Minato Arisato | Kojuro Katakura | 011

[messianic]

[Receiving a note from Kojuro was a little unexpected, but Minato had no qualms with going to meet with the older samurai; he'd enjoyed his company every time they'd spent time together, and getting to spend more time with him was hardly a chore.

And so Minato made his way over to see him, hands tucked into his pockets and expression calm and relaxed, despite the chaos they had survived. The kraken was quiet now, the banjo attempts having some effect on him by now.

When he reached the meeting place, he glanced around, looking for the older samurai.]

Comments

[messianic]

[He is good at reading people, excellent even, but Kojuro has always given off nothing but an air of elegance and calm. Even now, with Kojuro slightly relaxed, he is not anything other than calm and a steady presence in this area.

So it's calming even bringing up such a startling memory, not that Minato is too concerned. Not like Minato is ever concerned.

So he nods simply, remembering and answering the question, though he pauses, hesitating, at the box.

It's clear it's for him; his name is clearly there on the wood.

But he blinks anyway, hesitant to just take it.]

Ah...

What--

[...for him?]

[kagetsuna]

[For someone who has seen many people hesitate, Arisato's hesitance is clear enough to Kojuro that his expression seems to almost soften--just a bit more. Just enough. He knows Minato well enough at this point to know he could tell as well.

The boy had never seemed the type to receive things, but more to give. Well, now this time it was his turn to be given to.]

This is yours.

[He nods his head only just, to indicate the box in his arms, arms that don't move even a little under the continued weight. There is a place nearby where it could be set down if Arisato takes it instead of opening it, but for now just holding it like this is enough.]

[messianic]

[...There's a slight pause, just a moment longer.

He's...he's touched.

Every time someone thinks to give him something, it touches his heart, because he truly isn't used to it. Every time--

He's touched by this samurai from another era who is almost like a father to him and slowly reaches out to pull off the lid without another word, his face likely sharing his emotions well-enough, lineface as he tends to normally be.]

[kagetsuna]

[Kojuro stays silent as Arisato accepts that this is a gift to him, quietly watching how he moves--but mostly his expression as he lifts the lid from it.

Inside the box, both lid and base lined with padded teal cloth, lays a katana and sheath, entirely handcrafted, deadly sharp, strong and shining. The length, shorter than Kojuro's own nodachi that Arisato had used before, is perfect for the boy's height, it's balance ideal for ease of use as well as power.

Upon closer inspection of the blade, polished to a mirror sheen, Arisato would be able to see, on the upward facing side, the kanji for life engraved delicately below the tsuba.

Meanwhile if he were to flip it over, he would find something much more special. Something one knowledgeable about history would recognize as the Katakura family crest, engraved as carefully as the kanji had been.

The final engraving, even had there been nothing else, would be clear enough indication of just how important to him Arisato had become.]

[messianic]

[It takes him a moment.

It takes him a very long moment to fully absorb what just happened, to truly understand what his eyes are telling him.

Kojuro made him a sword.

His sword had broken against those fish creatures so long ago and Kojuro had made him a new one. It takes him a moment--and then he slowly, as if in a daze, reaches forward and picks it up by the handle. The kanji for 'life' is unmistakable. He smiles faintly at that, even as the gleam of the sword in the underwater lighting reflects off of his face.

Life.

Ha. Perhaps a message. Perhaps a lesson. Life wasn't over--and Kojuro was right.

It was only then that he thought to turn it over.

Minato had always been a good student, when he wasn't sleeping in class; he'd only done some extra research and thinking with the samurai here in Vatheon.

So he recognized the crest immediately. And the implications.

For a moment, the boy honestly paused. The meaning--the extension, the invitation...he paused and he drew in a slow, quiet breath.

And when he looked up, his eyes were dry, though the impression remained that were he the sort to cry, he would be crying then. To be given a family. To be given a connection.

To be given this by Kojuro.

And he breathes in and his voice is quiet and a little shaky but ultimately audible.]

...Thank you.

K-Katakura-san...

[Another breath.]

Thank you.

[For this. For looking out for him.

For giving him a place to belong, which is so much more than he ever could have asked for.]