Social Interactions Are Hard [Willow/Gara]

[Gara]

Lights seemed to pulse and throb, while the tsunami of noise that was the boisterous occupants of the Bloodriver Bar threatened to drown Aisu Yurei in a sea of overstimulation. It was as if the very bar was waging war on his senses. Every grating scrape of a chair being dragged across the floor, every thump of a slammed glass on a table, each individual sound felt like a physical blow to Yurei. He had been dragged from his home, his sanctuary, by his "cousins," he was Aisu by blood, even if only in the barest technical sense of the word. They had claimed that it was for his own good, however, he knew it was because they believed that he "needed to get out more" and stop being such a reclused." His mood only worsened when said cousins sheepishly admitted that his predecessor did not enjoy these outings either. However, he had eventually given in to their nagging and allowed them to drag him from his home and into what could only be described as the ninth layer of his own personal hell.

Pressing himself as deep into the darkest corner of the bar that he could, Yurei would have turned invisible if he knew how. A drink sat before him, its crystalline surface catching the dim glow of the tavern lights, though he had no idea what it was. He had not ordered it. He did not want it. It was merely another foreign element in an environment already far beyond his control. His fingers curled around the glass, not for comfort, but as a means of anchoring himself, something solid, something tangible amid the chaos. Fighting to maintain some control of his environment, he did his best to distract himself by analyzing every face he could make out within the bar. He watched how they moved, how their postures would shift and change depending on, as far as he could tell, whether they actually liked who they were speaking to, or if they were only being cordial. He noticed how some would tense up, their hands moving to their belts for weapons that weren't there, when an unexpected shadow would move through their periphery, while others seemed more in control and less on edge. It was as though nothing escaped their perception. He ran through escape plans in his head, attempting to limit the number of people he would have to fight in order to escape the bar.

The front exit was quickly eliminated as a viable exit point, as people were constantly in and out of the door. This left only three windows, and an upstairs balcony, that he would be able to realistically reach before he was either captured or managed to escape. There were, however, three problems with his plan. The first, was his eldest "cousin" that was currently at the bar. Fuyuki was among the younger generation of Jounin in the clan, even if she was already thirty-five, but from everything Yurei knew about her, she was terrifying in a fight. The second issue, and primary obstacle in his hypothetical escape, was the man behind the bar. He wasn't sure what felt off about the man, but Yurei was sure that if he started a fight while this man was present, there was a good chance he would cease to exist all together. The third, and final obstacle, was another woman, however, she too was a conundrum. At least, he thought she was a woman. Honestly, with the stories of how his predecessor Hatsuyuki had enjoyed dressing as a woman just as much as he dressed as a man, and actually being mistaken for one, Yurei knew it was never a good thing to assume based on appearance alone. Hell, considering he was a direct carbon copy of his "father," Yurei would be able to pass for a woman as well, should he make the attempt. It was just one of the perks of being the runt of the androgynous Aisu clan. He was so small, fair and delicate, it did not take much convincing for people to believe he was a girl.

Tangent aside, obstacle number three was the one that truly unsettled him. There was something about her—about them—that set every nerve in his body on edge. It was a sensation he usually only associated with high-ranking shinobi, but this was different. It was sharper, more intentional. There was a predator’s patience in the way they held themselves, a quiet but unmistakable awareness that suggested they could see every single move unfolding before it even happened. So, he remained where he was, pressed into his corner, his fingers tightening around the cold glass in front of him. He watched number three carefully, his mind continuously cycling through escape plans, all while knowing deep down that none of them would work. He had been placed in this situation against his will, surrounded by noise, unpredictability, and people who could kill him in an instant if they so wished. He was out of his depth, out of his comfort zone, and—worst of all—completely and utterly trapped.

[Willoria]

Hidemi was hardly a social creature by any measure, but locations like the Bloodriver Bar gave a unique opportunity. Learning how to watch people and assess body language was a useful skill, keeping that skill sharp was just as important. Their gender ambiguity made it a unique experience, there was no telling who would try to interact with Hidemi, or how, often much to their amusement. Tonight was no different. Standing at the bar with a drink in hand, watching much of the others out of the corner of their eyes, one figure stood out more than the rest.

He seemed just as reclusive as Hidemi themselves felt. And after some time, when boredom began to strike, they gave in to compulsion and turned away from the bar. But did not take a direct path. Using the crowd to their advantage, Hidemi stepped around and eventually came up to the table in the dark corner and sat down, fixing dark blue eyes on the Aisu across from them.

"You look like a wolf with one paw in a trap about to gnaw your way out..." Hidemi remarked, barely loud enough for him to hear her over the din.

[Gara]

Yurei had noticed them moving through the bar, but only distantly, another shadow weaving through the chaos—until that shadow began moving toward him. By the time he realized she was closing the distance, it was too late to escape without making a scene. Tension coiled in his shoulders as she sat down across from him, those dark blue eyes locking onto him with an unsettling sharpness.

"You look like a wolf with one paw in a trap about to gnaw your way out…"

His fingers twitched against the cold glass, but he forced himself to stillness. That was… an apt description. Uncomfortably so. His first instinct was to snap back, to deny it, to push her away, but she wasn’t someone he could afford to antagonize. No—number three was different. Strong. Intentional. And he had been raised better than to bite without cause. Slowly, he exhaled through his nose, releasing some of the frustration curling in his chest. "A fair observation," he admitted, his voice measured, quiet but firm. He straightened slightly, adopting a posture more fitting of an Aisu, one that masked unease beneath practiced composure. "Though I like to think I have better sense than to chew off my own foot." His gaze flicked over her briefly, assessing but not lingering. He knew better than to let his scrutiny be mistaken for a challenge. "I take it you’ve been watching." Not an accusation, just a simple statement. Though wary, Yurei remained polite—because despite his irritation, despite the noise and the unwanted company, he was loyal to the village, and she was part of it. That alone earned her a baseline of respect. But that didn’t mean he understood what she wanted. "Should I be flattered or concerned?" he asked, his tone neutral, but the weight behind his words was careful, probing. Testing the waters. Because if she was hunting, he had no illusions about who the prey would be.

[Willoria]

His tension was palpable, even for one so young. Perhaps especially for one so young. She knew she should probably expect it from a member of his clan, but it still surprised her. Though she didn't allow that surprise to show. She took a careful sip from her drink as she watched him. It was her first drink, planned to be her only. She wasn't much of a drinker, in spite of being in the bar she never was one to lose herself to the alcohol. It simply wasn't responsible, loss of control wasn't among her vices.

As he finally spoke she couldn't help a small chuckle as he responded to her words, and shrugged simply as he made his own observations of her. "I watch everyone in a place like this." she admitted. "That is just survival." she added. "As for flattery, you're too young to spark my interest, and concern? No, no one here is a target in my eyes, not even you."

She sighed and set down her drink gently, looking at him a moment as if assessing him. "You do make me curious... you clearly don't want to be here, so why are you?"

[Gara]

Yurei mulled over the woman’s response, dissecting every word with meticulous care. He turned the phrase over in his mind, analyzing its meaning, its intent, the possible nuances he might have missed. His silence stretched, lingering far beyond what most would consider socially acceptable. Yet, the thought that this pause might be unusual did not occur to him. Time, to Yurei, was secondary to precision—if he was to speak, his words needed to be exact. "A familial obligation." His voice was calm, measured, his tone betraying nothing but polite neutrality. And yet, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of unease threading through his words, subtle but present. It was not the obligation itself that unsettled him—he was used to duty, to expectation—it was the uncontrolled nature of it. The unpredictability. The way he had been forcibly removed from his sanctuary and thrust into a chaotic, unstructured environment with no clear objective, no rules he could follow to navigate the situation. With a resigned sigh, he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a sip despite having no real interest in the drink. It was an automatic motion, something to occupy his hands, to ground himself against the storm of stimulation pressing in from all sides. His sharp eyes flickered across the bar, scanning every face with clinical precision, searching for the traitorous cousins who had dragged him here. Yet, despite his thorough analysis of the crowd, they were nowhere to be found.

"Although, it would seem that I may have become the butt of my cousins' joke." His tone remained neutral, but there was an unmistakable edge of quiet frustration beneath it. The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Had they planned this? Had they abandoned him here on purpose, knowing how uncomfortable he would be? It was a possibility. They had always been insistent that he "loosen up," that he "stop hiding" in his books and training. Perhaps they thought forced immersion would somehow change him. Foolish. He tightened his grip on the glass, not enough to break it, but enough to feel the reassuring solidity of it against his fingers. It was something real, something predictable in a setting where everything else felt like shifting sand beneath his feet. His breathing remained steady, controlled, but his mind raced, running through possibilities, solutions, ways to regain control of the situation. Leaving was the obvious choice, but the unknown variables—particularly the woman before him—prevented him from acting just yet. He needed to assess, to understand, before making his next move. So, he watched. Listened. Calculated. And waited.