… the look of absolute, raging anger in Itto’s eyes as you lay there in front of him, blood oozing from the corners of your bruised lips, your body limp from the exhaustion and sore from the bruises that littered your body from head to toe. Itto was for the most part, calm, very calm. His breathing was heavy, his footsteps were so quiet you’d think that he almost wasn’t there. Outstretching his strong arm towards you, his fingers gently traced your beaten face. Anger boiled in his heart as raging screams started to echoe throughout the massive field you were in.
You were foolish enough to take a commission in regards to handling some treasure hoarders, underestimating their skills along the process. They caught you off guard in the dark of the night, stealing you away into their camp as they toyed with you, threatening to gut you like a fish as you begged them to set you free, that you wouldn’t go anywhere near them but the cruel men just weren’t having it.
He knew something bad was going to happen, that’s why he followed you. That’s why there’s red hot blood on the ground and his hair, that’s why there is the disgusting smell of gore on his weapon. The cries of the men fell on deaf ears as he swung his claymore like a madman, slicing through anything and anyone that dared to stand in his path. They ignored your pleas for mercy, why should he listen to theirs? He was going to teach these bastards a lesson, and they were going to pay with their lives. He made a mental note to be extra sweet towards you, to spoil you a bit more than usual once this was all said and done.
