Sapphire Ambassadors

Jakuchou is in the temple offering prayers to the sun. It was a good time of day for it, though she didn't know if she preferred dawn or not. Regardless, she seemed to be both content and pleased with her devotions. She wasn't the most well versed in such things, but she knew enough to not dishonor the fortunes.

Bayushi Choudai was not a pious man- and in fact, insofar as he bothered with theology, it tended to take the form of assuming the Fortunes had it in for him on some level when he bothered to think of them at all.

But he still had something to give thanks for, and he couldn't tell anyone... well, not anyone who didn't already know.

The woman he loved was going to bear at least one child of his, even if the kid would never call him father, even if he and Hatsuki would never get to raise the baby together, it was... something.
It was hard to think about without pain, and equally hard to think about without joy.

And thus, he found himself at the shrine, trying to remember which fortunes went with which areas of concern.

He was a bit surprised to see someone else there, and nearly pulled a fade, but... no.

Which was probably the right choice, because the woman he saw was of the mindset that prayers were personal and private unless part of a public ceremony or specifically shared. So she wouldn't pry, but she was there and available for conversation if he should so choose.

For now, she offered him a bow as she made space for the newcomer. Her body language said she was open to talking when he was finished, but he was given the roo and privacy needed to pay his own respects.

Okay, crap, uhm...

Well Benten, given how thoroughly you've tangled us up, I guess... thanks?

And, uh... whichever of you look after pregnant women, please look after Hatsuki-chan for me, since I'll be... constrained. Probably for the rest of my life, damn it.

Most of Choudai's prayers were in that vein, and he barely remembered to clap when he was done. He glanced at the older woman, pieced together the mon with something in his memory, and ventured an introduction.

"Good day, Mirumoto-san. This one in Bayushi Choudai. Have you had rice today?"

"A pleasure Bayushi-sama. I am called Mirumoto Jakuchou," she says, the mask and mon and colors all reminding her of the coup. She used to hate them for it, but she had come to accept that they were trying to do what was best, they just messed up. But still, it had been years since she had been around so many. They were not a common sight in her monastery so the knee jerk distrust meant it was a pleasure rather than an honor. She scolded herself mentally for this.

"I'm honored to meet you. Are you here for the event like so many visitors, myself included?"

"Oh yes."

Choudai gave a half-smile.

"I expect I may be here to make others look better by comparison."

Which was meant as a joke.

"A bushi can hardly expect to shine among dedicated artisans, but... it would be remiss of me not to do my best, hm?"

"Well, we will have that in common then. I'm getting out of the monastery to try and find a way to serve now that my body isn't suited for war anymore. Don't know how well I will do, but I know how hard I will try," she confirms with an affirming nod.

"And which art will you be gracing us with, Mirumoto-san? Something formalized, or something a bit more experimental?"

"I like to dance. Some are simple and fun, others more complex and involved. I've learned a few that miko do as part of their worship and duties. But sometimes I just move how I feel," she replies with a shrug.

"What arts do you prefer to practice Bayushi-sama?"

"My chief artistic passion is cooking, as it happens."

He chuckled.

"Grandmother taught me, and I find it offers a means of expression that speaks to the heart. Occasionally by way of the stomach."

"Not an art I've had much opportunity to enjoy. Food at the monastery is a bit bland but filling. But I am curious to try to understand how one expresses themselves through food. I've heard stories," she says. "Do you have a signature dish? I hear that's a thing for chefs."

No, it's a thing for COOKS to be known only for a single dish! Why, if I were so limited as THAT, I would be little more than a glorified-

Calm, calm.

She doesn't know.

He maintained his composure with some difficulty.

"I find that the art is in the combination, although there is something to be said for excellence in the small things. Prepared properly, a simple bowl of rice can be a profound meditation upon Inari's blessings. But it is in combination with varied flavors that it truly shines. Some find the thick udon favored in the Crab lands unrefined, but with the proper accompaniment, they are the perfect choice. The seasonings favored by my Clan can be a bit intense for outsiders, but used in moderation, the piquant sting can add new dimensions to old favorites. So I suppose I would say I do not have a signature dish, so much as a signature approach."

He paused.

"I used to make soup for my uncle in the mornings back at the Painted City, though. That was... consistent."

"Consistent because of his tastes or for health reasons maybe?" she asked.

"And that is definitely the opposite of practicing the art of iaijutsu. That's just repetition until you are moving without thinking and faster than you can respond. Because if you cannot react quickly enough to stop your strike, it's harder for your opponent too. Very little creativity goes into the strike. But the footwork? That's all dancing and adjusting."

"Oh, no, I varied the recipes nearly daily, but the fact that it was almost always soup was about ease of portability and making something that would be ready in time for breakfast..."

At the talk of iaijutsu, he... nodded.

"There is a place for muscle memory in the kitchen, of course, but only for the most basic skills. And no meal that is meant to be art can afford to be made automatically."

"Most artistic thing I've eaten was a bowl of rice with sesame and green onion plus a sprinkle of soy sauce and sesame oil. They explained the whole process they followed including the type and specific preparation for the rice. I don't remember the details but it was the nicest bowl of rice I've had in 60 years. Thar was during a birth celebration for my nephew not long after the clan war. I imagine that the relatively minimalist lifestyle of most Dragon influenced his decision to prepare the greatest bowl of rice in the empire. I don't know if he ever accomplished it."

When she spoke of the man she did so with the same respect in her tone she would use for any master of a craft.

"Ah, there is much to admire in any staple dish done to perfection..."

Choudai's mind was racing with variables.

"And of course, boiling water in the mountains is a different affair from doing so in the plains."

Choudai had actually run experiments on altitude after finding discrepancies between recommended cooking times in some Phoenix and Dragon recipes he'd gotten his hands on as compared to Crane and Scorpion.

"And keeping seasoning to just the right level..."

He nodded.

"There is often art in simplicity."

She nods in agreement. "The fortunes create such beautiful, simple art every day in the natural world. I'm no scholar of such things, but when I look at a peony I can't help but feel the fortune that designed them had an artistic soul," the old Bushi replied with a smile.

"Such artistic souls that they created the tools and inspiration that gives life to mortal art."

With theology nowhere near being a strong suit of his, Choudai simply nodded.

"As you say... in addition to an appreciation for complexity, when executed properly..."

"Yes. While I may be focused on the basics of kenjutsu, the dance between bushi is always complex. Even if techniques are not. There is plenty to appreciate in a fight with an opponent. But it is also unpredictable with two minds. I much prefer appreciating what an individual can do."

"Hm... that begs the question, is art without an audience of some sort art?"