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| - A day passed in the blink of an eye. A week soon after and even a month passed Kitsui by without him really being aware of it. Days melded together and the weeks seemed to wiz past and join together in one long blur. Yoshiaki Hiroshi was a tough man, but fair and his training and various chores filled Kitsui's hours until the sun set to signal night. The two sat around a small wooden table in Yoshiaki's home nestled in the mountains some distance away from the town he had met the grizzled Shinigami in when he randomly entered The Nest Bar. They watched the television while eating a bowl of warm soup and a few crusty rolls. The rugby was on, and right now, the team in black where hammering the team in blue. Yoshiaki cursed and crumpled up his betting slip, cursing about "stupid odds" before rising and tossing more wood onto the fire blazing in at the end of the room, turning off the television with a muffled curse. The living area was spacious and unadorned, save for a picture of a beautiful young woman with flowing blond hair and a slim figure. She wore a dress that exposed her neck and the top of her breasts, though her smile was radiant. It was Yoshiaki's departed wive, who died from a hollow attack some ten years back. "Come on lad," The elder said, ducking out into the night, "we need some more firewood." Very much a humble man with a passion for farming, Kitsui was beginning to enjoy the warmth of a fire just as much as Yoshiaki had his entire life. He'd heard tell of this new oil heating system, but he'd felt the heat in The Nest when Yoshiaki took him back three weeks ago and a few nights besides, and nothing beat aside the chill like a good log fire. Besides, it wasn't as if Yoshiaki was backward or anything. He just had his preferences like any man had. Ducking out the door after his mentor, Kitsui lifted the chopping axe resting against the front door and removed the sleeve that guarded the blade against the elements. Their work was done quickly but carefully, the night of the moon and from the hanging lamp offering enough light for them to work. Their axes made a rhythmical cutting sound as they set aside their cut logs and set up another and then another. Always the same repetition over and over. Kitsui still remembered how Yoshiaki had first taught him how to chop wood properly, and his stance showed how he used what he had been taught. Kitsui found the whole process rather enjoyable. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was doing something productive that made a simple task like cutting wood so enjoyable, though there was more to it than that. His mind seemed to empty of all troubles when he set his mind on the task at hand, whether that be herding the various sheep Yoshiaki owned, tiling the soul of his humble farm house, or cutting wood as he was now. He was one with the axe in his hand and he moved with a purpose he'd never felt in his entire life. "That should be enough," Yoshiaki said, snapping Kitsui out of his trance. The sky had darkened and the stars were out. Had it been that long? There was a massive pile of wooden logs leaning against the wall of the house and Yoshiaki wore a smile that said he was pleased. "That should keep me in timber all winter," He joked, hustling the youngster back to the warmth of the fire. "... I lost all track of time," Kitsui breathed, hands shaking from the quickness of his exertion. The older man only laughed as he lowered himself to sit cross-legged in front of the fire. Throwing in the timbers and poking it with the metal poker, he simply shook his head. "Work boy," He said, laughing a little, "when you work and enjoy work, you do it all the better. Its the same with your training," His eyes reflected the embers, "when you enjoy a task and take pleasure in it, times becomes meaningless as long as your doing it. I knew I;d find a use for you." The two sat in front of the fire, talking about meaningless things all through the night. It was strange, Kitsui thought as he climbed the stairs to hit his bed. "What is this I'm feeling?" The only person he'd ever been close to before was Shagetsu, and that was because he was a constant companion; a voice of reason, a shoulder to cry on and quick with advice in a difficult situation. "Its called friendship," Shagetsu answered, sounding pleased, "it means your opening up and learning to trust in others aside from me. Remember the bond you have created Kitsui... because one day, you may have to fight with every fiber of your being to preserve it." Friendship? Kitsui liked that idea. Yoshiaki was like the father he'd never had. He stopped and turned to see the older man walking past the bottom of the stairs. Without thinking, Kitsui hurled himself down them and threw his arms around the older man. No words were said, and Yoshiaki grinned, with a single tear running down his cheek. "Bah. Off to bed with you now," He whipped his face and nodded, "I'll see you in the morning."
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