Satoru's grip was strange solid and firm but also cool his affinity for immovable earth yet strength with adaptable water had always been a strange contradiction.

He watches her closely and then mirrors her almost perfectly fake fan and all he seemed less uncertain than he had been a moment before "I do not remember if I told you I prefer classic artworks music, plays, and dances." He said before venturing forward with his own moves arms sweeping and steps moving around the Ospery his eyes trained on her though giving her back the lead.

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D7 fluff dance roll: 3d10o10k2 24

An eyebrow lifts. "You did not. And..." her eyes sweep up and down as he moves, professionally evaluating, "your instincts are good, nothing loose, a relaxed balance."

A little less rudimentary then, eyes alight. "Then you may well have seen depictions of the harvest dance that's...I think at least half the public classes I've sat in taught it at some point, certainly the shrines to Ebisu perform it all the time." The fan sweeps up, held overhead to shade the eyes, mimicking the broad straw hats as Mumei dips in a stylized movement that almost certainly expects her to have long, swinging sleeves. That twist of her bare arm would make a great deal more sense with the gentle sway it would add to such a sleeve.

It is, indeed an old dance, the movements mimicking the steps of rice harvesting, fan artfully becoming whatever prop makes sense. It is held two-handed in the final phrase of the dance's 'chorus' to toss the imaginary rice into the air for the breeze to winnow the chaf away. Mumei doesn't speak as she offers each of those main movements for him to follow, making sure they share a language before trying to write poems with it.

"I have always trusted my instincts Nakauchi-san." He said before observing her movements and following along mirroring her more or less with precision matching her sweep for sweep changing as she did. Letting his inner water take over flowing in response to her current.

"I have seen it once or twice." He replies as he begins to follow less and mirror more falling into her rhythm and groove his cold analytical eyes thawing a bit as they moved together and they never left the form of the Osprey for a second.

"Of course," she noted with a smile. "Back in the old days, fashion would have been much different for me, and for gender roles, I could never have considered the women here as well as the men."

"True enough, and I suspect that if things were like the past it would make some matches much more difficult. "

"As it is though we are left with more options, though i suspect not everyone is considering them."

"No, I imagine not. There are certainly plenty of men looking merely for wives, and women for husbands. I've always appreciated both men and women, and everything between, but there are more than enough women around if that's all you need. I promise not to steal too many away Tsuruchi-san."

Despite her slight tease, she was a bit more serious a moment later. "I'm willing to help you out even if you wish. I know things are late in the proceedings really, but still."

"Oh, you can try if you wish Asahina-sama." Hayato offered with a smirk. "I'd honestly like to see you at work."

He gave his glass on the table a quarter turn before lifting it towards his lips. "Thank you, Asahina-sama. Though I think I can manage, and even if I don't there are always options at the end of this."

She downed her drink's remains and stood up, smiling. "I've no doubt, but the offer still stands. Here, my number."

Fusako borrowed a pen from the barkeep and wrote her comm number on a napkin. Wheelie it over to Hayato before blowing a kiss and making her way off for bed.

He smirked at that, tucking the piece of paper into his pocket as he recieved it.

"Ii'll remeber that then. Sweet Dreams, Asahina-sama." He called after here as she departed.

As they circle one another, his proficiency allows her the freedom to stretch into the nuances of the ancient, formal movements, a pleased smile . As one story winds down and a shamisen interlude begins, she ads, "and since we are not actually 12th century peasants celebrating the harvest, or even 12th century samurai, it can be brought into a more modern idiom."

The homeworld once held entire nations of people outside of Rokugan, none of which survived into the Celestial Era. But as Mumei begins to translate the ancient folk dances forward, there are hints of he sinuous, scandalous dances that were once performed in Medinat al-Salaam, perhaps a remnant of Ivindi temple dances in the new movements that only make sense for two visible legs rather than ones shrouded in kimono. The movements remain slow, well suited to the shamisen and to this mirrored leading without touch for cues.

The invisible fan remains solidly in hand, lending graceful weight to the sweep and arc of her arm, the movements remaining precise, but not as crisp as before. It becomes less a symbolic depiction of actual rice-growing and more a celebration of that dance tradition wrapped around those old forms.

There's a point between them that stands as a common center to the swirl of their dance. A gentle low swoop turns into a spin away from that center, then she uses the turn back to closer, finishing the movement with empty hand upraised at the midpoint, palm toward herself, elbow slightly bent, eyes shining with the joy of movement and perhaps some challenge as the mirrored move would bring them to link arms at the elbow, palm to palm.

An actual smile began to touch his lips as they swirled and danced around each other like two currents meeting in the ocean, hot and cold, passion and precision moving around one another. Mumei leading as she had the knowledge but Satoru following in near perfect imitation.

As she deviated from the traditional he relied even more on his wits and quick mind to make up for his inexperience and less limber body. He made due well enough but it was clear the Mumei was the star and Satoru was merely a chunk of rock trapped by her gravity. Unable to move or look away from the Ospery, the background faded as she was in sharp focus, the music and his heartbeat the only sounds in his ears as they moved together.

Then she danced away and spun closer and without a second of hesitation he mimicked her, locked in by the elbow, his palm pressed into hers, his eyes locked on her own. The ice existed but was being melted away as the dance went on and she could see a fire in his almost black eyes. A fire lit by her own passion and a small smile on his lips, he was very removed from the aloof doctor she had seen the past week here.

Her own eyes blaze, locked on his, as he meets her where she lives. While that moment feels oddly still, their movement never pauses, gently circling that center. Mumei sweeps her 'fan' forward and up. If the movement is mirrored, and if one believes very solidly in the invisible fans' painted elegance, it would be a small and private space even on a crowded floor. "Thank you, Kuchiki-sama." Genuine joy and a gratitude at his willingness to leap into the unknown here.

She keeps this tiny tableau moving a few moments more, then a gentle tension of her hand against his, interlacing fingers for a sturdier grip, signals the start of a shift. The spray of waves replaced by air and fire as...the center moves. Still circling their shared center, but with steps that are less sedate glide and more exuberant leap, Mumei pulls that shared center across the floor, using the tension of their hold to guide them. She keeps her movement a bit smaller until she's sure he's got the feel of it and won't wrench a shoulder, planting her near foot a bit harder to brace when he's the one moving farther on their shared trajectory.

The fans remain up for now, 'hiding' their faces. Were they real, the pair would be moving with only peripheral vision to guide them as they trace a star's path through its galaxy, surging into an energetic movement of the music. Her eyes locked on his, shining in the dancing lights, breath coming faster with this more energetic figure.

"Satoru." he breaths as they dance and turn. It may have been their first 'date' but sharing something like this felt, personal. Besides they had lived together for the past week, personal names didn't feel out of order to him. He returns the pressure she gives their interlaced fingers and he is pulled along by her more energetic choreography, certainly outside the realm of anything remotely comfortable for the Spider but he never backed down, from anything. So he matched her steps grateful for her slow ramping into the higher difficulty moves.

When their movements bring them close together his voice is just barely audible over the music and crowd "and it is I who should thank you Nakauchi-san." the heat from her eyes reflected in his own, maybe more than one kind of heat "you're an excellent teacher."

A week ago, even a few days ago--when every intention was to hold thing lightly, to do this assigned dance of miai meetings and feel out the possibilities without getting too attached, knowing that final choices weren't going to be in her hands--she'd have taken hold and amped every kind of passion.

Instead, she acknowledges the intimacy with a nod and, "Mumei," fit into the breath needed to fuel movement, and acknowledges the passion she won't pursue with a smile grown gentle as she slows to match the shamisen's mood. "You're an inspiring student, Satoru." With more stately steps, the sweeps the 'fan' out and low, trailing with a delicate flutter that would add a charming bit of movement all the way to the edge of their figure, while opening up the center "You don't hold back."

With gentle pressure, the hold unwinds as they continue to circle, the dance floor mostly to themselves. There's nothing loose in her as that arm twists, elbow straightening, fingers entwined, forcing longer steps as their very bones push them apart into a wider circle.

"To hold something back would be a disservice to you and to myself. I came here to get to know you better Mumei-san, and in order to do that I threw my all into what you are passionate about." He explained with a smile on his lips as they moved through the dance. He could have gone on a bit but his breath was needed for dancing not talking.

She uses the gentle shamisen runs as an excuse to break the symmetric circling, making a slow twirl in beneath their joined hands as she lifts them, fingers disentangling in a seemingly natural way into something looser and more flexible. "I'm honored, truly." Another spin beneath to finish closing the distance, invisible fan held close and down to avoid accident as she completes the movement facing him. Pausing for a moment, then lifting the 'fan' off to the side, grinning, and 'discarding' it behind her as the continue slowly chasing the descending notes. "I'd like to see your passion, but...not enough to engineer those life and death situations you mentioned it coming most to bear. I'm afraid I can't match your dedication in this regard."

"I did tell you I hoped you didn't have to see it. It may be when I come to life but I do not enjoy people's lives hanging in the balance. So much responsibility to hold a life in one's hands." He continued as the music slowed "i suppose you'll have to settle for what pale reflection your passion ignites in me."

"I did believe you. And...yeah, it is." A moment of disquieting memory flits through her eyes, but only a moment before she settles her free hand on his shoulder, to end in that formal pose. "No settling about it, though, that was amazing to see. I appreciate the lesson deeply, Satoru-san."

She steps back to offer a bow that is both conclusion and an indication of gratitude for the dance.

he steps back and returns the bow, part of his mind wondered how differently things might have gone if this had happened toward the beginning of the Miai instead of the end "please the honor is all mine Mumei-san. To see someone so dedicated to their passion, to not only see it but interact with it. Its a memory i'll carry for sometime I think."

Mumei nods. "Then I guess we honor one another, as it should be." She nods back toward the table. "Let's see if they efficiently cleared away our drinks."

/exit to casual conversation?