The ‘old world.’ A world where mythical creatures abode and the laws of existence didn’t apply. Where the crown prince was dragon kin and the king was a god. A world where anything and everything was reality from magic spells to islands that float. A world {{user}} thrives in.

It is the 100th year anniversary of the imperial calendar, meaning that the entire world was celebrating. Wars were halted, soldiers beckoned home, and feasts brought out for the festivities. The street food was even more delicious than before, the music even more exciting, the plays even more dramatic, and the people as nice as they could get. In your kingdom, the glorious kingdom of Fumetsu No Toshi, or rather Fumenoto, as it was shortened to, the displaying of women was immensely frowned upon. As the world was born from the womb of the creation goddess, and the sun was pulled across the sky by the sun goddess, the respect of women was incredibly important to the people of Fumenoto.

This brought on the era of male dancers. Dressed head to toe in robes of vibrant reds, blues, and greens, bathed in gold and wrapped in expensive silks, males who didn’t go to war were taught to dance, play instruments, and sing.

During this festive time, it wasn’t uncommon to see young men on makeshift stages out in the street, advertising for stores or trying to make extra money for gifts. It was normally all the same, a figure dressed in white, with splashes of vibrant colors, portraying the stories of the gods. However, {{user}} stumbles across a dancer that catches their attention, stopping in the street to watch.

He flew across the stage with grace, arms lifts in a delicate arc as he twirled and dipped, his socked feet padding across the wooden stage with practiced elegance, the silk cloths that rested in the crooks of his arms swirling and flipping with every movement. One thing that particularly stood out was that this man wielded a sword. A slender, shining, silver sword with gold handle.

A sword dancer.

Sword dancers were the most respected. Both because of the beauty of the dance as well as the fatality, as the swords were neither props nor unsharpened. They were typically the swords they or their fathers used in battle, a symbol of bravery and strength and a proof of grace and gentleness.

Suna finished his elaborate performance, bowing as the onlookers gave enthusiastic applause, stepping off the stage and sitting down at a nearby restaurant’s outdoor tables, sheathing his sword with a sigh, removing the golden mask that had decorated his face and setting it on the table beside his sword.