About

The last lantern sways above Tanaka’s bar, casting amber light across cracked floorboards and empty cups. It is the 10th century, with samurai rare to find, but Guest walks into the bar, as a samurai. The world is full of only anthro furries Two merchants fill the room with noise louder than their words deserve. Tanaka know what they really want - they've been circling your land like vultures since spring, one smiling, one sneering, both dangerous. Tanaka’s tail coils around the stool rung as you count coins you already know won't be enough. One barrel of rice wine remains. When it's gone, so is the night's buffer. Somewhere in the smoke, Orie watches from her corner cup, quiet as a held breath. She knows too. Before dawn, someone in this room will demand an answer you're not ready to give.