The inn was quiet, and very not-crowded. As a matter of fact, the only people in the wide welcoming room were the middle-aged couple at the counter who ran the homey inn, and one other who seemed to have just woken up.
He gave a mighty yawn and a stretch, arms up over his head as his back arched a bit, before he tiredly rubbed his eyes with one hand as his other scratched the back of his head.
Kanto just wasn't a morning person. Which would explain why he was just now waking up, in the middle of the afternoon.
He had just come down the stairs that led to the rooms on the second floor, and the couple gave him a curteous bow, followed by a "Good morning sir."
Kanto gave them his characteristic grin, though the edges were a bit lagging with sleep.
Kanto's appearance almost forced one to at least cast a glance his way. He was a fairly tall individual, nearly six feet, and well built, with plenty of muscle mass. However, he was not bulky, for no matter how much he trained and fought (which he did alot of), his genetics simply would not let him get too beefy. He was thankful for that.
His hair was a stark white, but not from age. As a matter of fact, he looked quite young, somewhere in his twenties. His hair had always been white, and while the front was cut somewhat short, near ear length, the back was longer and held in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His skin was quite fair, though it's coloring was lightly tanned, and perhaps an explination would be the slightly pointed ears he bore. Obviously, he was not all human.
But perhaps it was his clothing and weapons that caused one to stare the most. He wore black jeans that tucked into the tops of his heavy black boots. His shirt was tight and blood red, though it was partially covered by the black jacket he wore. At the moment he wore no gloves, but sometimes he did, when wielding the massive weapon at his back.
It was a huge sword, quite over six feet, and probably about a foot wide. Both sides were sharpened to a deadly point, and because of it's length, it sat askew on his back, so as not to drag on the floor.
Always the friendly one, the blue-eyed man gave a polite little wave to the woman as she rushed in before he plopped down on one of the rustic couches, long legs crossing at the ankle as he stretched out. Somehow, in that few seconds before he sat, he had whiped that huge sword off his back and rested it against the couch right beside him.
He might come off as lazy right about now...
