Mochi Six [Iwamura/Wukong]

He was a greedy man, a critical man. He was impatient. The early evening sun was timid against Iwamuira's thick pelt; yet a small, plain part of himself yearned for tomorrow's heat. It would happen to be the start of his investigation, so to speak, his delving into the Archives. He had set it out accordingly in his head, like one sets the table before supper, and he was thoroughly perplexed by this--for he had decided from the moment of her escape that the chase for Bashira would commence upon the return of his bearings.

He had been ready, even if shakily so, for at least the past week, if not longer. "Yet here I am, drawing it out like some sort of showman from the Human World..." It was a behavior not unfamiliar to him, a long-lived companionship with his nature that sated the whole of his soul. Indeed, he had spied the vices within his own conviction, yet the beast-man had made no effort to hasten himself toward the inevitable search for his former Captain.  

All of this was producing a mild headache, one that Hyoroshi was currently seeking a remedy for--not to cure, but to make comfortable and at home. It was thus that he strode through the market district of the Seireitei, already brightly lit with exterior lights abound, towards a Kissaten: Cafe Wicker, his third favorite location of all.

The exterior tatami-wood lamps, plump like garlic bulbs, were already emanating a toasty orange off the cafe's wooden facade. He reached the open doorway, about half-a-foot shorter than he was, and peered in, still clothed in his Captain's garb. The establishment was tiny by any standards, having built itself within a literal hole in the wall; a half-dozen well-loved birch stools sat unoccupied in front of a Hinoki cypress counter to his right, basic and plain in construction. The walls were equally as frugal, made of a basic beige plaster, though two rectangular wall sconces on the left wall of the same material as the outside lamps did well to bathe the interior in campfire-like gradients. On his right, behind the counter, was a single soul--an elderly woman of short stature dressed in a plain burgundy kimono, with wrinkles like canyons across her cheeks and down from her large egg-shaped hazel eyes. Yet her snow-white hair was tied in a meticulous baseball-sized bun high upon her head and she stood with a passionate vitality, as if she were a deity tending to her own tiny pocket of heaven. She was breaking out plates and mugs on the single workstation against the right wall; she possessed no Reiatsu to speak of.

Iwamura rapped his knuckles against the outside facade, bringing the woman's attention up to him. He could've sworn he heard her neck crack as she craned her head. Nevertheless, a soft grin had unfurled across her lips.

"It's about time you swung around again, Hyoroshi. I was worried you'd forgotten about little old me. Have a seat."

There was just enough room for Iwamura to squeeze himself in and onto the outermost stool; his right leg up to the knee was peeking out into the street. He smiled with an embarrassed curl to his maw as he sat with hands flat on the counter.

"Sorry, Miss Suki. A lot's happened this past little while that's required my full attention--and before you try to pry again, yes, effectively all of it is for official ears only."

The old woman, Suki, pushed out her lower lip in rather goofy indignation, but found enough restraint to quell the worst of her retort. Instead, she swiveled to her workstation and drew a simple white mug and plate.

"I've told you before, young man, none of that hullabaloo matters to me," she said with a sort of tender admonishment that turned Iwamura pink beneath his fur. "You're flying up high now, you're all grown up. I get it. But you're just as much a soul as I am, and you always will be. Believe it or not, that not-so-little part of you needs some maintenance and rest from time to time, especially nowadays. Plus, it's not like I can't guess what could be weighing you down. Still going with the usual?"

Iwamura was staring at the counter. His voice was uncharacteristically meek; he hadn't expected her sudden pivot. "Yes, please. Mochi Special with matcha tea."

Scattered through Seireitei are trees to provide shade and cover. Upon one tree in particular, in a random section of Seireitei, there laid a sleeping monkey of five and a half feet long, his golden fur glistening in the sunlight that pierced through the leaves. There was a comically-sized snore bubble coming from him while he slept atop the tree, in pure relaxation as nothing in the world could get to him.

Moments later, Wukong came falling out of the tree as he'd rolled over, and landed face-first on the ground. He slowly pulled himself back to his feet, sighing softly as he attempted to figure out what time it was. Based on the position of the sun, it was clear it had been several hours. No point heading back to the barracks now, at least, as everyone else would be on their way home, so he decided to patrol Seireitei and look for something new and tasty to eat.

It wasn't long before he found a Captain of the Gotei Eight; one whom Wukong hadn't interacted with previously, but whom seemed familiar all the same. Wukong didn't even know his name, but he knew that the two of them were the only "beast men" in the Gotei Eight. Admittedly, Wukong didn't even know what that meant; he'd just heard the other members of Division Five talking about them one day.

Wukong stealthily followed the Captain to see where he was going and see if there was an opportunity to talk to the man. Eventually, the Captain settled into....well, mostly into...a small cafe that Wukong didn't even know existed. It was a literal hole in the wall, and the Captain could only barely fit through the door of. The monkey approached the Captain, arriving in time to hear his order of Mochi Special with matcha tea, neither of which Wukong had ever heard of before.

"Hiya Captain!" He said out of nowhere, settling in next to Iwamura. "My name's Wukong, and I'm the Monkey King!"

Iwamura jolted in his seat and his widened gaze whipped to the monkey-man. He sat statuesque for a moment, processing; he realized his focus had been squarely upon Suki and nothing else, committed to what was an inevitable heart-to-heart with who, by many respects, had been a coveted counselor of sorts. Yet, as he looked the monkey-man over--Wukong, as Hyoroshi understood it--a subtle ache twitched somewhere around his massive heart. He had heard of Wukong as the Vice-Captain of the Eighth, and though indeed the pair had never met face-to-face, Iwamura was well aware of the monkey-man's...immaturity, Hyoroshi decided to call it. Immaturity paired with naivete. Blatant, almost comical exasperation stretched his face with incredible exasperation . For this moment, the concept of status was nowhere within reach to him. Not with someone of his kind.

Suki merely glanced at the monkey-man, blinked, and let escape a light-hearted snicker before returning to Iwamura's order.

"The...Monkey King? What?" Iwamura huffed a sigh and rubbed his eyes with one hand. As if by itself, his critical expression melted away into a more professional, if still stern, neutrality.

"I know who you are, Vice-Captain Wukong. What're you doing here? Wait." His eyes narrowed, accentuated by the black tribal paint swooping down from his eyelids towards both sides of his head. "Were you following me? And for how long?"

Wukong stared at the Captain who, for a long moment, seemed entirely shocked that Wukong had shown up at all. Was it considered rude in beastman culture to show up unexpected? Well, he could remember plenty of times Okami was surprised to see him, so it was unlikely that it was exclusively a beastman thing. Iwamura muttered about his status as the monkey king before rubbing his eyes with one hand and asking what he was doing here before realizing he'd been followed for god knows how long.

"Oh, I dunno. I just sorta started following you after I fell out of the tree." He was being honest, as always, and even pointed to the bruise on his face from his landing. "Didn't know where we were going, but this place sure seems fun!" He looked around to admire the culture and creativity despite the small size of the restaraunt, and appreciated their clever use of the space.

"Is this a food place? I like food places! Do they have bananas?" He tilted his head innocently, as if a Banana was truly the only thing he wanted at that moment. "Or Banana Bread. Or Banana Pie. Or Banana Donuts. Or Banana Muffins. Or Banana Smoothies. Oh, oh, maybe even Banana Ice Cream!" He'd clearly tried all of these already, as his mouth was watering at the thought of all these bananas. Wukong wasn't even asking Suki, despite her being the employee, he was facing and talking to Iwamura distinctly.

"Fell out of a tree?" Iwamura hadn't noticed anything of the like on his way over--whether negligence, stupidity or pure ignorance was to blame, he neither knew nor cared enough to consider further. His attention instead drew back towards Miss Suki, whose work was almost complete: a dark oak cup stood stoic, piping-hot green tea wafting steam from within its perfectly cylindrical container. To the cup's left, Suki and her well-tenured hands were sculpting the last of six palm-length rice cake dumplings. The five already completed, speckled with snowy sugar, sat plump on a rectangular birch plate with rounded edges.

"I suppose tonight is a quiet evening." His thoughts lingered to the immediate future, as one new hiker may stare at Everest from its base. A stray notion suddenly appeared in the distance, suggesting he forsake it all right there and flee home in a fit of white-hot rage. Iwamura slowly shut his eyes, still facing the counter. "Miss Suki should be able to craft something along those lines. But you'll have to pay."

"Ah, I have some bananas and vanilla ice cream stashed away in here. I can get something going for the lil' Monkey King here," she said with light jest--before snapping a downright cartoonish death-stare to Wukong. "Yes: with payment, as any restaurant patrons would honor."

Iwamura opened his eyes and, observing Suki's expression, let out a few quiet chuckles.

"Don't scare him away now. I'm sure it won't be an issue." He glanced to Wukong again. "Go ahead and have a seat, Vice-Captain."

Wukong watched as Suki finished making the sixth rice cake dumpling, and turned to stare at Iwamura as he spoke about the night being a quiet evening. Wukong never put much stock in superstition, so whether it was quiet or loud was unimportant to him. Then Iwamura stated that Suki should be able to help him out, which was met with her saying she could make Banana Icecream for Wukong, if he could pay for it.

Wukong tilted his head. Pay for it? Pay with what? What the hell was payment? Did... did they expect him to sell himself? Was he truly nothing but a midnight snack, and was expected to offer himself up in tribute? He glanced at the six rice cake dumplings, and up to Iwamura; they did look slightly similar. Maybe Iwamura had "paid" with one of his children? The horrifying thought painted a picture on Wukong's face of absolute terror, before he sighed softly.

"Nevermind, then, I guess." He reached over and took one of Captain Iwamura's dumplings, shoving the whole thing in his mouth while he spoke. "I don't know what payment is. Every other food place I've been to, someone has always came with me. Maybe they handled it?" He shrugged, wiping off his mouth after having eaten the entire dumpling. The monkey-man stretched lazily before cracking his neck and decided to reach over for another dumpling. "These are pretty tasty! What are they?" He said, holding one in front of Iwamura, and waving it around.

Iwamura did not utter a word nor twitch a muscle. All he could muster was a widening of the eyes, though any sort of hostility or offense was notably absent. Indeed, it was as he watched Wukong devour the dumpling that a realization of incredible fecundity reared itself, one that produced such a heatwave within his chest so as to temper him within a second's time. Suki had been deathly silent in the same instant, but her thunderstricken gaze suggested a much different perspective.  

"What--"

"It's alright, Miss Suki. It's okay," Iwamura's voice was a quiet, gentle rumble. He was holding his palm out between Wukong and the incensed shopkeeper. She stammered as she snapped up to him and his hand, blinked twice, then sighed with belligerence and crossed her arms.

Nodding once, Iwamura returned his hand before returning his attention to Wukong. His eyes searched the young beast-man, as if trying to feel for something somewhat unfamiliar to him. "These are called Mochi. They originated in the World of the Living, where living humans preside. If I recall correctly, they're rice cakes usually filled with ice cream or red bean paste, then dusted with powdered sugar." Iwamura diverted for an instant to seek Suki's confirmation; she merely nodded her head, still frowning, still with crossed arms.

"Payment is the act of providing something in exchange for something you want. The standard is with money, currency." Iwamura fished into his Shihakusho and drew out a small bundle of loose silver coins. "All Shinigami, including you, should be receiving this money on a standard basis--something called a salary. In fact, as Vice Captain...you should have your own sizable stash of money, yourself."

"Thus, I had traveled to this shop to obtain Miss Suki's Mochi Special alongside a cup of green tea. I was intending to provide payment for six of them. You've eaten one of them, without permission; you have stolen from me."

Only now did Iwamura realize, as he was towering over Wukong, that he had left his seat and was standing directly in front of the cafe's doorway. He felt as though he were operating on reflex, not entirely in control of himself, yet he found himself remarkably unworried. He squatted down to Wukong's height, resting his arms limp upon his thighs.

"If this were the Beast Realm, you would be a carcass on the floor right now, Vice-Captain Wukong. And that's assuming your killer would be merciful. This would have been the end of you. All over a dumpling."

Hyoroshi breathed a quiet, almost solemn sigh. "I had read up on you before, but I couldn't actualize it in my head until now. Wukong, you really don't know much at all about anything, do you? Ah, that's not meant to be offensive against you--have you truly not had any sort of formal learning about the reality of things?"

Suki went to say something, and Wukong's total attention was shifted to her like a predator tracking a new option for a meal and deciding whether or not it was worth the predator's attention, but then Iwamura interrupted her and Wukong's attention returned like the innocent puppy dog he is, awaiting the praise of his master because he has, to his understanding, broken no rules nor been rude. He's been perfectly polite, and Iwamura stating that it was okay of course implied that Wukong was correct in that he had been by ALL account, a "good boy".

Suki crossed her arms and Iwamura returned his own attention to Wukong, who seemed by all accounts innocent and childlike in his curiosity, whereas Wukong was watching Iwamura who seemed to express himself more as a disappointed father, which made Wukong wonder if he had managed to make wrong somehow, as Iwamura didn't seem as pleasant as before; something had shifted within the man, and Wukong had noticed.

He went on to explain Mochi and where they came from, what they are, even gained Suki's confirmation that he was right, and then went on to explain while frowning what payment was. The act of providing something in exchange for something you want. The standard is money, currency. Iwamura pulled out a bag of coins, which Wukong recognized as the same small bag he was handed every month without fail since he had joined the Shinigami.

And immediately, flashbacks began to play in his eyes of all the times he'd handed the whole bag away without question to nearly anyone who asked, because he never really cared about it. Any time he had needed to, he had managed to go about without needing payment; maybe others had been handling it, maybe he'd built up some sort of supermassive large amount of money that he owed someone that he didn't have a word for.

Iwamura went on to confirm the payment received on a standard basis as a salary, and apparently as a vice captain his was bigger than most others. He hadn't even noticed, since again he had put no attention towards the received salary and was unaware of what it was truly worth. Iwamura would then further explain that he had paymented for six cups of green tea and six plates of mochi. Of which, Wukong has eaten one of six pieces of mochi per plate of mochi, of which Iwamura has (by Wukong's current understanding) ordered 6 of.

At first, Wukong didn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation. As far as he had understood it, he was offered to take a seat; which, he remembered discovering the first time did not in fact mean put a seat in your backpack or take it with you when you leave, and instead seemed to be roughly equivalent to 'make yourself at home'. As such they were, in Wukong's brain, roughly equivalent with each other and meant approximately the same thing. Thus take a seat meant make yourself at home and thus despite Iwamura stating he had provided payment for the mochi and had so many to spare because six was a huge number that took both of his hands to count to, but then Iwamura stated that he had stolen from him.

He had stood up by now, and was towering over Wukong, like a wild animal defending its territory and Wukong began to understand. It wasn't the words that Iwamura spoke, which would be about the Beast Realm and how he would be a carcass right now; those words didn't make sense, and would be processed later, but in his actions and nature Wukong understood on an instinctual level that he had messed up. Previously, his shenanigans had been written off as playful and funny, but apparently the Captain of the Seventh Division was more serious than that.

Iwamura sighed softly, but Wukong understood it to mean that he was being shown mercy. The man had apparently read up on him but didn't understand something until now. About how Wukong didn't really know the world and such; he went on to explain that he wasn't trying to be offensive, and Wukong couldn't help but laugh softly at the implication that he could be offended by words. A final question, and Iwamura's speech was finally over. Initially Wukong was worried that any attempt at speaking would be overwritten with "I'M NOT DONE" but after a brief moment, Wukong would eventually reply sheepishly.

"I'm... sorry, Captain Iwamura. I misunderstood. I'm still very young and haven't learned a lot about the world." He thought about the countless times that he had walked up to other Shinigami and had them calmly put down what they were doing and prepare for Wukong's shenanigans, and how he'd been lucky so far in navigating the world.

"I'm from the Forests of the Rukongai, way way out in the wilderness. I joined Soul Society, like.... a lot of years ago? i don't know, but it's more than twenty." As that was every finger and toe he had, that was the highest number he could count to. "I used to sort of pull pranks on the outskirts of Rukongai before I joined Soul Society and became a Shinigami Proper. I used to be the Lieutenant of the Fifth Division, but I recently got transferred to the Eighth Division; no one's really sure of why, but I'm not smart enough to question that kinda stuff. Oh, sorry, you already know all of this don't you?" He looked embarassed, like he'd implied the Captain, who had just stated he'd read up on Wukong, didn't already know all of that.

He summarily tried to explain the answer to Iwamura's question, rather than his own backstory, without even questioning why he thought his backstory would explain any of it.

"I made it through the academy by filling in the circles, I just had to spend a while to figure out the right order. I still remember it too, A B D D B A..." he began to recite a long list of letters that were utterly meaningless, as he was entirely unaware that the test changes every year, and he was simply incredibly lucky, so the fact that he remembers his answers at all is a fricken miracle. Eventually he'd stop talking, and just stare at Iwamura like a puppy once more, awaiting either further intruction or direct reprimand.

As Fifth Division did not have a Captain until recently, he had been acting with basically free reign. This was common knowledge within the Fifth Division at the time, and it was no surprise when he inevitably got replaced by someone more competent. Even he wasn't too terribly surprised, but was in fact more surprised that he remained a Lieutenant and was just transferred to a different Division.

So he had gone from having basically no supervision whatsoever to having a Captain to answer to and apparently had found himself stealing from the Chief of the Gotei's Security Division. It just so happened that he had a peculiar processing speed for specific things, and the mention of the Beast Realm had finally been fully processed.

Why did that sound vaguely familiar?

"Wait, the Beast Realm?" He spoke, even interrupting Iwamura if he had tried to speak about something else, or finalizing his own speech with a question of his own.

Iwamura was silent throughout Wukong's exchange, still crouching at Wukong's level, still watching him with intent, though a softness had long settled into his features (with the exception of a brief, terribly goofy look of disbelief when Wukong detailed how he'd graduated). There needn't be any biting feelings with the kid, Hyoroshi mused, not with such an innocence to Wukong's breath. Such was a thought that frequented Iwamura's attention often--he had always pursued punitive measures only to an extent, even back then, not in a materialistic or legalistic fashion, but with the quiet hum of a sort of whiteness that occupied the very core of his being. It was a type of matter--something he could only call purity, though this felt too simplistic a word--he could sense, but be unable to see; understand, but be unable to describe.

Hyoroshi blinked out of his thoughts and tilted his head slightly. He had heard Wukong's inquiry from a distance.

"So it does strike something with you." He murmured, then suddenly sprouted a cheerful smile as an airiness lifted his mind. His massive hand patted Wukong's shoulder with a bit more force than he'd intended, though he didn't take notice. "Well, and I accept your apology. You didn't know. But let this be a lesson, Vice-Captain...a lesson and an opportunity."

Iwamura finally rose to his feet and motioned for Wukong to enter the cafe in front of him and sit. Assuming Wukong did so, Hyoroshi returned to his position at the end of the row as before, his right leg sticking out into cool evening air; the sun had sunken below the buildings and dusk was in full swing. He fished a small handful of individual coins from his Shihakusho, part of the same bundle he'd shown Wukong earlier, and sandwiched the money onto the counter.

"Go ahead and order anything you'd like, Wukong--within reason. I've put down enough money for one, maybe two items. Payment from others for your meals and other goods should only be seen as a privilege, not an expectation."

Iwamura nodded once to a neutral Suki. "Once you have your food, we can continue regarding the Beast Realm. Actually," he picked up a mochi ball in his hand; his tea had turned lukewarm by this point, "what do you want to know, and what do you already know? You can think on both of those things while Suki prepares whatever you choose to eat." He slid the mochi ball into his mouth and carefully chewed, savoring all the delectable flavors therein almost as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Throughout the whole exchange, Wukong had not yet stood up despite everything, and was in fact still sitting in the seat next to Hyoroshi Iwamura's seat on the inside of the building, staring up and outside at Iwamura who blinked out of his thoughts and murmured something before patting him gently on the shoulder and sitting back down.

Iwamura pulled out more of the payments and placed a few of them on the counter in a neat little pile. Wukong was told to order anything he'd like, within reason, as Iwamura had apparently paymented for one or two items, and explained that paymenting for and from others should be seen as a luxury, not a right. He understood the message, even if the words were confusing to him. He was told to order, and asked what he already knows about the Beast Realm, to talk about while Miss Suki made his food.

Wukong put his arms up, using his left hand to support his right elbow with his right hand supporting his chin. He thought long and hard about how to proceed. He didn't want to upset either of them again, because he didn't like actually upsetting people. He had messed up, and was already aware of that, but had wanted to at least attempt to come up with a way to show the kindness back to Iwamura directly. Would it be seen as rude, though?

Wukong thought back to his days in the forest. These word things were still new to him, as back then they mostly just shouted at each other and laughed together. He slightly missed those days, but Iwamura's previous beastly display seemed to bring him an odd comfort; it had reminded him of his father defending their territory from an opposing family. That was why he had understood what Iwamura had meant, even if the words he used were confusing.

Truthfully, Wukong knew absolutely nothing about the Beast Realm. The words made his brain tingly, but that was literally it. It also wasn't what was currently on his mind. The endless possibilities.... even if he was only limited to one, maybe two at best, the endless possibilities made him hesitate. He thought back to his earlier list, but after the seventh item had waved off the thought as he wasn't sure he had listed it yet. He remembered the food that he had stolen from Iwamura, and tried to think back to what it was called....

Matcha.... special? With.... mochi? tea?... It was the very first thing he had heard Iwamura say, which is to say that by now so much had happened he could barely recall the information. His current thought bubble was interrupted with another, which was trying to figure out what the hell "mochi tea" was. Between Okami Shiba and all the others he'd befriended already, he'd been exposed to lots of different teas so far. Chai, Oolong, Green, Chamomille, Peppermint, Ginger, Hibiscus, Celery?, Dargehealing?, Urlgrey?, Marzypan?, Matchstick?... Wait, no, not Matchstick.... Matcha! Matcha Tea had been so beautifully green that Wukong couldn't put into words.

He hapharzardly glanced at Iwamura's Tea, as if hoping to compare it to the vibrant green of the Matcha Tea, when he realized and his eyes grew wide that Iwamura had, in fact, ordered Matcha Tea, and the Mochi Special. Mochi was therefore by proxy the item Iwamura had just slid into his mouth and slowly chewed. Wukong could barely remember the flavor of the one he'd eaten, having talked while he did so and eating quickly. Then he remembered Iwamura's earlier explanation of Mochi which had occurred shortly after he'd stolen one. They were rice cakes filled with ice cream or red bean paste, dusted with some type of sugar, and came in a serving of six per plate.

He glanced over to Miss Suki, and noticed she was not in fact making a single plate of mochi at the moment, let alone five plates of it. His eyes grew wider as he realized it was not one piece of six sixes, but one piece of six! That was a far more grievous offence, and Wukong pouted slightly.

"Miss Suki, is this enough to pay for the Mochi I stole from Captain Iwamura?" He looked downtrodden and sad, like his toy had been taken away, as he no longer believed he had enough money to order anything else and was giving it all to Miss Suki to replace what he had rightfully stolen from Iwamura.

"Yes, mister Monkey King. It's also enough for you to have a few banana mochi of your own, or a single banana mochi and a cup of tea." Wukong once again thought long and hard, which reminded him of the last time he thought long and hard as a new thought bubble overwrote the previous one which was just a flashback of like five seconds ago, but he suddenly remembered Iwamura was waiting on information about the Beast Realm. His thought bubble exploded violently and he answered reflexively to Miss Suki before turning his attention back to Iwamura so as to not keep the Captain waiting any longer.

"Sure, yeah, that's fine." Was all he had said, not realizing the eventual implications as he turned in his seat. "Admittedly I don't know anything. When you said the words Beast Realm, it made the back of my brain get all fuzzy... that's kinda it. I've never heard them together like that, and I don't know what they mean. There are other Realms besides "us" and "living world"?" He had used actual air quotes with his fingers for "us" and "living world", and spoke with adamant fact in his voice.

"Isn't there also that 'Hueco Mundo' place? I've overheard a lot of conversations." Miss Suki placed a cup of green tea matching Captain Iwamura's. Wukong shrugged in response to her question while he glanced at it, surprised, as he wasn't aware he was getting anything at all, having seemingly forgotten about the part where he agreed to what Miss Suki had said.

She had already begun preparation on two more Mochi Balls, one to replace the one Wukong stole and one for Wukong himself. Wukong listened if and while Iwamura replied to him, and despite his full attention being on Iwamura and listening to any replies that may have been given, visually he was excited the moment the two mochi were done, and watched with sheer joy as one was placed in front of him, and then his face shifted to abject terror as he watched Miss Suki place the other in front of Iwamura. The terror was quickly shaken off as Wukong remembered why she had made the Mochi at all, and he promptly placed the Mochi in his mouth, deciding to for once take his time and enjoy the food.

Iwamura had remained silent for a long while; for once it was not brought on by his own baseness or any sort of analytical caution, a fact that would have sent his tail wagging if he'd possessed one. Rather, he had been watching the good-natured chaos gripping Wukong that had become plainly evident in the young man's expressions and mannerisms. There was something quite nourishing about the scene, watching one sprout in real time, far more so than any abundance of Mochi or matcha tea could offer--it hearkened him back to his first years as a Shinigami under Kinoshita's tutelage. Those sun-kissed, rosy days...

Only when Wukong turned to face him did Hyoroshi realize he'd developed another frown. It was replaced with a pleasant neutrality within a blink's time.

"Yes, there's Hueco Mundo, the home realm of the Hollows," Iwamura started, nodding once at Miss Suki. "I've never been there myself, but perhaps as expected, it's a gloomy place. Sand dunes as far as the eye can see under a perpetual night sky." He paused for a second, looking as if he was going to add on more, but he ultimately held his tongue.

"Of course there's the Seireitei and the World of the Living. Perhaps there's more beyond that; I suppose only the Soul King would know. But regardless, the Beast Realm."

Iwamura drew a long breath and searched for nothing in particular upon the counter for a second. Just as quickly, his attention flitted right back to Wukong.

"The Beast Realm is where the greatest evils go on vacation. Physically it's adjacent to the Seireitei, as my departure from the Realm brought me directly to the extremities of the Rukongai, but spiritually, it's a mere step or two from Hell. It's a charred wasteland with nothing but ruins; there is no sky to speak of, just an empty void above everyone's heads. The only light comes from whatever candles and fires can be made and kept alive. Like the garbage hills in the Human World, there's corpses, carcasses, piled into mounds and hills, all picked clean, cannibalized--there's nothing like insects or bugs to decompose the dead. I--"

He went silent just then, breaking eye contact and staring at nothing. He had become as a statue for some ten seconds. "The Beast Realm has several ruling tribes," Iwamura suddenly resumed in a forlorn murmur, "with dominion over their own territories and smaller, weaker tribes, but there is no reason, there are no values behind any of it. Powers changed hands by the hour, whether between ruling tribes or between clans-people within a tribe. Any individual could and did inflict any kind and any number of unspeakable things upon another--and unless it was against a ruling tribesman, the beast often walked away with impunity."

Hyoroshi huffed. Suki and Wukong would have borne witness to the ghostly-white pallor of his skin had his fur not obscured the change. Suddenly a remarkable thirst came over him and he threw back the tea cup, feeling the room-temperature tea do its best to sate him.

"That's the short version of it all," Iwamura managed to choke out as he lowered the teacup. "I'm sorry if that was too grisly, but it's the truth, Wukong. We really are privileged, perhaps even blessed, to be present here. All three of us."

Iwamura lowered his eyes to the remaining mochi balls before him. He felt no desire for the things at the moment, a fact that only frustrated him, though he was able to keep such frustration subdued.

Hyoroshi confirmed the existence of a realm called Hueco Mundo, and offered a brief explanation about it to which Wukong was grateful. He vaguely remembered learning about it in his Academy Days, but he didn't remember many of the details, and Iwamura's brief explanation was enough to remind him of the realm's existence.

Hyoroshi then took a long breath before going into a long ramble to answer Wukong's question. He described the Beast Realm, where it physically was, how he was technically in Wukong's neighborhood for a short while before joining the Gotei, and then he started speaking faster and more viciously, describing the Beast Realm as a very inhospitable place that Wukong would very much not like to go to. He got so focused on talking that he interrupted himself, realizing where he was, like a post-traumatic shellshocked soldier recalling the war.

Then he continued, like nothing had happened, commenting on their political system, and how rapidly it seemed to change along with few members of the realm showing any level of friendliness towards each other. He suddenly drank the whole cup of tea, summarizing his story's conclusion with a slightly happy note, that they should be blessed to even be here. Hyoroshi Iwamura then stared at his mochi balls, downtrodden and sad.

Wukong turned in his seat and faced Suki for the first time since Hyoroshi had started talking. He had his head down, much like Hyoroshi himself, and his hands folded together on the counter. His eyes were closed, and he was currently painting a picture of the Beast Realm in his head. Hyoroshi's words had been vivid and descriptive, and somehow Wukong knew they were accurate. He had never been there, at least not to his knowledge, but he was painting a fairly accurate picture. He could see the piles of dead next to the fires which were providing light to the realm; he could see the various types of inhabitants, most of them performing violent acts on each other; he could see the lightning cracks of the storms around the jagged mountain peaks which would outline them against the blackened void; he could see his ancestors fleeing from the realm, pursued by violence and hatred.

He understood, on an instinctual level, why his family had left. He didn't have the capacity for brutal violence and savagery of that level; he didn't have the fortitude to survive in that kind of environment. Clearly Hyoroshi had, which was how and why he was describing the place, but Wukong had been born in the forests outside of Rukongai. He didn't know when his ancestors had fled from the Beast Realm, just that they had to have. Him and his family were the only animal-people he'd ever met until he found Hyoroshi. It made sense, therefore it must be true! Whether or not his ancestors were capable of partaking in the Beast Realm Specialty, Wukong himself was not. This therefore meant that his ancestors had fled intentionally so that their descendents would not know the needless suffering of the Beast Realm.

There were still a few questions left unanswered, but that conclusion seemed logical to Wukong. It didn't matter why his family had left, only that they had. He wanted to confirm his conclusion with Hyoroshi, and get the rest of his answers, so he assuredly sat up and opened his eyes, turning to face Hyoroshi once again.

"Captain Iwamura... I'm from the Beast Realm too, aren't I?" He nodded sagely at his own question, having already concluded that he most likely is. Whether or not Hyoroshi answered, Wukong continued. "Thank you for all the information, Captain, sincerely. If you don't mind me asking though, how did you.... escape? For that matter, how did my ancestors?" Those were the questions he felt comfortable asking Hyoroshi. There was one more question, which he kept to himself for now; why was the Beast Realm so awful? What rhyme or reason was there for such atrocity to exist? Wukong didn't ask, because he was afraid to find out the answer was 'None'.

"Yes. You are." Iwamura was terse, his voice hoarse, with his initial response. He had yet to shift his gaze; the air had suddenly become suffocatingly thick, as if he was submerged in a vat of molasses. The last time he had been this encumbered Hyoroshi did not know; the entire mural of what he'd just described had wrapped itself around the inside of his head, a putrid and nauseating wallpaper.

Hyoroshi visibly stirred at the requests that followed, raising his head somewhat, looking at Miss Suki without looking at her at all. She stood with all the anguish of a grandmother gazing upon a grandson, though she did not speak.

"Through the efforts of several companions that put down their lives or their chances of escape to aid my own," he stated in a low, reflective tone. "I am the only one of a group of six that successfully escaped. In hindsight, it was a foolish plan, a childish plan...suitable, I suppose, given our...immaturity."

He swiveled his head to Wukong in a sudden wash of dogged resolution. "At that time, the wariness of other realms went both ways; the Seireitei monitored the passage into the Beast Realm, and the head tribesmen slaughtered anyone they thought could have been considering a departure for the Seireitei. So we laid the foundation for one of the largest instances of mass chaos in decades. Inspired dissident tribes to try and overthrow the ruling class, and we even partook in the abominable pleasures that ensued...it was that hubris that nearly killed all six of us. I had to fight my way out, but not before taking my revenge on those rulers, my retribution for their deaths, beast by beast, a Hell within Hell..."

The sound of wood against wood brought Iwamura to Suki who had, without him once noticing, poured him a large cup of water. The Captain immediately took it up and downed half of the cup, gulp after gulp.

"As for your ancestors..." Hyoroshi said after setting the cup back down and pondering for a few seconds, "there were stories, legends almost, of a large contingent of Beastfolk leaving for the Seireitei. Almost seven-hundred years ago it happened, I believe. I recall that there were some like yourself in that group...but, they were before my time, unfortunately. I don't know any of the specifics regarding them; so much as mentioning the event would be enough to see you torturously executed."

After another sigh, with almost an air of carelessness he plucked a mochi ball up and slid it into his maw without so much as glancing at it.