Wanted an excuse to write for the Nezumi Samurai setting without having a concrete plot yet. So, this is a substory following Jack "Hebi" Ishmael, the head of Ishmael PMC, one of the main characters of the setting. Arriving in a small town in Nara, he hears of a mouse using his name and is prompted to investigate further.

Text for those who don't want to download the file:

Another day, another report of stray weasels causing trouble. This small town was a long ways off, not generally a place that had to deal with heavy weasel conflict or the influx of foreigners. Close enough to the capital to be out of major trouble, but not close enough for them to be strategically important. Weasel conflicts never followed strict battle lines, so for all he knew, one of the warlords had burrowed in or made an encampment to try and get another foothold. Or could just be some bandits causing trouble.

Ishmael sighed, the large black-furred rat pulling out a small metal pipe and a lighter, packing in tobacco in a practiced motion before igniting the lighter with a flick of his fingers. He took a long draw before slowly exhaling, shaking his head. Expensive habit, especially in these lands, but it was a long trip out here, and any travel had a chance of running into hostile creatures, be it weasels, rats, mice, or perhaps something even more terrifying. He needed a little pick-me-up to keep him going once in a while.

“Did you see the fight yesterday, with that Ishmael character?” A female mouse spoke on the side of the street. Didn’t seem like it was towards him, but it certainly gave him pause.

“Eh?” Ishmael stopped walking, talking a look. A brownfur and redfur mouse, in floral kimonos, gossiping to each other. That had to be a new record, people talking about fights he was involved with before he even got there. Unless he was living in some sort of temporal anomaly, that wasn’t even possible.

“Yeah, he’s no samurai, but those troublemakers sure turned tail and ran. He’s an adorable thing, too~” The brownfur giggled lightly. Okay, they definitely weren’t talking about him. Someone else. A mouse? Ishmael certainly wasn’t a local name, right?

Ishmael sighed lightly, walking up slowly, looking down at the two. “Hey.”

They both yelped and looked up before the redfur huffed angrily. “Don’t scare people like that!”

“Apologies. Was hoping you would know more about this...Ishmael character, about what happened yesterday.”

The brownfur seemed a bit quiet, though that may have been because she couldn’t get a word in edgewise as the redfur continued to look at Ishmael suspiciously. “And why do you want to know, nanbanjin?”

Ishmael scoffed. “What? Rats aren’t allowed to be curious?”

“Ah, go back to your sake drinking, you-”

The brownfur put a hand on the redfur’s shoulder, letting out an exacerbated sigh and shaking her head. “Ah, will you think for two seconds? It’s not one of them, no nanbanjin sailor’s able to speak fluently in that deep voice~” She would giggle again.

Ishmael shook his head and looked away for a moment. “Dunno know about fluent. Know enough to get by.”

The redfur folded her arms. “So what are you here for, then?”

“Was hoping to take care of the weasel problem popping up in this place.”

“Wait, who let you be a samurai?”

Ishmael shrugged. “I don’t have the two swords. I’m no samurai. Just a warrior trying to make a living.” Ishmael gave a wary glance to the brownfur, who seemed to be eyeing him up at this point. He sighed, rubbing a hand behind his head. He must have looked so out of place. Towering over the mice, naginata on his back, attire that definitely looked closer to a Vietnam-era military outfit and pouches than the local outfits of the samurai. Not that there seemed to be many of those here. “Thought maybe this Ishmael might know something about the weasel situation.”

The brownfur smiled. “Well, it’s possible. The weasels come from the south when they do. Nobody’s ever seen very many of them, but they’ve definitely been after the farmers and foragers a lot.”

“And the samurai say they’ve got more pressing things to worry about!” The redfur was fuming again, stomping her foot. “Can you believe that?”

“They probably do.” Ishmael and the brownfur said in unison. “Eh?” Ishmael shook his head, eye ridge raising from underneath the eyepatch on his right eye. “So, what does this Ishmael look like, then?”

“Oh, oh!” The brownfur seemed almost excited. “He’s a tall redfur, determined, with that steely confidence in his gaze. Carries around a naginata, he wears a...very strange outfit, and has that faint hint of danger about him. You should’ve seen him when he took care of those troublemakers at the inn the other day. Kicked them right out of there, I don’t think they got a hit on him~” She took another look at Ishmael. “You know, he looks a lot like you, actually. But...small and red. Last I heard, he went to the south to escort a group of harvesters.”

The redfur shook her head. “You know Ishmael has no eyepatch, I’d say that’s a big difference.”

The brownfur shushed her and waved her hand.

“Oh, and the pointy ears this rat’s got!”

Ishmael put a hand to his side, ignoring the comments on his appearance as he looked away for a moment. “Huh. Yeah, that’s weird.”

The brownfur looked to him, concerned. “Something wrong?”

“I hope not.” Ishmael muttered.

“I just hope he hasn’t gotten himself into trouble.”

“Yeah.”

“You stay safe, too, you hear~?” The brownfur gave off what felt like...too friendly of a smile for Ishmael.

“Uh, yeah, sure thing. You two have a wonderful day.” Ishmael gave a moderate bow before walking off, shaking his head after a moment. She was acting a little strange, wasn’t she? He took another draw of that pipe, bringing life back to the smoldering embers in there as he headed south, looking around to see if he could spot this other ‘Ishmael’. Otherwise, well, he was looking for fresh weasel tracks, something to follow so he could drive them out. Once he was sure there was no one else around, he put out the pipe and got down to the ground to start sniffing them out. Soon enough, the smells went from faint to a burst of activity. A cluster of mice and weasel scents. A group of panicked mice emerged from the foliage, just about to scatter further when they saw Ishmael!

Ishmael stood up and stopped the lead mouse with an arm, without grabbing onto them. “Whoa, whoa, wait, I’m on your side. What’s going on?”

They would point behind them in a panic. “Weasels! At least four of them! Ishmael is in trouble, what do we-”

Ishmael looked at the group. Definitely foragers and harvesters, not combat specialists. “Stick together, get back to town, I’ll take care of them.” Ishmael ran that direction on all fours, gasping a little bit to catch his breath and standing up once he saw the group, currently harassing a redfur. The other Ishmael, he presumed.

The head weasel cackled, all of them dressed up in rudimentary armor. Almost certainly bandits or a small independent group. Not well armored enough to be a warlord’s troops, not destitute enough to be their conscripts. “Hehehe, lookit this little guy. You fight all right, ya know, but bad news, there’s four of us and one of you.”

‘Ishmael’ was backing away, trying to use the polearm’s range to keep them from truly circling around him. “Stay back, foul weasels! You know not who you mess with!”

“Tch, you ain’t foolin’ anybody. Some kid in over his head who took a dif’rent name. Boys, get him!”

“Hey.” Ishmael stepped forward, a heavy glare across his features as he approached the weasels.

“Haw? Look here, we got ourselves another hero, boys!” The other weasels cackled behind him as ‘Ishmael’ looked up with a stunned look on his face.

Ishmael sighed. “I’d say watch and learn, but I wouldn’t try and copy me. Just make sure not to let them sneak up on you, all right?” He looked to the weasels, raising his voice. “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size for once?”

“So, someone your size, then? You think that lil’ pointy stick is gonna save ya?”

Ishmael scoffed. “It’s a naginata, and I prefer not to use it to clean up garbage.”

“Cocky little shit! Get ‘im!”

The group moved to leap at Ishmael, who responded by ducking to the side, planting his feet and clotheslining one of the weasels in the belly. Ishmael’s eyes would dilate, his expression forming into a beastly snarl as he picked the staggered weasel up by the back and swung them towards the other weasels, who all dodged back before Ishmael threw the weasel in his grip at them, making a couple of them stumble back before quickly recovering their footing. “What the fuck?” One of the weasels responded to this in horror.

The lead weasel shook his head. “Ahh, don’t be cowards, get this fucker!”

Instead of leaping, the three weasels tried to circle around him. Ishmael grabbed one weasel by the arm, twisting it around his back as he got behind the weasel to put him between Ishmael and the other two before throwing him through the air at the other weasels, sending him tumbling along, separating the other two weasels for long enough for him to grab the other by the neck, slamming the back of their head down on top of the middle of the still recovering weasel on the ground, leaving them both coughing weakly as they lied there. The one he’d thrown first had recovered and attempted to charge him, which he responded to by whirling around with a solid punch on the nose, sending him to the ground before he grabbed them by the legs, swinging them around, hitting their spine against a nearby tree with a sickening crunch, stomping their face for good measure.

This show of force left the head weasel stumbling back in fear before he got his courage back through anger. “All right, die, you stupid fucking rat-!” He attempted to slash at Ishmael with his claws, teeth bared, ready to strike. Ishmael stood his ground, responding by leaning forward with a sharp punch to the chest, followed by another rapid set of jabs to the stomach, making the head weasel reel back before Ishmael clasped the weasel’s head harshly with both of his fists, leaping into the air with him, to which the weasel only responded with confused, panicked screaming before Ishmael came back down to the ground, impacting the weasel’s head onto his knee, sending them backwards onto the ground, limp.

Ishmael panted and growled, looking around as he slowly stood up from his kneeling position after that attack. No more, from the look of it. The four weasels were either motionless or lying on the ground, groaning weakly. “What the fuck, man, what is this guy?”

Ishmael’s eyes were slowly returning to a normal state, but his strangely sharp teeth were still bared, pointing at the group of them as he glared. “If I see any of you around here again, you’re getting run through, you got that?”

“Ah, y-yeah, we got it, we got it!” The two still conscious weasels quickly picked up the leader and the poor soul who had been smashed against a tree, running off into the distance.

“Tch. Surprised they didn’t just leave them there.” Ishmael shook his head, finally turning to get a good look at the guy who had the same name as his, or was apparently using it. A young redfurred mouse, though he certainly didn’t seem to have the confidence, the steely gaze that everyone else described. Right now, he looked to be a mix of terrified and amazed. He’d somehow managed a relatively similar outfit to Ishmael’s. Maybe he’d picked it up from a foreign merchant? Or possibly made it themselves.

“By the gods, that was amazing! Kind of horrifying, but...a terrifyingly brutal work of art!”

Ishmael waved a hand gently. “Tch, spare me the flattery. I’m more curious to know what you’re doing, going around using my name.”

“Huh?”

“Ishmael sure isn’t a native name.”

“You’re Ishmael?” ‘Ishmael’ looked up at him before kneeling down, bowing clear to the ground.

Ishmael just looked confused. “What are you doing? You’re higher up the social ladder than me.”

“I thought it was all just stories! About the foreign rat warrior, Ishmael!”

“Eh?”

“Hearing the stories is what inspired me to step up, to help protect the people here! We don’t get a lot of samurai around here.” ‘Ishmael’ sighed and got back to a normal kneeling position, still looking down at the ground. “We don’t get a lot of attention, so the little problems we do have build up a lot. We’re not even on one of the main roadways, so we hardly get any patrols, either.” He would look up at Ishmael. “But then I heard about you, and it really made me think, we don’t have to be in a clan, we don’t have to be samurai to do something about it! I figured I had the build for it and I’d start training, but...but...” ‘Ishmael’ trailed off, a sniff coming from him, then another, before he started sobbing. “But I’m uselesssss...!”

“Wha-?”

“First time I run into a weasel and I couldn’t do anything, they just toyed with me! I’m sorry I used the name, I’m not worthy of it, Ishmael-sama!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hold on. You’d never run into weasels before?”

‘Ishmael’ shook his head with a sniff. “Well, I mean, of course I’ve seen them. Never fought them before, though.”

Ishmael sighed heavily, slowly shaking his head. “And you’re beating yourself up for not being able to fight four of them. A bit harsh on yourself, isn’t it?”

“The...the leader was toying with me, one on one, before you got here. I’m useless, I should just...hang up the uniform.” ‘Ishmael’ starting bawling again before Ishmael kneeled down, putting a large hand on his smaller shoulder, a hand under his snout, making ‘Ishmael’ look at him through tear-filled eyes.

“Hey. You saved those harvesters, right?”

“W-w-well...I...did I?”

Ishmael smiled softly. “I saw them run off. They should be back in town now. I’d say you did.”

“But if you hadn’t shown up, I...I’d be...be...”

“Yet you stood up to them anyways. That’s the kind of fortitude that very few have.”

“R...really?” ‘Ishmael’ sniffed, tears still dripping out of his eyes a bit. “Y-you mean it?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to find those who have the spirit to fight, no matter how much training they have. I’ve seen those who train for years that break and run the moment they hit actual combat. You get some proper training in you, you’ll do just fine, kid.”

“I...I...then, I have a question. That means your...group, that ‘Ishmael PMC’ is real, too, right?”

Ishmael looked confused. “Yeah, it is. Why?”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I want to join up!” ‘Ishmael’ pumped a fist into the air as he said this quite eagerly.

Ishmael looked taken aback. “What? Whoa, wait a minute. Back up a step or six here.”

‘Ishmael’ sighed and looked back down at the ground. “O-oh, no, no, I get it.” He started sobbing again. “I’m not good enough to join up anywhere, am I?”

Ishmael recoiled as the redfur started bawling again. “Whoa, hey, hey, ah, come on, don’t start crying again. Sheesh.” Ishmael sighed. This guy fit right into that redfur stereotype. Emotions on his sleeve all the time. He put his arms on the mouse’s shoulders. “That’s not what I meant, I’m just saying, you’re a native here, I’m not. Just...think hard about it and consider your options here, you know? You’re young, you could get training from an actual clan or something, without the stigma of a group like mine. I’m a filthy foreign rat, don’t you know? I don’t think I’m getting into any of the clans. Not even sure if it’s the best idea for me, anyway.”

‘Ishmael’ chuckled. “Hey, if I had to choose people to fight for me you’d be on in a heartbeat, but I guess the clans must be blind, huh?”

“Tch, really are an impulsive one, huh? That works well in close combat...sometimes, not so much for life decisions. But, then, I can’t tell you what to do. You want to join up, you go ahead, I’m just saying think it over first-” Ishmael suddenly felt the smaller guy hug against him. “Eh?”

‘Ishmael’ sniffed as he held onto him for a moment. “Thank you for believing in me...uh...” He let go quickly, standing up and looking down sheepishly before looking back up. “Well, I’ll definitely give it some contemplation, but don’t be surprised if you see me again, sir.” He gave a peppy smile and a salute.

Ishmael got a slightly concerned look to his face as he stood up. “Yeah, sure thing, kid. You got a name? Can’t just keep calling you Ishmael.”

“Terumitsu, but, uh, I used to be a troublemaker. Another reason I took another name.”

Ishmael scoffed. “You’ll fight weasels, but you’re afraid of your name. Tch.”

“You’re right. No more of that for me, uh...hey, I still gotta apologize for using your name.”

Ishmael shrugged. “It’s fine, you didn’t know, and all-”

“No, no, I insist, here, I can buy you a drink or something.”

“I dunno if that’s...really...” Ishmael looked down at Terumitsu, who was looking up at him, ears lowered, giving him a wide-eyed stare. “Ahh, fine.”

“Yay!” Terumitsu squeaked out lightly.

Ishmael chuckled lightly as he started walking. “Here I was thinking someone was going around, using my name and starting bar fights or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard something about troublemakers at an inn.”

“Oh, that. Two blackfur rats were in there, being rowdy, harassing people, making a mess of everything. Everybody wanted them out but nobody seemed to be able to do anything about it.”

“Ah, those kinds of troublemakers, that think they can just do whatever they want.” Ishmael paused for a moment. “Wait, rats?”

“Yeah!”

“You fought rats and...all right.” Ishmael let himself chuckle a little. “That’s pretty good. Well, long as they don’t try it again, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve certainly done some dumb things, but...”

“Ah, we all have.”

“Exactly! Sheesh, you rile up one bee colony and-”

“Whoa, what?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Ishmael exhaled sharply. “Can only imagine what kind of mess that caused.”

“Yeah, so maybe don’t bring that up. Still kind of a sore spot.”

“Sheesh. I find the real characters, don’t I?” Ishmael muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. You sure I’ll be welcome?”

“You took care of the weasel problem, didn’t you?”

“Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?”

“I don’t know if they’re the only ones. They’re sneaky. They burrow, they hide, they camp, they stalk. Those guys back there, they were not the peak of weasel-kin. Not even close, but they could still be coordinating with somebody.” Ishmael walked back towards town, realizing he probably had a bit of weasel blood on his clothes and in his fur. Oh well.

Terumitsu shook his head a little bit. “I’m not sure why you didn’t just kill them, though.”

Ishmael exhaled slowly. “That’s a long story. I’ll just say I know from first-hand experience, not every weasel-kin is inherently evil. I mean, they took the effort to carry their friends off despite us being there.” He pulled out his pipe, refilling and lighting it before taking a heavy draw. “Certainly makes things a lot more complicated when you know things aren’t so black and white.”

“I see. I...I think.”

“Maybe you’ll have the same experience one day. Who knows? Though, there’s no guarantee they all survived that, anyways.” Ishmael looked to the street, noticing a group of four black-furred rats heading towards the same tavern they were.

“Hey! There he is!” One of them pointed at Terumitsu, they all wearing rather unkempt fatigues and looking rather angry.

“Tch. Friends of yours?” Ishmael asked lightly, glaring at the group of them.

“Ah, looks like the troublemakers I kicked out brought friends.” Terumitsu seemed prepared to fight, but the approaching group suddenly stopped, taking a look over Ishmael.

“Uh, ya know what, guys, I think we gotta get ready to depart, don’t you?” The apparent head of the group spoke out to the rest of his group in English, the rest nodding in agreement before the group scurried off.

Terumitsu looked up at Ishmael in awe, seeing the death glare he was giving to the group before it dissipated. “Man, they took one look at you and ran off.”

Ishmael scoffed lightly. “Bunch of cowards, huh? Couldn’t handle an actual fight.” He slowly sat down outside the tavern. He could get inside, but it would feel a bit cramped to him if he did. At least they had a couple of seats outside for someone his size.

“Not going inside?”

“Wouldn’t want to cause a scene. Besides, it’s a bit small for me.”

“Fair enough. So, what kind of drink do you like, anyways?”

“Hm?”

“Like, chilled, hot?”

Ishmael looked out to the skyline, the setting sun over the grass and trees. “Well, it is a nippy day and the sun is setting. Some hot sake and a good bowl of noodles or soup would be amazing.”

“Or a few?”

Ishmael let himself give a soft chuckle and a slight smile. “Heh. Yeah, or a few. I don’t want to impose if you’re buying.”

Terumitsu let himself laugh a bit. “Haha, nah, I took one look at you and knew what I was in for.”

“If you’re sure.” Ishmael couldn’t exactly complain. Finally a chance to relax. Though, with his appetite, he was trying just about every dish they had to offer, the large bowls they had for mice still a little bit small for him, but at least manageable.

Terumitsu had a slight look of worry across his features as the pile of empty bowls stacked up over time on Ishmael’s side of the table. At some point, he was using one of the bowls to drink the hot sake, if just because the cups for mice were rather small to him. One did not drink straight from the serving glass, even if he probably could. Terumitsu looked at him as he poured him another bowl of sake. “Sheesh, you weren’t kidding.”

“I warned you. This is normal for me. Especially after a fight. Oh!” Ishmael slid a card over to Terumitsu, across the table.

“Hm? What’s this?”

“Well, if you decide to join up, that gives you an idea where to find us. If not, well, I don’t give those out often.”

Terumitsu looked slightly confused, looking at the card. Thick cardstock, like a business card, not the generally more common, thinner paper. “Odd material...and strange choice of symbol.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t know if the orochi gives off the best vibe.”

“Hey, not every orochi is Yamata, all right? Something to keep in mind if you decide to work with me, it won’t be all mice. The orochi’s a little reminder that we take all types. If we judge as a group, rather than individually, we’re hardly any better than the ones attacking us, hm?” Ishmael gave Terumitsu a pat on the shoulder. “Something to think about.”

“I, uh...hmm...”

Ishmael lowered his voice. “Look, I’m not saying walk up to every weasel and say hello, we’re at war and all. Just keep in mind they’re not all murder machines.”

Terumitsu’s ears were lowered, looking quite confused.

Ishmael just smiled lightly. “Ah, don’t rile yourself up too much about it.”

Terumitsu shook his head lightly, brow furrowed. “It’s just weird to hear it from you, I thought you were-”

“That’s him, the weasel slayer!” A higher-pitched voice cut in.

“Haw?” Ishmael’s ears shot up, looking a bit stunned, his wide-eyed glance shooting towards the voice. A brownfur and redfur mouse in floral kimonos...wait, they looked familiar.

The redfur spoke up. “So you’re actually Ishmael, huh?”

“Tch-!” Ishmael’s teeth clenched as he looked to the two of them. “How did-?”

The brownfur giggled. “We took one good look at ‘Ishmael’ there and we knew who it was, silly.”

The redfur’s large ears swayed lightly. “Besides, nothing escapes these ears, hun.”

Ishmael groaned, his eyes narrowing. “We have quite the lack of formalities going, ladies. You don’t even know me. Hell, you haven’t even given me your names.”

“Oh, Narumi!” The brownfur managed excitedly.

“Kimiko.” The redfur smiled slyly.

Ishmael bowed lightly, even if he was seated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you two.”

“Oh, oh, let us join you two! Please?” Narumi squeaked out excitedly.

Ishmael held himself back from scowling a little bit. “Please, we were discussing important business.” His fingers drummed lightly on the table. That, and it was actually pretty quiet up until then.

Terumitsu looked at Ishmael, head cocked. “You all right, Ishmael?”

Kimiko huffed lightly. “Yeah, Ishmael, you going to just brush us off like that?”

Ishmael froze up, ears lowered. “You know, I just remembered, I have to check in on another weasel sighting.”

Kimiko smirked lightly. “Really? Where?”

“Er...in Nagato, so I really should-”

“Tch, Nagato is too far south, they haven’t had any weasel problems in years, not to mention they have a proper garrison there.”

Ishmael shook his head. Coming up with an excuse shouldn’t have to be this hard. “Weasels are tricky things, you never know. Besides, there was also a report from Mutsu.”

Narumi giggled. “What, you have a personal messenger?”

“Huh?”

Kimiko gave off a sly smirk. “No one’s getting messages from that far north unless they have an entourage trained to brave that.”

Ishmael scoffed and glared at Kimiko. “Tch, now hold on just a moment, you don’t know what resources I do or don’t have.”

“Oh, really? What clan you getting mice like that from, then?”

Ishmael shook his head quickly, his glare certainly not going anywhere. Anybody that was giving him information from up north weren’t mice. “I think you two are prying awfully deep.”

Kimiko continued her smug little smirk. “So, you don’t, then.”

Ishmael could hardly hold back a scowl now, teeth gritting again. “I never said anything either way!”

“You’re kinda cute when you’re floundering, Ishmael-chan~”

Ishmael stood up, shaking his head. “Look, I’m a filthy foreigner, a horrid giant of a rodent, now scram!” He spat out, not yelling, but words sharp as he gave a forceful wave of his paw.

“Aw...” Narumi giggled lightly, resting a paw lightly on Ishmael’s arm. “Sounds like someone needs some kind words~”

Ishmael looked genuinely baffled by this point. “Wh-wha...? I don’t understand either of you, you’re both crazy!” He rather suddenly moved to start running off, catching both of them off guard.

“Wha- Hey!” Kimiko yelled.

“Aw...come on...” Narumi looked down at the ground.

“See ya, Terumitsu-san!”

“W-wait a minute! Ishmael...!” Terumitsu started running after Ishmael as well.

“Not you, too! Bah.” Kimiko folded her arms as the two of them ran off.