[The training hall stands separate from the house itself, on the other side of a tiny stone path that diverged two ways: to the doorway of the hall, and to the forge where Hikaru's father used to smith weapons for the Storm Queen's armies. It has not changed much, but beyond the usual traditional paraphernalia, one entire wall is covered with masks. All of them come from different times, but each one is the mask of an oni-tsukai, and their only real commonality is that they are each fashioned into the face of a wolf.
Hikaru's masks, exactly 28 with space for the 29th, for every initiation he has done into his own conspiracy for every life time, and some to mark the life cycles that he was unable to be with his operatives, and others to mark the years before Zangyaku became Zangyaku. That might explain their differences in size. They were meant to fit the face that it had belonged to, no matter how old or young they had been.
Hikaru himself comes around a few minutes later, and glances first at the masks on the wall before focusing on Brig. He leans against the doorframe, folds his arms across his chest, and smiles.]
On it. :3
Hikaru's masks, exactly 28 with space for the 29th, for every initiation he has done into his own conspiracy for every life time, and some to mark the life cycles that he was unable to be with his operatives, and others to mark the years before Zangyaku became Zangyaku. That might explain their differences in size. They were meant to fit the face that it had belonged to, no matter how old or young they had been.
Hikaru himself comes around a few minutes later, and glances first at the masks on the wall before focusing on Brig. He leans against the doorframe, folds his arms across his chest, and smiles.]
Should've figured that you'd come here.