5tar
Inactive Member
Kyoto - Samurai House
The seasons changed since Sumaru had arrived back to Kyoto. The city changed from the colourful season of autumn where the trees wore their most colourful kimono one last time for all to see. Then, they shed their leaves to the ground, to sleep until warmth of the season of new life. It was time now of the snowflakes, anko nabe and frozen breath lingering in the air. The days passed by faster than they ever had before, as he spent his time in the capitol.
Sumaru hadn’t seen much of his charge, only periodically checking in on her while she was at school, and then accompanying her to her stay, with little much of any words at all, trusting the other samurai to watch her as he honed his skills at the Samurai House. It had been a while since his last stay, but he was much more grown up since his peers and teachers had last seen him. Something about the male Neko seemed more refined, perhaps his life’s mask frozen over his features that made him seem more adult. Carrying burdens well beyond his age and a heart cast deep in his battle forged exterior, it was no surprise he turned out how he did.
This day he had had finally decided he had fine-tuned his new bushi “Nagareboshi,” as far as it would go without the fires of true combat.
So now he found himself doing what he did often since his arrival, playing his new shamisen. He was alone in a room far from the rest of the complex; the doors wide open to the frozen lake before him, pouring out his thoughts and feelings in a fluid stream of notes and cords, the three-stringed instrument seemed to sing a tale of sorrow and frustration, yet the player seemed none of the two. Those blue eyes as frosty as the air around the household just seemed to look far beyond the castle walls — into another realm of memory and thought in serious concentration. His nimble fingers swiftly moved over the slender neck of the instrument, playing out his lament as the other hand moved with rapid purpose with the banchi gripped under thumb.
Braving the snow to listen to a freak of Nekovalkyrja kind, let alone within the ranks of the Samurai, was not something Yuri or Kei had counted on doing. They were ordered to so, to practice their resistance to the cold, meaning they had to stand in the snow naked and invisible. They did as ordered, however. Yuri did so with a lot of telepathic whining. Kei kept her mental mouth closed, occasionally responding with a grunt.
"He is melodramatic to the hilt," Yuri sent. "Look at him, crying through the instrument. Pining for her. He is pathetic."
Kei kept watching anyway. He did look pathetic, she was willing to admit that. She did not understand the emotions, as she had never felt love or sorrow or loss. Not like he was feeling them, she guessed. Her ears did droop a little; the music was very sad.
Yuri looked at her "sister" through the lightly falling snow. "You feel pity for him, don't you. That is why Kōsuka-sensei will not give you your aoi-no-hakama."
"She will not give them to me because YOU had to earn us demerits by staining that trainee's robes in yellow! And push her into the snow, and tell her, 'Now you are the yellow in the yellow snow!'"
Yuri turned the other way, watching the area behind the frozen lake.
The last note was strung, lingering the last of his emotions in the air. But he wasn't finished there, not yet. His eyes came back to life as they focused on the strange breaks in the snowfall far across the lake just in the center of his view. He had an audience, thus his true feelings retreated far back in past his fingertips. However, Sumaru had set this time aside for playing his instrument and allowing his mind to meditate with the music.
Another cord echoed across the open lake, much harder than the ones before. Leading into a section of speedily played notes, musically linking into a tune of practice, emotionlessly cording out a series of traditional sounding movements, only much faster, inhumanly faster. His brow twitched and he concentrated harder, now it was a battle, the story changed dramatically from a form of repetition to a story of swords and warriors. He voiced out a 'huya' battle-cry and the music worked up to an exciting apex, faster and faster, until an abrupt stop.
The male samurai was gone, the instrument slowly fell to the pillow he was sitting on, but the body that was there was missing.
Kei froze, and not from the temperature. She had been watching his fingers masterfully attack the strings with the pick, amazed by how fast he moved. It was very impressive; after all, how often did she see shamisen playing like this? Then the music stopped and he was gone!
"Where did he go?" Yuri asked, her tone suggesting how puckered her lips were at the development of their subject disappearing. "He must be hungry."
Kei did not believe that for a moment. Had he looked up at the last second? Maybe before? The young samurai looked around her, keeping her body still and looking through her skin.
That's when she saw the blind spots from the piled-up snow.
"Yuri! The snow!" Kei spun in place and floated a few centimetres above the air, taking up a ready fighting stance.
"What snow?" Kei looked at Yuri — where Yuri was supposed to be! She was gone too, abandoning her to her fate!
"YURI!" Kei's telepathic shout was met with mocking laughter. No! The cold suddenly became much less of an issue for the young journeywoman. She closed her eyes and focused her other senses on finding someone, anyone.
It would be easy to spot either one of them, after two large balls of snow pelted both of the trainees, they seem to come from higher up then they would have expected. A robed male Neko stood atop of the tree closest to them, palming another two snowballs. "Show yourselves;" he commanded, tossing one of the projectiles up in his hand.
Yuri failed to obey, likely to escape confrontation and/or punishment. Though she was pelted with snow, it was easy enough for her to clear the bottom of the tree she was hiding under and fly higher into the air. The snow might still hit her, she reasoned, but she wouldn't stay in one place for too long.
Of course, Kei looked down, ashamed, but still shut off her invisibility, looking up to face the Samurai. Her fists were clenched at her sides; Kōsuka-sensei would very likely punish her for being spotted.
Sumaru stepped off the branch and slowly floated down to the snow, his feet only just skimming the top without breaking the surface. "One is not usually without the other," he stated as he glanced up into the sky. "Perhaps you should return, lest your sensei finds out about this," he telepathically sent to Yuri, knowing all too well that Kei's partner in crime wouldn't be too far. He smirked slightly, and simply crossed his arms before turning to look back at Kei. "The very same thing that you use to project clothes on your body also projects falling snow where there is none," he said sagely. "Your sensei would see to it that you two would have to work harder on this, and maybe more," he paused and waited to see if Yuri was going to return and join them or continue her charade.
"Hai, O-Samurai," Kei said stiffly, bowing the same way. "I apologize for intruding on your meditation. We will strive to do better next time, O-Samurai."
Yuri's apology involved being nowhere in the vicinity. Kei was left to fend for herself. "Your music, was very, um, nice, O-Samurai," Kei lamely added.
Sumaru didn't really know how to take the complement, other than to nod at it. He didn't really think of the music as it was meant to be. To him it was a tool for training his mind and his dexterity. "Don't worry about me, I was more so interested to see whom was out here. I didn't plan on needing to punish anyone," he paused once more and looked skyward, "however Yuri-kōhai seems to need more cold resistance training. I'll see to it that Kōsuka-san hears about it, and suggest to her that Yuri should go through the process I was given, and have to do it under the waterfall in much colder weather." He shrugged first, then turned around and bowed slightly to Kei. "You may return to your regimen, it's good to see that you're both working so hard."
Kei bowed deeper, having not risen. Without her invisibility on, she felt self-conscious, especially since it was a male who was looking at her. "Yuri-san was returning to another duty as you hit her with a snowball, O-Samurai. She's blameless." The lie was a bald one, but Kei could not let Yuri take a punishment she didn't deserve. After all, she hadn't revealed herself.
"Kōsuka-sensei is teaching us the ways of the Stealth Sentinel, so that we might someday directly protect the Mistress Yui-sama," she added.
The male samurai smiled a little, finding it admirable that she would cover for her friend. Deciding perhaps that it would work itself out, he just let it go past him. "Oh, so it was Yuri," he said, absolutely uncovering the truth now in that slip of words. He chuckled, "Worry not, I wasn't planning on telling Kōsuka-san anyway. However, like I said before. If you concentrate more on being aware of your surroundings, you can let your mind take what it sees outside of your skin and allow it to become your form, thus hiding yourself better than before--- It can also can create clothing when being talked to by a sempai," he laughed a little as he saw the blush on her cheeks.
"Well I should let you get back to your training, I shall not hold back Yui-sama's esteemed future guardian. May Yuumi's spirit watch over you," he closed with another head bow. He then turned as to leave, relaxing an arm over the hilts of his swords.
Kei sadly could believe she forgot to synthesize the appearance of clothes, which she immediately did upon being reminded. "Wait, O-Samurai!" she called. "Is she ... is she well? I did not know her, but your song sounded very sad. As if she had died."
A passing cold winter breeze caught the samurai's robes as he stood still, silent for a long few moments. He didn't turn around, but instead looked up to the clouds high up blowing through the sora above. "She is alive and very well," he paused, "she however is not the one I was playing about." With that he continued on his way, eyes cast back towards the ground in quiet contemplation.
"Ha — ahh. I see. I did not realize." Kei hung her head, feeling the cold creep up her back in a most unpleasant fashion. He had met someone new? Someone better than a princess? She had a hard time believing that, but ... he said she wasn't the one he was playing about! What else could it be. "I apologize, O-Samurai. I, ah, will not keep you further. Excuse me."
He turned to look at the confused face of the samurai youth, and couldn't help but laugh. At least she brought a smile to his face. "It's not a woman at all, I play my own sadness and confusion. Even those who have mastered a thousand techniques, still needs to control their own heart, which makes the hardest battle the one you will fight with yourself." He turned back and shook his head, "perhaps one day you too will understand. But for your sake I hope you will never have to fight such a hopeless battle," he smirked and then looked back at the lake, just to keep an eye out for her partner in crime.
Kei blinked. "Oh. Oh! Oh my." Now the young Samurai journeywoman put on a blush that inadvertently turned her projected clothing a bit more red. "I am — I, I did not understand — excuse my rudeness," she stammered. "I, I will follow your advice, O-Samurai, without failure. Thank you for your teachings!"
Yuri, who was indeed much closer than Kei or the Samurai could see, had to swallow her cackles. The hilarity of it all! The silly abomination acting like some brave but wounded soldier, releasing his anguish through beautiful song! And Kei swallowed it all! Yuri wanted to bean the Neko with a chunk of ice. How foolish. She would never get her aoi-no-hakama back at the rate she stumbled about life.
She kept watching from the roof of the House Sumaru had his room in. Yuri at least was wise enough to pay attention to his tactical instruction, and she was masking herself by replicating the snow.
"As for your dear friend, take care of her, because the two of you will find out much later how valuable that friendship really is," he said, still scanning the horizon. "Also tell her that she learns fast," he said with a chuckle. Then in that instant, he simply disappeared as quickly as he had when he appeared. Though perhaps a little more evidence laid in his wake, as he didn't really go invisible, but instead move blindingly fast, a simple step mastered in his bushi.
Kei did not leave her bow, but replied in the affirmative. She finally looked up, and seeing he was gone, she looked around for Yuri. "Where are you?!" she cried. "You're safe already, so come out and don't let me face Kōsuka-sensei alone!"
Yuri replied with a telepathic chortle. "No chance. I am hidden and will stay so as long as I must! You can feel free to return to the Honored Teacher for your toilet brush!"
Kei wanted to swear and curse and beat the hell out of her supposed "dear friend." However, she remembered her teacher's lessons, and focused the energy instead on her future tasks, which were likely to involve toilet brushes anyway. She left the area near Lake House and returned to the central campus.
The seasons changed since Sumaru had arrived back to Kyoto. The city changed from the colourful season of autumn where the trees wore their most colourful kimono one last time for all to see. Then, they shed their leaves to the ground, to sleep until warmth of the season of new life. It was time now of the snowflakes, anko nabe and frozen breath lingering in the air. The days passed by faster than they ever had before, as he spent his time in the capitol.
Sumaru hadn’t seen much of his charge, only periodically checking in on her while she was at school, and then accompanying her to her stay, with little much of any words at all, trusting the other samurai to watch her as he honed his skills at the Samurai House. It had been a while since his last stay, but he was much more grown up since his peers and teachers had last seen him. Something about the male Neko seemed more refined, perhaps his life’s mask frozen over his features that made him seem more adult. Carrying burdens well beyond his age and a heart cast deep in his battle forged exterior, it was no surprise he turned out how he did.
This day he had had finally decided he had fine-tuned his new bushi “Nagareboshi,” as far as it would go without the fires of true combat.
So now he found himself doing what he did often since his arrival, playing his new shamisen. He was alone in a room far from the rest of the complex; the doors wide open to the frozen lake before him, pouring out his thoughts and feelings in a fluid stream of notes and cords, the three-stringed instrument seemed to sing a tale of sorrow and frustration, yet the player seemed none of the two. Those blue eyes as frosty as the air around the household just seemed to look far beyond the castle walls — into another realm of memory and thought in serious concentration. His nimble fingers swiftly moved over the slender neck of the instrument, playing out his lament as the other hand moved with rapid purpose with the banchi gripped under thumb.
Braving the snow to listen to a freak of Nekovalkyrja kind, let alone within the ranks of the Samurai, was not something Yuri or Kei had counted on doing. They were ordered to so, to practice their resistance to the cold, meaning they had to stand in the snow naked and invisible. They did as ordered, however. Yuri did so with a lot of telepathic whining. Kei kept her mental mouth closed, occasionally responding with a grunt.
"He is melodramatic to the hilt," Yuri sent. "Look at him, crying through the instrument. Pining for her. He is pathetic."
Kei kept watching anyway. He did look pathetic, she was willing to admit that. She did not understand the emotions, as she had never felt love or sorrow or loss. Not like he was feeling them, she guessed. Her ears did droop a little; the music was very sad.
Yuri looked at her "sister" through the lightly falling snow. "You feel pity for him, don't you. That is why Kōsuka-sensei will not give you your aoi-no-hakama."
"She will not give them to me because YOU had to earn us demerits by staining that trainee's robes in yellow! And push her into the snow, and tell her, 'Now you are the yellow in the yellow snow!'"
Yuri turned the other way, watching the area behind the frozen lake.
The last note was strung, lingering the last of his emotions in the air. But he wasn't finished there, not yet. His eyes came back to life as they focused on the strange breaks in the snowfall far across the lake just in the center of his view. He had an audience, thus his true feelings retreated far back in past his fingertips. However, Sumaru had set this time aside for playing his instrument and allowing his mind to meditate with the music.
Another cord echoed across the open lake, much harder than the ones before. Leading into a section of speedily played notes, musically linking into a tune of practice, emotionlessly cording out a series of traditional sounding movements, only much faster, inhumanly faster. His brow twitched and he concentrated harder, now it was a battle, the story changed dramatically from a form of repetition to a story of swords and warriors. He voiced out a 'huya' battle-cry and the music worked up to an exciting apex, faster and faster, until an abrupt stop.
The male samurai was gone, the instrument slowly fell to the pillow he was sitting on, but the body that was there was missing.
Kei froze, and not from the temperature. She had been watching his fingers masterfully attack the strings with the pick, amazed by how fast he moved. It was very impressive; after all, how often did she see shamisen playing like this? Then the music stopped and he was gone!
"Where did he go?" Yuri asked, her tone suggesting how puckered her lips were at the development of their subject disappearing. "He must be hungry."
Kei did not believe that for a moment. Had he looked up at the last second? Maybe before? The young samurai looked around her, keeping her body still and looking through her skin.
That's when she saw the blind spots from the piled-up snow.
"Yuri! The snow!" Kei spun in place and floated a few centimetres above the air, taking up a ready fighting stance.
"What snow?" Kei looked at Yuri — where Yuri was supposed to be! She was gone too, abandoning her to her fate!
"YURI!" Kei's telepathic shout was met with mocking laughter. No! The cold suddenly became much less of an issue for the young journeywoman. She closed her eyes and focused her other senses on finding someone, anyone.
It would be easy to spot either one of them, after two large balls of snow pelted both of the trainees, they seem to come from higher up then they would have expected. A robed male Neko stood atop of the tree closest to them, palming another two snowballs. "Show yourselves;" he commanded, tossing one of the projectiles up in his hand.
Yuri failed to obey, likely to escape confrontation and/or punishment. Though she was pelted with snow, it was easy enough for her to clear the bottom of the tree she was hiding under and fly higher into the air. The snow might still hit her, she reasoned, but she wouldn't stay in one place for too long.
Of course, Kei looked down, ashamed, but still shut off her invisibility, looking up to face the Samurai. Her fists were clenched at her sides; Kōsuka-sensei would very likely punish her for being spotted.
Sumaru stepped off the branch and slowly floated down to the snow, his feet only just skimming the top without breaking the surface. "One is not usually without the other," he stated as he glanced up into the sky. "Perhaps you should return, lest your sensei finds out about this," he telepathically sent to Yuri, knowing all too well that Kei's partner in crime wouldn't be too far. He smirked slightly, and simply crossed his arms before turning to look back at Kei. "The very same thing that you use to project clothes on your body also projects falling snow where there is none," he said sagely. "Your sensei would see to it that you two would have to work harder on this, and maybe more," he paused and waited to see if Yuri was going to return and join them or continue her charade.
"Hai, O-Samurai," Kei said stiffly, bowing the same way. "I apologize for intruding on your meditation. We will strive to do better next time, O-Samurai."
Yuri's apology involved being nowhere in the vicinity. Kei was left to fend for herself. "Your music, was very, um, nice, O-Samurai," Kei lamely added.
Sumaru didn't really know how to take the complement, other than to nod at it. He didn't really think of the music as it was meant to be. To him it was a tool for training his mind and his dexterity. "Don't worry about me, I was more so interested to see whom was out here. I didn't plan on needing to punish anyone," he paused once more and looked skyward, "however Yuri-kōhai seems to need more cold resistance training. I'll see to it that Kōsuka-san hears about it, and suggest to her that Yuri should go through the process I was given, and have to do it under the waterfall in much colder weather." He shrugged first, then turned around and bowed slightly to Kei. "You may return to your regimen, it's good to see that you're both working so hard."
Kei bowed deeper, having not risen. Without her invisibility on, she felt self-conscious, especially since it was a male who was looking at her. "Yuri-san was returning to another duty as you hit her with a snowball, O-Samurai. She's blameless." The lie was a bald one, but Kei could not let Yuri take a punishment she didn't deserve. After all, she hadn't revealed herself.
"Kōsuka-sensei is teaching us the ways of the Stealth Sentinel, so that we might someday directly protect the Mistress Yui-sama," she added.
The male samurai smiled a little, finding it admirable that she would cover for her friend. Deciding perhaps that it would work itself out, he just let it go past him. "Oh, so it was Yuri," he said, absolutely uncovering the truth now in that slip of words. He chuckled, "Worry not, I wasn't planning on telling Kōsuka-san anyway. However, like I said before. If you concentrate more on being aware of your surroundings, you can let your mind take what it sees outside of your skin and allow it to become your form, thus hiding yourself better than before--- It can also can create clothing when being talked to by a sempai," he laughed a little as he saw the blush on her cheeks.
"Well I should let you get back to your training, I shall not hold back Yui-sama's esteemed future guardian. May Yuumi's spirit watch over you," he closed with another head bow. He then turned as to leave, relaxing an arm over the hilts of his swords.
Kei sadly could believe she forgot to synthesize the appearance of clothes, which she immediately did upon being reminded. "Wait, O-Samurai!" she called. "Is she ... is she well? I did not know her, but your song sounded very sad. As if she had died."
A passing cold winter breeze caught the samurai's robes as he stood still, silent for a long few moments. He didn't turn around, but instead looked up to the clouds high up blowing through the sora above. "She is alive and very well," he paused, "she however is not the one I was playing about." With that he continued on his way, eyes cast back towards the ground in quiet contemplation.
"Ha — ahh. I see. I did not realize." Kei hung her head, feeling the cold creep up her back in a most unpleasant fashion. He had met someone new? Someone better than a princess? She had a hard time believing that, but ... he said she wasn't the one he was playing about! What else could it be. "I apologize, O-Samurai. I, ah, will not keep you further. Excuse me."
He turned to look at the confused face of the samurai youth, and couldn't help but laugh. At least she brought a smile to his face. "It's not a woman at all, I play my own sadness and confusion. Even those who have mastered a thousand techniques, still needs to control their own heart, which makes the hardest battle the one you will fight with yourself." He turned back and shook his head, "perhaps one day you too will understand. But for your sake I hope you will never have to fight such a hopeless battle," he smirked and then looked back at the lake, just to keep an eye out for her partner in crime.
Kei blinked. "Oh. Oh! Oh my." Now the young Samurai journeywoman put on a blush that inadvertently turned her projected clothing a bit more red. "I am — I, I did not understand — excuse my rudeness," she stammered. "I, I will follow your advice, O-Samurai, without failure. Thank you for your teachings!"
Yuri, who was indeed much closer than Kei or the Samurai could see, had to swallow her cackles. The hilarity of it all! The silly abomination acting like some brave but wounded soldier, releasing his anguish through beautiful song! And Kei swallowed it all! Yuri wanted to bean the Neko with a chunk of ice. How foolish. She would never get her aoi-no-hakama back at the rate she stumbled about life.
She kept watching from the roof of the House Sumaru had his room in. Yuri at least was wise enough to pay attention to his tactical instruction, and she was masking herself by replicating the snow.
"As for your dear friend, take care of her, because the two of you will find out much later how valuable that friendship really is," he said, still scanning the horizon. "Also tell her that she learns fast," he said with a chuckle. Then in that instant, he simply disappeared as quickly as he had when he appeared. Though perhaps a little more evidence laid in his wake, as he didn't really go invisible, but instead move blindingly fast, a simple step mastered in his bushi.
Kei did not leave her bow, but replied in the affirmative. She finally looked up, and seeing he was gone, she looked around for Yuri. "Where are you?!" she cried. "You're safe already, so come out and don't let me face Kōsuka-sensei alone!"
Yuri replied with a telepathic chortle. "No chance. I am hidden and will stay so as long as I must! You can feel free to return to the Honored Teacher for your toilet brush!"
Kei wanted to swear and curse and beat the hell out of her supposed "dear friend." However, she remembered her teacher's lessons, and focused the energy instead on her future tasks, which were likely to involve toilet brushes anyway. She left the area near Lake House and returned to the central campus.