Chapter Text
“What are you doing? Get off my ship.”
Manju smiles, gasping dramatically as he raises a hand to his chest, as if wounded. “My, my… Still as prickly as ever, Madam.”
Jagae deadpans, “Get out.”
The wind blows cooled salt on their faces, respective Iridescent Wave crew pausing — doing double takes — at the sight of the leader of their rivaling guild, the Red Knot, on their ship.
They don't dare to make sound as they attempt to get back to work. Their captain was fuming; it's hard to ignore the only person who gets their hardy, cheerful leader so agitated.
“Cruel,” Manju snickers, twisting his kiseru around before carefully leaning back onto the guard rails, propping an elbow. Languidly — much to Jagae's dismay as she clicks her tongue, her grip surely white beneath her overflowing sleeves — he lights up his kiseru, inhaling slowly.
Her giant fan drops to the floorboards with an undignified, shaky clack.
Manju watches the way her scrunched expression gives way into shock, anger, and fear all at once, then, to unbridled bitterness and anger.
How pretty.
“You–! Put that out right now!” She hisses, stomping ever closer to his personal space.
Perfect.
A corner of his lip lifts, waiting until Jagae is close enough for them to share breaths. As she was about to berate him, only then did he pull his kiseru away, exhaling.
Jagae coughs as his mix of red bean fills her lungs, eyes instinctively closing in the face of it, nose scrunched as she swats the smoke away. Well, try to.
He mentally compliments her efforts.
Manju leaned back further, facing the free sky, blowing the smoke out until his lungs felt clean. Or something close to it. Red eyes stay on her own — glossy from the sudden polluted assault, but Manju would not call it that; just a simple scent pacifier, you see, a gift — humming cluelessly as Jagae turns red, fists shaking.
“I said,” her fist crumpled his kimono, their heads clacking… “Get off of my ship,” she threatens low against his lips, anger shining in her beautiful pearlescent eyes.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Manju chides gently, like the smoking drifting out of his kiseru with the ocean wind, “I’m here on business, Madam.”
Jagae stomps, loud like usual, except pain shoots through his foot. He hisses, slouching briefly, their noses brushing, but not enough to entirely break his cool nor his composure.
“No,” she practically spat, “you don't.”
Manju is sure with the way her eyes are darting over the rail and back to him she's thinking of throwing him overboard. Thankfully, he wouldn't be thrown, even if she really wanted to. She might be rough, but she's still a kind person at heart.
“Mmh…” — “Don’t tap your pipe against my ship!” He disregards her warning, careful to ensure neither it nor its ashes will catch fire to her beloved ship, “In fact, put that out!” — “...My lady–”
Jagae cuts him off by shoving him against the guard rail – ow, – his grip tightening briefly on his kiseru, his other hand braced on the railing.
He can feel the fabric of her clothes against his sarashi.
Oh.
“Don’t,” she hissed against his skin, eyes narrowed, “call me that.”
Manju could only grin as a flush on his cheeks blooms, one he'll argue is from the heat of the sun and less from Jagae, but the truth will always be her. His scent, his red bean smoke, still wafts in the air around them, the wind quieting in his favour.
“...Alright, Madam.”
Her breath eases.
So does her grip, enough for Manju to reclaim some dignity by standing straight.
“But I do truly have business with you.”
“I don't make deals with trespassers.”
“But Madam–”
“Shut it,” she lets go of his kimono and steps back. A shame. A hand on her hip as she scrutinizes him, mainly glaring at his pipe. Alright.
“Would this—” he raises his hand with his kiseru, allowing Jagae to inspect it: the embers are already extinguished from his careful tapping. “—help my case, Madam?”
He hears her scoff beneath her breath, bristles over the fact she lost another reason to further validate in kicking him off her ship.
“The hell you want, crummy bastard.” She deadpans, as if knowing getting rid of Manju won't be easy. She's right.
Manju smiles, charmingly this time, he thinks, hand raising to cover his lips as he giggles. If looks could kill, he is an apparent victim with Jagae, though... he would not mind so long as it's her.
Whatever Jagae will give him… he'll take it.
“You see, I'd like to make one small commission from you, Madam.”
Her brow raises. “Let me guess, hand over my ownership and rights of my guild to you, huh.”
His eyes curve. “Ah, you think so poorly of me, whatever have I done to deserve this?” He sighs with a shrug. “Much simpler than that, dear—” she cusses him out, he doesn't pay much mind to it, “—I wish to buy some of your wares.”
“No.” Jagae shoots him down, fast.
Manju pouts. “It’s for my crew, Madam. I swear it on my ship, I overheard a few lovebirds thinking of what to give their spouses once we return home… I know the lot has already amassed a great deal of souvenirs themselves, but I do know wares from your guild is one thing they have yet to acquire…”
He watches her body language subtly turn more accepting. “They are simply much too afraid of you and your crew to ask, though, haha.”
Jagae deadpans.
“And, well, you've been closed for the past few days.”
“...Tsk,” She won't argue with being closed, due to a recent thievery — personally caught by her and her crew, handed over to the local laws immediately — which caused a whole lot of commotion. The local police insisted on investigating the crime scene. There was nothing more to it than thievery. She grumbles in her native tongue.
Manju knows all of that though.
He just wanted to know when they'll be open again.
She picks up — well, kicks the sturdier end of her fan up, gracefully catching it in the air as it becomes her guard once more — her fan, scoffing. “Fine then, grab your damned crew. We're open the day after tomorrow, nine in the morning sharp and close at nine at night. Ya better free up their crumbed schedule, fox.”
…While what he said about his crew wasn't a lie, he just wanted to buy some of her goods for himself. Even if,
“I’m charging you a price higher for rushin’ me and my crew.”
Extending his hand out, Jagae stares as if he just did something offensive, “That’s a deal, Madam.”
That's not enough to shake him.
She groans, shaking him through her sleeve — she won't even dignify him with shaking him with her own hand, huh, — “Yeah, yeah, whatever! Get off my ship, ya criminal!”
Manju just smiles, more than happy to oblige this time. “Of course, Madam, I'm truly so thankful you heard me out!”
As he steps down her gangway and away from her ship, Jagae tracks his movement until he is no longer visible… The cheerful smile on his face could not be removed, his joy remaining as he went to do his remaining deliveries.
After all, the scent of red bean lingered on her being.
She wouldn't know, but the scent will stick around longer than your regular smoke. Making incense is his hobby, and he just so happens to dabble with… the ingredients his kiseru requires. This whole ordeal was pricier than he'd like, especially when his investments – his beloved, so called rivalving guild, – don't guarantee a fortuitous forecasting.