Fuichi rose early that morning in order to perform his devotions without being obtrusive. He had a feeling that some of the more military-minded hohei disapproved of him, so it seemed best not to get in their face about the Fortunes.

Having found a clear space on the aftdeck, he began to set up the statues of the four idols with measured movements and his customary grace.

Drifting on the breeze, a voice, barely audible reached the Daidoji's ears. With an almost lyrical quality, it rose and fell, though where it came from was not readily apparent. It seemed on deck, then behind, then perhaps above. Sadly no figure was about. Below the railing of the ship, just a few yards out to sea, the Phoenix youth floated above the wave, hands folded and head bowed as he offered a litany of prayers to the kami of the ocean.

After carefully lighting the incense so dear to the kami of the air, the Crane priest permitted his voice to join that of the mysterious other. His devotions to Suitengu are particularly well-executed, as he has been spared the harmful effects of the sea that have afflicted some of the other crew.

Vomiting is so uncouth.

His prayers ended, he performs the ritual claps, gathers up the idols in their case, and approaches the rail. Ah! Another favored by the air. Fuichi extends his hands to the sides and permits the winds to bear him aloft. With the skill that comes from long practice, he floats a short distance to the side of the Isawa. There, he patiently waits for the Phoenix to complete his own prayers.

Finishing his own prayers not long after the Crane, he had upturned his eyes to enjoy the rising of the Jade Sun over the open sea. The ebb and flow of the kaze-kami, however, caused him to cast about looking for the source of the new wind. "Oh, Daidoji-san, it's you." Junpei turned more fully to the Crane. While the two were never formerly introduced, sleeping in the same quarters for the past four nights made it almost impossible not to know family names of each on board crew member.

While she wouldn't be flying anywhere, though she did find herself imagining just how exciting it would be, Yakusoku makes her way onto the deck, an ono resting against her shoulder, her gaze turned curiously toward the Phoenix and Crane. It wouldn't linger though. No, she had a bit of training to do.

Finding a empty bit of deck, the young woman grasps the handle of the massive axe in both hands and starts in on a series of quick, powerful practice swings. The weapon makes an audible 'whoosh' cutting through the air, the Badger exhaling with each strike. Used to practicing on a ship, she keeps an eye out for those who'd need to move by. Sure, they wouldn't be foolish enough to step in her way but that didn't mean she needed to be in theirs.

The Daidoji bows as appropriate. "Hai, it's me." He looked out to the sea. "One gets a much better appreciation of the vastness of our undertaking out here, doesn't one? Do you do this every morning?"

A spare glance is cast back to the Ichiro, followed by a perfunctory bow. Not that he expected her to respond while training.

"I would like to, but...let us just say that life on board has not been kind to me thus far. This has been the first morning I've been able to finally get back to my usual ritual of morning prayer. What about you?" He again craned his neck to see what the Daidoji was bowing at and spotting the Ichiro preoccupied with her martial prowess he decided pleasantries were better left for a proper meeting.

Fuichi shrugged.
"I hadn't thought of this, so my mornings have been confined to the ship. I grew up on ships like this in the Daidoji Navy, though, so Suitengu's wrath hasn't touched me." His kind smile blossomed in sympathy with the Isawa's suffering.

"You were in the other training group, neh? What was Moshi-sama like?"

Yakusoku catches the bow but, caught up in her training, the only acknowledgment she offers is a quick glance at the pair of priests. Perhaps she'd speak to them later. Or they'd fly away to go talk to some birds or something. Whatever the case, they could do what they would and she'd focus on mastering the use of her axe.

Daidoji Fuichi wrote:Fuichi shrugged.
"I hadn't thought of this, so my mornings have been confined to the ship. I grew up on ships like this in the Daidoji Navy, though, so Suitengu's wrath hasn't touched me." His kind smile blossomed in sympathy with the Isawa's suffering.

"You were in the other training group, neh? What was Moshi-sama like?"

"Ehhh....tough but fair?" The Isawa honestly had no good way to put it. "She's brusque to the extreme and beyond unpleasant to be around, especially if you're someone like us. Actually, she probably has a lot in common with our Ichiro friend over there," he canted his head in the woman's direction. "She appreciates physical prowess and has little interest in our talents. Not to mention I just don't think she likes men, but then...you know...militant Moshi. I'm Isawa Junpei, by the way, tensai of the Phoenix."

The Daidoji's white eyebrows shot up to his hair-line. "Have I failed to introduce myself?! My apologies. I am Daidoji Fuichi, priest of the Asahina tradition." A pause. "It is an honor to meet you, of course."

A longer pause. "It strikes me as somewhat odd that she does not value the efforts of a shugenja, particularly in battle. Isawa-gunso seemed more than capable."

"I wouldn't really know. Not about Isawa-gunso. Maybe once we're in battle it'll be an entirely different side of her. For now though she certainly doesn't seem particularly happy with those of us that pursued the more scholarly traditions." He shook his head, "We're not just living artillery pieces. Our prayers do more than destroy our enemies."

He sighed, "Apologies, I'm just still used to Phoenix lands where priests are offered at least a modicum of respect."

Fuichi smirked.

"I would not even be permitted to serve in the Daidoji navy. Of course, I wouldn't have wanted to."

"Oh the irony that the two of us should have been chosen by the Imperial Legions, especially the Ninth. I've lived on the coast all my life. My family is caretaker of a shrine to Isora in the northern Isawa provinces, so I've always had a fondness for the ocean, but I can't say I've ever had real ship experience. A few fishing vessels when I was out giving blessings and prayers on behalf of the nearby village around Kyuden Isawa, but that's about it. In truth...I've never been assigned to anywhere yet. When you're a tensai things are pretty cut and dry. You study and then you teach, then you study some more and teach. Not much time for sailing."

Fuichi's face darkened.
"My line has always been in the Daidoji Navy. My father, my brothers, grandfather, all of them. I grew up on the sea. Father was very disappointed when I went to Shinden Asahina, but he's gotten his own back on me at last. I should be in the temples, crafting the thousand idols for Benten Seido."

A grimace.

"Carpentry work is very rough, but at least I can work some artistry into it, provided Yoritomo-dono recognizes my abilities. I shudder to think what other duties they might give me."

"At least you have a goal. Honestly I don't know how I'm to help the crew. The captain asked me flat out how I wished to serve and...I fumbled over myself unable to decide. My life hasn't much been about choice, I don't think the lives of most samurai are." He looked pensively out across the ocean. "By the way you talk I take it you were conscripted into the legions? It seems this duty wasn't entirely your choice, something I can appreciate."

Fuichi looked down, a little embarrassed.
"Ah, no. It's actually a little worse than conscription. Father browbeat the rear admiral until he accepted me. Sanzaemon, my brother, told me that it came down to a Fortunes and Winds game."

He sighed. "Father never loses."

He looked up into the Isawa's eyes. "How did you come to be in the 9th Legion, if it wasn't your decision? I can't imagine that your family would just send away a tensai on a whim."

"Oh no no, joining the legions is perhaps the one and only thing I can truly say was my decision. What I can sympathize with is not having that decision since up till now, as I said, I don't think I've had a hand in any course my life has taken. I just wish my first and only true undertaking were more of a success at this point. Sadly, life at sea is harsh with little delicacy among the dedicated crew. I don't understand why life aboard ship must be so miserable for everyone. I understand that military duty is about respect and order, but there are easier ways then a gruff demeanor and unspeakable language."

Having just finished caring for his armor, Musasha comes up on deck, seeing the woman swinging an axe, he gave her plenty of space as he headed to the rail with his bucket.

He pulls out a bar of soap and a knife and lowers the bucket to dip it in the sea. As he brings it back up, he watches the young woman's kata with mild interest, never even noticing the chattering shugenja over the ocean.

Much of Yakusoku's kata is rather basic; powerful swings coupled with those meant to keep an enemy at a distance... to give time for more powerful swings. The strength of the Ichiro is apparent in each movement, the muscles of her tanned, tattooed arms tightening with each attack. Beads of sweat linger on her brow but she doesn't bother to wipe it away just yet.

"Ohayo," she greets Musasha amidst heavy breaths and continued strikes, shifting her footing some to regard him fully, "...Hida-san." See anything you like? Were she still sailing out of Clear Water she would've made the comment, no doubt to a familiar face. But here it was little more than a passing thought that causes only the briefest hint of a smile.