The Wandering Wolf (Azami)

Imposing. That a simple way to describe the man known as 'Samson'. He was tall, and muscular. He was quiet, though there was a fury in his eyes, seemingly only barely held back. His business down by the river was unclear. Maybe he was there to fish, or maybe he was only there to take in the sights. Regardless, there were few present who would dare speak to him, even for an autograph if they recognized him from his old boxing days. He was a beast in the ring. Intimidating, powerful, and viscous...and that was only in Samson's Punch-Out!, the game made by SOME local company. It was popular, though the final boss was generally considered overpowered. More recently there was the cartoon where Samson solved mysteries by punching ghosts. However, all of that was just promotions. It wasn't what he truly desired. In reality, he wanted to Punch Demons. In the face.

As far as he knew, he just needed to swear loyalty to the Queen. Or something. As long as it brought the glory of combat, he didn't care who he had to swear loyalty to. Though, promising him the chance for worthy foes...that in of itself was enough to make him loyal. He stared at the clear river, silently. His eyes partially hidden by his hood. He watched the shadow of a fish as it swam. It was only a matter of time until it was caught by a person...or was eaten by another, bigger fish. It was a small one, after all. It's fate was inevitable. Like all weaklings, there was only doom in it's future. Would putting it out of it's misery now be kinder...?

...well, sort of anyway. A small shiba in a wig and tiny jacket could only be so intimidating after all. But nevertheless, there was a certain magnetism that the creature carried with her wherever she went, an air of strength very odd for what to the naked eye should have appeared as nothing more than an eccentrically dressed pet or stray. As she walked out of the nearby foliage and proceeded toward the river a few eyes would stray away from Samson and turn to focus on her; some glistened with curiosity or appeared stained with confusion, others belonging to fishermen or the residents of Little Tokyo narrowed and scanned the creature with a look of deja vu on their faces. Regardless though, it mattered not to the hound.

Casually striding past the people around with her tail lifted in the air and a dignified look resting upon her face, Azami would pass by Samson without giving him so much as a glance. Perhaps she simply hadn't noticed him as she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings or maybe she just didn't care. Whatever the case, the canine would slow down as it approached the riverbank closer and closer, its eyes scanning the waters for any sudden movements. For a moment the Tsurinai would pause as it watched the fish swim past, but this brief stop would only last for a quick few seconds before the predator launched itself forward into the waters in a blur and lurched her head downwards to swoop the trout up into her jaws. Miraculously not an ounce of blood had been split and the fish squirmed and thrashed while the creature carefully held it in the air with its eyes looking over it gauging the worth of the catch. After a few seconds the shiba would make her decision and with discipline and grace that no normal mutt could surely possess would lower it back into the waters before releasing her grip on it and letting it swim free.

Then with no time to waste, she'd return to the shore and hop back up before turning to face the waters once again. Azami would shake the water from her fur (and in doing so inadvertently send some flying Samson's way) swiftly and proceed to kneel down near the water with her eyes watching it for any other prey worth her time. "Hopefully coming out here today isn't a waste." She thought to herself placing one paw halfway into the water and stirring it idly while she bided her time.

Relevant(?) Strengths/Weaknesses:

Samson stared at the small dog as she walked over to the river, and then proceeded to quickly catch a fish out of the water. Well. Dogs had SOME hunting instincts. It wasn't very unusual to him, despite the strange aura the dog seemed to give off. What happened next however WAS. There weren't many dogs who could not only not draw a single drop of blood after doing something like that, but then proceed to easily release it back into the water...of course, anything that impressed him was replaced by annoyance once it splashed water onto his clothes. "Watch yourself, mutt." He growled. No matter how skilled it may seem, he wouldn't put up with it spreading water around like that. Especially onto his clothes.

Honestly, people needed to keep closer eyes on their dogs! Especially ones that wore weird wigs and jackets. Up with that he would not put...what sort of owner even GAVE their dog a wig and a jacket?!

The warning from the gruff voice behind her would catch Azami by surprise, but she wouldn't let it show. Looking over her shoulder to see just who it was that was talking to her, the girl would discover an almost absurdly tall man who appeared to be the size of a boulder... a really, really buff boulder. Her eyes would stare at him with curiosity; she hadn't encountered many whose body had this sort of build before, not in Japan and certainly not in Endymion. More likely than not it was just a coincidence that she'd meet someone who looked like this, but on an instinctual level she got the feeling that this man was anything but an ordinary person. Humans didn't become walking masses of muscle by occasionally doing sit-ups in the morning after eating breakfast.

Still, his size didn't matter to her in the slightest, nor did his blatantly sour demeanor. Respect was something earned and if she didn't give it to Shiina right away then she certainly wasn't going to toss it at this complete stranger's feet. Even if judging him by the cover proved accurate there was much more than raw, physical force that one needed to warrant deference.

"Same goes for you Gojira. It's not my fault that the buffoons of this city are too braindead to lean out of the way when a little water comes their way." Of course Azami was aware that he wouldn't be able to understand what she was saying. If it weren't for the language barrier she likely wouldn't have commented at all on the issue: despite her minor irritation at the man she had no intention of causing a ruckus. Getting into a fight over a little water was an absurd notion, so she'd just be more careful from that point on and keep his sensitivities in mind. Even so, she couldn't help but find this situation a little amusing. These people had lived in ground zero during the Eternal Divide, so you'd think that nothing would be able to faze them, but apparently getting their clothes wet was enough to upset them these days. "A city of clowns so it seems. The scenery's a nice change of pace at least."

Samson continued to stare at the strange little dog. Who let this one go, anyway? It was tiny, and annoying. The sort of dog that would mysteriously go missing for getting water on the former boxing champion. "You're a yappy mutt, I'll give you that." He stated plainly. It was less that he was upset, and more slightly annoyed at whoever would let such a poorly trained dog wander off on it's own. It seemed as though it knew how to catch fish, but...not much else. Still...knowing his luck it probably belonged to some wide-eyed little kid who would CRY. Which was even worse than water. And so...he decided to follow the sassy little dog. There was something about the dog that intrigued him, and at least this way he could at least make sure it got back to it's owner alright. And he really didn't have much else to do. Well. That wasn't entirely true, but he didn't have anything else interesting to do.

He just really hoped there wasn't anymore water involved.

Samson's grumbling would be more or less ignored by the strange dog as instead she turned around and focused back on the river. She had little intention of going back to the manor so soon, especially considering how long it took her to come out here, so instead Azami would patiently wait where she was and would watch for the waters intently for any signs of movement. Annoyingly enough it seemed that there were very little fish in the area today, but the beast refused to give up her endeavors; she had only just started after all and was determined to make the most out of the time she had devoted to her daily hunt. With a wag of her tail, the shiba would wait quietly paying no heed to the man's prying eyes. If he wished for her attention for whatever reason then he'd likely have to do something to earn it.

Samson stared into the water as well after a moment, eyes narrowing, he knelt, carefully, determined not to get any more water onto his clothes. After a moment of staring, he saw what the dog apparently did not. With a jab only possible from a former boxing champion, his fist closed tightly around a fish, and he pulled it out of the water. Normally when he did that there was a sound because someone hit the ground but...he was fine with catching a fish. At least for now. "Bah. Not big enough to eat." He muttered, after examining it for a moment. He didn't even like fish that much anyway. He set it back into the water carelessly...and by set, of course what was meant was that he tossed it casually back into the river, far away from where it started. "...I refuse to gut a fish, anyway."

Staring up in confusion as Samson singlehandedly caught the fish she had been searching for with no effort whatsoever, Azami would sit there confused and indignant for a few seconds before slowly getting up and walking off. "Fuck this gay Earth..." She'd mutter to herself in a series of quiet borfs as she wandered off away from the River Way. That was enough fishing for today.