[Ronin]

The blanching of Gin's face was something Toyoshi had never thought he would see. Perhaps there was something to be grateful to this Muramasa upstart for, although, really, it wasn't something Toyoshi could not have achieved by himself. Still, there were a lot of hoops to jump through, when it came to putting an abrasive sister, who thought too highly of herself, in her place. With these two, he could indulge himself in annoying Gin, and have a reason to excuse himself if she pointed fingers at him.

That being said, Uemon really had guts coming here and making demands as though he deserved anything. But Toyoshi also understood, shrewd stateman that he thought himself to be, that everything was about perception. Uemon had come with whom was seemingly a harmless pleasure-woman, but Toyoshi suspected she was something more. And Uemon himself was not someone to be overlooked, especially since he had killed a member of the Masamune, even if she had been ronin. If things came to violence, Toyoshi was sure he could handle himself. His sister's safety, however, was a responsibility of his. So, Toyoshi would make sure they didn't come to blows, and command the perception to look as though he had done this as an act of magnanimity on his part. "Noted, dear sister," Toyoshi answered Gin, a patronizing smile on his face. "Pity her skill with the sword is not as sharp as her tongue," he thought.

"We have many ways to maintain, or even repair, our reputation, if need be, seeing as it is quite important to us" the Katoku stated, finally returning to the important matter at hand. "But as I said before, I have no desire to be difficult where it is not needed, so you shall have what you came for, and I expect you would be honorable as well." There was a pause, most likely to build a little sensationalistic tension before the hammer stroke came; Toyoshi was a drama queen, after all.

"The Muramasa were exiled, because they sullied our reputation. They engaged in illicit arms trading, a punishment which could have been their extermination, but the Masamune are benevolent, if anything." The only thing Toyoshi wasn't doing at this point was strutting and puffing out his chest.

Muramasa Uemon | Sora Minami | Masamune no Gin

[Muramasa Uemon]

reopening deep, red wounds

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Insults had been repaid with an appropriate dressing-down, and Gin's reaction, feigned or not, was satisfactory.

Just now, they all had more important things to discuss than personal pride. And as the topic turned to grave matters, the wanderer's normally stoic face became severe. Not unlike an animal's as it prepared to strike.

Toyoshi was smarter than he assumed, and though he still possessed that Masamune arrogance, he knew better than to provoke his guests needlessly. If violence were to break out it would not be without cost— for all parties involved. It was clear, by him simply accepting this invitation at all, that the circumstances regarding his family's exile was important to him... and judging by the glint of danger in his eye, the subject of his father even moreso.   

The wanderer listened to the Katoku speak, prefacing his explanation with an assurance of their family's stable reputation and an expectation of honor. "The Taira thought the same, once." He said in regards to their reputation. "The Fujiwara before them, and the Yamato before them both." Reputation was everything in Tetsu no Kuni, and as history had proven, it could shift dramatically overnight. The nation's capital still bore the name bestowed upon it by the first shōgun, and even its grand chrysanthemum castle stood tall, but the Yamato had long-since fallen from grace. And the Fujiwara, though still powerful, now watched over the wisteria in the southern forests rather than rule from Kīroshi. "Toyoshi," he said. "We are not boys playing at swords, any longer."

It was his only response to the man's concerns, trusting him to take his meaning. Once, over a decade ago, the two of them had been friendly enough. Practicing at kenjutsu in the snow, his own father and their mother looking on at the youths, encouraging good will between their families. But now they were grown, and the stakes here were high.

One way or another they would reach a resolution... but it was up to them whether that ended in words, or in further bloodshed. The Katoku spoke, and Uemon scanned the man's face as he listened. A smug telling of events... but one that took the normally unflinching Muramasa by surprise. "Illicit arms trading?" He repeated to himself.

Eyes widening slightly as he scoured his memory for any hint of truth. "...impossible," he finally said, trying and failing to mask a cold anger. "My father was loyal to our homeland and to the bakufu above all else." Above even his own family, as his dedication to his work had proven at times. He could still recall his grandfather, Zaemon, arguing with Iemitsu over not spending enough time with them. "He remained that way... right up until he was butchered by Minamoto men." Cut down like some mongrel at their family forge. "You expect me to believe that he would risk his own life— his family's lives for... what?" There was a  pause. "...ryō?" Now, he was scowling.

Fingers on his right hand curling into a fist as he glared at the Katoku, then Gin. Greed was the Masamune's lot, obsession with rising in status and power— not the Muramasa. "Is this some kind of base jest?" It had to be, and already he could feel something welling up in the pit of his stomach. Spite, perhaps, and as it began to boil over...

....the nape of his neck began to tingle. "I trust you have some sort of proof of this claim..." For their sake.

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