Floral Fluffy (Feudal Japan Battle Royale)

Once upon a time in the middle of Japan in a very sunny and cloudless day, back yonder in era Feudal within the Sengoku Jidai, came the least Japanese of them all. Nanban people three were located within what was a village, and yet so unaware of one another, were obviously to war with one another. All drabbed in the traditional attire common to that land, and yet all of them had swords not German, nor Portuguese, nor Italian, but Japanese instead, and only just that, armaments Japanese with none of the Tanegashima blackpowder wares, but rather steel to cleave flesh with, and cloth-attire to shield themselves from nudity. That they are set to arrive into the town wherever they are, a rather respectable trade hub which is said to have passengers in the hundreds, with tenants to occupy every single buildings, mixed with that of actual housing as many trade common goods are trafficked through the area, or merely sold in pedaling stands.

Whomever so appears are all normal in that mundane being without supernatural traits, nor abilities, but just that, humans, after all, what kind of a world would host something as ridiculous as the likes of a foul high pitched harpie whose voice could beguile the masses and dizzy them into liking perfidious profane yodeling one would mistake for the soothing lullabies of singing? Nonetheless, that is the same and consistent for whomever would even trod as an existent being in the realm. All connected by the same need to kill, for the many local mobs wished to take over the area, and hired these said bloodthirsty warriors to accomplish their goals and rid the land of the other's influences. That unbenownst to them all, the nearest they can appear would be 100 meters from one another, and that ultimately they are to arrive in the village at the same time, conveniently missing any magistrates to actually stop the battle to occur.

Alexandre found himself descending a hill on his way back into the village from the forest. He was pretty sure the he agreed to some kind of fight to the death today at around this time, but he was absolutely sure that he had been paid to kill at least a couple of people that were to be here. The man took his time walking in a straight line, into and through the width of the village, attracting the attention of the short native people with all of the strangeness of an obvious foreigner who did not even speak the language of this land and yet physically he towered above these people. He found it odd that he found himself here donning their cloth and wielding their weapon but when he would fight it felt right in his hands and Alexandre felt that it belonged at his side.

He passed the first intersection of the road he was on but he crossed without much thought though he paused before he reached the second. The road directly in front of him was thinner than the ones to either side, a mere alley, though looking through Alexandre was able to see on to the water and the opposite shore. The road immediately in front, intersecting his path for a second time, seemed to be the main road of the village, or at least a main road. So he simply decided to wait for his prey to come across him as he waited there. Standing there, out of place, to speed up the process of being found. Other than that, the best he could do was simply wait and see if those who were to be here, those he was to kill, would actually turn up.

Contracted to bring the petty lives of two unwanted targets to an untimely cessation, Veronica had traversed throughout the surrounding landscape by boat towards the appointed rendezvous that had been assigned, which happened to be a rather mundane fishing village. Entering the villages border from the North after disembarking, Corvis had taken detailed notice of the pronounced compactness and diminutive size of the hamlet, taking the opportunity to attentively analyze the encompassing territory to construct a mental diagram of the potential battlefield in preparation for what was to come as she began the search for the designated targets.

The Assassin melded amongst the surrounding throngs with gray hair tied high into a ponytail, clad in a shortened kimono that ceased it's concealing nature at the thighs, extending into black leggings and waraji sandals, and brandishing twin kodachi blades across the lower portion of her back, making an effort to be a nuanced oddity amongst the normality. She was never one for conforming to the strictly traditional garb of the region, nor had she ever taken favor for wielding a single weapon, so she made due with what was available for the sake of the beneficial maneuverability, blatant simplicity, and the comfort that the attire offered.

Unlike the two, Americo's reasoning to pick the job was to sate the need of boredom probing unto the deepest nethers of his mind, coaxed a perfidy greatest unto dimensions spanning worlds of the unplucked grapevine saturated with the verb of 'fun'. Truly was he one to have been punctual, that his arrival came earliest and thus suited himself to a seat near the middlemost of the town, at the bustling market within a slightly South teahouse of only the exit/entry way singular that he embarked into. Though as he drank his last fill of tea, his equipment felt strange, foreign as the land he was in. For starters, instead of breeches, boots, tunic and a wide brimmed hat of his native Germany, he wore the apparel of the Orient. Hakama tightened with leg bindings fastened around his ankles gave it a puffy appearance similar to breeches, tabi socks, sandals, sleeveless Haori surcoat, obi sash around his Hakama, and finally an upper-wear robe-shirt tucked into his pants would've meant he would be all the more fitting in this land, had it not been that his blonde hair and Western face stuck him out more so than usual as a foreigner.

Fixing his Kodachi sword and Wakizashi sword, not worn both in one side each, but the Wakizashi underneath the Kodachi, both sheathed, he stood up from the chair he sat on and slapped a few money currency due to the tea, owed to the establishment, and stepped outside as he had noticed the traffic on his part was sparse. It was the fattest road of all where most walk through, and he had noticed that there were a few oddities on his part when first gracing the outside. The first was that this land, the people were REALLY short at this time period. They were all like little kids with squinty eyes. The second was them. When he had surveyed the area around him in a quick right to left glance, to his left he had spotted two people. One male whom had a superficial looking similarity to Lothar's appearance that is waiting in the literal middle of the plus shaped intersection a full block away, and the other was the woman whom was ahead of the Brazilian further North, easily noticeable to be Caucasian among the Japanese. Americo decided to step slightly back into the teahouse with wall being used to conceal most of his bulk and yet not his sight, nonchalantly as possible, as he withdrew his sword slowly. The rasp of the blade slowly humming out of the sheathe as he unveiled his Kodachi with his right hand.

Alexandre spotted one of the strange ones he was here for. The more flamboyantly out of place one, the female, was easily spied by the large man known as Alexandre. Ignoring that he was about to go and kill a woman, as such things had never mattered to him in the past, he was paused in his stride by the rasp of a blade behind him, off the distance and perhaps not even that, Alexandre mused to himself, considering the chattering people between he and the tea house from which the blade had been drawn. It led Alexandre to ignore it and press on toward the woman, moving through the shorter people of this land, pushing them aside if any happened to cross his path.

For the most part he simply waded through the people, making a show of forcing his way through people that refused to make room walking on like a man towering above the wave. Of course it wouldn't be a quick few strides to reach this woman, no, unfortunately their paths hadn't crossed at closer quarters as he would prefer his victims not see him coming from longer than the range of his weapon. In this case, his weapon was a single simple katana, a simple black sheath which momentarily concealed his katana hid a blade of spartan aesthetic. The woman appeared to have his single weapon was outnumbered by the sight of the two blades being brandished.

Provided he heard nothing that sounded like a sword or the sound of someone or something running up on him from any side, he pressed on to the woman that decided to stand out as he did. Nearly as soon as he began moving his left hand moved to grip the sheath that hung from his obi, and his right hand moved to grip the tsuka near the tsuba. Clearly in position to draw his weapon whenever he saw fit. He would continue his stride unless he was distracted by the noises of something running up behind him, or another drawing of a blade somewhere near him. In which case Alexandre would stop moving to reassess. Otherwise he would continue striding along with his hands in place up until he was standing a mere three meters away from her. Alexandre stood straight and tall at nearly two meters. He was smiling at her in his most practiced and seemingly sincere smiles. He had decided to give her a few moments if she would prefer to make the first move, but only a few moments.

Spoiler: