///Closed///A long list

Kouichi's wooden geta made a louder sound than usual. As though to anounce his presence to the shopkeep. Left hand burried deep within the confines of his pocket. His right held tightly to a piece of paper. Dressed in the usual casual wear, he examined his surroundings. Even though the shop seemed run down and old. To him it was a treasure cove of mystery to him. All the unknown goddies to be found. His eyes were even wide, which seemed to flood full of excitement. Oh how he wanted to just simply jump into one section and explore. It seemed all too tempting.

As his stride drew him closer to the counter, he could only clench the paper tighter. Fighting a very childish urge to touch things. The ball of his palm came down and bounced upon the bell. Instead of searching fruitlessly, he figured it best to ask for directions. His lips pulled the thin lips tighter, revealing his upper row of teeth. His list was a rather odd one. no clothes, or food. Simply materials and other useful things. A sword, a maintenance and cleaning kit for the sword, ect. His head rotated in anticipation for the shopkeep. Even in respect to the business itself. The bandana had been slid back, holding his hair in a much more of a top knot style. Though it was short and almost out of place on him.

Finally his voice managed to find it's escape. Its volume seeming increased in a delighted manor. "Hello?" Perhaps just being around the antiques. Maybe the thrill of a new weapon. Oh the joys, would he find things of legend? Or maybe a finely crafted item that caught his eye. Such glorious mysteries. How could anyone not enjoy this shop, he though. The closest decription to how he felt, it was envy. Envy that the shop keep was here with all these goodies. Jealous that even his remaining life would never be enough to explore.

Clack. Clack. Clack. It sounded like someone was clapping two blocks of wood together to get the shopkeeper’s attention. That or the boys in the town had dared some other young lad to harass the surly, old clerk—it had happened before. The wooden clomps were answered by the dull thuds of the store owner charging through his rooms towards the door that separated his living quarters from the shop itself. The door slammed open, rattling on its hinges, and revealed an old man with a face scrunched in irritation, brandishing a broom in one hand.

“What have I told you lads about pestering me!” shouted the shopkeeper, the broom bristles swishing through the air as if sweeping away invisible cobwebs. “If you don’t get out of here and leave me be, your papa finding out will be the least—“ he cut himself off, lowering the broom so that it thumped on the counter. Seamus squinted at the young man who wasn’t as young as he’d been expecting, and on top of that, he didn’t seem to have any blocks of wood in his hands. Seamus looked the lad up and down and then grumbled under his breath. “You didn’t see any of the lads from the town in here, did you?” asked the man as he glanced around the shop. Giving a shrug, the shopkeeper turned his attention to his potential customer, giving him another look. “Those are some odd clothes you have on. You aren’t from the Hallows, are you? A bunch of strange ones up there.”

His bright smile shrunk back down to a tolerable smirk. His gaze locked upon the elder man. Younger boys? He saw none, but then it hit him hard. "Oh, that wooden sound was my sandals. I'm sorry, next time I will try to make less noise." He bowed his head in respect. "Yes, I am from the school." Fumbling with the paper he could only look back towards the goods of the shop. He then cleared his throat, his personality got serious. "I was told I could find almost anything here. So I brought a list in hopes I might find them."

His head turned to stare in wonder at the cluttered chaos that seemed so beautiful. Lifting the paper up, he nodded. "If you can point me in the right directon, or help in anyway. I'd be very thankful." Strange ones? Did this man really think such things about the school? That indeed made him chuckle. He was accurate in calling them strange, but that was why he liked it. He then looked back to the paper. "I was hoping to find a katana, wakizashi, a maintenance and cleaning kit. I also require some sewing materials such as needles, threads and fabrics."

His gaze returned to the older man. There was more, but that stuff was less important. The true objective was the two swords. Oh how he felt naked without the blades. "I also desire three different sized caligraphy brushs, four different colors inks." He smiled, and then looked one last time at the paper. "I think that should be all I need." He thought carefully for a moment.

When the youth confessed he came from Caislin Hallows, the old clerk’s bushy eyebrows shot up as if trying to hide in his hair, like scared children jumping into a bush. “I don’t trust any of you students, always up to no good at that school, coming down to the town and causing trouble,” he grumbled as he scowled at the young man, as if he expected the boy to sprout horns, wings, and a tail. “There’s spooks up there, I’m sure of it!” he decreed, as he reached a hand under his counter for a confidence booster.

Even though the youngling spoke more politely than any of the town boys, it was obvious that the old man was leery of him. When he rattled off the list of provisions he desired, it unsettled the man even more. “You want oriental swords? Just what are you planning, boy?” he demanded, his hand closing over whatever was hidden in the counter cubby. For a few seconds, the clerk fixed his gaze on the boy, further creasing his already heavily wrinkled face as he scrunched it up and squinted at the young man.

“That stuff doesn’t come cheap…” he muttered, the muscles of his face slowly relaxed, smoothing away a few, but not many, of the wrinkles. The promise of payment was a pretty good pacifier and the man lifted his hand from its hiding place and set it with its mate on the counter. “Well, I guess we could take a look.” Giving a nod there a quiet crackling as his bones protested the quick motion, and the shopkeeper went over to the hinged partition that allowed him to exit from behind the counter into the shop itself. “You got plenty of Euros, right, boy?” he asked, before shuffling down an aisle. “What kind of cloth do you need? There’s a bolt of canvas here… somewhere.” Aged, knobby fingers raked the shelves and eventually settled on the prize he sought. Pulling a bolt of heavy khaki canvas, he hefted it up into his arms, the atrophied muscles straining momentarily with the weight though the long sleeves of his shirt hid the quivering muscles. “Probably got at least seven, eight yards left on it. A bit dusty, but otherwise in good shape. Sell it to you for about forty Euros.”

Kouichi couldn't blame this man for being cautious. He noticed the difference, but it didn't effect him. "Well, you see. I come from Japan..." And his explanation began. "Unfortunately.... International travel restricts what you can bring." This old man was wise to be skeptical of the students. It wasn't just a gathering of extrodinary people, but also seemed to cast out the pure essence of spooky.

When the shopkeep led him towards canvas, he nodded. "Euros?" His expression seemed completely in shock. That was out of the question. But he had an alternative plan. His smile stayed plastered, and his right hand dove deep into his pocket. As if a secret chamber rest at the bottom, only to be withdrawn holding two rather old looking objects. Gold, in a much more oval shape, and a rectangle cut from the center. "I don't suppose you would accept some ryo? They may not have value has money in this land, but gold is gold." His brow perked. These were not his only ones. But it was up to the shopkeep to accept.

"As for the students... I wouldn't say they are all bad. A few are quite pleasent." He chuckled, and proceeded to toy with the gold. It wasn't like he didn't have anymore. He then looked back to the wrinkled old man who aided his search for the goods. He found this more fun than waiting for excitement at the school. Or maybe just because this elder man did not just stare like a dumb founded circus monkey. That fact alone was worth much more than its weight in gold. To Kouichi at least.

The old clerk’s eyebrow popped up when he heard the boy mention luggage restrictions for international travel. “So that weird school is bringing students from outside the Emerald Isle?” grumbled Seamus. His lips scrunched together, preparing to spit on the floor, but when he realized that it was his floor and he’d have to clean it, he decided against it. “Yes, Euros, the local currency. I don’t take anything el--” he stopped mid-word at the sight of the shimmering gold. Bushy eyebrows launched up in surprise before his eyes narrowed to scrutinize the coins. They definitely had some appeal to the old man. “Yes, that’s true, gold is gold,” grinned the shopkeeper.

“How many of those do you have?” asked the clerk as he turned away, the bolt of cloth tucked beneath his arm. He carried the massive spool with renewed strength now that he saw his possible pay. “I think there’s sewing stuff over here.” Seamus indicated a few small packets of needle and thread, traveler’s kits, that were in a printed cardboard box. On the shelf below the box was a full sewing kit in a hard-case container almost as large as a tackle box. “As for the rest, it’s probably in another room.” The clerk waited for the Asian boy to make his selection before moving towards an open doorway that led out of their current room and into an even more cluttered room. The walls were decorated with weapons and armor and shields, overlapping in some places as if wall-papering the room in scale armor.

"I have three stacks." He chuckled, grabbing a few packets of needles and thread. This old man would be easy to handle if the gold had caught that man's eye. Once done, he turned, following his elder in stride. The difference in height obvious. This second room held such wonders, from armor from great warrior civilizations, to weapons of the smartest. A facinating place.

With an excited grin, he looked around. "Oh how beautiful these are. Fine craftsmanship..." He turned to a piece of armor and exmained it. "Beautiful detail..." He continued to examin things. As if in complete awe at the armory that lay before him. How could this old shop have collected so many treaures? Like a kid in a candy store, his eyes wandered along the greatest of the crafts. Was it ok for him to look and touch? Or would the rules prohibit such acts? Still, his grin stayed plastered upon his face as though it was unable to change.

"I'm not sure why, but these things keep ending up in my stock. Somehow I got enough to fill this room. I don't know the names of most of them, so if you see what you want, just point it out and I'll get it. But don't touch." After the man finished speaking, he admired the young man's expression with a sense of pride, glad to know that his stock could still sometimes awe his customers. He really didn't know why he had so many weapons or why people kept selling them to him at reduced rates, but eventually, it seemed someone else would come in wanting that particular item and he could sell it for quite a profit. What did it matter if they just took up space for a few years, it's not like he really had anything else to put there.

The man waited, his arm still folded around the bolt of canvas, for the young man to make his selection. How many weapons had the boy listed? Two, three? He couldn't remember. But he figured they were all oriental weapons, even if he hadn't been familiar with all the names.

He nodded to his orders. A smile still plastered there. Tucking his hands behind his back, he examined each weapon. So many grand designs. And yet, there his eyes landed. A beautiful katana, so eligant. He pointed at it was a brightening expression. Along with a shorter swords, and a single dagger sized one. "Those three please." He continued to look though. Scanning for anything that might catch his eye. Slowly moving. Spotting the tools and other items needed for maintenance. "Those also."

He continued. Chuckling at this splendid find. What luck to find it all at once. Much easier. Though, no otehr weapons made his interest perk. Blades seemed to be his thing. And so he stuck to it. His eyes did wander though. His attention then turned once more to the older man. As though waiting for something. "Oh, how wonderful to find all on my list. Simply lucky indeed." He nodded happily.

A small satisfied smile grew on Seamus’s lips when he saw the lad fold his hands behind his back, like a kid told ‘Don’t touch’ by his mother as he accompanied her into a china shop. The aged clerk watched the younger man, and when he pointed out his selected weapons, the elderly man’s gaze swept from the boy to the swords. An agitated mutter spilled from his lips, “You would pick the ones put up high.” A second later, the boy was picking out more merchandise, Seamus following his pointing finger. Luckily, the tools and maintenance kits were on a low shelf unit. “You can get those yourself."

Eyeing the equipment again for a second or two, the older man considered how to fetch the customer’s desires from the wall. With a grunt and a shrug, he turned to the door. “You wait here, I’m going to have to go get my step ladder,” said the clerk. He set the bolt of cloth down beside the doorway before shuffling out of the room. A second later, his head popped back into the room, and he chided, “Don’t touch anything.” After giving his instruction, a warning hidden in the gruff tone, the old man vanished again, his shuffling footsteps and the creaking floorboards in the other room tracking his pace. The noises would easily announce his return before he entered the room again.

He waited. A silent whistle leaving him, shooting the song against any unsheathed blade or bow string. Though as it was bounced along the weapons, it began to take on a volume. Increasing slightly. The sound danced with each weapon. Making sure to pay due respect before moving on. Traveling deeper into the room of treasured weapons. It then began to die out. His prayer was sent, and so he stayed locked upon the blades he had chosen. They still seemed beautiful. His mind racing with questions. How old were they? Are the accustom to taking lives, human or not? The biggest question stuck to teh front of the line though. Would they accept him.

His teachings were specific. His beliefs strong. One of these cherished beliefs was that everything had a soul. From the blades of grass outside to umbrellas that sat next to a door. When his prayer was comepletely silent, eyes closed, and head bowing in respect. "Do forgive me... I can not take all of your home with me." He spoke to all the weapons he did not choose. As though to ward off any ill-will aimed at him. His gaze turning to the door to watch for the older man. It seemed unfair to ask him to fetch the blades. His age was not the problem, it was much more of a respect for the patience this man had for the young Kouichi. He thought for a moment on a way to aide the elder man. It seemed far from fair to have to old man carrying all these supplies. Still, was it wise to try and help? No clues offered insight. Like a forest with no rays of sun below the canvas of leaves.

There was a dull thud in the other room and then the quite scraping of wood scooting across wood. After a few minutes, the old man returned with a step ladder in tow. His arm was threaded through its rungs, one of the upper ones resting on his shoulder, as he carried it, the feet of one side dragging across the floor. Swinging it in front of him, the old, metal hinges creaked as he opened it up and set it a few inches from the wall, in front of one of the weapons that the young man had picked out. “This one, right?” asked the clerk before clambering up the rickety structure. With his feet on one of the rungs, he leaned forward and fetched the weapon from the hooks set in the wall. “Come over here and take this, lad,” he ordered, shifting the weapon in his grip so that he held the dull side of the blade carefully between his aged fingers and offered the handle to the boy below. It wasn’t that he was that high up, only perhaps three or four feet up off the floor, but he didn’t want to take the risk of climbing down the ladder with a sharp sword in his hands.

Once the young man had taken the katana, the man slowly descended the step ladder, the ancient wood creaking with his every movement until his feet were planted firmly on the floor. “And you said, that one?” asked the old man, pointing to the wakizashi. Before getting an answer, he was already sliding the step ladder across the floor, wood grating on wood, to the spot. In a few minutes, he had retrieved the second sword and passed it down to the boy. “That all you needed?”

"Yes." He nodded respectfully and smiled. This was a joy. Getting new swords, getting supplies. Holding everything with care. How blonde hair seemed to bounce with his movements. "It was a pleasure to see your shop. Thank you." He bowed his head. Restrained from bowing completely. His arms bent, holding all the items. Still he awaited the man to lead him. As though lost among the thrilling sight still, he continued to gaze wide-eyed at everything. "Have you ever wonded about the stories each thing brings with them?" He asked, as if simply trying to make conversation.

Perhaps it was the luring mystery of the shop. or the stories he wanted to hear from each and every item. One thing was for sure, he would hate to leave this place. With a heavy huff, he looked back to the elder and smiled. "Bet ya' get a lot of people who come to admire your collection." He chuckled, the small talk was hard enough without being forced. So why was he even trying? A rough clearing of his throat left him silent.

Each rung creaked as it accepted the old clerk’s weight and again when he lifted his foot, as if warning its lower sibling of the load it was about to bear. Stepping off the contraption, the man turned and gave a shrug and grunt, a wordless acknowledgement of the lad’s gratitude. Other than receiving his pay for the weapons, and the haggling that preceded it, the business between the two men were concluded, and yet the younger made an attempt at small talk. “No,” was the old man’s curt reply as he left the step ladder opened a few inches from the wall. Again, the young man made another attempt at friendly chatter, and the old man narrowed his eyes on him, bristly grey eyebrows lowering over his blue orbs. “Quite the talker, lad, aren’t you?” he asked.

Without another word, the store owner walked out the door and headed to the counter. “So, you’ll be paying with gold, hm? Those things aren’t cheap.” The clerk let his words hang in the air, waiting to see if the lad would start making an offer and how high he might start off so that Seamus could get a gauge of how much he might earn.

An amused chuckle escaped as nodded. "I told ya'... I have three stacks." He stayed at that once more. As if everyone understood the meaning. How wrong he was. His facial expression seemed to fade. When the old man commented on his behavior. Lips falling into a rather annoyed smirk, and his brow tightened. Giving the impression if his eyes were open he would be staring spitefully. Not that he was upset, but this shop was grand and he wouldn't mind chatting for a bit in the front. Still he pressed it no more. Setting the items on the counter, left hand shooting into his pocket. "I find conversation keeps my mood on the nicer side." Was his simple answer back to the elder. Pulling out the first 'stack', which was actually a small sack. Right digits entering the bag, he retreived ten solid golden oriental coins. "Gold as promised... I figure this is a good start for starting off."

The coins rested like a hand of cards. His left eye opening and the hue aiming for the old man. Watching the other's expressions with the unbreakable focus. "As a youth, I understand your urge ta' not trust me, but c'mon Ojii-san. I've fallen in love with your store. It would be a disgrace to try and pay cheap." The way he handled the gold was like that of an old age yakuza. Kouichi's younger age seemed only a ploy. His consentration was locked on the old man. His fingers tensed upon the coins as if to snap them up any moment. "Though perhaps ten is not enough, shall we make the opening shot twenty coins?" He held the bag out, gripping on part so the bag hang open showing the second group of ten coins.

While Seamus wasn’t certain the exact value of the coins, he wagered that any one of those coins was probably worth more than most of his stock. Only some of his most valuable things could probably fetch a few of them if they were truly gold coins of exceptional quality. If the young man was going to offer twenty of them for a few hunks of metal, the surly shopkeeper wasn’t going to object. A grey eyebrow lofted into a wrinkled forehead as the old man seemed to consider the customer’s offer. While making a profit was all that really mattered, Seamus wasn’t above making that profit as large as possible.

After a few seconds of silence, the shop keep grumbled an answer in his gruff voice. “I don’t know, lad, you’re not buying just some set of silverware. These are real swords, meant for fighting and not decorating.” Of course, the shopkeeper knew just about nothing in terms of what made a fine weapon and what didn’t. Many of the items in his shop were second or even third hand, sold to him cheap for one reason or another. Overton was a general store that got its stock in almost the same way as a pawnshop. “What say twenty five of those coins and we call it a deal.”

With a flick of his wrist, the card hand of gold coins folded shut and he put all twenty on the counter. Then pulled out ten more coins from his pocket. Placing five more down on the counter also. "You know more of value than you think... Deal." He dropped two extra coins down and pocketed the last three. His head lifting to look around the immediate area. "If that is the final price, it was wonderful to see your shop. Thank you." Attention shooting back to the elder, he smiled and bowed respectfully. Though a thought crossed his mind, he avoided it with a nod.

Pushing the twenty seven gold coins forward, he smirked. His gaze locked on the old man. No words spoken, though his stern exterior had almost completely faded. Yet there was no foolishness. Once the coins were directly beside the elder male, Kouichi began to gather his purchase. Awaiting the shop keeper to tell him the deal was sealed. "Two extra gold for dealing with my unusual list." He flashed a very kind smile before starting to collect his supplies. Sewing kit in one jacket pocket, calligraphy in the other. In the inner chest pocket the sword maintenance kit. The katana was slipped securely in the loop that was sewn to his pants. Last was the wakizashi, which was slid snugly with the katana. With these placed in their respected places, He lifted the fabric roll up onto his shoulder.

Twenty seven gold coins, if they were solid and a reasonable size, we worth a small fortune—far more than a couple of swords, a bolt of cloth, and a sewing kit was, but Seamus wasn't going to argue with the lad. The old clerk was of the mind to not press his luck by seeing how much t he boy might pay, so he did not haggle any further. “You're welcome,” answered the older man as he swept the coins from the counter with one hand and deposited them in the other that hovered, cupped and waiting for the treasure.

While normally Seamus didn't care for dealing with the lot from the school, if they paid as well as the young swordsman, he might have to reconsider. It was true, if you had enough money, you could afford to be eccentric. “Thanks. Come back any time,” called the shopkeeper as Kouichi hefted the last of his purchases up onto his shoulders. While his words were as welcoming as any that would come from Seamus, it was obvious that it was time for the lad to leave since their business was concluded. The clerk stayed behind the counter, watching Kouichi with artic blue eyes until the door had finally swung shut behind him. Only if the boy spoke again, or lingered, would the shopkeeper find need to say anything else. After Kouichi had left, Seamus departed as well, exiting through the door behind the counter.
[exits after Kouichi]

Transaction complete, and all pleasantries finished, Kouichi said one more thing as he left the shop. "Kouichi Aizawa." He lingered in the door for only a moment. "If you ever need help, send for me. I'll be glad to lend a hand." With the offer delivered, Kouichi left. His purchases safe with him. Even with swords at his side, the lanky form seemed far too weak to carry what he was. His strength hidden within a small package. As the door swung shut, he could only hope the shop keeper heard his offer. The click of his wooden geta hitting the wooden floor disappeared as did he, out of the shop and on his way back to the school. Lips puckering and letting out a whistle of complete bliss.

[exit]