[ Muramasa continues to track Yuta's movements with singular focus instead of taking the opportunity to get a closer look at his offering, inscrutable as his power slowly settles over him like a mantle. He has no Authority as a god like this, with all of his presence carefully sharpened into the edge that allows the manifestation as a whole to slay other gods without needing magical energy. He can't even make sense of the things Muramasa sees when he looks at people, nor does he care to. To Susanoo, what matters now is that Yuta's ears are pink from the cold, and the shadows under his eyes are bruise-like. He can feel it keenly in the request to talk, misery is still there under the polite words and careful bows. ]
You know, you could have asked for me at home — no need to come all the way out to this dump in the cold.
[ When he steps forward, and extends his hand to grip Yuta's shoulder in acknowledgement, finally shifting that electric focus from Yuta to his offering... his hand is still warm. He's still Muramasa, even when he isn't. ]
[ Under such heavy focus, there's no hiding the genuine flicker of surprise that passes over Yuta's face upon hearing those words, eyes widening briefly before his whole expression turns sheepish and apologetic. He'd never thought of the simplest and perhaps most obvious solution, never even considered that to be an option. He'd simply assumed... ]
Oh. Sorry, I thought hallowed ground was necessary and I didn't think Muramasa-shishou would agree so easily...
[ He'd seemed plenty embarrassed after the Incident on the mountain after all. Between Yuta's doubt that Muramasa would want to let the Susanoo part take control of him willingly in the wake of that and all his previous experiences with Susanoo emerging happening around shrines, this seemed the best way to go about it.
Yuta can't dwell on his mistake too much when a warm hand is set upon his shoulder, instantly snaring his attention. It's practically on instinct that he leans into it ever so slightly, a subtle shift of his weight from one foot to the other closest to Muramasa, made easier to escape his own notice for the loss of electric scrutiny. His gaze can only flit down to the cups for a split-second before helplessly being pulled right back to Muramasa. ]
Mm. They made me think of you. [ The blue pattern like waves for a storm god while the white and the chrysanthemum bring a certain haori to mind. ] They said the sake is their finest too.
[ Hopefully worthy offerings to make up for their dilapidated surroundings. Except they apparently don't even need to be here, so: ]
When was the last time you asked the smith for anything, hm? He'd have caved, I bet. Man doesn't know how to do anything else besides what he's asked to.
[ And there's a laugh, boisterous and sunny in the overcast morning light; the hand lingering on Yuta's shoulder gives a tug, pulling him in close to be caught against Muramasa's side like he had on the mountain as the hand shifts, resting easily between Yuta's shoulderblades. The kind of casual gesture that Muramasa hasn't availed himself to in months, which is as easy and natural as the laugh. ]
Let's have a drink, first, and we can have our talk.
[ The smith wouldn't know what to do with good booze anyway, probably. Teetotal ass Buddhist bitch. ]
[ It's not meant as an accusation and it doesn't quite feel like one either, but.. it hits as something close to it anyway when what Yuta wants to ask of Muramasa is something he doesn't feel like he can. There isn't anything else he wants from him save for that one thing that is too big an ask to make. His feelings aren't sure what to do with the revelation that Muramasa would likely have caved if Yuta had just asked. Maybe it shouldn't be surprising given that Muramasa came all the way out here without even once questioning Yuta about it. With the importance his master places on jobs, that last statement certainly rings true.
But bright laughter and a warm hand chase away the clouds of rumination before they can linger. Unlike back on the mountain, Yuta's more prepared to be reeled in this time. In fact, he'd be lying if he said these casual touches weren't part of the reason he wanted to draw out Susanoo. So very selfishly, he wants to experience them one more time before he comes clean and potentially ruins any chance of receiving such easy affection from Muramasa ever again. So, without resisting or even tensing up, he lets himself be tucked against Muramasa's side, ready to be steered wherever by the hand between his shoulderblades. There's still a slight bloom of heat in his face, the frantic fluttering of nerves in his gut, and a quickening drumbeat of his heart to throw him off and reply without thinking though. ]
Alright.
[ It's only after that he realizes what he just agreed to and has to quickly amend: ]
Ah, but I'm technically not allowed to drink alcohol....
[ And after the last accidental experience he had, he really shouldn't. ]
[ Even though it is so simple in theory, Muramasa's dedication to his work is a complicated beast, one that he has more flexibility in than his single-minded devotion to it seems to allow. Work given to him by others is not-negotiable, but the execution has room for other options if he finds it distasteful, slipping through technicalities to keep him from straying too hard from himself. Work that he chooses for himself, he sets his own prices, and he chooses the lengths he can go in them. Through war, to the edge of the world, even to the heart of the planet and into the forge there. He'd told Yuta plenty of times that Yuta was his responsibility — and it would be his choice to do as Yuta asked of him.
Susanoo has no care for things like that, though. Instead he's focused on the time and power he's been afforded here on sacred ground, in a shrine housing his own spirit. The hand on Yuta's back gives a gentle push, but is firm in its intent; Muramasa wants to steer Yuta towards the inside of his hall. ]
Hah? If I say you can drink, you can drink. Whose shrine do you think this is?
[ There isn't much in the way of actual resistance, but the step Yuta takes when he gets pushed is hesitant, his (slightly fretful) uncertainty only increasing and plain in the way he glances between Muramasa and the direction of a hall he's likely not meant to set foot in even as he opens his mouth to retort. ]
That's— [ not how that works.
But who is Yuta to argue with the manifestation of a god? Trying to explain the legal drinking age to a being like that who is not going to care anyway is folly and he knows it. He doesn't want to be rude either. Not in general and especially not when he summoned Susanoo to talk to him. Staying on the tempestuous god's good side is key. Although the doubt lingers, the attempted protest is swiftly abandoned before it can be spoken aloud fully. ]
It's meant for you, but if you wish to share... Okay.
[ Alcohol is considered a low grade poison, so he can probably mitigate the effects with reverse cursed technique in order to avoid getting drunk like the last time he (accidentally) consumed some. He's better prepared for it this time and knows what to expect, too. That should help. Hopefully.
Resigning himself to this fate, Yuta dutifully gathers the sake bottle and cups again to bring with them and lets Muramasa steer him wherever he pleases. ]
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no subject
You know, you could have asked for me at home — no need to come all the way out to this dump in the cold.
[ When he steps forward, and extends his hand to grip Yuta's shoulder in acknowledgement, finally shifting that electric focus from Yuta to his offering... his hand is still warm. He's still Muramasa, even when he isn't. ]
They're pretty.
no subject
Oh. Sorry, I thought hallowed ground was necessary and I didn't think Muramasa-shishou would agree so easily...
[ He'd seemed plenty embarrassed after the Incident on the mountain after all. Between Yuta's doubt that Muramasa would want to let the Susanoo part take control of him willingly in the wake of that and all his previous experiences with Susanoo emerging happening around shrines, this seemed the best way to go about it.
Yuta can't dwell on his mistake too much when a warm hand is set upon his shoulder, instantly snaring his attention. It's practically on instinct that he leans into it ever so slightly, a subtle shift of his weight from one foot to the other closest to Muramasa, made easier to escape his own notice for the loss of electric scrutiny. His gaze can only flit down to the cups for a split-second before helplessly being pulled right back to Muramasa. ]
Mm. They made me think of you. [ The blue pattern like waves for a storm god while the white and the chrysanthemum bring a certain haori to mind. ] They said the sake is their finest too.
[ Hopefully worthy offerings to make up for their dilapidated surroundings. Except they apparently don't even need to be here, so: ]
Um, should we go back?
no subject
[ And there's a laugh, boisterous and sunny in the overcast morning light; the hand lingering on Yuta's shoulder gives a tug, pulling him in close to be caught against Muramasa's side like he had on the mountain as the hand shifts, resting easily between Yuta's shoulderblades. The kind of casual gesture that Muramasa hasn't availed himself to in months, which is as easy and natural as the laugh. ]
Let's have a drink, first, and we can have our talk.
[ The smith wouldn't know what to do with good booze anyway, probably. Teetotal ass Buddhist bitch. ]
no subject
But bright laughter and a warm hand chase away the clouds of rumination before they can linger. Unlike back on the mountain, Yuta's more prepared to be reeled in this time. In fact, he'd be lying if he said these casual touches weren't part of the reason he wanted to draw out Susanoo. So very selfishly, he wants to experience them one more time before he comes clean and potentially ruins any chance of receiving such easy affection from Muramasa ever again. So, without resisting or even tensing up, he lets himself be tucked against Muramasa's side, ready to be steered wherever by the hand between his shoulderblades. There's still a slight bloom of heat in his face, the frantic fluttering of nerves in his gut, and a quickening drumbeat of his heart to throw him off and reply without thinking though. ]
Alright.
[ It's only after that he realizes what he just agreed to and has to quickly amend: ]
Ah, but I'm technically not allowed to drink alcohol....
[ And after the last accidental experience he had, he really shouldn't. ]
no subject
Susanoo has no care for things like that, though. Instead he's focused on the time and power he's been afforded here on sacred ground, in a shrine housing his own spirit. The hand on Yuta's back gives a gentle push, but is firm in its intent; Muramasa wants to steer Yuta towards the inside of his hall. ]
Hah? If I say you can drink, you can drink. Whose shrine do you think this is?
no subject
That's— [ not how that works.
But who is Yuta to argue with the manifestation of a god? Trying to explain the legal drinking age to a being like that who is not going to care anyway is folly and he knows it. He doesn't want to be rude either. Not in general and especially not when he summoned Susanoo to talk to him. Staying on the tempestuous god's good side is key. Although the doubt lingers, the attempted protest is swiftly abandoned before it can be spoken aloud fully. ]
It's meant for you, but if you wish to share... Okay.
[ Alcohol is considered a low grade poison, so he can probably mitigate the effects with reverse cursed technique in order to avoid getting drunk like the last time he (accidentally) consumed some. He's better prepared for it this time and knows what to expect, too. That should help. Hopefully.
Resigning himself to this fate, Yuta dutifully gathers the sake bottle and cups again to bring with them and lets Muramasa steer him wherever he pleases. ]