Evening at the Scallop and Nabe

[Drak]

It had been a few weeks since Jirou had started to train with Roku. He had put on some muscle during his basic training, but Roku’s training had been transformative. Between rowing, fishing, and sparring, his already thick limbs and trunk had gained not just more mass, but definition as well. The blisters on his hands had formed, burst, and hardened over with callouses. All the time outside had also tanned his skin an extra few shades, and turned his usually bright red hair a brilliant and fiery mix of red, orange, and yellow.

All of the work meant that Jirou was working up an appetite, and he frequently found himself stopping back in at the Scallop and Nabe. At first, he had avoided the place, but as his parents (his father more so than his mother) began to accept that he was a samurai now, he started frequenting the restaurant more. It was an entirely different experience than when he had worked there, or even when he had come around a customer with his friends during their academy days. Now, in the eyes of the old Kisama soldiers that frequented his family’s restaurant, he was almost one of them.

Every night he was there, he would gather on the periphery of the huge table in the back that was unofficially reserved for that group, and they would reminisce about old victories. Jirou heard all about the clan’s nomadic days – raiding each other and the settled peoples for resources – a life he was born into, but could not remember except in the faintest of childhood memories. He heard about the Great War and the foundation of the Heart Empire – events which Jirou had lived through but never thought all that much about. The men spoke of current events too: the ongoing war in Suna, Konoha’s strategic feint in Iwa. Some of the men – many of them in fact – were supportive of the Shogun’s current policy of neutrality, of helping the refugees of Suna like Old Tea had helped their clan some years back.

Others among them were hawks. To hear them tell it, that table alone would be enough to turn Iwa back from Suna’s gates, chase them back into their mountains, and bring those same mountains tumbling down on their heads. After that, they would tackle Kiri for helping them, and teach Konoha a lesson on their way there for reasons that Jirou couldn’t entirely comprehend. By the time they got to teaching Konoha a lesson the food had run out and they were well into the alcohol at the table.

They also listened when Jirou spoke, and cheered for his small victories. He didn’t have stories of quite the same caliber as the men – except for maybe the kraken one – but they still cheered for his little victories: beating someone in a duel on his first day of training, being matched with a samurai of renown, catching a fish.

One night, Jirou came in and sat at his usual spot near the corner of the long table, prepared for another evening of war stories. However, as he settled in, he heard the bell above the door ring, and his father’s deep voice boom out a welcome to the newcomer.

[Nick]

Suzuko didn't eat out all that often. Even when she was outside of the empire, she was usually travelling with her entire class, and they usually had someone cooking for them as a group. This cuisine, usually hearty stews, casseroles, rice en-masse with fish, things that were easy and cheap to make for large groups was contrasted by the typical affair at home with the Mizutane. Certainly, rice and fish was a common breakfast option, but cuisine was generally much more cared for by the upper class and those that did the cooking took as much care in presentation as they did taste. Today, though, after her duel within the clan compound, still dressed in the fineries of her duel, but she did not wish to be around the people of the clan.

The young samurai who did work on her steam powered puppet had mentioned "The Scallop and Nabe" in passing several times, to a point that it made her think it was either his favorite restaurant, or depending on the context in which it was mentioned, an institution for the Kisama as much as the Empire itself was. Small restaurants and food stalls were common throughout the empire, not localized to any one spot, sometimes ran professionally by the likes of the Kyoho clan, sometimes ran by a small family, and sometimes ran by a single widowed old woman who needed a way to pass the day. They all silently competed with each other, price, taste, friendliness, and she had to wonder where the Scallop and Nabe landed amidst it all.

As the man's voice welcomed her in, a gentle smile broke across her features. She felt rather at peace with the conclusion of the duel, even if the whole affair had made her feel unwelcome at the one place she called home, so the inviting nature of the restaurant was a welcome change. She didn't respond back otherwise, with nobody waiting to seat her she looked over the restaurant, a few people sat here or there, and while she might have normally moved as far away into a corner as possible, she noticed one person she recognized, and suddenly felt very, very alone. As her eyes met Jirou, the smile melted from her face, not because she was displeased to see him, they didn't know eachother that well, but something that he represented seemed to strike a chord within her heart.

Despite the falling smile though, she adjusted her footing and walked over to the large table he was sat at, stared down at him for a few moments, unslung her backpack and sat it in the chair next to him, before taking a seat next to it. "Jirou-kun. How have your studies been? I think I heard you mentioned by name by Roku-sama."

[Amy]

Misaki grimaced at her hands before wiping them off on the sides of her pants for the tenth time. She had washed them a dozen times but she was still finding small flecks of blood on them. “This is why,” she said to Yutaka who was ambling along beside her. “I prefer to do my…questioning near water. Because dried blood is way harder to clean off than fresh blood.” His hands were, of course, completely clean having left the questioning to her. As usual. She didn’t really mind though, she preferred to handle that part all on her own. Yutaka tended to go too hard, too fast, and it made it hard to get the information they needed.

Usually, she also didn’t care about being spotless but they were about to go eat and she wasn’t interested in getting kicked out. The typical dive bars they went to wouldn’t care but this was a nicer place that had been suggested to her by the owner of the inn where they were staying. It wasn’t like…fancy, or anything. Just nice enough that Misaki didn’t feel right entering while covered in blood. “Let’s try not to get kicked out, yeah?” She threw Yutaka a grin as she pushed open the door, lifting a hand towards the welcoming voice that drifted their way. She took a short look around the restaurant, trying to decide where to sit when the grin on her face grew wider and she stalked away from Yutaka at a decent pace.

“Suzuko!” She plopped herself into the seat across from the girl, paying no mind to any conversation that was currently happening at the table. “Of all the people to run into. How have you been?”

Before she could answer Yutaka walked up behind her, looking confused. “Oh, Yutaka, this is Suzuko. She gave me some spelling lessons as a reward for helping her out once. Suzuko, this is Yutaka. He’s just an oaf who I let travel with me. I don’t know who this is though, we haven’t met before.” She finished talking by waving at the boy she didn’t recognize. She took no care to introduce herself. “You don’t mind if we join you, right?”

[ThatGuy]

Yutaka let out a yawn and stretched as Misaki washed her hands for what felt like the hundredth time. He didn’t have much issue leaving all of the interrogating to her, he just wished that she didn’t take so damn long doing it. When she mentioned preferring to do her questioning by water, he finished his stretch with a groan and spoke.

"Well, someone didn’t want me to drag the target kickin’ and screamin’ through town, so we had to work with what we had.”

When it was finally time to get food, he eagerly followed Misaki towards the restaurant. As much as he’d rather skimp on the food and spend that money on booze instead, he could appreciate a good meal. Plus, Misaki was in charge of the money. The money she was aware of, at least. After entering the building, he noticed Misaki stalking towards a table and speaking to a young girl sitting at it. With a confused look, he stepped towards her.

“Uh… Nice to meet ya, Suzuko. I’m Yutaka, her favorite oaf.” Yutaka turned to Misaki before speaking again. “Do ya make a habit of talkin’ to children?”

He eyed the woman suspiciously before taking a quick look around the restaurant. For the first time in his travels, he found himself surrounded by Kisama. It wasn’t the entire establishment, but he’d only met two Kisama before today. They were technically his family, but at the same time, he found himself feeling out of place. With a shrug, he took a seat at the table, following Misaki’s lead of not waiting for Suzuko to answer.

[Drak]

With her outfit and hair, it took Jirou a moment to recognize Suzuko. It wasn’t like he knew her especially well: they had met once while on a mission in one of the many refugee camps set up throughout the Heart Empire. It hadn’t been a fantastic place to get to know someone, and Jirou’s read on Suzuko was limited. She seemed friendly enough, if a little sullen. When he recognized her Jirou’s hand shot up in greeting as he took a big breath to call out. Then, their eyes met and he saw Suzuko’s smile disappear. Jirou deflated visibly. His hand slowly went back down into his lap as he slouched back into his seat.

With that reaction, Jirou was a little surprised when Suzuko made a beeline for where he was sitting and stared at him silently for a few moments. Confusion set itself over Jirou’s features. He inhaled to ask something along the lines of “Can I help you?” but before the words could begin to form Suzuko plopped herself down next to him and started talking.

“Oh, hi Suzuko-kun,” Jirou started, some confusion clear through a tone that was clearly trying to be friendly. “You look uh… different. Since the last time I saw you.”

Something in him told him that he should put a nicer word in there, like “pretty,” or “elegant,” or just about anything other than “different.” After a short pause, he followed up, answering her questions.

“It’s been great! Roku-sensei has taken me on as a student. He’s been teaching me all sorts of cool stuff like fighting and fishing. Lots of fishing. Oh we also-” Jirou cut off suddenly. From where she was sitting Suzuko wouldn’t have been able to see, but Jirou’s father had pushed his head and bulky shoulders through the restaurant’s passthrough window and was wiggling his eyebrows at his son. Jirou shook his head, then jerked it to the side and his father jumped back through the passthrough.

“Sorry, I thought my dad needed something. Yeah, Roku-sensei has been teaching me a lot. We actually killed a giant squid together-” Jirou was interrupted again, this time by a woman who had come up to the two and greeted Suzuko. With her was a man who looked to be Kisama, but he wasn’t someone Jirou recognized. That didn’t mean much though. There were a lot of Kisama and the ones who frequented the Scallop and Nabe were a subset of them: mostly old soldiers, factory workers, and craftsmen.

“Hi there, I’m Ji-”

“Jirou!” a loud voice boomed out from the entryway. A large crowd of men had entered the restaurant, all clearly Kisama. At their head, was a man who looked to be in his 50s. He looked to be near eight feet tall, and had long dreadlocks which transitioned from bright red at their tips which rested at the small of his back, to a paler color near his scalp. From the knee down, his left leg was made of brass.

“If I had known you’d be bringin’ a girl by I’d’ve worn my nice pants!” the man said, stumbling his way over to the group. He looked down at Yutaka. “I don’t recognize you, small-fry. You giving the kid some tips on how to handle-”

“What have I told you about coming in drunk and scaring my customers?” yet another voice boomed out. A man had emerged from the kitchen door. He was a few inches shorter than the new customer, but was easily twice as wide. A huge red beard and a chef’s hat hid much of his face, but his eyes looked exactly like Jirou’s. In his hand, he held a huge wok ladle.

He turned to face Jirou and his group.

“That table is reserved for the regulars. Jirou, you and your friends can go ahead and sit anywhere else. Go grab a booth if you want. Mei can come by and grab your orders.” He shot another menacing look at the dreadlocked man.

He stalked back into the kitchen, and the dreadlocked man retreated a few steps, making room for everyone to stand.

Jirou stood up from his chair and looked around.

“How about there?” Jirou asked of his new dining party, pointing at a booth without much of a view of the table. “By the way, who are you two?”