Maelstrom: Wave-Man (Part I)
Hello!
Something I'm going to be doing to wind down from essay work for a few more nights; this piece provides Kurugai Masanori with reason to return to the New World, should he ever get the chance to re-enter play. If he should, then I have the agreement of a couple of other people playing other members of his family, retainers and so on; some will be introduced here.
In the meantime, however, it is simply something fluffy, set in the Old World, in the winter. What year, I will leave bare, as it will change depending on when he re-enters play.
No warnings are really appropriate. Concrit is welcome, though!
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On the third day of November, two things came to the daimyo's palace overlooking Karako Province. The first was a bushi, white-furred, beautiful and delicate, with a few aite in tow. The second was winter, heralded by the first flakes of snow, which gently tested the ground for the storms that would follow. For the most part, they found it accepting, as Kamakura is of those frequent visitors whose company it finds pleasant. For the most part.
Kurugai Masanori liked the heat better than the cold, which is a useful trait in a swordsmith. This day, as most days, he sat in his forge, alone and bare to the waist, sweating under white-and-brown fur, contemplating. Although he awaited the arrival of both of the day's guests, the subject of his contemplation was more serious than the weather, and directly related to the bushi.
Tentatively, as if he feared breaking his master's concentration, the aite padded silently round the outside of the forge and into his view. There was a silence. There was always a silence, for a time.
"Tomio." When Masanori spoke, it was barely above a whisper.
"Sama. Kurugai-sama wishes to announce to the palace that as of half an hour ago, it hosts a most honoured guest-"
"Ayame?" The mokosh looked up sharply, and he smiled broadly.
"-the lady Kurugai Ayame, yes," the human finished, clearly determined to see the formalities through. His pose remained ramrod-straight, as the announcement demanded.
"Why didn't you say so sooner, Tomio?" This was what he'd been waiting for; this was superb news! She would have brought her latest paintings with her, and she would brighten up their father's dull and dusty court with an irreverence that only the youngest daughter could get away with.
"I didn't like to break sama's concentration," he said, dropping the formality and reaching for his master's undershirt. He helped his master into the layers of kimono that constituted Kamakuran cold-weather clothing, and pulled on his pony-tail to straighten it out. "If sama's concentration is so focused he will not take the time to have a top-knot tied, he surely must approach enlightenment."
Masanori's head tilted, "Whence this sudden critique of my style?"
"If sama considers the matter, he will realise this may well be his last day with such a pragmatic accoutrement."
"That..." gave him pause for thought. In that pause, the smile faded. She would also have brought her incessant fussing, and would be turning it, as she did at the start of every winter court, on her elder brothers. "Yes," he said eventually, running a black-furred hand over his slicked head-fur to the tight ponytail, "Without Hideo or Kenichiro around, she will rather focus on me."
"The lord Kurugai-sama expects them both within the next fortnight."
"Well," Masanori tugged on the sleeves of his over-kimono, covering as much of himself as he could before heading out into the hated snow, "are not the Lord Sun and the Lady Sky brother and sister, and do not they give us the most beautiful world to live in?"
"Hai, sama," Tomio agreed. He'd heard this line before, every year, the day Ayame arrived.
"Then surely, it must be virtuous to love her in kind, and accept the commands of her well-thought judgement, for she has surely put more consideration into my head-fur than I have."
"Hai."
The aite opened the door of the forge, and a gust of biting wind animated his sleeves. That morning, when Masanori had last been outside, the sun had not yet risen, but a reddish warmth permeated the world. Now, there was only whiteness in the sky, on the path back up to the castle, and even, thanks to the light dusting of snowflakes, on the bare trees that lined the route.
"Tomio?" Masanori said, looking out of the door, but hesitating.
"Sama?" the human replied.
"Remind me to find out why the weather comes with her when she visits, and to ask her to leave it behind."
Something I'm going to be doing to wind down from essay work for a few more nights; this piece provides Kurugai Masanori with reason to return to the New World, should he ever get the chance to re-enter play. If he should, then I have the agreement of a couple of other people playing other members of his family, retainers and so on; some will be introduced here.
In the meantime, however, it is simply something fluffy, set in the Old World, in the winter. What year, I will leave bare, as it will change depending on when he re-enters play.
No warnings are really appropriate. Concrit is welcome, though!
--------------------
On the third day of November, two things came to the daimyo's palace overlooking Karako Province. The first was a bushi, white-furred, beautiful and delicate, with a few aite in tow. The second was winter, heralded by the first flakes of snow, which gently tested the ground for the storms that would follow. For the most part, they found it accepting, as Kamakura is of those frequent visitors whose company it finds pleasant. For the most part.
Kurugai Masanori liked the heat better than the cold, which is a useful trait in a swordsmith. This day, as most days, he sat in his forge, alone and bare to the waist, sweating under white-and-brown fur, contemplating. Although he awaited the arrival of both of the day's guests, the subject of his contemplation was more serious than the weather, and directly related to the bushi.
Tentatively, as if he feared breaking his master's concentration, the aite padded silently round the outside of the forge and into his view. There was a silence. There was always a silence, for a time.
"Tomio." When Masanori spoke, it was barely above a whisper.
"Sama. Kurugai-sama wishes to announce to the palace that as of half an hour ago, it hosts a most honoured guest-"
"Ayame?" The mokosh looked up sharply, and he smiled broadly.
"-the lady Kurugai Ayame, yes," the human finished, clearly determined to see the formalities through. His pose remained ramrod-straight, as the announcement demanded.
"Why didn't you say so sooner, Tomio?" This was what he'd been waiting for; this was superb news! She would have brought her latest paintings with her, and she would brighten up their father's dull and dusty court with an irreverence that only the youngest daughter could get away with.
"I didn't like to break sama's concentration," he said, dropping the formality and reaching for his master's undershirt. He helped his master into the layers of kimono that constituted Kamakuran cold-weather clothing, and pulled on his pony-tail to straighten it out. "If sama's concentration is so focused he will not take the time to have a top-knot tied, he surely must approach enlightenment."
Masanori's head tilted, "Whence this sudden critique of my style?"
"If sama considers the matter, he will realise this may well be his last day with such a pragmatic accoutrement."
"That..." gave him pause for thought. In that pause, the smile faded. She would also have brought her incessant fussing, and would be turning it, as she did at the start of every winter court, on her elder brothers. "Yes," he said eventually, running a black-furred hand over his slicked head-fur to the tight ponytail, "Without Hideo or Kenichiro around, she will rather focus on me."
"The lord Kurugai-sama expects them both within the next fortnight."
"Well," Masanori tugged on the sleeves of his over-kimono, covering as much of himself as he could before heading out into the hated snow, "are not the Lord Sun and the Lady Sky brother and sister, and do not they give us the most beautiful world to live in?"
"Hai, sama," Tomio agreed. He'd heard this line before, every year, the day Ayame arrived.
"Then surely, it must be virtuous to love her in kind, and accept the commands of her well-thought judgement, for she has surely put more consideration into my head-fur than I have."
"Hai."
The aite opened the door of the forge, and a gust of biting wind animated his sleeves. That morning, when Masanori had last been outside, the sun had not yet risen, but a reddish warmth permeated the world. Now, there was only whiteness in the sky, on the path back up to the castle, and even, thanks to the light dusting of snowflakes, on the bare trees that lined the route.
"Tomio?" Masanori said, looking out of the door, but hesitating.
"Sama?" the human replied.
"Remind me to find out why the weather comes with her when she visits, and to ask her to leave it behind."