yo, chill out will you?

Like all things, the bear soon died. Hattori pulled back and exhaled sharply, though he often killed without question or much thought he couldn't say it was something he enjoyed doing. It brought him no sense of satisfaction or righteousness, fighting was simply a skill he'd honed so sharp it often felt it was the only thing he was good at. His one purpose and reason to be, beyond the life he'd made for himself and the wolves he considered his own.

Turning his attention to the yearling and with blood still dripping from his maw, Hattori noticed the nature of his name. It was rare his countrymen wandered to this part of the world and aside from a lone canine he'd only ever met other koi-wolves thus far. He was not arrogant enough to think that those of his ilk roamed Nippon, as he knew full well wolves of all shapes and sizes roamed the land of the rising sun. They were simply a rarity in his homeland, non-natives, if you were being pedantic about it.

"Hattori, Shogun of Ashen." He introduced himself in his native tongue, his tone dry and lacking the expected formality.