For Senhime, today was to be a triumph, one of the highest points of her life. As she looked to her now-husband, Takehara Yukinojo, she should have been feeling elation. She was now Takehara Senhime, noble, married to the man she loved most in all of the world. Senhime made sure her face didn't show any emotion other than what she "should" be feeling at the moment, but internally, it was..nervousness? Anticipation? Really, who could blame her on her wedding day? Senhime smiled, smoothing out the elaborate kimono she wore, adjusting her jewelry. Feeling almost a bit bored with the ceremony, she whispered a joke in Yukinojo's ear, and they both shared a quiet chuckle. For anyone of common birth, her position was one of envy and inspiration, a true rags to riches story.<br/><br/>Behind the mask, Sen stayed cold. Senhime's eyes gazed around aimlessly, and Sen confirmed the positions of both Tsukitsuji and disguised Kamaitachi. The daimyo Nakamura sat in a corner apart from the festivities, but partook in the tea ceremony with a dignity befitting a war god given form. As Senhime picked up the tea, Sen's eyes confirmed the poison mixture in the liquid, a subtle purple coloring. Senhime was not a master poison-maker, so it had not been perfect, not like if Sen had truly given it her all. As the priest presiding over the rites raised the cup to his lips, so did Senhime, and she drank of it fully. Sen felt a brief twinge of fatigue, but it passed immediately - not only had Senhime taken the antidote, but Sen herself was resistant to multiple poisons. All around them, people fell asleep, some still sitting up, others falling over their neighbors. And beside her, Yukinojo fell on her as well. The antidote she had given him hadn't been strong enough, an intentionally amateur mistake. Senhime felt relief wash over her. Her beloved wouldn't need to see what happened next.<br/><br/>Sen was an assassin, an agent of Kamaitachi, known as "Thousand" to her comrades-in-arms. Her body count far exceeded that amount now. A trained killer, nothing mattered beyond her orders and the target. Taking a life was of no consequence to her, no conscience existed to weigh her down. There was only one loyalty, and that was to Lord Nakamura, Liege, Conqueror, God. He had given her a life after she had resigned herself to death, given her a family after hers had been taken from her. Nothing else mattered, and her own existence would never be confirmed to the world. But the mask she wore, Senhime, could not be that way. She was defined to not be that way. Senhime was a kind, loving individual, open to the subtleties and complications of life, a vibrant member of the court. It was this mask that allowed Sen to play at being a person, not a tool, and this same mask that had come to define so much of her life for these past few years. Even as Sen could taste the iron on her lips, omen of the blood that was to be spilled, the mask of Senhime held strong.<br/><br/>Around her, chaos erupted. The members of Tsukitsuji rose to attack, having imbibed the antidote beforehand. The first attempt on her liege's life was foiled, the tanto knocked out of the air before it could reach it's target. The Kamaitachi shinobi entered from behind screen doors, beneath the tatami mats, and from the crowd they had been blending into. Kimura Sho, the apothecary her husband had hired on, was leading the Tsukitsuji, flanked by a pale woman wielding what appeared to be bombs or orbs of some sort, and a swordsman. Sen had always suspected Sho, probably not his real name, of being more than an assassin undercover as an apothecary - a suspicion confirmed once again wasps, guided by some invisible force, took down a fellow Kamaitachi. She felt a ripple of energy, invisible to all, but something her Onmyodo senses were tuned to feel. He was using some art to control them, it seemed. Things were happening quickly, and an enemy was approaching her, quickly. She knew that the other Kamaitachi members were enough, but Senhime had a duty to her liege to fulfill. It was a small mercy that Yukinojo wasn't awake to see his plan become unraveled at the hand of the one he loved. And besides, no one else was better equipped to bring down someone with Sho's ability than her.<br/><br/>Senhime stood, gently pushing Yukinojo off of her, shedding the heavy, intricately embroidered outer kimono she wore, stepping forward clad in an exquisite kimono of seafoam green silk, a gift from her beloved. The mask still needed to be worn, and so Sen could not bring her full skills to bear, but Senhime was no defenseless damsel. She could wield the sword and bow as well as a trained warrior, and she was one of the most proficient Onmyoji in the land. It would need to be enough. Moving far quicker than normal for someone wearing a dress, Senhime took a paper tag from inside her sleeves, and threw it on Yukinojo. A golden barrier flashed into existence, then turned invisible. No stray kunai or bombs would harm him, not while she drew breath. The other Kamaitachi members didn't seem to pay her any mind, focusing on their enemies. As it should have been - Senhime was a somewhat competent noble, not their prodigy. She had a knife hidden in the folds of her kimono, and a poisoned needle disguised as a hairpin holding her bun together. Only for emergencies, of course. In addition to Senhime's usual near-bottomless supply of Onmyo paper tags, there was one trump card - a small scroll, held in the knotted bow of her kimono's sash, capable of nearly destroying any spirits and otherworldly forces. A gift from the daimyo, and one she was fully planning on utilizing today.<br/><br/>Traitorous witch, they called her. Sen exulted, and Senhime took a deep breath, both with anticipation, stepping forward to meet her opponents, with only a slip of paper in hand.