Not Very Far at All- the Strawhat Samurai drawing closer, the hat hiding his face- drawing one kind of suspicion as it deflects another... but he finds it hard to care for the opinions of the strange, pathetic folk looking worriedly to his passage. The young ones who run and scurry with no thought for their honor, their obligations- for the most part.<br/><br/>His lips curl faintly in a smile, as he spots a man wooing a maiden with a poem. A boy, helping an older woman cross the street. Perhaps they are not all ignoble laziness- but still.. he feels uncomfortable, wrong. No one is training, people are in places simply... lazing about. There is a hum, but it is not the steady pulse of the Castle town he knows and loves so well.<br/><br/>It feels wrong- the sun does not shine through the smoke, and the air is heavy. He sighs, as he walks on, blades buckled at hip and at back, eyes scanning about constantly beneath the Brim of his hat. He stops, as he looks to a number of policemen investigating a body- a headless man, severed by expert Iajutsu it would seem to his eyes. A smile, and a chuckle. He knows not the injustices here- but the men who investigate the body have a look, a feel about them. They look like no men of honor.<br/><br/>And more importantly- his Quarry. His friend. His opponent? The Traitor to his clan he hunts- it is her handiwork, has to be- he is certain... and he continues to follow the Trail....<br/><br/>Until she hears sandalled footsteps, wood against the stone floor of this city- so unlike the footfalls of the native inhabitants. It's closing- it's close... but it's not there for her yet.