Streams of light filtered through the dusty book shelves. One could see the particles float in the warm light, hinting at the warm day outside of the building. The lit books were warming under the sunlight, invigorating the fragrance of fine paper in the room. The interior decor was just as quiescent as the atmosphere. Graying walls were supported between taupe beams.The wood of the shelves were sagging with age from the many book spines it had seem in it's lifetime. A few shelves could be seen with bright wood, most likely in place of a shelf that had finally given in. The occasional page turn could be heard in the murmur of shuffling paper and hushed footsteps.

Today was slow for the bookstore, sparse in customers; no doubt that most of them enjoying the good weather rather than confined to the space. One of the few people whom chose to be indoors, was a ghost of a man. If it weren't for his bulky figure, his pale skin and white hair would have been his camouflage. Even his yukata was a dull brown hue with a nondescript, traditional pattern that would slowly blend into the background. The man stood there, fingering through the philosophy section, flipping through book after book all afternoon. The book keeper would periodcally pass by the section by the back window, rubbing his eyes at the man, wondering if his eyesight was getting worse or the optical illusion was just convincing. Hell, the only reason he saw the man the first time was because the white hair glinted in the light as the man shifted. He also caught a glimpse of the man's red facial markings.

Last night was a pain in the ass to say the least. But hell, drinking the drug and watching the bitch's face in horror when he caught her hand inching toward his money pouch was well worth the slight headache that remained. Even now, he could chuckle at the thought of her reaching for her dagger, staggering...and the shock on her face as she realized that he had switched their drinks when he had bought her a drink as well. Fortunately for him, the poison wasn't deadly in small amounts. Regardless, he took the initiative to search the women's unconsious body for the rest of the poison and the antidote. A lovely parting gift on which he would use wisely. Enough remiscencing, he had more Toshihiko Izutsu's Sufism and Taoism: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts to delve into. His loose hair fell over his bandaged eye - he opted for bandaging instead of his usual eyepatch today -- and continued his reading.

She nearly scoffed when she was assigned the information collection mission. It was like they were trying to put her on vacation; weren't there kids available to do this shit instead of her? But of course, she accepted it anyway. It wasn't anything ridiculous, at least.

A lead in a small country was too predictable. It was so quiet. The people just looked like regular villagers, no suspicious behaviour from any Akatsuki member who may be using genjutsu to hide. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day, so Ririka decided to go through the shops, finally stopping at and old bookstore to take a better look at the merchandise. The dust would normally ignite a stronger reaction from her, but she could almost look past is completely; it wasn't that bad. Progress, the doctor said. She breathed out deeply before moving over to another section of books, reading the spines for anything that sounded remotely interesting.

As she often did whenever going too far away from her village, Ririka altered her appearance. This time, her hair was black, eyes lavender and non-threatening. Her skin was still fair, but unmarked by the scars and bruises she usually had (but tried to remove or at least hide), plus the small tattoos. She did away with much of her usual developed muscles and some of the thickness around her waist and limbs. Even though it was easy enough to make herself thin enough to fit into the tight little pants the Raikage left at her house, she never wanted to look so noodle-thin. Was that actually attractive? Well, it didn't matter. With her black top polka-dotted in white and dark jeans, Ririka didn't stick out very much at all, except for maybe her actual body. Her clothes shouldn't be too baggy on her in this state, anyway.

She removed a book from the shelf. Ririka didn't often look though the art sections in bookstores, but if there was nothing to do... It was a Araki Nobuyoshi photobook. In Kiri the book would probably be wrapped, but this copy wasn't. She flipped open to a random page in the book, landing on a black-and-white photo of a woman bound in a rope tied in intricate knots. Many of the other photos were similar. She should have been disgusted as it all seems to play to the male gaze, but...

Ririka turned page after page, completely unembarrassed. It didn't matter, these people didn't know her, there weren't even very many people in this place--

--except, in the corner of her eye, she could see that there was one person of importance. But this was only to collect information. Nothing too sudden. If they were going to talk, he would have to initiate that conversation.

So, for now, the artwork that danced the line between erotica and pornography would have to keep her interest.

Time idly slipped by as Jian turned pages. He let his mind wander on the subject in a strange form of meditation, letting the words read themselves into his mind and converse with his thoughts. Of course, he wasn't in a deep enough trance to let the intruder in his territory go unnoticed. Her hair was the first thing he noticed and admired. He would enjoy running his fingers through the strands, laying her down on white sheets, and letting her hair spread across the white sheets just as her legs would do the same. His lips would run across her pale cheek--

A pang of pain rippled through his temple. Fucking cunt and her poison, how much fucking longer is it going to stay? As much as he wanted to take the shortcut of throwing her over his shoulder and having his way with her in an alley he wasn't in the right condition. 'Fuck, it would be so easy but the repercussions would be a pain in the ass if I slip up in this state.' He wasn't worried for himself physically, it was more of the risk of exposing himself and slipping up on someone else. He recognized the cover of her book and held back a chuckle, letting himself stretch his shoulders back and ease the tension. 'Hn.' He recast his eyes on his own book. For a seemingly proper lady, her reaction to the book was mild. No look of embarrassment nor discomfort. It was strange. He turned the page and continued reading, although it was a half-hearted effort.

Ririka flipped the page again, looking at the very top edge of the book. It was very subtle, but she could still see, though her peripheral vision, him looking her way. He moved a little, too. She toyed with an idea and eventually decided to act upon it, changing her mind on her decision to keep quiet. Whatever happened, she could handle herself.

"I admire him," Ririka said quietly in the general direction of the man, her now-higher-pitched voice carrying a slightly defensive tone, "his work is absolutely thrilling." Her light eyes flickered up slightly, pupils dilated a little more than usual. That statement might have carried several connotations, but just because she liked a piece of art didn't have to mean that much about her. Or rather, her new persona. But it did.

Her eyes never left the book. "I'd want him to take a photo of me, too." She still sounded shameless, but spoke softly, as if she just told him -- a supposedly random stranger -- a secret. Her statements didn't exactly mean a lot if he didn't know the photographer, but the book's cover was loyal to its contents. Whether he wanted to respond or not wasn't a huge deal at this point; there was always tomorrow, always a new disguise.

Jian stood there, unresponsive, debating whether or not he wanted to go through the effort of dealing with this pretty problem. He looked at her again. He shut his book abruptly and sighed (in exasperation).

Did he want to talk to the pretty girl? Why yes. Yes, he did. Dammit, when he gets senile, life will be so peaceful.

The pressure of the movement lifted dust into the air. "So..." He put away the book and pulled out a Freudian philosophy book. "What about it thrills you?" He pealed open the first page, scowling at its fine print.

Her eyes finally fluttered up past the book to glance and him and the dust hanging in the air before looking back down to the photo she had open. "The way he captures his subjects on film...the way they're composed...I don't think anyone else can truly shoot and achieve such beautiful eroticism like Araki," Ririka explained, turning the page afterwards. It took some kind of education to talk about art in a certain way; yes, her new persona was quite "proper", for lack of a better term. Nothing to blush about, it was not dirty or pornographic, but rather erotic. Of course such art had a long history, most of which she learnt from her reading.

Ririka noted the new book he held. "I heard that one doesn't have the best translation," she remarked casually. She thought about showing him one of the pictures in the photobook, but that was probably too direct, even if it didn't contain full nudity.

Jian didn't make much of a glance toward her as he listened intently. Her tone, her pronunciation, the careful use of her words...She was educated, and possibly calculated. As much as nudity was a prominent subject in art, it took an open mind to accept eroticism as a form of it. She wasn't some amateur who picked up the photobook out of pure curiosity, she knew exactly what was she talking about. If it was some bimbo who was putting moves of him, she would have simply commented on how she wanted to be one of his models and for Jian to be her photographer. Instead this women commented on how well the photographer had captured the subject.

The subject of photography wasn't one of his fortes. Of course, he dipped his hand into many subjects as a avid reader, but photography was one where he dipped his pinky finger in and felt sated. He could look into a photograph and make a general criticism about it, however, if this women knew what she was talking about...He wasn't going to put himself in the position of discussing Araki and erotic photography with this prim critic with a nice ass. The paragon option would be to relate to its realism. If he couldn't comment on the technique, he would comment on the content. "His photography does capture the experience well unlike some other photography in his genre. The way Araki captured the model's gaze..." He didn't change his expression, although he entertained the thought in his mind. "Is very real."

"Then, it should be amusing to compare my understanding with this version." He chuckled. "Translation is a form of interpretation in some respects." He eyed the text on the first page. "So I thank you for the input, miss"

It physically pained Ririka to act so stupid...on purpose, anyway. She didn't even make any visual art at all, but knowing more than the average person might on the topic, this persona was easier to embody. Not that she was actually expecting to talk to anyone about the topic at all, but anyway. "Ah, so you're familiar with him," Ririka noted, looking up from the book again, "many people don't bother to learn his name since they dismiss his work immediately after simply glimpsing at it. A shame," she added, a tiny sigh accentuating her tone, "as he's one of the best. I feel like I'm in the same room as the people in his photographs, like I'm invading. Ah, sorry, I'm rambling." A little smile formed on her face, carrying the amusement Ririka barely ever felt. At least with the genjutsu, everything was infinitely more convincing on an aesthetic level.

She, if she were Ririka, would say that it was wrong and that the newer version would be the one worth a read. Of course, she didn't even know the original language it was printed in so she would never know for sure how close it was to the intended reading, though. "Hmm. That's right, I suppose," she said simply, "and I'm Koshiro. Shuuko," she added. Scanning the bookshelf nearest to him, she peered at the authors.

"I like Foucault," she stated, looking at a particular spot on the shelf, "The History of Sexuality is right there. I think you'd like that book if you read Freud." Shuuko was so open about these sort of books, and why wouldn't she be? Such texts were studied in schools. The titles just averted many people...and the content...and the fact that its readability was on a bit of a higher level. In any case, there was nothing wrong about it. Shuuko never became a shinobi and loved to read. No ulterior motive or anything like that.

She was endearing. Yes, he could feel endearment! Her objective look on erotic literature and art was charming. She commented on the aesthetic components, how well composed the image was, how the photographer framed the piece to immerse the audience in the scene...But those words weren't what he wanted. She wasn't reflecting the mentality he wanted his prey in. What she lacked was the curiosity and the desire to be dominated, and the fear of complete submission...Hell, he didn't look into Nobuyoshi for his artistic technique. Jian saw that someone was looking through the same lens he saw the world through, then afterward he took time to appreciate the technique, but that's as far as it went. If anything more...He was inspired that night. He didn't address her rambling.

In the end, he could speak about sex and sexuality without innuendo to this girl if the situation was this dry. "Ah, Micheal Foucalt. I've read that. Aside from his applause-worthy theory of the Repressive hypothesis, I enjoyed part 4 as it describes the deployment of sexuality, challenging and dismissing the western view of governmental power over society and reassessing power's true nature." He finished the page he was on and turned to the next. "Good suggestion though, Koshiro-san."

He read down the pages quickly. Sigh, nothing ground breaking on Freud here. The translator is rambling about some personal experience in relation to the chapter. "Mitsukuni Jiro. My pleasure." He nodded his head in a half-assed bow.

Shuuko was still mostly surface information at this point. The funny thing was that Ririka was essentially always the bottom -- despite several fantasies -- and was deathly scared of complete submission, that loss of control she always wanted to have. Contrary to what some may believe, the bottom had a lot of power; if there was none at all, it wasn't play anymore. Didn't want to get choked to death, after all...

She didn't know many people, if at all, who read a fair bit of the books she liked to read -- but then again, there wasn't many people who wanted to talk to her, either. "The repressive hypothesis is quite sad, isn't it? People think I'm too open. I don't think many would even approve of the fact that this book is in my hands, but it's lovely," she remarked, "the entire thing is all very lovely." Ririka didn't hear such flowery language about any sexual topic ever; it was usually expressed in some filthy or vague speech. Well, she was an academic, but not one too rigid at all, hopefully.

"I heard they're more open about sexuality in other continents," she started, "I wish it was like that here so I wouldn't have to hide so much..." a small smile formed on her lips, though just a small hint of wryness showed her distaste for the social standards. "...I know, 'you should be ashamed', right? But I don't know...I don't know." Ririka shook a finger at the quotation, mimicking the supposed people who reprimanded her. She wasn't being disturbingly overt or closed off. She was just...comfortable. It was easier if she didn't look like herself.

"Do you think it's wrong, Mitsukuni-san?" Her expression was some kind of mixture of curiosity, worry, and some upset stemming from the state of their society.

Jian didn't think this women was all too open. She was closed off in different ways. She may be open-minded, but he could sense there were some switches that were off inside that most left on. She was an enigma, and a hell of a lot more interesting than this piece of crap book. He would read the rest of it, tear its arguments up in his head and regurgitate a better argument and theory.

"Lovely, would be a way to describe it..." He would say inspiring or thrilling, but lovely wasn't his first choice.

I find that repression has this effect of suffocating all that desire and necessity, and compressing it, and compressing it until....it's brimming essence spills over.

I enjoy the repression. I enjoy society and their discerning eyes as I do everything they've ever wanted to do behind closed doors. I'll do what I want, and their ignorance and envy will fuel me. Jian smiled to himself. Ah, he would disappoint this poor girl if she could read his thoughts.

Instead, he felt generous. He would entertain the cute thing; give her the answer she wanted. "Ah, Koshiro-san." He closed his book, turning toward her in sudden concern. His tone was carefully pitched to voice his character. "The current society is depressing. Intelligent beings like you and I, who see life for it's true meaning and actually take the time to evaluate, are oppressed to conform to our gender roles and stick to the status quo, while power and dominance is prized over wisdom and simple human rights. When truly, people like you should be governing the country to maintain peace and understanding between the people. It's such a shame to be apart of such a corrupt society." He shakes his head disappointed.

Alright, little Shuuko. Be a little sweetheart and entertain me.

Shuuko would be more open around people who she didn't just meet, but he didn't know that. Despite this, Ririka didn't think she was hiding the newly fabricated personality away too much. Though it is true, of course, that he didn't know much this persona. And perhaps that wasn't a bad thing as to know everything immediately had to be boring. Why else would she read?

She just blinked at the end of his little speech and waited for a moment before responding. Ririka felt Weltschmerz quite strongly, but she didn't have to project that same feeling on Shuuko. Both of them wanted to laugh, but the latter was more polite than the former. "Ah, and what is life's true meaning? A scientist might say 'to reproduce' and a philosopher might say 'to find out'," she began. She read a lot about gender and its roles, but dare not bring up her collection of books by Simone de Beauvoir and Miya Yoshiko and and and...well, if she started, it might be hard to stop. "I don't want to govern any country, though. I might have ideas, but that's too much power, don't you think? Would you govern the country?" Ririka stared at him, though her current appearance made it much less intense than if she was glaring at him with her usual sharp, dark eyes. But soon after she held Araki's book over her lower face and laughed behind it.

"But you don't really believe that, do you, Mitsukuni-san?" she asked, finishing off the last few giggles before lowering the book again. "It's fine if you don't agree with me, you know. I'm sure a lot of people think it makes them favourable to me, but surely it means nothing if you don't believe in it." She closed the book and put it back on the shelf before stepping over to the bookshelf closest to him. Her eyes ran along the spines of the books before pulling one out.

"I like Lacan, too. Maybe you've read him? He writes about a word called 'jouissance'. The current translation isn't the best, but it essentially means to feel pleasure and pain simultaneously, so much that you lose yourself, like you're one with the universe. But this feeling doesn't exist," she explained, flipping through the pages, "and that's a shame." She pressed the book into his chest before crouching down to look at the books on the lower shelves. "Not that it prevents anyone from ever trying to come close, though."

Jian almost rolled his eyes at the response he deemed unsatisfactory. Hm. What a boring response, but I guess I have to go with it. With his act, he closed his eyes and crossed his arms, to pretend he had to think about his answer. He made an appropriate pause in mock contemplation before he responded. "Life's meaning is a conversation for another time. But that aside," He brushed off the topic. It was not a can of worms he wanted to open right now, not that he couldn't do it. He just wasn't in the mood when he had much more entertaining topics to fish. He chuckled, "Governing a country is not the kind of power I would ever want to harness. I prefer much humbler means. You on the other hand...Ah," He smiles kindly, his eyes narrow and his lips curl ever so slightly. For those who knew him, the look was eerie and out of character. "With your charm and intelligence, I imagine you could apply an appropriate system of self-balancing powers while applying those ideas." The only thing that trumps charm and intelligence, are money and sex in this world. If she really wanted to make waves, all it would take would be to sleep with the right bank accounts, then blackmail. It was possible for her, under that theory.

"I do believe that society is corrupt and it's a depressing place." For people who don't embrace it. "Gender roles are constricting and the status quo is used as an inappropriate measure of worth." Not that it matters to me. I've got most of the privileges of this corrupt society anyway. Whores are cheap and it pays to cheat the system. "Difference in opinion is the spice of life, to broaden views and expand horizons. I wouldn't say what I don't believe in, I would be depriving both of us an opportunity to grow."

But that's okay, because there is nothing you can teach me, Shuuko-chan.

He raised an eyebrow to the book pressed to his chest. "Avoir la jouissance de quelque chose?...Wasn't it, Koshiro-san? He put the book back on the shelf and watched Shuuko's anatomy configure to her new position. The muscles of her back stretched to her rounded spine, her weight balanced on her lower body. "It is a shame jouissance doesn't exist though. It makes one question what Araki's subjects were feeling then. Was it only plaisir, or was it an imagined capture of jouissance?" He leaned back to a sturdier bookshelf. "Which reminds me; have you tried Jacques-Alain Miller? He goes over some good points with Lacan's structure of exhibitionism in Perversion." He was considering leaving...He had better things to do than play mind games with some book worm with a non-existent libido.

He was playing with Shuuko. Condescending. She could see it obviously; she needed to do something else somehow. Ririka thought about life a lot, but she didn't like talking about it much, so that was fine by her. "'Charm' is really just a euphemism, isn't it? Charm is manipulation." She smiled, just a little bit slyly. "And you sound quite charming yourself..." Her tone was more playful than suspicious. Shuuko wasn't as hard-edged as Ririka, who believed that every single person who ever spoke to her had some kind of ulterior motive.

"You sound like a textbook. Nobody out of class ever talks like that -- to me, at least. Except for a 'charming' few who had to agree with everything I said because having the body akin to those in adult films tends to carry a certain connotation," she said without any bitterness in her voice. In fact, there was a hint of amusement instead. "It's boring if all people are going to do is affirm what I think, yes."

She laughed lightly a few times. "Yes, but that's not the exact context I meant..." Her hands hovered over the books. "His photos are extremely beautiful, so it must be jouissance... Ririka trailed off momentarily and sighed gently before continuing on.

"...I swore I felt it once. But I just passed out and woke up so ridiculously sore that I couldn't even get up. Not that I even could if I wanted to," Ririka admitted very quietly -- so quietly that it could quite possibly be because it was actually true. Perhaps it was a little vague to even read between the lines, but there was something else there. "...Anyway, I could be in an Araki photo. His usual models are thinner than I am, but I think it's fine. I should write him sometime."

She pulled out a book by the author he just mentioned and straightened up again. "No. But I've read everything I could by Lacan, so this should be a good follow-up." Turning the book over, she quickly read over the back cover. "Thanks, Mitsukuni-san. I needed something else to read." She looked up at him. "Though I could look at Araki photographs forever. Kinbaku is an art by itself, don't you think?"