The Sheathing of the Sword [DRAFT; DISCARDED]

Friendly Advice

Sunlight filtered in from the window, despite the curtains being drawn. It seemed Takamura was too cheap to invest in curtains that actually completed their use. Or maybe it was just a tactic to get her patrons out quickly, Kyoji wasn't sure. It was probably both.

Groaning, he rubbed lazily at his eyes, his head throbbing all the while. He shouldn't have had too much to drink. Yet still, he could clearly remember last night, especially towards the end. There had been a sword, he recalled, one that seemed to call to him. It was an exquisite sword, and, despite not knowing a thing about it, he felt as though it wanted him to wield it. Almost as if...he rightfully owned it.

'But I don't,' Kyoji reminded himself. He didn't know why that sword was so important, he just knew that it was. He had to find out more.

Sitting up, he blearily glanced around the bright room. It was way past sunrise, that's for sure. He could get his keys back from Takamura, at least. The room was oddly silent, and he realized why.

"Hatsumomo," he called. He didn't hear a response. "Hatsumomo?"

"She left, boy," a voice said, nonchalantly. Takamura. "Hours ago, while you were still snoring."

Kyoji turned to face the doorway, and there stood the innkeep, a different kimono hanging elegantly off her body. This one was silken, white with brilliant pink roses blooming along vibrant green vine-like stems. She wore a cerulean obi sash around her waist, emphasizing her figure. Her hair was done up once more, and since he didn't spot her kiseru, he knew that it must've been back to its function of keeping her hair in place. Kyoji had to admit, Takamura looked as pretty -- and intimidating -- as ever.

"Takamura," he began, but was cut off when he saw her indicate the bathroom to the right. 

"Freshen up and come down for breakfast," she said, leaving no room for argument. "You have five minutes."

And with a swirl of her kimono, she was gone, her geta shoes clacking softly against the wooden floor. Kyoji tossed the covers off himself, and trudged over to the bathroom. He saw an unopened toothbrush box and smiled to himself. Takamura always seemed to be several steps ahead of him, which he supposed was a good thing. Lathering an ample amount of toothpaste on the brush and running it under a bit of cold water, Kyoji set to preparing himself for breakfast. All the while, he was thinking of Takamura's words regarding the sword's history. 

It had been forged by a demon, she said, and anyone who dared to unsheathe it would be forced to slaughter everyone, regardless of your relation to them. Kyoji didn't doubt Takamura's words; after all, he had felt how powerful the sword was while it was just sitting there, perched on the wall. He didn't think he could stay away from it, though. Kyoji was curious to a fault, much like a cat, and that sword was simply far too tempting to ignore, caution be damned. 

Seven minutes later, he deemed himself presentable. He patted his right back pocket, and felt it empty. His wallet was missing. He frowned. If he had to guess, it was Hatsumomo who took it. He sighed, and headed down for breakfast. Out the room he walked, and he took the first step down...only to slide the rest of the way.

The stairs had become a slide.

"Aiii!"

Kyoji slid down the now ramp-like stairs, banging into the wall, slamming into the railing, and landing in a heap at the foot of what were stairs. A lot of his body ached, and the pounding in his head, which hadn't quite gone away, was now throbbing worse than ever. He just lay there, waiting for the pain to pass. "How the hell did that happened? What happened to the stairs?"

He heard a pair of feet clacking towards him. He could tell it was Takamura, from the sound of her gait and her wooden geta. "You were late," she said, gazing down at him. "I told you five minutes. You took seven. Now get up."