雨にもまけず [Tomie/Closed]

Rain.

Rain always carry this heavy sensation of inertia, at least to her.

It has always done so, and would likely continue to do. Because rain means a plethora of things would take place, most of which would contribute to an already extensive list of things that can't be done while it pours outside. One of the most prominent, and irritating, is the notable lack of customers. People won't bother leaving their cozy abodes when it rains, and if they do, they won't go far. That is one of the major downsides of the Moyamoyasumi's location. Given the fact that it is near a crossroad, it is relatively remote, with forested landscape encroaching the back of the building and proud mountains protruding behind those again.

A lack of customers would also cause lethargy in her employees. Why would they even need to bother going through the arduous process of putting on makeup and helping each other put on furisode if no customers show up at all?

The madam had recognized their complaints on earlier occasions and decided on a simple solution: particularly storm-filled days would mean no work for the girls. They walk freely around the estate, chatting and giggling in simple robes, enjoying their leisure.

Tomie Magahara is, admittedly, not fond of their senseless squabbling. Even while they are off-duty, they are still her employees and she would prefer if they acted like thus while in the proximity of her. Sadly, these girls seemed to think that removing the tatemae around her would be appropriate when not wearing a face-full of makeup, given their rural upbringing. She had grown tired of having to kindly remind them that she is not their friend, but their employer, so she tends to stick to the less inhabited rooms, like her personal chamber. Said rooms offered little activity, aside from paperwork and poetry writing.

The fact that rain makes her drowsy, doesn't help whatsoever. It's both the smell of humid soil that comes before and the sound of droplets incessantly drumming on the roof that get her. She often lays atop her futon for extended amounts of time when it rains after informing the girls that they would not be open for business.

In short, rain tends to leave Tomie defeated, even though she knows how to tame it.

Oh yes. Tame it.

Rain is a force of nature and won't easily be defeated, but she is no stranger to dealing with those concept. She who makes fire dance and metal yield, can change the direction of rain with ease. As a matter of fact, she doesn't need to leave the house with a parasol or umbrella, as she can make the individual droplets evade her skin, allow them to dance around her, as she strolls. But where's the fun in that? Parasols are elegant and noble tools that deserve to be paraded around when they can be. Besides, the townspeople are still suspicious of her. Wouldn't want to attract more attention than necessary, after all.

Aforementioned reasons detail why she is currently staying inside, resting near her table as she looks at the various calligraphic pieces she promised to evaluate for the next appointment of these patrons. The defeatist within, brought out by the deluge, makes this a difficult task. With a sigh, she slumps over, losing most of her proper positioning, as she rests her forehead on the wooden material. If only she could have slept for a bit longer, then the day would have passed faster.

A loud noise, clear and shrill, perforates the atmosphere of doldrums thoughts, then a large thump. The very next second, she perks up, tuning her ears in an attempt to deduce where it came from and if she could hear anything else. The thing windows unveil indistinct shouting in the distance, likely behind the building and closer to the zen garden. What on Earth?

Tightening the obi around her waist and adjusting the fabric resting around her arms, she proceeds to get up and head out of her chamber. She passes some of the girls, who seem to be talking near a corner and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. They absentmindedly wave at her, slurring improper greetings at her. The madam ignores them, too occupied with the prospect of potentially chasing away the hypothetical intruders or critters in her garden.

The hallways slither and stretch, the road being seemingly endless.

Accompanying her is a figure in the shadows, pale and enormous, faceless facade and long talons stretched out as it flies in tandem with her shadow. The long, filthy hair weaves in and out of the dark corners, as does its lower half.

Tomie pays her little mind, knowing that she is likely as anxious, if not outright excited, as her to find out what is going out in the back.

The sounds grow more intense as she approaches the back door, she shouting becomes more audible until she can finally see it: the sliding door leading to the zen garden. She hastily opens it, but the downpour clouds her vision. Are those my koi spread around the pond...? She sees the red and white blobs flopping in the distance, next to a broken branch descending from the plum tree. What had happened here?

She goes to grab a parasol resting near the wall a bit back to prevent herself from becoming too wet.

"What?" Flabbergasted as she stops in her tracks, she finds herself observing a white-haired woman crawling on all fours through the door, meowing while doing so. She stares at her, examining her while not storing any information whatsoever. Tomie doesn't think, doesn't move, doesn't even speech. All she can do is stare at this bizarre sight laid out on a plate for her.

This definitely is no average rainy day.

But then she hears the voices in the distance, carrying the message along the lines of "do you see her". Something clicks inside her head.

They are looking for this... This Nekomusume.

She is not sure why she would come here of all places, but perhaps she has sought refuge in her house at the behest of someone else. In fact, the more she thinks about it, the likelier it becomes. This is a new low standard, even for her. Fuuyuko, please don't do this again.

With her suave walk, hips swinging from side to side, the dark-haired woman approaches the feline intruder, who turns out to be on the rather short end of the height spectrum. "I take it she told you to come here," she speaks, glaring down at the quadrupedal woman with glinting eyes. "Don't move and be quiet."

A swift stomp with her left leg follows, the wooden okobo reverberating with the material of the floor. The area underneath the intruder turned refuge cracks, a large gash in the wood opening underneath her body. "Kodō: Uchikuchi." The command is but a murmur, only audible to the two of them.

The gash extends, cracks open, a jagged maw of wood gapes over the tiny woman's body, quietly swallowing her and perfectly reforming afterwards. Now secure in a box underneath the floor, all the woman had to do was to be silent while her obscurantist takes matters into her own hands.


The entirety of the process took less than five minutes, if even that. She had confronted the people, who turns out to be Shinigami (what a surprise), about being in her garden, which they had been relatively hostile about, claiming they were performing orders issued by the Seireitei and stated the objective was confidential. Something which she didn't mind, since she was nigh certain that she had already assessed the situation correctly. They continued to snoop around, beating the bushes and examining her bathhouse, before finally moving on, suspecting that their target had done so too.

Before returning to the position where she had hidden the criminal, it is likely fair to call her that now, she gathered streams of water to shove the koi back into the pond. The poor fish had suffered quite the stressful encounter.

The plum tree is far far worse off, though, the best branch having been broken off in the scuffle that had taken place. Returning inside, she folds the parasol, stomps on the floor, causing the building to gently regurgitate the girl, and runs her hand over the oil-paper, drawing water like a magnet. It forms into a wet disc under her palm, which she then guides out of the door, letting it splash over the pond in the distance.

"They are gone now," the madam informs her now-guest while stashing the parasol away. She adjusts her hair, which has been left loose for the time being, to the right as she looks at the woman. "I take it you would want to get out of those wet clothes, miss...?" She leaves the question hanging, awaiting a proper answer before she can follow up with a cavalcade of inquiries.

She at least deserves some answers in exchange for housing her.

She?

Sekai glanced up with an increasingly reddening face in blank confusion. Blush extending from hair line to the tips of her toes, she swallowed hard and opened her mouth to deny being sent there by anyone, to explain that she was simply trying to throw some unwanted people off her trail and was truly not up to anything law breaki--

Voices growing closer made her shut her mouth with a near audible snap. Wide eyes the same shade of red as the tsubaki blooming stared up at the astonishingly tall oiran with no small amount of panicked entreaty. “please help me”, her rounded features begged as loudly and clearly as if she had spoken aloud.

A heavy wooden thunk of okobo against the floor and she sank down as if were made of quicksand. Hidden in darkness, Sekai just stared up at the grain, invisible in darkness, and wondered just what she’d managed to get herself into this time. Hidden and safe for the time being, she turned her attention inward where a very specific problem still remained in the form of her hysterically laughing Zanpakuto spirit.

Said spirit whom continued mocking her rather poor impression of a cat. Myaa myaaa~ Wheezing cackles interrupted the harsh crow-like sound.

It's not like I had much of a choice! And I don't sound that bad! She protested, feeling her cheeks heat and redden. Any further argument postponed as the floor shuddered beneath her, cold air returning to pierce through soaked clothing. Scarlet eyes blinked to readjust from a complete lack of light to regular. Glanced up and, to her credit, managed to be sufficiently cowed by the much taller woman's glower and stern, no nonsense manner.

Sekai canted her head to the left, brow furrowed ever so slightly in curiosity and puzzlement toward the other woman's behavior.

Why was a Shinigami hiding her from other Shinigami?

"M-my sincerest of apologies for the ordeal I have forced you to unwillingly endure on my behalf," Her apology was accompanied by a deep, formal bow done in a fluid manner not unlike those raised by nobility would have learned, and heavily practiced. "Fujimura Sekai, though these circumstances are nowhere near proper, it is an honor and pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Oku-dono." Swallowed hard as she tried to move the soaked, heavy mass of her hair into resembling something less like she were a drowning victim.

Getting out of the heavy clothing would be marvelous, but...

Her eyes moved past the woman awaiting response and to the bent limb. "I would be most appreciative if it were not a burden upon you for a change of clothing-- at least until my own have an opportunity to dry." She faltered, uncertain. Worried her lower lip a moment before pursuing matters further. "B-but, um, I need to apologize and mend the harm I have done to the tree first. She did not deserve such treatment and it was my foolishness and poor judgment that resulted in her harm."

Another bow and the woman darted off, quick for someone wearing heavy clothing that dragged, and headed for the limb itself. Picked the bent and broken portion of the limb up carefully, a reverent touch as if it were a sacred talisman to be cherished. Angled it back up slowly, carefully. Frowned because that complete lack of physical stature managed to thwart her again.

...those Shinigami wouldn't know, right? Maybe if she were really careful about how she managed to execute it...

The earth beneath her responded to her call. A small hill, much like that of a ground burrowing rodent, slowly formed beneath her feet. Rose higher. Higher. Higher still until she was able to level the branch out the way it had been prior to her interference. "Thank you," she murmured quietly, fingers stroking the rough bark in gratitude. Light trickled from her fingers into the wood, seared through and raced to the damaged site. Jagged splinters reorganized themselves, seemed to sew itself shut with a small flare of dancing green lights in varying shades as it finished.

A small cluster of plum blossoms dropped on her head with a soft plop of impact as the earth lowered her back to her proper place. Resettled itself as if nothing had happened as she blinked up at the tree's gift and smiled.

A gift for her hostess, it seemed, she hoped the woman would be willing to accept such a thing.

You're gonna get scolded like the old days. Amenonuhoko informed her.

Probably. She had it coming, however, and would have to make amends as best she could for the trouble she had caused. She bowed once more upon returning to the entry way. "I feel I must apologize again for the inconvenience and trouble I have caused you."

Rose, offered the blossoms the plum tree had unceremoniously dropped on her in response to her apology and expression of gratitude. "These are intended for you, she is quite pleased that you are appreciative of her in all seasons." It wasn't that weird that a small woman with a baby face, who happened to be chased by Shinigami, was apparently able to speak with trees... right?

--
WC: 868
GP: 17

The pathetic girl looks just as awkward when she emerges from the hole in the floor as when she had been submerged. Still on all fours, soaking wet and with a blush that would make the pumpkins in the autumn jealous, the white-haired dwarf, she certainly is just that, makes the woman thoroughly question Fuuyuko's taste in companions. But then again, she is thinking about the same woman that once brought a homeless oaf to her in the hopes that she could hide him from the local authorities for some whack-job reason. Which she had done, of course, but she has since forgotten where she hid him. Oh well.

But soon thereafter follows something the madam had not expected at all: formal speech. No, humble speech. This... This white-haired stranger seems to regard her, the person who has managed to keep her out of the Shinigami's clutches for now, as her superior. Unable to resist showing off her surprise, Tomie's left eyebrow darts up as intrigue fills her. This ought to be a mistake. This lady can't be a friend of Fuuyuko. Fuuyuko doesn't even know half of the words she had used. And even if she did, she wouldn't utter them. Even the apologetic bow that followed the statement is nothing short of impressive, vaguely reminiscent of the way nobles and merchants behaved back in the day. And probably still do, as a matter of fact.

"No, no," the lady handwaves with a notable intensity in front of the girl as she attempts to concentrate on just what is going on in front of her. Brows furrow, an unusual facial expression. "The flowery speech is not necessary here. You are merely my guest. Please speak plainly, Okyakusan." The distinction between the way the two of them address each other is notable, but even though she has asked the white-haired woman to speak plainly, the madam herself retains a healthy sort of distance to the girl, still relatively formal.

Fujimura Sekai.

This is, arguably, the strangest name she has heard in a while. The surname is mostly fine, but the given name puzzles her. Who in the world names their child "world"? Maybe this girl too, like Miss Hideaki, dates from back in the day. It won't surprise her, given her rather... Archaic manner of speaking. It is not exactly dissimilar from the way she had spoken back when she lived in the upper districts, but the madam knows she has slipped. Although still polite, her formality is far less notable than it used to be.

Thus, she briefly sees Fujimura Sekai as a mirror to a world she has turned her back on. It stings in her lungs, a sensation of discomfort oozes into the musculature of her face and she notices her hands furling into knots automatically. This sort of reminder is not something she needs on a rainy day like this. This is not the sort of day she wants to be defeated by melancholy and forget loss by resorting to copious amounts of alcohol.

"I take it..." She pauses, meets the floor, pondering, then looks back at the girl. "I take it you are not a friend of Fuuyuko, then." Then why should I continue hosting her? She is no associate of mine.

But she knows, not just deep down. Even superficially, she feels the tingling and crinkling beneath her skin: the will to wrap her head around this white-haired, stocky lady with a voice that carries the tune of a civilization lost. She can't throw her to the wolves now.

"Wait." She stretches her hand out towards the girl, who had just talked about 'mending the damage' in regards to the branch she had felled earlier through completely unknown means, but the girl darts away, swifter than even the White Hare of Inaba that she reminds Tomie so much of. What a bother. I have to follow her in the rain now? Glancing over at the folded parasols resting in a basket, she promptly ignores them as she steps out to face the downpour.

"Suidō: Amashaku Sanka."

Her arms swivel and rotate with graceful haste, as if directing a musical piece with a particularly high tempo. The droplets in the air, as far as beyond where Fujimura is standing, change course midair; instead of heading towards the ground, they dart to the left, as if pushed by a force beyond what sight can detect. Idly moving in a circle around the zen garden, the water forms a sparse dome, held up by a canopy of magic.

Neither of them have to get wet now.

Alas, getting soaked is almost the last thing on the madam's mind as she stares in awe at the scene playing out in front of her. The girl has raised the earth, forming a small hill underneath her feet, tall enough to reach the rift in the tree. Carrying the broken piece in her arms, she appears to be reattaching it to the point it had broken off from with what appears to be some sort of magic.

Is she a traitor? Is that why the Shinigami were hunting her? No... Wait. She recalls something, a petite yet crucial detail presented to her by the young girl from the Third Division.


The feeling of sinking manifests again, a swirling pit in her abdomen with a strong gravity tugging her entire body down. She can't tear her eyes off the girl as the hill sinks back into the ground, dissipating the podium Fujimura had been standing on and by proxy, shattering the illusion it had created of her. But even as close as she is to the ground now, with glinting baby eyes and a body akin to those voluptuous statues they used to make when Tomie was alive, the madam still feel a sense of awe as Fujimura approaches her and bows before her.

Dumbfounded, her expression is caught between eyes glaring with surprise and a gaping mouth, fish-like and stupefied, even as the white-haired woman speaks and presents something in her hands. She truly doesn't listen attentively to what she says, the words being murmur and background noise for her thoughts.


The words are unceremoniously blurted out, stated as fact instead of posed as question, while she ignores the gesture the girl has just presented to her in the shape of a flower. To make matters worse, the dark chocolate eyes burrow into the girl's honey-brown ones with great intensity.

She turns her back on the girl, reentering the estates once more. "Please come inside." She leaves the door open as a gesture for the girl to follow, but she still maintains the turned back on her, as rude as it is considered. This is a lot of information to process at once. Resting her forehead against her hand, she lets out a swift sigh. In front of her, the house kami is hovering, hands outstretched and head tilted to the left, as if curious about whoever has just entered the door.

Tomie doesn't have time for its antics now.

"I must sincerely apologize, Fujimura-san. It just so happens that there is quite a bit of information to digest here, as I am quite flabbergasted with the current turn of events." A painted finger points to the her left, in direction towards a closed door. "There should be a spare yukata in that room over there. I will be waiting here while you change."

She had vowed to ask this woman so many questions, yet she has not come up with a single one thus far. The poor woman sure is in for quite the interrogation.

Oh thank fuck, someone else who hates your bullshit way of talking.

Can you maybe just not for ten minutes? Sekai retorted irritably to the spirit continuing to crack commentary in the back of her head. Other Shinigami didn't seem to have the chatterbox and a half that she managed to be cursed with, and she quite resented the rest of them for it. Jerks.

The madam's expression flickered, discomfort coloring her aura and the faintest trace of it across her expression as well.

Damn it, she was messing up by just opening her mouth and speaking.

Shocker.

Sekai bowed awkwardly again in apology. "I will endeavor to speak in as plainly a manner as possible, my apologies for any discomfort I have caused." She wasn't doing a very good job at that speaking plainly thing as promised. Formality seemed to be as natural to her as breathing itself happened to be; a thing one did without even thinking about it.

Sekai's expression turned puzzled, head canted slightly to the right and brow furrowed faintly as she tried to place the name. Shook her head reluctantly after a moment. "My sincerest apologies, Oku-sama, I am unfamiliar with anyone by that name." That was slightly less formal, but still put the woman before her on a higher position of authority than herself.

The woman's command was almost enough to stop her in her tracks, but the determination and will to make things right pushed her forward past that initial hesitation mid-step. Energy gathered, a flash of images from behind her as her senses and connection to the ground beneath her feet offered her a view of what transpired.

Magic, plain and simple, and a name to the spell that offered an explanation to the sudden lack of rain falling on her person. No incantation that she'd managed to catch, no number attached to it-- was this woman a Shinigami as her aura seemed to give off? Or was she something a little different, someone caught like she was in a world not quite like that of the strict rules Seireitei themselves adhered to.

An outlier, in other words. Someone who didn't follow the customs and traditions and had forged their own path. Someone she could learn from and find 'another way' for those breaking beneath the weight of tradition to travel.

Sekai started to inquire about the slack jawed expression before five words slammed her own mouth shut.

For a young woman so well versed in proper mannerisms and an archaic manner of speech and behavior, she'd failed utterly at hiding whatever she felt from the world around her. Surprise hit with a fury, followed shortly by the crestfallen look of someone who'd just had some sort of dream or hope utterly destroyed before their very eyes. Resignation, quiet and potent, replaced it in the next instant as scarlet eyes peer back up at the woman before her.

"..." Wordless, her downcast expression twisted into something more complicated. Frustration apparent on her features as she tried to work out just how to explain what she was without... saying it outright.

Maybe she should just take her chances with the idiot brigade that the madam had driven off and just--

She jumped a little at the sudden directive, blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. "Y-yes, Oku-sama." Meekly followed her, hesitated briefly at the open door to ensure her feet were clean. "Please pardon my intrusion."

An apology given to her by the madam was quickly and hastily waved away with much the same fervor she herself had done not terribly long ago. "No, no, no-- the apologies are entirely mine to bestow for my ill timed and ill mannered means of intrusion and inconvenience forced upon you." More apologetic bowing even as she was directed to the left and told to dress.

There was not a bigger kicked puppy face than the one Sekai had at that very moment as she slunk into the room and shut the door with a barely audible thunk of the shoji against the door frame.

Now what do I do? Yukata successfully located, and a breath of relief released as she recognized the style as one similar to that of those in a traditional ryokan. Arduous process of getting out of soaked clothing aside, Sekai toweled her hair off using the least saturated parts of her clothing to aid her in wringing the worst of the water out of her hair. ...and a good portion of the plum blossoms that had apparently chosen to take up residence there as well. She supposed it was only natural to find them there. Given that she'd hidden in the pine tree and fallen through to smack against the plum tree on the way down.

Now; the yukata.

Right under left, hold into place, and wrap the obi securely into place. Tied into place at the right hip and a breath of relief slipped free. Her hands worked, swift and deft, to plait the damp white locks into something resembling order and secured them into place with thin but strong pins of translucent stone 'shaved' off of one that'd caught itself in her clothing from the pond. A small circular mirror in the east corner gave her pause, studied her reflection for a brief moment.

Well... it was an improvement from bedraggled child stuck in a downpour, but still far from the composed and cool image she wished she had the features-- like the madam waiting rather patiently outside-- to pull off.

"My sincerest apologies for the excessive time it has taken me to prepare myself as appropriately as possible, Oku-sama." The door slid open, no longer muffling the white haired woman's soft voice as she stood, the small blooming branch the tree had dropped unceremoniously on to her head to give to the black haired woman in front of her between her fingers.

A bow of gratitude, deep and unabashed, made to her. "My utmost and most heartfelt of gratitude to your kindness and generosity in the wake of the trouble I have given you." She was going to have a lot to explain, something whispered within her, and she just hoped that she didn't have to answer anything too terrible personal.

After all, she didn't want this peaceful Madam having to handle something dangerous when she was simply living a proper life the way she seemingly desired to.

Without interference from Shinigami.

–
WC: 1073
GP: 21

The girl claims to speak as plainly as she possibly can, yet hasn't particularly toned down her speech. It's like looking in a mirror through time, except fatter. As harsh as the thought is, there is plenty of truth to it. The girl is front of her is not exactly slender by any means, quite frumpy if she gets to say so, and the soaking wet fabric isn't doing any favors to her figure. Nor is her sloppy hair clinging to her face, really. Perhaps this is part of the reason why she associated this girl, this Fujimura, with Fuuyuko? They are both of similar body shapes, but this girl is admittedly smaller than her former cook's daughter.

Not that it makes that much of a difference, really. Neither of them can be said to be what she considers 'desirable' in a conventional sense. Quite approachable even, if one ignores their completely distinct demeanors. Now that she thinks about it, over here, her pantry-raiding acquaintance actually has a more appealing persona than this simply girl, whose sycophantic way of talking would be off-putting to the local populace.

Certainly, Tomie herself has a certain appreciation for the work of wordsmiths, but she does admit to herself that this has become somewhat of a rarity to observe in person and thus also an oddity by proxy.

Besides, calling this poor girl a 'wordsmith' is generous, since it appears as if she just does this instinctively and has a hard time adjusting to a situation where she is requested to refrain from doing so.

As a matter of fact, the madam finds herself growing vaguely irked, although flattered, by the girl's floral apology, given how downtrodden she had seemed earlier and how profusely the white-haired guest seems to believe her own words.

She brings a pipe down from her tangled locks after pulling on it for a bit, stuck around a stray kanzashi hanging loosely, and lets it rest in the corner of her mouth with the support of her hand. "I would hardly say that this is an ill-timed intrusion, the heavy rain aside. Truthfully not entirely ill-mannered either. You did mangle my tree, but as you said," She looks at the petal the girl had presented, which she promptly ignored for a bit. Gently, the painted fingers wrap around the modestly tinted crown, caressing it in her hand as green energy envelops the canopy. "'She' is grateful for me taking care of 'her'. And I wouldn't have known that without your help."

There is not even a contour of a smile on her face, just broody eyes and tight lips peering down at her guest. However, the eyes don't simply swipe across the girl dismissively, but hold her instead, tracing her figure and keeping her on the spot, observing with cautious curiosity. The minor irritation she has just experienced does not damper her interest in this fresh face or her desire to pick apart the story behind its inherent sadness.

Soon, she ponders, looking out of the window next to the door as her guest departs for the room to put on a set of dry clothes. The sight that meets her is not a pretty one. The garden has the distinct look of deluge, as if a flood had suddenly arrived. A brief scrunch of the nose, the most her face has likely moved today, forms as she recalls the spell she had used to cover them from the rain. Of course. I forgot to spread the rain evenly. When I entered the house, it just all fell straight down.

While muttering to herself about her own lack of memory, she opens the door to the outside, fingers twitching. Moving her hands in an upwards motion, fanning out as they reach upwards, she starts mumbling words to herself. "Mizuchi, riverbank, northern turtle, heavenly wheel. Fifteen geysers, frozen lake, jet-like torrent. Shoot upwards and devastate. Suidō: Rukeiken."

Water darts upwards in a baleful pillar, directed straight upwards. It siphons the ponds, flooded pots and the water drenching most of the garden, but leaves the koi pound as is. Upon reaching the clouds, the heavenly river splits into a multitude of directions, falling as rain over various parts of the district.

Still changing, hmm? she ponders upon closing the door and reentering the warmth. Not surprised, considering how thoroughly soaked she must have been. Nonetheless, she does not exactly have to wait for Fujimura to finish on her own; while she had been distracted with the white-haired guest's presence, Tomie has utterly neglected the house spirit floating about. The rail of a creature, with hair so heavy the head is facing the floor, lurks in a corner, back bent far enough forwards that it looks broken.

You came with me, didn't you? For a brief second, the madam considers saying those words out loud, but she knows that the creature doesn't respond; it hasn't really shown incentive towards auditory cues on earlier occasion. However, it has, strangely, responded to her thoughts, as if it can access them. Deities have been said to have stranger powers than telepathy, though. I take it you are as interested in Fujimura as I am, then?

Jolting forwards, the creature moves from across the hall to the front of the madam's face in an instant. The droopy black tentacles seem to envelop her as she stares at the blank face inches apart from her own. Gnarled hands caress her cheeks, but leave no mark or sensation in the wake of their touch. With a brisk step back, wobbling slightly, she leaves the creature's clutches as her guest announces that has now changed attire.

Like a dichromatic blur, the spirit flies over to Fujimura, situating itself behind her, cautiously pacing back and forth, as if judging.

Even though she has a difficult time focusing solely on her guest, Tomie does her best look at her instead of the ghastly fiend. "It suits you," she proclaims, giving the yukata a brief glance before the girl promptly obscures it by bowing. Jilting her wrist back and forth, palm waving, while shaking her head briefly, Tomie's lips form a petite smile. "As I said earlier. I do not perceive entertaining you as my guest as trouble. Please follow me." With a sharp turn, she starts maneuvering her way down the serpentine hallway towards her chambers.

The madam makes a brief stop by the kitchen, commanding her employees to drop by her room with two cups of tea as soon as possible, before continuing the path in silence. As they pass by her employees, a few give the guest in tow odd looks, but most avert their gaze when eyes stare back.

"Please enter." The shoji opens, unveiling the rather homely room within, with paperwork and scrolls galore. She allows her guest to enter first, gesticulating towards a few pillows on the floor next to a table. Situating herself on the other side of the girl, the dark-haired giant once again gives the girl a cold, analyzing stare. Her eyes occasionally flit over to the creature, still nigh attached to the back, but manages to mostly keep them on Fujimura.

Pipe still in hand, she takes an absentminded huff from it, noticing that it is unlit. With a snap of her fingers, a spark appears, shining as it falls into the pipe's hole, smoke soon building up. "Now then, I suppose I forgot to introduce myself back when Fujimura-san first did." Sweet dried fruit fills her lungs, leaving her nostrils in irritating veils of grey. "My name is Magahara Tomie, and I am the owner of this establishment. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." A bow doesn't follow, and the woman instead focuses on blowing out copious amounts of smoke.

"Would you care to explain why agents of the Seireitei were running after you?" An inquisitive eye glances at the meek rabbit-like being from the side, having contorted her body from the traditional seiza position to a more comfortable, albeit improper one. "Speak freely. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Those who respected and paid great care and mind to their natural surroundings-- be it for aesthetic purposes or a genuine desire to encourage growth-- were people Sekai preferred to get to know. No one who cared so much for the temperamental blossoms and fussy personalities of flowering trees could be a bad person. It took a particular mindset to tend to a garden such as the one Magahara-san had been steadily cultivating for a good long time. A smile, shy but genuine, lit the white haired woman's face at the gentle acquisition of the proffered branch from her fingers. Softened her features and gave them a cast that offered a glimpse of what her true personality likely was; a warm and honest soul matching the summery hues shifting through the faint aura.

Thoughts she kept with her as she changed and ensured her presence impacted as little as possible in the room she'd been shown. Paused and canted her head to one side as a shift upward in power manifested once more. Her eyes closed, voices of protest fading by the moment as excess water was lifted and cast away to reach areas further than her vast range could touch. Snowy brows lifted a considerable distance, disappeared into her hairline mid-toweling as she considered the strength and finesse it would take to do such a thing without accidentally harming the garden or taking 'too much' from one place and not enough from another.

Where was her blade? And, for that matter, why wasn't she in traditional Shinigami uniform?

Everything in her aura shouted Shinigami, but her demeanor, dress, and... words implied the exact opposite thereof. Had she been expelled and thus practiced in an unofficial capacity? Not been formally trained as of yet-- she doubted that. Questions she mulled over quietly. Obediently accompanied the madam exactly the proper number of steps behind with footsteps that didn't seem to creak or set against any of the groaning portions of the floor like so many others might have. She offered kind, if nervous, greetings and bows to those they passed. Odd looks and hastily averted gazes were met in return and she wondered just what she was doing wrong in treating them with respect.

"I humbly request that my intrusion be pardoned." her voice was soft in nature. A blink to let her eyes adjust to the light within the unassuming room filled with scrollwork and papers. Scarlet eyes peered at a bit of paperwork before hastily turning away. No snooping, she scolded herself for the breech in conduct. Sekai sank with a fluid grace into proper seiza, hands folded neatly into her lap and back ramrod straight. Her eyes, in spite of her best attempts, widen as a snap invoked a spark and the pipe lit itself. No incantation. Nothing but an action and a swift, brief, and minor flare of her spiritual energy.

Just what exactly was this woman if not a proper Shinigami?

She resisted the urge to look behind her where the woman's dark eyes were drawn to. Hoped that it wasn't the sign of an ambush and someone about to launch themselves from behind. It wouldn't end well-- one of those idiots in the idiot brigade from Second had tried it. She didn't think the whole 'earth and wall swallowing ankles and hands and re-solidifying' thing had been properly appreciated by those caught in the trap. Poor for morale, etc.

She watched the tendrils of smoke trace intricate patterns in the air. Snapped back to instant attention upon the matron's words. Magahara-san then, or Magahara-oku-san, perhaps? She frowned a touch, brow furrowed at the center of her eyes as she tried to work out which would get the least of the scowls cast in her direction while still being proper. Her expression changed immediately. Concerns in regard to polite manners in social situations like the one she was in forgotten in lieu of a rather more important topic. Puzzling, however, was the simple notion of having her refer to the Shinigami as an enemy.

Had she guessed correctly? She'd been expelled from or otherwise stripped of her title as a former Shinigami and operated as she did now?

"They, um, caught me attempting to depart through one of the open portals leading into the world of the living." She offered by means of tentative explanation. Clearly still attempting to work out how much information was too much and how much would be not enough. "They chose to err on the side of caution and suspicion when I failed to identify myself to their specifications." Squirmed a little in place, still maintained the rigidly formal sitting stance all the while. Impressive feat, that.

She wouldn't have been able to even if she'd tried, in all honesty. She stuck out in that particular part of town like a sore thumb and her being caught in deep discussion and debate with Asgard, the wretched bastard, as to whether or not it was a well laid trap or an undiscovered escape had sealed her headlong flight away the instant she'd been caught.

Loosed a little of the scowl in regards to their persistence and complained just this once. "The overzealous tenacity and dedication to their duty is not a matter I had intended to underestimate in regards to those in the Second Division." A mistake, her expression and tone clearly stated, that she would not repeat in the future. All she'd wanted to do was go home before any more trouble could occur. To rest and to collect her thoughts and figure out just what she should do in order to tackle this 'Substitute Shinigami' issue she'd been saddled with courtesy of that Chinda bitch and that pain in the ass who'd declared her a member of the First Division as his 'last act'.

Instead of being allowed to do just that, she was stuck on the run all because a bunch of bored busybodies couldn't find something else to do with their time.

Swallowed hard and chanced a look at the tall woman. "If you will pardon me for being so bold, why do you so resent and loathe the Shinigami?" Didn't, by wisdom gleaned from the obvious, inform her that she certainly felt similar enough to Shinigami that she would likely draw unwanted attention as time grew on. Not... that she seemed incapable of taking on any unwelcome visitors. Far from it, really, and the display was likely even better than the one she'd shown before with the unruly brats from the Second.

She would ask, she vowed, about the woman's incredible talent for elemental manipulation after hearing what came from the woman's mouth next. She might even be able to learn something from her that she didn't know before!

--
WC: 1132
GP: 22

As much as she had implored her guest to retain a healthy dose of informality, at least less formality, politeness would be fine, but this absolute perpetuation of keigo is slightly frustrating. Especially since the girl could just as well have remarked "I apologize for intruding"; there's no need for humility in her house, not when she had taken in this interesting guest, soggy and afraid, to warm her up, keep her company and most importantly of all: peruse the purposes and nature of this white-haired strangers.

Why do so many people in my life have white hair? She once again ponder this strange coincidence, or destined happening, depending on whether the inevitability has brought them to her humble abode or if it is the ladder of chaos that has; Tomie Magahara is fine with either one of them being responsible. As long as the guests remain interesting, willing to share a drink with her and know when to leave, she should not complain. Naturally, that does not stop her from indulging in that, as mentally taking notes about the negative aspects of those around her does make her days a bit brighter.

But for now, she can only really complain about the way this girl chooses to phrase her words, how she decorates them with unnecessarily floral details and utilizes the very most pompous expressions at the top of the hat. It's certainly an art, and one she appreciates in the right settings.

This definitely is not one of them.

Every word is a flattery, a verbal bow and a curtsy at the same time, putting the "esteemed, generous owner of the house" who just had shown a refuge of war basic human decency on a pedestal. The girl had flat out been told to cease this sort of behavior and insolently defied the expectation to read the atmosphere, especially given the lax mannerisms her host acts out, defying the expectations connected to the seiza position.

All of this, all these thoughts shaped like a spiral of poor impressions and energy not only vanishes entirely, but is completely displaced by shock and awe as the explanation, convoluted still, leaves Fujimura's mouth.

The world of the living.

She hasn't heard talk of this place in a long, long time. People live and die in the Rukongai without ever having seen the place. Some fortunate few boast of their memories from the place, disparate and oft best forgotten. The few times life, as some dare call it, have come up as a topic, the people around her have discussed their personal memories, compared and contrasted them, then promptly let the conversation go silent.

She had never contributed herself.

None of her memories, her own memories, belonging to her and her only, exist to be shared with others. They are in a box, an ancient one, older than even the earliest form of culture she had experienced in the Rukongai, and are to stay there unless she feels particularly nostalgic on drunken nights.

Like Soul Society, the world of the living, a fable, nothing short of it, must have changed.

But how much?

Here she sits, with a living, breathing doe-eyed denizen of a place bygone to her. In a position she has seen so many times, speaking a language she is accustomed to hearing, wearing clothes in the same manner she does.

To say that Tomie is gawking at the girl would be an understatement.

Pipe in hand, mouth formed into a wide o, eyelids shriveled back as most of the white is exposed, utter disbelief coloring her face grey. The pupils trail up and down, from the tiny kneecaps almost protruding through the fabric to the pale hair, drier and not nearly as clingy as it had been.

Is she really from there? Could she really have come here? If she did, how did she even cross the border of life and death without losing herself? Is she even here in spirit? Is she just a figment of her imagination, a visage only existing for her eyes like the wretched house kami? No, the other girls had seen her, they had to have. She is here.

She permits the girl to finish her explanation, none of which really gives the madam any insight in how she got here and what she even is. But goodness, she tried. Such an overload of information needed a proper thinking break, so she tilts her head to the left and stares between the gaps of the bars on the window. The rain is still winning out there, subjugating whoever braves the elements. Does the same rain fall in the world of living, Fujimura Sekai's home?

Her lips fold around the pipe, absentmindedly drawing in some smoke before she inhales in the same breath as she speaks. "How is... The Earth?" Tomie turns towards her guest, the glittering of fading stars in her eyes. The rampant sounds of "zaa zaa", as some would call the onomatopoeia, is the only company of their conversation as of now.

"It's been so long," she continues out of the blue, looking beyond the familiar facade of her guest, back into the vortex of time when she wore plain, brown clothing spun of wool and animal hides. When she let her long, filthy hair hang loose and there was no such thing as hygiene. "It feels surreal to meet someone like you. Someone who is not dead."

Her eyes home in on the golden eggs resting within her guest's sockets. "And not a Shinigami on top of that." She sits up, more proper than before, but still quite sloppy, strands of hair swinging in the process.

"And you wonder about me, and my distaste for the Shinigami," Tomie looks down, an audible 'hah' follows, as if the prospect amuses her. "But I suppose it can't be helped. People seem strange when you're a stranger." She shoves back a single loose hair into the shimada updo, regulating it to her liking. A few pats follow, to secure its position, before she takes one final swig from the kiseru and puts it on the table.

"The Shinigami have wronged me in many ways. Their continued existence as a tyrannical scheme of oppression against us with no power is an insult to all the values they claim to represent. They think themselves the superiors of us residents of the Rukongai. They think might makes right and presents themselves as if that isn't the case. Their very nature is hypocrisy and deceit." With this elaborate explanation, her eyes have turned cold, surly tones accompany the movement of the porcelain mask's jaw. The words she has just uttered would not be regarded as unfavorable by quite a few people, no doubt, but she feels that sharing them with this particular guest is something she can do without fear of repercussions.

"Of course, they do not know that I feel this way, ignorant as they are," she adds, for good measure.

A long finger nail points directly at her guest for a brief period of time, almost accusing as she singles the girl out. "I knew you weren't one of them when you used that particular sort of magic. An officer once told me the Shinigami can't do that." She hopes this explanation makes sense, as vague as it is, for the girl is interesting, far more so than she could even have anticipated.

Yet, she finds herself feeling melancholic when she looks at her too; it's as if she came here with the box Tomie stuffs away and opened it without saying a word.

She has always thought that she has moved far beyond her simple origins, but she finds that the Earth is still tender to her.

So there she sits, staring at Fujimura Sekai, resident of the living world, while the distant above cries the tears Magahara Tomie lost so long ago.

She'd been told to tone down the keigo, the formal speech, and she had! To a degree, anyway. Some habits were much more difficult to break than others. Her cheeks flushed, eyes dropped immediately when the dark eyes of the owner landed on her. She detected the annoyance and disapproval rippling around her, intensifying every time she opened her mouth and managed to say yet another thing wrong. Annoyance that quickly disappeared, leaving the esteemed hostess not only slack jawed in disbelief, but hit with a powerful sense of yearning and nostalgia that may as well have been a proverbial club to the mortal woman's skull.

Sekai's eyes flicked upward from their position at the floor and off to the left. Froze on the comical expression of shock and disbelief on her face. Felt her cheeks burn hotter than before at the up and down glance and let her gaze flick to the rain falling between the wooden bars. So familiar, so reminiscent like those of the old red light districts in the past that she could scarcely believe they weren't all the way back in time like some strange dream or bad time traveling series.

Rain in Seireitei made the same zaa-zaa sound as it fell, the same parapara when the drops hit the tiled rooftops and gravel outdoors. Nostalgic, familiar, and comforting. If she were to move back toward the garden, the scent of wet earth, greenery, and stone would remind her of home.

Remind her; but never replace that which she still held close to her heart; and that which lay beneath the starry eyed glitter in Magahara-san's gaze said much the same for her. She still remembered, somehow, some way, the world of 'what had been' from life, in this land of the dead.

The white haired guest remained quiet as the older woman asked her halting question. Explained herself a little. Sat up a little straighter than she had-- and offered something in return. Something in exchange for something wanted, that was how matters had worked at one point in time. A give and take when possible, with prompt politeness and courtesy given to one another.

Scarlet eyes, too bright and lurid to be called a proper tsubaki red, widened at the finger jabbed in her direction. Looking as a chastised apprentice would, back straight but shoulders hunched up about her ears and hands neatly balled into light fists against her thighs. She looked guilty as convicted, and the abashed expression would have given her away just as much as the use of her abilities, hastily done in goodwill and desperation to 'make it right' as they had been.

The topic of Shinigami was a sore and unpleasant one; too many times burned by those she'd been told to trust-- to believe knew the difference between right and wrong. Those who would protect and guide and serve to their very best as the samurai once had to their lords so long ago. "They are not all terrible people," she responded at long last in a voice that hesitated. Who she was trying to convince-- herself or the woman before her-- was entirely up for debate. "however, that is to say, they are not without their fundamental, and oft fatal, flaws. My agreement lies with your general assessment; they have been corrupted and strayed from the proper path for far too long." And, somehow, some way, she was supposed to figure out how to make them not only see that, but change on top of it.

She swallowed hard. Tried her best not to fidget. Failed, as she shifted just a little too much for it to be a natural thing. "One might imply that an influx of foreign ideologies and morals may be partially to blame for their hubris." A very poor attempt at humor, but she'd wondered such a thing more than once-- particularly after that assault by an entire cell of Shinigami there on Earth that'd resulted in her being who she was now.

Earth, however, was a much safer topic of discussion and one she all too readily embraced with everything she had in her. "Much has changed from the beginning of the Heisei era, shortly prior to my birth, to present day Heisei-- and that is not to dismiss the events spanning all of Shōwa either!" Her expression lit up in excitement and pride for her homeland. "From buildings that do not suffer as much structural damage or crumble when an earthquake strikes to making newer, better technological advances with computers, mobile phones, and vehicles... there is not much Japan cannot work out how to do electronically-- and we are always striving to attain even higher knowledge and mastery in the fields of our research." A pause, eyes lighting up further as the idea struck. She reached into the sleeve of the borrowed robe and removed a slim, rectangular device with a glossy sheen and hit a small button on the side to activate the screen.

No service, of course, she'd have been genuinely surprised if she had gotten a signal there, but it would be good enough for an example of what Japan could do! The photo on the cover was of herself with her wife-- something that temporary made the excited smile fade. The dark skinned, blue eyed woman with her smirk and thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail, both of them wrapped in an comedically over-sized blue scarf and sharing a 'victory' pose for the selfie at a new year's celebration. She'd had brown hair and eyes back then like a proper Japanese girl, at that.

She hurriedly hit the image gallery on her phone to avoid having to dwell on it further. She had pictures from some of her outings and some of the places she'd liked or had found pretty or otherwise interesting. "Um, if you would like to see... I have this. This is a mobile device used to call or message someone almost anywhere in the human world. It also has pictures from places I have been or visited... so that you can see a little of how some of Japan looks now." She glanced up from the glow of the screen. Swallowed hard and awaited to be told whether or not she could approach-- or if the woman would choose to come over on her own. "You can go from the northern most part of Japan, Aomori, to the southern most, Kagoshima, in as little as nearly four hours nowadays... or half a day by bullet train."

She tried to ignore that whole part about her abilities being, um, very non-standard for Shinigami. Ironic, just a bit, given that a Shinigami and an Arrancar were both responsible for the basic instruction of and development of said abilities.

Maybe, just maybe, with the new information and evidence in front of her, she'd forget about that little abilities thing.

I fuckin' doubt that much. The nuisance in her mind sassed.

Sekai, unfortunately, couldn't find it in her to disagree and so chose to ignore her instead.

--
WC: 1183
GP: 23