The Summer Moon [Fuuen, Hisana]

Of course, Fuuen didn't have anywhere near the same concerns as Hisana about that matter. His style was not one made for violence in the first place, for to create it in such a way would dishonor it and his blade. But that did not mean that he, even against his pacifistic outlook, knew nothing of combat.

"Is that so? There is much beauty to be found here in the Seireitei, I have found, if only because so many of those who live here seem near obsessed with it, and demand that others cultivate it for them. Many of them are ill-suited to judge such things, of course, and they always seem quite impressed by even relatively mundane things."

Fuuen was, after all, a man of refined tastes. He had lived for artistic pursuits for centuries, and that certainly colored his perception of the world. Aesthetic, form, such principles dictated nearly every pursuit that he undertook.

"I have found that many of them seek others even to write poetry for them, that they might send it to a lover or with a gift. They pay quite well, I have found, but there is something quite off-putting about the very idea of treating art so candidly. I certainly do not consider those works I sell to them to be even one iota as meaningful as those I craft for their own sake."

"I, too, was raised with little. It was in that life that I found that there would only be beauty where I myself could create it. That even if the world was a hideous place, if I could bring forth beauty in it, that would be enough for me."

Of course, it wasn't especially difficult for Fuuen to speak of his life, or his earliest days. After all, they were centuries away from now. Barely even attached to who he was today. Otonashi Masaru, ronin duelist of Edo, was simply the catalyst for the creation of Fuuen. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I believe, when it comes to matters of courtship, that any poem crafted by one's own hand is infinitely more meaningful than even the most perfect poem if it has come from another. For the words of one's own heart have the most meaning to those for whom they are intended. What good is a pretty turn of phrase if it is written without passion?"

"Certainly, for mere passion without refinement is crude, ugly even. There is a difference between the mere exclamation of interest, and the romantic gesture of a poem of praise. For the beauty in their hair, in their eyes, the way that they carry themselves and look out at the world. To those who have earnestly thought to practice the art, seeing the beauty in every trait and every action is second nature. It is a question of whether or not one is willing to undertake such an effort for the sake of one they love."

Fuuen was something of a romantic, certainly, but that was only inasmuch as he found a great beauty in an elegant romance. He had little appreciation for the crass affairs of many around him, and he did not care overmuch for the words of the unrefined women that seemed fascinated by him now and again among the nobles.

"It is simply a matter of bringing in an income. Wandering is not a life which pays especially well, after all, and while the pay for a shinigami in training is enough to survive, it is not near enough to enjoy the myriad luxuries that the world has to offer. I have no intention of merely surviving from day to day. I wish to live every moment to the fullest, to experience those greatest things the world can offer, be they opulent or merely hidden away in secret. Besides, if I did not write them, someone else would, and they would certainly not do it half as well."

He allowed himself a smirk at that, a bit of pride slipping into what had, ultimately, still been a joking bit of exaggerated self-aggrandizement. Fuuen did think highly of himself, certainly, but not nearly in a way that he would so openly boast about himself without it being a jest. That would have simply been uncomely.

"I do not disagree. The passion of one's youth can create a flame that is difficult to control, and even more difficult to put out when it has been let loose. It is not for nothing that countless stories have been written of youths caught up in flights of fancy, and that many of those stories end in tragedy. As in all things, one requires practice before they can know how to best express themselves in that respect."

Fuuen, realistically, was not especially certain that there would be anyone coming any time soon who would match his skill. Not, for his part, because he believed that it was impossible. If anything, he considered himself rather lacking in talent, and all of his mastery to simply be the result of a great deal of trial and error. He was quite confident that others, younger than he and with greater intuition, could have achieved what it was that he had in far shorter time.

"I would welcome a peer in the work, certainly. Perhaps I ought to teach those who might have interest in the art."