[b]Kichirou, Ichiko Road to the Village[/b]

Ichiko turned at the sound of a voice. A young man with a mop of unkempt black hair was behind her a distance clad in a black kimono sporting grey accents. Her first thought was ninja for the colouring would blend nicely into the dark of night but the presence of daisho, the twin pairing of Katana and Wakizashi at his hip made the claim samurai or ronin for only those that ruled where allowed the honoured distinction of carrying those particular weapons. That meant a high birth.

Pausing, the lovely woman allowed the young man to catch up but took the precaution of changing the grip on the parasol's handle, preparing to draw the long straight blade hidden within. One never knew with ronin, some had long ago abandoned honour but this one did not yet have the haggard appearance befitting a ronin. Turning, she let herself be seen as she was seeing him and began idly turning her parasol.

As he approached she sensed something of the young man, something more than an abundance of qi. What that was she could not be certain. He could be anything, from a kitsune to a kensai, but she couldn't be specific. Whatever abilities the man possessed they were, for the moment, hidden to her. She considered readying an Ofudo scroll in defense but such could be determined as quite rude and if the boy was a local lord she did not wish to insult him. Samurai could be benevolent but they could also be cruel, even going so far as to test their blades on the innocent to determine their sharpness.

Bowing deferentially, Ichiko greeted the traveller.

"Greetings Honorable Samurai," she began, "I am Ichiko. May I be of service lord?"