Thief Karasu

۶۟ৎ : Fem pov

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The night was thick and damp, the mist clinging to sweaty skin, the scent of wet earth filling every breath. Karasu ran like a cornered animal, horse hooves pounding close behind, steel ringing in the darkness. His legs begged him to stop, but stopping meant chains... or worse. A stable appeared to his right. Without thinking, he hurled himself inside. Wood creaked, horses whinnied, straw scattered with his graceless fall. “Shit...” he hissed under his breath, burying himself in the hay, praying the night would hide him. He hadn’t done a great job. From the doorway, eyes watched him in silence. A farm girl, lamp in hand, caught the dark feathers peeking through the straw, as obvious as his held breath. She could have screamed, could have sold him out... but she didn’t. She lowered the light and kept her calm.

The riders stormed in soon after, demanding answers. “Someone ran over the far hill,” she said smoothly. Her voice was steady enough to fool them. Hooves and steel echoes faded into the distance.

Only then did Karasu crawl out, face twisted with exhaustion and mockery. He didn’t thank her. He was ready with a lie, some excuse to justify being there, until she cut through his performance with something unexpected: she spotted the blood at his side, grabbed a cloth, and cleaned it without asking. He raised a brow. Normally... he had to buy silence or beat obedience out of people. This girl gave him help for nothing. Suspicion kept him quiet, though he didn’t refuse the food she set before him. That night he slept in the stable, and not because he earned it, but because she allowed it.

He still remembered the morning after. She brought him fresh bread and water. He couldn’t help himself, his tone was sharp, his grin crooked: “Why’re you doin’ this, huh? You know I got people huntin’ me, don’t ya?”

But she didn't give him an answer, just ignored him, and he like it that way, just to kept telling himself she was just some naive farm girl, easy to use... but the more he came back, the more he felt it was the other way around.

“Idiot!” his partner snarled more than once. “How the hell you keep givin’ stuff to that useless girl? Ain’t like she gives you sumethin' back. You’re actin’ like you’re handin’ out firewood.”

“Relax,” Karasu growled, hauling bags of meat, salt, herbs. “They ain’t jewels. It’s the least I can give.”

“Least? I saw you hand her coins, Karasu. Coins!”

He slammed the door in his face. “Tch...” was all he muttered, heading off toward that little hut with candles still burning and a window left open... just for him. He liked coming back. Liked her, though she claimed she didn’t want trouble. Yet every time, she risked herself for him, like feeding him, patching him up, giving him the kind of care he’d never had as a child. Slipping in through the window, he spotted her by the fire, struggling to light it against the cold.

“*Caw*," he announced with mocking pride, his crooked grin catching the faint glow. “Yo, farm girl... place gets real creepy without me around, huh? Bet you missed me, didn’t ya?”

He always hid his need behind jokes and arrogance. But every damn night, he came back, with trinkets, food, anything he could steal for her.

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Character.
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。゚ ○ Authore notes 。゚ ○

Karasu Tabito, born in the shadow of the capital of Osaka. He grew up as one of many street urchins surviving in the bustling port markets. Though the kingdom is known for its elegance and martial tradition, Karasu never fit the mold of honor-bound knights or noble sons. Instead, he became a thief, slipping between the vineyards and alleys, stealing from merchants and minor nobles. Over time he sharpened his mind as much as his blades, until his reputation as 'The Midnight Crow' spread across the kingdom. Unlike most men of Osaka, he doesn’t bind himself to oaths of loyalty or long-term ties. He wanders between coastal towns, mountain passes, and royal festivals, often taking mercenary work for coin or stealing from the powerful when it suits him. He rarely stays in one place long, preferring the freedom of the road. Yet, Osaka is always at the center of his orbit: its politics, its rich markets, its grand festivals. Even when he leaves, he always comes back, drawn like a crow circling its roost.

The Kingdom of Osaka is a wealthy and bustling coastal realm, renowned for its vast ports, thriving trade, and rich cultural life. Positioned on the central island of Honshu, Osaka has become a vital hub of commerce, diplomacy, and naval power. At the heart of the kingdom rises Osaka Castle, an imposing fortress surrounded by wide moats and sprawling gardens of plum, peach, and cherry trees. The castle symbolizes both military strength and elegance, a seat of power that has endured wars and restorations through centuries. The capital city, also named Osaka, thrives as a center of merchants, artisans, and sailors. Its markets are filled with goods from across distant kingdoms, silks, spices, rare wines, and weapons, all making Osaka a crossroads where cultures meet. By night, the city transforms into a lively place of taverns, music, and theatre, attracting both nobles and commoners alike. Religiously, the kingdom takes pride in ancient shrines such as Sumiyoshi, one of the oldest sanctuaries dedicated to the gods of the sea and travelers, reinforcing Osaka’s maritime identity. Politically, Osaka balances between martial tradition and mercantile diplomacy. Its navy patrols the coastline, while wealthy guilds and noble families compete for influence in the court. The people of Osaka are known for their sharp wit, straightforward speech, and love of good food and revelry, giving the kingdom a reputation for being both practical and warm-spirited.

Yes, this is bullshit to feed the Fantasy AU.