He laughs a bit at that, leaning back in the water.
He shakes his head, then dipping down in the water with closed eyes.
A second or three later he re-emerges forehead first, water rippling down the sides of his face. "A dare? You do not seem to know the courage of a Hare, when the stakes are so high." He gives a wink.
With that he
begins the tune, a rough one likely from some backwoods samurai or monk rather than any respectable court in the Empire: still he sings it passably well.
"Pot's boiling water,
for the fire does not waver;
in goes two rice grains.
One for you and one for I,
Watch them dance upon the waves.
A last meal before
we are to sate war's hunger;
How like us they dance
Within watery valleys,
Upon a bursting hilltop.
Fall and dip and stand,
gliding fore and dashing there
I see your sword's grace
Your sure and deadly footsteps,
That guard my grain's every move.
How few this army,
one am I and one are you,
Two boiling rice grains:
Serene meal for two soldiers
Caught within war's boiling grasp."