The early morning was a haze to Tomoe, who had admittedly gone on something of a bender the night prior. He could've sworn that he had met a wolfman and crashed the house of some dude who owed his life to him, or something. As the Joyan opened his eyes, his gaze shifting from right to left on an off-white ceiling, he realized after minutes of being in a partial hangover-induced coma that he hadn't dreamt any of the scenario up. Truthfully, he had engaged in something of an awful display, showing his inner party animal to this humble village in the mountains. After remembering what he still had to do, he hopped off the bed he had crashed diagonally on hours prior to get some level of mediocre sleep from, and made his way to the kitchen.

Sitting there were Achak and Cameron, who immediately cast disapproving glares the Joyan's way. It was as if everything that they were denied everything that he was, and the warrior didn't feel an ounce of regret for it. For all the goodwill he had built with people all over Fiore, and for all the times he had stuck up for the little guy, it was all for naught when a single incident occurred that just so happened to be his fault. So what if he went a little bit overboard on the boozing?

“Yeah, yeah. I'll apologize for throwing a house party on Mary's lawn later, alright? But shit, she seemed to enjoy it more than I did. Girl knows how to groove.”, Tomoe finally broke the silence with defiant optimism, chuckling lowly at the image of Mary's stupid drunk duck dance at three in the morning.

It wasn't his fault for his blatant alcohol abuse, not even a little. Instead, it was the fault of those who stood by and let him get drunk for hours and hours. They were too scared to try to force him to stop, but also too ignorant to know the complex and deeply personal warrior ritual of getting absolutely hammered the night before an important battle was to begin.

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WC: 354/1275 [15% reduced]

Tomoe didn't think the battle was all that important, in all honesty; he simply wished to drink until his head gave out and then some. On the plus side, he had succeeded in doing so. He was a very happy man that night, reunited with his crippling booze addiction once again and with nobody strong enough to hold him back from going off the rails with it. On the negative side, however...

Either as a result of him still waking up or the room spinning and his head pounding like a drum from his newly discovered hangover, he couldn't come up with any negatives. He felt alive at the moment, and had committed to a resolve to this entire conflict while in horrible pain that no sword wound or S-rank disintegration magic could ever hope to match.

Hastily and with great concern, Achak and Cameron shot glances at one another before rushing Tomoe to get geared up and heading for the Werewolves' place of gathering. They discussed the potential dangers and ways that the mission could go wrong on the walk there, and something about retreating if things deviated to the worst possible result due to the incompetence of... somebody? Tomoe had tuned out ages ago, so it served as white noise. He ate junk food stored in his traveller's bag as he went, and drank lots of water as well. Those were apparently good ways to clear up a hangover in place of any actual remedies or medicine to alleviate the existential-ending banging in his head, so he decided that he would follow that advice.

Once they entered the vicinity of the Werewolves' camp, for some reason the only thought on Tomoe's mind was that he found it strange that despite being Werewolves, not a single one of them had ever left their beastly state. Wasn't that an oddity? None of the wild ones he'd ever seen had ever decided to revert to something less menacing. They could blend in and make things easier for themselves than ever before. They could even try to live among regular society and make something special out of it. How odd. The Joyan found it stupid and short-sighted, but questioned no more after Achak had stopped him in his tracks to point out their target.

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WC: 736/1275 [15% reduced]

Amarok stood proudly, commanding his subordinates around the camp with a dominating presence. It was the charisma of a dictator, ruling through power and fear rather than true respect. Tomoe could tell at a glance that this Amarok was the sort that would kill any who disobeyed or failed him so much as a single time, and the crimson cutthroat would have none of it. He grew more and more angry by the second watching the smug prick, and decided to go off script. Achak sputtered out some stupid and obvious advice like not to be fearful or seem weak around the tribe – those sorts of childish worries were far behind Tomoe at this stage. There was nothing to fear from a single one of the puppies masquerading as tough monsters.

“I'm here to kick the shit out of one whipped little mutt by the name of Amarok. Anyone seen him 'round here?”, Tomoe blurted out after brazenly walking into the camp, gesturing mockingly as if he had trouble seeing anything.

He was immediately 'apprehended' and brought before Amarok, where he echoed the same sort of sentiment almost word for word; the only reason it wasn't being that the hangover was starting to get to him and thus stuttered with his sentence as he finished. The combination of bold words mixed with what seemed to come off at first as hesitance made the entire pack, Amarok included, roar with laughter around him. This caused the Joyan to block his ears in fear of sending the evening bells to toll for him in his head. Once it finally died down and Tomoe's expression remained a strange duality of annoyance and comfort, Amarok crossed his arms and his expression grew serious.

“Very well then, boy. Seal your fate. We will show you exactly why humanity is weak.”, Amarok spouted, his entire pack forming a circle around the two as Tomoe drew his sword, who on his end of things seemed entirely neutral and unwavering towards the entire situation.

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WC: 1073/1275 [15% reduced]

With a howl from the imposing wolf, the fight was on. Amarok ran towards Tomoe with his claws outstretched and ready to tear the young and tiny morsel apart, when Tomoe rushed forward with a lunge to close the distance while avoiding the creature's swipes.

“Already seen ya for your true self. You ain't shit.”, Tomoe spoke lowly and with disappointment at the same time as a horizontal slash with the golden Kusanagi blade cut open Amarok's stomach.

The strike was severe enough to stagger the beast backwards in dire pain. In that moment it appeared as if Amarok was about to try something sneaky or call in his goons with some real old school coward tactics, but Tomoe's eagle eye for coward tactics as a practitioner of such things himself was having none of it. In another instant, the Joyan once more closed the gap and delivered a second slash to the same injured area on Amarok's body, cleaving the Werewolf clean in two within five seconds of their battle having started. The violent, rabid dog's body was in two pieces on the floor, with Tomoe grasping at his head and then looking defiantly out towards the beasts around him.

“That good enough for y'all? Can I go rest now, or do more of ya need sense carved in like that fine, upstanding gentleman?”

There was an unspoken agreement among the pack that Tomoe had shown himself the superior fighter beyond a shadow of a doubt. They nodded among each other, and everything was calm until Achak walked in. They were cautious about how this would play out, but nevertheless looked to Tomoe for advice. While commanding an army of Werewolves that smelled like wild feces definitely sounded appealing to Tomoe, he knew he wouldn't be getting paid if he tried anything here.

“It's your old leader, back because the recently departed Mr. Bisected back there was a dirty cheater whose mommy didn't love him enough when he was younger or some shit. Listen, all in a day's work, right? I need to go fill up on water and snacks and just lay down for a day, y'know?”, Tomoe blurted out all at once, losing his patience as the world grew more fuzzy from his previous night's misadventures and their lasting toll on him.

“You have my gratitude, Tomoe. Thank you for helping both the village and my tribe. We hope to see you aga-”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll swing by and get drunk again. I need to ram my face into a pillow right now, so I'll take my reward and go for now, thanks.”, Tomoe interrupted rudely, having no patience for the usual banter at the moment and instead desperately wanting his suffering to end.

After an exchange of currency, Tomoe was on his way back to the village for a rest well earned. He would throw another house party on Mary's lawn and not learn a single thing from the entire experience. Such was the man's life, and for the current moment, he wouldn't have it any other way.

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WC: 1275/1275 [15% reduced]