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Modoka had a mind that rarely stayed on focused on the target thoughts he desired. Why, even now the simple open ended thought of what tomorrow would bring was derailed constantly by his own senses. He stared at the counter directly in front of him processing the sounds and smells of the bar. At first the merriment of the boy and his guards distracted him and his eyes darted to their respective corners to view them. He was about Modoka's age it seemed but stretched out and lean, he drank but was new to the experience, and something in his voice was too carefree for Modoka. His companions were large, serious faced, and stiff though agreeable. They didn't seem to have a very friendly relationship so either guards or instructors.

Yet another samurai entered the restaurant sitting down and ordering a surprise ramen dish. He either didn't care or enjoyed surprises, but the tone in his voice seemed apathetic so he must not be a picky eater. Modoka's eyes darted to him now taking in his full armor that reflected the dim lights like obsidian. The large helmet on the table, the hilts of his blades, and even the armor made modoka slightly wary that he was in the presence of a high ranking samurai, but he was too tired to be nervous.

The smell of ramen wafting from the kitchen filled his nostrils and he smiled at the savory scent of beef as he turned his gaze back to the bar. Another smell accompanied it and Modoka judged it to likely be pork in the other man's ramen. The odors mingled and caused his mouth to water but just before he could truly appreciate the flavors in the air the younger of the two samurai seemed to make his own introduction to both Modoka and the dark samurai.

The scratching sound of sliding glasses across the counter top came across the restaurant and Modoka held out his hand. Snatching the glass off of the counter top quickly he allowed the second glass to pass just behind the second past him to the second samurai. He turned and with a brief smile to his comrade raised the glass, "Appreciate it. Cheers." He tossed the glass back and set it back down onto the table gently and awaited the ramen that was soon to come. Even now the sounds of the final preparations could be heard and derailed his thoughts from the kind gentleman back to the food. He was so hungry he was beginning to feel faint. His stomach didn't seem to care much for the alcohol on the empty stomach either...

Now what the hell was this? A brand new sensation? No, Modoka had felt this before but he just had trouble recognizing it. Oh, it was pain. How Modoka had ever forgotten such a feeling was beyond him, and he looked downwards towards his abdomen (the source of pain) only to find the spear his father once held thrust through his chest. He looked to his father to see tears still streamed down his face but now he was smiling.

With trembling hands his father grabbed hold of the spear shaft and forced Modoka down to the ground flat on his back before stepping onto his chest and holding the spear shaft more like a flag pole. Modoka groaned in agony drowning out the first of his father's words but soon his father's voice grew louder as he stared off into the distance. "Listen to Chiyo, he'll prepare you for what's to come next. After that, seek out Akio."

"What?" Modoka asked, his sensibilities beginning to return to him and the strangeness of the very situation beginning to fully impact him. "Why are you doing this dad? What?.... What's going on?" His father looked down and held a finger to his lips to shush Modoka. A gust of freezing wind blew momentarily before the sun warmed Modoka up again.

As he reached for where the spear had pierced him his father whispered quietly, "I may have been too late. Can you hear them? I can't quite yet but," he paused and his eyes danced along the distant horizon searching. "I know they're coming. Can't you hear them? The hounds..."

A piercing howl tore through the wind and again his father looked down at him and Modoka met his father's gaze. "They are coming son. I will not be the father of a dead man so soon. You must be ready for them." Modoka was confused and annoyed by the whole event but then he saw it. Something so peculiar and strange it stole his attention away completely. How long had the cloud above his father... looked like a face?

The dreams of dying and mostly frozen men are tricky things to discern. Sometimes they dream of internal desires: pretty women, money and wealth, but most likely a nice warm beach given their circumstances. At other times their dreams are reflections of their own feelings, thoughts, and overall character. The most common things for freezing men to dream about are the same as the ones normal every day people dream about. Absolute nonsense.

Modoka was falling head first. He didn't remember how he had gotten into this predicament and it really didn't matter. He was bursting through clouds like a bullet trailing smoke from his feet momentarily before bursting on fire without actually burning. Looking straight down he realized he was so high he couldn't even see the ground he knew was expecting him. It was confusing, terrifying, and exhilarating. Perhaps most notable was that it made him feel warm and happy for some undefined reason.

"Hey brother!" Modoka quickly turned about in the air to see a much larger humanoid meteorite cruising beside him. "I don't suppose you have any ramen, or some sort of drink for the ride down do you? I didn't bring a snack and god only knows how long of a trip this is going to be! Hahahahahahahaha!" He roared as he seemed to propel downwards even faster than Modoka suddenly by nothing more than his own will power!

The rush of air from the behemoth's sudden acceleration tore at Modoka who began flailing his arms wildly in the air trying to maintain control. But the speed of his fall and the uncoordinated flailing of his arms sent him spiraling and careening about until he was free fall tumbling through the air. No control and no reason Modoka heard his own voice, "Well that's no good, I seem to have lost all control of the situation."

As shocked as he was to hear his own voice calm and smooth about the dire situation, he was even more shocked when he tumbled back to face downwards. The ground that had been absent only a second before hand was suddenly inches from his face and before comprehension there was sound. The crash of cymbals rang through out the air and Modoka found himself blinded by a cloud of... cinnamon? His tongue stuck out as though it were snowing and tasted the red cloud. It was definitely cinnamon.

"I could really use some coffee," he heard himself say, again leaving his conscious thoughts behind frozen by the sheer lack of sense.

Madoka walked the cold road in quiet contemplation considering the events of the day. His face was something of a mess from what he had just gone through in his trials for the samurai. A streak of dried blood was caked to his face running from his nose down around his lips and nearly down to his chin. His long hair was even partially frozen with clots of snow and ice from the battle he had been involved in. Beneath his cloak he bore bruises that would have swelled nice and proper if not for the frigid winds of the land he now served in. Despite all of this though, it had truly been a great day to be in his boots. Each numbing pain was a reminder of the ones who had failed to best him. His strained and sore muscles were merely signs of proper use.

Yes, he had done it. He had officially joined the samurai at last, and now as a young fledgling of the order he trudged through the streets. He had been told to go home and rest before his training would commence, but he wouldn't have it. He had finally done what he dreamed of for so long and there was only one thing to do. Relish the privileges of being within the order, even the simplest of them all such as walking about the complex. He had no idea what to do or where to go, but he was damn sure he wasn't going back to his home anytime soon."Hmmmm," he pondered to himself quietly, "I wonder which building I should venture into first. I need to get out of this cold before the shivers become a permanent thing. Although... the ladies might like that." A joke in poor taste, but seeing as no one was around he didn't care. Very little could dampen his spirits today. Least nothing he could possibly conceive at this moment. Then as if to tip his good move over the edge a passing samurai smiled and nodded at him.

"You might wanna go home and get yourself cleaned up comrade."

The samurai kept walking past but Modoka froze in his place. Comrade? God damn did it feel good to be spoken to like that. Maybe not as an equal yet, but he was being recognized my the samurai for his potential and it filled his eccentric ego. Turning about he called after the samurai, "Say I was looking for an inn to grab some food and wash up. Any recommendations?"

The samurai turned around and called back, "Keep going the way you're going and you'll see a sign with a four-armed samurai. It's called 'I four-blade it!'. A bad joke, but the inn keeper is friendly enough. Good luck!"