Kyoto Base - Shogunate's Quarters
Holding her breathe as the Shogunate Guard walked past, the heavy boots of his ceremonial uniform giving away his approach, Hana struggled to keep her hold on the beams that hung across the stale, dimly light corridor. Few individuals knew of these passages - yet the benefit of the Hokama Reign meant Hana had free reign to learn all of Kyoto's secrets without objection. Once out of sight, the strain of her acrobatics made her sigh as she dropped down quietly. It had been a long time since she had done a stunt like this, and her age was getting the better of her. That, and the annoyance in the back of her head that she could not bring any of the Dream with her. She had to move quickly, before this haunting act caught up with her. Pushing the doors of the Shogun's study open, she bows to the shadow in the middle of the room as she enters. "Kon'nichiwa Hideyoshi-san."
The study was a surprising shift from the grandeur of the rest of the palace aboard Kyoto Base. It was covered with an array of ancient paper books strewn across the floor, various artifacts and relics of human origin adorning the wall, including the helmet of a KNF soldier and a rather worn katana next to it. In the middle was a large table across which many maps of Kusari were carefully drawn onto rolls of parchment, most likely done for the amusement of the reader rather than any true strategic purpose. A vast data terminal rested comfortably in the corner of the room, switched to sleep mode and surrounded by an assortment of datapads, some and some off. A small fireplace was the sole light in the room, though the heat and image were obviously simulated. Standing clad in what appeared to be simple street clothes, the Shogun turned around and looked at Hana Ken somewhat impatiently. He sat down in an armchair and laid back, sighing. "Took you a long time to get here, didn't it? I've been waiting for you," he said.
"Aahh.... eager to rush into discussion, or to cut a foe in twain?" She stood at the door, pushing it shut behind her, whilst watching Hideyoshi carefully. After a few moments, she begun walking slowly around the room taking in the scene. "It is a shame it is not a real fire... there is nothing quite like the heat from a true flame." Hana turned to face the Shogun, bowing in a traditional Dragon fashion before leaning against a wall near the door. A loud 'clunk' followed as the bag on her back was dropped onto the floor next to her. "Many manuals of etiquette written by the Hideyoshi family state that tea should be taken when important matters are discussed, I wonder if we should take the advice?" Grinning slightly, she crossed her arms. "...or perhaps important matters won't be being discussed?"
Yoshitsune scoffed. He gestured to an armchair across the room, looking comfortable where he was.
"Do I look armed, Hana-san? I let you in this far, so clearly I am not here to fight a Chrysanthemum in my own sanctum," he quipped, getting up and looking at the various maps on the table as she continued on. "Although pleasant, a fire in here is not practical. The fuel would be rather costly to obtain, the ventilation would be a needless addition... And it'd also interfere with my study too much to have to set up such a thing," he explained, pushing some parchments aside to look at others. "And personally... tradition is not truly worthy of my attention. Tradition is among the chief infecting agents of Kusari society today that continues to oppress those we fight for. It prevents us from using more modern methods, adopting more flexible strategies... The only thing tradition is good for is impressing those who cling blindly to the past. An idiotic ruler allows tradition to rule him. But a wise ruler rules over tradition. He molds it like a potter sculpts a bowl, crafting it to ensure that it serves its purpose properly. He uses the techniques of previous artisans to ensure the bowl has a solid foundation, but he must always take care to ensure that he does not let precedence interfere with his own design. And if he is successful, he becomes the new standard for others to follow, the new tradition," he espoused, pacing around the room and sizing up Hana.
The room seemed to glow with a sort of energy. Perhaps it was the rustic and homey atmosphere of the study indicating its frequent use. Or maybe it was the individual engaging in philosophical dialogue with the woman who had just broken in to his home. It didn't very much matter, however.
"So quite frankly, Hana-san... You do not strike me as someone who cares much for tradition. After all, you are a Golden Chrysanthemum, I would assume. A tea ceremony would serve no purpose between us. You have come to my home for a reason, I presume. And I am here to listen to that reason."
Hana smiled softly at his remarks. "You have a way with wise words... I hope in moments to come they translate to wise actions. Few who play a game with culture survive for it to be proven, and I hope this is not the case with you Hideyoshi." She frowns for a moment at the name, but checks herself and returns to her lingering smile. "Sumimasen, your name reminds me."
Scratching her neck slightly, Hana suddenly pushes herself off the wall. With a sigh she walks over to the middle of the room, picking up the long bag as she does so. "This is one of the reasons for intruding on your... private time." Untying the cotton string around the top of the top. Unfurling it, the decorative handle of a blade is revealed. Pulling the sheathed sword from the bag, the woman kneels down at the table with a groan as she holds the handle so that Yoshitsune can see the name etched into the guard; the light cast from the flames illuminating the metal. 'Yuki Hokama'.
Pulling back the handle, Hana takes a hold of it and slides it out of the sheathe. The once magnificent blade was encrusted with the dull, matte maroon of dried blood. She bowed her head, but kept her eyes on Yoshitsune.
The blade appeared genuine as Yoshitsune lifted it up to observe it. The warm light of the virtual fireplace flickered and flashed along the metal blade, tarnished and stained by whatever attack had been committed using it. It seemed curious that the blade was stained with blood. It was obvious what this implied about her fate, but there was some inescapable feeling that told him that the message was mistaken. Yuki Hokama, a young woman capable of mounting the offensive on Nagano and remaining alive as an exile for so many months... It did not seem believable that she would lay down and die so unceremoniously. No, Yoshitsune had not even met her yet or had an opportunity to bring her back into the Shogunate's bosom. Perhaps it was not out of compassion, but she was still far more useful to the Dragons alive. The lack of a body delivered meant that not even her personal weapon could be considered a sure sign of death. He used a small cloth on the table to wipe the blood off and sheathed the blade, letting it rest in front of him on the table.
"Legends do not perish so silently, Hana-san. The Hokama clan is not yet allowed to die. History still has plans in mind for them," he said, a spark of vitality in his eye as he uttered the word 'history.' He leaned forward, resting on the table with his hands. "But please do tell me your perspective on the context for this violent delivery and the circumstances leading to it."
"Do not add fuel to the fire that burns deeper when I consider Hokama-sama's death... smoke tends to be toxic, and I see few ways for it to clear this little room..." After a moment, Hana's expression turns to one of startled surprise as the words she had said sink in. "Sumimasen." She bows her head low, but keep her eyes on Yoshitsune nonetheless. "It seems you put too much faith in the threads of fate to lend favouritism to heroes. Old eyes see heroes come and go, same as the ordinary... heroism is only perspective." Hana stands back up, "Fate is a harsher mistress, and it will take from you when you least expect it.. and give to you just the same." Walking over to the worn katana, she studies it curiously as she speaks. "Just as you took this heroes life, I found Hokama-sama's taken by the hands of Libertonian pirates." She took a deep breathe, growing a shade paler but smiling slightly. "Their bodies lay next to hers, slain by the blade you hold."
Turning to face Yoshitsune, she leant against the wall. "You, as a Dragon, may not be comfortable with it... but she has already been cremated as befitting of her honour. She was as much a sister to me as anyone, and she deserved no less, Yoshitsune-san."
Yoshitsune continued to analyze every inch of the katana for any sort of imperfection. Barring the fact that it seemed suspicious that a girl as young as Yuki would posess her own katana, it seemed peculiar that the guard of the sword did not bear a design typical of the mass-produced varieties that came out of the smithies of Kyoto. The decorative dragons did not appear to face the same directions as their original counterparts. Instead of being turned inwards around the blade, they instead faced outwards for some indiscernible reason. If it were not for this small detail, the weapon would have seemed an identical copy of any Shogunate katana. Such a counterfeit had to be appreciated, but ultimately rejected.
"Ignoring the dubious nature of this weapon, there are... Several questions I have regarding the conditions of the supposed event," Yoshitsune declared, putting the blade down on the table. "Your presence at the site of such an event, the location in which it took place, the lack of any ashes to deliver to Kyoto Base, the state of those whom Yuki was taking shelter with... All very interesting holes that have yet to be filled by strong enough sealent."
He walked over to the pile of miscellaneous books in the corner of the room, searching among the tomes for one befitting the occasion. "Hana-san, you did not come here to deliver news of an unlikely death. If Yuki-san is truly dead as you say, it would be a grievous blow to the Shogunate for certain. She would have been a welcome re-addition to our ranks in our ultimate liberation of Kusari. But please, do dispense with the pleasantries and delivery of bloody blades to my study. Tell me what you really want," he said plainly, picking up a small book off the floor and walking back to the table. He kept the thought of her cardamine addiction in the back of his mind, waiting to see how much deprivation was affecting her.
Hana considers Yoshitsune's words carefully, eyeing him with a discerning gaze. "Very well, Yoshitsune-san." Pushing herself off the wall, she has grown slightly paler, her breathe elongating marginally. Walking over to the 'fire' she kneels and peers into it, imitating a moth to the flame. "I know what you are Yoshitsune-san, and I know what you are not. Your ploy is well conceived, and well executed, but it is not beyond being discernible." She turns her head to look at him with a stern yet neutral expression. "It matters not to me." Looking back into the fire, she places a knee on the floor. "What does matter to me is the spirit within you, and your competency. Will the strings of fate bind you, or will they unravel before you... words are one thing, a tool you wield with prowess, yet actions are a truer indicator." Pushing herself up from the fireplace, Hana takes the blade from the table and considers it in the same manner as Yoshitsune. "We will be there, watching, and it would be a shame if you were to disappoint."
Yoshi smiled internally at the suspicions of Hana. It always felt excellent to have another remark on his work, even if it was an ambiguous, possibly negative connotation. He leaned against the table, observing the woman as she shuffled around and went on about her yet-clouded purpose. He didn't quite expect the symptoms her cardamine deprivation to have such a quick surge in severity or, at the very least, be so noticeable.
"It's good to see someone wise enough to come forth with that insight, or at least, the initiative to say it. I plan to not become enveloped in that spider's thread, nor do I merely plan to toy with strings already in place. My hands shall create new threads with which to weave the loom of history. And I personally am interested in knowing who "we" are. Perhaps you are feeling well enough to inform me?," he remarked.