Logs:Koki

Koki
Dramatis Personae Daiki, Lucien
In Absentia	2020-12-19 "Not quite the kind of evergreen most people are putting up this time of year, but it's perfect for me."
Location <NYC> Omakase - East Village
The establishment is small and easily overlooked, marked solely by black calligraphy of its name in both English and Japanese on a white ground where it is wedged between a retro ice cream parlor and a vintage boutique. Inside, the restaurant is appointed in tasteful but plain black and white with occasional judicious use of red, the decoration consisting primarily of sumi-e scrolls. An elegant long bar invites interested patrons to watch the sushi chefs at work, and besides this there is only space for a single row of booths plus a few cafe tables at the front. Tucked at the very back, past the restrooms and kitchen and available only by specific request, is a washitsu whose plain rice-paper doors conceal a startling departure from the austere appearance outside. The tatami and the low table ringed with zabuton are standard enough, if high quality, but the walls are adorned with colorful and evocative ukiyo-e prints depicting actors, warriors, courtesans, and monsters of Japanese legend. Hundreds of paper cranes dangle from the ceiling on strings of varying lengths, swaying gently in the faint breeze from the circulation vent. The small restaurant is filled tonight, but back here it's peaceful. The doors don't shut out all the chatter from the main dining room but they do screen off prying eyes or stray interest and leave the washitsu's current occupants to eat unmolested. So far the food has been plentiful, and excellent, a drawn-out affair whose dozenth or so dish is just now getting delivered to the table. Lucien's thanks to the waiter is quiet. He seems in no hurry to start in on the eel that has just been set before him, content for the moment to just take a small sip of his sake and relax. Dressed in neatly tailored grey linen vest over deep pink button down, grey linen trousers, his shoes and outerwear are nowhere in sight. Nearby stands a box wrapped neat in a furoshiki in abstract wave designs, the tails styled into a carrying handle at the top; with a leisurely meal to occupy them he's been in no rush with that either, but nudges it nearer Daiki now. "I did have half a mind to deliver it Thursday, but I imagined Shane was keeping you well busy already." Sitting seiza across from Lucien, Daiki is dressed neat if casual by his standards in a light blue oxford shirt, a black skinny tie tucked into a deep purple vest with subtle embossed strikes, and black slacks. His glossy black hair is gathered into a low pony tail and his eyes are keen behind his glasses -- they dip with his thanks to the server. "I did have a lovely birthday, but yes, it was quite...eventful." His smile is not exactly mysterious. Not exactly. "I would not have snubbed a belated gift from you regardless, but I know you've been well busy, yourself." He does not pursue this, though, only pulls the box over to unwrap it, his excitement sensible as a baselessly compelling ripple in the power he keeps carefully tamped down -- though less so in his present company than most. "Eventful." Lucien echoes this with a small twitch pulling brief at one side of his mouth. "I am glad it was the pleasant sort, at least. Eventful in our circles has run the gamut, lately." His posture is already extremely upright but it brightens all the same as Daiki unwraps the cloth, a keener attentiveness to his eyes. The stiff cardboard lid of the box underneath is not taped, but intricately folded so that it unfurls like a flower to reveal a tiny Japanese black pine held securely in place by a shaped foam block. Its gnarled trunk twists upward, sending one graceful branch out opposite its direction of growth, both tipped with healthy clusters of green needles. It is rooted in an oblong raku pot, black with a depth of swirling colors, the soil mossy and dotted with smooth river stones. The card tucked in along with it is small, heavy handmade paper in a watery ripple of blue tones. On it, not Lucien's casual handwriting but an elegantly calligraphed note that reads: It's a strange sort of hobby, when you think about it. No matter how much time and care you spend pouring your heart into a plant, it is quite unlikely to love you back. I trust this will not be a problem for you, and wish you many (unrequited) years more. -L.T. Daiki's eyes widen with delight, his control slipping yet again before he reflexively gathers his excitement back in, though even set half loose his power is little more than an annoyance to Lucien. He picks up the card first, his gaze flicking up from it to the other man after he reads it, his expression skewing into a crooked smile even as his eyes go a little bright. "I like the idea of a pet that's immune to me," he says softly, setting the card aside and carefully lifting the little potted tree out of the box and setting it on the table between them. "Kind of like the idea of one that might outlive me, too. Especially these days." He swallows, but smiles again when he looks at the bonsai. The low flutter of his power is subtle, this time. "Thank you." A faint dusting of pink colors Lucien's cheeks, and his hum is soft and pleased. He lowers his eyes, cradling his cup carefully as he takes another sip. "Well," he allows, mildly, "it will only outlive you with proper care. I know several people who have killed their first bonsai." He considers this a moment, studying Daiki thoughtfully as he sets his cup back down. "-- Admittedly, none of them were you." Daiki picks up his own sake now and takes a sip, too. His laughter comes quiet -- both polite and genuine. "I shouldn't get too cocky, I don't know anything about caring for bonsai!" He tilts his head, regarding the tree again. "I wouldn't be surprised if you do, and you can be sure I'm going to find out. I hear it can be very meditative. One of those easy-to-learn, hard-to-master things?" The widening of his eyes is excited again. "Not quite the kind of evergreen most people are putting up this time of year, but it's perfect for me." "I know many things about caring for bonsai," Lucien assures Daiki, a quiet amusement colouring his voice as he continues, "-- I learned near all of them as I was choosing yours." His hand turns up, fingers spreading. "I have never cared for one myself. I am quite keen to see how yours grows. From the sound of it they --" The beat of hesitation here is small. "-- can be quite relaxing." Daiki's laugh is less quiet this time, more startled. "I was just racking my brain about whether I'd ever seen one at your house, and thinking it seems like the kind of hobby you'd be into." His thoughtful gaze flicks up from the bonsai to Lucien. "Maybe too into? But fear not, I will be true to type for a tiny tree dad of our generation and put this all over social media." He drains his cup but lifts the tokkuri to refil Lucien's instead, his smile just a little touch sheepish if no less pleased. "You will have as much vicarious bonsai-tending as you can handle soon enough." "I would be very into a bonsai. I would be very into many bonsai. My Kindle would fill with books on bonsai." Lucien dips his head in thanks; he's just started to reach for his chopsticks but sets them carefully back down to take the flask and fill Daiki's cup as well. "Its very own insta." He sounds well pleased with this, a warmth crinkling at his eyes. ""What will you name it? I want to be able to say I knew them when." "Just a forest of tiny trees sprouting up all over your house." Daiki is warming to this hypothetical. "Thank you." He starts to reach for his just-refreshed drink, but thinks better of it and smoothly re-routes to his chopsticks. "Exactly," he agrees readily, then poises his chopsticks for a moment as if he means to pluck a name out of the air. Suddenly he grins, the bubbling of mirth behind it riffling his control. It's a few seconds' deliberation before he settles, firmly, on, "Koki Daimatsu." "I would have to rehome my brothers," Lucien laments with a rueful shake of his head. "There are only so many available tiny tree surfaces in the house and some time after I quit my jobs to care for a Liliputian arboretum, we would certainly run out of space." He picks his chopsticks back up, eyes briefly pressing closed with his first small bite of eel. He lifts his other hand, palm hiding the laughter this answer wells up in him. "With luck, it will grow into its name with half so much style as you have."