He only managed to suffer through a single hours worth of sleep, but the previous day he had already given the order for the villagers to be assembled.
He stood there, on a wooden platform, with Jikouji at his side as they watched the villagers gather. The first drops of rain splattered down, lightly coating their hair in a series of wet droplets.
It seemed word had spread, and the villagers had an inkling of why they were here. The gazes they shot his way were not friendly. But he barely registered that, and struggled to keep his eyes open and his gaze focused.
They seemed to be taking forever to gather, and his gaze became distracted, as he observed how the mud gradually moistened and became stickier and wetter with each person that stepped upon it. He took notice of the rising intensity with which their disgusted expressions were manifest in response to the filth that clung to their feet.
'We are rather predictable, are we not?'
