Rain [Kiyomi]

[Kensei Musashi]

"The rain has come" he spoke softly, sitting in his seat, eyes only seeing the sight of the downpour upon the land. Every little drizzle of rain sounded like the beat of a heavy drum in his ears as it drowned out the sounds of the other people around the dojo, as it drowned out the world. All he could see and feel was himself and the rain. In his mind, the world ceased to exist amidst the pouring rain. For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to look downwards, looking at his left hand, where the little finger seemed to be missing the top part where his fingertip and nail had once been. Now, the digit was merely a useless stump that hindered him, reminding him of just how weak and useless he himself was.

For a single moment, he closed his eyes, regretting it as the sight of a simple, dark-haired woman with a white cloth around her eyes appeared within the depths of the darkness, her hands reaching out and holding him. Holding him with such warmth that he himself was incapable of. But opening his eyes again, he confirmed that it was only a vision, a reminder of the past. A vision that only served to hammer another nail into his chest, making him gasp lightly and sharply for a moment before taking in air again. He hated the rain. Because that night, when everything had changed, it had been raining just like this. Whenever he saw the rain, he was pulled back to that night. If he was cursed with eternal rain, then he only wished for the chance to erase that day from his mind.

Standing up, he turned around and walked inside, to find the entire dojo empty of people. He had been the last person to remain around after the others left, mainly due to him being the one giving the lesson earlier. There had been a reason why people called him "Kensei" - His swordsmanship seemed unmatched by the other Samurai under the Emperor, though he himself would deny it constantly. He was, after all, only a human. Setting a few bokken back on their stands, he paused as he heard, through the pitter-patter of the rain, the doors to the dojo shift and open. Someone else had come here, whether to seek comfort from the rain or in an attempt to find him here. Turning around, he looked towards the doors to see just who had entered.

[Kiyomi Kato]

Kiyomi walked through the halls of the palace, pressed as close to the wall as she possibly could be without being flat against it, doing her best to stay out of the way of bustling consorts, not liking to be around so many people. There was a foul taste in her mouth, one that always lingered after she had been to the palace's throne room, after she had spoken with the Emperor. His voice alone was so foul it polluted the air, made her want to gag and choke, and it took all her willpower to stand in his presence without either fainting or cringing, and she prided herself on her resistance.

At first she had feared the task the strange serpentine man had given her, wondering how she could, if called upon, kill her own order, kill the man she had sworn her life to protect. But with each passing day, with each time she set eyes upon the self-proclaimed God who had ruined her life, the thought of snapping his neck became easier, if not actually pleasurable. In killing him she would take her revenge, and in taking revenge, she would have her sister returned to her. She would have a family again.

As she neared the grand hallway, leading to the Palace's water gardens, the number of people around her only increased. She heard the whines of the Empresses servants, complaining about rain, about how it would make the paint on their faces run, how it would ruin the hair pieces they had put in. A few gruff voices, no doubt guards, were telling people it was only water, that they didn't need to shelter. Turning the last corner toward the exit, she saw hundreds of huddled beings, humans hunched over in the great entrance, and beyond them a downpour so strong that it threatened to wash away the very foundations of the palace.

Kiyomi's eyes narrowed, and she swiftly turned and retraced her steps. She would not work her way through those people. She would not, under any circumstance, be that close to people she didn't know, be associated with that thronging mass. Slipping down a few more deserted halls, she finally came to a quieter area of the palace, where she heard very few voices, and no-one wandered about complaining about the smallest of life's details.

She made her way to the end of the hall, unsure of exactly where she was, as it was not a route she had taken many times before, and slid the door open, hoping that it was an exit. Rather, it opened out in to a large, plainly decorated room, filled with wooden swords and slightly padded robes. Instantly, she recognized the palace dojo, the training grounds of the Emperor's samurai. She had been there only once, but her memory of the room was flawless. Kiyomi had her bearings.

A slight shifting to one side of the room caught her attention, and her eyes flicked quickly across to its cause, a tall, dark haired man, with a serious face and a somewhat placid demeanour. She recognized him too. While they had never met, she had seen him at a number of the Emperor's ceremonies, and had heard tales of him among other warriors. He was known to be the youngest ever teacher of swordsmanship at the palace, and was said to be unmatched through-out the entirety of the Emperor's army. She glanced at his hands, looking for the missing little finger that would confirm her recognition. Her lips twitched into a smile when her suspicions were confirmed. Standing here, bokken in hand, he didn't look quite as tough as people had made him out to be.

Still, she had no wish to delay the return to her home any longer than was necessary; she had a meeting with her snake-like advisor that she did not wish to miss. Bowing quickly, the fringe of her hair falling in her face, she prepared to take her leave.
“I am sorry I disturbed you...” she would usually have ended the sentence like that, her pride not allowing her to give others titles; but for some reason unknown to her she continued, as if some forgotten respect flowed through her being “...Kensei”

[Kensei Musashi]

As he turned, he caught sight of a woman a few years older than him, with a darker skin tone he'd seen in any other person he'd met. For a moment his curiosity had made him wonder if she was from a foreign land, although he pushed that thought back. It was not uncommon for people to tan in the sun - perhaps her origins had been in a sunnier place than where he had lived his life. Not wanting to seem in any way rude, rather than getting lost in his thoughts, he simply placed the Bokken away and stood, giving a small bow to the woman before him. "You need not refer to me by my last name or title - Musashi will do" he greeted her, surprisingly casual about allowing her the use of his first name. Most people would hold first-name basis to be a much more important thing, but he was a lax person.

"I am afraid I do not remember seeing you around the Palace before - Might I ask who you are?" he spoke softly. To eliminate any trace of the sadness the rain had brought him, he put on a seemingly warm smile and friendly countenance, though it was only a skin-deep facade. He wasn't against showing emotion, but he did not want to trouble anyone with the knowledge of how he felt. Of the guilt he felt every time he stared into the rain. No, being the sole bearer of this knowledge would be his punishment. The guilt that weighed down heavier every day would slowly crush him, just as he wished. But for the moment, he was to be his friendly, usual self and forget the sadness, or at least suppress it for the moment. "Oh, and you needn't be worried about disturbing me - I was simply putting back some of our dojo's weapons. Our day's training is, for the moment at least, over" he informed her politely, dispelling the notion that she had in any way disturbed him.

Walking over to the back wall, he lightly tugged on a door to reveal a small kitchen at the back before turning back to the woman. "If you wish, I have already put on some tea. Would you be interested in having some? There are some cushions in the compartment on the left if you wish to sit down" he told her, his hospitality showing through. In addition to being a place of training, the dojo was almost a sanctuary - nay, a home for him. In return for living there, he offered his training to the Samurai who served the Emperor, his own way of giving something back to the Emperor who had taken him in and given him the title he now went by despite being only an orphan.

[Kiyomi Kato]

As Kiyomi rose from her bow, she was forced to look long and hard at the Kensei again. Unlike most of his stature, arrogant and self-possessed, this man seemed a little more...relaxed? Humane? He had, almost immediately, asked her to call him by his first name, something saved normally for a much closer relationship than that of vague acquaintance. She narrowed her eyes, caught a little off guard by the man's demeanour, something that was not an often occurrence for her, as usually, she was a good judge others. It was, after all, the first step she would take in winning a fight. Judging her opponent, readying herself for any movement, mental or physical, they may make. She hated surprises, and this man had done just that.

“Kiyomi” she said softly, beginning to answer his question, “being as we are using first names.” A strange feeling hung in her gut. She rarely gave her name, and tended to hesitate before doing so. However, there was something about this kinder-than-expected man that made her feel as though she had to tell him who she was, as if in remaining silent and leaving, she would be dishonouring him, and worse, herself.

She watched him carefully, barely moving as he continued to place training weapons away, as he walked to the back of the room, sliding open a door that she had previously missed. He neglected her apology, saying that he had not been disturbed, but she doubted that he was telling the truth. When she had first set eyes on him, he had worn the slightly disoriented look of a man who had been lost in his own silent reverie, and was dragged from it by some outside interference. Whether that was her, which she figured it was, she neither knew nor cared. It had however given her an excuse to leave quickly. However, his acceptance of her appearance had ruined that, and she would need to think of some other way to leave without looking rude, damaging her reputation. Now he had her name, rumour could be spread, and she would not allow her honour or pride to be damaged by one unkind act.

Offering her tea, she had to stop herself from wincing. Inclining her head a little, she thought through all the reasons she could to be excused, but none seemed good enough. “I suppose I could stay a little for tea.” Her mouth moved though she thought not of the motions it went through, and she cursed herself silently for agreeing. What was she doing? Why on earth did she feel so inclined to act differently, more kindly, around this man, when she was happy to treat almost everyone else with scorn and disrespect. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps it was because he was so different to how she'd imagined, and it had captured her interest. Yes, that must be it. She had no other reason for wanting to be nice.

Shaking her head quickly, she walked toward the room Musashi had revealed, and seated herself neatly on one of the padded floor cushions in the compartment. Her eyes never left him. Ever. He was like a specimen that she had to examine, the first person in years to surprise her, to make her feel like she needed to change to please them. “Oh,” she began, a little off-handedly, “and you are forgiven for not recognizing me. I am a not a well known face around the palace.” And it's true, she wasn't. Despite the tattoo marring her cheek, very few people had ever seen her face or made her acquaintance. Huddling into her tan over robe a little, the sound of the rain making her shiver, she realized a little reluctantly that she was looking forward to the warm drink.

[Kensei Musashi]

Stepping out from the kitchen for a moment, he took hold of the compartment he mentioned earlier and pulled out a cushion for both himself and his guest, before standing up and pulling open a larger closet of sorts from which he retrieved a small table, which he proceeded to set down between the two seats. His movements had been relaxed and simple, quiet and gentle. No matter what was said of this man, it was impossible to think of him as anything more than a gentle soul from how he looked and acted. Retreating to the small kitchen, he brought back a small teapot and two cups. Setting both down, one on his side and one on his guest's side, he proceeded to pour tea into her cup first, filling it three quarters of the way before proceeding to do the same for his own cup, setting the teapot down between them once done.

"It is nice to meet you, Kiyomi-san. Normally I do not see many guests coming by here. But then, I suppose I am not expecting any" he admitted, smiling politely as he took a hold of his cup with both hands, the left one seemingly gripping harder than the right to make up for his missing finger. Raising the cup to his lips, he took a short sip of the tea. It was Gyokuro Green Tea, the highest grade of tea available in Japan, known for a mellow yet somewhat sweet flavor. As he sipped slowly, he felt it flow down the back of his throat. Setting his cup back down, he looked back to his guest. From afar, it was easily missed, but there was a thin line going down his left side of his face through his eye that was a shade lighter than the rest - the remnants of a scar and a clear sign of the face he was a Samurai, if nothing else.

"I see, so you work around the palace as well. Well, I suppose that may explain why I do not recognize you then" he agreed with her comment, only to pause for a moment. "Well, in any case, might I ask what brought you here? Of course, I would not be surprised if it had something to do with the rain - there are many who would rather avoid it, if they could. I could not deny I am one of them" he remarked, making some small talk. It was truly bizarre how some people could completely defy people's expectations - many would think he drowned himself in the fame of his ability, but he was as modest as any servant would be, not showing even a hint of pride.

[Kiyomi Kato]

Kiyomi allowed herself to settle down a bit, liking the sounds of Musashi's somewhat inane bustling, the sound of tea being poured, the sound of pots clattering together. It was a sound she had almost forgotten, as when one lived in solitude, one did not notice the sounds pots made when one prepared ones own drinks. It reminded her of long lost home, of a long lost family, and it only aided in her convincing herself to stay in the dojo a little longer, to not try and leave rudely.

Her host was, by all accounts, the perfect host. He served her drink first, filling the cup exactly to the point it should be, and then his own. Sitting across the small table from him, she watched his movements as he went to pick up his cup, amber eyes caught for a moment on his missing finger and the strain it seemed to put on the rest of his hand, the muscles seeming much tenser than that of his other hand. “It is nice to meet you too, Musashi-san.” she said, not because she wanted to or because it was true, but because it was polite to repeat his spoken sentiment.

Tearing her gaze away, not wishing to stare, and lifted her own cup, taking a leisurely sip. The warm liquid warmed the throat, and then her insides, and she smiled despite herself. It was a far higher grade of tea than she was used to, and it was quite the treat. There was a subtle sweetness to it, and she took another sip greedily, finding the taste complimented the sound of the rain against the dojo's walls.

With a slight sigh, she lowered her cup back to the table, realizing she probably seemed a little rude. She blinked, and then quickly lifted her hand to her face, brushing her fringe back away from her face. She finally brought her hands back to sit in her lap. “I suppose you could say I work around the palace. More in the grounds, though, than the palace itself.” She had lied, obviously. She did not work in the palace at all. But then, those of her occupation could not reveal what they were to others. It was in the oath she had sworn to her mentors, and while there were parts of her oath she did not take so seriously any more, that part still seemed of great importance.

Her eyes travelled then to his face, focusing on his eyes, and the features that defined them. She would put them to memory. She did not like forgetting faces, and made a habit of remembering them. She scanned his somewhat stern brow, then his contrasting warm smile. It was during her face-gazing that she noticed a slightly raised line of skin, a little discoloured, a milky-white streak against his slightly darker skin. A scar, no doubt from a sword, worn like a badge of honour. That she appreciated, and thought of the cuts and scrapes she had taken in her time, the tattoo's that showed her allegiance to her order.

“I came here not to escape the rain, but rather the people the rain seems to bring in with it.” she smiled a little, inclining her head sideways, motioning to the door she had entered through. “There is a crowd stood in the entrance hall like you would not imagine. It looked as though the Emperor himself was about to give a speech.” That was most personal piece of information she had given someone in years. It was the longest conversation she'd had with someone in weeks. She was proud of herself. She had gotten so used to solitude she had almost forgotten she could interact with others. “I was merely looking for an alternate route out. I happened to stumble across this place in my search. And you? I see no students that need teaching at the moment, nor did I pass any on my way here.”

She reached up, and took another sip of her drink. “If I may be so bold, Musashi-san, may I inquire as to how you,” she nodded at his hand, “came to lose your finger?” Probing as always, Kiyomi cared not if it was proper to ask such questions or not. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, and as her judgement of the man had been wrong, she now wanted to learn, to know who he really was. Who knows if she'd ever need to call on him, or kill him?

[Kensei Musashi]

"Ah, I see then" he commented, listening closely as she told him about her reasons for being here. "I suppose that is as good a reason as any. I myself dislike the loudness of some crowds - a nice, quiet talk like this is enough" he remarked, somewhat understanding why she may have not wanted to be near the crowds that had gathered in from the rain. He took another quiet sip of his drink, chuckling in an amused fashion to himself. Though he claimed to dislike crowds, he still taught a full class of Samurai. Though, fortunately, they were very disciplined warriors who hung onto his every word and demonstration. They were not particularly loud save for during their time off and when they were drunk - many of them were then quite rowdy when the sake passed their lips.

"Ah, myself? Well, I claimed to have been cleaning up after the class, didn't I? Though I suppose that was not all - In truth, on days such as these, where the rain almost ceases to stop pouring, I prefer the comfort of this dojo and this tea. It helps me relax" he admitted to her as he set down his cup again. Truth be told, even without her presence he would have had his tea and sat in solitude. On rainy days like these he rarely ventured out despite his friendly demeanor, except when it was absolutely necessary. Such as when the Emperor asked for him, for example. Though on those such days, he rarely got away from the... Tenseness? The restlessness? It was difficult to describe. Stirred from those thoughts however, she proceeded to ask him another question, this one far more personal.

"My finger?" he repeated, hesitating for a moment. It had been a long while since someone had asked him what had caused it. But even so, so as to remain polite, he pushed those thoughts back and answered. "I lost my little finger on the same day I gained this scar. It was on a rainy day at least three years ago, during the spring, that a fierce demon attacked the village and palace. I was called upon to protect the Emperor and I did my duty to him" he answered, though in effect he'd neglected the real reason. It was true that the incident then had been the cause, but he'd left out the most crucial point - without that point, one might assume he'd simply lost it in the battle, but it had been an event that followed the battle. But he couldn't tell her that - this was his cross to bear, something she had no part in.

After all, how could he confide in her his past sins?

[Kiyomi Kato]

Listening to Musashi talk, Kiyomi began to make some rather quick guesses about the kind of person he was, taking what he said, processing and judging it, and then apply what she felt she learned to his general demeanour. From what he said, she assumed that he and her were rather alike in some respects. Their dislike of crowds showed both to be solitary, lonely people who liked their own company, and she figured that, by the warmth of his smile, he taught because he felt he was helping others, that he was doing the world some service. That, or he was trying to atone for some life changing mistake he had once made. Either was possible, but she figured the first to be more likely, as she had never seen a man as warm as him hide a deep seated, painful secret.

“I had figured that your warriors were not that messy” she said with a slight smile. “Not that I can blame you for staying here. It seems very peaceful here. It must be a nice place to meditate, to get lost within your own mind. It doesn't feel it is even a part of the rest of the palace.” Kiyomi looked around wistfully, wishing she had somewhere like this to retreat to, wishing that she could find somewhere she could be at peace. It was with a heavy heart she knew she never could. It was not the places she went that were the problem, it was her inner mind, her inner self. She allowed the places she went to be tainted, to be places of unrest, and nothing she did would change that. The situation she was in, the character she had; everything lead to her inner turmoil.

She realized she had drifted off, and quickly sipped her tea, trying to make up for her silence. Two gulps later, the liquid had gone, and she placed her cup back on the table carefully. Much to her happiness, Musashi had begun telling her of how he had come to lose his finger, and it would only add to the picture of him she was painting in her mind. She was glad that he was not afraid or ashamed of his past, glad that she wouldn't have to dig too deeply.

“Did the demon take your finger then?” she asked, as he seemed to trail off. Demons, such a strange notion. She had heard of such creatures, though had never seen one, and nor did she know much about them. She figured them to be shadowy creatures, beasts in human form that lived on the fringes of human society, a little like her, but with an aura of discomfort about them. However, it was only speculation.

“And tell me, did you slay the demon? If you did, then perhaps we should call you Musashi Demon-Slayer instead of merely Kensei?” She smiled, although there was little warmth in it. This man was quickly beginning to become more of an issue by the moment. First he had confounded her. Then he had surprised her. Now, she was finding out that he was loyal to the Emperor, would risk his life for the man, and had more bravery than even the strongest of warriors lacked. To charge head on into a fight with the unknown... If she was called upon, if she had to betray her people, her Emperor, she was beginning to hope that Musashi was not going to be around to try and stop her. If he was anywhere near as skilled as people said, as he seemed, then he could prove a serious obstacle in her escape, and even if she over came him, he would have delayed her long enough to let his warriors have their chance at killing her.

“Have you trained long?” she asked quickly, now glad she had stayed for a very different reason. This was one servant of the Emperor that Kiyomi did not want to underestimate, and was glad she had the time to work him out before any issues could arise at a later date. If they did. She didn't know if she was going to be asked to kill anyone, and if she was, if Musashi would try and stop her. Currently just an informant, that may be all she remained. But, as her teachers had always told her, be prepared. There was a chance the two could meet in battle, and Kiyomi wanted to know what she was up against if they ever should.

[Kensei Musashi]

"Indeed. You could say that. Though I have taught them the sword, they are quite disciplined themselves even without my help. I would imagine they are either very serious about becoming samurai, or that the old teacher had been quite skilled" he answered her, confirming that his men were indeed quite well-disciplined. Regardless of how they acted when not training or on the job, he could not say anything bad of a single one of them, and not just because he was a friendly man who saw the good in people. "Perhaps, then, one of them may earn the title of "Kensei" or "Sword Saint", too" he praised them, though many would say he was being far too modest himself. In truth, he never once tried to praise his abilities - despite how many looked up to him, he considered himself only another student, learning many new things each day.

"I must also agree that this is indeed a good place for meditation. It feels less like a dojo and more like a home, if I do say so myself. The Emperor was quite generous in allowing me to stay here. There are many others who I believe would love to stay in a place such as this - I almost feel unworthy of it" he admitted, chuckling as he took another sip of his drink. Despite his hesitance to answer, she'd probed further for information on his missing finger. The little digit she'd taken an interest in. Setting down his cup again, he sighed, before casting his red-eyed gaze back towards her, ready to answer her questions.

"You could say that, too" he admitted, though still he withheld information regarding the circumstances. "Had the demon not arrived, I never would have lost it, nor gained this scar. Although, whether it was a demon or an assassin or even a rogue swordsman attacking the palace, I suppose the result would have been the same". He paused for a moment, taking another sip of his still warm drink. Setting it back down gently, he continued. "As for the task of defeating the demon, I am afraid that was not my place. No one man was able to stand against it on his own, and we could only hold it off until a professional Demon-Slayer was able to strike it down. Fortunately, that alone was enough to, at the very least, protect the Emperor and his family".

At last, she'd managed to change the subject, now asking him of his training. At that, he gave a warm smile, looking up at her with a hint of nostalgia in him. "Ah, I remember it well. At a young age, I became the apprentice of a master named Miyamoto Bennosuke, who taught me many things. Battoujutsu, Iaido, Kendo... All ways of the sword. Unfortunately, he succumbed to illness and I, with nothing to my name, wandered the lands. When news spread that I was a skilled and masterful Samurai, the Emperor, apparently hearing of my reputation, decided to ask me to serve him. As I had nothing better to do, I obeyed, and he gave me the title of "Kensei". So, I suppose that means my training paid off, to some extent" he admitted.

[Kiyomi Kato]

Kiyomi hid her hands under the table when Musashi mentioned the Emperor, speaking highly of him, as if he'd done him some great service. Her usually tan knuckles turned almost a pale white as she balled her previously relaxed hands into tight fists. The respect she had for him, his room, it dwindled a little. Anyone who looked up to the Emperor, anyone who doted on his gifts and faint praise, they were as foolish as he was. “The Emperor only serves himself” she snapped, before realizing that saying such a thing would be seen as remarkably improper, and could, if not corrected, have terrible consequences. “So clearly, you do deserve your room. He would not have given it to you if he didn't think you were worthy of it.” she managed, doing her best not to clench her teeth. She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she decided quite quickly that the subject matter needed to be changed. She was glad that he had continued with his tale.

“Well still, holding off a demon like that must take some skill. You shouldn't be modest about such feats. From what I have heard, surviving an encounter with an angry demon is a remarkably difficult task, and one that very few accomplish.” Still, the knowledge that he hadn't slain it was comforting to her. If he hadn't slain it, he might be more humanely skilled than she had previously believed.

It seems as though are pasts are somewhat similar. She said with a smile, deliberating on whether to elaborate or not. While she could not tell him the full story, giving him a sense of likeness, even of camaraderie, may make him hesitate to harm her should he ever try. “I too was taken in after being trained by a wanderer. It seems as though we have different sets of skills though.” She raised her eyebrows a little before continuing, a look of displeasure crossing her previously placid face. “However, my teacher had not passed on, and I don't think I was as ready for service as you seemed to be.” A sad smile crossed her face, but she quickly let it pass, composing herself again, hopefully before anyone could notice.

“So is there any skill that you lack, or are you proficient in every way of the sword?” Now came her asking about combat style and technique. Perhaps the most important of all the questions she would ask, Kiyomi had to know the fighting styles of her enemies if she had any chance of beating them. Usually she could work out how to over come others in the heat of battle, but such risks were better left untaken. She also lacked any experience against samurai, and knew their renown. She did not want to think herself better than them, and then be unpleasantly surprised.

It was then that an idea came to her, and her eyes flashed to the bokken on the walls of the dojo. A thin smile spread across her face, and she inclined her head a little. “And if you are, maybe you could show me?”

[Kensei Musashi]

Musashi paused for a moment, his brow rising ever so slightly as she remarked how the Emperor only served himself. It was a curious outburst, something he'd not expected of her. The way she said it, it had to have been sincere, something she actually did think. How someone who worked within the Palace, or at least it's courtyards, could in any way be dissatisfied with the Emperor would normally make one think they may have, on some level, some sort of dislike or even hatred for them. But even so, he could prove nothing. He did not see a reason nor an explanation, so for the moment it was not worth looking into. However, she proceeded to state how, if he had been accepted by the Emperor, he therefore must have deserved the dojo. Completely forgetting the remark ever took place, he gave a soft smile.

"I suppose, when you put it like that, then it must make sense" he replied. "But I have no problem with being modest. In the end, I am, after all, only one man. Even the greatest of men have had their weaknesses, their faults. There is a saying, 'Develop the mind of equilibrium.'You will always be getting praise and blame, but do not let either affect the poise of the mind: follow the calmness, the absence of pride'. Even if I have faced down a demon, that does not make me any better a blind man who has readily accepted that there are things he can and cannot do" he told her, thinking back to the Buddhist sayings his master once told him. He'd never been the religious type, but this way of thinking was not unlike how he'd made his living. If anything, it was a philosophy worth following.

"Ah, so you too were trained? I suppose he must have been a great teacher, if you have gotten this far in your life. It is also good to know that he has not succumbed to the same fate as Miyamoto-Sensei" he admitted, smiling warmly again as he took another drink from his cup, the beverage now almost gone. "It is quite interesting, meeting another who has been dealt a similar hand in life. I would almost wonder if this had been some predestined meeting rather than chance. Fate, as they say, has strange ways of working" he chuckled, setting down the cup before him. Brushing a lock of his dark hair back from his face, he raised an amused brow at her next question, smiling again.

"Ah, I have been taught many forms. I don't think there is a style I have not at least familiarized myself with, at least within this nation. If you traveled westwards, there would no doubt be a world of amazing and different styles yet unseen in this land. However, regardless of my prowess with the sword, I am afraid that even I must admit that, in a true battle, the sword would fail against the naginata. I'm sure you know that, since spears have a much longer range than an average sword, it is said that a swordsman would require three times the strength to beat a spears-man. Knowing this, I have begun training myself in the art of the naginata, although I have yet to show the fruits of my training. Still, at the very least, I am learning new things" he remarked, smiling.

"Although, if you would like a demonstration, I would be happy to oblige" he responded, standing up. Slowly walking towards the sword rack, he grabbed a bokken from the stand and lifted it, turning it around in his arm before proceeding to fit it through his obi sash as though it were a sheathed blade, his left hand pretending to clutch a scabbard whilst his right arm maintained a steady grip on the sword's hilt. Walking towards a post, he crouched slightly, assuming a proper stance. After a few moments of silence, he moved - At once, the blade left the invisible sheath immediately, swinging through the air as his right foot stepped forwards and smacking the post with such force that the air seemed to make a cracking noise, the post shaking visibly from the force of the hit. With his arm outstretched, holding the bokken out, he sighed at last and returned to a standing position, swinging his bokken as though flicking the blood off of a normal sword before replacing it in an imaginary scabbard. Turning back, he spoke.

"How was that, may I ask? That was the art of drawing and resheathing - Iaido" he explained to her, smiling still.

[Kiyomi Kato]

Kiyomi only nodded solemnly at his almost spiritual saying, thinking of nothing more to add to it. She herself held very little in the way of spiritual belief, rather focusing her learning all in ninjutsu. That, to her, was her body, her soul, her everything, and where priestesses and monks devoted themselves to a higher order, her old clan had been hers. However, there was a deep resonance in Musashi's words, and she did not need to be well versed in any one religion to understand its meaning or to know it to be true.

Her next comment amused her somewhat, and despite the gravity of his saying only moments before, she smirked, and then let out a small chuckle. “I am not that old Musashi-san. I have not come that far in my life. I hopefully still have a number of years to live out, numerous more paths to travel.” However, as she spoke the words, she doubted them. She wished what she had said to be true, but she couldn't help thinking that, with the game she was playing, with the power both of her masters had, her time was limited. No matter which side she chose, she doubted that the fates would favour her for her actions. Musashi's next sentence came dangerously close to her line of thought, and she narrowed her eyes a little. What if it was not chance that they had met? What if the fates had brought them together so that she could meet the man who would kill her, the man who would end her deception? “It does seem that way.” she murmured, before banishing the thought from her mind. She must not let foolish ideas like that cloud her judgement. There existed no fate, only reality, and only her choices and actions would effect her life. To think she was dead already was pointless. To survive, she had to believe it first possible.

Back to judging her possible opponent, she listened as he spoke of numerous forms, and finally, of the naginata; the spear. She pulled a sour expression as he explained it's uses, and of his recent training with it. Through-out her life, she had prided herself on her skill with weaponry, with her bare hands, her kunai or her clan's ninjato. However, the one thing she had never mastered, nor had ever been able to fight against, was the spear. Its range always left her on her back foot, and despite her best efforts, she tended to have to flee or shuriken the bearers of such weapons. If Musashi had any skill, like he said he did, with the weapon, she would have to hone her skills more than she already had.

“Learning new things is all one can ask.” she replied, a little hurriedly, as if eager to get to his demonstration. Her eyes never left him as he stood, and she watched intently as he removed the bokken from the wall, placing it in the sash around his waist. A strange calm seemed to overtake the man, and stepping forward, he drew the weapon in one swift motion, and with a speed she had rarely seen in another, swung it horizontally, hitting the wooden post with such force that it struck. A resonant cracking sounded, as if the air itself had been cut apart by the man's movement. When she breathed out, she realized she had been holding her breath. 'How was that, may I ask? That was the art of drawing and resheathing- Iaido.' He did not need to ask how it was, for she knew, deep down, that he was sure enough in his own skill to know it was perfect.

“That was...quite something.” she said, clapping her hands gently together. With that, she rose, one graceful and fluid movement, and walked toward the wall, taking a bokken herself. Holding it in his hand as he had done, she swung it slowly in the same motion, mimicking his movement. Lowering it to her side, she turned toward him, and took a few steps, so that she was at his side. She held to bokken up to him, wooden blade pointed at his throat, and, inclining her head slightly, she asked simply “May I?” Her lips opened in a seductive smile.

To learn how to beat him, or any other samurai she should ever meet in battle, she would have to know their every movement. There was no better way of learning how they fought than by actually fighting with them.

[Kensei Musashi]

Musashi smiled, giving a soft chuckle as he watched her surprised expression, apparently impressed by his swordsmanship. "My apologies then, Kiyomi-san. I did not mean to imply that you are old. However, even reaching my own age can be a difficult task in itself, can't it?" he spoke those words with the smallest hint of guilt and depression, though hidden within the jovial, lax tone he used with everyone. However, he shook himself from those thoughts as he refocused himself on what happened before him, witnessing Kiyomi taking hold of a bokken herself and swinging it up, mimicking his own movement, before walking towards him and holding it to his throat in a daring challenge. Her question consisted of only two words, which brought a smile to his face.

"If you so wish, I am willing to give you a round" he told her, smiling as he stepped back a bit, holding his own bokken up properly. He adjusted himself, accommodating himself to the weight of the weapon as he assumed his stance, making up for the difference between the weights of the wooden sword and the real thing. He held it firmly but not too tightly, left hand gripping the lower half whilst his right hand gripped the upper half of the hilt. The tip of his bokken remained no higher nor lower than was necessary, finding a balance between the two that suited him. Raising his vision towards Kiyomi once he was satisfied, he waited patiently for her to assume her own stance, allowing her to prepare herself before they sparred. "When you are ready, I will begin" he spoke, awaiting that moment.

When both were sufficiently prepared, he sprung from his position on his back foot, closing the gap between them swiftly as he began with the simplest of attacks - a downwards, cutting motion aimed for the head. Or at least, in most cases, it would have hit the head, though as they were sparring, he instead decided to aim for the shoulder, not seeing a reason to target the head or face of his opponent. He wanted to start off slowly, see how she reacted and get a feel for her movements before he tried anything more complicated. He smiled brightly, maintaining his focus. "I hope you don't mind me taking things easy to begin with. One mustn't forget the basics, after all" he remarked, smiling up at Kiyomi during his initial attack.

[Kiyomi Kato]

“I suppose you're right Musashi-san. Life can be quite a hard thing to hold on to, and yet so easy to lose. It's like trying to keep a hold of a wet rope with someone tugging on the other end; near impossible for someone without the strength to keep their balance.” She dropped her head for a moment, feeling a wave of sadness pass over her. She bit her lip, fighting back any emotion that threatened to show itself. She knew, as good as any, how hard life was to keep. She had lost her own sister; her dear sister, and she had been a full eleven years younger than her. How was that fair? How was it she was still alive, when someone so much sweeter, so much younger, so much more deserving of life, had passed on?

Biting her lip harder, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She had to keep herself under control. She wouldn't show weakness. The samurai wasn't. If she spent too much time in her own mind, she'd miss things. Who knows what signs he may have given her in the time she had spent mourning. 'Enough' she told herself, and quickly looked back up at his smiling face, her gaze meeting his.

“I would be honoured to fight a quick round with you Kensei.” She inclined her head respectfully, and then quickly turned, taking a few steps to put a little space between them. When she faced him again, he had already assumed his position, legs apart, blade held firmly, tip pointed at her midsection. Quickly undoing the sash at her waist, she shrugged out of her over robe, revealing her form-fitting body-suit, her arms bare but for the pale material covering the metal greaves she wore about her wrists. She tilted her head to both sides, loosening her neck, and rolled her shoulder, warming her body before putting it through physical exertion.

Her own stance was a little less typical than Musashi's. She stood fairly straight, her body angled slightly, so that she stood diagonally toward him. Her bokken was held in one hand, pointing away from her opponent and the free one was held before her, fingers free to grab the clothing of those she fought. She bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment, and then inclined her head.
“I am ready when you are Musashi-san.”

He came at her much quicker than she had expected, using his back foot to push himself forward, swinging his bokken in an arc, aiming for her shoulder. She guessed in the heat of battle, he would have aimed for her head. Side stepping quickly, she moved to his left, and dragged her arms into her body so as his blade wouldn't catch them. As his momentum carried him past her, she flicked her sword arm out, aiming for one of the hands that held his weapon, trying to knock it from his grasp. “You're right. The basics of any art for are very important.” she replied, swinging next for the back of his knee, not waiting to see if her hand attack was at all fruitful. If it wasn't, she would try to bring him to his knees. Her amber eyes watched him with an unparalleled intensity. She had to memorize every move he took. She had to know how to beat him.

[Kensei Musashi]

Musashi smiled again, watching as she managed to sidestep past his first strike. Her body moved around his form and at once she made her move, intending to strike his hand and make him drop his weapon. In response, Musashi began to pull his back foot around, pivoting on his front foot and twisting his body back towards him. In the same movement he twirled his bokken around gently before swinging upwards, parrying the strike away from him in a swift, flowing movement. He was like water, flowing gently from one move to the next. "Good, good. You certainly understand the importance of disarming one's foe. It may have been a bit hasty, but there is no harm in trying to do these things early in the match" he remarked upon her own technique, giving her praise as he fought. His footwork managed to keep up with her, but he still remained impressed.

Now however she'd continued by redirecting her next swing downwards, aiming towards his knees. No doubt to limit his footwork and movements, he noted, smiling still. He was definitely impressed with her combat sense and judgment so far. "Ah, I see you are not someone I should take lightly. It is good then that we are only sparring" he commented. However, once more he managed to bring his sword low, deflecting her bokken down and pinning it towards the ground, preventing her from swinging it at his knees. Without a hint of hesitation, he suddenly brought his front foot up, pressing the toes down on the back of the bokken's 'blade', using it to keep her weapon pinned down as he now brought his bokken back upwards, aiming towards her chest with a thrusting strike in the opening he'd created.

"Do not just rely on openings your opponents seemingly create - remember to make your own openings. That is good advice, is it not?" he stated, before continuing. "Of course, I am sure you knew that before already, didn't you?" he added. Even if he had tried creating an opening, he knew there were still ways she could defend herself and avoid the attack. No one attack was ever certain, after all. He knew that full well - That was why he was always ready to accept the worst possible outcome of a move. It may have sounded pessimistic, but in reality, it was a sound way of thinking amongst those who engaged in fighting and war. It was something he'd honed under the tutelage of his master, Miyamoto Bennosuke.