The Sheathing of the Sword [DRAFT; DISCARDED]

Children of the Zodiac

Silence followed Sonic's proclamation. Kyoji rubbed at his eyes, finally regaining his vision. Blinking, he gazed into the open chamber.

Kyoji gasped.

Takamura instantly shot him a warning glare, but Kyoji was too caught up in the magnificent view. The inside of the room was absolutely cavernous. Enormous pillars sculpted of solid white marble held up a large, crimson canopy upon which stood a flowing white dragon. The chamber was incredibly spacious, ornate Chinese carpets covering the expansive, white marble-tiled floor. Massive oil lanterns were placed in the four corners of the room, bathing the space in a brilliant, slightly flickering light. Black zabuton sitting pillows were arranged artfully on the floor, beside a large, wooden table with a silken white cloth placed over it. Books were strewn on the table, some old and open, some new and closed.

Paintings adorned the walls, depictions of soaring, uninhibited dragons winding about the room. They were of different colours, red and green and blue and yellow and many more. Kyoji noted that the white dragon statue above the crimson canopy sharply contrasted with the colourful dragons on the walls -- while the others seemed to be free and unrestricted, the white dragon appeared to be still and far more imposing than the others. 

In the centre of the room, sitting cross-legged before the table, sat an elderly man, small in stature but fierce in his gaze. He peered at them over his glasses, wispy gray eyebrows arched in annoyance. He wore a matching pair of a kimono and a hakama for pants. He held a thick, leather-bound book before him, and seemed to have been in the middle of the book. A grimace tugged at the corners of his lips, nose twitching in displeasure at the intrusion. He snorted, but waved them in regardless, eyes fastened upon the elegant woman before him.

"The Daughter of the Dragon, is it? And what brings you to my humble abode, Takamura Matsumoto? What business does the famed Itako Empress have with me? The Dragon of Death is always busy, you know."

"The Dragon of Death will make time for the Daughter of the Dragon." Takamura's tone brook no arguments. "I wouldn't visit your 'humble abode' otherwise, Haruhiko-san."

The old man grimaced. "No, I don't suspect you would." He gestured to the zabuton pillows on the floor on either sides of the table. "Sit down."

The itako complied, gesturing to Kyoji to follow before stepping forward gracefully and kneeling for but a moment before sitting upon her legs, her body turned to face the owner of the chamber. Her sensu fan still obscured her face, her other hand hidden beneath the sleeve. Kyoji stayed quietly by her side, looking down at his clasped hands in his lap.

His presence did not escape Haruhiko's notice. "Who are you, boy?"

Kyoji twitched, and opened his mouth to speak before Takamura's sensu fan covered his mouth in an instant, preventing him from making any sound. The itako gazed calmly towards Haruhiko, not even bothering to glance at the surprised Kyoji. "He is my ward, and currently none of your concern. We have other matters to discuss."

Haruhiko gazed at her sternly before a small, almost bitter smile crept onto his face. "Another ward of yours, Takamura? Heh. You don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to wards, now do you? You know far better than I."

For the first time since Kyoji knew her, he felt Takamura tense. He felt a slight aura emitting from her -- anger? There was something that could get Takamura angry?

The priestess ignored his jab, bringing the sensu fan back to her face. "You'd do well not to disturb a sleeping dragon, Haruhiko-san. You may find it rather unwise." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, brow furrowing in displeasure. "If you're quite done, I must discuss that with you. I'm sure you recall what I am referring to."