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As it worked, Takehiro would have dug the spear through deeply, twisting it to insure maximum damage would be dealt to the man. As he reacted rather quickly, so too would the man hired to kill him; Takehiro's arm shot up in defense, his own forearm sent to collide with this Kamaitachi's to stop the advance of the sickle, though it would put the two in a sort of stalemate.

"Who was it you murdered? Small children?!"

The mercenary would laugh, raising his right foot and aiming to slam it into the man's thigh, which would, in turn, shoot his leg out from under him and cause him to fall. Were the strike successful, he would rip the spear clean from the man's shoulder, but keep the chain wrapped around it.

"You must heavily underestimate the situation, my friend." 

Takehiro leaned down, picking up another katana. The man's obvious bias toward Takeda craftsmanship made him curious - obviously, anything Takeda was better than this blade. But, this katana was brittle, the metal was impure. The blade and the handle were not centered... this was a local blade.

"Definitely not Tokugawa... but hey, spoils are spoils, coin is coin."

The mercenary smiled at the Takeda boy, taking yet another blade for himself. This totaled six, and could at least get the man a room for the night.

"That I am. Amakusa Takehiro." With that, he would make his way outside the tavern. "I don't believe I should be here, now. I've made a name as a Takeda supporter and, quite frankly, my allegiance lies with the man with the coin."

"From the look of you, they should've hired a woman."

Takehiro grinned devilishly as the man was taunted into action. As the sickle went into the air, the spear left Takehiro's shoulder, and he would hold it vertically in front of him, pushing it against the chain as the sickle would come his way. This would cause the sickle to serve as a weight, and wrap around the spear. From there, Takehiro would place one hand against the chain and pull, intent on catching the man off balance and pulling him toward the mercenary.

If the pull worked, Takehiro would charge forward and thrust the spear at his target, aiming to run it through the man's shoulder.

While the other man spoke trash, Takehiro reached down to take a bunch of the katanas, putting them back into their scabbards and tying them to his belt. The craftsmanship was poor, but he knew he could get at least a gold piece per blade, especially with all of these daimyos searching for weapons as often as they were. Get enough pieces of crap together, and you've actually got some decent reward out of it! Worst-case, he could probably smelt the blades back down and make more money off the iron than he would from the swords.

"Don't stoke the flames, Takeda boy. This village is small, word will spread quickly. You gonna be fine with the people tearing themselves apart because you couldn't hold your tongue?"

He stood to his feet, five katanas tied to his waist, and spear in hand. He wasn't trying to give a lecture, he was just posing a moral question.

Takehiro had taken a job to protect a daimyo's men, and they all seemed to be physically incapable of performing the tasks required of them. This made their protection even more difficult, as they all basically seemed like children in a Samurai's attire. Unfortunately, they were all adults, making them that much more pitiful. The daimyo, seeing this, decided he would put all of his men - mercenaries included - to a test. They had twelve hours to complete a fitness exercise, which involved running, push-ups, and sit-ups, all in stormy weather. Takehiro, along with the other mercenaries, were expected to lead the exercises, giving the daimyo's men something to strive for.

All of the men - mercenaries and soldiers alike - were lined up outside the camp, in a giant conglomerate of men. Many of the men had kept their armor on, for fear of catching cold in this weather. Takehiro, however, only adorned his hakama, to cover his legs. He would run through this barefoot, as a sort of challenge to himself.

As soon as the daimyo signaled, all of the men took off, running. The daimyo's men started off in a sprint, leaving the mercenaries behind from the start. Takehiro, along with the other men he worked with, paced themselves, starting off with a jog. Because of this, as the laps went on, the daimyo's men fell further and further behind the mercenaries, who would continue with relative ease. The laps would take a toll on them, however, causing their muscles to cramp up, especially given the harsh cold, and the rain pouring down on them.

Takehiro himself pushed through the laps as best he could, always at the lead. He was tired, his muscles ached, he could hardly see from his hair in his eyes, and his feet were beginning to numb, but he continued to push through the pain. In a matter of hours, he'd successfully finished each of the laps, being the first to make it back into the camp, and the first to begin the push-up test.

His body almost felt limp as he skidded to a halt, falling to his hands and knees. He went straight into the push-ups, only managing ten before his body began to burn horribly. He tried to push through the next ten, but only managed five before his arms collapsed under him, his face falling into the mud. He was already worn out from the laps. So, he decided he would spend a moment resting between each increment of fifteen push-ups, allowing his body to recover. With this method, he managed to complete the push-ups in a total of an hour-and-a-half, allowing himself ample recovery time.

By the time he'd finished the push-ups, most of the daimyo's men had only begun, so he took the time they'd done their push-ups to rest his muscles. This way, he could breeze through the sit-ups.

Two hours of rest would go by, and the mercenary would begin the sit-ups, and his body had almost fully recovered. This allowed him to push through increments of fifty before he felt his stomach tense up, and he'd successfully completed them within thirty minutes.

Boy, was he going to feel this tomorrow.

Takehiro smirked as the man stood to his feet. He was dirty, he was foul, and yet he still demanded respect, as though it could be given to a drunken murderer. He spit insults in quick succession, as if to deter or taunt the warrior before him, but it would not aid him. His words had no affect on the mercenary.

"I am the man who's been hired to kill you."

The spear was pulled back, falling atop Takehiro's shoulder, as if he did not deem the man before him a threat. His body was relaxed, his demeanor taunting. He'd found the monster the folk of the country spoke of, and what he saw was, admittedly, disappointing. Hopefully he'd redeem himself through combat.

"I'll tell you what - you put up a good fight, I won't kill you."

His eyes never left those sickles.

Tiredly, the mercenary downed his cup of Sake in a single gulp. He grunted a little, putting his cup back onto the table and sliding it toward the center of the table. He took a moment to collect himself, looking around the inn, and realizing there was only one other (wo)man at the table. He seemed pre-occupied with whatever he was doing, and also seemed scared of conversation. Horribly reserved... in this day and age? And he had a bow with him, meaning he was... either he was with a faction, or he was a merc.

"Hard to find good work these days, don't you think?"

Takehiro offered a kind smile to the man, trying to make him feel a little more comfortable. That, and he didn't feel entirely checked out yet, so he might as well make conversation, right?

"At least, work that doesn't involve horrid shit."

Takehiro would have been a part of one of the groups who'd veered off to the flanks of the village. He would make his way through rather easily, as all the main forces were currently pre-occupied. The other bandits would begin their pillaging, and he would serve as their guard, keeping watch, and keeping them safe.

He had to admit, this wasn't entirely sitting well with him, but a job is a job, and apparently there was good reason for this. He'd done worse before, though, so it wouldn't keep him from sleeping well, that was for sure.

[OoC: Changing the scenario just a little to fit Takehiro's situation, since he serves under no banner.]

A group of prospective recruiters under every banner had entered this large town, in which Takehiro had spent his recent days resting. They had sent out a call, requesting all able-bodied mercenaries meet at the center of the town. It seemed they were setting up some sort of competition to sort out the most skilled mercenaries, and each recruiter was willing to pay good money for some temporary alliances... this was something Takehiro couldn't turn down.

"All men who wish to be recruited must take part in this tournament, of sorts. The men who last the longest amount of bouts will be considered worth the largest sum on gold. All who will answer this call, step forward. And, no weapons."

Takehiro was the first of the mercs to step forward and into a ring made only of bystanders. He had left his spear behind, as per request. Only a moment would pass by before another man stepped into the ring, who was slightly taller, and much bulkier than himself. "Well, big guy, may the best man win!"

The large man rushed Takehiro, looking to take hold of his arms and knee him in the stomach. The mercenary responded by ducking under the large man's hands, and falling to the side. His leg shot out, kicking the large man's other leg out from under him, knocking him onto his back. From there, Takehiro placed a knee to the man's side and took his wrist, pulling his arm out as much as he could, as well as twisting it. The man's wrist popped out of place, and Takehiro let him go.

That was one man down.

The large man scuttled away, whimpering at his injured wrist, and another man hopped in in his place. This new opponent was smaller, and he looked much more nimble. He charged Takehiro, feigning a right hook. Promptly, he through his weight to the left, cartwheeling around Takehiro and kicking him twice in the face, causing the mercenary to stumble backward a bit.

"Alright, you monkey fuck, show me what you got."

The man attempted the same tactic, and as he went for the cartwheel, Takehiro caught his legs, leaving him in a handstand. The man's face was met with a very forceful punt from Takehiro's foot, causing the man to soar forward as his legs were released, gravity adding some oomph and slamming him on the ground. While his opponent was floored, Takehiro raised his leg and sent it hammering into the man's spine. He let out a whimper, and crawled out of the ring.

Two men down, baby.

A third man entered the ring, of similar stature to Takehiro. The men even held themselves in a similar manner. Unlike the previous two men, he would not strike first. Takehiro would, in turn, step forward, his right foot behind his left, and sent a left power kick to the man's sternum. He caught the foot, aiming to twist Takehiro's ankle and offset his balance. However, the mercenary used this to his advantage, kicking of the ground with his free foot and wrapping it around the man's head, bringing him to the ground in a triangle choke. The man fought for a moment, but Takehiro kept him there until he was unconscious, promptly rolling back once the man stopped wiggling.

Three down? Boo yah.

Another three men would approach the ring, only to be knocked out by the merc who seemed to be building a very good reputation for himself with these recruiters. His constant victories even seemed to deter the other mercenaries assembled from continued to fight. Triumphant yet bruised, Takehiro took the victory as the mercenary with the most value in the town.

Awww yeah.

The more, the merrier!

I like your plan.