was fun. Really fun. It'd possibly been the most fun he'd had in his life. Castro accepted his talents, called them amazing, and let him help with the process. It had been amazing. But the completion of the arm also meant the end of his time with Castro, a time that felt like he was a bird stepping out of his cage for the first time ever. There was such a sense of freedom and fun that came with this time, that he feared would get taken from him the second he was home. All the worries of his life came back. What would his father think? The last time he'd seen him, things hadn't gone well. He didn't know if there'd ever be a future in engineering and inventing for him, a future in this, because what would his father think of all this? Honestly, Aleph wasn't sure if he wanted to go home. Sure, he loved the clans, but they were so stifling. Each clan had their own lifestyle, and every warrior was meant to mold into that style, leaving no room for creativity. And certainly, no room for the things Aleph liked. Not just his interest in dragons, the things they slayed, but in the arts. And newly, in engineering.
He didn't want to leave that newfound paradise where he could escape all of his father's disappointments, the clan's staring and murmuring, and the disdain his interests caused. But he had to go home now. "Well, I did tell her Westshire. But really, my clan lives north of the city, in a big valley. Not many people really know about the clans, or how to get there. But we can start by going to Westshire and then heading north to go back home."
Below those words, Aleph added, "Thank you for helping me with this. Thank you for building me a new arm. It feels absolutely amazing to have an arm again. I didn't think it would happen, that finishing it would be something real instead of just a dream. But now it's finished and its real and it's amazing. I felt like when I lost it, everything started tearing apart. But now I can fix things, and it was because of you that I could. So, thank you."
And, after he handed off the book, Aleph's muscles quivered as his mechanical arm moved up. He put his fingers to his chin, feeling the cool metal, then moved them off and forward. Sign language for thank you. He'd only practiced with his real hand, and part of him wished that he had gone over it with the mechanical arm to correct anything wrong with the posture before conveying it to Castro, but it was important that he did it now. He needed to say those words, in his own language, however strange it was. He needed Castro to know how thankful he was, because it felt like the man had truly given him a new life and he didn't know how to really repay him. But he'd practiced that sign over and over again the first night he'd appeared, when the mold was cooling and Castro was asleep, and he was supposed to be asleep too. And he hoped that would be enough to convey it.
Leaving the Guard Barracks, Finch didn't see any signs of his stepfamily in the halls. Neither Lark nor her mother. He supposed he liked it that way. Things were always awkward between him and Natalie, the two of them apparently not knowing how to function as stepmother and stepson, and the real annoyance today was Lark. He didn't know what he'd do if he saw her, what with their little screaming match. Maybe they'd ignore each other, maybe Lark would try to pick a fight with him or his friends. She hadn't met Serana and Joker yet, and she'd probably be as thrilled as Peter about them. And if he could prolong their meeting, then he was happy neither of them showed up.
Finch led the group to the slums. He knew the way because usually he got stuck with any mission involving the slums. He'd recently flushed out a criminal from a hideout over here, getting scraped and cut as he chased the guy down. It wasn't one of his most graceful captures and he got a lot of flak from Peter and his crew about it, but he'd still gotten the arrest. And, of course, all the wounds had healed over the next morning, mysteriously yet predictable. But he couldn't linger on those usual questions because of Kiko's appearance. He knew how to get to the slums, and loosely knew his way around, but he didn't have the streets memorized, like the people who lived here would. The only route he had memorized was the way out. Which really meant he wouldn't know his way to the blacksmith's shop. He didn't even know the slums had a blacksmith shop.
As they entered into the slums, there was a heavy difference here than the rest of Ironshire. The air grew heavier and mustier, as if it were the unfiltered and dusty air of a long-forgotten storage closet. It gave Finch the ache to cough in the back of his throat that haunted him like a ghost everywhere they went in the dirty streets. He noticed the looks and the stares, but kept his chin held high. He'd gotten similar stares before, being so young for a guard, and people looking at him like he just couldn't cut it. All the time back at the barracks, with every misstep he took. Even the things he didn't think were missteps, like taking in Serana and Joker, were heavily scrutinized. That was his latest blunder to the guards around him. And to some people here, the images of the guards weren't comforting ones. He understood that, so he stuck out as much as his unusual friends. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword, the one Kiko gave him, to steady all those thoughts. No, he was meant to be a guard, and what he was doing now was what he believed was absolutely right. He promised himself that.
Joker started speaking, but Finch honestly couldn't process what he was saying as he noticed a presence behind him. His chest flared as air sucked in rapidly, his heart pumping, and the hair on the back of his neck rising like it always did when someone unexpectedly came behind him to alert him to a potential danger. He'd learned to sense those kinds of presences immediately while spirit slaying with his father, because if he didn't it could mean the end of his life. It was a large, imposing presence that made his muscles tense as the man breathed down their backs. Joker and Serana noticed it too, how unnerving the presence was. Finally, the presence spoke with a single question.
"Yes, actually, I guess you could say that." He said, turning around and regarding the tusked green man. This was coming from the guy who'd seen Joker as a kid who wanted to help, rather than some criminal, and wanted to verify just what intentions both of his soon to be friends had before righting them off as villains. Of course he wouldn't be afraid of this man. After all, he'd seen and fought much scarier creatures. And now that he turned towards him, he didn't seem all that imposing, in a scary sense. His body was huge with green muscular skin, two teeth protruding from his jaw and pointed ears to the side of his head, but he didn't at all scare him. In fact, Finch's face lit up at the sight of him, knowing he must be the orc they were going to see. It seems they'd gotten quite lucky to run into him on the streets. "We're actually looking for the blacksmith shop. Are you the orc who runs it?"
Now that Sebastian was gone and it was just Emmerly and Albert, the girl felt immediately more at ease. Well, as much at ease as you could feel locked up in a cage like some animal. Albert turned to her, crouching down so that he could be at eye level through the bars. Looking out from inside, it looked like Albert was the one trapped, but she knew that was hardly true. He seemed as free as he could ever be, but she was very wrong in that thinking.
Emmerly's mouth gaped as Albert promised her that he would get the cloak back, promising her help and reassurance. His hand reached through the bars, her eyes widening as he meant to pat her head. He recoiled his hand, and she instinctively recoiled from his touch as well. These people had hurt her, sneered at her through the bars. And the latest injury, the throbbing on her back due to Sebastian pushing her back against the bars of the cage. Even though Albert was nice to her, the trust she had for anyone who was associated with her capture was a thin and fickle thing.
Albert swore that help would come, and then he got up, spinning on his heels, and left the room. She wasn't at all sure it would, as the two other guards came in to watch her once more. She huddled at the back of the cage, looking down at her palms with fingers blackened at the tips and hooking into sharp claws. The black fuzz of her pelt that Albert gave her quivered within her grasp. She held onto it tightly, not letting it go. It was her one and only hope that she would be saved, the images of the sympathetic guard and her best friend flashing in her mind.
The girl looked suddenly surprised when she heard the words in English, breaking the illusion a little bit that she couldn't understand anything but draconic. She held that surprise again when she heard them in broken draconic, knowing it to be true what she thought she heard, and not a misunderstanding. She didn't expect mortals to be honest about what she'd accused them of. They never were, acting all sweet and innocent while continuing to discriminate and undermine spirits.
She leaned back against the wall she was chained to, tiredness reflected in her gaze. Even though she'd been asleep for several hours, her shoulders and body felt heavy, like a weight was pressed upon her. Maybe that was the aftereffects of battle, or maybe she was just tired about how things had gone for her. Captured yet again. Well, that was enough to make anyone laugh at her condition. And it just made her more tired. She thought things would get better after all that work she'd put in, but she was chained up yet again, uncertain about her future. Despite herself, words started slipping out of her mouth. She couldn't contain herself. She was so tired, and the way the elf talked before.... They were honest, something most mortals didn't have the heart to be. "[Why go after Ironshire? It's the capitol of this nation. Every decision they make in this city, every move, is mirrored across the nation. You want to make a change? Start by affecting Ironshire. Why not a bigger force? Have you really not guessed why? Because of you and that annoying human. That wasn't exactly the big plan, because of you mortals stepping in and changing things. Though I doubt such a plan going off now. Things would change after that. The mortals of Ironshire would be too focused on dragons for a while to suffer the attack that was supposed to come. Consider our plans thoroughly thwarted.]" A dry chuckle escaped her throat at that notion, full of sarcasm and cynicism.
"[As for our exact motives, you seem to know the true ugliness of mortals. I'm sure you can guess from there. Since you seem to think throwing down spirits in the dirt and walking all over them is survival. That's what this city thinks, and how the whole nation thinks. Now, maybe what you say is true. I did what I did for my own survival, because with the way mortals treat spirits, survival is a privilege rather than a right.]" She paused, looking between the two. "[Does that satisfy you?]"
The brown-haired boy took on an amused smile as the boy went into an ignorant rant about ghosts. It seemed he really just didn't know anything about spirits. He wasn't at all surprised. If he was from a farmer family, he wouldn't expect him to have the experience with spirits as they did. Though tanuki's did like to cause trouble by digging out crops and chomping down on them. Some mischievous spirits liked to harass farmers in that way. Maybe he was fooled by their disguises, into thinking they were animals and trying to shoo them off like a common rat.
He arched an eyebrow when the kid resolved to stop them from dispatching the spirit. He looked upon him like he was a cute kid playing pretend, amused and entertained, rather than taking his threats seriously. To him, there wasn't even a chance this kid could beat them. Two trained spirit slayers against one farmer boy. He wouldn't stand a chance, and he had full confidence their work would be unobstructed soon enough. "Aw, sis, look at him. He's cute."
The black-haired woman was less amused. She scanned him, working her eyes from his head, down to his toes, and up again. He did seem too armored for a farmer boy, but the armor was thin leather of a shoddy material, obviously not an official employee of any type of guard service. Not one of Ironshire's guards, you would know them from a mile away with their gaudy metal armaments. The hilt of his sword did look real. Not katana styled like their swords, but real enough to be a different style, another typical type of sword used by warriors. The hilt had a beautiful craft to it, and for all she knew the boy could really be carrying around a real sword, she did so at his age, Jirou as well, but it didn't matter if he had a sword or not. It was two against one. Not only that, but two trained warriors against a, probably, untrained little kid. She could imagine how any fight of brute strength would go against the three, and it would always end in their favor. The boy was only a slight nuisance to their job.
"Boy," She regarded him again, ignoring her partner, "It seems your completely ignorant to our job. To what our duty is. Have you ever been afraid of what lies in the dark? Well, there lays a world beyond ours. Beyond mortals lays the immortal creatures. Beings that have a natural link to the spirit world. Through this link they gain immortality, and immense power far above our own as mortals. We can harness magic, but the things these creatures can do, they are far above what you've seen of any magic wielding mortal. Whereas we have to unlock these powers through rigorous training, pushing our bodies to the limits and breaking them before we can gain even a fraction of that power, the immortal races are born to those powers. Given them as a birthright to unleash against the mortal and powerless."
"This is a spirit," She said, shoving out Aiko in front of her, so that Lloyd could see her full features. The ears that rounded to a furry point at the top of her head, the bushy tail hanging limply from her back. Her clawed hands and feet, and even the way the brown fur started to sprout above her knees and elbows, appearing out of nowhere in clusters like moss. A young girl now showing her true nature. The nature of what one could conceive as a monster. Though her face was still that of a child's, slightly tan with large, scared eyes. The woman acted as if she were not human, but her eyes reflected human consciousness. "They are not what you define as the remnants of the deceased. They are living, too living for their own good. They are the things you see in the dark, the monsters of your nightmares. There are many that are much worse than this. Werewolves, vampires, naga, kitsune and bakeneko are just a few races of spirits. This particular species is a tanuki spirit, one known for causing trouble and mischief for hardworking mortals. And this particular tanuki has quite the bounty on her head for crimes against the people of Ironshire, endangering their livelihoods."
The woman then gestured to Jirou with her katana, "My partner and I are what you would call spirit slayers. We track down the spirits who cause trouble for mortals and dispatch them so people like you can be free of worry. We train to have the strength to deal with the thieves, and murderers that the guard may not be able to deal with. The immortal races are hard to take down, you need to sever their connection to the spirit world before you can even take their lives, but we spend our lives controlling their numbers to make it safe for mortals who are given less by birthright. It is our sworn duty that we are acting out now."
"By all means this girl is not innocent." The woman said, remembering how the boy had seen her as just a child. That seemed to be one of his biggest hang ups about this. But any spirits who caused trouble for mortals needed to be dispatched, no matter how old they appeared. "She is a criminal as any other mortal is a criminal. We come after spirits who have bounties on their heads, who are known to cause trouble for mortals, which is a description she fits. Don't be fooled by her appearance either, boy. For spirits trick the eyes of mortals. And tanukis are well known as tricksters. She could very well be a hundred years old, a thousand even. You never know with these types. Even if she may look like a child, she is still a criminal, one that must be taken care of to ensure the safety of this city."
"Now that I've explained our purpose here, I don't see any need for you to continue your provocation. This is for your own protection, and for the protection of all the people of Ironshire. So kindly move along now." Her last words were spoken hard, holding a challenge to them while holding out her katana in front of her as if to bolster that challenge. Mess around any longer, and the boy would find out what spirit slayers were capable of. At least enough to scare him off. Their job was to harm spirits, not mortals, but she would give him a little incentive to run off if she had to. But she did not seem scared of his little challenge. By her words alone, she seemed to have seen worse terrors than some little boy picking a fight with them based on his own ignorance.
She was lucky the tanuki had no fight left in her, or else this boy's appearance here could've been a much bigger trouble for them. If she did have the strength to wriggle free, they could've very well lost their quarry with the distraction the boy provided. A fact that continued to irritate her, despite their being no real loss now. It was just the ignorance of the boy that troubled her. Now maybe he would mind his business when he saw a similar scene in the future. Or maybe his noble ignorance would continue until he was shaken off. She narrowed her eyes at him, her eyebrow arching up as if demanding his response, agitation within its quiver.