Age: Unknown. Late teens to early twenties
The sound of flapping wings were what woke him. That and the splitting headache. "CAW!" He opened his eyes the tiniest slit. The pain doubled. He shut his eyes tight. This time he put his hand to block the brilliant sun. He opened his eyes again, a bit more this time. Pain, but not half as bad as before. His hand is covered in something sticky. And red. Blood? He sat up slowly. The pain tripled, originating from the left side of his head, just above the ear. He felt around with a shaky hand. More pain, more dampness, more blood. "CAW! CAW!"
"Not so loud Crow-san." Crow-san cawed and came waddling over to peck at his sandal. Finally adjusting to the light he looked around. To his right, a katana. A fine sword. The saya snow-white silk, the beautifully made blade covered with dried blood. He looked about. There his opponent lay, his belly sliced open, quite dead. In his hand he held a tetsubo. He touched the bruise on his head and nodded. He walked over to a nearby stream to and cleaned his blade. The blade gleamed and now he could see the etching, a stylized wind design. A nice blade you have there. Wonder where I got it. It was then that it finally hit him. He didn't know who he was.
He burned the body as he knew was proper. How he knew this he couldn't say. He just knew. He gathered what things he thought were his and headed off on the road to his new life. He didn't know who he was anymore either. Daremo, Nobody. As good a name as any.
He wandered for a while, learning new things about himself everyday. He was quick with a blade. He knew how to handle himself in a fight. He had a short temper. Crow-san insisted on following him. He kept a journal, determined to never again forget who he was. After months of wandering they wound up in a city. Ryoko Owari they called it. Others called it the City of Lies. Whatever name you used it was home. Daremo and Crow-san joined a group of other ronin charged with protecting the monks in the Temple District. It was a life.
Daremo was walking home from the sake house one evening when he heard raised voices in the alley behind the sake house. He went to investigate and found 3 young samurai pushing around an old man. Unable to just stand by, Daremo called out to the young men. "If you wanted a fight, all you had to do was ask. I'll take you one at a time or all at once. What's it going to be?" Daremo smiles, his hand resting lightly on his blade and his feet taking an iaijutsu stance he didn't realize he knew. The boys turned as one. "You don't know who your messing with boy."
The leader stepped into the light of a lantern. Daremo saw the bright white of his teeth beneath the golden mask. His blood cooled when he realized he was dealing with Scorpion but he held his ground. "I don't care who you are. Leave or feel the bite of my steel."
Gold Mask said nothing, just motioned to his friends to stay back. He took his stance, his left hand resting lightly on his katana.
Time slowed to a near standstill as Daremo focused on Gold Mask, searching for weakness. Seconds turned to minutes as the two opponent's studied each other. There! A twitch! The flash of steel, a cry of pain and Mask was on the ground, a thin red line showing through his cut mask.
Daremo flicked the blood from his blade at his down opponent and sheathed his weapon. The Scorpion with the gold mask sneered and studied Daremo's face as if to memorize it before running off with his friends.
"A brave thing you did son. Stupid, but brave." The old man said, standing up with Daremo's assistance and dusting off his clothes.
"No one else was going to help you Grandfather-sama. I had to put them in their place." Daremo held out a hand a Crow-san flew down from the eaves of the building onto Daremo's outstretched hand. Finally getting a look at the old man, Daremo swore he had seen the old man before.
"It's rude to stare you know."
Daremo lowered his gaze in shame. "My apologies Grandfather-sama. You look familiar."
The old man smiled, "Enough of this Grandfather-sama business. Call me Sato. What's your name?"
Daremo's face turned red. "I...I don't remember... I had an...accident. My friends call me Daremo. It's a joke actually."
Sato shrugged. "Perhaps we knew each other in a past life." He offered cryptically. "Help an old man home," he said and started walking.
When they entered the humble house Sato shuffled off to make tea, leaving Daremo and Crow-san alone. When he returned with the tea Daremo was admiring a beautiful set of armor and a daisho.
"I used to be a duelist like yourself," Sato said, setting down the tea. "You have an interesting technique, Daremo-san. Fast like the wind. Reminds me of my old days."
Daremo bowed from the compliment. "Thank you Sato-sama." He smiled, moving to the table and waiting for his host to pour tea. "To be honest, I didn't know I could do that. Tonight was the first time I've dueled since my...injury."
Sato came to the table and poured tea. "You did well. With the right teacher you can do even better. I could be that teacher. Consider it payment for saving me from those ruffians."
Daremo's eyes went wide. "Thank you Sato-sensei. I would be honored." Crow-san cawed and stole a drink of tea.
Daremo is average height at 5'8" and has the lean build typical of a ronin. Not remembering if he belongs to a clan, he simply wears the colors that he likes. His kimono is dark red with his personal mon on the right breast, a crow clutching a katana with it's feet. His light armor is plain, and lacquered the dark gray of a thunder cloud. His hair is black and shaggy, he cuts it just short enough to stay out of his eyes. He has mud colored eyes. His skin is dark for a Rokugani, tanned from the many weeks spent outside. Daremo is fiercely loyal to his friends, they're the only family he knows. He can't abide cruelty, especially toward the lower classes since as ronin he isn't too far above them himself.