Proclivities [Closed/Tomie]

"Welcome to Moyamoyasumi, esteemed patron."

The hostess behind the counter, which is facing the door, bows deeply and sincerely the moment these words leave her words, as proper etiquette dictates. While the sight of the black robes, standardized with hakama clothing her lower body and swords at the hip would usually cause the madam's stomach to churn with disgust, there is something else seething on top of this now:

Curiosity.

While the number of Shinigami visitors have increased lately, particularly after the white-haired brat's visit, they tend to come dressed in civilian clothing, as they do so at their own leisure. This, in turn, tends to make their status as Shinigami rather ambiguous, with the exception of those carrying around fancy blades, which truth be told, encompassed most. But not this particular one. She has dropped by in complete uniform in a place of leisure without any warnings whatsoever. This is certainly a tad bit alarming, but the woman keeps her composure. This has happened before - it's just not a regular occurrence.

Besides, this female figure seems to be something more than the ordinary slackers drop by out of curiosity while patrolling the streets regular people roam . This woman, white-haired just like Miss Shinoda, has a body language that carries intent other than just curiosity. This might just be her conviction, however.

The very first words that leave her mouth are those of flattery, seemingly either there are either genuine compliments or to stroke the owner's, which just so happened to be her, ego. Flattery can get someone far, but not in her book; she knows the sycophantic type of these Shinigami. They would literally lick the dirt off someone's sandals if that gave them even a one kan payment increase. Nonetheless, out of politeness, the dark-haired woman maintains a placid, stiff smile and a nigh craned posture, as if ready to bow for the compliments anytime.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hideaki," she replies with the fluidity of a well-made clockwork, traces of the mechanic sameness of the pleasantry barely there. Her voice, suave as it is, invites as much warmth as it can muster to make the Shinigami feel welcome. "My name is Tomie Magahara, and it shall be my pleasure to serve you today." Another bow of courtesy follows, causing the loose sleeves hanging around her elbows to swing idly back and forth. The black furisode with a low cut and customized sleeves, leaving her forearms bare, might not look particularly modest in a situation like this, but Tomie pays it little thought.

"Ah, so you have been to a tea house before? Most excellent." With a joyous smile plastered across her face, the red lips form an exaggerated upturned arc. "It is no matter if you have forgotten the kinds of services businesses like ours provide, I shall happily explain and elaborate if needs be." As if that would make a difference when the people who habitually drop by have to be explained that as well. The sour afterthought lingers only briefly, before she gesticulates towards a door to the right, a little further inside the building. "Perhaps you would care for a cup of tea while I do so? Please follow me."

The tall woman leaves the counter, shoes clacking as they caress the wooden flooring, as she heads towards the door. She passes by shelves, vases and other trinkets adorning the walls, before sliding the door to the chamber open, unveiling the relatively narrow, but tastefully decorated room to her guest. Pointing an outstretched arm towards a cushion on the floor next to a table, the madam looks over to the Shinigami. "Please have a seat while I fetch some tea." Immediately, but gracefully abandoning the room, leaving the door open, she makes her way down the hallway leading to kitchen, makes note to the girls present that she would require someone to take over for her and heads back towards the room with two cups of macha.

The same smile and the same eyes, carrying a tint of fatigue due to age, greet the woman situated in the room. "My apologies. Miss Hideaki, here." She places the cups on the table, straightens the folds of her attire and sits down on the opposite side of the other woman. "I hope you are comfortable. The tea is quite hot, so please be careful." Placing her own hands around the cup she had brought for herself, the slender fingers steadily grow warmer. Flipping through the pages of memorized phases, brows furrow slightly in concentration as she speaks these lines she has already spoken many times over. "Now then. We offer a wide variety of services for different fees, as you would probably already know. Among the most prominent, are calligraphy sessions, instrument lessons, ikebana sessions, tea ceremonies, tea tasting, guided zen meditation, at request, and introductory courses to haiku. Do any of these perhaps pique your interest?" Briefly, the madam glances into the other woman's eyes, before allowing them to trail to her neck as to not seem too intense.

Nanami played the fool, not that she actually had a clear picture of what was going on between her and this woman but knew enough to tell that there was something going on. Very likely it was her Shinigami nature, sword wielding clientele were often the boisterous type. Nanami had earned wary looks far more often than she had been welcomed for the sword and her robes and it wasn't hard to see why. The Shinigami had a well earned reputation of thuggary and ruffianism amongst the Rukongai. She wasn't certain it was that, but it seemed the most likely culprit.

That was fine, of course, surely she'd warm up so long as Nanami kept to her usual courteous self. Nanami smiled, her compliment seemed well received which gladdened her but the tone seemed soured. She'd seen the same before countless times on others, she considered sighing and simply addressing the problem directly, get it all out there and dealt with but she didn't. Another time, perhaps in private, not directly after a greeting. After so long holding up such formalities had become more tiring than the pay off suggested, part experience part weariness.

"Tomie Magahara," she repeated once to make sure she had the pronunciation right.

The exaggerated joyous smile earned one from Nanami as well, albeit a little more reasonable stated, perhaps even genuine. This one played the game so well, though she had to wonder if she found the business so tiresome why do it at all? Perhaps it was simply Nanami that rubbed her the wrong way, or her initial suspicion was correct. She still hadn't decided. "Oh wonderful, thank you, I apologize for my ignorance, had I thought I would have found a place like this when I set out I'd of had a mind to be better prepared for the occasion," a simple explanation leaving enough mystery to be poked at if there were interest, but enough provided to hopefully ease suspicions. She was armed, after all.

Nanami headed where she was directed making her way further inside the building. "I would love one, thank you," she smiled brightly at the offer. Her eyes caught the trinkets and vases as she went, appraising them absently as they went the short distance. She gave a brief nod politely entering at Tomie's offer and moved kneel at once of the cushions. She sighed, contentedly, stretching out. It felt good to sit after her long journey.

Nanami's eyes tended towards the door left open, given the company of her thoughts. A well run business, hopefully given no missteps it would be a place she might be welcomed to return. Whether she wanted to would depend on the temperature of the tea itself.

Nanami tilted her head slightly, giving Tomie a curious look. "Apologies?" she asked, glancing over towards the cup, smiling as Tomie sat across. She had hoped she would join her, and not another attendant. Did she greet all guests herself? "Very, you have tended a very relaxing atmosphere here," she noted. While she spoke her practiced saleswoman delivery Nanami studied her closely. There was something about her that place so familiar, it was incredibly hard to place. As she tried to assemble Tomie from the bits and pieces of the countless faces and people she'd met before the more clear it was becoming. There was something perhaps...unique? about this experience. Something that didn't quite fit. She straightened up, nodding along and hming at the right moments to appear her interest. In truth she was.

"All of those sound quite wonderful truth told. It has been months since I was able to pursue my more...artistic interests. I fear if I go much longer I may forget how to do them. In truth, any of them would be suitable perhaps I could trouble you for a personal recommendation?" She lingered on it only for a moment before pressing forward, not quite enough time to answer or to cut her off if she tried to. "In truth, at the moment, perhaps we could hold such a decision until we are done our tea? I actually find myself most interested in simply speaking to you, if you're fine with obliging me?"

Nanami let this question linger as she took the cup with both hands, raising it up delicately to her lips. She blew gently over the surface, sending the steam spiralling away as she gingerly took a sip to test the temperature. Deeming it perhaps too hot for it to satisfactorily hold a silence she set the cup down.

"The truth is, I am here on some manner of business. A wholly ludicrous task, I would like to establish foremost. I hope this is not the first time, but the Seireitei was given formal complaints that..."

She paused for a moment and closed her eyes, smiling faintly as she let out sigh. She opened them and regarded Tomie closely. "I try not to laugh, you were accused of being a 'witch'." Nanami let out a stored breath, an amused sighed followed. "Ah, I knew at once it was foolish, I confess that's why I took this job to begin with. I wanted a chance to stretch my legs outside of the walls of the Seireitei and relax. Imagine my delight when...well, at any rate I wanted to apologize that this was even a matter to be looked into."

Nanami smiled and took her tea up once more, taking a sip. The truth was often the greatest weapon in a deceitful persons arsenal, best when unexpected. When used right it gained far more than was revealed.

"I understand this complicates matters, but I wished to be straightforward with you, Miss Magahara."

954/19/33 GP Total

The girl has good manners, she notes. Far better than those of your average street rat Shinigami. Perhaps this girl is a higher up, like Hanabi is. But inquiring about her rank would be most inappropriate, as that would show that she possesses knowledge about their ranks and inner workings, which is likely something not known by the general populace. This girl's smile, however, carried something far beyond that of her age apparent - it is subdued and modest, but retains a weary genuineness. She has seen this smile many times before, on different canvases with different mouths, different eyes, different stories.

But there is a common denominator in these faces: they are all old.

It is the smile of an old person who has been around for a long time and has seen so many things that most things seem trivial, perhaps even similar to other things, in the long run. Perhaps calling Miss Hideaki "a young woman" is an mistake. Maybe she is old, like herself. She tries to look for tell-tale signs of an epoch that she might hail from. Was it before her? After her? Around the same time? Is she looking at something that isn't there? She ponders for herself as she welcomes the girl to the consultation suite.

Miss Hideaki looks like a dumbfounded puppy where she sits with a tilted head once Tomie apologizes for potentially being late, as if she doesn't understand. Perhaps the girl isn't used to excessive amount of politeness being used in conversations, which is fair, considering she hails from a military organization. And ruffians. "Apologies for the inconvenience I might have caused by being late." She bows again as she clarifies the situation to the white-haired girl. Come think of it, what is it with white-haired women and appearing in her life? Is she some sort of magnet? Is it her dark brown hair?

While the patron seems interested in the various activities she suggests, the absentminded affirmative noises seem to indicate that she has already made up her mind. She's so polite that she's even waiting. I am flattered. The girl then proceeds to spew two conflicting sentences in rapid succession, leaving the madam a bit speechless, causing her to only nod affirmatively. "But of course. I am more than fine with that decision. Feel free to tell me if you ever decide on an activity, however." She sends Nanami Hideaki, quite the modern name, actually, a genuine smile.

Just drinking tea and chatting could be nice. Especially since this lady possesses manners her employees should be jealous of.

But not quite able to enjoy her hot tea. It is a vaguely childish sight, actually, seeing this grown woman in black robes blow on her tea and then decide that it is still too hot. It is fair, though, quite so; the water had just finished boiling when she took it off the stove. Personally, she doesn't mind. She picks up her cup and takes a cautious sip, letting the bitter liquid sit in her mouth for a while before she swallows. "Mm," she absentmindedly remarks, enjoying the flavor of this prime tea, more expensive than she cares to admit.

"I wasn't aware that there were many-- Well, any, artistic souls among the Shinigami," she remarks without giving it the spontaneous and potentially offensive remark any further thought. Curious, she eyes the girl from across the table while taking another sip of the green liquid. "What sort of artistic outlets do you prefer, if I might ask?" As a former oiran, Tomie is a talented individual with quite a few skills in her repertoire, but there are some she has not yet even attempted. She cannot tailor, for instance, otherwise she would fix the kimonos herself. Nor can she paint. While her hand is steady, she never really had a particularly good feel for figures and shapes outside the abstract and calligraphic. She would definitely love to meet one, however.

Alas, the pleasant conversation seems to come to an abrupt end, as the guest hesitantly begins to recount her "true purpose" of visiting Moyamoyasumi. "Is that so?" The remark is inviting, cup between her hands as she observes the other woman speak. Whatever it is, the girl does not seem to think it is worthy of being business, it seems, judging by her heavy sigh.

A witch.

Seireitei had received complaints that she might be a witch. Formal complaints. The situation makes her want to laugh, but at the same time feel sad. Because none of the locals had even come close to observing her use any sort of magic whatsoever, yet they had gone through the process of filing the complaint to the military government based on their dislike for her. "So they have gone that far now," she mutters mostly to herself, supporting her chin with her palm. "These locals truly have grown to distrust me."

She looks over the girl, who seems more amused by the entire charade than anything, but realizes that the cryptic remarks will not improve the situation any. An explanation is in order, without a doubt. "Rumors in the district. They've been flourishing for a while now. People claim to have seen me transform other people into pigs and corrupted the minds of men." She huffs, takes another sip from the tea. You know, I need some stronger stuff if I am to deal with this today.

She gets up, turns around to face the shelf behind her and grabs a bottle of sake alongside two new cups. "I hope you don't mind," she gesticulates towards the sloshing white bottle without a lid. Placing both of the cups on the table, she ensures that her guest receives the first cup of alcohol. "I suspect they envy my success. Large business, wealthy owner, not native to the district. Of course it's natural to distrust me." She downs the cup, then pours herself another one. "But I've been here for over a hundred years now. Shouldn't they forget that I moved here in the first place?" The madam lets the rhetorical question hang in the air as she eyes the girl, realizing that she has just rambled to a complete stranger.

Embarrassed, she covers her mouth and bows for the... Investigator, would one call her that? "Apologies, Miss Hideaki. I've actually never been confronted with this before. The issue has frequently been tiptoed around, but never touched." Then she waves and empties the second cup, pours herself a third. The stinging liquid leaves a sour aftertaste, but it's nothing too bad. "And do not worry. You shouldn't shoot the messenger. It's just how the bureaucracy of Central 46 works, right?"

This is a strange day, she manages to conclude with sobriety, reflecting on how she is now drinking and venting to a complete stranger. Or is it an interrogation? She honestly cannot tell with these blurred lines and intentions.

It is whatever it is. And she doesn't mind.

Nanami smiled and nodded once. "Ah, I understood, then I suppose my part is to say that you needn't apologize as I was not trouble at all, but am glad you have arrived," her smile was, for a moment coy revealing her playful return. She was never great at obeying such rigid formality and wanted to do her best to reduce the tension and gravity that seemed to cling to their setting.

"Thank you, I shall, but I was still curious about any you might recommend?" she returned the genuine smile she was offered.

Tomie seemed to have a stronger will than she for hot tea, or perhaps that difference was simply patience. She had her doubts. "You might be surprised, even amongst the varied divisions many have their past times. It isn't all blades clashing, duty and honor, thankfully. There are many such individuals who cherish their quiet pastimes and hone artistic crafts in addition to the role they hold." If there was any offense taken from Tomie's remarks it didn't show. Nanami seemed wholly unbothered by the insinuation.

"Ah, that's a difficult question to answer," she said with a smile. Her artistic outlets were plentiful. "I have galleries full of my creations, painting, sculpting, engineering. I have shelves of poetry, songs and stories. I enjoy singing, although I fear that my voice may only sound pleasing to myself. I've tried a collection of instruments spreading cultures. Some I excel in, some I find impossible to hone no matter how much effort I put forth but all I seem to enjoy. In truth, it may be easier to say which artistic outlets I do not prefer, to which I might say, very few." She covered her mouth and gave a short quiet laugh. "I've had a great deal of time to fill with little to pursue besides whimsy." Her mirth faded for a moment leaving her glancing to the distant in short recollection. How she missed her arts, how she missed creation for the sake of creation and the pursuit of something new.

She was, perhaps, getting off track and returned to her original purpose. "Yes I am afraid it is," she responded briefly perhaps regretting what might tear this conversation off rails and ruin what could have been a perfectly splendid evening. Regardless, she pressed on.

Nanami frowned as the woman muttered quietly. "I can see there is only faint surprise in that gaze, that is perhaps worst of all. I would not take it personally, people covet the success of others, greed and pride are ugly things even in the best of times. Please take hard in the truth that the kind words I heard vastly outweigh the unkind. Many are grateful for the opportunity you have brought them, and I can say happily that there is much to be grateful for."

That dour expression turned Nanami's levity aside. This was clearly no joking matter for her host and she resolved to treat it brevity it deserved. Nanami took a long sip of her still too warm tea as Tomie recounted the accusations she had much already heard. She considered remarking upon the complementary nature of the second remark but abandoned the notion, another time perhaps.

"Of course not," she said graciously. She had no idea that her remarks would fuel this, but a bottle of sake was rarely something she would refuse. Nanami set her tea aside, likely to be abandoned there for awhile yet. Nanami accepted the cup with both hands bowing her head politely. She observed patiently waiting for her host to down the cup before joining her, a symbolic gesture of support she hoped and set the cup within reach as her host poured herself her second. "Immortal beings, if only time held such power to heal as it did for mortal lives." Nanami sighed.

"Another needless apology, you have done me no wrong and I hesitate in attempt to think that you would be capable of it. I owe you an apology, that is the second time you have addressed me as Miss Hideaki and I had meant to correct it the first time. Please, I prefer Nanami, if it doesn't bother you." Nanami inclined her head politely. A third cup, she truly had delivered some disturbing news.

"I fear that too is my fault," she remarked. "The issue very likely would have remained untouched for some time. A token response at best far down the line. I can safely say that I am wholly unconcerned and that no reprisal will be merited, officially of course. As much as I would like to blame bureaucracy, I fear my meddling is what has disquieted you, for that please forgive me."

Nanami tipped her head sincerely. The game was over, all that was left now was the simply hope that in the end there was something to salvage. Nanami wasn't one for secrets and games, she simply tried to play the role she thought might match her goals. Here it seemed to be to find a way to have her host warm up to her and in that regard it worked, from then on it was always curiosity learning what she could, adding more parts to the collection of faces and people she met. After spending so long in isolation nothing seemed to fascinate her more than all the wonderful intricacies of the people around her. It filled a void that she had once attempted to satisfy with hobbies.

"I must say what you have accomplished here is incredible, what drove you to begin such a business in a district you did not hail from?"

941/18/51 GP Total

"Ah, well," she ponders briefly, allowing her eyes to trail skywards, meeting the beige ceiling. What to recommend an artist? She doesn't want to insult her by insinuating that she cannot utilize certain instruments and by proxy, implying that she is inferior to her. "I take it you are familiar with Japanese instruments, then? The koto? Shamisen? Den-den daiko? I do offer both sessions and lessons with those. I was taught by the very best back in the day. So I do know quite a few, well, old-fashioned tunes. Not entirely up to date with the most recent trends." The madam sends Miss Hideaki a smile, then nods affirmatively, as if agreeing with her own statement.

"However, I am not familiar with..." She pauses, trying to think of the right, non-offensive words to add here. For how can she even describe outside instruments without potentially informing people who enjoys partaking in the outsider culture? "Non-Japanese instruments, I suppose. My indoctrination was rather narrow." And am I glad that is the case. Filthy aliens. In addition, she notes that this artist Hideaki hides, is more versatile than even herself. It is slightly intimidating to know that there are people out there who have had an amount of experiences that rival her own. But at the same time, Tomie takes solace in knowing that this woman has been tainted by outside influence and become impure - something she has not.

The way she refers to high culture, as "whimsy", is also something she takes offense in. After all, high culture is the epitome of a location's human efforts - even the lowest, most barbarians possess those, and "whimsy" is an insult to them all, but Japanese culture first and foremost.

The Shinigami official seems awfully sympathetic to her plight regarding the accusation of being a witch, seemingly going out of her way to express that they had still heard pleasant things about her, not just the not-entirely-unjust, but ultimately derogatory rumors. Perhaps she is just sugar-coating to make her feel better. Nonetheless, she appreciates the effort, despite the potential lie lurking behind it. "Oh, I don't take it personally," she handwaves, as if the words of encouragement had not touched her. "I take it as hurtful to my business, mostly. I am the face of Moyamoyasumi. I do not want it to be tarnished because of insults directed at my character, you see." Grabbing the tokkuri, she extends her hand towards Hideaki's cup, as a gesture to see if she wants another cup.

Nanami. Hideaki wants her to refer to her as "Nanami" straight off the bat. Internally, she scoffs at the very idea. She is not Hideaki's friend, she has just met the woman! Of course it bothers her. "It would be improper to do so, Miss Hideaki," she ascertains, taking a cautious sip of her cup of tea before putting it back down. "Utilizing such intimacy is not something befitting to do in the presence of a client." She sees where the girl is coming from. There is a rural feel to her, in spite of her status as a denizen of Seireitei, but perhaps she is reaching for something that is not there. After all, she has grown accustomed to correcting not just her employees, but the general populace when they become overly friendly with her.

"And please, do not worry about alerting me about the issue. I appreciate the honesty. I've had my suspicions for a while, but since none of residents have said it to my face before, I couldn't receive any confirmation whatsoever." Eyeing the girl across the table, she then proceeds to have her fourth cup of sake, awaiting judgmental looks accompanying the sip. While the liquid stings less now, she otherwise feels completely fine; it is the benefit of being a frequent and heavy drinker. "I will continue as I usually do and pay them no mind."

It is not like she did in the first place, anyway. In spite of her gracious and polite demeanor, the madam knows that the people of her district are below her and should therefore be treated as such, albeit with a healthy dose of discretion.

"I appreciate the compliment, Miss Hideaki, but this is hardly amazing. I am just glad that I am able to support the girls I employ and enrich the otherwise culturally barren district through them." She offers the girl a red-lipped smile, still refraining from exposing her teeth, as she tips her head before her guest. "And I suppose several factors contributed to my decision to come here. The demand for oiran was declining rapidly back in the day, so I gradually started to lose footing in the market." Hand firmly grasping the small cup, Tomie stares at the roof while reminiscing about the days past. It had been so hard to get back on the streets following the... Incident. Doing what she had done offered a way for her to get away from those issues mostly scot-free . "I wanted to pursue a career where I would still be able to do what I had done for the past centuries. My decision to move to a district that is less modern proved fruitful in that regard."

Fruitful and degrading. To think I had to flee.

The bitterness lingers still, but only as a fleeting thought this time along. But that alone is enough to attract what could be considered "unwanted attention". It comes from within the walls, thin as they are. A thick goop of black gunk seeps to the floor, trickling from the roof as well. It oozes and seethes as it moves towards the girl on the opposite side of the table, hands gradually forming, reaching, as they try to cling to the fabric of her clothes. A head, pale and featureless, emerges from the muddy substance as the hands hoist the body out of the black bog, clinging to the white-haired woman. The puddle of slime gradually shrinks, until the entire torso is out, holding onto the madam's guest for dear life.

And a hearty hello to you too, house kami.

Of course, the thing no one else can see had to come and make the situation sour. It also ignores her thought-conveyed message and continues with its incessant tapping on the girl's body, which still yields no sound after all this time. But two could play that game.

While she had been following it with her eyes for a while, Tomie shifts her attention towards Hideaki. "Would you care for some more sake?"

Nanami smiled, tapping her lips slowly as she gave consideration to the instruments listed. "In truth, I find myself on the opposite side of things. My lean towards music happened in the last few centuries, so my leanings are much more western leaning. To answer your question, yes I have some familiarity with those instruments but little in practice or skill. I think that might be perfect, I would love to learn from you, if you don't mind me shedding a bit of my rust as I settle in. It has been a few years."

Nanami smirked for a moment. She was so careful in her use of language, feigned self depreciation to serve as a guise her true opinion. "A careful choice of words miss Magahara, I believe the better term is specialization or perhaps dedication. Something I fear I've never been terribly well versed with personally," she shrugs helplessly, it's not bother after all. Her joy from the arts came as a distraction, something to fill endless time with. She enjoyed it, but never with the passion and talent of a truly gifted and dedicated individual. Perhaps it was time to change that.

"That is good," Nanami smiled. Nanami doubted her for a moment, certain she was a little more offended on a personal level than she was willing to admit, perhaps even to herself. "Well I should hope your business remains as strong as ever, perhaps that is a sign of how ineffectual these accusations are, and will continue to be? Your status as outside will fade, as all things like that do." Nanami happily handed over her cup to her.

"Ah, of course, call me whatever you are comfortable with Miss Magahara, forgive my impertinence. I have never been especially gifted at," she pauses to do much the same as Tomie had done moments prior, "proper formalities." She smiled openly, there was no offense at the correction, the familiarity had been offered easily and rescinded just the same. Perhaps a few more drinks would change her opinion on the matter, but with the fourth drink rapidly disappearing Nanami wondered if the stuff had any effect on such a woman.

"I see, still the information on this incident is still so vague. We've only received the one formal complaint, so it could very well be one disgruntled individual spreading such nonsense." She shrugged helplessly. "A wise course of action I think, best for yourself and your business, in my humble opinion of course." It was probably best to simply ignore such people and move on, even as Nanami wished to personally seek out and put an end to such childishness, and formally express the Seireitei's displeasure at time being wasted on such frivolities.

Even if she was having a good time.

She quietly giggled at Tomie's indiscrete joke and the smile. An Oiran? That caught Nanami for a moment, an eyebrow raised second of shown curiosity. Was it a point of pride for the woman? Nanami had always thought of people in such professions as pitiable, an existence worldwide that was somehow tragic for their necessity but the Oiran were a higher sort than the typical women employed. Perhaps she took pride, and Nanami could certainly appreciate why. Taking formality seriously gave a strength of character found nowhere else, and while Nanami had no taste for it she admired those that did. "And it seems you've found it," she said with a simple gesture to the building around them.

Nanami watched her gaze drift and shade. A sort of distance that Nanami knew all to well. She'd watched that look for centuries, with centuries long emotions that changed in time. Annoyance. Frustration. Longing. Curiosity and Understanding. That was the look of those seeing a thing unseen by others, of a companionship.

Perhaps it was the sake catching up with her.

Nanami gave her a polite smile and put such thoughts aside for the moment at the offer of another drink. "Oh, gods, yes," she smiled feeling the warmth of her second drink already spread through her. "Perhaps it is the drink I've already had but I wanted to ask, and feel free to decline a response if it is inappropriate," like she said, she never had a gift for formalities. "Might I ask how long you've lived in Soul Society? The reason I even ask is because there is something familiar between us, even though I am sure we have never met before, Miss Magahara."

She waved her hand once. “Please, as I said, feel free to decline. I do not mean to probe so personally.”

769/15/66 GP Total

Western-leaning. Eurgh. In spite of her mental rebuttal, she maintains a concentrated facial expression, nodding slightly as the girl speaks. So it seems she can treat Hideaki as a student in the only field of music that truly matters. The prospect delights her, even though she fears that the girl will regard it in a comparative manner to her barbaric influences. "Most excellent, Miss Hideaki. I do not mind rusty at all. After all, as previously mentioned, I am accustomed to showing people the ropes."

The girl is rather impetuous in her opinion, but then again, this has just about applied to every Shinigami she has had the dubious pleasure of growing acquainted with thus far. Certainly, she is no Kasumi Shinoda, the girl who spoke as plainly to as her if she'd have been her life-long friend. She had even called her "granny", which is not something she ever will take lightly, or forgive for that matter. Despite her relative discourteous behavior, it at least seems like Hideaki has the dignity to take a step back when her attempt at gaining familiarity failed. Then again, there is a distinct difference in mannerism when comparing her to Shinoda. The latter is, as far as she knows, far younger than Hideaki.

Regardless, judging by her guest's manner of speaking and general unappreciative nature towards Japanese culture, this girl has been poisoned by Western beliefs, which she finds thoroughly repulsive. Someone ought to put this girl on the right track again, though that may be difficult; teaching old dogs new tricks is not easy. If the lady happens to be old, that is.

"Ah, well," she mutters, bringing down the kiseru pipe stuck in her hairdo and fills it with some fruit tobacco attached to a box located next to it. Lighting a match by rasping against the side of the table, a sign of her loosening inhibitions, she lets the flame lightly caress the soft materials inside the pipe for a few seconds before putting it out. "Please don't consider your opinion humble. You are my guest, in addition to an military officer with considerably more worldly experience than me." If she had been alone, she would have used the far more convenient method of fire magic to light the pipe, but in the presence of a figure of authority, she does not want to risk being detected, like she had been with Enyo. She had weaseled herself out of that encounter with a stroke of luck.

A coy smirk peeks out through the corner of her mouth as she pours her guest a hearty refill. Hideaki has become quite red-faced already, seemingly from the consumption of alcohol. Admittedly, she can't see the girl's entire face, as the spirit is currently obscuring half her face with its shriveled talons, scraping metronomically without leaving any marks. The cheeks are relatively visible, though, and those have a rosy glow. An internal chuckle fills her as she makes sure to remember that not everyone are as experienced with alcohol consumption as she is.

Although she must admit that she initially finds Hideaki's suggestive question disgruntling, at least given how she decided to start the formulation, Tomie finds the inquiry in its entirety interesting. It is quite the personal question, indeed, asking a lady about her age like that. But given the girl's mannerisms, general demeanor and nothing short of impressive range of artistic achievements, it is not entirely unjustified, as she might be, well, fairly old herself.

This will be tougher to swallow than sake.

She has lost count of just how much she has downed thus far, but the tokkuri is gradually growing lighter by the minutes. With a sigh, she takes a cautious sip of the cup again. The tale has to start somewhere. "I honestly do not know." She stares at nothing in particular, eyes not drawn to the ghost writhing around the white-haired military officer for once. Reminiscing, her gaze meets the empty atmosphere around them, sometimes flitting up as she tries to recall the myriad of memories. "I do know that it has been a long time, though. Back when I was alive... We had no culture. We lived in huts, cultivated what we could. Tiny villages. No sense of belonging. No concrete deities to worship. People died all the time. The village was eventually slaughtered by barbarians. I was fortunate enough to escape, but couldn't survive on my own." Bitterness. It envelops her as these thoughts run rampant once more. She has lost track of long it has been since this happened, but never forgotten it; the grudge burns ever fiercely with its lilac flame.

Chocolate eyes, expansive and round, trail down to Nanami Hideaki's figure, calm but wondering. "I've been here ever since. Watched Soul Society change. Watched modern thoughts, inventions and systems appear. Integrated them. Lived them. Left them. Spread them." Eyes trail down again, as if shamed by the years burdened on her shoulders. "Seen people come and go, as well. Seen them forget me, and in turn, forgetting them too."

Holding out her hand, she catches a speck of dust floating in the air, letting it rest in her hand where it is illuminated by the light from the window. It settles into her palm like a sleeping chick in a nest, completely at peace. "Things are so very," Gently, Tomie squeezes her palm together. The speck is no more when she opens it. "Transient."

With the unclasping of her hand, she lets it rest along the side of her body and gazes into Hideaki's eyes. "What about you, Miss Hideaki? What is your background? You do seem to carry yourself beyond the years your face hold, if I get to say so."

"Excellent!" she exclaimed happily, leaning forward as she smiled warmly. "That sounds like it would be an excellent experience. In truth I've never had any proper tutelage, out of necessity, so I'm delighted by the notion of finally learning from someone properly trained."

As terse as Tomie had been with her, Nanami felt like the woman was warming up to her at least slightly. She wasn't sure, however. It's hard to judge with someone used to dealing with guests and using smiles to disguise the true feelings. She had hoped her time in the second would help her here, but it was so long ago and Tomie seems adept at the act. She'd do well there, if she ever had the inclination.

It was a thought that Nanami was wise enough not to share.

She watched with some interest as Tomie sets and lights her pipe. The scent was pleasant even though Nanami found the act of smoking bizarre in and of itself. "I might suggest that is an assumption, at least where experience comes in. But at the very least do not consider my military ranking as to suggest I wield any such authority here. This is your business, in it I am a guest. I am for all intents and purposes off-duty." Though she supposed the sword made such a declaration somewhat flat she still wished to try to put the woman at ease. It was a vein act to be sure.

Alcohol might help, she hoped. She took the glass gratefully and drank it, perhaps a bit slower than before. The taste was suitable but then she never drank for that purpose. Alcohol was a tool, and more than she hoped that her host might relax under its effect it seemed like she was the type to drink endlessly with little effect. Instead, she hoped that her own inebriation might serve to put her host at ease. People underestimated the drunk, and often for good reason. She was no prized drinker, but she hoped she'd at least keep herself more or less in check.

The question landed with its expected result. Her host seemed uncomfortable for a long moment. She considered apologizing, but decided better of it and resumed the quiet sipping of her cup. The tale began curiously, confirming what she'd already known. Nanami had no memories of her mortal life, but she'd studied the likely periods, put together what information she could. Japan, a time before the land became what it was today. She liked to imagine that she was a great warrior, but no such records existed. The meat of Nanami's interest came from the shared experience she now knew they had. Two people standing as witnesses to the passage of time. Existing beyond sensations of time.

The people though, that was perhaps where it was different. Time seemed to be a weight to her host, a burden whereas to Nanami felt like an absent passenger. She was affected by it, but carried little with her. She kept her gaze on her host, leaning forward again to show her interest and listened patiently as she went on.

Transient. A perfect word. Her curiosity was peaked by the trick but she said nothing, turned her gaze from the open palm back to her host's eyes.

"It would be only fair. You are correct, I have existed by my estimation almost two-thousand years. I know nothing of my 'life' before awakening alone in the vast empty reaches of the Soul Society. A different place, a different world. From near the very beginning I carried this sword, long before the Seireitei held its dominion over Soul Society." Her memories of such events were clear and crisp, they faded in between the significant events and moments. "I've fought in battles great and terrible, see a sea of faces now in the people I meet."

She smiled faintly. "Up until very recently had I shown my face in the Seireitei, they might have taken my head," she said and very quietly took a long sip of her drink.

"Transient. A perfect word." A word that seemed to save Nagisa many nights ago. "Things change, the inventions, the politics, the faces, but ultimately everything is very much the same as it ever was." Even she was no exception, although she wished to believe that it was now changing.

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The woman seems rather pleased with the arrangement they have made, even though it has only consisted of throwing ideas back and forth in a manner that is far too casual for the madam's liking. Nonetheless, her emotions are to be placed on the sideline, as the guest's needs come before her own, as should they, and is satisfied with having made an excellent business arrangement; especially given how, well, wealthy the Shinigami tend to be compared to Rukongai citizens, it's not exactly unfair of her to raise the price a bit either. Even if she likes Hideaki, she is going to try to turn a profit where possible.

And sting Seireitei's finances where she can.

That is, after all, what Hideaki unfortunately is: an extension of Seireitei's iron-clad, mud-filled will, weak and compromising beneath its immaculate surface. An ant with no clear goal, strong on her own, undermining the system.

Just like this, claiming to be a guest, bringing a blade into her esteemed business, smiles ablaze and sake in cup. Smiles are something Hideaki receives in return, aplenty as a matter of fact, before she had posed the killer question of potent memories.

Solemn now, she attentively listens as her white-haired guest, covered by the mush of the house kami, hands stretching out of the tangible goop occasionally, clawing across the girl's thorax and chest. Two thousand years? So she has been here for about as long as me, then. But without the memories I had to endure.

The green bug of jealousy stings her neck as she tries to forget the injust actions done to her, imagine herself as a tabula rasa like Nanami Hideaki had been when she arrived in Seireitei, lost, confused and blissfully oblivious to the hardships of the real world. She is certain that she has learned that the world they live in is by no means an place where one cannot easily eke out a living, the woman is about as old as herself, but she'd give anything to have been able to start over as a new person in a new place.

Except she wouldn't.

Grandma, children, village. My own life, gone before I could bid proper farewell.

Wicked memories rest, yet never completely at ease, floating, fleeting, tormenting her whenever the word "history" is brought up. She doesn't want to forget the plummet that took her life, the abuse she had suffered at the hands of barbarians, the rustic idyll of monotony, the sight of Wa's cliffs from the sea, the earthy scent of harvest, the rhythm of drums, a harmony of voices lost in the crevices of time.

"You must certainly have taken up a more active role than I did, then, Miss Hideaki," she proclaims with much afterthought, staring into her own cup of sake, taking notice of its growing emptiness. She gives the tokkuri a cautious shake as to examine its fullness; it is nearly empty. She is barely tipsy too. This won't do.

Sending Hideaki a reassuring smile, elbow resting firmly on the table, palm supporting her chin, she ignores the mess of a creature that has gradually become less stable atop of the girl. Slowly, dreadfully so, Tomie notices that it has started to slide off, likely to slink back into the walls from whence it came. "I am curious, though, Miss Hideaki," the authenticity of her intent unquestionable. "If you consider yourself such an artist, did you paint with blood too, when you fought in the many battles great and terrible?"

The blob hastens, sliding away faster than it did before, leaving Hideaki bare, vulnerable to words morbid and ill-fitting for a lady such as herself. After the soldier had mused about how fitting the word "transient" had been, this question seems out of place, shifting the shadows of the room, dimming the light.

But just as quickly as they had grown darker, the veil departs with a hearty sigh and the madam rising. "It seems we are almost out of sake. I should find another bottle." Heart-shaped lips, stiffened in a clownish smile, and the bright eyes, burning with an intense desire to know, are the last things that face Hideaki before Tomie leaves the room, only to retrieve a new bottle from the shelves behind the counter and make a swift return.

"There we go," she proclaims, placing the glass on the table with a placid smile, as if nothing ever happened.

Nanami leaned back for a moment, considering the woman sitting before her, she hadn't expected to encounter anything of note, perhaps a woman of means and power that others resented and to a certain point her expectations were entirely met, but digging a bit deeper there was much more to the woman than there should have been. This should have been an entirely routine and empty mission, one that dispelled a silly rumor and freed her to enjoy herself on the Seireitei's time. To be fair, she certainly was enjoying herself but something had hooked her, rested on the edge of her mind and kept her from relaxing, which was likely a good thing considering the volume of alcohol being consumed at such a rapid pace.

The shift was immediate from practiced courtesy to silent attention the moment the aspect of the past came up between them, Nanami noted how well she kept such feelings close to her, a gift she had developed during her time in the Second, which is when the thought strikes her. It's a quiet suspicion owing more to a gut feeling and a leap of assumption more than any brilliant deduction but she holds it in her mind and explores it while they talk.

She had never known or understood the importance of ones mortal life, it had essentially ended absolutely, for those who lost their memories there was nothing to mourn, but for those who held on to them how much could one mourn an ultimately insignificant part of their life for so long? The passage of time was meant to heal all wounds and yet these people held not scars, but festering wounds from their memories of Earth. Was this an element associated with the reason they held on to their memories?

Stupid, she chided herself. Pot calling the kettle black as she considered her own origins in the Soul Society, some things were simply difficult to let go.

"I'd like to claim that's true but it feels like all of the things I'd done in my long life have simply been frivolous, a forgotten legacy. If I truly had a hand in shaping the world, I'd like to believe it might have turned out better." She smiled sadly for a moment but brightened as she noticed Tomie leaning forward, chin resting on her open palm as if about to share a secret.

The question she asked instead struck her into a sudden silence, did she notice the immediate tightness in Nanami's muscles? Was she aware of how dry her mouth suddenly became? Did she hear Nanami's heart which raced suddenly with repulsion?

Repulsion? Wasn't it delight? Wasn't it joy at the hope of sharing her greatest works? Perhaps of being given an excuse at making one? Bare your fangs and give me an excuse.

Only a moment, only a fleeting moment. She covered her mouth and burst into a quiet fit of giggles a bright smile returning to her blushing face. "Miss Magahara, I must say that's bolder than I ever expected, or do you happen to ask all of your guests such morbid questions?" At least buy a girl a drink first.

Oh. Right.

It was alcohol that had exposed her, she decided adamantly as she pulled her armor back over her. She took a moment to collect herself as Tomie rose up, moved to collect another bottle of that dangerous liquid. Nanami tapped a short rhythm along the table with her middle and fore-finger stopping as Tomie re-entered the room.

She wished she could read people, as simple as her books. It'd be addictive, she'd probably never stop. How frustrating to never be certain of the truth because of a well controlled smile or carefully chosen words. Always trying to find the set of words, or the approach, to get someone to be open with her, to be honest. The more they kept up the mystique the more she found herself drawn to find the truth.

A problem, she would be the first to admit.

Nanami smiled openly at Tomie as she returned to the room, set the glass down. "Miss Magahara, may I ask why the sudden interest in the violent side of my past?" She watched her closely, it would be easy, infuriatingly easy to shield her true intent and in that she would have to cede and press no further.

She was, after all, a guest.

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She'd hit jackpot, and faster than she had even anticipated. Sitting in her seat, squirming and fumbling, eyes flickering and pupils contracting and expanding more frequently than they should; she has made Hideaki nervous by pinching just the right fold of skin and twisted it in her grasp, all the while gazing into the pleading eyes with plump lips formed into a circle.

A giggle ensues, bright teeth, the ones of a predator, are put on display as the white-haired artist of a warrior tries to downplay what has just transpired. Her cheeks flush as she puts on her innocent facade, hand covering her mouth as she feigns ignorance to the accusation.

Tomie had seen it.

The fear.

The fear of being detected. The fear of being stigmatized as an outcast, a loner. A deviant.

It is a fear she is all too familiar with, a fear she has seen in mirrors and ponds, kettles and pots, blades and lanterns. A fear she could not escape, a fear she saw in the same dark brown eyes every time she was faced with her own reflection when in company of the wretched deity of the tea house.

It is a fear she intimately knows and one she has embraced.

Her eyes never shine with the same anxious intensity and paranoia anymore; they are calm, clouded with what she likes to think of as enigma and siphon the light of whatever they linger on.

She is not afraid anymore.

As she goes to fetch more sake, Tomie leaves Hideaki pining, so she can sauté in her own misery until she returns to answer the question. If she is to claim that doing so makes her feel bad, then she is a liar. The madam wholeheartedly enjoys this, much more than engaging in the petty rumors of her supposed witchcraft, and would rather prolong this process for as long as possible.

When she does make her return, with deliberate steps and smiles aplenty, she does, of course, go out of her way to keep up the charades, smooth over the bumps and hitches on the ride of their conversation, before jamming the verbal needle back inside, twisting it in the wound with no outward expressions of joy. But inside, she is smiling, her twisted Cheshire grin. "I apologize if I come across as bold, Miss Hideaki," she beams cautiously, as is most natural to her in a precarious situation like this. "But I do find it difficult to contain my curiosity. I am, and always have been, but a civilian. I have never gotten to experience the hardships of war."

She leans in, opaque eyes attempting to drag the white-haired girl even closer, as she rests her chin on her knuckles. "Or the pleasures."

Hushed tones whisper with secretive euphony, shivering with raspy anticipation, before she withdraws and pours herself a phlegmatic smile on her lips, red and confident.

"Would you call it the violent side of your past," she takes a sip from the cup, emulating an exaggerated femininity, as she closes her eyes and lets the bitter liquid down her gullet. "Or the violent side of you?"

Lustrous eyes stare from across both cup and table as she brings it up to her lips again, emptying it as a sign of defiance to the iron grip of intoxication, before placing her elbows on the table again, leaning against her palm, scrutinizing Nanami Hideaki. "Is there even a particular reason why all of you carry around swords like that? I do not recall having seen anyone wield anything other than a, what is it called again?" Her eyes trail to the ceiling as she ponders briefly. "Zanpakutou, is that it?"

Nanami was in the very presence of a predator, and in truth seeing that side show itself did more for her nerves than wondering what, if any, shoe was going to drop. She returned that twisting wide grin with a soft smile of her own, but she knows that it's a thin veneer. She considered briefly what she might have done to warrant the attention and in her mind two answers come, one Nanami has met this woman in the past, some ill fated moment where their paths crossed. Two, Nanami didn't disguise her nature as well as she hoped, or this woman held a natural talent of observation.

Then again perhaps option three, the woman was a witch.

She'd been disquieted by the sudden shift but rallied well. This was not her first time in the hot seat over the nature of her being, a hostess owner, no matter the strange spark she held, measured up to the heat of the now Captain Hi-to Kohara and the guillotine he held over Nanami once upon a time.

Nanami nodded simply along with her explanation as if it was perfectly reasonable. Ah, she realized to some regret, a new game had begun. Were they both going to continue along with some veil of illusion that they both didn't know the unusual nature of the situation?

No, perhaps that was it, neither could pretend that the other didn't realize it, and in that there was an ironic sense of honesty. She played along.

"Pleasures?" Nanami smiled politely and tilted her head. It seems that her host had quite the misunderstanding of the nature of violence, or perhaps she simply saw an opportunity to prod at her guest, was it the sword at her hip?

"A worthy question," she notes appearing as though she's considering it for a moment. She's slowed her drinking, perhaps more accurately she's stopped drinking altogether when realizing that keeping pace with the woman was a fool's errand.

"Zanpakuto," she says brightly setting the cup down and leaning forward, shortening the distance between them as if in response to the obvious scrutiny. "It is our trademark weapon, though it does hold its variations by individual preference. It is the house of our soul, an element of it, known as the Zanpakuto Spirit. Teacher, mentor, guide, friend, the role varies. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept?" She smiled.

"To answer your previous question, the former. I've had time long enough to grow bored of violence for the sake of it. I'm sure you know, the nature of a long life, to look back and see a stranger? Though I suppose there's some element of static in our lives at time as well." She spoke confidently, this was, after all, a fresh revelation for her. Nanami had won victory over herself, it was how she held the position she did now. The whispering voice had finally grown silent.

Still, why had this discussion shown Nanami the first ounce of genuine interest from her host?

Nanami tapped her chin and shifted forward, giving her host a watchful gaze. "I'm curious, though, with such fascination, why did you never turn to the Shinigami? Souls don't live as long as ours without some form of fire stoking them, you clearly hold the potential."

"Not that there isn't a host of reasons, of course, I understand completely. I'm just wondering, which is yours?"

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So feigning ignorance is the best the girl can do when faced with the shadow she casts with such blissful obliviousness. It leaves her feeling dissatisfied, truth be told, as even the most furious of prodding, with innocuous intent and soft fingers, appears to be ineffective. She had hoped for more, for something other than self-pity and shame.

What this "more" she had expected entails, she is not certain. Something else, something secret, something dark.

But Hideaki decides to play good little soldier, it seems, instead, with careful sips of the vessel in doe-hearted mannerisms. Anyone can do that, even she, the madam with no experience with holding anything larger than a kitchen knife. Or a scythe, if she is to look past the veil of recent memories and back into the void centuries of humility. The point is anyone can pretend to be good; she's good at it, adept with coddling these children who surround her, envelop her, swallow her very existence into a pointless pulp.

And anyone can pretend to be bad too. It just takes the right lighting, atmosphere and mindset to transform into a cackling witch with crazed eyes.

Games like that can be fun, without a doubt.

But finding truly what shade of grey one's own soul has been dyed, that's the proper fun, there. How much has the years of ink stained her soul? Was it white enough to stand the murk?

She has plenty of time to ponder on these questions herself, so she instead shoves Hideaki Nanami into this position. How dark is the 2000 year old Tabula Rasa in front of her? How many times have she tried to bleach the stains?

"Well, I suppose I might have phrased myself poorly there, I apologize," she ponders, fanning herself outwards as she rolls as eyes as to gesticulate how stupid she found her own question. Except she doesn't, but Hideaki doesn't need to know that. "I just imagine that being a soldier is a heavy burden compared to the uneventful life of a civilian. How many monsters can you fight before your very being becomes dyed by their splattered blood? How many before people turn their eyes on you and ask themselves if they're watching monster or man?" Or woman, she notes mentally.

She shuffles slightly in her seat, eyeing the floor to the left of her to purposefully show embarrassment. "That's how I've always seen it from my little perch throughout our history. Call me cynical if needs be." Her gaze gently raises itself, carefully avoiding the white-haired woman's brown pupils as they find their way to her face, an exercise of indoctrinated humility.

Tomie had parted the veil and let a light sprinkle of honesty pour out, filtered as par the course, naturally. It truly is a reflection of selective parts of the reasoning behind her feelings, leaving out the more vulgar details as she always will do.

Nonetheless, it seems they are progressing towards a topic of far more interest than the philosophies of a hated person. These swords called Zanpakutou.

Her guest seems more than happy to freely elaborate on it, something she has never had the pleasure of experiencing prior, causing her to lean forwards, knuckle resting against her mouth with brows burrowing deeper as she attentively listens.

So there's a thing inside the sword? A spirit? This leaves her feeling increasingly befuddled.

A spirit?

The thing is back now, after having left her guest be for a while. It hangs in the back of the room, eavesdropping on the conversation with the gnarled hands outstretched, the bottom of her robes not even touching the floor. Her back is hunched, face leaning in towards the conversation, hair dripping black fluid that disappears as it trickles onto the floor.

Spirit.

Her heart sinks.

Deep beyond her body, into a pit beneath the ground, further and further until it is devoured by the dormant darkness below, leaving the husk to stay at the tea party. This can't be the case. This isn't how it works. This is not how it works. It goes against everything she is supposed to be, supposed to do, supposed to feel.

She already resents nigh everything, and now she is supposed to resent herself too?

This thing has to be something else, something insignificant, something poorly understood.

And just as reality shatters and she is forced to stand still, gazing vacantly over her guest's shoulder, the echo of the jingling glass ceases, a voice speaking through the squeaking silence.

Uncharacteristically bamboozled, she looks over to the girl, face even paler than before, bordering on ashen grey now. "I was. Not." Choppy words follow, as she swallows to take a break and gather the shards. "That's definitely news to me." She drinks from the cup as to quench the shock, to no avail. "I was always under the impression that it was just standard equipment handed out to every Shinigami that graduates. We civilians aren't acquainted with your system, you see."

As soon as she gets back on the track of logic and explanation, she feels like the the ground is solid again, if perhaps cracked. Once more, she sends a smile to Hideaki, as to reassure her that she definitely is not losing her mind.

Yet, she finds that she is not nearly as stable as before. Composed, perhaps, but concerned, deep down. Hideaki looks back and sees a stranger. I look back and see injustice surrounding me. The face is always me, never someone else. I am me. I have always been me. She empties the cup with the following gulp.

"Ah, well, I never had any desires outside of wearing flowing robes, elegant shoes, being of service to those who wish to seek company and a gateway to high culture. My calling has always been to this profession, never to the grime of the military." The last part of the sentence is almost spat out, but she retains just enough serenity to lower the animosity to reasonable levels, perhaps making it seem as if she merely disapproves of their crudeness, which she does.

"I don't understand these youngsters over here who proclaim that they want to be Shinigami and gamble all of their kan going to the white city while hoping to take on the black mantle. So many return home with shattered dreams. Those who don't just show up with a condescending attitude and showboat, even if they're just students who have not yet graduated. The youth can be so arrogant." She pours herself another drink and rests her chin on her knuckle, letting a hearty sigh out.

Nothing quite like ragging on the younger generations.

She caught the disappointment, even if she wasn't entirely certain why it existed. She was growing quickly fatigued with this sort of intrigue driven game. A conversation guised as something not unlike a battle was far from what she wanted now, especially with the amount of Sake drifting through her veins.

She laughed good-naturedly with the apology, nothing too grand but polite enough to suggest there was nothing at all to apologize for. "There are some to which service is a burden to, truth told I was much the same, but it was never the conflict with Hollow's that caught me. In truth, that when the job is most simple," she mused pushing out quiet thoughts of a certain winged creature. "It's hard to look at the delivery of that duty as anything so vulgar as murder when it's more akin to ensuring the natural order. A soul dies, we help pass it on, when we can't we free it of the shackles of the monster it becomes." She spoke matter of factly, a darkness hanging in the background of her words.

She was quick to expose it. "But unfortunately that is not all there is to the Shinigami, for one foolish reason or another." She pauses for a moment, weighs consideration and shrugs. "You've been a gracious host," she says, building unnecessarily. "It's true, such things have a way of weighing upon you one way or the other, I once decided that I was done with such things. A criminal whose punishment was to be execution. I lived on Earth for nearly three hundred years in fact until a rather recent return." She smiled easily, amused. She liked telling this story if only for the range of reactions it earned.

The bit about the Zanpakuto seemed to have caught her host's interest. Nanami noted it and perked up slightly. So far her host had been a rather elusive puzzle but the pieces had been collecting and now it seemed she had an opportunity to put a few together. Nanami watched with mounting interest as the words hit like she'd physically delivered them. She didn't delight in the discomfort, but the mystery was alluring enough to press on. "I'm surprised," she noted almost absently in her increasingly obvious observation. "I'd have thought you'd know." The emphasis is left vague on purpose.

She smiled faintly, perhaps attempting to play oblivious. The lesson continued. "The Asauchi is given to all recruits, from there that part of their soul has a place to grow. Imprinted, so to speak, by its owner." It would make sense, Nanami decided, that she wasn't fully aware of it. The Shinigami were surrounded in a great deal of mythology crafted by the citizens of the Rukongai, a fact that the Shinigami had little interest in correcting. She entertained notions that her host would be better informed, but realized that there were few exceptions. "From there that bond grows overtime."

Still, she couldn't shake off that feeling, the sensation of similarity. It was more than their age she knew as much.

"And well that it is so, your aspirations have led to a place of beauty. I hope you take it as the compliment that I intend when I say these dour black robes would be ill-fitting on you." Her host has rallied, Nanami decided, but it's difficult to help herself from pressing a little further. It clicked moments ago but not in any form of certainty.

"There is a great appeal in the life of the Shinigami, less from the reality of it than the manufactured ideal they've established. It's the easy answer to the difficult question: what will I do with my life? Amusing how it's as true here as it is in the world of the living."

A brief silence followed, save the sound of the pouring drink. Nanami decided to take the gamble.

"Did you know that all Shinigami have a tell when they speak with their Zanpakuto spirit? Well, most anyway, my spirit is gratefully rather silent in my day to day, and only really speaks when I take the time to speak with her. Others, most really, have more nosy spirits and they all have a tell. It can be as simple a furtive glance to one side perhaps, a simple unexplainable expression change, others actually mouth the words they speak in reply." Nanami gave a brief laugh at that. "The younger ones usually do, anyway." She lets a moment pass before continuing.

"Miss Magahara, may I ask what it is that you keep looking at?"

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Surprised? That makes no sense at all. No one in the Rukongai aside from perhaps family members or lovers could know how a these relationships with the Zanpakutou, how something inhabit these swords and contribute to the person's being. For all she knew, for all Mai knew, Momohime knew, the tailor knew, heck, even what Fuuyuko, who has probably held hands with more than a few black-robed dirtbags, knew, those things they carry around are just swords.

Just how well-acquainted is this woman with the commoners of the Rukongai? Are they merely meat for her cleaver when she has to do dirty deeds? Perhaps she surrounds herself with people from the upper districts, which are more popular with the Shinigami, therefore also more likely to be properly informed about the abilities they harness. They even have noble houses closely associated with the Seireitei, now also subject to her scorn. Though, she has heard rumors regarding their downfall alongside that of a certain loathed organization, but as with most rumors down here, they tend to have a muddled origin and equally muddled credibility.

Yet, even in this puddle of ankle-deep anxiety, she finds relief in an unexpected place: the mention of Earth. It's a tangent of familiarity, plucked on the string of nostalgia in her chest. There is almost the contour of a smile on her lips as she cranes her neck to straighten out her back. The string ceases to play and sour disappointment brews through her; she hoped Hideaki would elaborate on how it is these days. Alas, she remains in the dark for now, sipping ever more intently as she listens and processes.

She certainly is learning new things about the blades, though, that's for sure. However, the more she intently absorbs the new information presented to her, the more she regrets ever wishing to know it. If only... If only she had talked more about the Earth. Delicate fingers put the empty cup back on the table, eyes still drawn to the snow-cloaked woman's visage. It seems that she has entirely given up drinking alongside her. What a buzzkill. Perhaps she can coax the woman into toasting with her later. Oh what a reaction she might get from that.

With a snide giggle in her mind, her eyes stray a bit to the right now, beyond her guest, who is still talking.

The thing is still there.

But this time, she lets her eyes move past it and onto something else, a detail of sorts, trivial in nature. The tatami looks uneven in that corner. I ought to straighten it out after this visit. One of the flowers in a vase is crooked; it spites her with its refusal to bend to the rest of the symmetry of the ikebana arrangement. Her eyes move back to Hideaki now, more confident, more willing to challenge and not submit to potential judgment.

"I am afraid not," she replies, genuine bedazzlement accompanying her voice as she grabs the teeny cup and lets it rest in the grasp of both her hands. "As I said previous, the inner machinations of the military remain a mystery to the general population. As it should be, I should note. There is no use letting the masses gain insight what makes the military tic. Judging by the contents of the history books I have read, they have a sorry tendency to resort to uproars most uncouth when faced with the harsh truth." She stops herself the moment she realizes that the tangent might be going a bit off-key, into the territory of academics.

Hastily, her index and middle fingers dart to her mouth as to demonstrate surprise. At this point, it's a gesture of instinct brought on by a variety of actions of apparent social faux pas; this time she doesn't even excuse herself, letting the body language speak for her.

She spends the rest of the conversation, or rather, briefing, if one can call it that, mostly in silence, fidgeting with her cup as she takes occasional sips and pours herself a new one every once in a while.

Tomie doesn't buy it, the notions pressed forwards by her guest. Perhaps it's easy for the Shinigami to decide upon a purpose in life, but this does not equate to a good or even morally sustainable choice of lifestyle. It all rubs her the wrong way, the way they look down upon the masses, on her, as if they are some kind of cattle to be attended to. They are all people with facets of personalities, stories and quirks that make them them.

To Seireitei, they are nonetheless just numbers to facilitate and attend to.

Not even Hideaki's vague enthusiasm for the Rukongai, nor her rather humane approach to the situation can change this.

So in the burrows of her stomach, Tomie feels a vague hint of pity manifest and churn, gradually spreading to her spine and to her eyes as she ponders what sort of incident could have resulted in a naivete like this in a bimillennial.

After a stint of silence, with more aggressive drinking on her behalf, her guest drops even more information about the machinations of the Zanpakutou. Where is she going with this? Brows furrow with every cautious contour of a slurping sound, every syllable uttered by the guest. The laughter does not strike her as a touch genuine, sounding forced with brevity to well-trained, if inebriated ears. If this is going where she thinks it is, there is no question that she does not like it.

But not for the reason Hideaki might think.

She is more confident about what she has seen now, especially in regards of what she has been told, what's typical about these spirits inhabiting the swords of Shinigami. What she sees, the creature she sees, seems to be so vastly different from what has been described here. Perhaps it's a sign of her losing sanity, perhaps it's still a house kami.

As of now, she is certain that it is not what Hideaki is insinuating it to be.

"Imperfections," the answer is succinct, but drawled out, every syllable mouthed with as much deliberation as possible. She could point them out, the little details in the room that has been bothering her. The corners, the flowers, the tatami, the not-entirely-closed drawer, the crooked ink sticks. "And the dead." Her voice is sinister now, perhaps even melancholic, as she lowers her head, but still maintains a resolute gaze at her guest.

"They are not here, of course. But I swear," she raises a finger, as for emphasis. "I do swear, I sometimes see them as bright as day." A heavy sigh follows, the same finger traces the cup in a samsara of circles. "It is the most pronounced curse of withstanding senescence, really. Watching people go." She is about to take a sip, but stops herself, holding the cup up instead, in front of her. "I never quite manage to forget their faces."

Every time she looks at the ghastly figure's blank canvas, she can latch other people's faces onto it. Her grandmother, human lover, stillborn child, neighbor's boy, tribal chief, Marisa, Yamaguchi, Fuuyuko's great grandmother, the list goes on. Perhaps there is a bit too much truth in this confession, but she is starting to experience a slight buzz now, so it is anything but unexpected.

The dainty hands hoist the cup even higher, now a toast. "To those who haven't been fortunate enough to accompany us to where we are today. To the dead." The rest of the burning liquid is swiftly poured down her throat before Tomie puts the cup down and decides that perhaps she should wait with drinking more until later in the evening.

She licks the insides of her lips to gather the last droplets of liquid forgetfulness.

"I do sincerely hope I have not troubled you with my excessive drinking and confessions this afternoon, Miss Hideaki," she smiles carefully, with less orchestration behind it, as a faint blush stretches across her face, dyeing the gray-tinted marble with life, before resorting to a short bow of respect to the military officer.

It was about as far as she had been willing to press, bold even for her and she knew she had the alcohol to thank for that. She enjoyed the conversation either way, the best way to play the game was to not really care which way it turned out in the end.

She wasn't the first, the spark of a gift manifested outside of the control and care of the Shinigami. Someone as old as her probably had it all under wraps. Amusing enough that she'd 'found' her witch, and satisfied with what she'd come to learn as a result. Did they have nothing to fear from this Magahara? Oh she had thorns aplenty for anyone who carelessly tried to grab, who knew what other secrets lay buried even deeper below the barest scratches Nanami made at the surface. Still, Nanami felt a fondness for her, perhaps from their age, perhaps the drink once more at fault.

Nanami played along with the conversation while she mulled those things over. She waved her hand dismissively once. On the subject of the inner machinations of the military. "I'm afraid the truth is actually rather droll. Aside from the games of politics the ambitious play, these's not a lot beneath the surface as to what makes us 'tic.' I find the answers people find to fill the blanks far more fascinating than the reality." She smiled, the history of those matters were more an Earthly construct, she found. Not to say the Shinigami were faultless, but those tending towards malcontention would find reason even if none existed. And likewise, of course.

It was clear Tomie didn't buy the notion of purpose found in the life, perhaps it was simply that she didn't believe that such a life were satisfactory, or perhaps its more of her distaste for the black clad individuals bringing itself to the surface. She didn't say anything on it further, so Nanami busied herself with her cup and let the notion pass. Old people could be stubborn, after all.

The last bit was enough to interrupt her thoughts however. The dead? Nanami's eyes glanced left then right, scanning the room before settling on Tomie with an intrigued curiosity. The spirits of the spirit world then? As interesting an interpretation as any, but much like those on Earth who believe in the hauntings (amusingly wrong given the reality of spiritual matters) it was almost always a choice to be haunted.

Nanami nodded along, feeling a sudden weight. She could see them if she tried to, the ones she lost few and far between, the failed responsibilities that cost lives. Compared to Tomie she is perhaps blessed to not be haunted by it which is why she does not share this. It would be a sea of dead, faceless unless she made the effort to remember and she rarely does. Is not a blood stained battleground the former home of her soul? A graveyard of abandoned blades.

"To the dead." She replied somberly and joined in the long drink of the toast. Nanami closed her eyes and focused intently on the burn of the alcohol, the sensation of it sliding warmly down her throat and gone.

She gave a brief chuckle, caught off by the apology as she regarded her host warmly. "No, please, much of what you say is familiar," if not her own thoughts then it is the words of another that Tomie reminds her of, perhaps several people now long gone, a sea of souls that became a blur of vague recognition. The nostalgia is welcomed as is the faintest hints of honesty behind the aging smile.

Nanami returned the bow equally. "In truth, I think that I've needed this more than I realized initially. I'll see to it you aren't trouble further by the Shinigami in this matter, regretfully there is little I can do about the idle chatterings of the jealous and superstitious." She shrugged helplessly. "Perhaps there is a chance we could do this again sometime?" Nanami smiled brightly and laughed, perhaps only a little bit a joke. "I won't impose, feel free to send word if you'd like, or if you need anything."

Nanami stretched out, arms across above her head and behind her back before settling down. "It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Magahara."
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