<div class="floatleft">(http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j88/zavaelduauram/Minamoto_no_Yoritomo_by_el_grimlock_zpsf0915a81.jpg)</div>Oka-Roku Village accepted their latest protector's peculiarities because he was relatively harmless.  His tendency to stare off into space when he wasn't practicing, patrolling, or doing what they paid him for was worlds better than the vices of past ronin 'protectors', stories told when they thought he wasn't listening or wasn't near enough to hear.  Yoru was content to let them speculate and reminisce, so long as they paid his fees on time.  It discouraged them from forming more than a business attachment to him, which let him get up and go when news promised a worthy battle.<br/><br/>Sometimes he liked drinks with dinner, and in Oka-Roku that meant the sake house.  Yoru had come in early, placed his order, and had promptly drifted into half-awareness as he ate, largely ignoring the rest of the bar.  It was going to be another night much like any other, and he would be waiting some more... but then a voice raised over the crowd in song, and it ceased to be just another night.<br/><br/>Yoru's gaze focused after the first few bars of music, realizing that someone of Talent was in the village, and turned in his seat towards its owner.  For a time, he managed to lose himself in something other then the emptiness of life.  So distracted was he by her singing that he almost missed the woman's question.  Yoru rose to his feet in a slow, deliberate motion, sobering up.  "I am Yoru," he announced to the room, voice carrying clearly through the sake house as he approached, dutifully directing his eyes towards her own (and politely up and away from the ample bosom proffered by her immodest dress).  "Who do I have the honor of addressing tonight?"