Wedding at Fire Shrimp Village an L5R PbP

With the lack of any geisha house above one star in the area, one had to recover to alternative methods to tell about one's heart.

Though he really was beginning to think on travelling tomorrow to a different place just to find a decent floating world, he realized that only maybe the Yasuki would have anything quality.

Thus he gave up on the thought and went to the poem business. Tanka was the one he did best. He made one easily, yet felt it was not complete. Maybe two consecutive tanks? Only if they could also have meaning separately. His sensei would kill him otherwise.

Kakita Masao comes in from the darkening world to find Sana at work, and almost passes him by en route to his room. But first he stops, to respectfully acknowledge the artist. He's holding his flute in both hands.

"Asahina-san," he says, not loudly but loud enough.

"Today seems farther
From home than ever before
Tomorrow awaits"

The bushi delivered the terrible poem with a straight face, but quickly afterward his on cracked and he chuckled. "I know it's a terrible poem. Good for a terrible day. Sunrise can't come too soon."

The entrance of Masao did not startle him because he did not notice. What startled him was the son of his lord calling his name. His first impulse was almost to throw the poem aside, but that would be strange.

He looked up. Seeing Masao breaking his on so openly like this was uncommon, so it meant trust. He answered on his coy smile friendly one.

"Thanks the Fortunes I was not the only one then." His hand was still over the border of the paper. Should he let him read it?

"Made something similar. Thought not to share, but those things were made to be read." He flipped the piece of paper and handed it to the bushi.

When I found a field
of red freesias, I let
go my parents' hand.
I picked every one up,
until my friend took me one.

As the bushi reads, he smiles a little.

"My opinion is of little weight with regard to poetry, for you know how unskilled I am. But I think this one is pretty good. I think I might even understand it. A little bit," he smiles, and starts to laugh.

He chuckles a little, feeling comfortable to do so, half because he was mirroring Masao. "Oh, you need to know something about ikebanas to understand this one. I didn't pick red freesias just to fit the syllables. It's a poem about today."

Masao looks at the poem again. "Oh. Perhaps I don't understand then. What is the significance of red freesias, Asahina-san?" He doesn't seem to have given up on possibly understanding the poem, which, in the context of Kakita Masao, is a good sign given the events of the day.

"Red is an undesirable color, for the flowers offered to the dead are red. Freesias mean immaturity. It can be good, like how youth is good. Or bad, how imprudence is bad. Since red is a bad color, it is on the bad meaning."

"Haha," he laughs a little, "I did understand." He beams. "Well, not all the depth, obviously, but the moral of the story -- the moral of the poem -- that I understood." He chuckles. "In a few years, Asahina-san, I might even be able to write something like that," he jokes.

"I was not even properly trained in making those. A week of practice and you will make things better than this one, probably." He answers in a smile. "I had also a draft of a second that compliments it, although it is a draft".

Deciding to settle in for a longer conversation, the Kakita sits by the table where his colleague has been working.

"Asahina-san is welcome to share a draft if he wishes, though there is no obligation. Certainly this one can offer no helpful suggestions about it." He smiles in a friendly way, happy to read more but sincere that he is no help in this area.

He looks around some drafts before finding the right one, passing it to him.

Flowers on my hand
I see the moon on the sky
the ocean I don't
and may never walk to
on the line of horizon

"I think I'm pretty set on the first three verses, but the fourth one is too short, and it marries with the fifth one, so I may have to adjust it instead. I will need to make some tinkering."

(OOC: This is literally a draft from before dayflip. )

Kitora could tell him--

Masao shakes his head vigorously. "Asahina-san, I am quite confident that you are right in the path that you see forward. Much of this is... beyond my depth," he half-jokes, playing on the reference to the ocean. "But I think you are well trained in subjects where I am not, and I would encourage you to trust your own judgment here."

"It reminds me... There is a format of poem, I'm sure you are aware," He said, not implying he would know not, but still explaining nevertheless, "that one poet writes the first three lines and the second poet the other two. We did this at the Academy for fun. Would you like to try it?"

"Asahina-san, you are most kind to offer to include me, but I have good reason to expect that your fine work will be borne down by my unrefined lines. While it's one thing to be weak at poetry, I couldn't bear to weaken another's poetry." It's difficult to tell whether the Kakita is engaging in polite refusals or really trying to avoid more poetry.

"Those are done for artists to have fun. Just like, I don't know, a friendly sparring match? Although the best artistic equivalent of this one would be a game of letters... I think that hunting together is the best analogy. It's on a manner that the game is good and all, but people do it for fun primarily."

Masao appreciates the comparison points, and finally agrees. "Of course, noble Asahina-san. I accept your, not challenge, your invitation."

He leans toward the table. "So, tell me again how this is supposed to work."

"Sit at my side, if you would wish so, Masao-ue." He said, in the tone of an invitation and not an order. "The types of shared poetry are two, renga and renku. The main difference is that renga is usually done for art, and renku is usually done for fun. So renku are usually more sardonic. Their structure is the same: One person writes three lines with 17 syllables in total and the other writes two lines with 7 syllables each."

He starts to separate the materials. "There is also katauta and sedoka, but those are always love poems."

Masao sits as he's asked, and nods along as Sanaharu explains. His face shows great attentiveness.

At the comment about love poems, Masao chuckles. "I think it will be some time before I am writing any katauta or sedoka."

His face returns to serious. "So to start, Asahina-san will write three lines of renku, and I will endeavor not to fail him with the following lines." It's spoken like a suggestion, nearly a question, not a command.

Bushi had such a serious on. Had not the man laughed, he would suggest taking it at ease. It was just a game of poems. "Those two are good as letter games. Sending half of a katauta on a letter and waiting days for it to be completed."

He nods and writes three lines, passing them to the bushi.

Freshly fallen snow
poetry errand like one
of the ishiken