( Mika had wandered off himself, not particularly social, though he does not come upon Shinjiro immediately; he keeps to shadows and explores the grounds like an animal pacing its cage, testing its strange new confines and uneasy with the faint tension in the air. He isn't happy. But he doesn't think anything could make him happy, right now.
He's inevitably drawn to those back gardens, keeping along the shadowed path. It's unconscious at first, drawn by the scent of blood the way good cooking might draw someone to the window; until finally he's close enough, and he picks up on the acrid iron that comprises Shinji's scent— rather, the taste of his blood.
He doesn't hurry, though he can gauge this is a human's blood. He approaches with caution, should this be a dangerous scene; but he doesn't think the blood is gushing. (Is it?) Which just makes it... weird. It's just there.
The sight he stumbles onto doesn't illuminate his guess any. A hand on his sword in caution, remaining still in the shadows, Mika approaches with caution as he studies the likeliest cause of his apparent injuries. )
welcome party
He's inevitably drawn to those back gardens, keeping along the shadowed path. It's unconscious at first, drawn by the scent of blood the way good cooking might draw someone to the window; until finally he's close enough, and he picks up on the acrid iron that comprises Shinji's scent— rather, the taste of his blood.
He doesn't hurry, though he can gauge this is a human's blood. He approaches with caution, should this be a dangerous scene; but he doesn't think the blood is gushing. (Is it?) Which just makes it... weird. It's just there.
The sight he stumbles onto doesn't illuminate his guess any. A hand on his sword in caution, remaining still in the shadows, Mika approaches with caution as he studies the likeliest cause of his apparent injuries. )
... Did someone attack you here?
( Unfortunately, he doesn't ask out of concern. )