（ that's so many words of unnecessary justification he neither cares for nor needed. it's becoming something of a habit with huaisang, he's noticing — this tendency to overexplain. he's silent a time, then: ）
[ the next day, as promised, comes another message. ]
Ah — hello? It's Nie Huaisang, again. I should have everything that is needed, now. Will you meet me... uh, where can we try this? The armory? I've never actually been there, is it any good...
（ he won't respond again — instead, he's just there (early, because of course he is) waiting. he's dressed casually for the day, hair pulled up into a high, messy bun, clearly put that way while damp. he's wearing clothing that's soft and nondescript, but his shirt is a hideous electric shade of lime green which does not seem to suit him in the least (and which, conversely, he does not care one whit about).
he's fiddling with the machine on the pedestal, having used it at considerable length to build a variety of shinobi tools to his specifications. he's drafted several iterations of his own, saved as temporary drafts on the machine's console. he knows huaisang had mentioned wishing to design his own, but he has knows several shinobi throughout his life who specialized in tessen, and he is no stranger to the concept of channeling chakra through them. it is possible that they can come together to select elements from a variety of designs to come up with a superior product, or try the variations and scrap what does not function as intended.
whenever huaisang enters, the only indication of itachi's awareness that he is not alone is a faint cant of his head off to one side, as if he has suddenly split his focus. ）
[ so rings his entering statement, sounding surprised — which he isn't, not really, based on what he knows of itachi. ]
Thank you for agreeing to help me with this. [ huaisang stops before him, and gives him a formal bow, before straightening and showing him his own designs; carefully, at first, but with a little more fire when itachi shares his... his main objection to them is that they are too utilitarian. he wants his fan to be capable of fight, yes, but why sacrifice on the beauty? ]
（ it's said automatically, his perennial deflection. the bow goes unremarked upon, even if there is a brief moment where something tightens in his jaw. it's good, then, when they switch to the fan designs. something else to draw focus.
for all intents and purposes, they tinker. by the end of the hour there is a discarded pile of fans binned into the scrap metal recycling, and itachi cants his head to one side faintly at the latest iteration of the design on the screen, tapping at a few additional commands. ）
That image you liked. Acid or laser etching might work to transfer it. I don't think this machine is fine enough for that, but there might be something in the lab.
[ the image he wishes to be transferred to the fan is, for all intents and purposes, not an easy one — high mountains, blanketing a sturdy fortress on both sides, rising high above it. on the slopes of the mountains, there are hints of trees, perhaps even a brook, a line of ink that twists and turns just as water would, down the mountainside.
it is qinghe — a reminder for what he is fighting for.
he taps his (normal) fan on his palm. ]
If you say so... I wonder if it would be possible to make it red?
[ the etching. chifeng-zun, his brother had been known as — to pay homage to him, the red blade master, would be only appropriate. ]
I believe the etching would have to be done without colour. But you would be able to add one afterwards, with paint or lacquer. Depending on its use, you may need to redo it periodically.
（ he can do art in a functional sense of the word, replicating something into an aesthetic form, but he has no eye for the sort of art for art's sake that so many people speak of. not a creative man, itachi — at least within the bounds of such pursuits. ）
Wei Wuxian may have some ideas. Perhaps he could design an array to colour it as well.
Ah — Wei-xiong definitely could do it! I'll ask him.
[ he delivers the words with a thoughtless belief, like he doesn't even think to question there might be something wei wuxian can't do; someone relying on their much smarter friend, or so it seems.
but then, he looks at the design, his innocent excitement falling away as though a mask that is changed to another, in such quick succession it's hard to spot. ]
... It's Qinghe, [ he says, a non-sequitur to a question that was never asked, ] My home. I thought... well. My brother was called Chifeng-zun. [ barely a second later, itachi receives the following as a message: 赤锋尊. if he cannot understand the spoken word, perhaps the written helps. ]
So the red... the fan will have its own blades, so I thought, what better than for it to be the fan of red blades? Even though I'll hardly become a master in using it.
（ he doesn't recognize the second of the characters, though he thinks it is perhaps an antiquated version of 鋒 that he is unaccustomed to seeing in this context. still, he takes the meaning contextually, and nods. shinobi are no strangers to titles that reflect their prowess and accomplishments. ）
It's meant to honour him. （ he concludes aloud, certain enough of what he says to voice it. ） You do not need to master it for that to be true.
He would think differently, [ huaisang says with a smile that is as self-deprecating as it is sorrowful — what wouldn't he give, to have da-ge shouting at him in disappointment, just one more time? ]
He was always displeased with me, with how little I did, how little I wanted to do. I was never good with the saber, so I didn't see the point in trying. What I was good at — painting, caring for my birds, poetry... those aren't what the Nie are known for. We're warriors. Do not abide evil.
[ their sect motto, recited. ] And da-ge... he was like no one else. His saber quick and sharp, his judgement swift, his mind just and fair.
[ shaking his head a little, huaisang turns to itachi with a smile, still, one that at the same time looks entirely honest and like a well-crafted lie. ] I only told you his title, that was remiss of me. His name was Nie Mingjue... and as much of a disappointment as I may have been to him in life, I refuse to be so any longer. If I couldn't appease him in life, I will endeavour to fight so that his spirit may rest.
It is the duty of those that fight to make space for those who wish to paint and write poetry. Your other pursuits are worthwhile, even if they are not what your clan expects of you.
（ his tone is soft, sombre. not everyone can be a soldier, or a shinobi. he had known no other life, and had never protested the violence it yielded, but now that he is older and has spent nearly a year removed from it — he wonders what his world may have looked like if instead he had turned away from that path. ）
But if you would like to improve your technique, I can assist in training. I am not entirely a stranger to this method of combat.
... maybe. But not when your entire sect is warriors. That's what we're known for.
[ wryly said. and then, with a self-deprecation that somehow doesn't quite match up with his guileless, babbling personality, ] Well, we used to be, anyway. I may have ruined a lot of the reputation we had.
[ he laughs, but there is little humour in it. it was all for a purpose, multiple purposes, and yet. how da-ge would hate it. ]
... would you? You've already done so much, Uchiha-xiong. I'd hate to trouble you for more... but I really might need the help.
（ he does understand it — the pressure and conformity of a clan's expectations, set all too young onto the shoulders of those expected to build its future. but while there exists no resentment in him for how that pressure shaped his life, there is value to be had in others pursuing freedom his life did not afford.
still, there is no point to discussing or dwelling on it. instead — ）
Itachi.
（ it's corrective. no titles. ）
It isn't any trouble. I already spend a great deal of my time training — teaching someone else is simply a different sort of it for me.
[ somehow, the multiple question marks come easily through his tone, only reinforced by the dismayed face he makes. ]
That's even earlier than when the Lan wake up... are you crazy? Don't you sleep at all? Not even da-ge started to train so early! Ahh... can't I come in a little later? 0700.... 0800?
（ he has been willing to demonstrate mercy for others — but huaisang's culture is too close to his own for him to be willing to extend the same in this instance. ）
I leave at 0800. If you arrive any time between those four hours, I will train you. If not, I will program something into the simulation room for you to use at your leisure, with the understanding it will not be as effective as the real thing.
（ a bit of a Look. it looks neutral enough... but there's some judgment there, too. ）
One cannot always choose the time a battle finds you. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to break out of your routine as a form of training itself.
[ in his hand, huaisang's regular fan has been open for a while, now; he flips it closed with something resembling a slap. ]
Do you know, da-ge always yelled at me when I didn't want to practice, and it never got to me at all — our cousin, Nie Zonghui, he had a far more efficient method. He just looked all disappointed, and I hated that.
[ it sounds like a non-sequitur, until huaisang looks at itachi and says, somewhat accusingly, ] You sound just like him.
[ a huff. ] Fine. I won't be there at four, but I'll be there before eight.
[ in the suddenly-empty room, huaisang looks around, eyes wide — and then huffs, entirely exasperated, ]
I can't believe that guy! How is Wei-xiong such good friends with him?
[ and then, immediately after, ] What I am saying, of course Wei-xiong has found the weirdest possible friend he could and managed to annoy himself into becoming his friend. Right, well. I guess that's one way of escaping conversations.
[ and then he leaves, too, to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, thankyouverymuch. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yes.
When?
no subject
Wait, what?
I mean — whenever! Uh... tomorrow? I think I'll be able to gather the materials and make the rough design by then.
no subject
Contact me again when you have made arrangements.
（ and in the interim... ）
no subject
Ah — hello? It's Nie Huaisang, again. I should have everything that is needed, now. Will you meet me... uh, where can we try this? The armory? I've never actually been there, is it any good...
no subject
（ he won't respond again — instead, he's just there (early, because of course he is) waiting. he's dressed casually for the day, hair pulled up into a high, messy bun, clearly put that way while damp. he's wearing clothing that's soft and nondescript, but his shirt is a hideous electric shade of lime green which does not seem to suit him in the least (and which, conversely, he does not care one whit about).
he's fiddling with the machine on the pedestal, having used it at considerable length to build a variety of shinobi tools to his specifications. he's drafted several iterations of his own, saved as temporary drafts on the machine's console. he knows huaisang had mentioned wishing to design his own, but he has knows several shinobi throughout his life who specialized in tessen, and he is no stranger to the concept of channeling chakra through them. it is possible that they can come together to select elements from a variety of designs to come up with a superior product, or try the variations and scrap what does not function as intended.
whenever huaisang enters, the only indication of itachi's awareness that he is not alone is a faint cant of his head off to one side, as if he has suddenly split his focus. ）
no subject
[ so rings his entering statement, sounding surprised — which he isn't, not really, based on what he knows of itachi. ]
Thank you for agreeing to help me with this. [ huaisang stops before him, and gives him a formal bow, before straightening and showing him his own designs; carefully, at first, but with a little more fire when itachi shares his... his main objection to them is that they are too utilitarian. he wants his fan to be capable of fight, yes, but why sacrifice on the beauty? ]
no subject
（ it's said automatically, his perennial deflection. the bow goes unremarked upon, even if there is a brief moment where something tightens in his jaw. it's good, then, when they switch to the fan designs. something else to draw focus.
for all intents and purposes, they tinker. by the end of the hour there is a discarded pile of fans binned into the scrap metal recycling, and itachi cants his head to one side faintly at the latest iteration of the design on the screen, tapping at a few additional commands. ）
That image you liked. Acid or laser etching might work to transfer it. I don't think this machine is fine enough for that, but there might be something in the lab.
no subject
it is qinghe — a reminder for what he is fighting for.
he taps his (normal) fan on his palm. ]
If you say so... I wonder if it would be possible to make it red?
[ the etching. chifeng-zun, his brother had been known as — to pay homage to him, the red blade master, would be only appropriate. ]
no subject
（ he can do art in a functional sense of the word, replicating something into an aesthetic form, but he has no eye for the sort of art for art's sake that so many people speak of. not a creative man, itachi — at least within the bounds of such pursuits. ）
Wei Wuxian may have some ideas. Perhaps he could design an array to colour it as well.
no subject
[ he delivers the words with a thoughtless belief, like he doesn't even think to question there might be something wei wuxian can't do; someone relying on their much smarter friend, or so it seems.
but then, he looks at the design, his innocent excitement falling away as though a mask that is changed to another, in such quick succession it's hard to spot. ]
... It's Qinghe, [ he says, a non-sequitur to a question that was never asked, ] My home. I thought... well. My brother was called Chifeng-zun. [ barely a second later, itachi receives the following as a message: 赤锋尊. if he cannot understand the spoken word, perhaps the written helps. ]
So the red... the fan will have its own blades, so I thought, what better than for it to be the fan of red blades? Even though I'll hardly become a master in using it.
no subject
It's meant to honour him. （ he concludes aloud, certain enough of what he says to voice it. ） You do not need to master it for that to be true.
no subject
He was always displeased with me, with how little I did, how little I wanted to do. I was never good with the saber, so I didn't see the point in trying. What I was good at — painting, caring for my birds, poetry... those aren't what the Nie are known for. We're warriors. Do not abide evil.
[ their sect motto, recited. ] And da-ge... he was like no one else. His saber quick and sharp, his judgement swift, his mind just and fair.
[ shaking his head a little, huaisang turns to itachi with a smile, still, one that at the same time looks entirely honest and like a well-crafted lie. ] I only told you his title, that was remiss of me. His name was Nie Mingjue... and as much of a disappointment as I may have been to him in life, I refuse to be so any longer. If I couldn't appease him in life, I will endeavour to fight so that his spirit may rest.
no subject
It is the duty of those that fight to make space for those who wish to paint and write poetry. Your other pursuits are worthwhile, even if they are not what your clan expects of you.
（ his tone is soft, sombre. not everyone can be a soldier, or a shinobi. he had known no other life, and had never protested the violence it yielded, but now that he is older and has spent nearly a year removed from it — he wonders what his world may have looked like if instead he had turned away from that path. ）
But if you would like to improve your technique, I can assist in training. I am not entirely a stranger to this method of combat.
no subject
[ wryly said. and then, with a self-deprecation that somehow doesn't quite match up with his guileless, babbling personality, ] Well, we used to be, anyway. I may have ruined a lot of the reputation we had.
[ he laughs, but there is little humour in it. it was all for a purpose, multiple purposes, and yet. how da-ge would hate it. ]
... would you? You've already done so much, Uchiha-xiong. I'd hate to trouble you for more... but I really might need the help.
no subject
still, there is no point to discussing or dwelling on it. instead — ）
Itachi.
（ it's corrective. no titles. ）
It isn't any trouble. I already spend a great deal of my time training — teaching someone else is simply a different sort of it for me.
no subject
Ah, fine, fine! But in any case... thank you. I will continue to take up your time, then.
[ and if he makes a concession with how to call itachi, he doesn't do so for how to thank him; he bows, his fingers closed over his fist. ]
no subject
（ at least he's aware it's... an Ask. ）
no subject
[ somehow, the multiple question marks come easily through his tone, only reinforced by the dismayed face he makes. ]
That's even earlier than when the Lan wake up... are you crazy? Don't you sleep at all? Not even da-ge started to train so early! Ahh... can't I come in a little later? 0700.... 0800?
no subject
（ he has been willing to demonstrate mercy for others — but huaisang's culture is too close to his own for him to be willing to extend the same in this instance. ）
I leave at 0800. If you arrive any time between those four hours, I will train you. If not, I will program something into the simulation room for you to use at your leisure, with the understanding it will not be as effective as the real thing.
（ a bit of a Look. it looks neutral enough... but there's some judgment there, too. ）
One cannot always choose the time a battle finds you. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to break out of your routine as a form of training itself.
no subject
[ in his hand, huaisang's regular fan has been open for a while, now; he flips it closed with something resembling a slap. ]
Do you know, da-ge always yelled at me when I didn't want to practice, and it never got to me at all — our cousin, Nie Zonghui, he had a far more efficient method. He just looked all disappointed, and I hated that.
[ it sounds like a non-sequitur, until huaisang looks at itachi and says, somewhat accusingly, ] You sound just like him.
[ a huff. ] Fine. I won't be there at four, but I'll be there before eight.
no subject
Very well. I will see you then.
（ and on that note, he's just. gone???
he's gone.
ninjas, man. can't trust 'em. ）
no subject
I can't believe that guy! How is Wei-xiong such good friends with him?
[ and then, immediately after, ] What I am saying, of course Wei-xiong has found the weirdest possible friend he could and managed to annoy himself into becoming his friend. Right, well. I guess that's one way of escaping conversations.
[ and then he leaves, too, to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, thankyouverymuch. ]
no subject