View source for Logs: Riverside Chat

Inaba - Samegawa Flood Plain 

Sometimes the quiet city isn't quiet enough. A long river runs through Inaba, and the flood plain is the path that goes right alongside it. There may not be much left in the way of undeveloped land surrounding this part of Japan, but the Samegawa Flood Plain shines brightly for those who want| to truly get away from it all. 

Aside from a long paved road, a couple of signs, and a gazebo, humanity's usual urban mark has not been imprinted too heavily. Many children walk along this path at one point or another to reach whatever school they may attend. Trees dot the roads and grass happily grows nearby, making the place scenic no matter what the season. The river bank has a small stone 'dock' in which to fish from. The river is teeming full of fish at all times of day.                                                                

It is said that when it rains, the mighty fish named the "Guardian of the Samegawa" awaits wary fishermen, larger than even those simply referred to as "huge fish." Nobody has ever caught it. Many are simply content with catching smaller, less scary fish for food, sport, or trade. 
 


Masumi will not deny that he hates Inaba and all of its backwater-ness, and that he can't stand most of the people there. So few of them have any imagination or vision, so few of them are willing to step out and break the shackles and mundanity that have kept them chained for so long. He wants out of this town as soon as he possibly can.

But there is something different about the Samegawa River. Perhaps it is the purity of the area, undisturbed by urbanization that isn't even properly urban, for Masumi finds himself attracted both to areas of quiet nature and to busy cities. Areas that are truly what they attempt to be, he reflects, instead of having pretension to one but failing entirely at being either.

A small blanket has been spread on the ground near the river itself, and the youth sits upon it. He is alone and does not seem to have brought books or food or any of the other items which people usually bring to such places; instead, Masumi seems entirely content to watch the flow of the river as it passes by. He finds it a relaxing activity that helps to clear his mind and put his thoughts into perspective, a process which was disturbed earlier in the day by a snoopy outsider.

For those that do not know him, it takes several moments to determine whether he is male or female. His features and waist-length silver hair are far too smooth and soft to belong to a guy, and his sensibilities, and choice of clothes and general aesthetic are definitely feminine. Even the aura about him is one of delicate gracefulness.


The weather's getting colder, slowly but surely. And by this point, it's getting hard to ignore the temperature. Thus, Blaise is not wearing his typical fingery - no, he's decked out in... a hoodie. A fairly drab gray hoodie and sweats. Why sweats? This may be more apparent the more he comes into view.

The American teen is jogging along the edge of the flood plain, kicking up tiny clumps of moist dirt behind him, hood drawn up against the chilly wind. From the looks of things, he's been at this for a while, bangs matted to his forehead with a light sheen of sweat.

When he spies Masumi settled as he... she?... is, he comes to a halt. Androgyny aside, he recognizes the person. "H-hey..," he says between labored breaths.


Masumi does not appear to be bothered by the cold. He would like to pretend that this is because he has mastered the ancient technique of Buddhist monks by which he can manipulate his body's ambient temperature at will, but the truth is simply that he's gotten reasonably decent at pretending not to be bothered when in fact he definitely is. It at least proves to be an excellent exercise in self control over physical impulses, which for a student of the occult, is something the last several days has proven he lacks in.

"Hello," he returns softly as he turns to face the runner. Oh yes, he recognizes him. He was in the small group of Souji's friends(?) at the icecream shop the other day, though they didn't have any opportunity to actually talk. Masumi has continued to turn the words of he and the girl over and over again in his mind, but still has failed to actually construct a reasonable image of what they were referencing. Frustrating.

"Do you come here often?" The question seems more designed to jumpstart a conversation of some sort than to be nosy. Masumi enjoys the company of others who do not immediately give off judgmental vibes, and is curious if he could learn anything from talking further to this guy in particular. It was such a strange exchange of words that day in the shop, something that surely carried deeper meanings of ill doings.


Oh snap, is this chick(?) hitting on him?

Juuuust kiddiiiing! :D

Blaise tucks his hands into the single central pouch at the front of his hoodie. "Not yet," he chirps with a grin. "Mostly because people say something's wrong with the river. Kind'a sucks." He turns to look out at the water briefly, then rotates back to the other person. His hands lift to brush back the hood from his head, allowing his hair to settle about in a mysteriously all-too-perfect manner. Sweat be damned. "Sorry things were a little weird last time. Name's Blaise. Blaise Cameron."


It is entirely possible that Masumi is very subtly hitting on any given male at any given time, perhaps without even completely realizing it. It is also entirely possible that he is not. Feeling like one is on the borderline between the genders can at times make for some confusing interactions with other people, for the typical social rules that govern such are not always entirely applicable. It is only Masumi's innate poise and confidence that make it seem like he always knows what he's doing.

(Hint: he doesn't).

"It is a pleasure, Blaise," Masumi replies in a soft tone that makes the sentiment come across as entirely genuine, rather than simple formality. "I am Masumi Hayashi." He does not appear to be especially surprised at the way Blaise's hair falls oh-so-perfectly into place, knowing many of the secrets of the Art of Superior Hair Care himself. It is not especially /easy/ to maintain near waist-length hair that has further been dyed a color which never in a million years occurs naturally.

"And it was probably my fault for stepping into someone else's conversation," he adds, gently redirecting the blame to himself.


"Ah, it's fine. You were just being sociable. The... climate, so to speak, was a little off," Blaise notes with a loose shrug. "So don't sweat it. But, uh.. what's your name again?" His head cocks to the side, feathery bangs wafting to the side gently.


An intuitive thinker, Masumi slowly tries to get a feel for both the conversation and for Blaise. Perhaps an opportunity will present itself to subtly bring up the exchange of words in the icecream shop the other day -- though even Masumi can't quite think of any method which would be more subtle than, say, a baseball bat over the head. But he has learned the value of watching and waiting. Opportunity is something which comes in time, but only to those whom are ready to take advantage of it.

"It was an...interesting conversation," he says with a small smile, but the words themselves at least let it be known that yes, he was actually listening despite appearances otherwise.

Ah, but it appears Blaise was too busy being hot and American -- wait what? -- and missed the extending of his name. It happens. "Masumi," he repeats, though there is a total lack of irritation or even just minor annoyance in his voice for having to do so. He is a fairly patient teen.


"Masumi," Blaise repeats with a nod. What a wonderfully ambiguous name. Yeesh. Not that it matters - he and Minagi are trying to have a go at being together. So even if this individual /was/ female, it would make little difference!

That said, he clears his throat a little sheepishly. It sucks not knowing what gender you're dealing with.

"It was probably more than you should'a heard," he sighs, shoulders lifting in another shrug. "Definitely nothing worth losing sleep over. Just.. issues between the girl and Souji."


It is usually reasonably obvious that Masumi is in fact a male once you get a good look at him from the front. His voice also identifies him as male, being a full, rich tenor that does not occur within the fairer sex even though it definitely is too graceful to be considered /masculine/. But yes, it is indeed a wonderfully ambiguous name.

"It seemed to run deeper than issues between two people," Masumi tries pressing. Slowly, of course, in order to approach the unknown point at which that pressing would elicit a negative reaction gently, as opposed to ramming up against it full force. Everyone reacts in such diverse manners, it pays to be careful.

At the same time, well, one should expect that talking about sensitive topics in public places is going to raise some questions, and this pressing of course does provide Blaise an opportunity to deny if he so desires in an attempt to allay the suspicions they raised that day. "It seemed more like issues with a...mafia, or something." There's an inquisitive tone to the otherwise statement that gives Blaise a little easier out for denial.


"And thaaat's why you shouldn't be so concerned with it. Besides, the Yakuza has nothin' to do with it." That's the Japanese mafia, right? Something like that? Yeah, it's not them. It's crazy people and sad times. But not the Yakuza.

Blaise lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I didn't mean 'ta disturb you from your, uh, river-watching, if I have."


Paydirt.

Masumi resists the temptation to smile outwardly or otherwise look intensely intrigued as his pressing reveals some interesting results. Of course the other boy denied it -- in a manner of speaking -- but even the way that someone denies something speaks volumes. And thinking on it, it really was more of an admission than a denial, telling him that's why he shouldn't be so concerned about it. The choice of the word 'besides' also has an interesting story to tell.

But that of course only raises another question: if it is a sort of mafia, but it is not the Yakuza, then who is it? Another mental note is made.

The subject is immediately dropped as it becomes clear that Blaise is intensely uncomfortable at this point, and Masumi is immediately contrite. "No, I am sorry. I should not have been prying into your affairs; sometimes my curiosity runs away from me," he apologizes with a dip of his head. It is a genuine attempt to move away from the uncomfortable territory and smooth over ruffled feathers.


"Hey, no, it's fine. It had to be really awkward for you anyway." Blaise moves a little to the side, letting the chat-partner see the water as he had been earlier. "So, how do you know Souji-san, anyway? You guys meet in school?" The tables have turned on the questioning! But Blaise's body language speaks of anything /but/ interrogation. His hands slip into the central pouch of his hoodie again, and he even rocks slightly on the heels of his feet.

Totally innocent~!


Alas, if Blaise is digging for information, there is not anything especially interesting to the story. "He had come into the shop I work at the day before, looking for costume pieces, and it turned out we went to the same school. We're really more passing acquaintances than friends," Masumi relates. He does not appear to be especially ruffled if Blaise is in fact being interrogating.

The silver-haired youth also moves over about this time to provide Blaise a place to sit that isn't the damp ground if he so desires. It is slightly awkward talking to someone that is standing when you are sitting.


It's true! This is partially why the awkwardness was setting in. So when the invitation is made to sit, he takes it, tucking his legs under himself politely. "You work at a shop here, eh? Family-run, or just an employee? What kind'a shop is it?"

Chatty Blaise is chatty. But at least he has a pleasant look about him, cheerful and upbeat.


Masumi can appreciate those that have a healthy cheer and upbeat attitude, which refuse to be trapped by the mundane cycles of daily living like so many of the other sheep. He usually finds conversation with such people to be wonderfully refreshing.

"It's actually in Okina City," he replies. "Moonstruck -- it's a New Age/Occult Shoppe, and I'm just an employee." Yes, he actually somehow manages to intone the / such that it really sounds like a /. "I'm not sure I would be able to work for my parents, honestly," he adds with a small laugh.


"Huh. Yanno, I never really bothered with those shops much, but Japan's kind'a intensive with it, isn't it?" Beat. Wait. This guy is Japanese. He wouldn't exactly have an occult barometer, now would he?

So on the surface level, it might seem like he completely derails the train of thought. But there's a method to Chatty Blaise. "You ever been outside of Japan?"


Masumi considers this for a moment. "Mm, I think one could likely say that all countries have both people that do and do not wish to look below the surface, with the latter far outnumbering the former. Most have little interest in finding the truth."

Which is perhaps a sort of dogmatic way to put it, except that Masumi doesn't believe that only those involved in the so-called New Age movement or the occult are those looking for and finding the truth -- and many of those that /are/ involved are entirely misguided.

But it is certainly one route to take, if one he believes from personal experience to be a somewhat better one, and the statement is one which certainly holds true in general.

A small shake of his head is given to Blaise's question, sending ripples down long, flowing silver hair. "I would like to someday travel the world," he relates. "Japan is merely a tiny fraction of what the world has to offer, the answers which it can provide. But -- I think I would settle first for at least moving outside of this backwards town."


The description of Inaba gets a lighthearted laugh. "I hear that. It'd drive me absolutely crazy, too. I've gotta have /some/ civilization around me, y'know?" Beat. "...But it seems Japan is more acceptable of mysticism than America. At least to some degree."

Seeking the truth? Ah, doesn't he know it..


Masumi gives a light shrug at the observation of Japan's acceptance over America. "I suppose I wouldn't know," he says, his eyes drawn back to the river again. This talk of other countries seems to be making him slightly wistful, trapped as he is in one of the tinier parts of an already-tiny country. It makes him so much more acutely aware of Inaba's mundanity.

"So what is America like?" he asks finally after a few moments of silence.


"Faster. Rougher. Less polite," Blaise notes. He follows Masumi's gaze out to the water with a small frown. "Warmer, generally, too. But mostly... less dress code to worry about. Less polite in general. But.. home's home. This isn't it." Stormy blue-gray eyes lower to his knees. "..Enh."


And thus the mood is officially ruined. A shiver can finally be seen from Masumi as the sun sinks lower in the west, and the cold air becomes increasingly so. "So what brings you to Japan?" he asks softly, trying not to pry but finding it the only natural question at this point. He continues to gaze out at the river.


"My family." His head turns to look at Masumi again. "My mother's a fashion designer. She wanted to try to expand her work to foreign soils, so... here we are. In Japan... a foreign country, bunch've Americans." He hesitates a moment, then pulls himself to his feet. "I guess I should get going soon..."


A sympathetic frown crosses Masumi's soft features at the explanation given. As much as he wants to see other countries, to learn from them, and even as much as he wants to live anywhere other than here in Inaba, he can't imagine being entirely uprooted on terms not his own to live in a place like America.

"Wait," he says, voice quiet but insistent as he raises one hand in a gesture for Blaise to stop for a moment. And then he gestures gently across the river, but at a different angle than they were looking previously. "Look." In the distance, the sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, casting brilliant reds and golds across the sky while seeming to set the river aflame.


Blaise pauses and follows the finger, turning to face the river. And there, lo and behold, is the sunset.

Blood red mixed with gold. Finery with brutality. How ironic.

Rather than please him, Blaise looks a little more morose. "...It's pretty," he remarks, though clearly a little forced for Masumi's sake. "..I've gotta get going. My mother'll worry if I don't check in." He turns again to the other teen and gives a weak smile. "So I'll catch ya later, Masumi-san. 'Kay?"


Masumi understands that his appreciation for certain works of beauty are not universally shared, but can't help but to make some sort of effort to point them out nonetheless. It's just who he is, and he's never compromised himself to fit in better with others. "Later, Blaise-san. It has been a pleasure meeting you." He offers a small wave, and then his gaze drifts out over to the sunset again.


Blaise bows his head in return, stylish bangs bouncing once with the movement. "Pleasure."

But after a beat, he turns to start sauntering back the way he came. Sauntering. No more jogging.