2026-01-12: Reclaimed Property
- Log: Reclaimed Property
- Cast: Shiryuu Ryouhara, Kurou Ryouhara
- Where: Hirasaka, Sumaru
- OOC Date: 2026-01-12
- IC Date: Sep 9 2012
- Summary: Shiryuu visits Kurou's residence, as promised. There's no mercy in readiness inspections. Right?
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou's residence is in Hirasaka Ward. Sensible, given it keeps him in proximity to school, but known to be rough around the edges. Less sensible is that Kurou's residence is part of an apartment building looking rather like it might be crushed between the two taller buildings it's trapped between at any moment. It would be a miracle if there were a half dozen rooms available in such a space. It is the opposite of a miracle to learn there are, in fact, twice that.
There is precisely one inch of yard before reaching the front wall of the building. A few tenacious weeds manage to surprise in that strip of dirt.
His apartment enters from the outside -- or at least, probably his apartment, as it exists between '105' and '107' but only has the numbers '10' followed by a strange smear -- sparing Shiryuu a claustrophobic liminal experience, but requiring him to climb halfway up a narrow, rusted staircase that does not creak so much as it screeches if weight is applied wrong, and the incorrect application is 'any'.
The peeling paint of the door was presumably once intended to be white, but now certainly is not. Whether it's more greenish or yellowish depends on the angle, and in some choice conditions, it becomes a sickly combination of the two that might not have a name yet.
Unfortunately for anyone who now does not want to knock, the button for the buzzer is missing, leaving a hole with frayed wires crawling out.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
It's roughly the promised time. Shiryuu won't deny a bit of shihaisha's prerogative in the matter, but he was off shift at the construction site early today, and without a current studio timetable, he has nothing to do other than to manage his affairs.
Much to his detriment -- though the boy in the massive fur-lined jacket (in September?) had evened out in the last week following his inspection of the Akabane property, his detached mien is still sporting the scars of sleep deprivation, long lines etched underneath his eyes. Even so; there's been enough to do that he's elected to execute a rigorously, brutally efficient schedule, remarkable in the aftermath to all but the most disaffected of the clan.
Namazu no Takeshi had laughed. Infuriating, as ever.
"'ho hoo hoo,'" Shiryuu mimicks, under his breath. Stupid.
That's when Shiryuu almost trips over exactly 1cm of weed. It's really the only thing keeping the brutally efficient and also brutally distracted shinobi from walking right past the little blip of an apartment building, lost inbetween much bigger cousins. The grey-haired boy pauses, looking up. "....?"
He checks the note card in his jacket pocket again. Looks around. Left. Right. Up again, eyebrows knitting in bold, terrible confusion. Is this it?
He regards the wrought iron staircase as if it were a live viper.
Ryouhara definitely waits until there's nobody nearby to start up that mess. Luckily, Ryouhara ninjutsu aside, Shiryuu has a rather featherlight step. He's not wearing his backpack or sword today, so the three leaves of Ryouhara are openly stylized as geometry, a trio of chevrons at his back today around a three pointed whirling blade. It also means he's considerably lighter still, so doesn't have to worry about the imminent collapse of the stair system.
Much.
Regarding the smear with a tepid glare, Shiryuu's inner proclivities start to show when he sets a knee against the doorframe to rest his weight and -- instead of knocking, attends the box inside the doorbell system and its wiring. Let's see. Hot. Neutral. Is this power live? Short this to that. *ZAP*
"Ow-- son of a--"
Inspection start!
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
The door swiftly pulls open, Kurou there to blink back at Shiryuu and however he chooses to nurse that newly electrocuted finger. In the comfort of his own home, he is not wearing that novelty hoodie vest of his at the moment, instead in a simple, black tank with similarly dark pants.
"Shirogarasu," he greets in realization, bowing very deeply. He rises from it a little taller than before. "Please make yourself comfortable. I will prepare tea."
It is in dark here.
The only window faces the industrial view of a brick wall, and the light switch by the entrance is facing down. The wiring of the naked bulb above is exposed, drooping through torn drywall, and bound in enough electrical tape to resemble the pelt of a reef snake.
Lighting is instead granted by a battery powered lantern dangling from a wall-mounted coat hanger. The shiest outlines of glow-in-the-dark stars speckle the ceiling, but without enough daily light to charge them, only those closest to the lantern could manage any glow.
Kurou's futon is on the far end of the room, which exists five paces away, folded against the wall and neatly covered in grey, fraying sheets and a single, thin pillow. This is topped by a wolfish plush toy, well worn and missing an eye. The futon is squashed by a narrow dresser missing its third drawer and flanked by what seems to be a laboratory classroom table stolen from a school building. It is neatly stacked with textbooks and school work on one side, sectioned off cleanly from the single hotplate (currently with kettle which Kurou attends) and meager collection of mismatched dishware.
Most of the room is currently taken up by a low level table... or the plank of plywood Kurou evidently believes is a table, lifted up by a pair of plastic crates.
Kurou busies himself with sifting and whisking matcha powder while waiting for the kettle to reach optimal temperature, for this is such an occasion as to call for the good stuff.
Surely, this will help him get a good grade in inspection.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"Noble Ryouhara." It's a formal greeting -- excessively formal, used primarily during a little known period of time in the clan during the Meiji Restoration to bolster clan spirits during their muddiest years.
Shiryuu uses it now primarily to mask the fact that Kurou currently finds him sucking the sting out of the nerves in his index finger, an idle salve that is quickly dissipated with an equally idle hand shaken through the air, before he faces Kurou as something -- remotely -- resembling shihaisha.
"I hope you've made your home ready for my inspection. Akabane's was not so lucky so as to have as much warning..."
Shiryuu trails off, focusing into the dim black void just above the younger shinobi's head, peering past the door into the pitch black beyond. MMnhrh. His face is cool and complacent, but there is a certain gingerness to his step, and the direction of his searching glance for a lightswitch or literal anything is somewhat telling. Slowly, eyes used to intense neon adjust to the dim light cast by the lantern, and the smaller details come clear.
The onmitsu's eyes are as narrow as knives as he looks around silently in Kurou's wake. As according to their training, the kouhai is much more organized than appearances let on, perhaps even moreso than himself. Ah, he's making tea. It should be fine. Uh. Hmm.
"There was a structural problem in the ceiling, so it was necessary to dole out my harshest grades," Shiryuu lies quietly, looking up while Kurou is elsewhere attending the matcha. A fingertip reaches up -- he is just tall enough to reach one of the stars up there, and he is surreptitiously trying to pluck one off while Kurou is mixing, to pocket it before the younger boy notices.
He also notices the brick wall outside the window. He must truly live a charmed existence to have a view in most of the places he stays. Regrettably, Japan seems to be run by the tyrants. 'Asseisha,' Seishirou called them once.
"This location is admirable for its ... stealth," Shiryuu notes, partially as a distraction for his personal skullduggery. He has learned from his previous escapade with the buzzer, and only taps the light bulb of the unanchored lampholder, not the actual wiring. That's just a project right? It's not a table, certainly. It looks like a table.
"How did you come across it..?" Perfectly innocent discussion.
Kurou has to be careful here not to implicate anyone he doesn't want censured.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou regards Shiryuu's finger with a small twist of his head, but does not verbalize his concern. That comes, instead, in the form of a swiftly and quietly placed bandage and antiseptic set on the corner of his table before he focuses on tea. (His 'table'.)
"You were generous with your warning to me," he replies. "So I had time to acquire the appropriate refreshments."
He moves within his own dark space either from familiar memory or brute forced comfort in the inappropriately low life. In truth, there is probably a bit of both. With enough squinting, one might see the outlines of another door in this space, opposite the window. Hopefully it's not a closet, because otherwise Kurou doesn't have anything that could feasibly be a bathroom.
Ah, but poor Akabane and her ceiling. "My apologies. I failed to recognize that when I was assisting with her provisions."
Shiryuu procures a plastic star, for Kurou is more than sufficiently focused on the critical task of tea brewing. A dot of adhesive putty comes with it.
And then... praise! Of a fashion. Kurou looks toward Shiryuu, and his face is now the brightest thing in the apartment. Given how little Kurou's face shifts, even in such motions, this is a terrible thing to have to be true. "Yes, the location has its advantages."
Unfortunately, Kurou soon proves the table is really meant to be a table when he serves tea in traditional, tall form cups... setting the chipped one on his own side, though Shiryuu can still make out the faint outlines of cracks in the other, mended from whatever accident it once experienced. It is paired alongside a box of maple leaf nerikiri... vivid green and autumn hues existing in harsh contrast to the colorless apartment.
Questioned, Kurou pauses, eyes wandering upward as he searches his memories.
"It was... a newspaper listing." He nods slowly. There were a few attempts at housing back then, but he is fairly confident this is the one that came from the paper. "It is close to the school, and, as you say, an inconspicuous location."
Kurou sets his hands around his own teacup, letting the heat sink in. "... Ultimately, it was your rise to leadership is what allowed me the agency to acquire independent and improved living conditions."
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
A thumbnail scrapes the putty off the back of the star. It's gone by the time Kurou is next aware, leaving Shiryuu to appear to be placing a droplet of antiseptic on his fingertip while Kurou attends to affairs. It both gives Shiryuu a reason not to try and fix the overhead light's wiring (plus) and to eventually face facts that he is being presented with a table (minus).
He didn't ask if Umie came here. For his own sanity, that seems like a good policy to continue. "..it's fine," Ryouhara comments, his voice smooth and cavalier in the dark. "I also reviewed her supplies. I can tell she's been being guided to make better choices. The work was within my wishes." There was no rotting food in there this time. "Akabane's health is the priority..."
Shiryuu is mostly making idle conversation, subjects passing with only the lightest brush of his authority as shihaisha -- the expected amount of discretion between shinobi of differing rank, but no more.
It is, perhaps, the only signpost of Shiryuu's respect, affections, or entire lack thereof. He can be quite heavy-handed, when the situation demands.
As demonstrated.
Oh lord. It is a table. The young man is quiet as the tea is set out, and though his two-tone eyes brighten -- a shade -- at the colorful dough snacks set out, Shiryuu is impressively reserved with the delicately mended cup. "Thank you. I will join you," he says formally.
It is, however, with a much more haunted eye that the young man allows the tea's warmth to seep into his fingertips, hands just barely poking out from the sleeves of his jacket as he makes out the mysterious door in the dark. He is spying it for choice moments while Kurou tells him, thankfully not incriminating any specific name so as to the state of this apartment. "And the landlord?" he asks after. "I hope the management is cooperative."
'It was your rise to leadership that allowed him the agency to be here.'
"....Aa," Shiryuu replies politely, his expression never quite changing from that careful cultivation. "Underneath my hand, all Ryouhara must realize their deepest dreams in my synthesis," he says, though something about it is merely reflexive.
There is a pregnant pause, as the shihaisha lifts the tea to his senses to sample its scent, letting the warm steam slide between his thumbtips.
"...Kurou," he looks up, the press of his dull grey eyebrows sharpening by a shade. "...have you been al--" Hm. He pauses, a band of steel slithering into his words.
"... have you spoken with anyone since the events at the village?"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Would that Kurou know it was his doorbell (or lack thereof) that is the true offender of this slight. Perhaps he might recognize the flaws of his own residence then.
As it is, he carries himself with a demeanor dangerously tilted toward pride for where he lives.
And does it not allow him to perform satisfactorily in his duties? To hear Akabane-san benefit from his efforts is more affirmation that, despite everything, Kurou's instincts are not so eroded that he has lot all efficiency. Umie is a little better off, now. A little more protected from the world and its various ills. Some of that is surely Shiryuu's own personal influence as well.
"I understand. I will continue to offer her support."
These are bold words for a boy with a line ripped through his ceiling.
The more casual manner are not something Kurou takes for granted. He understands, despite the great secrecy afforded his living arrangements, that it is useful to appear as though they are not conducting constantly business and assessment.
For as horrific as the presumed table is, the tea would be at home in a tea ceremony. Perhaps that makes it worse. It is incredibly doubtful Kurou brewed this with any available tap water given the purity of its flavor, but perhaps this can be taken as a reassurance in some ways.
Kurou takes a long sip and is quiet as it travels through his throat, allowing him this one indulgence before answering Shiryuu. "They are busy people, but my estimation. I have inquired about the lights and the mirror a few times, but it is no matter... I realize these are not critical situations."
They kind of are!!
Reflexive as Shiryuu's words are, they are the kind well engraved on Kurou's heart. His expression turns more thoughtful. Deepest dreams... Yes, he does have the agency for that too, doesn't he...? Well, one step at a time, beginning with a place to sleep and brew his own tea.
In that pause, he sips again, but pauses with Shiryuu's question. Kurou gently lowers the teacup until it is silently set to the table. His brows raise slightly as the only hint of his surprise. At first he wonders if Shiryuu means to verify his silence in what transpired, but...
"I have not."
Should he have?
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"Mmm."
The shihaisha's sound is one of muted approval. The tea is phenomenal, of exemplary quality, recognizable even by someone who doesn't normally drink a lot of tea. The clean grassy notes of the matcha, the smooth feel of filtered water. The technique of that boy is at the highest level.
Exactly why he tasked him to capture three men and drag them before him on a moonlit night.
However, the grey-haired Ryouhara is not at all so final in the matter of landlords as he is with clan lords. "We will have to revisit it with them," Shiryuu replies mildly, as if it didn't matter at all in the slightest. "Though.. hm..." he wonders openly after something Kurou said. Between slender fingers, the onmitsu sets the tea down gently onto the plywood, mindful so as not to damage the cup's repair.
Shiryuu makes a point to duck the exposed hanging wiring as he steps towards that door in the dark, to open it, ostensibly to make use of the amenities and wash his hands, perhaps? Perhaps.
There is an audible click as the doorknob turns a few centimeters too far, helpless in Shiryuu's grip.
The older boy releases the slightest dagger of a sigh. Kurou may recognize that he does this a lot when he's done talking, though in this case he didn't say anything previous. The shihaisha's investigation is ongoing, and a small examination reveals that the privacy lever is broken inside the lock, keeping the doorknob from actually operating the strike. Luckily, the strike is not aligned with the strike plate, and so the door isn't properly latched to start with. It is, however, stuck, and by Shiryuu's estimation, it takes a three degree counterclockwise shift in weight to take the pressure off of the jamb enough to open the door.
The battle is mercifully brief. The door cracks just a little as the onmitsu pauses, his hand at his side. Just a second's hesitation before opening, as the admission that Kurou had not spoken with anyone since the matter hangs like a yellow moon, low, sick and omnipresent in the air.
"....mm. You've done good work for yourself," Shiryuu points out. Is he actually talking about the apartment? "In representing my will. And in representing and erasing the shame borne by the name 'Ryouhara' in the world from our forebears."
"However... in spite of every deserved exalt, the 'name' is not as important as 'we.' Synthesis is something that transcends the boundaries of fame. A rhythm that cannot be achieved alone."
The doors is cast open with a puh, though Shiryuu does not yet look into the dark beyond. Instead, his gaze pivots, sliding across the ground, pensive, as if determining what exactly to say.
"....the order for secrecy is still in effect. Transgressions could still damage the clan. But... you should find a person outside of our moorings. A person who understands your ways. Even if that person is someone who would think to kill me, the highest and noblest of the clan Ryouhara, he who holds the title of 'Shihaisha...'"
"...Know and be safe in knowing that the life I lay down for our shining future is not one that can be so easily taken."
For a shining moment, his voice is clear, bold, and true, an arrow shot from heaven. In the second moment, the storm greys the sky, and the young man finds far more trouble in coloring the course and tone of his words. "And ... should you find such a person, and that person is someone you trust, I will preemptively authorize your judgment in the matter."
The door hits the end of its hinges, and slowly bounces back a few inches before its momentum bleeds away, leaving it ajar. Shiryuu doesn't notice.
"I know there's some things," he begins, before shortly trailing off.
He sighs, brushing a strand of silver from his eyes.
"... Become strong," he starts over. "I will give you my trust as to how."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
A cup of tea brewed with the same conviction as capturing three men and casting judgment on their crimes... For even Kurou requires more than an empty ceiling to stare at when all is said and done. A warm cup of tea, and a ceiling of glowing stars... Well, one of these was reliable.
Kurou accepts Shiryuu's desire to meet with the landlord without resistance, simply nodding with this assessment. "Very well. Tomorrow will mark two weeks since my last attempt to contact them. I have been led to understand this is the amount of time that should be given to process each request."
They will be expecting his usual attempt at correspondence, which has become an all too comfortable pattern, instinctively, and they will be prepared to ignore it just as unthinkingly. But they will not expect another's involvement.
Then Shiryuu stands to attempt entry into the bathroom. Kurou's mouth starts to open in a quick word of advice on how to handle the contraption he dares call a door before he feels silenced by that sigh. But Shiryuu navigates the situation expertly. As expected of his shihaisha. It is with shame that he ever suspect he should need to intervene.
Yet Shiryuu speaks instead of continuing his investigation. Or washing his hands, which is what a normal person is probably meant to think.
Kurou keeps his cup down, hands squeezes around it, as Shiryuu addresses him. His own small breath escapes, of a small fragment of tension he allowed himself to hold. He does not regret his actions. He does not think he would, or should, have done differently. But he is a simple shinobi, and there is still relief to know Shiryuu does not regret his reliance on Kurou that night.
It is the rest of it that makes Kurou's head start to turn to one side like a dog that doesn't understand a new sound.
"My... ways..." he echoes, beginning as a question before correcting itself out of one. Not Clan Ryouhara's ways. Not the ways of a shinobi, or the ways of their family's future. His own. Even if they were to --
"Ah --" Quiet alarm lights in Kurou's gaze, but he does not protest. No. He should know better by now. Not him, not the Joker Killer, not anyone has yet been able to rip Shiryuu from the mortal coil. The bright clarity in Shiryuu reflects back in Kurou's deadened eyes, giving the illusion of a glimmer of vivacity.
Could Kurou ever trust such a person who would even consider threatening that future he clings onto...? Oh, he realizes the moment the question hits him, that is what Shiryuu's strength seeks to offer, should that be the kind of person who knows Kurou's 'ways'. In order to become strong...
"I will." Kurou speaks with his own force of conviction, as if the order had been one of the highest magnitude. "And I will not squander the confidence you have placed in me."
... This is a bold statement to make while Shiryuu has just opened the door to his bathroom with a sink the size of a soup bowl, a shattered mirror, and a shower that has a maximum capacity of nine tenths of a person.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
It was important.
The broken fragments of the clan, the shattered emotions and cycle of recrimination was in every step he took. It would do the boy behind him no good to understand 'mortality,' or the mortal scar he bore from his ill-fated attempt to remove the Joker Killer from this mortal coil. How would he even explain it? To anyone, really...
How does one explain that half their life is there and gone at once?
It's better this way. The invincible Shirogarasu is much better a name, he thinks. Better than a dead fox. A dragon's hope. .. an empty-headed pet.
There is something he can do for the world, for them, as Shirogarasu.
Fingertips barely visible rub together in idle thought as Kurou replies, as the tea cools regrettably on the makeshift table, as the grey-headed boy thinks of landlords and intervals, and the strange proclivity of everyone around him to be subjected to unconscionable slums.
...forgetting earlier thoughts, the shihaisha's eyes half-lid, and the moment cools to ice. "Mm."
The light from the lantern flows organically (not helpfully, which is a distinction) into the closet-made-bathroom, an affront to the sensibility of anyone like him, and Shiryuu's glance into it reveals the broken mirror, reflecting the distant light like a distress signal from a plane crash. The light barely -- just barely -- catches Shiryuu's reflection as the young man looks up, leaning into the bathroom and peeking up... down... left...
"...Mm. A viable start to one's living arrangements," Shiryuu decides quietly. "For my final evaluation, the selection and seclusion of the property is within standards." He doesn't say 'my standards,' nor does he specify whose standards. Likely, he means Kirijo standards.
"As a result," he continues, "as shihaisha I intend to annex your property for our use. Temporarily, this place will be the storage site for a shipment of ninkou that will flow through Sumaru from Nagano in accordance with business the prior Yongarasu were overseeing. During this time, your home will be underneath my personal securities and control. Once the shipments have concluded, we will return it to you, with the necessary recompense."
Shiryuu shuts the door, and is eager to do so. "In the meantime, I will deliver you to Umie Akabane, with whom you'll stay in the interim. Despite the distance, you will attend to your regular duties, including intelligence gathering at Kasugayama. The proximity to Akabane will make it easier to uphold your other responsibilities."
He points at the maple nerikiri. "I will sample these," he says, "before I hear your answer." Priorities.