2025-11-29: Enter Gin-kun
- Log: Enter Gin-kun
- Cast: Yua Ooshiro, Shiryuu Ryouhara
- Where: Aoba Park
- OOC Date: 2025-11-29
- IC Date: Sat, Aug 18 2012
- Summary: Yua learns that Shiryuu isn't just terrifying: he's a VERY NICE YOUNG MAN. Shiryuu completely doesn't understand the mom hormones which have led her to regarding him much more fondly, but he is trying to make peace with her... and not just to congratulate her. Both of their eyes are cursed, in their own ways -- and Shiryuu seeks Yua's powers for a future endeavour, paid for with his protection going forward. He may even survive working with a theatrical woman like Yua! Maybe. Also, he has a gift for the baby: a silver kitsune plush called Gin-kun, who, as it happens, can reassure moms just as well.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
It's a pleasant Saturday morning, and Yua's just seen Miho off to work, because they're making her work Saturday now to make up for the time she took off yesterday. (Yua doesn't know just how unfair that is.) The sun is new in the sky -- it couldn't be much later than seven in the morning -- and Yua...
Yua has her own health to attend to.
Sachie Chiba looks like a member of the Yakuza with all her tattoos -- but she couldn't be; she's a she. Instead, she is Yua's home health nurse, who does such important tasks as taking Yua out to Aoba Park so that she can touch grass and get some light exercise. "How are the new pills workin'?" She asks, as she walks with her, offering Yua her arm to steady herself as they go. "You get through breakfast okay...?"
"It's much better with the pills," Yua smiles up to her -- because Sachie is a full five-foot-eight, which wouldn't be weird for a man but is strikingly tall for a woman. (The trick is that HRT doesn't really do much for pre-established bone growth.) "But I haven't been sleeping very well... I keep having to get up... you know," she sighs, with a touch of embarrassment.
"That sort of thing will happen as you get more of some of them hormones in your body," Sachie says, "but you'll adapt. And until then, those hormones aren't all bad. I'll give you an information sheet on them," she assures her, because of course she wouldn't want to fluster Yua out in public.
"Well, that's good news," Yua smiles. "Ah... I think I need to sit down a moment..."
Luckily, there are benches everywhere in Aoba Park, so it's not hard for Yua to sit herself down. She's in her usual leotard... though, notably, her shoes are actual boots with ankle support, and she's wearing compression socks.
"How ya goin'?" Sachie asks, looking her over. "You look a little flushed... want me to go get you some water?"
"That would be great," Yua smiles, to her.
And so, the world's most tattooed home health nurse sets off down the path, to go grab some bottles of water from the nearest vending machine...
... of course, the nearest vending machine's a bit of a hike, which means Yua's going to be sitting alone in the park for a little while.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"...yo."
It's too fucking early.
It's worth noting that Shiryuu is a night owl with sleeping problems. Moreso of late -- between the council, his side investigation, and that supernatural bag-head's antics, the onmitsu's been running the sequencers harder than racehorses in JRA. All of this to say that he's got a lot to keep track of and not a lot of time to do it in. Consequently, that leaves the boy sprawled across the bench roughly ten or fifteen feet to Yua's left, looking sorely like he needs a nap.
"There's something about your girl that attracts the lost ... I suppose it'd be safe to guess," the onmitsu notes, looking after the direction Sachie left. He doesn't know her name, but it's not hard to tell that a lady with that many tattoos would be all but a social pariah in today's -polite- -society.- Shiryuu sucks his teeth idly in annoyance at the thought, raising a lip in tight musing.
The boy has his hands stuffed in his pockets as he slides a little lower in the bench in a forlorn attempt to get comfortable. He's hanging halfway out, sitting on it only in the most technical of definitions. He's all but swimming in that huge haori he wears, and his neck barely raises above the backside of the old wrought iron accents. Hands jammed in pockets for warmth, his hair is little more than a silver explosion of haphazard styling. Ostensibly there is a style to it. If 'fuck this morning' was a style.
A Converse wags, heels dug into the grass a little ways. He does look for all intents and purposes like he's been trying to nap on the bench for hours now, though it is absolutely clear he wasn't there not even five minutes ago. He clearly jumped out of a jogger's pocket on their way past. Or something. Boy is too fast for his own good.
"At least your boy looks good on the television..."
He's referring to the announcement. Kiria, being the one who watches most of the daytime television these days, was _extremely excited._ That was... what? A week ago now?
But that's not all that's happened.
"ehhhh." Shiryuu sighs, sword-long and slow.
Taking a hand from a pocket, he lifts a cup from the bench. It was sitting on the other side of him, a paper affair with a straw, and an advertisement about melon cream soda on the side. A small, airy sound as he drinks. He does not seem happy about it, and breathes out after.
"...So, listen. I guess I'm a little late... sorry about that."
Late for what?
Even when he intends to, Shiryuu is bad at explaining things.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
Yo--?!
Yua squeaks, as she looks over to the next bench on the way, now occupied by -- the world's most exhausted ninja?! Shiryuu terrifies Yua, of course, but...
"Gracious," she clasps her hands to her chest, from where they'd flown up to cover her mouth. "A--are you well? You look..."
Exhausted? Dishevelled? Roadkill-esque?
"... out of sorts?"
Yua, frustratingly, looks perfectly well put-together in the morning. She was up at five am and she considers that casual.
She wonders, to herself, whether Miho really attracts the Lost... but what other word could she use to describe herself or Remi, anyway? "Um, well... Mimi's someone who defends people like us," she explains, after a moment. "But Sachie-san is the only one who passed her employment interview, since she doesn't make me do anything... like a lot of doctors and stuff do. Though, she's a nurse, those aren't so bad..."
Yua presumes that he just -- appeared on the bench. She doesn't detect any use of the Mark, but maybe his is even weirder than hers and it's undetectable and she wouldn't know! But he really kind of looks like he's just -- oozing off of that thing.
He's still quite young, she reflects, to herself. Even if he is terrifying...
"O--oh," Yua smiles, though it's a touch thin, when he references the television. "So you heard...? T-thank you... he is a very charismatic man. The--the Ijuuins all have a force of presence about them, you know...?"
Yua turns, on the bench, so that she can face Shiryuu a little more properly, her feet crossing at the ankles. In any case, she reasons, to herself, he wouldn't mean her any harm here. Surely he'd leap out of an alleyway at night if that's what he intended...? There's a jogger going past right now! And a girl walking her dog! So many witnesses.
"Um..." Yua folds her hands in her lap, tilting her head as her one good eye blinks at him. "... why are you late?"
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
_roadkill._
He can hear the polite implication. Shiryuu, who prides himself on being immaculately put together with intention, can read between the lines just as good as anyone else, and the notion that he's anything less than impressively untucked sends the young man on an aloof spree with his cup, aggressively sipping melon cream soda until he hits a patch of ice and the entire cup turns into an airy vuvuzela of doom. It takes him a minute to get hydrated (?) enough to deal with that. Even if he gives the cup a bitter look every so often.
"...yeah," Shiryuu replies, without explaining the frowning shade of glum that goes along with that response. "I'm ...fine."
It really is too fucking early. What is it with the organization and all their overachieving morning people?
'Mimi defends people like us.' "I'm ...glad."
Even at his least, the young man does seem to lock into a particular rhythm in the way he speaks. But his second affectation is stripped of the little shade of sour that goes along with the morning and everything in it, a plain statement made without pretense or hint of other motive. His eyes half-lid, as he settles into his seat more comfortably.
"Our eyes are everywhere," he repeats, a notion from a moon ago. "It's to be expected that we'd know." The notion is recontextualized. Before, it was a dangerous warning. Here, in the daylight, with a dog walker and his Shiba-Inu not even a stone's throw away, it's just a statement of the obvious. "Especially with the Ijuuin clan being involved."
"Some crows told me they're a bigger deal than they let on," Shiryuu remarks, bristling subconsciously. "But, if I'd met 'her' first, I wouldn't have needed to write down the name."
"But you're earnest enough for all of them, I guess..."
The thought is toyed with absently, one of the only ones capable of putting Shiryuu on a different mien than 'upset about the morning and melon cream soda,' letting him mull in the moments after Yua asks him. The decision, when it comes, is swift, two sharp sniffs, one after the other.
"--yeah, so. I meant to come by a few days ago, but, uh... I've been a little busy," he explains, as if that was what was being asked.
"We've got some business together, you and I, I think. First of which: I should wish you this: 'Con grat u lat ions.' The sun seems like it's shining on you. Rare times, I suppose.."
....slrrp.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
is --
is he sulking
Yua watches Shiryuu's aggressive aloofness with fascination, as she realises that oh her gods, the terrifying ninja assassin really is a teenager. And, well -- maybe it's the hormones, of which she is beset by so many. Maybe it's her general nesting vibe. Whatever it is --
This boy is RUFFLED and she wants to give him BREAKFAST?!
Besides, she heard the way he wasn't sulky when he was replying to Miho's feats, and that will go a long way.
(Yua, please, he's not SULKING, he's BITTER -- nope, it's no good, she's convinced.)
Still... of course he'd know. Of course they'd know. And, well -- Miho is involved with the Powers that Be, so what he says makes sense, doesn't it?
And then -- and then Shiryuu calls Yua earnest enough for all of them, and she giggles, a merry little noise veiled as it leaves her lips by her fingertips. (No nailpolish, right now. It might hurt the baby.) "Hee hee... I don't match the pattern, huh?" She asks, smiling. "Hey, does that mean... are you a history fan, too? Or do you just mean about the wealth they've gathered...?" Yua tilts her head, as she supposes, finger to her lip: "Well, the history would've helped them accrue all that wealth, too..."
Shiryuu shuffles around the point a little more, and Yua's head tilts the other way. "Hmm...?" She prompts him, before --
"Oh!!"
Yua smiles, sunnily, clasping her hands together at her lap again. "Thank you, Ryouhara-kun!" Oh no, he really is a teenager, he's getting hit with the -kun. "It's been a little challenging, but we expected it to be a difficult pregnancy, so I'm prepared. It's still very early days, but my ultrasound yesterday didn't show any troubles... so we're very hopeful!"
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
If Shiryuu is aware that he's currently being plotted against, he is not showing it. He's getting to grips with the end of the soda, as aggressed as he feels about everything being too much of a problem something cold is really the only way he's going to get relaxed again. He only seems to snap out of it once he runs out. Oh, shi-
"--ah, oof. Um. I was going to offer you some of this, but I guess it really wasn't that good, anyway. The street guy was out of pear juice. Seriously.."
That last 'seriously' had a bit of spice on it.
"Anyway, I mean, there's still some ice chips if you want. If, uh, it's good for... nevermind." The boy seems to lever off a touch when the appropriate rhythm is hit for the conversation, Yua's delight notwithstanding. He doesn't seem to know what to do about that, so he tames his unruly feathered mop by shoving a hand through it and giving himself a spiky grey wave for the next forever.
"Yeah, some people are just -- mm." He doesn't finish his thought, for some reason, spinning hard into the next with the barest pause for breath. "I don't pay attention to all of it," he admits, history-wise. "But I'm told that it's important to mind the bloodlines. It's not like that, though."
It is very, devastatingly easy for him to talk about it. His tone gets tighter, smoother, calmer. "...meeting Ijuuin is different than hearing about her," he explains, after a moment. "There is a 'vibration' to a person, an incontrovertible energy that doesn't change. Unerring, unyielding, it finds its way into every heartbeat and every breath. 'Synthesis' is the recognition of vibration. It's something that you can't read a book about. I would have clocked her vibe immediately..."
"'She is important.' Right? mm.. Now, maybe not as important as..."
There's that unease again, as she goes on to tell him about her hope. The boy's shoulders shift, as if suddenly his clothes fit too tightly for his tastes. Ease only returns after a heartbeat or two, "....sorry, I'm not good at that kind of thing. I don't ... know what that's like."
He doesn't seem to want to specify, as the onmitsu looks down quietly. One sneaker lifts, crossing over the other ankle. A moment of quiet.
"...Aaa. Two more things," he says, raising one pinky finger, then one ring finger, then one middle finger, three in total, thumb folded over a curled finger.
"... I was going to say," he says after being distinctly knocked off-rhythm by her informal address and being forced to swallow a curse word before it ever comes into play. It's probably bad for the baby. "...that we should form a pact."
'-kun? this woman ... first the x, now ... i am at least a -sama,' is the little sotto voce murmur that follows, Shiryuu looking away pointedly as if of a keen mind to comment on the weather.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
"Don't worry one bit," Yua smiles, to Shiryuu. "Sachie-san's going to get me some water, so I'll be just fine! Besides... it seems like it's helping a little?"
Even if just by being a target for his frustrations.
"Ice chips sound lovely," she assures him, despite his awkward attempt to circumvent his thoughtfulness. Yua watches him run a hand through his hair, and thinks...
... she wishes she had a comb.
Still... people around him care about the history, she supposes. She's more interested to hear about Miho, though, tilting forward in her seat as she listens. "Mimi is special," Yua smiles, her expression positively glowing. (It helps that she's a little flushed all the time, these days. It's seriously way too hot --) "When I'm with her, I feel safe... she always knows what to do. When I'm scared, she calms me down... and she works really hard to support me." Shiryuu might be all tight turns and smooth acceleration, but Yua's voice is gentle and warm as she speaks of Miho's qualities; she brings her joy just by speaking of her. "When I make her smile, it's the most beautiful thing in the world..."
Yua takes a deep breath, and sighs a lovesick sigh, and it's just -- it's SACCHARINE, man.
"Ah... but please don't worry!" Yua shakes her head, her smile still warm. "You don't need to know about something like this yet... give yourself a little time! A young man like you would much prefer to hear about Mimi's saber feats, right...? That's perfectly normal!"
Sorry, Shiryuu. Yua has decided that most teenagers don't want to hear about the gory details of pregnancy, and that includes you.
Cursing Yua would be bad for the baby, though, yes.
She tilts her head, as she wonders: "What was that...?" He's MUMBLING how has she not realised how ADORABLE he is he's SO GRUMPY she wants to SEND HIM OFF FOR A NAP and then GET HIM SOME PROPER BREAKFAST --
Wait, hang on, he asked her something before he distracted her with his mumbling. "Anyway, ah -- what do you mean by a pact?" She wonders, her fingers tapping at the side of her hand. "It sounds like it's something important to you, but I'm afraid I'm rather unaware of the context... could you explain a little more, please?"
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
Shiryuu has been taught history. Arguably, he knows -much more- about the history of Japan than most people his age, but there remains an incontrovertible fact that he simply doesn't know everything. Of course, to someone like the onmitsu contractor, that obviously means he wasn't paying enough attention, and consequently might as well be dense about the entire subject.
Another thing he doesn't know about --
Shiryuu is wholly underprepared for the sheer emotion that is being projected in his general direction, and he is quiet as the grave as she explains to him what the weight of pure sunlight feels like on your shoulders. The boy's two-tone brown eyes, still half lidded, drag across the rim of his cup, fingertips smoothing over the condensation with a deep, pensive weight.
"...ah, is that so," Ryouhara asks, as if it was at all an adequate response to being told about the most beautiful thing in the world. There's the lightest gild of uncomfortable honesty in the question -- there is no undercurrent of resentment.
He doesn't say anything else, really, falling quiet for a long time, a single fingertip lifting from the surface of the cup ..and tapping once, twice. It's a little less than confused, and a little more than inattentive.
"...eh??" 'Give yourself a little time??' Shiryuu is jostled right out of whatever thought he had. "Tch. Don't misunderstand the situation," Shiryuu insists. He seems to be about to make a few more inferences, but the thought dies in the back of his throat.
"....eehh.." sigh.
"....Anyway. It wasn't important," the boy says, leaning over to dust off his knees before standing, unceremoniously stretching out his back to work out a kink, likely from being up all night slouched over in various chairs. He doesn't seem to want to explain himself. He's dealt with this from Kiria before. And Akabane. Who knows how difficult Yua will become if he presses the matter. Without being able to assert himself as shihaisha, there's no hope for the situation.
The onmitsu contractor moves eel-quick, but the first few steps are where he's most easily lost. One before the other, as the boy opens a hand, less darting and more meandering over in the way of the ballet instructor. "It's not serious, at least not in the way you'd first think," Shiryuu explains. "But, it is a matter of 'honor among thieves.' It's pretty simple. Outside of our mutual account's affairs, we're free to form agreements on our own... yeah."
A hand raises, to tap his temple. "So, I thought you might like to enter into an independent arrangement. With me. To bless your new 'bonds,' I was going to offer a 'secret service.' Ijuuin protection... from shinobi. And other such emergencies on demand. She does well enough on her own.. but it would do you well, not to have to worry about ..."
Shiryuu shakes his head, not saying the next.
Instead, he wordlessly lifts the cup of ice chips, held in such a fashion that the lid will pop off and stay with him should she accept it. Having someone else's straw is just gross.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
Yua knows a fair amount about her history. Japanese history? Not so much.
"Mmhm!" Yua hums, brightly, when Shiryuu has no idea how deal with that kind of affection. And, really, that's just another sign that --
"Hee hee," Yua giggles behind a hand, again, when he insists she'd better not misunderstand. "Don't worry, don't worry! You have much more important things to worry about!" For now. At least... she can actually express good cheer? She's not entirely made out of terror and screaming.
Mom brain is certainly a type of peace.
Luckily, Yua doesn't insist he explain that. Instead, she blinks as he somehow meanders over to her like a slippery eel. Fast, but also aimless...? He's very talented...
"Oh!" Yua exclaims, when Shiryuu explains the pact. She's surprised, but she smiles, again, after a moment. "Father is the head of the clan," she says, "and this kind of thing feels like something he ought to decide...? Unless it's fine? I'm a little new to this kind of arrangement, so maybe you'd know...?" Yua pauses, as she takes the cup, with its delicious ice chips inside. "Oh, but you wouldn't offer if it wasn't something I could ask for, would you? You're very proper like that! Or maybe... you wanted to see if I was okay with it before asking Father?"
Dear God, she's thinking out loud.
Yua smiles to Shiryuu. "I admit, you did frighten me," she admits, "but I can see now that you're not the terror I'd thought of you... those mutual accounts can ask for very unreasonable things, sometimes." Her smile dims, for a moment, before she shakes her head and looks to him again. "But I'd be very happy if you'd like to help protect us. I think it would be much nicer than fighting all the time! And I will need more help to stay safe now I've got the baby... someone else looking out for Hiroki and I can only be a boon."
Hiro--
yua that's just 'ooshiro' pronounced as a first name
Yua proceeds to nibble on some ice chips, her smile broadening again. "That's a relief!" She adds, cheerfully, though she elects to spare Shiryuu the details of her upset stomach.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
At some point, Shiryuu realizes he is being patronized in the most friendly fashion. This does not do his frayed nerves any good, and the nature of things sits ill at ease with him. Luckily, she's doesn't seem to want to pursue the matter any. Time to get to business.
"... no, I don't think so," he replies, half out of hand. At least, he tries to reply, before he realizes Yua is not actually talking to him, more than openly letting her thought bubbles get out into the air. The boy leans back on his heel, crumpling the straw in a hand as he makes a distinct face. Is she really...? This is an unprecedented amount of transparency into literally anyone's train of thought.
Shiryuu, who is used to intuiting things, and reading between the lines, is not comfortable, and is not sure he likes it.
"You were right to think that way," Shiryuu remarks, the comment shot off in a cavalier manner. To the onmitsu contractor's credit, he is extremely polite despite his impulses to be devillish just to spite any assumptions made about him; the wadded up straw and lid go into his back pocket. "I'm not the type of person who relents."
He has a symbol on his back, emblazoned on the haori he wears. Unfortunately, it's hard to see because he's also wearing his shoulder bag with it, which actually conceals the symbol most of the time. However, at the angle Yua's sitting at and because Shiryuu is standing, she can just barely see the edge of a green leaf when the boy turns away, apparently having had enough of the sunlight -- it's really too early for any of this adorable nonsense.
Actually, the melon soda-flavored ice chips are not bad, objectively. Crisp, lightly sweet, refreshing... it's really hard to tell what Shiryuu's problem was with it to start with.
"What I'm thinking of is just 'time' for 'time.' An agreement that anyone should be able to agree to. Don't think of it like 'I want to protect you.' That's ... that's not what I'd like to say. This is more of a mutually beneficial arrangement that will put to rest any remaining rancor."
Hands slowly go to his sides, disappearing into the sleeves of his haori when they hang down just right. It's actually alluding to how many layers he wears apparently at all times, that it takes a full second for his shoulders to follow the motion, dropping slightly.
This is the part that's annoying to admit. "When we fought. That power of yours ... may even match the ability of my own cursed 'eye.' I'd like you to owe me the favor of using that power for my own ends. Once. In exchange for your 'bonds' to be under my imminent protection and call, an order paid in blood from no less than I, shihaisha, and all mine under my shadow."
He pauses a moment. The words he uses are extremely old-fashioned, but even he is given a step back as he is forced to tilt his head, looking back. It's a surprisingly corvid gesture. Hiro..k...
"..what?" Er, wait. "...nevermind."
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
Yua is patronising Shiryuu a bit, but with the warmest possible regard.
He's a VERY NICE YOUNG MAN actually she decided.
And Yua, having decided that Shiryuu is not about to murder her, is remarkably free with her thoughts. Perhaps that's why she needs such a strong partner: damn woman is probably the sort to blithely wander into a spike trap.
He insists she was right to be terrified, but she's still smiling. "Maybe it's just because you know about our baby... but you've still been quite kind to me this morning," she insists, and indeed the ice chips are lovely and refreshing and not too overpowering. "You could have given me a terrible fright, when I need to work very hard to avoid them... still, you didn't. I appreciate that, you know?"
Still... an agreement anyone should be able to agree to.
"Mm?" Yua prompts him, curiously, tilting her head.
(She does not wear layers -- any layers, really; if it's possible to be wearing less clothes than she is in her leotard, it would at least be deeply improper.)
He explains, and she lifts her hand, cupping her left cheek gently. "I see..." Yua muses, her smile fading into thoughtfulness. She looks away from Shiryuu, for a moment, before she looks back to him.
"... well, I understand that people like us take the lives of others more easily than most. Mimi... Mimi has to, too. But I don't wish to kill anyone by my own hand... is that fine?" Yua looks a little pained, as she insists: "You'd not want me to try, in any case -- I fear I'd faint before I could ever! So long as that's fine... I'll promise to help you."
Yua sighs, her hands folding in her lap.
"But I should tell you a little about it... right? Ah, though there are things I can't really say... the Powers that Be wouldn't like it." Which says a lot by omission, really. Yua grows downcast, her shoulders sinking, as she looks down at the fabric decoration stretched across her right hand. "... my Eye... it marks me as Chosen," she explains, softly. "But it's not as simple as that... well, I think the reason he blessed my Eye is because of what... happened to it. It was... opened up," she hesitates over the explanation, her brow knitting. "Seeing through it, those people enter into me... those Shadows, those Demons... I am possessed by their natures. I become sick with them... his Mark must facilitate it, for it is only through suppressing it that I am able to... centre to myself again?" Well, the Mark Suppressants are what help Yua in this way. "And through enhancing it, I may instead take in so much..."
Yua looks out, into the middle distance.
"... too much..."
She trails off, for a moment, before she's able to find her centre again. "Ah... though, I'm not like the other Chosen. My quiet, it's... I cannot find the Demons the others can. I cannot reach them. But I am still, and I am hushed... the space I create is not so loudly wrong." A breath of a pause, as she adds: "Though -- a scream dulled is not silence. The creeping impropiety will become clear to the Persona-Users around me, given time to dwell on their feelings... it just may not attract men from a ward away. Mm... and... if you need me to use a power like that... you need to warn me, all right?" Yua rubs at her arm, still frowning.
"... when I try to use my power without my Mark Suppressants... it is a thing which might kill me, you understand. Even--even with them, I... it is as if my lungs are as full of blood as air... my blessing, it isn't right. I think that is why they hate me so," she adds, quietly. "The Chosen are afforded a level of respect and power by the Powers, but I... oh, I suppose I've perverted it, or some other line like that... the only status I received was to be regarded as more valuable."
Yua sighs, looking back up to Shiryuu. "Well... if you wanted my help because of it... I thought you deserved to know a little about my curse. It isn't something I can normally talk about, but since we're under the same yolk... knowing these things will help you work effectively with me, right?"
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"...right," Shiryuu replies evenly, turning away quickly, head into the morning breeze for better airflow across his face. She's accused him of a lot, but being kind is so far, the least objectionable. He can be that, as needed, when pleased. But, and ...
"..it's only practical," he points out, completely sensibly.
It's natural for Shirogarasu to mind the safety of new children.
But the Ijuuin fiancee's words fade into the background, even as the onmitsu follows along to every detail. His head tilts forward, eyes still half-lidded. That young man looks to the side without turning, suppressing a whole ream of notions. He forgets to breathe until he can shape his mouth around the words.
"The Mark," he repeats. "A person Chosen, by..."
The chilling idea doesn't sit right with him.
He understands the risk implicitly, of death. "I wonder if it's going to be that way ... for everyone else." He doesn't explain what he means by that.
Even so, the notion takes awhile to chase off, replaced by more practical considerations. "...It's not a power to be wielded lightly, locked within these cursed eyes of ours," he finally agrees, his mind settling back into the subject after that momentary vagary of attention.
"But ... it's not acceptable to let this world decide who is Chosen and who is not, what their fates are and what they aren't."
It doesn't sit right with him, the fatalism and acceptance of this risk. He knows some of what she speaks on, the dark spaces to which their mutual account lords. But he's been told more than once about the risk of that Mark, the thing that he spares the slightest glance over a shoulder over.
"I'll make the determination myself, as shihaisha. There was no one who chose me. I merely was, am, and will be. I bear the arms of every innovation, madness and atrocity that came before me. I have survived every ill fortune that has come to claim us thus far, because inside of me burns the pure blood of tensai. No matter what the curse, my power is strong enough to resist it."
There is an uncommon steel in the boy's voice, easily outflanking every notion of unease that came previous.
His sleeves move as the boy finally turns back, doubt erased and cut down in the daybreak, his very obvious fatigue and ill handling temporarily forgotten. There is a small 'tink' as a tiny chain unspools from inside his sleeve. Instead of a weapon, or anything like that, a mango-sized stuffed animal drops from his sleeve, suspended on a little chain lanyard. It's a glittering silver kitsune, scented vaguely of sweet pears, and it's being dangled from his fingertips. The fact becomes readily apparent as he lifts the delicate, pretty little toy to offer it to Yua.
"I don't know anything about being in an egg together," that sounds strange to him, "but I'll accept you. This," the onmitsu says of the toy, "is for the baby. It symbolizes breaking free."
That must be the third thing, though Shiryuu's long since abandoned the construct.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
"Even if it's practical, it's not something I can always expect... so I'm glad." Yua smiles, to Shiryuu, and she is the type to level accusations.
She's -- she's a thespian.
She is not smiling, though, as she speaks of the Mark. And when Shiryuu wonders whether the others will die, she shakes her head, just slightly. "I've never seen another Chosen be so wounded by their gifts," she says, quietly.
Miho might be tired, after using hers, but... it's nothing like Yua's horrors.
Yua looks down at her hands -- at her right hand -- and her lips press thinly together.
"I chose to go and see him," she says, quietly. "I sought his Power."
Under false pretenses.
... she doesn't mention that part, though.
She's listening, as he speaks about his duty as the 'shihaisha'. (What's... a shihaisha...?) She can't see his face, as he speaks of his legacy with a strength which reminds her -- and it's quite a positive comparison -- of Miho's tenacity, implacable and formidable.
But she hears a lingering, in his voice, where he says he will resist any curse laid upon him. A trail, leading to --
'... unlike you.'
They are not words -- Shiryuu cannot hope to hear them. Yet Yua has no clue she hasn't; to her ears they sound like words, and she cannot see, his face turned from her, that his lips ceased moving before the end of 'his' sentence.
Her gifts have always operated this way: through the faces and voices of those around her. She has never heard his voice in her mind; has never found him in her dreams. His advice slips through her fingers, grains of sand too sparse to catch.
Innovation? Madness? Atrocity?
These horrors visited upon her flesh invite him, her locks shattered and door-posts forced.
Shiryuu will hear her gasp, but softly; see the way her gaze drops back down to her hands. "You are right," she says, though she sounds a touch more downcast than she ought. "I could not speak with such iron as you... but I do believe you more capable of resisting those curses."
Her eye widens as she hears that tink, snapping up to regard him again; but rather than another choking-chain this is instead the chain of a stuffed kitsune, and her alarm is washed away by delight. "Oh!" She gasps, again, this time delighted instead of pained; she reaches out to cradle the little thing in her hands, petting its soft little back with a finger. "Oh, it's beautiful," she says, bringing it up to her cheek. "It's so soft... oh, Hiroki will love it so...!"
Yua manages to place the kitsune safely upon her lap before she starts tearing up over the thoughtfulness of Shiryuu's gift, thankfully. Unfortunately: now she's crying because she's happy, dear GOD, does this woman ever STOP crying?! (No. That's the hormones, too.)
"I'm really happy, you know?" She smiles, wiping at her damp cheek with the side of her fingers. "I want Hiroki to have a better life... I want him to remember me for that..." Yet she does not speak those heavy words with the portent they deserve, as if she's long since accepted the time limit on her soul.
She doesn't look like she's dying. A little sickly, perhaps. Weaker than she could have been. Fragile. But to speak of herself like a forming memory...?
"And... I'll accept you, too," she smiles, to him, gently. "I'll rely on you from now on, okay?"
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
He couldn't hope to hear that Voice, whispering from somewhere beyond the grave. Couldn't hope to rebuke the words it puts in his mouth, wearing his voice and taking his face. It's not something he could abide, if he knew. If he knew.
That's the way of things that happen in the margins, outside the oversight of the crows.
But, it's not like the boy is completely devoid of the awareness of context. Being a shinobi means to deal with people who are doomed as a matter of the everyday. His hand lifts back up to his obi, the drape of his sleeve hanging alongside his waist as he hooks a thumbtip, self-consciously, into his pocket.
The idea that sounds originating at his wrists may stir up unpleasant memories escapes him in his distractions. The notion that the experience of this curse is not universally terrible seems to give the boy some comfort, smoothing out his expressions, pulling his attention to the fore; his mind seems to 'snap to,' and all that's remaining is the next problem: Her own.
"....hey, Ooshiro-san."
His eyes lay down across her -- the way she accepts his gift, the tiny, shining symbol of freedom from oppressions taking up a warm, soft, beady-eyed post in her lap. It would be easy to respond with the shihaisha's bravado here; saying that he would kill doom itself would be a simple matter. But, with the tiny saccade of his glance from the toy to her own welling eye, the thought rings sour to his mouth.
"... Gin-kun's not just for the child, you know. You can use him too, if need be. It's only natural to rely on strength."
Of course, she's crying now. By the time she looks at him, the boy has an open-mouthed look of smooth dismay pasted across his face again -- really, he could not be more uncomfortable if she produced a Kuchisake-onna from her pocket. "what is up with theatre," Shiryuu thinks to himself, working his jaw over a whisper that doesn't rise above the audibles of a thought.
'And...I'll accept you too.' "!"
".....hhht--" the boy turns away on a heel again, the movement crisp and trained. "...it's only natural," he decides, as a shihaisha.
Does he hear her person returning? It would be uncomfortable if he were to be found in this situation. "I'm going to go try and find pear juice," Shiryuu comments, completely non-sequitur. He steps into his next motion and --
Nope, he is definitely fucking fast. The transition between 'exhausted, arguably homeless person talking to someone who looks more like one of Japan's aristocracy' to 'studious jogger on the path with a parcel to deliver please stay out of my way' takes no more than a step or two, and even with that telltale mop of grey hair, Shiryuu disappears into the distant crowd on the path almost immediately.
<Pose Tracker> Yua Ooshiro has posed.
And Yua, in turn, does not know he doesn't know; doesn't know she ought to ask. She doesn't know anything's wrong.
It all sounds... so normal.
But -- hey --
Yua tilts her head, as she looks up to him, and it would certainly be easy to speak bravado to her. (Easy to lie to her.) But when he instead offers her support, her smile spreads, though her eye gets no less dry.
(Just the one, though. There's no dampness on that covered cheek of hers. ... no, there couldn't be; the macerated skin would eat through her skull by the end of the week.)
"Gin-kun... t-that's so cute... oh, he's beautiful!!" Yua cries, as she hugs the silver kitsune to her chest. What a lovely, soft little guy...
And then she sees him getting all embarrassed, and she can't not giggle about that, and -- "Of course!", she manages to get out --
She doesn't manage to say much more than that, though, because away he goes. Yua blinks, staring at the dotted line where Shiryuu once stood.
"Goodness. He's very fast..."
"Who's fast?" Sachie asks, as she ambles back up with two bottles of water. "Oh, that boy you were talkin' to? ... aww, he gave you a plushie and you got all emotional about it, huh?"
"HE'S JUST SO CUTE!" Yua wails, hugging Gin-kun, and the jury's out about whether she's talking about the fox or the boy.
Just wait until Miho finds out about this...