The Princess and the Assassin
WHO: Assassin, Orihime Inoue
WHEN: September 11th, Twilight
WHERE: Karakura Town
WHAT: Orihime decides to revisit the park, and chances upon a heavily-wounded samurai. She helps him to recover, and finds out a very interesting bit of information about the Servant's true identity.
Orihime's always a little sad when summer ends. She likes the sunshine, and the promises of warmth whether it's night or day. But on the other hand, she likes autumn too, with all of the beautiful color changes in the leaves overhead. The true turning from green to gold hasn't truly taken place, but here and there are a few dried and dropped leaves skittering across the sidewalk. There's also frost on the grass once more in the mornings, and a certain nip in the air during the evenings. It's on such a night that Orihime felt the need to get some fresh air, and get her mind off of the current problems plaguing Karakura. This is her home. And walking quietly with her hands shoved into the pockets of her green corduroy jacket, she's reminded strongly of all the reasons why she wants to protect it.
Her ankle-high boots come to a pause near the entrance to the park, the playground abandoned with the setting of the sun. It's quiet there now, and just looking at it brings back so many memories of when she was a little girl, playing with her big brother. Orihime smiles. Well...why not? It's been a while! She changes course, walking along the winding path until she reaches the swingset. She looks up. ~It's smaller than I remember~~ the girl thinks to herself. That's what happens when you grow taller, she supposes. Nonetheless, still grinning, she stretches out a hand to lightly grasp one of the chains, turning to seat herself on the band of plastic and rock herself slowly, back and forth.
The end of summer heralds the lengthening of days, a growing cold and darkness that promises frost in the mornings and deep chills after midnight. Autumn strips tree branches eerily bare and sweeps the fallen leaves into piled-up, rustling drifts; it thins the barrier between the real and the spiritual, the mundane and the fey. September is a preparatory month, one that hangs up all the eerie dressings for October: that month when the supernatural soaks the air and ghosts peek through the curtains of reality.
One such ghost of the past lurks in the park this night: a shred of the supernatural, come out of hiding. In a copse of trees not far from the playground, the clatter of steel murmurs through the silence. A blood-filled cough, barely audible from this distance, follows, and a shadow is visible briefly among the trunks: moving unsteadily, as if wounded.
It's more what Orihime feels, before she sees or hears anything out of the ordinary. The creak of the swing's chain halts as she drags her heels into the barkdust, her head turned in the direction of the trees. There's a very familiar spiritual presence there. Familiar in the way of...construction? make-up?...rather than identity, however, because she's certain she's never felt this individual close to her before. The cough arouses her alarm. Whoever it is, they sound like they're injured!
The swing twists and rocks as Orihime abandons her childhood pasttime, quickening her steps as she moves forward. "Hello? Is somebody there? If you're hurt, I'll help you get to the hospital!" And do a little healing along the way, but they don't need to know that. Hee hee!
There is no answer at first, but the motions halt: their owner choosing to stop and slump down against a tree rather than attempt to escape Orihime's curiosity. As she draws closer, details become visible. A long fall of hair, drawn back in a ponytail and tangled with blood. Haori and hakama not unlike those a shinigami captain would wear, if different in color and style. The long sword he carries. The wound that does its best to bisect his torso.
"I would not advise you look at me," the entity-- is he a shinigami? a foreigner?-- finally replies: his voice surprisingly cultured, if thick with blood: the cadence of it educated and polite. "The sight is rather unpleasant." A distinct wryness and a gentled, sardonic amusement print itself in Assassin's syllables, even when he is so heavily wounded.
Orihime gasps. TOO WATE! Her dark eyes widen, filled with compassion. Poor man! "What happened to you...?!" she whispers tremulously. It's not a question she expects to be answered, and immediately, four of the petals break away from her barettes with a flash and a spark of light. Two small spirits, Shun'ou and Ayame, form a dome of light around the foreign man. He might be confused as to why his wounds are suddenly closing, but Orihime doesn't think he'll be able to see them. If he's mortal. Then again, he closely resembles the soul reapers of her world... "Are you...a shinigami?" she ventures, blinking up at him.
She releases her power before he has time to reply, and the sudden spike in spiritual energy-- as well as the flash of light-- startle him into silence. A spirit himself, he has litle difficulty in seeing the healing energy that knits his wounds: and from the way his gaze tracks it, Orihime might be able to guess at his ability to do so.
"These worlds are rife with dangerous things," he replies as she works: finally answering her question. "Even Servants are sometimes caught off guard." And it's really a wonder he's even lived -this- long, given his penchant for -looking- for challenges. Servant Class Assassin: a thrillseeker to the end.
When she asks if he is a shinigami, he looks momentarily blank-- answer enough to her question-- and then shakes his head. "But I am indebted to you for healing me. A remarkable ability," he notes: observing how cleanly the wounds heal. Despite that, he still looks a bit enervated: the result of too much mana expenditure, too fast.
Orihime smiles, and perks at the mention of 'Servant.' Oh YEAH! That's where she's felt this particular kind of reiatsu before. From Lancer, and Archer! She maintains the shield, more than a little surprised at the speed of the man's recovery. Either it's because his spiritual composition responds very positively to her powers, or she's been getting a lot better with her training. She's not sure which, but she's vastly relieved to see that it's working. Even the tears in his clothing begin to mend. Strange, that...
"Anou...you must have run into a Hollow. Was it a big creature with a white mask, and a hole in its chest?" she asks, relaxing a little once she notes the movements of Shun'ou and Ayame. Oh good. Less chance of him freaking out, then, since he's not entirely unfamiliar with the paranormal. "It's very nice to meet another Servant," Orihime smiles, focusing her attentions on the biggest wound in his side. "I'm Orihime Inoue. I've already met Lancer-sama and Archer-san." Guess which one she's grown to adore and respect more than the other?
Of course you like Lancer more than Archer. Lancer has some redeeming qualities! Archer is just a bastard.
"This happened in a different plane," he explains when asked, as the shield does its healing work. No, this is one thing we cannot blame on the Hollows, we are afraid. "But I came here through the Gates because of the high concentration of spiritual energy. Such a surrounding would replenish mana more quickly."
Surprise claims his features as she tells him she's met the other two Servants: and moreover, that they apparently told her that they -were- Servants. He was always one of the least concerned about secrecy, of all the (non-insane) Servants-- ironic, given his Class name-- but even he is having difficulty adjusting to the changes that the loss of their Masters has wrought. Without those Masters, without the covert war, there is less need to be so secretive: and now, it seems even strangers know what it is to be a 'Servant.'
"Servant Class Assassin," is his reply to her introduction, a polite inclination of the head accompanying the words. "Or if you prefer, Sasaki Kojiro." A name that might actually ring a bell with Orihime, depending on how much she knows of legendary Japanese swordsmen. "So you have met the others. Do you know of their whereabouts now?" Not that he particularly -needs- to track them down... but still, people like to keep tabs on that which is familiar.
"Oh, you're low on mana too? I can help with that," Orihime smiles, her eyes flicking from Assassin's wound to his face, then back again. "You must have been fighting many battles. That's how your mana gets depleted, right? As soon as your wounds are healed, then..." She trails off, focusing on the situation at hand once more.
At least, that's what she intended until he reveals his name. Being Japanese herself, she recognizes the famous swordsman of the Edo period right away. "R-really?! But...you look so different...I thought you'd be..." Fat and short, like all pictures depicting that particular era. But she doesn't DARE say such a thing, it'd be so rude! So instead, she bows over at the waist, as low as she can go. "I-I'm honored, Kojiro-sama! REALLY honored!" WOW! Wait until the others find out! And he's so free with his name, too. Lancer nearly flipped when he accidentally revealed his identity. And he hadn't even said what his real name was, either! As for his question? She doesn't answer. She probably forgot, swept up in her excitement to meet a real legend from her own country's history.
Assassin has, it seems, hit the jackpot. A girl who not only can heal wounds, but replenish mana like a Master? That's all a Servant could ask for, in these unpredictable and dangerous worlds. Surprised at how easily and casually she speaks of her ability to solve his mana difficulties, he reflects wryly that he's probably hit on the reason both of the other Servants interact with this girl. "It is: and I would be further indebted should you aid with that as well."
He's only momentarily surprised at how readily she recognizes the name: a name he is free with in part because he does not care about the secrecy to which a Servant would normally cling. He'd been coherent enough to notice that Karakura was obviously a Japanese town, and the legend from which he takes his name is of Japanese origin; it made sense that she would recognize it. But for a moment, his gaze is almost troubled as he watches her profess her excitement. He is not fully Sasaki Kojiro, not in the way Lancer -is- Cuchulainn: he is simply based heavily off that legend, with countless other samurai legends quilted into the mix. After many tellings, stories and archetypes gain their own sort of power.
"That is the name I take," he eventually tells her, voice quiet as he reaches forward to draw her out of her bow, "and he is the legend I most represent. Were you told of what Servants are, Miss Inoue?"
"Anou...a little bit!" Orihime answers. This just completely made her day. She's been troubled ever since Captain Yamamoto told them the news about Aizen, and that trouble was relived when she made her report to the IPA. She wasn't counting on meeting a man revered as legendary, nor was she counting on him being so...nice! "I know there's a war over a Grail, and that it's twisted a bit because people can wish for selfish things, and I know that most people aren't able to see you guys, and that you need mana to remain on this plane of existence. Just the rough basics, really," Orihime smiles, rubbing at her cheek. Wow. WOW! She still can't get over this.
Seeing that his wounds have closed, at least visibly, she decides to make sure he's whole again before pumping him with spirit power. "So...do you feel okay now? I can keep healing, if you have any pains or bruises remaining, Assassin-sa...ah...c-could I call you...could I call you Kojiro-sama?" Orihime's smile turns shy.
He leans back again, a flicker of a smirk crossing his face at her reply. She's really been given the rundown, hasn't she. The expression is short-lived, however: letting her think something not entirely true seems too dishonest for his taste, and that troubles him more than the reality of his nature. He was never a particularly secretive sort, nor a sort inclined to mislead. "Sasaki Kojiro is a legend," he tells her eventually. "What you have heard of him is a myth; and so that, in turn, is all I am. A well-remembered myth given form to fight in that War. Some Servants are like that."
Some of these eirei, like Lancer, truly lived and died. Others-- like the one before her now-- are mere stories: stories that gained such power and remembrance in the minds of men that they merited an incarnation within the Throne.
But in all respects he really is Sasaki Kojiro-- except for the one minor problem of such a man never having existed-- and so he does not attempt to argue all that hard. He bears the memories, he bears the sword, he bears the skill: is it a stretch to say he is the man whose name he has claimed? "Knowing that, it is a matter of your own preference what you call me." He is quiet then, letting her work, until questioned: at which point he replies, "None remain. Your healing is thorough."
Orihime Inoue looks relieved, and exhales. "Oh good. I was worried," she laughs, and drops her hand from her cheek. "Even if you're a myth, Kojiro-sama, you're here before me right now, real as real can be!" She smiles, playfully brushing her fingers against a lock of hair that hangs by his right cheek. "See? I can hear you, feel you, see you...that's real enough for me. And it's still an honor. After all, I've met Superman and Darth Vader, too. They were just people from comic books and movies, but out here...wow, anything can happen, and you can end up meeting anyone! So don't feel bad, okay?" she beams. Even if she doesn't really know if he's sad or not, the expression on his face made her think that he needed a little confidence and cheering up.
"All right, let's fix up the rest of you," she swings her arms to loosen them up...even if it really isn't necessary, it makes her feel a little more prepared. She holds up her palms, dark eyes flickering up to Assassin's face. Offering a reassuring smile, she gently rests her hands on his chest and begins to transfer some of her spirit power. "I don't know when you'll be full, so let me know when to stop, Kojiro-sama."
Assassin bears little regrets or sadnesses about his nature. It is enough for him that he incarnate into a reasonably exciting world; as long as that happens, he does not care what his origin might be. But nonetheless, it interests him how warm this girl is, and how readily she finds words of reassurance. It's quite the contrast from Caster, who treated him as a golem and a thing.
"As you say," he replies, amused at her reasoning. "Nonetheless I felt it necessary to address, given your reaction; I dislike the prospect of potentially misleading another." He has too much honor for that. He won't even perform the sneak attacks that should be a hallmark of his Servant type. Such things lack class.
That said, he stills to let her transfer her spiritual power: rather curious as to how it would feel, as he has never received energy from a source that was not mana. But if she has done this for Lancer already, she might note that Assassin touches her hand and tells her she may stop quite a bit sooner than Lancer; Assassin has the most limited mana pool of the Servants. "I am indebted to you for your aid," he reiterates, as she finishes up. "If there is any manner in which I may repay you, name it."
Orihime Inoue blinks, her breath catching a little in her throat as she's halted. Done so soon? Awww, that's sweet of him. She figures he's probably like Simon Parker or Matt Conway in that regard, not wanting any more than absolutely necessary. But rather than call him on it, and risk insulting his honor and pride, Orihime simply bows her head and takes a step back with her hands clasped in front of her. "I was happy to do it! Getting to meet you really means a lot to me," she beams.
For a moment she considers just waving it off, saying that it was nothing. But then she remembers how insulted Ling had appeared when she first told him something along those lines, and how adamant Lancer had been about making sure he repaid her for the same thing. "Well...there is /one/ thing..." she says after a moment, looking away. Then her gaze swivels back to Assassin, and she smiles. "Would you please come have tea with me?" She clutches her hands beneath her chin, looking up at him imploringly.
Once she has stepped back, Assassin shifts slightly, as if testing his limbs; after that, he rises to his feet, his motions gradually becoming smooth once more as he adjusts to the sudden healing. Straightening his clothes, pushing his hair back over his shoulder, he pulls a soft cloth out to studiously clean the blade of his nodachi. It's not entirely a necessary thing-- the weapon is mana, not steel, and will not be damaged by leaving blood on it as once it might have been-- but force of habit and common propriety drive him to do it nonetheless.
He watches her as he does this, his gaze remaining politely on hers as she considers his words. But whatever he had been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. His motions pause briefly, a brow rising in mild surprise; but the expression is evanescent. A smile replaces it: amused, if somewhat uncomprehending. He's never quite encountered a personality like this before. "Is that all you would ask?"
Orihime Inoue nods. "That's it!" she promises, rising onto the balls of her feet. "I guess I could show you the flyers for the Relief Society, but it involves a lot of charity work and things like that. I guess I'm not really too comfortable yet with the idea of having someone indebted to me, Kojiro-sama. Especially someone like you!" she laughs. "It doesn't sit right. But we can be friends, couldn't we? I'd /really/ like that." She takes two steps back and begins to turn, grinning over her shoulder at him. "My apartment isn't too far from here. You're probably tired, too, right? I have a futon you can borrow, and lots of spare blankets."
Assassin looks blank as she mentions the Relief Society. He's never heard of it, and the word 'charity' does not immediately ring a bell for him-- as well as seeming somewhat at odds with his nature-- but if Lancer could do it... there's no telling whether Assassin might as well. You never can tell what a freed Servant will do with his autonomy.
"I sense you will become used to the concept, with time," he replies wryly. "You give quite freely. Though in turn, I am not accustomed to the concept of receiving without giving back in some equal measure." But it seems he considers friendship a 'start'; for as she turns away, he makes to follow, sheathing his weapon and falling into a state of insubstantiation so that awkward questions of why Orihime is taking a bloodied Servant home do not arise. "Are you capable of perceiving us while we are insubstantial?" he asks; he assumes that she can, but it costs nothing to be certain.
And now she offers lodging? Her hospitality, it seems, knows no bounds. He is quiet a moment, before replying, "Yes. It would be wise to take time for recovery. But while I impose upon you, your apartment will have my protection." Summoned for the purposes of guardianship, it is a familiar role to fall back into.
Orihime Inoue looks back over her shoulder again, nodding once as she smiles. "Mm hm! I can! It's because I can see ghosts and spirits...things like that. Don't worry, though," she turns to face forward again. "Not many people here can do it. Just Uryuu-kun, Sado-kun, Tatsuki-chan, and Kurosaki-kun. People that come through the gates might be able to, and the shinigami could as well, but like I said, it's pretty rare," she shrugs. Normally she wouldn't tell this to just anyone, but Assassin is special. The fact that he IS a spirit helps tremendously in allowing her to feel comfortable confessing her abilities to him. Besides...he's so honest. Orihime can't help but feel compelled to honor him with the same truthfulness he's shown her.
"Ah! Would you really?" Orihime perks up at his offer. "I'd love that! Don't worry, you're not imposing at all, but the extra protection would be really helpful!" She certainly has a fair share of enemies to worry about. "I don't think anything bad will happen, but if it does, it's nice to know that you'll be there. I think I can rest easy tonight," she laughs. "Thank you very much, Kojiro-sama."
Assassin is honest and forthright firstly because of his honor-- one similar, in fact, to the bushido code which the samurai he is based off of cleave to-- and secondly, because he is not the sort to care overmuch for secrecy. Of all the Servants, he was always the most free with his name (it wasn't truly his, not -really-) and the most free with his intentions. They were always simple, after all; and he had nothing to lose by letting things slide. It made things all the more interesting.
But having hit upon something that she appears to need, Assassin's vague disquiet at not being able to sufficiently repay her is somewhat alleviated. "Then I shall offer my guardianship in recompense. So you are frequently imperiled, here? This world is a dangerous one?" Are there powerful entities to face in mortal combat?! Assassin would be all over that.
"Ah...well..." Orihime's smile turns sheepish. If Assassin had asked Tatsuki or Ling, he would have received a reply of a resounding 'YES!!!!' But Orihime likes to think that she can take pretty good care of herself, even if she is a little 'damaged' without Tsubaki. "It can be. I guess I should be honest...there are souls called Hollows here that try to eat other souls. Especially ones with lots of power. You should be safe enough," since his power output doesn't rival Ichigo's (no one does!), "but just the same, it's best to be cautious. I don't think you'd have any problems fighting one, though, if you found one. They look like monsters, with a hole in their chest and a white mask on their face." She's not going to tell him she's frequently imperiled. She isn't! She just happens to...sometimes...a lot...stumble into certain people or situations that don't usually work in her favor... Okay, fine, it happens. But it's just embarrassing to admit!
Assassin looks rather closely at her as her expression goes sheepish and she starts demurring. He's interacted with people enough by now to know that this sort of behavior indicates a truth that does not wish to be admitted.
Her description of Hollows, to him, calls to mind a particularly malignant Servant preying on human souls to sustain its own life. It's a close enough comparison to be workable. Though oddly, Orihime might note that his interest actually increases at talk of dangerous or powerful entities. It's as if he's looking for a challenge. "I see. So these 'Hollows' would target you for your abilities."
It sounds dangerous enough to him, and he doesn't even know about Aizen yet.
"My abilities?" Orihime blinks. "Well...probably not those so much as my soul, but mine's really not much compared to the others," she admits, smiling up at Assassin. She slows her pace, dropping back so she can walk beside him. There, that's better! Of course, if she knew of Aizen's interest in her abilities, then the others would be FAR more protective of the girl, and Orihime would be more than a little terrified. "The only person who seems to really not like me is Shadow." She quiets a bit, her smile fading. "I almost forgot...actually... He hasn't done anything in quite some time. But he used to go after the people I cared about, just because he wanted to get to me. I'm not really sure why," she looks up at Assassin. "I feel a little sorry for him. He said something happened to him when he was younger. I don't know what it was, but it seems to make him think people are really bad." Orihime pauses, then blinks as she straightens. "Ahhh, why am I telling you all of this? You didn't ask for that kind of information!" she laughs, rubbing the back of her head.
It's just that he's so easy to open up to. He's gentle, calm, and polite. He also seems earnestly concerned about her welfare. Or, well, concerned about fighting the things that are a threat to her welfare. Either way, she instantly likes him. It shows in her smile. "You like fighting the bad guys a lot, don't you Kojiro-sama?"
"Having seen the scope of your healing, I would beg to differ; but then, I do not know who it is you compare yourself to." Though if Assassin saw Ichigo, he might well become another Kenpachi and end up avidly seeking a duel from the boy. The fastest of all the Servant classes, pitted against a shinigami whose bankai kicks his speed up to inhuman levels... it would be interesting, to say the least.
He is... calm, yes, and polite: with mannerisms so refined his motions seem perpetually gentled, even when they are combative. And also, he is playful in a way: curious and inquiring. There is a culture to him that speaks to countless samurai legends of grace and honor. He listens in silence as she speaks, never interrupting: when she finishes, he inclines his head briefly in thought. "I did not ask; but it hurt nothing for you to speak of it," he eventually replies, choosing his words with an almost uncertain deliberation. He may possess the personality of an archetypical samurai, but in many ways he is also a blank slate of a spirit only recently given life. Certain types of interaction are still a bit awkward to him.
But the topic of fighting is a far easier one. He warms to it with an air of familiarity; this is what he was generated to do. "I enjoy pitting myself against challenges. Combat is what we Servants are for; it is validating to match blades against worthwhile opponents. In life I was not given the opportunity to truly test my abilities against opponents capable of receiving them; but here, it seems there shall be no shortage of that."
Orihime Inoue nods slowly. She's heard the legend of how he was defeated in combat. And it was a cheap and dirty trick! Stupid Musashi. "Well, if you have the legend of a samurai, that's perfectly understandable!" she beams. "I think you would like Captain Zaraki. He /loves/ to fight. He's actually a little scary, because he's so good! We're also planning to have a martial arts tournament, once we can get the clearance for the location. Maybe you could sign up and participate, Kojiro-sama!" she beams at him.
It was. And that's not to mention the rudeness of Musashi's conduct in general: arriving hours late, dressing inappropriately, and then using such an unconventional weapon. Though some say that the reason he chose to carve a sword from the oar was in order to exceed the reach of Sasaki's own Monohoshi Zao. It certainly worked, if that were the intention.
The name is noted-- another who enjoys dueling? It sounds as if that is what she means-- and he glances over at her as she speaks of a martial arts tournament. "Perhaps," he replies, with some interest: though he would certainly be checking the strength of the opposition before he commits. If there is not a sufficient level of challenge, callous as it is to say, he would not be quite as engaged.
Orihime Inoue smiles. "You don't have to decide right away. Think it over! I'd cheer for you, though, if you think you'd like to compete. The prize probably won't be very big, but it's still a good chance to meet new people." And beat them up. But somehow, that doesn't really sound right out loud, so she doesn't say it.
After several blocks, Orihime finally turns down a short path leading to the stairs of her apartment complex. She ascends first to unlock the door and flip on the lights, revealing a small and cozy sort of flat. "There's the futon," she points at the black couch situated in front of the television. "The bathroom is down the hall..." Although she's not really SURE if Servants have to pee. If Lancer drinks whiskey, though, it's got to go somewhere. Better to assume that they do, just in case. "The towels are in the closet if you want to shower! Go ahead and rest, I'll go make some tea," she grins, unable to resist bowing a little before she slips off her shoes, hangs up her jacket, and trots into the kitchen.
Her words meet an amiable sort of quiet acquiescence, as he follows her up into her apartment. As she opens the door, he glances over the place: quickly discerning that she must occupy it alone. While he is not familiar with the conventions of this plane, some things tend to hold true across most Japanese cultures: people of Orihime's age don't generally live by themselves.
"You live alone? You seem young, for that..." He should have guessed, really, given how free she was about inviting him back. While he talks, he's also ferreting into her closet for towels: though not before waiting politely for her to make herself at home and extend her permissions for him to do so.
"I didn't always," Orihime chuckles from the kitchen, filling a clean pot with fresh water from the tap. "My older brother took care of me, until I was twelve. Then he passed away." She pauses, then glances back over her shoulder. "His portrait is to your left, on the dresser. He's handsome, isn't he?" Her smile is warm, but her eyes are a little sad. Of course she misses him. But it makes her happy to share his memory with others.
Reaching into the upper shelves, Orihime pulls down a pair of teacups and sets them on a tray. "But recently, I got a lot of roommates! Rangiku-san and Captain Hitsugaya from Soul Society came to stay with me, while investigating some business. But Rangiku-san went back, and...well, Captain Hitsugaya seems to like sleeping on the roof, so I don't see him much," she laughs. "But Ling-san stays with me a great deal. He probably stepped out to get some training, or to follow a lead. He's not from this world, but we met and became good friends, got engaged, and fell in love," she beams. ...Something about the order of events doesn't seem quite right, does it...? "You'll probably get to meet him soon, if you like. He's really wonderful!" Gush...gush...
He looks at her from around the open door of the closet as she tells him of her brother. I see, he says quietly, and is silent until she changes the topic again: unsure, again, of how to conduct himself in these less familiar situations. For all his grace and politeness, there are still things in which he is surprisingly unversed: a mark of the holes in his imperfect construction. He began life as an improper Servant, after all: a mere myth.
He is unfamiliar with all the specifics of this world that she refers to, but does not ask at the moment. To her mention of Ling, he replies, "I expect our paths will cross," as he collects a towel and makes for the shower. Even if he does not currently have actual plans to reside with Orihime-- there is no real Master-Servant relationship here, after all-- thus far he intends to, at the least, stop by frequently to ensure things are all right. And if this Ling also stays with Orihime frequently, they are bound to meet at some point.
Orihime Inoue chuckles to herself, dipping a scoop into the tea leaves and emptying them into the kettle. "Probably! Ling-san gets around, he travels a lot. And he has such a big smile, I'm sure you'll like him...hm?" She turns her head as Assassin walks past, towel in arms, heading for the bathroom. Whatwhatwhat? A shower right now? ...It makes sense. He must feel awfully dirty after that battle, with dirt and dried blood on his skin and clothes. "Oh! Kojiro-sama, just a second!" She abandons the stove, heading for a chest in the living room over which an orange vest is draped. Gosh, she sure hopes Ling doesn't mind if she borrows some of his clothes for a stranger. But...why would he? He'd surely welcome the assistance of another servant, especially one as likeable and polite as Assassin. She withdraws a pair of loose black pants, and rifles a bit more to find a long Chinese top, the hem of the shirt falling nearly to the knees and fastened with wooden pegs etched in ivory and silver. Wow, fancy stuff! It ought to suit Assassin well, then.
The girl stands, clothes neatly clasped in her arms, and she dashes after the Servant to catch him before he can close the bathroom door. "Here. So you have something clean to change into," Orihime smiles, offering the bundle.
Just a quick one, while she's making the tea and getting things ready! He's fast about these things, despite the sheer volume of hair he has. Don't ask how he gets through it all so rapidly. Besides, he doesn't want to sit anywhere in bloody clothes and risk setting stains into the furniture.
When hailed, he pauses briefly in the bathroom door: before a brief expression of 'oh, right,' crosses his face once she emerges with a change of clothes. Don't worry overmuch; Assassin will treat the clothes well. ...unless he were distracted by some monster flying by the window: in which case he'd likely fly out to do mortal combat with it and end up ruining them by accident. But what are the odds of that?
Thusly armed, he nods his thanks and disappears into the bathroom. There is a rather lengthy period of silence, in which he is presumably puzzling over how exactly to -work- the shower-- turning, pulling, and pushing in various combinations until -something- happens-- before he finally gets the water running.
Orihime Inoue was wondering if she'd have to knock and offer more assistance...but when she hears the groan of the pipes, she knows he's got it figured out. Good, she's glad! It must be hard for him, getting used to this new technological era. ~Don't worry, Kojiro-sama. I promise to take good care of you, whenever you need it!~ she promises, glacing back at the bathroom door with a small smile. And then she's off to finish making that tea.
It takes him about ten minutes to finish up-- a credit to a personality based in an era where lengthy soaks were the predominant method of bathing-- and when he reemerges, a few minutes after that, he is neatly dressed with his bloodied clothes folded away precisely. He has not bothered to tie his blue-black hair up, leaving it loose so it can dry faster, and it falls straight and rustling to his knees. Mercifully, he has toweled it so thoroughly that it does not drip on the ground; a good thing, given the sheer volume of it. Had he left any water in it, he'd have thoroughly soaked the floor by now.
He looks in on Orihime, wherever she might be, to ascertain if there might be anything he could aid with.
He's just in time, actually, catching Orihime as she rises from setting the tea tray out on the table. Turning to face the Servant as she straightens, Orihime blinks, then blinks again. "Wow, Kojiro-sama. Your hair is so pretty!" she squees, folding her fingers together. She's always been a big fan of long hair. She can't keep her fingers out of Linlg's when he lets it down. "Did you find everything you needed, then?" She gestures at one of the green pillows by the table before kneeling onto her own. Sadly, she didn't have time to bake him any of her 'special' cookies. But perhaps that's a good thing, since it might drive him off forever.
Pretty it might be-- the exact color of a raven's feathers, down to the distinct blue sheen that appears over its deep black hue-- but it remains near-constantly tied back. Flying and loose hair is a liability in combat: that is a rule Assassin adheres strictly to, no matter how Rider-- the only Servant who surpasses Assassin in hair length-- seems to defy that logic.
He accepts the compliment with a slight and modest duck of the head, waiting to kneel until she has already done so. His hair pools behind him as he settles opposite her. "I did, thank you. Again, I must express my gratitude for your hospitality." It is rare to encounter people quite so kind; but he can also tell, on the more cynical side of things, that she might need protecting from those who would take advantage of her generosity.
Orihime Inoue smiles warmly. "You're very welcome. Like I said, I'm glad I got to help. You're nice!" she shrugs her shoulders, then reaches out for the kettle to pour her guest a hot cup of green tea. "It's probably not as good as it was during the Edo period, but I hope you like this tea just the same. It's supposed to be really good for you." Not that Servants need to worry about their diet, really...
Orihime considers Assassin curiously for a moment, her cup of tea resting in its saucer. "I guess I have another favor to ask. Would it...I mean...would you please tell me some of your stories? I'd love to hear how they really happened!" she beams. "And while you do, I'll brush your hair for you." She certainly wouldn't mind that, either. It looks awfully silky, and she longs to see what it feels like.
He smiles into his tea as she says that-- in truth, he has only patchwork memories of cliches and storybook descriptions to tell him what the tea of that era might have been like. He had not himself lived it; he is simply a thousand stories set during it. But he says nothing of this, not having the heart to dim her enthusiasm, and simply drinks.
At this point, considering her generosity, no query she could have could truly count as a favor so much as honest recompense; he sets the cup aside at her question, and nods. "I will tell you some of the legends that I comprise. Foremost among them Sasaki Kojiro, yes." And he does not object to having his hair brushed, either, from the permissive look of him. He needs as much help as he can get managing all that.
"Yay!" Orihime exclaims. "I can't wait! Okay, be right back. I'll go get the brush!" And with that, she pushes off of the floor to patter down the hallway, smiling happily all the way. All in all, it's been a good day for her. She made her reports, had a nice dinner with Ling and a lot of pleasant conversation, and now she gets to drink tea with a samurai and tend to his hair while listening to stories of war, duels, life, and death. Her fingertips come together as she laughs to herself, turning the corner into the bathroom. She has no doubt in her mind that she'll enjoy a very restful evening indeed.
(Also, Assassin needs a tag!)
WHEN: September 11th, Twilight
WHERE: Karakura Town
WHAT: Orihime decides to revisit the park, and chances upon a heavily-wounded samurai. She helps him to recover, and finds out a very interesting bit of information about the Servant's true identity.
Orihime's always a little sad when summer ends. She likes the sunshine, and the promises of warmth whether it's night or day. But on the other hand, she likes autumn too, with all of the beautiful color changes in the leaves overhead. The true turning from green to gold hasn't truly taken place, but here and there are a few dried and dropped leaves skittering across the sidewalk. There's also frost on the grass once more in the mornings, and a certain nip in the air during the evenings. It's on such a night that Orihime felt the need to get some fresh air, and get her mind off of the current problems plaguing Karakura. This is her home. And walking quietly with her hands shoved into the pockets of her green corduroy jacket, she's reminded strongly of all the reasons why she wants to protect it.
Her ankle-high boots come to a pause near the entrance to the park, the playground abandoned with the setting of the sun. It's quiet there now, and just looking at it brings back so many memories of when she was a little girl, playing with her big brother. Orihime smiles. Well...why not? It's been a while! She changes course, walking along the winding path until she reaches the swingset. She looks up. ~It's smaller than I remember~~ the girl thinks to herself. That's what happens when you grow taller, she supposes. Nonetheless, still grinning, she stretches out a hand to lightly grasp one of the chains, turning to seat herself on the band of plastic and rock herself slowly, back and forth.
The end of summer heralds the lengthening of days, a growing cold and darkness that promises frost in the mornings and deep chills after midnight. Autumn strips tree branches eerily bare and sweeps the fallen leaves into piled-up, rustling drifts; it thins the barrier between the real and the spiritual, the mundane and the fey. September is a preparatory month, one that hangs up all the eerie dressings for October: that month when the supernatural soaks the air and ghosts peek through the curtains of reality.
One such ghost of the past lurks in the park this night: a shred of the supernatural, come out of hiding. In a copse of trees not far from the playground, the clatter of steel murmurs through the silence. A blood-filled cough, barely audible from this distance, follows, and a shadow is visible briefly among the trunks: moving unsteadily, as if wounded.
It's more what Orihime feels, before she sees or hears anything out of the ordinary. The creak of the swing's chain halts as she drags her heels into the barkdust, her head turned in the direction of the trees. There's a very familiar spiritual presence there. Familiar in the way of...construction? make-up?...rather than identity, however, because she's certain she's never felt this individual close to her before. The cough arouses her alarm. Whoever it is, they sound like they're injured!
The swing twists and rocks as Orihime abandons her childhood pasttime, quickening her steps as she moves forward. "Hello? Is somebody there? If you're hurt, I'll help you get to the hospital!" And do a little healing along the way, but they don't need to know that. Hee hee!
There is no answer at first, but the motions halt: their owner choosing to stop and slump down against a tree rather than attempt to escape Orihime's curiosity. As she draws closer, details become visible. A long fall of hair, drawn back in a ponytail and tangled with blood. Haori and hakama not unlike those a shinigami captain would wear, if different in color and style. The long sword he carries. The wound that does its best to bisect his torso.
"I would not advise you look at me," the entity-- is he a shinigami? a foreigner?-- finally replies: his voice surprisingly cultured, if thick with blood: the cadence of it educated and polite. "The sight is rather unpleasant." A distinct wryness and a gentled, sardonic amusement print itself in Assassin's syllables, even when he is so heavily wounded.
Orihime gasps. TOO WATE! Her dark eyes widen, filled with compassion. Poor man! "What happened to you...?!" she whispers tremulously. It's not a question she expects to be answered, and immediately, four of the petals break away from her barettes with a flash and a spark of light. Two small spirits, Shun'ou and Ayame, form a dome of light around the foreign man. He might be confused as to why his wounds are suddenly closing, but Orihime doesn't think he'll be able to see them. If he's mortal. Then again, he closely resembles the soul reapers of her world... "Are you...a shinigami?" she ventures, blinking up at him.
She releases her power before he has time to reply, and the sudden spike in spiritual energy-- as well as the flash of light-- startle him into silence. A spirit himself, he has litle difficulty in seeing the healing energy that knits his wounds: and from the way his gaze tracks it, Orihime might be able to guess at his ability to do so.
"These worlds are rife with dangerous things," he replies as she works: finally answering her question. "Even Servants are sometimes caught off guard." And it's really a wonder he's even lived -this- long, given his penchant for -looking- for challenges. Servant Class Assassin: a thrillseeker to the end.
When she asks if he is a shinigami, he looks momentarily blank-- answer enough to her question-- and then shakes his head. "But I am indebted to you for healing me. A remarkable ability," he notes: observing how cleanly the wounds heal. Despite that, he still looks a bit enervated: the result of too much mana expenditure, too fast.
Orihime smiles, and perks at the mention of 'Servant.' Oh YEAH! That's where she's felt this particular kind of reiatsu before. From Lancer, and Archer! She maintains the shield, more than a little surprised at the speed of the man's recovery. Either it's because his spiritual composition responds very positively to her powers, or she's been getting a lot better with her training. She's not sure which, but she's vastly relieved to see that it's working. Even the tears in his clothing begin to mend. Strange, that...
"Anou...you must have run into a Hollow. Was it a big creature with a white mask, and a hole in its chest?" she asks, relaxing a little once she notes the movements of Shun'ou and Ayame. Oh good. Less chance of him freaking out, then, since he's not entirely unfamiliar with the paranormal. "It's very nice to meet another Servant," Orihime smiles, focusing her attentions on the biggest wound in his side. "I'm Orihime Inoue. I've already met Lancer-sama and Archer-san." Guess which one she's grown to adore and respect more than the other?
Of course you like Lancer more than Archer. Lancer has some redeeming qualities! Archer is just a bastard.
"This happened in a different plane," he explains when asked, as the shield does its healing work. No, this is one thing we cannot blame on the Hollows, we are afraid. "But I came here through the Gates because of the high concentration of spiritual energy. Such a surrounding would replenish mana more quickly."
Surprise claims his features as she tells him she's met the other two Servants: and moreover, that they apparently told her that they -were- Servants. He was always one of the least concerned about secrecy, of all the (non-insane) Servants-- ironic, given his Class name-- but even he is having difficulty adjusting to the changes that the loss of their Masters has wrought. Without those Masters, without the covert war, there is less need to be so secretive: and now, it seems even strangers know what it is to be a 'Servant.'
"Servant Class Assassin," is his reply to her introduction, a polite inclination of the head accompanying the words. "Or if you prefer, Sasaki Kojiro." A name that might actually ring a bell with Orihime, depending on how much she knows of legendary Japanese swordsmen. "So you have met the others. Do you know of their whereabouts now?" Not that he particularly -needs- to track them down... but still, people like to keep tabs on that which is familiar.
"Oh, you're low on mana too? I can help with that," Orihime smiles, her eyes flicking from Assassin's wound to his face, then back again. "You must have been fighting many battles. That's how your mana gets depleted, right? As soon as your wounds are healed, then..." She trails off, focusing on the situation at hand once more.
At least, that's what she intended until he reveals his name. Being Japanese herself, she recognizes the famous swordsman of the Edo period right away. "R-really?! But...you look so different...I thought you'd be..." Fat and short, like all pictures depicting that particular era. But she doesn't DARE say such a thing, it'd be so rude! So instead, she bows over at the waist, as low as she can go. "I-I'm honored, Kojiro-sama! REALLY honored!" WOW! Wait until the others find out! And he's so free with his name, too. Lancer nearly flipped when he accidentally revealed his identity. And he hadn't even said what his real name was, either! As for his question? She doesn't answer. She probably forgot, swept up in her excitement to meet a real legend from her own country's history.
Assassin has, it seems, hit the jackpot. A girl who not only can heal wounds, but replenish mana like a Master? That's all a Servant could ask for, in these unpredictable and dangerous worlds. Surprised at how easily and casually she speaks of her ability to solve his mana difficulties, he reflects wryly that he's probably hit on the reason both of the other Servants interact with this girl. "It is: and I would be further indebted should you aid with that as well."
He's only momentarily surprised at how readily she recognizes the name: a name he is free with in part because he does not care about the secrecy to which a Servant would normally cling. He'd been coherent enough to notice that Karakura was obviously a Japanese town, and the legend from which he takes his name is of Japanese origin; it made sense that she would recognize it. But for a moment, his gaze is almost troubled as he watches her profess her excitement. He is not fully Sasaki Kojiro, not in the way Lancer -is- Cuchulainn: he is simply based heavily off that legend, with countless other samurai legends quilted into the mix. After many tellings, stories and archetypes gain their own sort of power.
"That is the name I take," he eventually tells her, voice quiet as he reaches forward to draw her out of her bow, "and he is the legend I most represent. Were you told of what Servants are, Miss Inoue?"
"Anou...a little bit!" Orihime answers. This just completely made her day. She's been troubled ever since Captain Yamamoto told them the news about Aizen, and that trouble was relived when she made her report to the IPA. She wasn't counting on meeting a man revered as legendary, nor was she counting on him being so...nice! "I know there's a war over a Grail, and that it's twisted a bit because people can wish for selfish things, and I know that most people aren't able to see you guys, and that you need mana to remain on this plane of existence. Just the rough basics, really," Orihime smiles, rubbing at her cheek. Wow. WOW! She still can't get over this.
Seeing that his wounds have closed, at least visibly, she decides to make sure he's whole again before pumping him with spirit power. "So...do you feel okay now? I can keep healing, if you have any pains or bruises remaining, Assassin-sa...ah...c-could I call you...could I call you Kojiro-sama?" Orihime's smile turns shy.
He leans back again, a flicker of a smirk crossing his face at her reply. She's really been given the rundown, hasn't she. The expression is short-lived, however: letting her think something not entirely true seems too dishonest for his taste, and that troubles him more than the reality of his nature. He was never a particularly secretive sort, nor a sort inclined to mislead. "Sasaki Kojiro is a legend," he tells her eventually. "What you have heard of him is a myth; and so that, in turn, is all I am. A well-remembered myth given form to fight in that War. Some Servants are like that."
Some of these eirei, like Lancer, truly lived and died. Others-- like the one before her now-- are mere stories: stories that gained such power and remembrance in the minds of men that they merited an incarnation within the Throne.
But in all respects he really is Sasaki Kojiro-- except for the one minor problem of such a man never having existed-- and so he does not attempt to argue all that hard. He bears the memories, he bears the sword, he bears the skill: is it a stretch to say he is the man whose name he has claimed? "Knowing that, it is a matter of your own preference what you call me." He is quiet then, letting her work, until questioned: at which point he replies, "None remain. Your healing is thorough."
Orihime Inoue looks relieved, and exhales. "Oh good. I was worried," she laughs, and drops her hand from her cheek. "Even if you're a myth, Kojiro-sama, you're here before me right now, real as real can be!" She smiles, playfully brushing her fingers against a lock of hair that hangs by his right cheek. "See? I can hear you, feel you, see you...that's real enough for me. And it's still an honor. After all, I've met Superman and Darth Vader, too. They were just people from comic books and movies, but out here...wow, anything can happen, and you can end up meeting anyone! So don't feel bad, okay?" she beams. Even if she doesn't really know if he's sad or not, the expression on his face made her think that he needed a little confidence and cheering up.
"All right, let's fix up the rest of you," she swings her arms to loosen them up...even if it really isn't necessary, it makes her feel a little more prepared. She holds up her palms, dark eyes flickering up to Assassin's face. Offering a reassuring smile, she gently rests her hands on his chest and begins to transfer some of her spirit power. "I don't know when you'll be full, so let me know when to stop, Kojiro-sama."
Assassin bears little regrets or sadnesses about his nature. It is enough for him that he incarnate into a reasonably exciting world; as long as that happens, he does not care what his origin might be. But nonetheless, it interests him how warm this girl is, and how readily she finds words of reassurance. It's quite the contrast from Caster, who treated him as a golem and a thing.
"As you say," he replies, amused at her reasoning. "Nonetheless I felt it necessary to address, given your reaction; I dislike the prospect of potentially misleading another." He has too much honor for that. He won't even perform the sneak attacks that should be a hallmark of his Servant type. Such things lack class.
That said, he stills to let her transfer her spiritual power: rather curious as to how it would feel, as he has never received energy from a source that was not mana. But if she has done this for Lancer already, she might note that Assassin touches her hand and tells her she may stop quite a bit sooner than Lancer; Assassin has the most limited mana pool of the Servants. "I am indebted to you for your aid," he reiterates, as she finishes up. "If there is any manner in which I may repay you, name it."
Orihime Inoue blinks, her breath catching a little in her throat as she's halted. Done so soon? Awww, that's sweet of him. She figures he's probably like Simon Parker or Matt Conway in that regard, not wanting any more than absolutely necessary. But rather than call him on it, and risk insulting his honor and pride, Orihime simply bows her head and takes a step back with her hands clasped in front of her. "I was happy to do it! Getting to meet you really means a lot to me," she beams.
For a moment she considers just waving it off, saying that it was nothing. But then she remembers how insulted Ling had appeared when she first told him something along those lines, and how adamant Lancer had been about making sure he repaid her for the same thing. "Well...there is /one/ thing..." she says after a moment, looking away. Then her gaze swivels back to Assassin, and she smiles. "Would you please come have tea with me?" She clutches her hands beneath her chin, looking up at him imploringly.
Once she has stepped back, Assassin shifts slightly, as if testing his limbs; after that, he rises to his feet, his motions gradually becoming smooth once more as he adjusts to the sudden healing. Straightening his clothes, pushing his hair back over his shoulder, he pulls a soft cloth out to studiously clean the blade of his nodachi. It's not entirely a necessary thing-- the weapon is mana, not steel, and will not be damaged by leaving blood on it as once it might have been-- but force of habit and common propriety drive him to do it nonetheless.
He watches her as he does this, his gaze remaining politely on hers as she considers his words. But whatever he had been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. His motions pause briefly, a brow rising in mild surprise; but the expression is evanescent. A smile replaces it: amused, if somewhat uncomprehending. He's never quite encountered a personality like this before. "Is that all you would ask?"
Orihime Inoue nods. "That's it!" she promises, rising onto the balls of her feet. "I guess I could show you the flyers for the Relief Society, but it involves a lot of charity work and things like that. I guess I'm not really too comfortable yet with the idea of having someone indebted to me, Kojiro-sama. Especially someone like you!" she laughs. "It doesn't sit right. But we can be friends, couldn't we? I'd /really/ like that." She takes two steps back and begins to turn, grinning over her shoulder at him. "My apartment isn't too far from here. You're probably tired, too, right? I have a futon you can borrow, and lots of spare blankets."
Assassin looks blank as she mentions the Relief Society. He's never heard of it, and the word 'charity' does not immediately ring a bell for him-- as well as seeming somewhat at odds with his nature-- but if Lancer could do it... there's no telling whether Assassin might as well. You never can tell what a freed Servant will do with his autonomy.
"I sense you will become used to the concept, with time," he replies wryly. "You give quite freely. Though in turn, I am not accustomed to the concept of receiving without giving back in some equal measure." But it seems he considers friendship a 'start'; for as she turns away, he makes to follow, sheathing his weapon and falling into a state of insubstantiation so that awkward questions of why Orihime is taking a bloodied Servant home do not arise. "Are you capable of perceiving us while we are insubstantial?" he asks; he assumes that she can, but it costs nothing to be certain.
And now she offers lodging? Her hospitality, it seems, knows no bounds. He is quiet a moment, before replying, "Yes. It would be wise to take time for recovery. But while I impose upon you, your apartment will have my protection." Summoned for the purposes of guardianship, it is a familiar role to fall back into.
Orihime Inoue looks back over her shoulder again, nodding once as she smiles. "Mm hm! I can! It's because I can see ghosts and spirits...things like that. Don't worry, though," she turns to face forward again. "Not many people here can do it. Just Uryuu-kun, Sado-kun, Tatsuki-chan, and Kurosaki-kun. People that come through the gates might be able to, and the shinigami could as well, but like I said, it's pretty rare," she shrugs. Normally she wouldn't tell this to just anyone, but Assassin is special. The fact that he IS a spirit helps tremendously in allowing her to feel comfortable confessing her abilities to him. Besides...he's so honest. Orihime can't help but feel compelled to honor him with the same truthfulness he's shown her.
"Ah! Would you really?" Orihime perks up at his offer. "I'd love that! Don't worry, you're not imposing at all, but the extra protection would be really helpful!" She certainly has a fair share of enemies to worry about. "I don't think anything bad will happen, but if it does, it's nice to know that you'll be there. I think I can rest easy tonight," she laughs. "Thank you very much, Kojiro-sama."
Assassin is honest and forthright firstly because of his honor-- one similar, in fact, to the bushido code which the samurai he is based off of cleave to-- and secondly, because he is not the sort to care overmuch for secrecy. Of all the Servants, he was always the most free with his name (it wasn't truly his, not -really-) and the most free with his intentions. They were always simple, after all; and he had nothing to lose by letting things slide. It made things all the more interesting.
But having hit upon something that she appears to need, Assassin's vague disquiet at not being able to sufficiently repay her is somewhat alleviated. "Then I shall offer my guardianship in recompense. So you are frequently imperiled, here? This world is a dangerous one?" Are there powerful entities to face in mortal combat?! Assassin would be all over that.
"Ah...well..." Orihime's smile turns sheepish. If Assassin had asked Tatsuki or Ling, he would have received a reply of a resounding 'YES!!!!' But Orihime likes to think that she can take pretty good care of herself, even if she is a little 'damaged' without Tsubaki. "It can be. I guess I should be honest...there are souls called Hollows here that try to eat other souls. Especially ones with lots of power. You should be safe enough," since his power output doesn't rival Ichigo's (no one does!), "but just the same, it's best to be cautious. I don't think you'd have any problems fighting one, though, if you found one. They look like monsters, with a hole in their chest and a white mask on their face." She's not going to tell him she's frequently imperiled. She isn't! She just happens to...sometimes...a lot...stumble into certain people or situations that don't usually work in her favor... Okay, fine, it happens. But it's just embarrassing to admit!
Assassin looks rather closely at her as her expression goes sheepish and she starts demurring. He's interacted with people enough by now to know that this sort of behavior indicates a truth that does not wish to be admitted.
Her description of Hollows, to him, calls to mind a particularly malignant Servant preying on human souls to sustain its own life. It's a close enough comparison to be workable. Though oddly, Orihime might note that his interest actually increases at talk of dangerous or powerful entities. It's as if he's looking for a challenge. "I see. So these 'Hollows' would target you for your abilities."
It sounds dangerous enough to him, and he doesn't even know about Aizen yet.
"My abilities?" Orihime blinks. "Well...probably not those so much as my soul, but mine's really not much compared to the others," she admits, smiling up at Assassin. She slows her pace, dropping back so she can walk beside him. There, that's better! Of course, if she knew of Aizen's interest in her abilities, then the others would be FAR more protective of the girl, and Orihime would be more than a little terrified. "The only person who seems to really not like me is Shadow." She quiets a bit, her smile fading. "I almost forgot...actually... He hasn't done anything in quite some time. But he used to go after the people I cared about, just because he wanted to get to me. I'm not really sure why," she looks up at Assassin. "I feel a little sorry for him. He said something happened to him when he was younger. I don't know what it was, but it seems to make him think people are really bad." Orihime pauses, then blinks as she straightens. "Ahhh, why am I telling you all of this? You didn't ask for that kind of information!" she laughs, rubbing the back of her head.
It's just that he's so easy to open up to. He's gentle, calm, and polite. He also seems earnestly concerned about her welfare. Or, well, concerned about fighting the things that are a threat to her welfare. Either way, she instantly likes him. It shows in her smile. "You like fighting the bad guys a lot, don't you Kojiro-sama?"
"Having seen the scope of your healing, I would beg to differ; but then, I do not know who it is you compare yourself to." Though if Assassin saw Ichigo, he might well become another Kenpachi and end up avidly seeking a duel from the boy. The fastest of all the Servant classes, pitted against a shinigami whose bankai kicks his speed up to inhuman levels... it would be interesting, to say the least.
He is... calm, yes, and polite: with mannerisms so refined his motions seem perpetually gentled, even when they are combative. And also, he is playful in a way: curious and inquiring. There is a culture to him that speaks to countless samurai legends of grace and honor. He listens in silence as she speaks, never interrupting: when she finishes, he inclines his head briefly in thought. "I did not ask; but it hurt nothing for you to speak of it," he eventually replies, choosing his words with an almost uncertain deliberation. He may possess the personality of an archetypical samurai, but in many ways he is also a blank slate of a spirit only recently given life. Certain types of interaction are still a bit awkward to him.
But the topic of fighting is a far easier one. He warms to it with an air of familiarity; this is what he was generated to do. "I enjoy pitting myself against challenges. Combat is what we Servants are for; it is validating to match blades against worthwhile opponents. In life I was not given the opportunity to truly test my abilities against opponents capable of receiving them; but here, it seems there shall be no shortage of that."
Orihime Inoue nods slowly. She's heard the legend of how he was defeated in combat. And it was a cheap and dirty trick! Stupid Musashi. "Well, if you have the legend of a samurai, that's perfectly understandable!" she beams. "I think you would like Captain Zaraki. He /loves/ to fight. He's actually a little scary, because he's so good! We're also planning to have a martial arts tournament, once we can get the clearance for the location. Maybe you could sign up and participate, Kojiro-sama!" she beams at him.
It was. And that's not to mention the rudeness of Musashi's conduct in general: arriving hours late, dressing inappropriately, and then using such an unconventional weapon. Though some say that the reason he chose to carve a sword from the oar was in order to exceed the reach of Sasaki's own Monohoshi Zao. It certainly worked, if that were the intention.
The name is noted-- another who enjoys dueling? It sounds as if that is what she means-- and he glances over at her as she speaks of a martial arts tournament. "Perhaps," he replies, with some interest: though he would certainly be checking the strength of the opposition before he commits. If there is not a sufficient level of challenge, callous as it is to say, he would not be quite as engaged.
Orihime Inoue smiles. "You don't have to decide right away. Think it over! I'd cheer for you, though, if you think you'd like to compete. The prize probably won't be very big, but it's still a good chance to meet new people." And beat them up. But somehow, that doesn't really sound right out loud, so she doesn't say it.
After several blocks, Orihime finally turns down a short path leading to the stairs of her apartment complex. She ascends first to unlock the door and flip on the lights, revealing a small and cozy sort of flat. "There's the futon," she points at the black couch situated in front of the television. "The bathroom is down the hall..." Although she's not really SURE if Servants have to pee. If Lancer drinks whiskey, though, it's got to go somewhere. Better to assume that they do, just in case. "The towels are in the closet if you want to shower! Go ahead and rest, I'll go make some tea," she grins, unable to resist bowing a little before she slips off her shoes, hangs up her jacket, and trots into the kitchen.
Her words meet an amiable sort of quiet acquiescence, as he follows her up into her apartment. As she opens the door, he glances over the place: quickly discerning that she must occupy it alone. While he is not familiar with the conventions of this plane, some things tend to hold true across most Japanese cultures: people of Orihime's age don't generally live by themselves.
"You live alone? You seem young, for that..." He should have guessed, really, given how free she was about inviting him back. While he talks, he's also ferreting into her closet for towels: though not before waiting politely for her to make herself at home and extend her permissions for him to do so.
"I didn't always," Orihime chuckles from the kitchen, filling a clean pot with fresh water from the tap. "My older brother took care of me, until I was twelve. Then he passed away." She pauses, then glances back over her shoulder. "His portrait is to your left, on the dresser. He's handsome, isn't he?" Her smile is warm, but her eyes are a little sad. Of course she misses him. But it makes her happy to share his memory with others.
Reaching into the upper shelves, Orihime pulls down a pair of teacups and sets them on a tray. "But recently, I got a lot of roommates! Rangiku-san and Captain Hitsugaya from Soul Society came to stay with me, while investigating some business. But Rangiku-san went back, and...well, Captain Hitsugaya seems to like sleeping on the roof, so I don't see him much," she laughs. "But Ling-san stays with me a great deal. He probably stepped out to get some training, or to follow a lead. He's not from this world, but we met and became good friends, got engaged, and fell in love," she beams. ...Something about the order of events doesn't seem quite right, does it...? "You'll probably get to meet him soon, if you like. He's really wonderful!" Gush...gush...
He looks at her from around the open door of the closet as she tells him of her brother. I see, he says quietly, and is silent until she changes the topic again: unsure, again, of how to conduct himself in these less familiar situations. For all his grace and politeness, there are still things in which he is surprisingly unversed: a mark of the holes in his imperfect construction. He began life as an improper Servant, after all: a mere myth.
He is unfamiliar with all the specifics of this world that she refers to, but does not ask at the moment. To her mention of Ling, he replies, "I expect our paths will cross," as he collects a towel and makes for the shower. Even if he does not currently have actual plans to reside with Orihime-- there is no real Master-Servant relationship here, after all-- thus far he intends to, at the least, stop by frequently to ensure things are all right. And if this Ling also stays with Orihime frequently, they are bound to meet at some point.
Orihime Inoue chuckles to herself, dipping a scoop into the tea leaves and emptying them into the kettle. "Probably! Ling-san gets around, he travels a lot. And he has such a big smile, I'm sure you'll like him...hm?" She turns her head as Assassin walks past, towel in arms, heading for the bathroom. Whatwhatwhat? A shower right now? ...It makes sense. He must feel awfully dirty after that battle, with dirt and dried blood on his skin and clothes. "Oh! Kojiro-sama, just a second!" She abandons the stove, heading for a chest in the living room over which an orange vest is draped. Gosh, she sure hopes Ling doesn't mind if she borrows some of his clothes for a stranger. But...why would he? He'd surely welcome the assistance of another servant, especially one as likeable and polite as Assassin. She withdraws a pair of loose black pants, and rifles a bit more to find a long Chinese top, the hem of the shirt falling nearly to the knees and fastened with wooden pegs etched in ivory and silver. Wow, fancy stuff! It ought to suit Assassin well, then.
The girl stands, clothes neatly clasped in her arms, and she dashes after the Servant to catch him before he can close the bathroom door. "Here. So you have something clean to change into," Orihime smiles, offering the bundle.
Just a quick one, while she's making the tea and getting things ready! He's fast about these things, despite the sheer volume of hair he has. Don't ask how he gets through it all so rapidly. Besides, he doesn't want to sit anywhere in bloody clothes and risk setting stains into the furniture.
When hailed, he pauses briefly in the bathroom door: before a brief expression of 'oh, right,' crosses his face once she emerges with a change of clothes. Don't worry overmuch; Assassin will treat the clothes well. ...unless he were distracted by some monster flying by the window: in which case he'd likely fly out to do mortal combat with it and end up ruining them by accident. But what are the odds of that?
Thusly armed, he nods his thanks and disappears into the bathroom. There is a rather lengthy period of silence, in which he is presumably puzzling over how exactly to -work- the shower-- turning, pulling, and pushing in various combinations until -something- happens-- before he finally gets the water running.
Orihime Inoue was wondering if she'd have to knock and offer more assistance...but when she hears the groan of the pipes, she knows he's got it figured out. Good, she's glad! It must be hard for him, getting used to this new technological era. ~Don't worry, Kojiro-sama. I promise to take good care of you, whenever you need it!~ she promises, glacing back at the bathroom door with a small smile. And then she's off to finish making that tea.
It takes him about ten minutes to finish up-- a credit to a personality based in an era where lengthy soaks were the predominant method of bathing-- and when he reemerges, a few minutes after that, he is neatly dressed with his bloodied clothes folded away precisely. He has not bothered to tie his blue-black hair up, leaving it loose so it can dry faster, and it falls straight and rustling to his knees. Mercifully, he has toweled it so thoroughly that it does not drip on the ground; a good thing, given the sheer volume of it. Had he left any water in it, he'd have thoroughly soaked the floor by now.
He looks in on Orihime, wherever she might be, to ascertain if there might be anything he could aid with.
He's just in time, actually, catching Orihime as she rises from setting the tea tray out on the table. Turning to face the Servant as she straightens, Orihime blinks, then blinks again. "Wow, Kojiro-sama. Your hair is so pretty!" she squees, folding her fingers together. She's always been a big fan of long hair. She can't keep her fingers out of Linlg's when he lets it down. "Did you find everything you needed, then?" She gestures at one of the green pillows by the table before kneeling onto her own. Sadly, she didn't have time to bake him any of her 'special' cookies. But perhaps that's a good thing, since it might drive him off forever.
Pretty it might be-- the exact color of a raven's feathers, down to the distinct blue sheen that appears over its deep black hue-- but it remains near-constantly tied back. Flying and loose hair is a liability in combat: that is a rule Assassin adheres strictly to, no matter how Rider-- the only Servant who surpasses Assassin in hair length-- seems to defy that logic.
He accepts the compliment with a slight and modest duck of the head, waiting to kneel until she has already done so. His hair pools behind him as he settles opposite her. "I did, thank you. Again, I must express my gratitude for your hospitality." It is rare to encounter people quite so kind; but he can also tell, on the more cynical side of things, that she might need protecting from those who would take advantage of her generosity.
Orihime Inoue smiles warmly. "You're very welcome. Like I said, I'm glad I got to help. You're nice!" she shrugs her shoulders, then reaches out for the kettle to pour her guest a hot cup of green tea. "It's probably not as good as it was during the Edo period, but I hope you like this tea just the same. It's supposed to be really good for you." Not that Servants need to worry about their diet, really...
Orihime considers Assassin curiously for a moment, her cup of tea resting in its saucer. "I guess I have another favor to ask. Would it...I mean...would you please tell me some of your stories? I'd love to hear how they really happened!" she beams. "And while you do, I'll brush your hair for you." She certainly wouldn't mind that, either. It looks awfully silky, and she longs to see what it feels like.
He smiles into his tea as she says that-- in truth, he has only patchwork memories of cliches and storybook descriptions to tell him what the tea of that era might have been like. He had not himself lived it; he is simply a thousand stories set during it. But he says nothing of this, not having the heart to dim her enthusiasm, and simply drinks.
At this point, considering her generosity, no query she could have could truly count as a favor so much as honest recompense; he sets the cup aside at her question, and nods. "I will tell you some of the legends that I comprise. Foremost among them Sasaki Kojiro, yes." And he does not object to having his hair brushed, either, from the permissive look of him. He needs as much help as he can get managing all that.
"Yay!" Orihime exclaims. "I can't wait! Okay, be right back. I'll go get the brush!" And with that, she pushes off of the floor to patter down the hallway, smiling happily all the way. All in all, it's been a good day for her. She made her reports, had a nice dinner with Ling and a lot of pleasant conversation, and now she gets to drink tea with a samurai and tend to his hair while listening to stories of war, duels, life, and death. Her fingertips come together as she laughs to herself, turning the corner into the bathroom. She has no doubt in her mind that she'll enjoy a very restful evening indeed.
(Also, Assassin needs a tag!)