The Kagemusha.
Shadow Warriors.
A coalition of gladiators and heroes alike, exiled from our respective lands and united under a new banner; through battle we had become something of a family. Not your typical family, mind you, as ours was a bond forged through the blood of others. Every stronghold we besieged, fell. Every foe, humiliated. By the Gods, we were good at what we did; until 'peace' arrived.
With Apollyon's death, the drums of war had quieted. The battlefields were no longer places of worship - temples of steel and fury - but carrion-picked graveyards where rusted blades were the only grave-markers of the fallen. So, begrudgingly, we became peacekeepers; wardens of a new dawn. Though some initially objected, our honor-bound family remained whole.
"We should've died on the battlefield," Lady Nakano lamented, looking over the flourishing rice paddies that stretched out over green hills, "what a dishonor."
She leaned into her nodachi like a crutch and grimaced disdainfully at the sight; her beauty only matched by a fierce temper. Life without unending war did not suit her; it was all she'd ever known. The good Lady hailed from a noble samurai clan and had long been groomed for greatness as a guardian warrior: a kensei. Her birthright was denied when the former Shogun arranged her clan's annihilation through a series of shameful assassinations. It was revenge that compelled her to form the Kagemusha in the first place, and revenge she'd earned by steel and strength. Now, she and her shadow warriors were without purpose; it drove the usually stoic woman mad. Nakano seemed increasingly irritated with our current assignment and it often took her longer than usual to prepare herself every morning as well. She'd never once griped or complained, until recently.
"Ah, you're in a good mood," You mocked playfully, twirling a chained kama in one hand. "You know, I never got to thank you; I'm a bit of an ass for taking so long. They told me you kept me warm for two days while I recovered from my injuries, after the battle for Ashfeld. I was as good as dead...so... thank you." Now that had been an unheard of situation: the commander so vulnerably offering her time and body. While the two of you had long been comrades, intimacy was – elusive.
"A regrettable decision in retrospect; don't speak of it," she blushed with embarrassment and turned her head before wincing slightly, taking a moment to fix the cuirass of her samurai armor, "what are we even doing here?"
"Getting paid for standing around, per usual. You alright, Nakano ? That there's an armorer back at Akatsui if you need something refitted–"
Such a simple suggestion seemed to fluster her to no end. The proud kensei erupting in a unexpected fit, "It's nothing! You're too damn nosy! What if I wasn't alright? Hmm? What would you do? Fucking–gah!" She mumbled beneath her breath, "they can't have grown this much since last time..." Her hair was a short ebony mess and trickles of sweat worked their way down her forehead.
"Nakano?"
"It's...it's nothing," she replied, snapping out of her reverie and turning to face you. "Just–" Interrupted by her own grimace, the flustered swordswoman attempted to adjust her tatami-breastplate but it snapped against frantic ministrations. Nakano's milk-soaked hitatare - or waistcoat - clung to her chest, engorged areola leaking terribly; her breasts seemed impossibly large.
"L-Lady Nakano?" You clumsily caught your swinging kama, nearly taking a finger off as dumbfounded awe began to set in; your commander was a lactating mess. Every breath was ragged and short as she panted like a bitch in heat.
"I just have to - Ah, agghh!" A failed attempt to shield her shame with the soiled kimono only managed to elicit a quivering cry as the swollen teats brushed against the fabric and released a few spurts of creamy dairy.