[Kuronmeru Yuuto]

Of all of the things in his expectation list, this was his least favorite duty.



He took up the mantle of clan head because it was the right thing to do. He had the most credibility, the most honor, the most significant name within the clan because of his involvement with the sanbi, the civil war, the councils - he wanted to be the one representing their clan name to the world and the achievements they had taken on after such a short time of existence as a family of honor.



But dealing with horrific children who weren't being appropriate reared by the rest of his family made his particular blood boil.



It was a waste of cleaning the ceremonial clan space. Always one for pomp and circumstance, even if it was for something so demeaning. He told the maids to clean everything, lay everything in the right places, light the sandalwood incense. He told their staff to make sure no one bothered them during the meeting. This wasn't the first time he'd heard of the boy having caused problems within the family space. And thankfully he lived in the compound somewhere. It would be hard for him to wiggle out of this.



He always wore his full robes as it was, but at least this time he would wear his clan sigil haori, something more appropriate for a formal meeting. He wanted this boy frightened as soon as he walked in with the severity of the situation he had put himself in.



As the time came for the called meeting, Yuuto made his way to the ceremonial space, walking over to his small cushion in front of the small, squat table. He made sure to settle himself comfortably with his crossed legs, making sure his robes laid just so over them. He was early, but he expected everyone would be early. They should be. It was the right thing to do after all.



The lighting was low from the oil based lamps, the single circular window behind him was open, and now was just the time to wait for this boy to appear.



He found his particular clan-emblemed fan that he used for this room, since the air movement wasn't the best, and opened it to fan himself. Thankfully it wasn't too hot in there generally, but the fan helped with the sense of staleness in the air.

[Kuronmeru Yosei]

Things were proceeding with how the boy had expected them too, the repercussions for his vandalizing the Kuronmeru memorial to the dead not once, but twice. For the dead didn't deserve remembering, the dead were the most insulting thing one could be to the viscious clan. Weak. Too weak to even survive, the dead were the antithesis of everything the clan stood for, and the fact they had a tribute to such weakness made him sick. Even living as a failure was a far better alternative, at least in the boys mind, a belief that likely wouldn't be welcomed by the clan as a whole. Yet this punishment was backed by the clan, and he'd known that it would be when he'd done it. Yes, all was going as he'd thought it would. With several notable exceptions.

He wasn't going to die. He was pretty certain of that at least. Or at least, that was the result that he kept telling himself was the most sensible. Enyo had told him that he tended to retreat into his own mind, always thinking. And while it had been meant to be an insult, the black haired boy couldn't really deny this, as right now his mind was going over all the potential paths this meeting could take. And one thing kept being his saving grace. He knew how to use the black blood inside him, able to connect with it even in the Academy, before mastering all that was required to graduate, he could manipulate his blood. Not to a large extent, not like Enyo, but he had learned it early and easily, never having the infamous troubles many of the children of the man he was about to see had had. So he almost certainly wasn't going to die. Instead, the punishment would be what he'd expected all along, beatings and blood.

As the boy walked through the compound, he'd be unmistakably Kuronmeru in his appeance. Spiked black hair and pale white skin, the only oddity were his glaring red eyes instead of the usual lighter colored pupils the clan was known for, contrasting the darkness swirling in their veins. He could almost be mistaken for albino, if not for the blackness inside of him. However, he was somewhat out of character as he approached the room the meeting was to be held. Instead of his usual attire, he was actually wearing the more formal clothing the clan was known for, a rose yukata that paired well with the crimson, silk scarf adorned around his neck, wrapped like a bandana.

He wasn't going to die. That was why he wasn't even trying to skip such a tense meeting, one where even a high ranking Kuronmeru would likely feel stressed.

He wasn't going to die. He thought again as he entered the ceremonial room, seeing the stern faced and handsome man staring at him, wearing equally ceremonial robes in front of a ceremonial table. Even the lamps screamed tradition. Anyone else in the room would be faceless figures almost, the boy only able to see the man and his paper fan, the man with the most presence.

He wasn't going to die. The pale boys face would be unexpressive, mostly because his brain was still racing even now. But his movements would betray his feelings more, his pace being noticeably hastier and uneven than what was proper.

He probably wasn't going to die. The boy pulled back the sleeves of his Yukata to reveal another quirky oddity unique to the red eyed boy. Scars. Each time they'd practiced cutting, Yosei refused to allow them to be fully healed, so as to have the flawless skin those like Enyo or Shiu. Instead, he wanted mementos of each time he released the greatest weapon in the world. The black blood inside him. And this gave him a sense of ease. And then he'd stand in silence, waiting for the man who kept his attention. Kuronmeru Yuuto.