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[It seems, most vexingly, in these idyllic days of stacking up Various Hats And Capies And Packaged Snacks so all may be prepared for the comfiest of soul-searching journeys, the Big Red Emergency Phone That Never Rings Unless Something Is Up is, in fact, ringing.]

...? Ah. That is quite troubling.

[Protocol would perhaps state he should leave it be, note it, fetch everyone and call an impromptu meeting, or leave it for the Lord Secretary, but Mikazuki is very sure of himself in all of these manners. He gently picks up the phone, cradled between his sleevies, hangs it up, and sets it back down.]

Yes, yes, that will work.

[If he can find and intercept Konnosuke, he will have to pick him back up and also set him down to reset him. He knows how these things work.]

(If there is adoration or artwork, it's for one's pride, not for the beauty of creation. A life's work, a tool that is hubris incarnate for power. Maybe not so different, but there is no love as it is thrown at you. It feels weightless as it lunges, but you can feel your blade strip through solid enough flesh as it tries to tear--attempting to claw and blind, to disable rather than outright kill. No single merciful shot then nothing. It lands, clumsily, flesh sloughing off bone on its side.)

Ahah[It is all coming together. He cannot say he is surprised. He wishes he had been, when he realizes that he is essentially being slapped with the blunt end of the blade, handled with gloves, attempted to be neutralized, and not destroyed.]

[How it has always been with him. After all, there are many here who can be snapped into pieces, and the world will know no better, for they were already like that- in tiny pieces or in no pieces at all. Not him. They will have to answer if he is damaged, they will have to answer for any marks or scratches or missing bits if he is taken back and put in the box.]

[Perhaps Yoshiteru dying with him in his hands was the closest chance he would ever have. Perhaps he shall never have that chance again. Mikazuki sidesteps the beast groping and charging at him, allows it to fumble by his feet rather than force its weight onto him and potentially bring him down with it, a silent, fluid movement with no enthusiasm, but practiced grace.]

[It would scratch out his eyes and twist his arms and cut the tendons out of his legs, but it would not end him, was that it? He is too precious a treasure, too much of a liability. They will rip his body apart, but not his soul.]

Ah.

[Something about that makes him so very angry.]

Mikazuki turns his head to the beast beside him, and grips his sword in his hands so tightly he can hear the quiet crack and shuffle of straining leather.

[Maybe he will have to render himself a threat.]

[He spins on his heel, sharply, eyes the thinnest part of the beast’s neck, brings himself down, and flicks his sword immediately afterward, regardless of what spray might still result even after the glint of the night returns to his blade.]

[He smiles, looks around, a kindness that stops short of his eyes.]

Come out. Or I will come to you, troublesome as that may be. Ahaha, but if you do not wish to duel, I cannot stop you.

(Your opponent does not afford you any acknowledgement of actually showing themselves upon your crossing through the gardens. The plants that have been joyfully tended to over years by those here, disregarded by what seems to be a beast--a hunched, wolf-like being rises with a growl. Not even the mage themselves, who simply watches near by somewhere--your ease, as they might take it so superficially, is simply insult when you don't show your awe. So it strikes with a lunge, no words more.)

[He is a weapon against a weapon. He could laugh at that, in a sense, if he dissociates from what he has felt and what he has done. Mikazuki Munechika has never killed a man- he has slain other spirits, he has perhaps allowed things to happen that killed men, but only because it was so destined- he has killed indirectly, in so many ways, by his own pathetic inaction, whether forced by his state of being or by his duty, but he has never brought the blade down himself. He is no manslayer. He is no hunter. He is a pretty piece of art, a status symbol, a concept executed flawlessly but still fundamentally flawed.]

Ah. I see. That is understandable.

[He smiles. He smiles as his nonchalant call brings to attention the other weapon, a weapon brought to bear by a master who does not wield it, but he has not been a soulless thing over these years. He has brought himself into this. For what reason? For what purpose? He could laugh, if he was not rendered breathless in his attempts to respond. He has saved nobody. He has delayed nobody else’s suffering by entering this garden. He has done something foolish, something perhaps suicidal, but at least he has done it himself.]

[Was there any love put into this creature’s animation, any care? He wonders as he draws his sword, as he holds his stance, that crooked, bizarre stance and downward angle only natural with a blade that will break before it can bend against an equal force. He cannot stab. He would break himself off. Troublesome.]

[Everything is so troublesome.]

[He can only brace. He can only brace and attempt to jerk his wrist and slash this creature as it goes for him before it connects first and tears his throat out.]

[He is not so alarmed at the thought of it tearing his throat out, of course, but he is also not so alarmed at the thought of it breaking him in half, at the moment. There is a fundamental reaction, a fundamental attempt to fight this creature off and render it dead or inanimate or both, but he does not see himself chasing the person behind it all.]

[Maybe tonight will finally be the night. There is no ‘finally’ of anticipation, he would think, but simply a ‘finally’ of acceptance.]

#Anonymous

(The chaos rages on at all sides, with the only silence, if it could be heard, is from up the stairs where your master has gone with help. Most of the fighting and explosions of all varieties, come from the front. Already, you can hear the start of a few clashes closer to the citadel. Something even being fought openly on the veranda. You can see a flash of something prowling through the gardens--one of the sites with no combat yet.)

[He knows footsteps, at least, he tries to tell himself that. There are many things he would call himself knowledgeable about that blindside and unsteady him, in the end, so while he nods to himself at the fact that he is certain Master is escaping from this, not content to die blade in hand for fleeting honor like the old guard, he realizes that perhaps he must fight as though she has decided to.]

[He strolls past fire, past gunpowder, past ricochets and screams and the visceral sounds that only death can produce, and seeks his ironic sanctuary in the gardens. Walking into a trap. Walking into something set, walking into the jaws of something about to clamp shut. Well. He has never been the most observant, has he? He is not a tantou, darting about alleyways, scouting for the shuffling of a single foot in an alley on the other side of the city, and he is not so large and impervious that he can afford to simply disregard caution entirely.]

[Ah, and yet here he is, golden crescents neatly matching against the moon hanging above them. And yet he stares into the darkness as a doddering old man would, and should. Perhaps he should be able to see something out there, where the ground is still relatively fresh, where combat hasn’t torn things apart yet- but deep down, truly, he knows he sees nothing.]

[He is not as afraid of that factor as he should be. Fear will not save him or help him, after all. Worry only intensifies pain.]

Ahaha, ah, forgive me, I am not the sharpest, but if we are in the presence of company, you may show yourself to me. It would not do to hide out here. That is only polite of me, yes?

[The jingle of regalia, the light clatter of his sheathed sword against his side- and still Mikazuki Munechika keeps his hands neatly folded together in the sort of practiced stoicism that would be the envy of any feudal lady.]

[Ah. He did allow them in, in a sense, didn’t he? He did. His hospitality. His distraction not quite distracting enough, apparently? Another failure, and by the day he grows to pity the truly old men who must face all of their mistakes and regrets and perish considering them, while he has been chewing on his for centuries. There is chaos at all angles, encroaching, steadily, though for once in a very long while he is quaintly in the middle of it all rather than watching it happen from afar. Well. Nothing to it, then.]

[He quietly reaches for the him that is resting on the floor, hooks himself to his side, and stands, hands still neatly folded together. Perhaps he will traipse into them, or they will traipse into him? What will happen will happen regardless.]

(Your bows and formality surprise him somewhat, maybe less so than your manner of dress now that he's close enough to observe. His eyes for a moment go to the blade at your side, and there's a moment of recognition before he returns the bow. A bit more shallowly, a hand running through his hair. "She's not here at the moment? The boss sent me to check up on her. I was here to check in since she missed a meeting earlier this week, then seemed to miss the rescheduled one this morning.") [1/2]

(He considers. “I’ll take up the offer of a tour, it’s not every day you get to see a place like this. Then again, you live here, so I guess it is every day for you.” A laugh, but a pause. “I wouldn’t mind since she should be back soon, right?”) [2/2]

[Ah, so this man is one who is, at the very least, in on the… basics of the matter. Not surprising, considering, but Mikazuki has not seen the last few governmental envoys on their visits, so perhaps he is simply not keeping up with the times? It would not be anything new, if that were the case. He does not tense himself, keeps himself well at ease, despite the pieces starting to arrange themselves and the shapes they’re starting to form.]

[A first meeting. A second meeting. And this is supposed to be the third? Ah. He can but delay the inevitable, can he? Well. He shall try.]

Nnn… you know, I had not heard of this absence myself, it is most troubling, and not usual.

[He laughs, a concerned laugh, despite knowing better.]

I can understand why your superior would send you to visit us, knowing such a thing… I do not know when Master shall return, exactly, but she is never too far or gone too long. I shall see if I cannot discern what has caused these absences from speaking with some of the others if we come across them… it is the least I can do to show you some hospitality for you being troubled to come all this way this afternoon, yes? Well then, well then… I am not the fastest sort, old as I am, but it will take a while for me to guide you around… I can at least offer you my company between sights, hmm?

You are not a man without words he wishes to speak, I imagine, and I am here to happily listen, you know.

[He smiles warmly as he begins his leisurely shuffling past the gate. He’s known you for two minutes, Mikazuki? Worth a try, regardless. He at least hopes, if nothing else, he’s good for this?]

(No one really just drives by this place--the assumption the visitor is an actual visitor proves to be true as the plain black sedan stops. After a minute of probable checking this is the correct address, a man steps out to straighten his lapel and--well, then sees you. "Good afternoon!" he calls out once he starts to approach. "Dankuri Memeko works here, correct?")

[Well. All things considered, no matter what may come of this, perhaps he can be useful. He is useful at so very little things, but being hospitable is surely something he can manage now, isn’t it? Mikazuki laughs warmly, for a moment, at the sheer absurdity of the contrast of their outfits- proper, crisp, modern business versus he, a moving gallery of regalia and finery that was outdated the moment he was given a voice.]

Ahaha, it is not often we have visitors! I am pleased I was here to meet you, honored guest.

[Of course, he is an old man, and as an old man he follows up his initial bow with another to be polite. Two, three, perhaps? They’re all reflexive, but all just as enthusiastic as the last, as he finally rights himself, neatly clasps his fingers together, and keeps them all the further from the blade hanging at his side.]

[Does she work here? Of course she does. He takes a moment to ponder, as if that is somehow a question he does not immediately know the answer to, but he mulls it over before nodding. He has not been one for the intrigue and the delicacy of lying, manipulating, half-truths and deceit… so he shall offer his own honesty, in his own way. After all, there are many layers to their supervision, and what this man knows alone could be everything or nothing. So… he shall not lie.]

Ah, yes, yes, this is the correct address. I apologize if you did not find us on the first trip around, I tend to lose myself at times, in fact, even now… but, ah, yes. She works here, yes. I am one of…

[A coy smile.]

Her employees, yes? If you are here for an interview of sorts, I am afraid she is not present, but, ah, if you are here for an inspection or a tour, I shall be glad to accompany you.

[He only pulls his fingers apart to beckon, to wave, in the most grandfatherly way he possibly can.]

(The citadel side of things has been relatively peaceful for the last day or so since your master's departure, aside from whatever shenanigans others have started to engage in. It seems, though, if you were en route to discussing matters with the neighborhood grandmothers and various stray cats, your plans might be interrupted by a single car rolling up to the gates of the citadel.)

[Mikazuki Munechika does not need a beach vacation. Look at that outfit? He would die. He would burn, greater than any traumatic experience. There is no winning, sometimes. Of course, it is healthy to commiserate, and certainly if he wanders to his typical morning haunt to pick up the Times, ruffle it about in his hands for a while and bring it back to the citadel only when it is no longer morning news but late afternoon news, he will find his people. And his felines. He has seniority, yes, but seniority does not necessitate responsibility, and being who he is, with how many faces are now about, he’s comfortable being the Professional Grandmother Gossiper.]

[Perhaps he need be something else, today, as his leisurely shuffle from the citadel has seen him to approximately three feet from the gate (and it took him quite a while to get that far, most assuredly) before he realizes that the passing traffic is… not passing at all. There is something deliberate, and he, tilting his head like a curious owl, watches, with no subtlety at all. After all, if they are not masking their approach, why should he mask his observation? He has never been the covert type.]

[In fact, he is already humming nonchalantly, offering a welcoming bow. He would simply start speaking already, but Mikazuki Munechika has been around long enough, at this point, to finally realize that speaking to a closed car generally results in not being heard.]

randomitemdrop

Item: Flask of Moonshine, small flask containing an infinite amount of liquid moonlight. Incredibly alcoholic.

#Ahahaha.#It is not unwise to be as a wall at times. Nnn. How do you say it. Plastered?

saniwabito:

-It simply must be Moon Magic A+ at play here. He’s strong and powerful and can probably eat a grail. Regardless, she’s accepting his package (not like that) and looking at it. She rattles it for a moment as well. There’s probably not any sort of horror terror waiting in here. Or a naked Muramasa given its size.-

Thank you very much for your hard work here. I’m sure he appreciates it, too, since it can be a long walk. And there are many fox- and tiger-related hazards.

And it’s fine–it sounds like there are a few parts in here?

-Fortunate, she’s not asking him for his blade or showing Ookurikara the indignity of popping him out to cut through it. Getting a key off her desk, she’s quick to break through tape or rope or whatever hopefully non magical sealing process used for the postal service.-

[Was the Sanjou forging secret actually just sprinkling quartz before hammering away? Has a mystery finally been solved? Perhaps, perhaps not, is that why the background is rainbow sparkles---]

Ahhh, I will not ruin such a ceremony by viewing it, will I, Master? I can cover my eyes, if you need...

[He politely claps at something as simple as tearing through the great barrier known as packing tape, and, being the nosy grandfather he is, leans over to see what it is? He’s simply fulfilling his role? You may or may not want to just reseal this where it belongs and ship it to the bottom of an ocean trench?]

...?

[Head tilt.]

[Another head tilt.]

Hmmm. Material regarding our mission from the government, perhaps?

[Swing and a miss, grandpa.]

#saniwabito

saniwabito:

-She’s about to have to warn Mikazuki about touching but. But this is Mikazuki. He’s fine. He’s daijoubu. Just a breath of fresh air in this chaos.-

-She’s patted. She’s touched just lightly on the shoulder.-

I guess even I have to obey the rules here. Of course. Thank you for keeping our grounds safe for travelers, Mikazuki.

[He may not be a Servant, but there’s some horrifying magic resistance at work here? Or something more? What kind of insidious, unfathomable, undetectable presence lies within Mikazuki Munechika---]

Ah... of course, of course. It would not do to let anyone troublesome by my watchful gaze, nnn?

[He’s completely nonchalant? You’re fine, he’s fine. Another day in Grandpa’s life. He starts foraging in his sleeves as elegantly as anyone can possibly elegantly forage in their sleeves, retrieving both a moon pie and a package addressed to the citadel? The label printer clearly got garbled up somewhere along the way, but this box has been put through the Mikazuki Munechika Wiggle Test (TM), so clearly it must be fine? He even gives it a few shakes? It just sounds like separate pieces of plastic shoved into a box shoved into another box? Nothing horrifying or concerning?]

I did not want to trouble the mailman with walking all the way to the gate, so I retrieved this offering from him. Of course, I would not want to break the seal on this myself, I am not trained in such things, ahaha.

[There are ninety ways Mikazuki Munechika could use a box cutter, and none of them would be correct.]

#saniwabito

you secretly like the smell of your own farts