Like a memory set adrift like bit of wood upon a stream, memories of a time long ago yet seemingly just beyond reach, Kasui flows into view clad like somone straight from the Meiji. Her voluminous oceanic blue hakama sway like waves about her legs as her zori-sandaled feet barely make a whisper upon the grass. The long topknot of a samurai flows down her back in an almost noble fasion as those midnight tresses ripple like liquid midnight. Left hand resting lightly upon th epommel of her clansword she pauses at the sight ahead of her and tilts he rhead to the side in abject curiosity...