Of final autumn leaves falling

Mission detaiuls:

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the fields, Takeshiyama arrived at the farmstead, ready to lend a hand. The village’s harvest season had brought an unusual bustle to the outskirts of Tsuki, with farmers and families alike laboring in unison to gather their yield before the chill of autumn settled in. It was hard work, and the air was thick with the earthy scent of freshly upturned soil and ripening crops.

Takeshiyama moved purposefully, his sturdy frame an asset as he joined the team tasked with lifting bundles of freshly harvested rice from the muddy paddies. Each bundle was heavy with the weight of the season’s growth, but his movements were practiced and calm. With a steady rhythm, he hefted the bundles over his shoulder, carrying them to the drying racks where they would later be prepared for market. His single arm did not slow him; rather, it seemed to drive him, his focus sharper as he worked to keep pace with the others.

The farmers’ gratitude was evident in the way they greeted him with smiles and nods of respect. They were used to the backbreaking labor of harvest season, but extra hands—even the enormous, scarred hands of the oni-like warrior—were always appreciated. As the sun moved higher, Takeshiyama transitioned to inspecting bundles of wheat and vegetables for blemishes and damage, sorting them with care. His keen eye caught even the smallest imperfections, ensuring that only the best produce would be taken to the village market.

During a short break, one of the farmers, an elderly man with a voice as weathered as his hands, offered him a drink of water and a nod of approval. “Strong hands, quick work,” he said with a chuckle. “Reminds me of the harvest hands we’d get years ago. No one quite like you, though. But you’ve got the spirit for this kind of work.”

Takeshiyama gave a respectful nod, accepting the praise but remaining humble. “The earth gives much to all of us. I’m only here to honor that,” he replied, his tone sincere.

As the day wore on, he joined a group of villagers at the market stall, assisting with the display of fruits, vegetables, and grains they had spent hours harvesting and preparing. Children scurried past with baskets, mothers bartered with passing travelers, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation. Takeshiyama, despite his intimidating appearance, found himself smiling as he helped an elderly woman select a plump gourd.

The sun was setting by the time the last of the produce was sold or packed away. Exhausted but content, Takeshiyama made his way back to the farm. The elderly farmer met him at the gate, offering a bundle of fresh vegetables and a basket of glistening apples in thanks.

“You worked hard today, Takeshiyama. The village is grateful for it,” he said with a bow.  Takeshiyama nodded, a rare smile touching his face. He accepted the gift, grateful for the day’s labor and the quiet satisfaction that came with it.  Takeshiyama packed the fresh vegetables and apples into his bag, satisfied with the hard day’s work behind him. The warm glow of the setting sun lit up the fields, painting the crops in shades of gold and orange. As he wandered through the rows, stretching his legs, his gaze landed on a particularly large pumpkin. Its vibrant orange skin stood out among its smaller companions, and the sight of it brought a rare smile to his lips.

“This one will do nicely,” he muttered to himself, crouching to inspect it. He reached out, his calloused hand brushing over its smooth surface, before lifting it with ease. Its weight was satisfying, a promise of a hearty meal to come. He turned to make his way back toward the farmers when his sharp ears caught the sound of low voices nearby.

“…not normal. Scarecrows ripped apart, crops ruined every night,” one voice said, laced with frustration.

“Those crows aren’t acting right. It’s like they know what they’re doing,” another replied, anger mingling with desperation. “If we don’t figure this out, we’ll lose everything.”

Intrigued, Takeshiyama approached the two men, his broad frame casting a long shadow over them. The farmers looked up, startled by the sudden presence of the towering sumotori.

“What’s this about crows?” he asked, his voice calm yet firm, a quiet authority in his tone.

The farmers exchanged uncertain glances before one finally spoke up. “It’s the murder of crows that’s been hitting our fields. They’re smarter than any birds we’ve dealt with before. Aggressive, too. They’ve been tearing apart our scarecrows, ripping up crops. It’s like they’ve declared war on us.”

“Scarecrows used to keep them away,” the second farmer added, his brow furrowed. “But now it’s as if they’ve figured out they’re not real. We were just saying… if someone were to act as a scarecrow, maybe that’d spook them. If not—well, you look like someone who could handle a few angry birds.”

Takeshiyama considered their words. The task was unusual, bordering on absurd, but he had faced stranger challenges in his time. Protecting the fields seemed a worthy cause, and he welcomed the opportunity to test his reflexes. After a moment, he gave a single nod. “I’ll do it.”

The farmers wasted no time. They handed him tattered old clothes, a burlap sack, and bits of straw to stuff into the makeshift disguise. Before long, Takeshiyama stood in the middle of the field, dressed as a scarecrow. The burlap sack covered his head, with holes cut out for his eyes, and the straw protruded awkwardly from his sleeves and pants. Beneath the costume, Wiggly-Woo shifted uncomfortably, his voice echoing telepathically in Takeshiyama’s mind. "Thissss isssss beneath usssss, don’t you think?"

“Hush,” Takeshiyama replied silently. “We’re helping. Stay still.”

The moon had risen by the time the first caws pierced the quiet of the night. Takeshiyama stood perfectly still, blending into the rows of crops, his massive form an imposing silhouette. The murder of crows arrived in waves, their dark shapes cutting through the moonlight. At first, they circled cautiously, their sharp eyes fixed on him. But it didn’t take long for one particularly bold bird to make its move.

With a sharp cry, the crow dove at him, aiming for his head. Takeshiyama’s hand shot up with practiced speed, swatting it away with a straw-stuffed sleeve. The bird squawked in surprise, flapping wildly before retreating. The rest of the flock erupted into chaos, their cries echoing across the fields as they scattered, only to regroup moments later.

The next few minutes became a tense game of cat and mouse. Each time a crow darted toward him, Takeshiyama reacted with precise, measured movements. His years of rikishi training gave him an edge, his reflexes honed to perfection. He stomped his foot into the ground with a thunderous DOKOUSHO!, a ritual sumo stomp that sent vibrations through the earth. The sound and movement startled the crows, causing them to flap away in a panic.

But the birds were persistent. Wave after wave, they returned, testing his resolve. Takeshiyama remained steadfast, his large frame swaying slightly as he kept his balance among the crops. Occasionally, he shouted, his deep voice booming across the field like thunder, further unsettling the murder. Wiggly-Woo, hidden beneath his kimono, added his own contribution, his presence radiating a faint, unsettling energy that seemed to keep the more curious crows at bay.

Eventually, the flock seemed to realize they were outmatched. With a final series of frustrated caws, the crows scattered into the night, their dark forms disappearing against the starry sky. Takeshiyama watched them go, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths. The field was quiet once more, the crops untouched and swaying gently in the night breeze.  When the farmers returned, lanterns in hand, they found Takeshiyama standing tall among the intact crops. His scarecrow disguise was slightly disheveled, bits of straw poking out at odd angles, but the field was unscathed.

“You did it,” one of the farmers said, his voice filled with relief. “The crows are gone.”

Takeshiyama nodded. “Your fields are safe—for now. Stay vigilant.”

The farmers beamed with gratitude, offering him their thanks and a few extra crops as a reward for his efforts. Takeshiyama accepted them with a curt nod, packing the goods alongside the pumpkin he had chosen earlier. As he turned to leave, he glanced back at the fields, the moonlight casting a serene glow over the land. The day had been long and strange, but as he walked back toward the village, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over him.

Behind him, the fields stood silent, protected—for now. But somewhere in the distance, the murder of crows was not so easily deterred. In a shadowed grove far from the farmers' fields, the flock swirled together like a black storm, their caws echoing in a chaotic symphony. In their midst, perched atop a jagged tree stripped bare of leaves, loomed a monstrous crow, its feathers shimmering like an oil slick in the moonlight.

The creature's eyes glowed an eerie, unnatural red, scanning its disheveled flock with an intelligence far beyond ordinary birds. It opened its massive beak and released a deep, guttural cry that silenced the rest. The smaller crows turned their heads upward, bowing their sleek forms as if in deference to their leader. The monstrous crow ruffled its wings, each motion sending a ripple of malice through the air, and with a single, deliberate caw, it called its kin to regroup. The night swallowed their cries, but the ominous tone lingered, a dark promise of vengeance yet to come.

It was the next morning, after breakfest and as he was packing up his belongings to continue on his trip out of moon that Kaito noticed a group a bit more miserable than they should have been given the good work the dayt and night before.  Takeshiyama studied the farmers as they spoke of a monstrous crow. Their fear was palpable, their voices trembling as they described the strange effects on those who had wandered too close: muddled minds, dulled senses, an oppressive weight that seemed to crush their will to resist. The stories painted a picture of something far more dangerous than a mere animal.

“It doesn’t sound like an ordinary bird,” Takeshiyama said, his tone measured as he interupted the group. “And if it’s commanding the others, it won’t stop until this place is picked clean.”  He thought back to the crows he had sent flying the night before.  It seems that a group had come back from the woods after he had went to bed scared to death by what they had seen.

The farmers nodded, their faces drawn with worry. “We don’t know what else to do. If you can scare it off or… or take it down, we’d be forever in your debt.”

The giant nodded. “I’ll deal with it.”  One last task before he left the land of moon.

The trail into the woods where the monstrous crow was said to nest was easy to find, marked by deep gouges in the trees and feathers scattered like dark omens. Takeshiyama felt the air grow heavier as he stepped deeper into the forest, the sun’s fading light casting long, distorted shadows.  “Ssssomething isssssn’t right here,” Wiggly-Woo’s voice echoed in his mind. The snake stirred from its resting place, coiled tightly around his arm. “I ssssenssse more than just a bird. Be cautioussss.”

Takeshiyama grunted his agreement, his one hand gripping his kanobo as he pushed forward. The usual sounds of the forest were absent. No chirping insects, no rustling leaves—only an eerie silence broken by the occasional caw from somewhere above. 
 After what felt like hours, he emerged into a clearing dominated by a colossal oak tree. Its branches twisted skyward like skeletal arms, and nestled among them was a massive, chaotic nest of gnarled sticks and feathers. Perched on the highest branch, its form silhouetted against the deepening twilight, was the creature itself.

The giant crow was unlike anything Takeshiyama had ever seen. Its feathers shimmered with an unnatural sheen, black as midnight and shot through with veins of crimson. Its eyes burned like coals, their malevolence visible even from this distance. The beast cocked its head, studying him with an intelligence that sent a chill down his spine.  “Come down,” Takeshiyama called, his voice steady despite the oppressive air. 

The crow responded with a piercing screech that rattled the very air. Takeshiyama felt the sound crawl into his mind, a cacophony of whispers and mocking laughter. He stumbled, shaking his head as if to clear it. Wiggly-Woo tightened its grip on his arm, the constriction providing a lifeline from madness.

“Focusss!” the snake hissed. “Don’t let it in!”  The snake opened its minds eye, its abilities in the realm of sensory and concentration that above an average beast and even that of many other humans.  Its own chakra flooded and fluctated against Kaito's, keeping the anamilistic genjutsu at bay.  

Takeshiyama grounded himself, planting his feet firmly and exhaling sharply. The whispers receded, but the crow had already launched itself from the tree. Its wings beat with thunderous force, sending a gale of wind howling through the clearing. Takeshiyama braced himself, raising his kanobo just in time to deflect a strike from the bird’s razor-sharp talons.  The crow wheeled around with unnatural speed, its beady eyes glowing brighter. It dove again, talons outstretched. Takeshiyama met it head-on, swinging his kanobo in a wide arc. The impact resounded like a bell, the force of the blow driving the bird back. It screeched in fury, circling above as if recalculating its attack.

Takeshiyama felt the air shift. From the shadows of the trees, smaller crows emerged, dozens of them, their cries forming a discordant symphony. They swarmed him, their talons raking at his clothes and skin. He swung his kanobo in powerful, sweeping motions, scattering the smaller birds like leaves in a storm. Wiggly-Woo struck out with lightning speed, felling one crow after another.  Its fangs coming swiftly from his owners clothes just to retreat before talons could exact any revenge.  

“Thissss thing commandssss an army,” the snake hissed. “It’ssss no ordinary creature. There’ssss ssstrange chakra here.”

“Then we break it,” Takeshiyama growled, his resolve hardening.

The giant crow descended again, this time flanked by its smaller kin. Its talons glowed faintly, the crimson light in its eyes flaring as it let out another mind-rattling screech. The whispers returned, louder this time, taunting and relentless.

“You are nothing. Broken. Worthless. You cannot win.”

Takeshiyama’s jaw tightened, his grip on the kanobo steady. “You’ll have to do better than that.”  He said through cleanched jaws.  Wiggly-Woo had full retreated now, it's only focus on keeping whatever mental maladies the crow commanded from taking over the sumotori in earnest.  

He stomped his foot into the ground with all his might, sending a tremor through the clearing. The force disoriented the smaller crows, many of them fluttering away in confusion. The giant crow faltered mid-dive, and Takeshiyama seized the opportunity. With a roar, he leapt forward, swinging his kanobo in a crushing blow aimed directly at the bird’s chest, a last resort attack to end the confrontation quickly.  The weapon connected with a sickening crack, sending the crow crashing to the ground. The remaining birds scattered, their cries fading as they fled into the trees. The monstrous bird writhed, its massive wings struggling to lift its broken body. Takeshiyama approached cautiously, his kanobo at the ready.

The crow’s eyes locked onto him, burning with a mixture of hatred and desperation. It let out a final, guttural cry, and the whispers surged back, accompanied by a wave of energy that nearly knocked him off his feet. The air shimmered, and for a moment, Takeshiyama saw something beyond the bird—a dark presence coiled around it like a shadow given form.  Even as Wiggly-Woo poured every once of his strength into their defense, it was still overwhelmed. 

“Thisss issss no mere beassssst,” Wiggly-Woo said. “It’s a vessssssel for sssssomething darker. End it, now.”  the snake continues to hiss, its own mind starting to falter under the waves of blackened chakra.  

Takeshiyama hesitated only a moment before bringing his kanobo down with all his strength. The impact silenced the whispers, the crow’s body dissolving into a cloud of black feathers that swirled upward before vanishing into the night. The oppressive weight lifted, and the forest seemed to exhale, its natural sounds returning in a hesitant chorus.  Though physically he sported only a few scratches and cuts, his head throbbed, a different malody befalling him than that of the physical kind.  

When Takeshiyama returned to the farm some hours later, the farmers rushed to meet him. Their lanterns bobbed like fireflies as they gathered around, their faces a mixture of hope and fear.  Though he had started in the morning, it was well past nightfall when he found his way back out of the woods.  

“It’s done,” Takeshiyama said simply. “The crow and its flock won’t trouble you again.”

The elder farmer stepped forward, his weathered face breaking into a smile of relief. “You’ve saved us,” he said, bowing deeply. “We cannot thank you enough.”

The farmers offered him a share of their finest crops in gratitude, but Takeshiyama waved them off. “Keep it,” he said he said simply, content with the rewards he had already been given for his honest work.  

As he turned to leave, the elder called out. “What was it, that thing?”

Takeshiyama paused, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon. “A shadow of something worse,” he said simply, before shouldering his bag and making his way towards one of the harbor towns where he could catch a ship off of moon.  

With that, he walked into the night, Wiggly-Woo silent on his arm. Though the battle was won, the unease lingered. Somewhere beyond the quiet of the village, Takeshiyama knew the darkness still waited, watching, and perhaps even plotting its next move.  This was not the first creature that had attacked the sanctity of the village and its out dwelling outskirts.  The mutant the held council within the ruins was potentially the biggest threat, a threat that had taken one of his arms, and yet this beast had not felt the same as that.  Those beasts had a more human mind, that of dogs on a leash trained by something....maybe not human but adjacent enough to be able to understand its motivations.  This however, felt different.  

As he walked he had meant to speak with his slithery companion, but as he began to speak he quickly found the snake fast asleep coiled around him.  The endeavor had drained him of the majority of his chakra, and he thought the snake deserved its rest anyway.  Sighing, he simply allowed the quite sounds of the night wash around him, cleansing him of his time within the walls of the city, and reminding him of how things had been before he had taken up such a prolonged residence.  He'd kept a steady pace ahead of the main group, today would be no different.

It had started as s simple excuse for some time alone with his own thoughts, but being alone can hold the same addictive qualities as that of the strongest sake.  now that he had the tastes, he was finding a hard time putting the bottle down so to say.  He thought that if anything would go amiss, he would know it....though he wasn't sure how he would.  He just felt he would, so unless something else occurred he would continue.  He'd already let Junko know of his early departure, and he felt that he'd simply meet them at the harbor town before they caught a boat off the island.  

The rest of the walk would go on without any interruptions or anything of note.  Wiggly-Woo remained asleep even as he made it into the harbor town late into the night, nearly early to the morning depending on one's own proclivities to waking or sleeping hours.  Finding an inn he had used more than once; he would toss the keep some extra ryo and get a simple room set up.  Staring out the window he would watch the empty streets, thinking it was likely tomorrow he would leave the island for the first time in some time.  

His original mission was not yet done here, the tournament postponed due to one disaster after another, as though filler had been placed in one's favorite story so as to keep things going.  Sometimes it seemed his path had diverted, and he wondered if he could step back upon it.  Even as these thoughts passed, a dull throb from his phantom hand seemed to ache.  A wrestler with one hand...would he ever be voted for his title now, even with a win....It was unknown, and it was what haunted his dreams, so much so he failed to notice the whispers that had started back up now that he fell into sleep.....

- exit-

TWC - 3524 

Claims
8,500ryo for 3 missions rewards
3 missions at B rank = a bonus of 12,000 ryo at 4k a piece for B
42ap for 3 missions to Wiggly-Woo
35 fall Tickets
1 festival poster

Sky Shredding Dragon - 1825 words to learning this at A rank with the 25% discount
Temple Style Bark - Prev training of 444 here, needing using 1381 to learn it at A