It was Japanese, Yukimura could tell that much— but it was something more like what he remembered reading about in books. Even this was too old fashioned and rural for what he might consider his time. When he tried to think about why he was here, his mind told him it didn't matter, and if it didn't matter, then the thought slipped away as if it never existed in the first place.
He just knew he felt out of place, somehow.
He looked down at himself and his hands, and his clothes feel "the same" as they should be - a school suit uniform, save the shoes, a pair of waraji tied to his feet instead of the shoes that should be there. But again, the why of the situation slipped away as fast as it might have come. The woman drew his attention, and as he looked up at her, he blinked. "I... don't know what I'm looking for. Do most people arrive here to look for the Medicine Seller?"
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He just knew he felt out of place, somehow.
He looked down at himself and his hands, and his clothes feel "the same" as they should be - a school suit uniform, save the shoes, a pair of waraji tied to his feet instead of the shoes that should be there. But again, the why of the situation slipped away as fast as it might have come. The woman drew his attention, and as he looked up at her, he blinked. "I... don't know what I'm looking for. Do most people arrive here to look for the Medicine Seller?"