#slbp goemon

[daeva-agas]

Yep, those games! It's even worse in SLBP because they revealed Sakuya and Nobu are responsible for the Mitsuba massacre, (with Sakuya doing it because he's the son of the Iga leader and Nobu because they refused to share the secret of the dragon tears). Surprisingly, Nobu was okay with the Iga until Sakuya betrayed him for you, and I was surprised because Nobu route avoided the "I hate ninjas" cliche, and I was like: Is this a legend or what? Because this wasn't the first time I've seen this

Oh wow, Nightshade had that too. I thought it would be safe-ish because it was "Hideyoshi era" (even if I don't particularly like the Hideyoshi portrayal), but yeah. That is a major Dealbreaker for me, so I guess Nightshade is not gonna be for me then. Even if it doesn't actually happen on-screen, I still don't like the premise.

Anyway, yeah, "Oda invasion of Iga" is a historical fact, so it's like... him doing that is not wrong per se. It's just the "why" that's kind of hairy.

SLBP actually has this before, it's just not in Nobu's route because it doesn't suit the "Unification" theme of his storyline. It's kind of just a thing that happened, so it was mentioned in Saizo's route instead.

That "Oda invaded Iga" thing makes the timeline really weird because like... it happens 10 years ago in-game, but Nobu doesn't look like he's older than 30, so...? Did he do that as a teenager, right after his father died? This don't make sense, and SLBP writers are obviously just writing whatever and there's no editor to keep the timelines straight.

Anyway, I guess the Sakuya thing is maybe because that Bansenshukai and record of Iga insiders defecting exist? Or it's just gameplay mechanic (so that each clan/faction has at least one ninja) and the writers being "whatever" again.

The Sanada has Saizo and Jinpachi, Takeda has Big Sasuke, Uesugi has Hotaru, Tokugawa has Hanzo, Oda has Sakuya, Date has Genya, and Toyotomi has Goemon (kind of)

Honestly, I don't know why SLBP is running with that stupid trope in the main routes. I hated the Sakuya main route and sequel because of it, and it ends with Saku serving Shingen. I prefer the events because he's still there in Kiyosu. Like... why can't you just keep it that way? They can just make Honnouji happen in the sequel or something, and then Sakuya can leave without having a big brouhaha about Nobu hating Iga for the bajillionth time.

Main RouteS plural, because if you played Shima route, there's this guy called Ban Naganobu who is actually supposed to be an Oda ninja in legends/folkelore, but he's written to be this kinda weird guy who is off on his own. Like, is the idea of Nobu having a ninja vassal that willingly serves him without any trickery involved so offensive to you or what?

WOW I DIDN'T INTEND TO RANT AGAIN

Anyway yeah, if you still have questions feel free to ask again (hopefully I will answer with less ranting next time)

[little-lady-mimi]

Art by 柚@koiranmira ⊳ Narukami Kyoichiro of Samurai Love Ballad Party (SLBP) 👍 Permission granted

*DO NOT redistribute/reupload/repost, edit, or remove credits.

[otonymous]

Burnt Cake & Bitter Tea (SLBP Kyoichiro)

Description:  Jealousy and miscommunication make for a sweet confession from Kyoichiro Warnings:  None! Word Count:  1466 words (~7 mins of fluff) Author’s Notes:  This story is set in the time before Kyoichiro and his MC have fully solidified their relationship.  Hope you all enjoy this read! AO3:  Read here

Tagging: @duerme07: Here is the fic about Tsuki MC being a bad cook, as promised.  It would mean the world to me if you remember this story the next time you’re waiting in an obscenely long 7-Eleven checkout line 😆

@dear-mrs-otome: who I know appreciates Kyoichiro as much as I do!

Tagging other lovely readers: @fieryanmitsu, @suzi-q-uinn, @kitty-kat-ty, @friedchikyorice, @whalebubblez, @selenecrawford, @kitsune-mana, @azuchi-princess, @classy-mc

All characters & SLBP owned by Voltage Inc.

“What…is that?”

Kyoichiro slips his kiseru pipe from his obi, bringing up one end to prod at the charred mass before him.

“Castella.”  MC replies brightly, hoping his sharp eyes wouldn’t notice the increasingly firm set of her jaw.  “You liked it so much the last time we were at Kiyosu Castle, I thought I would make it for you.”

Kyoichiro blinks a few times in disbelief.  

“Yes, well, that was indeed castella and edible.  This looks like something that’s destined for the garbage heap.  Please, do us both a favour and don’t overexert yourself by experimenting in the kitchen.  Not everyone has the good fortune to have a cook capable of making European sweets like Lord Nobunaga.”

MC’s eye twitches at his mention of her.  “You’re not even going to try it?”

“I think not.  Isn’t it enough that I already eat your Nanban Reuri?   Even you couldn’t whip up a stomach remedy strong enough to deal with the aftermath of eating that.”

“Fine.”  

MC moves to snatch the plate from beneath Kyoichiro’s scrutinizing gaze, sliding the shoji doors shut behind her with such force the walls tremble.

“Hey!  You’re liable for any damages if you tear the house down!”  

His voice chases after her receding footsteps, stomping towards the kitchen, before he wonders aloud to no one in particular, “What in the world has gotten into her?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC scrapes the fruit of her misguided labour into the trash, embarrassment blooming in crimson shades on her cheeks.  Why did she have to throw a fit in front of Kyoichiro and behave like a petulant child who didn’t get her way?  Certainly, if she was trying to gain his affections and get him to notice her the way he noticed Lord Nobunaga’s beautiful cook, this was the wrong way to go about it.

Thoughts of their last trip to Kiyosu Castle swirl about her head as she bends over the wash basin, absentmindedly running her hands over the dirty dishes.  Lord Nobunaga’s cook was young, beautiful and female, looking fresh as a flower in spring when she breezed into the main hall to serve tea and the castella she was so adept at making.  From the way Nobunaga gazed at her, it was clear that she was held in much higher esteem than a mere cook in her lord’s heart and mind.  That much was expected.

What wasn’t expected was the way Kyoichiro’s eyes followed her every move.

“Jerk!  I hope you get captured by Iga!”  

A tidal wave of soapy water spills onto the floor as MC’s fists pound the surface of the grimy pool.  And in her mind, she knows she is being silly, but all the same, the tight coil of anger in her gut starts to unwind as she sets about cleaning up the mess, sheepishly muttering,

“Just kidding.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ishikawa Goemon made his rounds at lightning speed that night, having another mission lined up after his usual house calls.  An exhausted Raita dragged his feet home before surrendering and falling asleep on the tatami in the middle of the room.  Kyoichiro carefully picked up the recumbent fox and tucked him into bed before creeping off to MC’s room, still donning the disguise of his alter ego.

For the past few days, she had locked herself away in her chambers immediately after supper, not emerging until serving breakfast the next morning.  Days at the shop weren’t much better either, with her keeping their interactions to the bare minimum needed to run the business.  As much as Kyoichiro hated to admit it, her cold shoulder treatment was slowly but surely killing him.  Clearly, something was wrong, but he had no idea as to what and she refused to divulge her reasons when questioned.  Tonight, however, he was determined to find out.  

Kyoichiro had stalked past her room on previous evenings when he noticed her lantern lit long after the time she should have been asleep.  Pressing his ear to the door, he heard the faint mumbling of her voice amidst the sounds of brush on paper.  “What is she doing?” He had wondered, suddenly concerned that her drastic change in behaviour was related to these novel nocturnal activities.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he discovered from his hiding spot in the ceiling.

“So what if I’m bad at cooking?  No one ever died from eating bland, unevenly chopped food that may be slightly overcooked.  You know what people DO die of?  Not having the right medicine on hand — THAT will do you in!  Sorry if I can’t cook.  Guess I’ll just have to make up for it by saving some lives then, stupid Kyoichiro!”

He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to suppress the laughter that would have given him away had MC not been so absorbed in her journalling, slowly voicing her thoughts as her brush flew up and down the page.  Kyoichiro mentally chastises himself, thinking he could no longer afford to point out her inadequacies as a shinobi without being hypocritical.

“I bet if I were beautiful and sophisticated like Lord Nobunaga’s cook from Kyoto, he would’ve crammed the entire castella cake into his mouth without a second thought, burnt or not.  Can it be helped that my fate dictated that I be born not only a shinobi, but a fugitive one at that?  I am a country bumpkin by necessity!  What I wouldn’t have given to poke his eyes back into their sockets.  With the way he stared at her, I’m sure all types of lewd thoughts ran through his mind…”

“Oh, for the love of all the gods…the bumpkin’s got it all wrong!”  Kyoichiro sighs inwardly, the situation finally dawning on him.  Admittedly, he had been completely enamoured during their audience with Nobunaga, but the object of his affection was not the lord’s cook, but rather the tea caddy that never left her side.  

Lord Nobunaga had been testing him that day, ostentatiously serving them tea and castella as a superficial token of gratitude for the rare European clock Kyoichiro presented him with.  Though unassuming in its appearance, the Tsukumonasu tea caddy was a priceless treasure that daimyos would readily part from their domains for, and only true experts would be able to recognize its worth at a glance.  

Kyoichiro had heard talk that Nobunaga was starting to utilize prized teaware in his diplomatic negotiations.  If he was truly a merchant of worth, Kyoichiro would prove indispensable in helping Nobunaga amass his collection, given his extensive travels and contacts with other wealthy merchants and lords.  To that end, the daimyo of Owari kept his sharp eyes trained on Kyoichiro, seeking not only his recognition of the Tsukumonasu tea caddy, but also the merchant’s receptivity to be complicit in his plan.

Caught up in calculating the risks and benefits of the proposition, Kyoichiro hadn’t noticed MC’s increasingly sullen expression as she watched bite after bite of castella disappear past his lips.    

Finally slipping from MC’s room in the early morning hours, Ishikawa Goemon heaves a heavy sigh as he pulls on Kyoichiro’s robes.  He makes his way to the kitchen, anxiously rehearsing the lines he knows he will have to recite when dawn comes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my travels, I think I really prefer country bumpkins to big city girls.”

MC’s hand flies up to cover her mouth as she almost spits out her breakfast, the other reaching for her tea to chase down errant grains of rice in her throat.  She levels her eyes at Kyoichiro, who continues to talk without ever meeting her gaze, a gentle shade of pink suffusing his cheeks as his chopsticks dip gracefully in and out of his bowl.

“If anyone were to ask, I’d say those country girls are handier to have around.  Sure, they may not know much about the latest fashions or how to properly apply rouge, but they’ve probably had to do everything themselves, lacking the conveniences of living in a city.”

“Since you are of the opinion that I have half a brain, please kindly enlighten me as to where exactly you are going with this?”  MC says, brows furrowed in suspicion as she moves to set down her bowl and chopsticks.

Kyoichiro follows suit before reaching a hand down to retrieve a plate from beneath the table.  He finally meets her gaze as he slides it in her direction, sheepishly saying: “I would rather live to eat another day’s worth of burnt food than die without your medicine.”

MC looks at the peace offering, feeling ridiculously happy at the sight of the castella Kyoichiro made with his own hands, just as misshapenly charred as the one she had baked for him days ago.  

Thanks for reading!  More stories available here! 💖

[miminorenai]

“Talking until morning? Tho it seems you’ll sleep any time now?” “Come on, *cover your stomach properly and let’s just sleep early.”

(*use blanket so that could avoid cold 

[thesassyscribbler]

Shadow End, KYOICHIRO Main Story, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY © Voltage

ME:

[samurailoveballadhistory]

This is an example of “archaic spelling” in use. In modern language "Nanban reuri” 南蛮れうり would be written as “Nanban ryouri” 南蛮料理, literally meaning “Barbarian/Foreign cooking”. 

In archaic spelling, “you” よう sounds are written as “eu” えう. An example from Matsuo Bashou’s haiku:

吉野にて桜見せうぞ檜木笠   Yoshino nite / sakura mishou zo / hinoki-gasa

In the modern reading provided, the words are rendered as “mishou”, but in the actual poem transcript it’s written as “miseu”. 

I’m not sure if the writers wrote it this way on purpose or not, because I almost never see anything else in the game done this way (for example, in archaic spelling Ieyasu is Iyeyasu instead). It seems that because this is the spelling used to refer to “Japanese-style adaptation of foreign cooking” down through the ages, and perhaps even recorded as such in national heritage accounts, sometimes even modern people still say “Nanban reuri” instead of the modernized “Nanban ryouri”. 

According to what I read, this spelling is still in use in the Taisho era. In "Chou'u”, a story written in 1948, “hyoutan” 瓢箪 (bottle gourds, like what you see in Hideyoshi’s castle items) is given the reading “heutan” へうたん in hiragana. 

[masamubae]

2am at night and I thought lemme google was Ishikawa Goemon stuff and understand more for SLBP and Kyoichiro and I snickered so much because Saizo's face just like smirking at me like I'm some sort of idiot, mind you I am it was 2am, but still

[voltageslbp]

At last, the ninjas you've long been waiting to meet...

Hotaru and Kyoichiro's Act 1 stories are coming soon! But remember, you'll have to finish one of the 12 original lords' stories first, so get ready!

[rubyleeray]

So I know we are getting a Sexpilogue tomorrow, but I couldn’t resist posting this beforehand because I have had this sitting in my WIPs folder for a while, just collecting dust! If tomorrow’s epilogue makes it OOC then I’m sorry but there is a serious lack of Kyoichiro smut and I had a lot of fun writing this!

Please enjoy this Kyoichiro fluff and smut where MC gets the idea that a cloak of her own is all she needs to feel like a real member of the IG team.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094214

[munchmallow5]

Beneath the Moon POV Epilogue

[rocket-candy-heart]

I love the emphasis on partnership in all of Kyoichiro's stories 😍

[little-lady-mimi]

Art by 柚@koiranmira ⊳ Narukami Kyoichiro of Samurai Love Ballad Party (SLBP) 👍 Permission granted

*DO NOT redistribute/reupload/repost, edit, or remove credits.

[otonymous]

Slick (SLBP Kyoichiro - NSFW)

Description:  To turn up the heat with Kyoichiro, just add oil. Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised Word Count: 2050 (~ 10 minutes of smut/fluff/angst; perfect for your morning or evening commute) AO3: Read here

Author’s Notes: I’m currently playing Kyoichiro’s route in SLBP and it is giving me feels left, right and center!  So of course, I had to write about everyone’s favourite Sengoku era Robin Hood.  Hope you all enjoy this messy, mixed bag of a story! 

Tagging: all the other Kyoichiro fans that I can count on one hand 😆: @dear-mrs-otome, @quincette: THANK YOU BOTH for all the naked sprites @ieyasu-tacogawa:  Because I live for your Kyoichiro nanban hero comic strips. @saizoswifey: Whose awesome Kyoichiro headcanons I may have read a million times once or twice Other lovely readers:  @pseudofaux, @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons, @artemira-sengoku, @fieryanmitsu, @belxsar, @suzi-q-uinn, @otomediary 

All characters & SLBP owned by Voltage Inc.

“Watch it, bumpkin!”

It was too late.  The terracotta jug lay shattered on the shop floor, the golden liquid contained within slowly spreading out in concentric circles on the tatami.

Freezing in place at the jarring sound of the crash, you gradually bring yourself to face Kyoichiro, all the while mentally calculating how many years the accident will add to your indentured servitude.  His eyes are wide, the whites almost swallowing up the vibrant peridot of his irises; their perfect roundness only challenged by the shape of his mouth suspended open in disbelief.  

“Do.  You.  Have.  Any.  Idea.  How.  Expensive.  Olive.  Oil.  Is?!”

If it wasn’t for the fact that Kyoichiro’s face was completely drained of colour, you might have been tempted to unleash your horrible habit of laughing when nervous.  But his look of utter devastation channeled your jittery energy into quickly fetching a bowl from the kitchen instead, kneeling over to scoop up whatever was left of the liquid into its new container.  

“I’m so sorry!  There’s still a bit left.  Look!  A whole bowlful!”  You venture a smile, raising the offering up to the prickly merchant for inspection.  A hand shoots out to stop you in your tracks.

“Stop.  Just stop.  No one is going to want damaged goods and I sure as hell am not going to stake my good reputation on trying to pawn off merchandise that’s less than pristine.  Keep it for yourself bumpkin…”

Your eyes lift in surprised glee.

“…you’ll just work off the entire cost of the jug.  Gods, you’ll be here for a million years.”

Only to drop again like the stone that sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“Why are you naked?!”

“Really?  You come into my room, throw something at my face and that’s the first thing you think to say?  What is that anyways?  Don’t tell me that’s the olive oil you spilled earlier?”

The look of indignation leaves your face as you consider Kyoichiro’s words, feeling guilty for the second time today.  But evidently not guilty enough to avert your eyes from his body, your gaze drifting from his broad chest to the firm grid of his torso and finally, to the dark shadow trailing down his pelvis, the tantalizing preview cut short by the scarlet haori held up around his waist.  You discretely clear your throat before continuing.

“I-I thought you were a ninja of Iga, creeping around the way you did!  My body just reacted and tried to attack you with the only thing I had on hand.  But why are you naked in the first place?”

Kyoichiro shakes his head in exasperation.  

“Your furry, freeloading comrade happened to lose control of his bowels when I carried him home tonight, making a mess of Ishikawa Goemon’s extremely expensive, scalloped nanban shirt.  As such, I thought it prudent to clean up by the well outside before bringing the stench indoors.  But I suppose you just had to add insult to injury by dousing me in oil the second I entered my own home.  Bah, it’s all over the place!”

Securing the haori around his waist, Kyoichiro struggles to wipe the oil from his face, grimacing as his glancing touches prove unsuccessful.  

“Here, let me help.”

Gingerly, you approach him, his balled-up fists rubbing at his eyes the way a child does when fighting sleep.  The sight imparts an air of vulnerability to the seemingly invincible man that gives you pause.

“You really got me good this time, bumpkin.”

His voice, soft despite the accusation in his words, jolts you from the thicket of your thoughts, and you carefully bring your hands up to cradle his cheeks, thumbs gently sweeping along the thick fan of lashes lining his closed eyes.  The contact makes Kyoichiro’s breath hitch, and the sensation of his jaw relaxing under your palms makes you brave.

“Kyoichiro, you must know by now how...how I long for you.”

It was true.  Slowly but steadily, your fellow runaway had unobtrusively crept into your heart like smoke from his kiseru pipe, clinging to its deepest recesses the way the scent of tobacco clung to your clothes.  Unlikely though it was, his acerbic tongue only served to accentuate the kindness behind his actions, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself wishing to be the sole recipient of his special brand of tenderness.

But your admission is met with an excruciating silence, only broken by the sound of him removing your hands from his face to fall impotently by your sides.  His wavering voice, so low as to almost be a whisper, is heartbreakingly raw when he responds:

“You’ve got the wrong person.  I’m not the man you think you’re in love with.”

Kyoichiro makes to leave, turning away from you.  

Stop running!

“Tell me who you are then, so I can judge for myself!”

Your voice turns shrill in its desperation as your hand whips out to grab his retreating body, only to catch onto his haori, the luxurious fabric unravelling from his tapered hips with a flourish that was as dramatic as the man himself.

Hardly cognizant of the fact that your jaw had dropped, your gaze traverses the trails blazed by the viscous oil that had continued to run down his body during your heated exchange, the faint sheen highlighting every solid plane and sharp angle in the moonlight.  A sudden heat courses through you and you swallow dryly, feeling parched in the presence of the cool drink of water that was a bared Kyoichiro.  

“Is it not enough to strip me emotionally that you also feel the need to strip me physically too?!”  

The dusting of pink on his cheeks has now reached the tips of his ears, and you heave an inward sigh of disappointment as his large hands move to cover up a groin that couldn’t quite be masked despite their size.

“Fine!  You say you hate ninjas because we keep everything close to our hearts, always unwilling to take the first step in trusting anyone.  Consider this my attempt at meeting you halfway then!”

Caught up in the heat of the moment, you reach behind you to untie your obi, hands tugging at your kimono until it falls in a disheveled heap by your feet.  It isn’t until the cool night air sends a shiver through your naked body that you feel slightly sheepish at your impulsive behaviour.  

For once however, Kyoichiro’s smart mouth is rendered speechless by the sight of you before him.  No, he can tell by the artless way your fingers clench and unclench into nervous fists at your side that this is no ploy of a kunoichi; that maybe, just maybe, you are being honest with him.  Perhaps then, he could be honest with you.  After all, the unveiling of your secret skin conspired with the mystery of your curves to ignite a fire within him like no other, and even Kyoichiro had to admit that the body doesn’t lie.

“Please Kyo!  What can I do to make you love me?”  Your plea comes out in a rasp as you move to close the distance.

“I don’t deserve your lo—.”

Unwilling to listen to another disparaging word, you press your lips to his, allowing the sounds to die in your throat as your tongue slips into his mouth to swallow his bitterness for your own.

“Let me be the one to decide that.”  

His eyes, dark with desire, fixate on your mouth as you leave that whisper on his lips.  Finally released from the bounds of propriety, your hungry hands fly over Kyoichiro’s body, his shaky breaths encouraging your fingers to continue gliding over every dip and peak, borne on the slick oil coating his hot skin.  How many nights have you lain awake, hands moving furiously between your legs, imagining this very moment?

Linking your fingers behind his neck, you press the length of your body insistently to his, relishing in the slippery slide of your supple flesh against his firm muscles and caring not a whit about the mess.  And when you finally feel his hesitant hands alight on your skin, infinitely careful in their reciprocity, your ecstatic joy has you arching into his touch.

Kyoichiro’s breathing becomes shallow when you tiptoe up to suck the tender flesh of his neck into your mouth, his groan only adding to your desire to mark him boldly enough to necessitate the buttoning of every last button on his collared shirt for weeks to come.

“Hmm!  You don’t — ah!…don’t understand.  I’m not a good man.”  Kyoichiro utters his confession in between moans, his eyes half-lidded as you make to straddle his lap on the hurriedly made futon.  His cock pulsates under the undulating pressure of your hand, stroking torturously from thick base to smooth tip and back again.  At his protest, you slow your movements to take in the expression on his face, asking,

“Kyo, do you want this?  Do you want…me?”

He closes his eyes, their corners damp with the unfathomable weight of profound sorrow as he solemnly nods in affirmation.  Of course he wanted you. He’s wanted you ever since the day he first saw your face, when the clenching grip around his heart made him bristle and unleash ugly words designed to keep you at arm’s length.  He didn’t want you to sully yourself by associating with him, damaged and dripping in sin as he was.  The way you made him feel was altogether much too good for him, far surpassing his worth as either Narukami Kyoichiro or Ishikawa Goemon.  

Breathing a sigh of relief at his response, your lips taste the salt of his tears as they kiss them away.  “I’m glad.  Because if a man like you is considered bad, then I don’t want to be good.”

His eyes snap open to stare into yours, a softness pervading their emerald depths as the wall of ice starts to melt, signalling you to slowly lower yourself onto him while studying his face to catch every wisp of emotion.  The endeavour proves difficult however, as the delicious sensation of being overwhelmingly filled threatens to drive every semblance of thought from your mind as surely as the moans leaving your lips.

Wrapping your legs tightly about Kyoichiro’s waist, you start the slow rock of your pelvis into his hips, each swing ending in a grind of your sensitive clit against the hardness of his groin, already glistening from the commingled smears of olive oil and your mutual arousal.    

With you still perched on his lap, Kyoichiro takes your breast into his mouth, and you delight to find that his clever tongue is as skilled with pleasure as it is with sarcasm.  Suddenly, you start from the sensation of his teeth lightly grazing your nipple, earning a chuckle from him as he cheekily says, “Can’t have you being the only one with tricks up their sleeve tonight, now can we?”

“Do you always have to have the last word?”

“Yes, at least when it comes to your pleasure.”  

And with that, Kyoichiro lays himself flat on the futon, his strong arms keeping you in place above him as his hips thrust up impossibly fast from below, hitting all the right angles to make your mouth gape open in a silent scream.  The addition of his thumb drawing slippery circles about your clit proves to be altogether too much for you to take, and your climax has you collapsing onto Kyoichiro’s chest, panting as he tightens his grip on your ass to chase his own release.

“So, about that olive oil.  Seeing as the final dregs were used on you, perhaps you can cut me a deal and shave a few years off my debt?”

You pose the question to Kyoichiro, angling your head to face him as you lay on his chest, basking in the afterglow of intercourse and the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.  One look at the mischief on your flushed, smiling face is all it takes for him to know that you are the one thing he cannot give up.  

“I think not, bumpkin.  You see, I’ve already decided to never let you go.”

Incredible.  Also, slightly sexy.

Thanks for reading!  More stories available here! 💕

[quincette]

Sooooo when I first made Kyoichiro’s nekkid sprite gif from his ‘claim me’ event I thought his sprite sits woefully low in the frame...

Then lo and behold:

They fixed it!

Lookiet that tantalising shadowy part!

[samurailoveballadhistory]

Is Kyoichiro really a ninja? Apparently he is but all we’ve seen of him is he’s a merchant and if he is a ninja who does he serve?

Are you asking me historically or game-wise speaking? 

The original Japanese website listed Kyoichiro as “missing ninja”, meaning he’s off on his own and not particularly affiliated with any of the villages. He’s not technically “serving” Hideyoshi, but you will see that they associate together quite a lot. 

Traditionally Ishikawa Goemon used to be an Iga ninja who studied under Momochi Sandayu, but left due to various reasons. I emphasize “tradition”, not “history”, because historical records only list Goemon as a thief who was executed. All the ninja stories and “Robin Hood”-esque legends are later-date creation.

Just like us today, folks in the Edo era really like to write up exciting stories about dashing Sengoku heroes. Many weird or outlandish stories came about at that time, and so picking out the truth from the fluff is not easy.

[ieyasu-tacogawa]

“Amazing grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost

But now am found.

Was blind, but now I see.”