The crimson cup (Shinkaku Station, Exiles and friends)

[Char Aznable]

//Suggested music, first two minutes (always open for better propositions)

Shinkaku is never quiet. It is always filled with miners, with businessmen. The crumped corridors are full, and even the large installation that is Shinkaku only has room for two areas that could be called a "bar". One, the "MTaSB", which is not really creatively named, is the one where most deals are struck. But that's not where you went.
You went to section R-12. With Shinkaku being a quite big station, there come many... Unused areas, hallways without any supervision or forgotten storage areas that should have been removed or repurposed years ago, but for some not perfectly obvious reason still are powered and operational. The way down here was full of dust, and weren't it for the strict hygiene on Kusari stations, you are sure that there would have been cobwebs everywhere. No one goes here. At least not without a reason.
The room is actually kind of big and empty, given the fact that it is a bar and should therefore be crowded as hell, but no, actually only three of the benches are used and the barkeeper is talking with another guest, cleaning the bar and generally seems not that stressed.
As you set foot in the room, the few voices stop. Everyone looks to you, mustering you from head to toe. Two men, wearing old KNF uniforms with Obi-Belts, carrying their swords openly (You are sure that they don't do so out of this room, but here, they look quite menacing.) seem to evaluate if you are a threat, and then move on to stare at the entrance.
You notice that almost everyone here wears the insignia of a Samurai of the old imperial Navy. There is nothing stopping people from visiting here if they have no business with them, but it generally seems like they don't accept Gaijin here - although it is more a general atmosphere than an outspoken fact.
You step to the bar, taking a look around. It is ghostlike, with everyone looking at you, but as you turn to the barkeeper to order a drink, the conversations slowly begin to start again.

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#notmyfrankfurt

[Char Aznable]

Hitomi walks into the room, mustering the two guards at the entrance. Her face looks like stone, she shows no emotional connection to anyone here.
She steps to the Barkeeper, bowing and whispering some short words. It seems she buys nothing, just seats herself in the back right corner of the bar, observing almost the entire room with just one glimps up. Looking down on her datapad, she seems to be absent, waiting for something.

[Tsuzumi Mori]

Tsuzumi had little naught in his life; most of his time was taken by the patrols and polishing his fighter - not no mention fiddling around with Tomozoru. With Black Dragon Casino being practically out of his reach, he rushed into Shinkaku Station as soon as he heard that recent shipments also included several games. One of them was Mahjong - in which his life had been bet few times in the past two years.

He have been spending his time idly at the table, slowly tapping is feet to the music.

"Looks like I ended this round, again."

"NANI?! How the hell you...!"

The groan of the young Kusari could be heard almost in the whole bar. The reason behind that - he have lost, again, against local pro in Riichi Mahjong*. This time however, he lost good chuck of the money, that was his weekly pay.

"It looks like you lost again, Mori-kun," one of the tux-wearing men said steadily, eyeing the Tsuzumi's behaviour. "I can't help it, our player is very strong."

"And lucky today!" exclaimed the man that won good chuck of money against young Exile, then put the paper from his pocket. Paying in way like this was to be assured that shady Hogosha deals would never be noticed by local authorities. Even if the base was way outside the Kusari Core Territory.

The young loser had no other way but to sign the paper - he lost several million credits in this game, once again, what was a bad thing for the petty low-rank officer. Shortly after signing, he pushed paper forward to the Hogosha gambler.

"See? That wasn't that hard, boya**."

"I see no further round today, anyway... I'm out of cash." Tsuzumi stood up and peeked over two other players. They lost money as well, at least the other player that was supposed to be his game partner - but he knew that all except him were in the band. If they lost money, they did not care usually - they were to bait poor players and even worse gamblers, of course.

"Sure, have your money," murmurred the young boy. "But one day I'll return here and beat up your damn arse!"

"Of course you will!" the man held his laugh, but failed miserably. "Out with you, NEXT!"

Without even bowing a bit, the young Kusarian had rushed to the exit with intention of leaving the station. Instead, he crashed with someone inside the door. Of course, known for his hot-headed attitude after losing a game, he spilled out with even thinking: "Teme, watch how you-!"

In the very same moment he said these words, he stood up in place and saluted hastily with pure mixture of surprise and fear inside his eyes.

"S-Sakuma Sensei!"


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APPENDIX
*Riichi Mahjong is a Japanese version of the four player game called Mahjong - which is similiar to the rummy-family game with skills needed akin to those in Poker. Riichi is mostly distinguished by the minimal random, almost mathematical, factor of all game variants throughrough the world - and based mostly more onto skills than intuition and luck.

**Term boya was a popular wasei-eigo (the borrowing from foreign language, such as Renzu = Lens) word equivalent to the "boy", especially in the late 40s and all 50s in Japan.

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[Char Aznable]

Hitomi looks surprised at first, then a bit angry. The collision with the young pilot spilled her just now ordered drink over her shoes, as her reflexes had allowed a short jump backwards, to protect the fresh uniform.
She looks to Mori. Her eyes seem to fixate him, and for a short moment you could even believe her to be taller than the young man.
The moment she looks at him seems to be long, and every person in the immediate vicinity steps back a bit, awaiting the Admiral to yell at Mori, as she is known to be quite a harsh leader, especially when disturbed.
Instead of yelling at him or losing her temper, she begins to speak. Quietly, almost whispering, but every person in the vicinity hears it.

"Mori-Kun. I see you're enjoying yourself."

Every word drips like melting ice from her lips, managing to be intimidating without even a single raising of her voice. She stems her arms onto her hips, apparently imitating a gesture she seems to have seen in Bretonia or at least somewhere more western, and awaiting Mori's response.

Quietly, the barkeeper moves into her direction, a new cup of Sake in his hand, possibly to calm Hitomi down.

[Tsuzumi Mori]

Tsuzumi looks over her with open mouth. The only sound he can make is something unaudible. It takes him a fast moment to gather up himself and to speak up quietly.

"I... I am sorry for all this, sensei."

He can feel the unbearable cold of her, as if it started to reach his heart and soul. Good job, he thinks. You ended up yelling over your superior and spilling drink over her shoes. You are done for it, imbecile! He has been looking down at the point of her neck with shame, not being able to even look up into her eyes - despite the fact that both Exiles were rather short than tall.

He looks the barkeeper, keeping an eye on him and not moving his own head even an inch. The other man rushed to the lady with a new drink and apologises her a bit - even though it was not his fault. A typical behaviour in Kusari, right to be said.

And young Mori? He can not speak any other word. He just watches whole scene as if he was not present here. Yet he has the feeling that everyone are looking at him in silence. Even the gambling table back there went mute.

The unbearable respect for Miss Sakuma is something to be felt in the whole room.

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[Char Aznable]

Hitomi takes the Sake offered by the barkeeper, notices him and dismisses him (and his apologies) with a short nod, again looking at the young noble in front of her. And just as the silence becomes unbearable, she begins to speak again, fixating on Mori's Reaction and stepping a bit to the side, appearing to start circling around the man like a vulture around his prey.

"So. How exactly do you explain this, Mori-Kun?"

She doesn't say more, just continues to circle in small, slow steps, as if there is no reason to rush things. Her intention seems clouded, although the humiliation of Mori in front of the whole bar, even some of his subordinate officers, seems to be at least a part of it.

Back in the room, whispering starts. It's not loud, and not much, but the general silence makes it audible, although barely, so it isn't possible to tell who is whispering or about what.

[Tsuzumi Mori]

Tsuzumi still remembers the beating he had one time from his superior - not Hitomi, thankfully - for sleeping on duty. He gulps a bit and looks at the wall, ignoring the fact that she was circling around him. He started to sweat however, but he ignores this as well.

"I start losing in the game, madam." He tries to cope with that very neutrally, as nothing like this happened before. His voice becomes more confident, right after he takes a deep breath. "I became a bit hot-headed, Sakuma-sama; losing my money and... That is all I believe."

He is aware of the voices around, but he is already ignoring them, being able to focus onto his superior - a thing that he have learnt some time ago to improve his close-combat skills. And learning, of course.

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[Char Aznable]

Hitomi stops, a bit to the right of her subordinate. She just stands there taking a sip, watching the little pearls of sweat rinning down Mori's forehead. About a minute she just stands there, watching the young man, who is desperately trying to stand attention.

"And do you know what your mistake was?"

A very simple question, spoken in a tone of curiosity, but still not raising her voice.

The whispering in the background gets louder, more specific. Behind Mori's back, not visible for him, someone even points at him, giggling into his other hand - The player he just lost against. A short, frosty word from the man behind him, who got Tsuzumi's money, makes the player shut up faster than he started laughing, though.

[Leslie Durant]

It was like she had stepped into another world.

Leslie Durant glanced around the establishment with barely concealed interest. The core components of a bar were present, but the formula had been turned on it's head. The presence of armed men wearing swords was the biggest surprise to her, however.

What age are they living in...?

She shrugged, rolling her shoulders to accommodate an ache. In here, she'd stand out like a sore thumb, being both tall and obviously foreign. But it was the only good pitstop for hours in either direction, as the Nagasaki had nothing in the way of entertainment. Apart from the very stoic looking men and women.

That never gets old...

There is an altercation in progress on the other side of the room, but she pays it relatively little mind. She didn't come here to interfere in a bar brawl. Instead, she made her way to the Bartender, or what seemed like one at least.

"Just Sake," She said, knowing full well that it was the only thing they'd likely have any good stock of.

[Tsuzumi Mori]

Tsuzumi takes another breath, then rethinks his position. "My mistake was to mistake you for another visitor, Sakuma-sama." The reply is a swift and fast, as if he regained the upper hand in no time - as if he hit the bottom just to jump up again. This boy have some guts, some could say.

Just a moment ago it was a young and presummably hopeless boy. Now he was like the full-blooded and cold officer, clearing out his throat.

"I can say my mistake. I should not get out of the touch with my stance, I believe. Not with such high rank. Not as officer. I should keep my mind steady and my thinking cold, even if I lose," he says slowly, but not with a tone that kept him "chained" to the superior's scolding. "I should not lost my temper at any occasion, Sakuma Sensei.


Shortly after, he peeks at the person who just entered into the room, again, not moving his head even an inch: a quick glance to the side with his eyes.

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