Sept 25, 2023 9:22:37 GMT
Post by harukor on Sept 25, 2023 9:22:37 GMT
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[attr="class","puppycat"]Chiharu
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[attr="class","puppycat"]your notes here
"Like that," Harukor says for the umpteenth time, winding the knot around his thumb and fitting it to the string groove. "Easy."
"Like this?" The ten-year-old replies frustratedly, also for the umpteenth time, also winding the knot around the tip of the limb but on top of the limb itself.
"No," Harukor sighs with a frown, grabbing the bow from him and showing him the correct way once more. "like that."
The child, Miho, lets out a groan of frustration as he throws the bow down, Harukor staring after the weapon with annoyance. "This is stupid."
"It's not stupid!" Harukor squawked back defensively. "You're just not watching what I'm doing close enough."
"I am and I've watched long enough to figure out that it's dumb!"
Harukor felt immense irritation surge up in him as he glared at the child, and the child glared just as vehemently back at him, as if he wasn't an almost middle-aged man and Miho a child in their third year of school. It was like watching toddlers decide over what cartoon was better than the other. To think that he had actually raised a child himself successfully— he never remembered his dear Chiharu being this much of a brat. Was this what the modern people were entitled to? Brattiness? How ridiculous. It makes him even more angry.
"Well," The hunter seethes after a minute-long staring competition. "how's about woodcarving instead? Huh? Would that do you one better?" Harkor glances up at his daughter. "Oi, we've got another troublemaker you need to take care of."
"Doing well as always, Satporopet?" Another voice speaks up.
Harkor immediately straightens up from his position on the ground, turning to the owner of said voice with a somewhat guilty expression. "As well as I can be," he grumbles as he looks down at Director Hamada, a man of stout position, greying hair and thick glasses. Harukor is dressed in the exact opposite of his suit and tie— an old attush robe he had the pleasure of borrowing. "there's only so much I can do with the people who aren't interested enough."
Hamada laughs. "Nonetheless, people who come to you must be taught the ways of your culture, even if they are unenthusiastic youngsters. That's why we've set up your outlet."
The hunter looks around at the various people that have gathered at his and Chiharu's stall. They're people of all ages, mainly children interested in archery, but the elderly women and men have taken up weaving and woodcarving on Chiharu's behalf. Unfortunately, he seems to be stuck with the immature type of people. But it's good to see the incredible amount of people that have shown up at the Culture Day event at Tokyo's Community Hall, and the building is bustling with activity. After they're done, he hopes he can try out that Norwegian farikal everyone seems so keen on.
"Just doing my job as a hunter." Harukor salutes jokingly, but there's no mistaking that perfect posture only a soldier is capable of.
"Of course." Hamada agrees. "It's uncouth of society to forget about such a unique culture belonging to their country. Make the best of your opportunity, Satporopet." Hamada leaves.
"... Right." Harukor thanks him, if not a little stiffly, before he returns to teaching.
"Like this?" The ten-year-old replies frustratedly, also for the umpteenth time, also winding the knot around the tip of the limb but on top of the limb itself.
"No," Harukor sighs with a frown, grabbing the bow from him and showing him the correct way once more. "like that."
The child, Miho, lets out a groan of frustration as he throws the bow down, Harukor staring after the weapon with annoyance. "This is stupid."
"It's not stupid!" Harukor squawked back defensively. "You're just not watching what I'm doing close enough."
"I am and I've watched long enough to figure out that it's dumb!"
Harukor felt immense irritation surge up in him as he glared at the child, and the child glared just as vehemently back at him, as if he wasn't an almost middle-aged man and Miho a child in their third year of school. It was like watching toddlers decide over what cartoon was better than the other. To think that he had actually raised a child himself successfully— he never remembered his dear Chiharu being this much of a brat. Was this what the modern people were entitled to? Brattiness? How ridiculous. It makes him even more angry.
"Well," The hunter seethes after a minute-long staring competition. "how's about woodcarving instead? Huh? Would that do you one better?" Harkor glances up at his daughter. "Oi, we've got another troublemaker you need to take care of."
"Doing well as always, Satporopet?" Another voice speaks up.
Harkor immediately straightens up from his position on the ground, turning to the owner of said voice with a somewhat guilty expression. "As well as I can be," he grumbles as he looks down at Director Hamada, a man of stout position, greying hair and thick glasses. Harukor is dressed in the exact opposite of his suit and tie— an old attush robe he had the pleasure of borrowing. "there's only so much I can do with the people who aren't interested enough."
Hamada laughs. "Nonetheless, people who come to you must be taught the ways of your culture, even if they are unenthusiastic youngsters. That's why we've set up your outlet."
The hunter looks around at the various people that have gathered at his and Chiharu's stall. They're people of all ages, mainly children interested in archery, but the elderly women and men have taken up weaving and woodcarving on Chiharu's behalf. Unfortunately, he seems to be stuck with the immature type of people. But it's good to see the incredible amount of people that have shown up at the Culture Day event at Tokyo's Community Hall, and the building is bustling with activity. After they're done, he hopes he can try out that Norwegian farikal everyone seems so keen on.
"Just doing my job as a hunter." Harukor salutes jokingly, but there's no mistaking that perfect posture only a soldier is capable of.
"Of course." Hamada agrees. "It's uncouth of society to forget about such a unique culture belonging to their country. Make the best of your opportunity, Satporopet." Hamada leaves.
"... Right." Harukor thanks him, if not a little stiffly, before he returns to teaching.
MADE BY MIZO
