All The World Loves A Fool

Started by Tatsuya Horio at Dec 31, 2021 3:43 PM
Principal 11, 1412
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33Age
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38 Posts

Tatsuya consulted the paperwork he had been given only a few sparse hours ago. The scroll stated that Tatsuya was to wake the dragon--so to speak. That was, the owner of the assassination school wanted Tatsuya to find a florist that once acted as one of the best assassins in Yamato once upon a time. Just because he retired, the owner said, didn't mean that he had lost that title. They needed somebody of higher caliber than their students for this one, although Tatsuya thought he knew of a couple of promising names that could have been tossed into the ring.

Who was he to argue with the owner, though? Tatsuya was nothing but his subordinate and for all he knew, these words were coming down from the emperor himself. Not that Tatsuya trusted a king who was said to be possessed by the spirit of a legendary beast but he could do nothing else, lest he be arrested for treason.

A sigh escaped his lips and Tatsuya rolled the scroll back up and slid the red silk around it before he tucked it away into the travel pack sitting on his desk. Checking its contents over, making sure he had his apricorn balls and anything else he might needed, he cinched the bag closed and slung it over his shoulder. Another sweeping look over his chambers and another sigh.

Finding Ibuki Mikoto proved not to be as terribly difficult as he thought it would be. As a florist, Mikoto appeared to be making a new name for himself. Whatever Tatsuya was imagining had become of Mikoto since he last laid eyes on him, this was not it. But then, at the time, they were serving the previous emperor and using their varying skills in war. Now Mikoto had settled down and become a peaceful florist and Tatsuya hadn't escaped war the way he would have liked. He may have retired from the army proper but he was still teaching youngsters to become assassins like Mikoto.

Curiously peeking through into the floral shop, Tatsuya found himself surrounded in the lazy, sweet scent of flowers. Oh no... His face screwed up and he turned his head away as he sneezed into the crook of his arm.

"Excuse me," he said, in case somebody had been nearby and also to alert Mikoto's attention. He had to be around here somewhere... right? "Ibuki Mikoto? Are you here?"



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death offers you thorns, eternity offers you roses, and life offers you both.

Ordinary Gardener
32Age
6'0Height
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When people enter his quaint shop, he expects them to do so with purpose. Excuses such as coming on a whim or checking it out do not cut it for the man who planted this sapling of an establishment that has blossomed into a prosperous business. Ergo, he always expresses wariness the moment he hears the pitter-patter of footsteps against the wooden floorboards.

This time, however, he is not alerted by the sound of feet but the undeniable sound of someone sneezing. A heavy sigh departs from his lips, and the frown he frequently touts immediately tightens. It does him no good to have someone expelling germs in the vicinity of his delicate flowers. However, he is not enough of a churl to deny someone patronage just because of allergies or whatever may ail them. And so he takes a detour, plucking from his room a silk handkerchief should his potential customer be in need of one.

"Coming," he answers tersely, his voice raised enough so that it should resound through the corridor and into the shop. True to his word, he appears within the moment, handkerchief draped on his arm, emulating the hired hands residing in his master's manse. The moment he sets his gaze on the man who summoned him, a glimmer of recognition flashes within his amber hues. And yet he cannot properly place where he has previously encountered him. He has met many an individual in his (relatively short) lifetime; he cannot be expected to immediately recall most of them. Still, that mere instance of recognition, hazy as it may be, signifies that this person has some degree of import.

( And, he cannot shake the feeling that he is not here for flowers. )

"I am Ibuki." He bows out of courtesy, then folds his arms as he adds, "How may I help you?" Whilst he leaves his question to linger in the air, he scrutinises the man, seeking any trace of distinction that may jog his memory.


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33Age
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38 Posts

How may I help you?

Indeed, the simple question did linger in the air for a moment as Tatsu regarded Ibuki. No well met, no how's tricks? Nothing of the sort, though he supposed he should have expected this. Friends amongst assassins. What a riot. The thing was, Tatsu had friends, and although some thought him aloof by appearance alone, Tatsu was far from that. Having witnessed death and destruction from an early age, he might have turned out that way, as so many before--and after him--had done. Yet Tatsu liked to make friends. He was a man who would take a colleague out for a sake to reminisce over the less bitter parts of their jobs. Camaraderie like that built on the battlefield was stronger than than the average friendship.

He and Ibuki had never been that close, despite their close range in age and similar line of work. Plus, as reserved as Ibuki had been then, he seemed all the more so now, despite the gentle flowers surrounding him.

It might have made him laugh, if only he weren't so well trained.

Bowing before Ibuki, he spoke.

"Horio Tatsuya," he introduced himself. Then he held out the scroll, held together with red silk. "We have been drafted for work by the owner of the school."

He said the word school rather delicately, knowing full well that the school he spoke of was no ordinary school. Lifting his gaze, he tried to get a read on Ibuki's inscrutable visage.

"The owner sends this message down from the emperor."

He felt he didn't have the emphasize what that meant--for the both of them.

 

[OOC Note: The job is to find and eliminate Shen.)



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