<div class="floatright">(http://i58.tinypic.com/97m96r.jpg)</div><strong>Reijiro Shiori</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=234223.msg11520031#msg11520031)<br/><br/>Despite staring into the fire, Shiori cannot help but notice the glances thrown her way as the others come to sit.  Some curiosity, some concern... although Shiori imagined that she might be imagining one or both of those.  Maybe they were just acknowledging her presence, and the concern was all in her mind.  After sparing each of them a nod in return, Keitaro, Liang, even Maseko, Shiori straightens her back, her chin tilting upwards proudly.  Flickering firelight holds her in profile, emphasizing her cold beauty, the lengthening of the shadows around her as she sits fully upright making her appear even taller than usual.  It would not do, Shiori thinks firmly to herself, for her new companions to see her appearing... confused.<em>If I even am.</em>She thinks to herself, pushing those other feelings away.  Her expression carefully neutral, she turns her face back to the fire, watching it once more.<br/><br/>The significance of Keitaro's cleaning, and of his boiling water, escapes Shiori, at least at first.  As he begins, with great ceremony, to measure out the servings of tea, however, Shiori's eyes widen.  For just a moment, her mouth forms a tiny 'o' of surprise before her lips press firmly shut.  During the campaign, Shiori remembered Matsu Sakurako talking of her husband.  She mentioned, more than once, the tea ceremonies that he had performed.  Shiori recalled being skeptical, initially, but there was something about the way Sakurako described it... the tenor of Shiori's silence changes, no longer bold and proud, no reverent.<br/><br/>Shiori watches as, for a few moments, Keitaro holds the bowl aloft, before passing it to his left, to Maseko.  Her eyes stay on Keitaro.  The ease with which he followed the ritual movements, the propriety with which he treated the ceremony, his focus, the respect he showed to them... Shiori feels something catch in her throat.  So this is what Sakurako had been talking about.<br/><br/>It was her turn.  With exquisite care, Shiori raises the bowl to her mouth.  Her delicate lips part slowly, gently, letting the rim of the cup pass between them.  The hot liquid slides into her mouth, pleasantly astringent, cleansing.  Renewing.  Shiori blinks twice, holding the bowl before her, before gently wiping the rim with the towel, and passing both to back to Keitaro.<br/><br/>Once the ceremony was fully complete, each of the samurai having taken their turn, Shiori once more turns her gaze to Keitaro.  "Keitaro-san... thank you."  She says, her tone hesitantly warm, almost as though asking permission to express the emotion.  Sitting up as she is, shadows partially hide her face, but her amber eyes seem to shine in the pale light.