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Kamui leaned casually against the wall, directing that unnervingly content smile to the room at large while soft notes sounded throughout. Most of his side faced Takasugi, who was on the opposite side of the room, and since he had most of his attention on his shamisen, he too had his side exposed to Kamui in turn.
For a while, only the melancholy tune spoke in the midst of their odd companionship.
Takasugi smirked slightly at the thought, waiting for the shoe to drop and for Kamui to say what he really came here for.
Sure enough, "I wonder about the personal significance of your little instrument there. It sure sounds nostalgic." Kamui didn't face him, face tilted ceiling-wise and smile still in place. His arms were casually crossed over his chest, fingers loose, one leg draped over the other where he stood.
"Personally, I hate to hold on to things - it's a weakness. If I'd held onto my style of fighting, for example, I wouldn't be able to be the amazing warrior I am now.
"Does that make sense, Takasugi-san?" That smile was finally directed his way, and Takasugi tilted his head in acknowledgment.
"It does. Though, I wonder why, for someone claiming to have no holds on the past, your own tone is about as wistful as this song..." He struck against a string with a ringing note, Kamui's smile widening at the longer strum, and then he was casually plucking away in a somber tempo.
The redhead lifted away from the wall and turned to face him. Takasugi didn't move, but Bansai, who'd been tucked away in the corner farthest from him for an illusion of privacy, looked up from his mp3 player for the first time in hours. From where he sat, Takasugi could hear the volume of his headphones decrease just slightly.
Of course, Kamui still had that wide, leery smile. "Is that so? Haha. I guess maybe seeing my dear, sweet sister brought some feelings to the surface." He stepped forward, casually uncrossing his arms and studying the nails on one of his hands. "But then...I used to ruminate on whether I'd have to beat her, too. I honestly had put the thought out of my mind!" He threw his head back slightly and chuckled light-heartedly, like he wasn't talking about killing his younger sibling.
"She's still such a baby. Ah, no, it wouldn't be any fun to spend time on her. And then I'd have dad on my case...would be a shame to have to take another arm. There's way more interesting, newer things to encounter here!"
The jingle of Takasugi's shamisen playing fumbled, barely noticeable, and there was a glint in Kamui's eyes as he tracked the movement. The room seemed to shrink. The air felt heavy, and brief flashes raced through the mind of the ex-patriot: war, carnage, and the will to fight against a dangerous enemy.
"Hey, Takasugi-san...You know I intend to keep him for myself, don't you?" The smile was there, but what was missing was even a hint of jest or teasing, ultimately empty of camaraderie or warmth. It was said like pure fact, a universal truth to be acknowledged.
"Silly things like childhood attachments, memories...those mean nothing to me. I look for the best, and I destroy it. That's the only way I can feel alive."
Takasugi had picked up the song again, but it was slower, his head bowed slightly.
For a minute, the room was only music once more. But only a minute.
"...I've been aware of your fascinations since the moment you mentioned him, Kamui-kun. I didn't have a problem with it then, why would I now?" Kamui continued to smile, but the still stance and alert eyes would be enough to send anyone with the slightest doubts into a shivering bundle of nerves.
"Gintoki is an idiot, but he has a way of attracting all kinds of people...At one time, yes, I was included. But honestly, you'd be doing me a favor, Kamui-kun. I see no reason to oppose it."
He stood, placing the shamisen down and digging out his pipe. He lit it, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled. The smoke took up the space left by the song, curling through the air like a tentative hand.
"But you know...he's a stubborn man. It doesn't matter what your intentions are, if you give him room to bite, he'll aim for the jugular...even if you're someone close to that kid of his." He smirked, taking another hit from the pipe in shorter puffs.
"Why are you really telling me this, Kamui-kun? I'm curious. I thought we were getting along famously."
Kamui walked further into the room, not seeming to mind the sweet smelling smoke in the slightest. The aura about him was more oppressive than any tobacco could give off. “You don't know? It's exactly as I told you, Takasugi-san."
Then he was there, right in front of him. Takasugi didn't so much as flinch, but he didn't lift his pipe again and his face was still turned slightly away from Kamui. The Yato continued, undeterred, and didn't so much as smirk at the very tense Bansai behind him, sword drawn and mouth tight.
"I'm somewhat relieved you're not so sentimental, Takasugi-san. I'm a man of my word, you know. I've marked him. He's mine." That smile grew, twisted into something ugly, more feral. "I don't care about anything but my prey, you see. Not pride, not family," those eyes narrowed coyly, and, "nor any other attachments of a sort. It's not my concern."
Takasugi's back went pole-straight. To the regular outsider, he could be a statue for how still and upright he stood.
Still, his voice was as calm as ever, if not with a hint of hoarseness. Surely, from the smoke. "We were never close."
Kamui didn't miss a beat. “Oh? But that’s not what I asked. I don't care about emotions, Takasugi-san. I'll say it again. He's mine. I'm going to make his body forget all about yours, and I simply don't want this to rekindle any...lingering desires."
He stepped back, aura retreating like a sword returning to its sheath. There, ever deadly, but not ready to draw blood. The Yato's smile returned to it's usual facade of cheeriness. "That's it, really. But I should've known, Takasugi-san is not a carnal man of the flesh in that way, huh? I'm very glad! Just know that there is no longer a part of him for you, in any sense."
He turned, pushed the sword still pointed at him away to shoulder passed Bansai, who turned to watch. Takasugi still hadn't moved.
"Thank you for indulging me, Takasugi-san. I enjoyed the music, but smoking is a terrible habit for a warrior of your likeness."
Minutes later, when Bansai was ordered to leave, he did so with some hesitance, seeing but not mentioning the angry grip of Takasugi's hand on his pipe. Only the smoke lingered, mixing silently with ill temper, stirred emotions, and the calm sounds of the night outside of the boat.
Takasugi smiled, brittle and hinged, and went to apply another breath to the pipe. Very little was in the next hit, as he'd let it sit and burn for too long, but he felt little satisfaction at the exiting exhale. The shamisen was placed on its stand, and Takasugi folded his kimono tighter over himself, staring out the window at the waxing moon. Clouds lingered in the dark sky, not yet obscuring the soft glow but clamoring almost as though there was a will to do so.
He could understand the feeling.