xp_logs | Log from Friday afternoon

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The news of a new Japanese student is enough to bring something vaguely resembling a smile to Shiro's face. After finishing up a last bit of work, he pulls on a big grey Xavier's hoodie-sweatshirt and calmly walks down the stairs to find Shinobi. He's lucky enough to spot him just outside the main entrance to the mansion. "You're Shinobi?" he asks politely in Japanese.

It isn't hard to miss Shinobi, sitting on the stairs leading up to the front entrance as he is, red-dyed hair contrasting rather sharply with the white of the snow on the ground and the white of his warm jacket. He brightens at the familiar language from over his shoulder, transferring his mostly-smoked cigarette to his hand so that he can offer a smile without the cancer-stick in the way, bobbing his head in a nod up at the newly-arrived Shiro. "That's me," he confirms, sliding easily into Japanese himself. "You must be Shiro. Pleasure to meet you more properly."

"Likewise," Shiro replies, bowing slightly himself. "Have you settled in all right, yet? I suspect it's quite a transition for you, escaping your father in Paris and running away with the X-Men." The hint of a grin has not disappeared from his face, although his manner of speaking has noticeably changed to a much more direct, casual style.

Mirroring the bow without rising, he gestures towards a free spot of the stairs next to himself, making a thoughtful noise before allowing himself a toothy grin. "I am still adjusting, but so far, it seems to be a much nicer place than home is," Shinobi muses, though after a moment, he feels a need to amend the statement. "Not that that would be very hard, to tell the truth. And I don't think I escaped my father, quite so much as I was... anoo... convinced to allow Emma and Pete use my car for their escape."

A chuckle. "Is that so?" Shoving his hands in the front pocket, he sits down beside Shinobi, warming himself up with his powers, which causes the snow around him to start to melt. "I hope they compensated you in some way for your valuable assistance. Unless coming to America is it?"

"Oh, a chance at Emma's company is more than compensation enough," Shinobi replies with a lopsided smile, absentmindedly tapping his thumb against the cigarette's filter to jar the growing line of ash at the end loose, letting it fall into the snow at his feet. "Getting away from my father's watchful eye is an added bonus, though, most definitely." After a moment's pause, he catches the vanishing snow out of the corner of his eye, looking down to watch it with a curious tilt of his head.

"My power," Shiro explains when he sees where Shinobi's eyes are wandering to. "I ionize the air to create and manipulate plasma. A personal space heater is one of the side effects." He picks up some snow with his softly glowing hand, watching it quickly melt. "It's quite useful. And you? What do you do?"

"Given the weather here, it does seem to be a very useful side effect, I agree," Shinobi chuckles, watching the demonstration with no small amount of fascination. So intent upon watching the snow melt is he that it takes a moment before the question registers, and he looks up with a vaguely sheepish grin. "Ah.. apologies. I don't have much opportunity to see such visual abilities used. What do I do?" Pausing a moment, he decides a demonstration of his own would only be fair, bringing his cigarette around to be clearly seen before his free hand rises towards it - and consequently, through it. "Body density manipulation," he explains. "Intangible, rock-hard, and anywhere in between. The first was very handy whenever I got grounded."

"It also serves me well when I'm in the mood to be alone," he adds, "since it also permits me to fly. And believe me, you'll see people using their abilities quite often here. Well, those who know how to use them, that is." He shivers a bit, so he increases the intensity of his powers to warm himself up more. "That's quite amazing. Does increasing your density affect your strength in any way?"

"Not very much, but when my fist is more solid than normal, I'm told it's akin to being smacked in the face by a brick," Shinobi shrugs, smiling wryly as he finally brings his cigarette back to his lips, content to loosely hold it between them. He's obviously been smoking for a while - at least long enough that he can still speak very clearly despite the cigarette to speak around. "I must confess to a bit of jealousy. Flying must be wonderful."

Shiro shrugs, although the grin on his face grows a bit wider. "Well, I guess it is to anyone who has never done so before, but for me it's just another thing, you know? I just have to remember not to challenge anyone to a race in the air, though. People cheat. Especially the teachers."

Blinking, Shinobi looks rather amused by the observation, tilting his head curiously as his head tries to decide what the story that doubtlessly involves could be. "Engage in healthy competition with the student body, do they?" he hazards, grinning cheerfully.

"Some of them do. I challenged Ms. Munroe to a race a few weeks ago. She's the black woman with white hair. Anyway, she flies, too, so once I asked her if she wanted to, she just flew off ahead of me without waiting." He smiles as he recalls the memory. Where is she, anyway? He hasn't seen her in quite a while. "And after that, she tried pushing me away so I wouldn't catch up to her. A ruthless woman, she is."

"Ruthless women are the best kind," Shinobi replies seriously, head bobbing once in a sage nod. "You always know where you stand with a ruthless woman. They never leave any room for guessing."

"Wise advice, Shinobi. Is there a story there?" Shiro asks, eyebrow raised.

While his initial impulse is to deny it, Shinobi pauses short, tilting his head to the side as he considers the question. "Not yet, at least," he decides after a moment spent mulling it over, looking to Shiro with a slight grin. "I imagine I'll have one once I speak with Emma about my father, though, once she has gotten a chance to rest. Never will you meet a more ruthless woman than she."

"From what I've heard and seen so far, no, I don't think I will." All this talk about Shinobi's father piques Shiro's curiosity, and since he seems so open about it, Shiro figures it's fair game. "What's the story with your father, anyway? Judging by the way you've been talking about him, he's quite the bastard."

"Oh, he is," Shinobi confirms with an emphatic nod of his head, managing to keep his tone of voice even. Years and years of practice come in handy. "He is.. mm. Well, Shaw Industries is his, as is the Hellfire Club, if you have ever heard of either. I am fairly confident he has always viewed me as more of a business investment than a son."

"Sounds like my uncle," Shiro hears himself say before he can stop himself. He hopes the glowing aura surrounding him hides the slight blush that creeps up his face. "Yes, I do think I've heard of Shaw Industries. My cousin runs Silver Samurai, Inc. in Tokyo. If I'm not mistaken they share business sometimes. Or at least have had negotiations? I don't remember for sure."

"I know there have at least been negotiations," Shinobi nods after a moment's thought, his brow furrowing as he tries to recall whether or not any deals were formally signed. If he notices the other boy's blush, he mercifully doesn't call any attention to it. "Father doesn't keep me terribly appraised of the company's partners.. 'all in due time', he says." Gee, bitter much?

And for that, Shiro silently thanks God or Amaterasu or whoever is looking down upon them. "I didn't speak with O-Harada-sama about his business too often, to tell the truth," Shiro admits. "Not like I would have inherited Silver Samurai, anyway. Or would have wanted to. I'm not the business kind."

"I likely would be more so, if he would take the time to teach me instead of stifling my every wish," Shinobi mumbles around his cigarette, though it's more of a resigned, tired tone of voice than the biting anger he'd initially wanted to used. His surprise at the show of respect the other shows his cousin is likely to thank for that much. "Your cousin... you two are close, I take it." One can almost see the gears begin turning beneath the shocks of red hair atop Shinobi's head, his cigarette once again migrating to be held between his fingers as he exhales some smoke through his nostrils.

"That's right," he nods, running his hands through his rather unkempt hair. "I owe a lot to him. He took a lot of time out of his schedule to teach me how to handle a katana. I should show you that, by the way. It's a beautiful piece of work, I tell you. Are you familiar with swordsmithery?"

And his thoughts are derailed, at least for the moment, at the mention of swordplay. What warm-blooded man doesn't like the art of swinging sharp pointy things at other warm-blooded men? "Only a little, but I do plan on learning as much as I can," he admits, grinning lopsidedly. "I should be able to study whatever I wish now, assuming I am allowed to stay."

"Well, now that you've told me you play with swords, too, I'll vouch for you if your staying here is an problem," Shiro offers, a full smile forming on his lips. There is nothing better than yet another potential swordsman. "I'm no master, and probably hardly qualified to teach, but if you're interested, I could probably show you a few pointers."

"I would be quite the fool to turn down that offer," Shinobi chuckles, a rather broad grin coming to his own features. "I'll just have to see if I can find a decent sword in the city... or have one shipped here. The family name does have its little advantages, I must confess." He pauses a moment, and adds, "And I should probably ask one of the faculty if I can have a sword on campus, I imagine. I doubt Mister Wisdom will like the thought very much."

"No no, it's not a problem. I have one of my own, and no one has said a thing about it." The cold air, although not affecting Shiro as much as it would be naturally, has made him stiff, so he stands up to stretch and crack his joints. "I don't know if there are any quality smiths in the States, you know? Your best bet would probably to have one shipped here from Japan. There's a wonderful smith in Kyoto I would recommend. He fashioned my katana."

"I will definitely have to get that name from you... it will be a nice Christmas present for myself, I think." This was certainly a pleasant turn of events, as far as Shinobi was concerned. "Still... it is probably best if I at least ask Emma if it would be permissible. I don't wish to make the faculty any more nervous about my presence than they already are, considering... how did Jamie put it... the 'giant killer robots' my father has on his speed dial." He makes a bit of a face, scowling.

"Aa, so your father is responsible for the mecha. I think somebody's been watching too much Gundam don't you think?" he jokes with a wink. "I will gladly give it to you. Just be prepared to dig deep into your funds, if they are even still there after you've left your father. These katana don't come cheap."

"Father is more of a Macross kind of guy," Shinobi counters with a very good deadpan delivery, nodding solemnly and leaning to the side enough to find a remaining patch of snow to stick the remains of his cigarette in. "The funds should be there for a while... longer if I can be allowed to fib for my reasons for being here. It's something I'm planning on asking about."

"Is that so? Well then, I wish you luck. It would be a shame if you were dragged away so soon after arriving. Especially since you are one of the five or six people I haven't yelled at yet."

"Am I? I'm honored you find my company to your liking," Shinobi chuckles, quickly regaining his lopsided smile. "Or at least, I'm honored you find it pleasant enough that yelling is not high up on your list of things to do."

"It has been nothing but a pleasure, I assure you," Shiro says to him, chuckling and reverting to the polite style of speech in jest. "I must admit that it makes me more comfortable to see another Japanese person here. I do not believe that things will be quite as trying for me now."

The other boy bows his head slightly, his smile remaining firmly plastered on his face. "I hope the benefits will be mutual. I'm usually not very comfortable around people... especially those my own age. This has been a very pleasant surprise."

"It is not age that bothers me, but the fact that I am surrounded by gai-jin, Americans specifically. But then again, no one like Americans, correct? I've found very few exceptions to this rule."

"I'll have to introduce you to Emma... she was born in Boston, I believe. She is rather unlike most Americans, though," Shinobi concedes with a nod, grinning thoughtfully.

"She appears to be quite a character, I must say," Shiro says with a matching expression. "My roommate Alex is a decent person, too. Once you're done eating up all the cookies in the mansion, you should meet him."

"I could probably meet him before that were the case... especially if he knows of a decent Chinese restaurant that would deliver out here. First class though it may have been, airplane food is a pale substitute to what can be found on dry land."

Shiro nods vehemently. "I agree. Airline food certainly leaves something to be desired. But I would suggest finding Ms. Dane and roping her into cooking you something. She is quite an amazing chef, I tell you."

"Miss Dane... she's the woman with the green hair and coffee mug, who asked if I know how to make sushi, right?" He nods to himself, lifting a hand to ruffle his own hair in thought. "As I recall, she is not fond of snow... so I somehow doubt I would find her out here."

"No, quite likely not." Shiro chuckles, both at the thought of Lorna out in the snow, and at the mention of her begging for sushi lessons. "You'd best find her huddled up in front of a fireplace, or in the kitchen. Or possibly in her room with Alex, since the two of them are involved. Regardless, she's a wonderful cook."

"Perhaps we can find them both at once. That would be rather convenient." With a chuckle, he lets his hand fall back into his lap. "Do you suppose that if I threatened to order enough takeout for the entire school, it would lure her out into the open? Either to help us order, or cry blasphemy at me for temporarily nullifying the use of her kitchen?"

"Try posting that on the journals and see what happens. It would be such a shame to have to pick up the pieces of your dismembered body after she sees the post, though."

"She cannot dismember what she cannot keep a grip on," Shinobi observes wisely, wiggling his eyebrows with an mischievous grin. "Besides, I can bribe her into sparing me with promises of sushi lessons from a five-star chef in Manhattan if I must."

"You're just full of wise sayings today, aren't you?" Shiro teases, grinning.

"Hey, I don't get much opportunity to talk to people," Shinobi shrugs, his mischievous grin seeming to grow a bit broader. "I've got a lot of them saved up."

"I expect lively conversations in our futures, then. And now I'm going to go back inside, if you don't mind. It's too cold out, and if I warm myself up any more, you'll be speaking with a big ball of fire. And I'm hungry," he adds. He bows his head again. "It was nice meeting you, Shinobi."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Shinobi nods, the mischievousness leaving his smile, though the broadness remains. He bows his head, as well, positively beaming. "Can't have you setting yourself on fire, after all... or starving. It was an honor, Shiro. Come by my room any time."

"I plan on it. I'll see you later." Shiro gives Shinobi a little salute, then walks back into the mansion to warm up and find some food.