Private Tales Wisps of White and Grey

[Hazanko Miya]

Old Village by Kingsley Calungcagin
​

---

It was a gentle pitter patter of rain against the stonework just beyond the shelter of the tea house.

Steam wafted up from the freshly poured cup of golden green brew. A syrupy confection there upon a plate beside the pot. Balls of gooey rice gum, colorful and drenched in a sweet glaze.

A biwa strummed a measured clip in the distance, the chords rang out like ripples of rain as the man's voice rose and fell in soothed valleys through the chatter of patrons, who spent their time in warm leisure.

Hazanko let out a sigh, caught between a grumble in his throat as his brow twitched, furrowed and down turned. "Late again, you dirty old bird," a smirk, crooked and sharp as a hook, cut the corner of his scarred lips.

---

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

“Humph.” The imposing black raven-man ruffled his feathers, claws going up to tilt his bamboo woven hat forward just as he stepped inside. “There was a black cat in my way. You know how I feel about cats.” If the raven could smile he would have but instead he fixed Old Man Hazanko with a stare as he went to join him.

The table between them was older than they were, cracks and scratches that displayed its continued duty. Old Man Itachi sat leisurely before Hazanko, a knee bent up so as to rest his wide-brimmed hat against his leg, watching rain water coalesce and form droplets that slowly slid down to the floor.

“I had to go around and the detour took much time.” A lie. Itachi always happened to be late on this day. A clawed hand went to begin on the sweets, the only good thing about this shitty teahouse.

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

"Feh," Old Man Hazanko croaked. "You'd think, being a Shaman of the Feather Clan, you would have outgrown your superstitions by now," he put an elbow on the table with a thump that rattled the cups. He rest the side of his head against his palm. Snatched up the last skewer of the sticky rice-ball sweets. Gobbed one quick into his mouth. Chewed, though he seemed unhappy about the entire experience.

Swallowed it down with a gulp.

He jabbed the exposed point of the skewer of sweets, two rice-gum-balls still run through by the stick. "So," he waggled the skewer, lounged as he was against the old worn table. "You brought the stuff right?" he asked. Jabbed the second rice-sweet back into his mouth and bit it clean off the skewer.

Chewed on as he waited.

How he hated the sweets here.

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

Itachi laughed with little humor, holding back his sneer and instead peering down his beak at the man before him. He gulped down his dessert. He had no reason to chew.

“Superstitions are good for business.” Hazanko should know as much. Itachi went to grab another sweet but found it was gone. He chuntered with a snap of his beak, dropping the wooden skewer back onto the plate and then going to pull something out from his loose robes. Many of his clan pretended to have feathers. As one of the Nine Feathers, Itachi no longer had to pretend.

Against his hollow breast was two pouches, each heavy with what looked to be tiles. He set them on the table between them.

This Teahouse was always missing tiles for their shogi boards. Every regular knew that it was best to bring one’s own. Hazanko and Itachi had learned of this long ago, even if they only came here once a year. Itachi was quick to order more sweets with a shout and two talons in the air. His attention was back on Hazanko.

“Loser pays?”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A grin. Easy as it was greasy. "Loser always pays," he straightened up, and began to move the cup and the tea pot, which knocked soft against the table.

With the moving of the pot, came an old seal, carved into the wood. The old Mistborne missed it at first, as he placed the pot down near the edge of the table, but when he turned back, his eyes caught the old marking.

Caught him off guard.

His lips turned to frown. His eyes narrowed.

"Good for business," he muttered softly under his tone.

It was the seal for the lucky cat raakgui, Hioma.

The sweets came by. An assortment this time.

"Tch-" he sounded, and looked away from the seal. Bit the last rice-ball off the skewer, and finished eating. Grabbed up the shogi board hidden under the table. Covered up the seal and began to lay the pieces.

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

The ever-wise raven began the process of setting each marked tile in it’s correct spot. He started on his side and then proceeded to do Hazanko’s. He was quiet for a long while as he did this, his focus immense as each tile had to be exactly right. If they were uneven he’d had to fix it until it was even.

How a game started was important. Itachi wouldn’t even be distracted by the sweets.

“Least you could do is poor me a cup.” He grumbled as if he were upset to place the tiles as he wanted them. “And a third for Osamu.”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Old Man Hazanko watched scaled fingers, how carefully the taloned digits placed each tile upon the scratched up board.

"Heh," he rumbled. "Must make sure you don't go, gaining advantages, trickster,"

Course, he never brought his own set of tiles. Always trusted Itachi to provide the requisite. Fool that he was.

"Least, not too many," he said absently, as he placed the last of the teashops incomplete set onto the board.

All the gaps still there. "This fucking place," he sounded softly, against the gentle clack, clack, clack, of Itachi's steady work.

He set to the work of pouring the cups. The cup that had already been poured was off to the side, away from Hazanko. As if it was for another guest. Cold now, as the chill air of the outside world mixed with the warm air of the shop.

The second cup was poured, careful and sure. An air of ceremony to the work. An air of dignity about the scarred old Shaman of the Mist as steam swirled and the golden green brew filled the cup. End the pour, and Hazanko shift, like a gentle breeze, he poured the third cup.

Down came the old tea pot. "Cheap piece of junk," he grumbled, and set the instrument down, as the Biwa and its singer turned meloncholy. A song of changing seasons, and lost love seen in betwixt falling leaves and sheets of silver rain.

Hazanko placed the first freshly poured cup before Itachi. Exchanged the cold cup for the second cup, and held the old drink at his heart. A faraway look in his eyes. The lines of his face placid as the rain went on pouring, and he listened to the song.

---

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

Itachi glanced up at Hazanko as he grumbled and huffed as if he had been asked to move a mountain from the island to the mainland miles upon miles away. Perhaps in some ways he had asked too much of the old man, but then again, it’s not like these tiles were going to get in line themselves.

Only once Itachi was done with his work did he finally address Hazanko. And took a sweet treat.

“It was new when we first started coming here.” Although new was a thing of opinion. Itachi wasn’t sure if anything had ever been new here. From the mismatched cups and plates and teapots that couldn’t seem to decide whether they liked dragonflies or butterflies or ocean waves. Itachi took his cup of tea, brought it to his beak and drank from it.

“We don’t look much better than these cups.” Itachi said and held out his cup to show Hazanko a white chip that ruined the moss green color of the cup. “We got our scars, too.”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Hazanko looked down to the rim of the cup, nestled in his hands. Saw the chips, the cracks. Thought, how true his friends words were.

"We have our scars," the Mistborne echoed, cold cup of tea nestled in his palms. "Yet we persist," he added, and drank from his mismatched cup. A silver frog there upon a black lilypad. A pond of grey.

The drink was bitter. Over brewed. Or perhaps the leaves were just over cooked. Roasted just a little too long, rather than dried. A method, to try and cut time. Increase the amount of tea they could sell. Cheap, artless things.

He drained the cup. And placed it down upon the table, without a sound. Grabbed the teapot, and poured a fresh cup. Exchanged it for the cup he had set for their friend who was not there. For Osamu.

"What's new with you, old bird?" he asked, an airiness to his tone.

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

Itachi grinned.

“Old?” He seemed to ruffle his feathers, as if peacocking for Hazanko like a bird that wanted to impress it’s future mate. He went to grab another sweet and scarfed it down as greedily as he had the others. He enjoyed their red bean jelly, even if it was too sweet and there were little red beans to be found. Still, the texture was good enough. “Speak for yourself. I look like a spring chicken.” It was a joke, amongst all of the Nine Feathers.

None of them looked like a young spring chicken.

“Look at me. Handsome as ever.” There was a slight pause as he did indulge in more tea. The trick was to eat the sweet and then sip the tea quickly afterwards. “There has been some trouble, in Mist Clan. Suzuhiro has passed.” Another paused. “We will need to decide who shall hold the Dove Feather. Yet everyone keeps saying how busy they are, can’t get together, can’t look over candidates. I might have to do all the work myself.” He grumbled.

When he had been younger he had shirked any extra tasks foisted on his shoulders, even the tasks that had always been expected of him. How he became the one to organize and to be the leader of work that he always found dreary was beyond him. But that was a part of growing up, wasn’t it?

“And yourself?”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Another croak of laughter. "Right," he said and lazily grabbed up one of the confections. A little rice ball, filled with red bean paste, and powdered with sugar. It was... ok. Probably the most passable of the snacks. He listened as Itachi spoke, chewed over the rice sweet, and took another bight out of it. Chewed.

"Sounds like a lot to contend with," he said idly, shrugged when the question was pointed towards him. Wore that same sleazy curl of the lips as he had when the bird had first arrived. "Well, you know," he waved his hand about, a roll of the wrist that dismissed the notion. "Keeping busy," he croaked. "Taking jobs whenever coin runs short and..." his smile turned shameless smirk. "Gambling whenever I find a good den," he picked up the cup and took another bitter drink.

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

“Still into losing your money.” Itachi shook his head as if the thought actually displeased him. As long as it was Hazanko’s money, Itachi didn’t much care what he did with it. Speaking of gambling….

Itachi placed down the first tile, deeming himself to go first. He made sure it was perfectly.

“Find yourself a partner to settle down with or still running around as a eligible but downgrade bachelor?”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A grumble. "I'd hardly call it losing," he said with a flat, dead eyed look. Made another little sound upon seeing Itachi's move. "Feh," he answered back quick, without hesitation. He wouldn't fall for the Nine Feather's gambit this time.

"What?" he asked idly, his mind still turning over what possible counters Itachi could make. The tired and upset, seeming to ease out of his shoulders as his attention was full on the tiles.

Hazanko loved games. Much as Itachi did. Much as Osamu had. Helped keep the mind off of all those things that swirled around it.

"Oh," he said, as realization dawned upon him. He cleared his throat, and seemed to shift in his seat. Then the second half of the Feather Clan Shaman's probe struck him. "Downgrade?" he grinned, and rubbed the salt and pepper bristles of his kempt beard. "I think you mean, Refined," a laugh. "Don't go worrying those pretty feathers of yours, Itachi," he gave the big man a wink. "My heart is still flies alone,"

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

If Itachi was younger he would have squawked out a laugh. Refined? “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Just for Hazanko, Itachi did ruffle his pretty feathers. He had leaned back some, less upright than before, slowly becoming undone by the shogi and tea and sweets. While Hazanko took his sweet time in figuring out a move, Itachi helped himself more to the overly sweet delights.

He then proceeded to order more with the plate only half full. He’d finish it before they would get the next.

“Lone wolf.” Itachi said. “I think you think it adds to your sex appeal.” He shoved more of the sticky rice balls down his throat. “It doesn’t. In case you were wondering.”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Hazanko pressed his tile forward. The wood made a soft clack as it came down, rasped with the last little push of his fingers. "I make no such pretense," he replied, his smile still easy. "And I leave the wondering to others," he bobbed his brow. "But what would you know, about sex appeal, hmm, old bird?" he grabbed the last sweet just as Itachi reached for it. A flaky little moon cake. He half bit into it, and made a sound to tease the other shaman.

He had little love for the sweets. But he did enjoy trying to get a rise out of Itachi. He took another bite of it, and some crumbs sprinkled across the rim of his robe.

He blinked as he looked at the small mess, made a displeased sound, and dusted himself off. "Damn shame about Suzuhiro though..." he said idly, voice eased of any tension. "Take it, the young Feather Shaman don't quite like the sound of... well," he stopped. Thought better of it. "No prospects then?"

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

“More than you.” Itachi said with just a hint of playfulness that was hard to discern on whether it was flirty or prideful. Whether he did or didn’t was up to speculation, but that was how the shaman preferred it. He was quiet as he took his time to study the board.

“Yes, it is a shame. Suzuhiro was promising but she was naive. Endearing to us, but to what we deal with it?” He set the tile down. “She was a easy meal.” He looked up at Hazanko. The humor was gone now. “Funny how it happens, how the good ones always die first just to leave us to carry on.”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A nod. "I don't think I've heard you speak truer words yet, Itachi," melancholy plain in his eyes, as they watched the board. As if there was something there beneath the tiles of shogi that would help him deal with the pain that was soo rooted in his heart.

The server left the fresh batch of sweets at the table, set down in a series of little plates. The skewers of dango, drenched in their saccharine syrup. Hazanko's brow twitched, and he snatched up one of the treats. Chewed on them as the biwa player's song came to its close.

And there again, between the falling leaves,
Your smile sweet, as swirling silver eves,
There again, between the falling leaves

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

Once again, he went to grab for another sweet, quickly devouring the sweet. He tossed the stick back onto the plate.

“Last year the biwa player was better.” He said in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning over the table just enough so Hazanako wouldn’t miss a word. “The pretty girl in yellow who liked to sing about cranes and heartbreak.” He paused, clearly taking time to think about the songs he had heard. “Was it cranes? Either way, the songs were catchy and not so… dreary if melodramatic. Oh, to be young,” a piece clacked against the board and Itachi leaned back, looking rather pleased with himself. “To be young and foolish.”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A grin, split across his face like a fresh wound. "Oh, last year's biwa player was definitely better," he took a second bite of the dango, ate the sweet morsel and huffed a hot breath. Face warm as he remembered the songstress, and all she brought to the performance. The last bite of the dango came quick. "Was quite the looker," he laughed a pervy little laugh as he thought back on the memory.

Then remembered how ardently Itachi had been watching. How full of genuine admiration he had seemed.

A raspberry blew through pursed lips. And he flicked the dango stick out the window and into the rain. "And I haven't the slightest what you mean, old man," he stretched back, lazy and catlike. His hips popped, and his spine gave little cracks. "I'm still plenty foolish," he said with a bounce of his brows.

Moved his piece forward to take one of Itachi's pawns.

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

A pawn was taken, and in return, Itachi took Hazanko’s piece that had been placed down like a greedy dreadlord in the center of the biggest armada of Arethil. He wagged a talon at the old, foolish shaman.

“Don’t you say anything lewd about my Hinoka.” Itachi said, the ruse up. He had gotten her name and had already made plans to see her first concert in Dornoch. Luckily for him, the Kingdom of Aetochi wasn’t far from Dornoch as long as one traveled as he did. “She’s the perfect woman.” He huffed, going to grab a sweet and finding that there was none left. Had he already eaten through them all that quickly? The shaman’s beady, black eyes stared hard at the glob of toasted sugar still left on the plate, forlorn and forgotten.

“Hey, Hazanko.” A somber melancholy settled over Itachi, no longer marked by playful competition. “You think you can still keep your promise? If I go before you, you’ll still take care of my sister even if she does end up waking up?”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Hazanko's brows twitched. His smile remained. Strained as it was.

"I would never," he grumbled through his teeth. When had he set that play up?

No matter. He had contingencies. Every good shaman had contingencies.

A smirk returned. "No disagreement's there, old friend," he said and laid a finger atop his silver general, thought a moment. "A real full stack, that songstress," he giggled to himself.

He made little qualms as to his attractions. But this was more. Psychological warfare.

Then came the question. The sinister glee that had been shining in his eye all but faded. Sober as the day he had first taken his trial as a Mist Shaman. "What kind of," he hissed a breath, picked up his general, and took one of his friend's bishops. The piece came clack, and he picked up his prize. A grim seriousness behind his gaze. "You doubting me, Itachi?" he challenged. His eyes hardened all the more as he stared at the raven feathered man. "Really think I have fallen that far?" he clicked his teeth, and his head cut to the side as he picked up the teapot. Refilled Itachis cup first, and began to pour his own drink again.

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

Itachi slammed the captured piece too hard on the table. If he looked human, Hazanko would recognize the scowl one only gave when defending a woman’s honor. As if he very much looked like a bird, there was little expression in his features and so he huffed in disapproval at Hazanko’s words. How dare he stare at Hinoka in such vulgar fashion.

“Perverted old man,” Itachi said, even more irritated that he lost his bishop. He’d have to focus elsewhere on the board now. “Perhaps I have. I can’t have my sister relying on a man who kept getting older but his taste in women remained the same.” Although, his sister was no longer a spring chicken. Still, one couldn’t be too careful, after all…. “You used to pull her hair when she would follow after us.”

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

He huffed. Puffed up his cheeks and turned his whole gaze away as his pour came to an end. He set the pot back down and picked up his cup with both hands, one around the bottom. One about the middle. He blew a breath across the top, it shimmered and shook as the wisps of grey faded before him.

Gathered again once the heat came full.

A smirk. "Itachi," he grumbled. "She was a kid, and wouldn't leave us well enough alone," a kid had no business hanging around them. He took a sip o his tea. Sat in the quiet. "Of course I'll look after her,"

Itachi

 

[Itachi]

“Good.” Itachi said, another clack on the board, further away from his loss. He readied himself to start a new battle, the war still not yet won. “If you didn’t, I’d have to haunt you, and really, I don’t want to be around you more than I have to.” Lie and truth intermingled in his words, weaving an indistinguishable curtain that kept all light out from a dark room of secret hopes. “Don’t let her become one of the Nine Feathers.” The biwa player made a mistake, a string plucked too tight and too soon, but none of the patrons in the tiny tea shop seemed to notice. Even if they did, why would they care? This was just a halfway spot, from one place to the other, another small memory to merge with the others and swirl around one’s mind late at night or in barely lucid dreams.

Hazanko Miya

 

[Hazanko Miya]

A sound grumbled from the old shaman's throat. Words left unsaid between the two of them. Until truth burned its way across their dance in the darkness of each other's hearts.

"Hey," he cut, voice the more firm as the harsh twang of the Biwa shook across the teahouse. Harsh enough to have Hazanko's brow knit together. He shook his head. "What's got you talkin like you've come to the end of your rope, huh?" Hazanko put the cup of tea down. Looked to the pieces laid out before them.

As a member of the Nine Feathers, Itachi's life was pledged to the cause of the Feather Clan. To a degree of intensity beyond those simply Borne by the winds.

Itachi