in moonlight we ride
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When the darkness envelops Kamui, the snowstorm brutally picking up to a full-blown blizzard and freezing everything in its path, the sun hidden behind the clouds and mountains of darkness billowing up from Yoshpet ominously, Okikurmi strides past the fire in his home nervously, pacing back and forth, back and forth.
The very notion of the pills of foggy residue seeping into the homeland of the warrior makes him sick, and the taste of bitterness is sharp on his tongue as he pauses in his pacing, turning to the side of his home opposite the door across the fire. Kotone, resting in the sheath normally at his hap, is placed carefully on top of his bedding with the pillow beneath its hilt, as though it is sleeping. Cautious to avoid making noise, lest he disturb the darkness outside and attract it into his home, Okikurmi wanders around the fire and sits beside the sword, never touching it, but only staring in utter silence.
The wind howls outside, and the snow falls so harshly in the storm that Okikurmi is nearly able to feel the rumble of the ground trembling underneath the snow drifts' weight. Shoulders hunched and chin squared, the man wonders if he is truly able to save the village that he holds dear - Kai and Lika and Kemu, and even the ever stern Samickle - but dismisses the thought as soon as it arrives. It passes like the wind through his home, threatening the fire and his very means of survival in the cold, barren land of Kamui.
Okikurmi shakes his head and stands, a calloused hand brushing over the hilt of the precious weapon beside him almost woefully, and takes it into his arms. Attaching the sheath to his belt at its rightful place, the Oina warrior heads back out into the blizzard and searches for demons to slaughter. For Kotone to glow silver, to save Wep'Keer, Okikurmi will gladly sell his soul to bloodlust.
A rebel warrior, he will save his ailing village, no matter the cost.
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A/N: C'mon guys, Ōkami needs more love.