Sunday, March 1, 2015

Scene 3: Dancing Kappa Teahouse

Age of Succession, 7217 IC
Month of the Cherry Blossom
First Day of Spring
Third Hour of the Morning
Chilly with Clearing Skies (everything is damp from last night's rain)

Finally, the New Year's celebrations are dying away in the streets outside. Occasionally, a loud crack of fireworks will echo through the city, or there will be a group of drunken revelers that will pass by -- probably on their way to collapse somewhere -- but mostly, Kasai has decided that there has been enough revelry for one night. More and more of the citizens are falling off to sleep after an exhausting festival.

Gakusei sits at his usual table, nursing his drink for nearly its fourth hour. It was cold long ago. He has found he must make the simple things in life last longer than he once did. But that is wise, and it has taught him something of temperance. He has enjoyed watching the celebration from his lonely corner. There was a time, only a few short years ago, that such an event would be forbidden by the strict curfews set down by the Jade Regent. When the Amatatsu Empress threw him down off the throne, that was a blessed day.

So, the people of Kasai are free to drink and sing and debauch all they wish, particularly here in The Reeds, where there is plentiful debauchery on any night. And there is little to worry about of trouble. Years ago, there was no crime because the Jade Regent controlled the city with an iron fist. Under the new regime, there is little need for much policing on the outskirts. The Hitsugi Gumi keep things running smoothly, because trouble is bad for business. All is pretty much as it should be.

But, as soon as the old man thinks this to himself, there is loud, obnoxious laughter heard outside. There is a sound of breaking glass, and the front door to the teahouse swings violently open. Three men stumble into the teahouse, clearly drunk. From the size of them, they look to be common laborers of some kind -- their manners are too brutish to be bred from the warrior caste.

One of them flops back first onto the nearest table, laughing uncontrollably. The second has an oversized mask of red-painted papier mache -- probably pulled off of some festival decoration. He hangs it on his head where it tips at a ridiculous angle due to it being so huge. It depicts an outlandish demonic face grimacing in a frightful leer. It is difficult to find it intimidating, however, when the man wearing it is such an inebriated clown. He tries to pour a bottle of alcohol into the mask's mouth, but the drink just spills out all over the floor. This makes the first man laugh harder.

The third fellow immediately begins bellowing and slamming his fist down on the polished counter. He is calling for a paramour, presumably. The proprietor's daughter, no doubt. A pretty thing, but much too young for this idiot.