Whew! Remember how I said Chapter 4 was the longest single chapter I've uploaded so far? Well, now Chapter 5 is. Here's where things get interesting, folks. Hang on to your seats.
"Be swayed by the wind, flutter, tumble and fall…"* Luka sang to herself, twisting the faucet closed. A burst of steam followed her from the shower, clouding up the small mirror over the sink as she wrapped herself in a towel; she scrubbed at it until she could see her face again. "This night will be dyed in red…" She wrapped her hair into a second towel, squeezing the water out of it, and pushed open the door.
Ruko lowered her hand, surprised. "Sorry," she said, giving a small cough. "Are you done?"
Luka held up a finger. "I only want to be close, to be held by you…"
"Until our sadness disappears into the sky," Ruko finished with her, the dark-haired woman's voice sliding easily into the harmony. Luka let out a laugh and twirled past her friend, leaving damp footprints down the hall to her bedroom. "I can't believe this place," she called, swinging open the doors of the bamboo-paneled wardrobe in the corner of the room. "Piping hot freshwater out to these cabanas must cost a small fortune. As in, more than the rent on our apartment. Heck, more than the apartment itself," she mused, fishing through her clothes. She selected a black, flowing top – decorative but not ostentatious – and black pants and slipped them on. Not bad, for what had once been a clubbing outfit.
Ruko, waiting outside in the hall, walked with her as she left the little house, locking the door behind her. It had darkened considerably since Al had made his third reappearance of the day, telling them that dinner would be served in the main household promptly at eight o'clock and that their presences were requested by Lord and Lady Hatsune; there was still plenty of light to see by, though, and the day's heat had mellowed into a comfortable, pervading warmth that seemed to radiate from the air and the gentle waves of the sea below. "You've changed your tune since earlier," Ruko commented idly, as they walked. Her black boots, sensibly heeled, rang out dak-dak on the salt-cured wood of the boardwalk, measuring the distance to shore in two-foot increments.
Luka frowned up at her friend, who had combined her usual pigtails into a single long braid down the center of her back. "What do you mean?' she asked, scanning the cabana coming up for signs of Gakupo. There was still time, though, and she wasn't overly worried about missing dinner.
Ruko shrugged, coming to a halt along with Luka at the crossroads between the main boardwalk and Gakupo's cabana. The tall post-light at the junction switched on as they approached, throwing their shadows down into the water. "I mean, earlier you were all worked up about Miku's mom," she said. "And now you're applauding her plumbing." She stifled a massive yawn.
"I wasn't applauding anything," Luka hissed back, flushing. "I was just saying that –" she broke off, sighed, and changed tack. "You're right, you're right. Anyway, I am still a bit worried about Hatsune-san. The way she was talking to Miku… I mean, she never did come back down," she said, frowning.
"They haven't seen each other for a while," Ruko suggested. "They've got catching up to do, probably. Hey, Gakkun!" she called suddenly, waving at Gakupo as he stepped out the door. He was dressed simply in a button-down shirt, slacks and a thin black tie; Ruko whistled appreciatively as he joined them under the light, giving the two women a polite bow.
"I'm going to steal you from Luka," she decided, patting him on the shoulder. "You don't mind, right, Luka-chan?" Gakupo chuckled quietly, sketching an even deeper bow to Luka; he took her hand as he straightened.
"My apologies, Ruko-san, but Luka-san is the only woman for me," he said, holding out his arm for Luka to take. She smiled and laid her hand in the crook of his immaculately-creased elbow, darting in to kiss him; before her lips touched his, though, she paused. After a moment, she leaned forward again, brushing her lips across the silk-smooth skin of his freshly shaven jaw. "Shall we depart, my lady?" he asked, and the three headed for the beach.
As they walked, Luka stole a glance at Gakupo. His face – warm yet solemn at the best of times, completely unreadable at the worst – provided no clues. His bearing, formal as always, felt no chillier than normal; in fact, his fingers were laced with hers. And yet there was… distance between them, somehow. It wasn't a gap Luka could guess the dimensions of, nor the cause, and she felt a little pang in her chest. Has something… changed between us? She felt it had, and the thought made her a little sad.
The winding, hilly path through the palm forest that connected the compound with the beach was well-lit, with stone lanterns blazing merrily away every few feet. As the trio grew closer to the house, however, Luka began to see other lights deeper in the forest. The warm glow they cast was different from the flickering, open-air flames of the stone torches; directionless and hazy, they somehow drew the eye before seeming to vanish between the trees, only to reappear again. Varicolored and ephemeral, they lent an unearthly air to the forest path.
"It's been years since I've seen a proper Lantern Forest," Luka exclaimed, feeling a grin grow across her face. "This is amazing." The warm ocean breeze danced through the trees, sending the fey lights into a swirl; the thinnest branches among the underbrush bore the tiny paper lanterns that gave off the glow, hundreds of them, none bigger than her fist. The craftsmanship involved – the time it must have taken –
"Lady Hatsune is quite a fan of the Festival of Masks." Al's voice was as smooth as the bow he gave them, and as he straightened up he removed the white domino mask he was wearing, sliding it up to cover the scar across his forehead. "You all look lovely tonight," he said, bowing to the women and shaking Gakupo's hand. "Please, come inside. The young mistress has requested that I serve as your general caretaker during your week on the island –" he grinned – "but to be honest, I would have to show you the way to the dining hall regardless. New guests tend to get lost." As he spoke, he led them around the stone walls of the compound and back up to the front door, where Hatsune Yosoko had greeted them only hours before.
The first word that came to Luka's mind as she stepped into the Hatsune compound's central building was 'cavernous'. The air was artificially chill, especially after coming in from the twilight heat, and held no trace of salt. The foyer combined Eastern aesthetic with Western architecture; rice-paper shoji screens patterned with plum branches set aside hardwood hallways that stretched further into the house. Artifacts she didn't recognize hung from the walls and stood on understated pedestals, with no glass; this was not a museum, and the assumption was made that anyone with enough sense to associate with the Hatsune family had enough sense not to touch.**
"Amazing," she heard Gakupo breathe beside her. He pulled away to examine a small, ivory-sheathed knife resting on a display stand. "Luka-san, this is –"
"Please, come this way," Al broke in firmly. "Kamui-san, there will be time enough for a gallery showing later, should you wish." As they walked, Luka took the opportunity to survey the house; it seemed bigger on the inside than it could possibly have been on the outside. The sharp contrasts between the stark white walls and the dark, almost mahogany-shaded wood of the floor gave the very air a feeling of rightness. Everything was in its proper place; there was no room to discuss that that was not, because it simply did not exist. Not here, not in this house. Even the courtyard garden, glimpsed briefly between a tuxedo-clad servant and the edge of a shoji screen down a hall, was neat: perfectly arranged, impeccably balanced. Luka sped up her steps, eager not to fall behind.
After what felt like ten minutes, Al glided to a halt beside a large set of exquisitely made shoji. Rich, dark wood framed and supported rice paper without a single flaw; the color was completely even, without a hint of cloudiness or speckles. Writ large on the door, with the same shine of genuine metal as on Yosoko's fan, were the kanji 初音: Hatsune. First Sound. The lamplight behind the door cast a blur of shadows across the paper, and the quiet sea rumbling of many voices in low conversation were the only real clues as to what lay beyond.
"Are we just walking in?" Ruko asked quietly, leaning in Al's direction. The heat and the day's activities had done a lot to bring the tall woman back to her usual level of energy – that was to say, she'd nearly fallen asleep waiting for Luka in the shower – but she was visibly fully alert now. Luka didn't blame her. Her own nerves felt frayed at the edges, though she couldn't have said why.
"Just walking in? No, I wouldn't say that," Al said, with a strange turn to his voice. Before Luka could try to identify it, though, Al slid the massive doors aside on whisper-quiet tracks. "It is my pleasure and honor," he boomed, "to introduce Kamui Gakupo-san, Megurine Luka-san, and Yokune Ruko-san, esteemed guests of Hatsune Miku-sama."
The room was done in traditional Kuniakkan style; men and women sat facing each other on either side of a long central aisle that led to a raised dais at the other end of the room. Behind each line of men, smaller groups of guests sat on cushions at low tables. Every single person in the hall was wearing a mask. There was utter silence in the dining hall as the slight echo of Al's announcement faded, and Luka became acutely aware of two hundred pairs of eyes on her.
Three pairs of eyes in particular, though, followed her as Al led them up the aisle to the dais and most of the assembled guests returned to their conversations. Miku, seated to one side of the dais, looked quietly relieved; she was wearing a rich kimono of red silk trimmed with golden flowers, and her mask – a sly-looking kitsune, in what looked like shaped white leather – did very little to hide the two long pigtails her teal hair had been pulled into. At the top of the dais, Hatsune Yosoko had traded her green kimono for an equally expensive one of mingled blue, green and gold; her chocolate-brown eyes glittered at Luka from the depths of an elaborately-shaped, peacock-themed mask of crushed blue and green glass. That left the final figure seated on the dais. Dressed in gold-trimmed black silk patterned on the arms and chest with elegantly-traced sakura trees and ancient, obscure kanji, wearing an open-mouthed dragon mask so realistic that Luka swore she could see the golden scales move in time with the rise and fall of the man's shoulders, Hatsune Ryuji watched the interlopers approach.
"Hatsune-san, it is our distinct pleasure to be in your presence," Luka, as the one standing closest to the dais, began, sliding immediately into the deepest bow she could manage. She felt more than saw Gakupo and Ruko following suit behind her. "I apologize for our lateness and for our inappropriate dress." She blinked, eyes still on the floor, as the man behind the mask began to… chuckle.
"Please, please, Megurine-san, Kamui-san, Yokune-san," Hatsune Ryuji said, sliding his mask over to the side of his head. The face behind the mask was tanned and well-crinkled with laugh lines; his pitch-black hair was shaded with gray at the temples, tempering what Luka would have called youthful exuberance in his black eyes. "There's no need to stand on such formality here. You are guests here and, more importantly, you are friends of our daughter. Please, take your seats. Dinner is about to be served. Would any of you like saké?" He gestured to three lacquered tables that had appeared as if by magic at the end of the aisle closest to the dais; more servants in sharply-cut tuxedos dashed to place silken cushions behind them, and the three guests took somewhat bemused seats.
Dinner passed in a blitz of luxury. Presented in Romain style, with many small courses, the meal nonetheless incorporated many ingredients Luka had only heard of before. Even the very first course – a small bowl of thick, creamy soup – was sprinkled with small, crimson threads that Luka had a sneaking suspicion were saffron. Each course was whisked away by servants just before the next was brought out; this nearly led to a small scene when Ruko tried to hold onto her plate of civet-coffee-roasted ham, but she relented after a short whispered argument with the man trying to take it from her. As the next course – a lemon-spiced fish filet – came in, Ruko set to with glee, and Luka chanced a look up at the dais. Yosoko rolled her eyes, not touching her plate; Ryuji laughed, nodding congenially to the black-haired woman. Miku, like her mother, made no move to touch the food; she barely seemed to notice the server who took her plate away.
"Now then, my friends," Ryuji began expansively, when dinner was over and the hall bustled with servants clearing the remnants of the tableware away. "Let me be the first to welcome you to Isobe-jima. I realize this all may be a little overwhelming, but you must forgive us our indulgences," he said, almost apologetically. "Yosoko and I hold joint CEOship of Hatsune Records, Inc., the second-largest music distributor in the world. I won't say we aren't comfortable." He shrugged, and it was almost possible to believe that the motion wasn't intended to draw attention to the shimmer of light across the fine silk of his kimono. "But for this week, our resources are entirely at your disposal."
"We are, of course, glad to host friends of our daughter," Yosoko put in, glancing over at Miku. "Though, as I have said, your coming was unannounced, that does not excuse our unforgivable lapse in hospitality." Luka blinked, puzzled.
"Please forgive me, Hatsune-san," she said, shifting around on her cushion to face the older woman. "What do you mean by 'unannounced'?"
"You will be granted full use of the resort's amenities and services, including chartered trips to other islands," Yosoko continued, barely pausing. "Any items you buy during the week will be debited to my personal account or that of my husband. Feel free to, as they say, go wild; I guarantee none of you will have a similar opportunity again."
Luka frowned this time, sitting forward a little. "Hatsune-san –" she began, but she paused as movement caught her eye. Miku pulled her mask aside for the first time since the trio had entered the dining hall; not enough that her entire face was visible, but enough to expose one eye, and the message for Luka in her gaze was clear enough: please drop it. Luka's mouth tightened slightly, but she sat back; just as well, as Yosoko appeared not to have heard her anyway.
"Well, everyone, thank you all for sharing a delicious meal with us," Ryuji announced, his voice expanding to fill the dining hall. "The head chef will be available outside as you leave, but I would think twice about trying to buy out his contract." There was a wave of good-natured laughter as the other guests – "Dignitaries and the like – CEOs, you know?" Al said again, in Luka's head – stood and streamed out of the hall.
Luka stood as well, stretching out her legs; the cushion had helped a little, but the formal seiza position had been grueling nonetheless. Hopefully on later days, they would be allowed to sit at one of the tables. Up on the dais, Yosoko was already drifting away through another shoji doorway; Ryuji was laughing with a short, balding gentleman in a koi mask. And Miku…
"Luka-san, it's good to see you," Miku said, stepping down to the tatami mats that covered the floor. She had pulled her mask entirely to one side, and the smile on her face, though weak, was infectious. Luka found herself smiling back as the younger girl joined her. "Have you been having a good time?"
"Yes, the cabanas are very nice," Luka replied, her smile fading somewhat. Miku appeared distracted; she glanced back over her shoulder as she spoke, and she was fiddling with one of the whiskers on her mask. Luka reached up and stilled the other girl's hand.
"Miku-chan, what was that about us being 'unannounced'?" she asked quietly. "I thought you said that your parents were okay with you bringing friends?"
"I…" Miku began, her eyes wide. Luka didn't release her hand, and after a long moment, Miku sighed. "You're right, Luka," she said finally. "I owe you all an apology. I made a mistake getting you involved –"
"Ah, there's my daughter," Ryuji boomed from behind her, grinning as he joined the two women. Al stood a respectful distance behind him, domino mask back in place; his gaze was fixed on a point just to the left of the back of Ryuji's head. "Did you enjoy dinner, dear?" he asked Miku, offering her a drink from the small cup of saké he was carrying. At her muted nod, Ryuji shifted gears fluidly, turning to Luka. "Megurine-san? No? Pity; our tōji assures me that this is his best yet." He took a sip himself, letting out a quietly satisfied breath as he lowered the cup and held it out to be taken by Al. "Please enjoy the rest of your week here, Megurine-san," he said, offering his hand to Miku. "If anything – anything at all – is not to your taste, please, let me know." With that, he turned, leading Miku along with him as he headed for the same door Yosoko had vanished through. Luka watched Miku's back, but the teal-haired girl did not turn.
"Luka-san," Gakupo said, coming up beside her. "Shall we depart? I believe –" he glanced over at Ruko, who was standing with Al; the burly manservant had split off from Ryuji, and now stood watching them with an air of patience – "I believe the open house is over for tonight."
"Yeah," Luka said quietly, staring at the shoji screen. "Yeah, I think you're right."
"Geez," Luka sighed, flicking the light off as she stepped out of the bathroom. The taste of her toothpaste was still strong in her mouth, and she poured herself a glass of water. "I'm starting to think this was a bad idea…" On a whim, she snapped the rest of the lights off, as well. It was nearing eleven, but she wasn't tired; her nerves still thrummed with the same energy they had since dinner.
Luka drew a deep breath, releasing it only as she sank into one of the sinfully comfortable chairs set out in front of the large, plate-glass doors that led out onto the porch. The moon was out, and almost full; silvery light painted the swooping cliffs white and lapped across the tops of the gentle waves that were now beginning to venture across the cove. She took a sip of the water – teeth-achingly cold and pure as the moonlight, she was sure, though it was just tap water – and tried to relax. The sudden distance she felt from the vision bothered her, though; with the doors shut, the air held no trace of sea salt, and it was refrigerated to a chill. Luka felt a sudden need to get outside.
The glass door slid aside like the runners were oiled every day – they probably were – and Luka stepped out onto the porch. The night was still warm and surprisingly humid, and for the first time that night she was glad of the thinness of her shirt. Stepping forward, she leaned against the railing; it was the same warm, buttery wood as the boardwalk, sun- and spray-cured to a lovely silver-gray. She didn't think she could get a splinter from it if she tried.
Listening to the near-silent wash of the sea against the pillars below, Luka was struck with a sudden wave of homesickness stronger than any she had felt in years. Even at school, her parents had never been more than a day's train ride away; but to be honest, it wasn't her parents she was missing. It was her apartment, with its battered old couch and frayed rugs; it was Cryptonight. Meiko-san and Kaito-san probably thought she was dead, Luka thought with a sniff. She missed dancing.
"Luka-san?" said a quiet voice behind her. Luka jerked around, arm half-cocked to throw the glass; she relaxed as the figure that had spoken stepped forward into the light, resolving into Gakupo. The purple-haired man was still dressed in the clothes he had worn to dinner, though his tie was undone and now hung loosely around his neck. "I'm very sorry to intrude," he said. "May I come in?"
"Get over here," Luka said, smiling. As Gakupo joined her at the railing, she took his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. "I don't know about this, Gakkun," she said after a moment. "None of this feels right. It feels like… I don't know." She snuggled under his arm, letting his familiarity drive away her previous thoughts.
"I know what you mean, Luka-san," Gakupo replied, looking out over the railing at the sea. Under his arm, Luka cracked open an eye, looking up at him.
"I keep telling you not to call me Luka-san," she said, poking him in the side. "We've been dating for months now, and we've known each other for years before that. Can you call me Luka? Just once?"
"Luka-san…" Gakupo said, sighing.
Luka poked him again. "Close," she said. "Try again."
"…Luka," he said, after a long pause. Luka closed her eyes again, leaning back into his chest.
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked. She leaned up to kiss the line of his jaw. "And now…" She slid a hand across his chest, slipping it between the buttons on his shirt to the smooth skin beneath.
Gakupo stiffened. "Luka-san, what are you doing?" he asked. Luka sighed against his neck as she reached up to his collar, undoing the first button there.
"I would think that was obvious," she said, moving to the next one. "I… am… seducing you," she continued, her voice as slow and deliberate as her hand. As she reached the next button, however, Gakupo's hand fell on hers, stilling it.
"Luka-san," he said quietly. "You don't want to do this." He took a step back, still holding onto her hand. She followed him, only to be met by his hand, gentle yet firm on her shoulder.
"Yes, I do," she insisted, pressing forward against him. "I do." She reached up and bent Gakupo's elbow, taking advantage of the lapse in pressure to wrap her arms around him again. "Gakkun, what… are you saying…?"
"Luka, look at me," he said. She met his eyes with hers, and he smiled gently at her, stroking her hair. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I know it's hard… but I'm not what you need, Luka," he said. "I think you're coming to realize that."
"No, I'm not," Luka protested, squeezing him tighter. "I'm not, Gakupo. I…" But she was. That was the gap that had sprung up – no; it had been there for some time. It had just widened slowly, unnoticed, until it was impossible to cross anymore. Luka pressed her head into Gakupo's chest, letting her quiet tears sink into his shirt. He held her.
"How long ago, do you think?" Luka asked finally, pulling away from him. "Well, I mean…" she swallowed hard, then looked up at him again. "When did you realize…"
"Luka-san," Gakupo said suddenly, "Do you remember what I said to you on the day of your graduation from high school?"
Luka smiled despite herself, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. "Of course I do."
"I promised to protect you, to be your samurai, for as long as you needed me," he said, smiling himself. For an instant, Luka saw him as he had been back then: a sixteen-year-old boy, looking uncomfortable with his school uniform buttoned to the neck like always, but burning with determination as he shouted his promise to the world. "That promise has been fulfilled, Luka-san. You need someone new now. You know that I will gladly follow you to the ends of the earth. I will face any foe, any obstacle, you set me against. I love you, Luka-san." He smiled again, a sweet, sad smile. "But I cannot be the one you're looking for." He turned away.
"Gakupo," Luka said quietly, close behind him. Surprised, he turned, and was utterly blindsided by Luka's palm as she gave him a searing slap across the cheek.
"Luka-san," Gakupo said, holding his hand against the angry red handprint on his face.
"The last I knew, samurai weren't allowed to break their oaths of service," Luka said, not meeting his eyes. "Do you want to commit seppuku for your cowardice? When the hell –" she broke off, swallowing hard. "When the hell –"
"Luka-san, I –" Gakupo said, lowering his hand slowly. She grabbed it, her palm warm against his, and looked up at him, eyes blazing through her tears.
"When the hell did you get to decide that I don't need you anymore?" she whispered, placing her hand gently on his cheek. Tears were streaming down her face now, but she ignored them. "That's not something you get to decide all by yourself…"
After a long moment, Gakupo closed his eyes. He placed his hand over hers, the pain and the warmth intermingling. They stood there for a long time, until finally Luka pulled away.
"Kamui Gakupo, I hereby release you from my service," she said. "No longer are you my samurai. I'm declaring you a free man."
"Luka-san?" Gakupo asked. Luka smiled at him, holding out her hand.
"I don't want a samurai who will do whatever I tell him," she said quietly, meeting Gakupo's eyes. "I want a friend, one of the best friends I've ever had in my life, to continue standing by my side, giving unwarranted advice about term papers and wearing ugly swim trunks. Whether you know it or not, Gakupo, I want you. Of course I do. Don't ever think otherwise."
Gakupo suddenly felt his vision go misty. "I understand," he said, taking Luka's hand. "Then, Luka-san, I am proud to call you 'friend'."
Luka smiled. "Me too, Gakkun. Me too." She stepped back, accidentally running into the railing. The wood was sturdy, but it shook under the impact, and Gakupo's eyes widened.
"Luka-san," he began, starting forward. He was too slow, though, and Luka turned in surprise as the glass she had left on the railing fell, shattering into a crystalline galaxy of shards as it hit the wood of the porch.
"Oh, no," Luka sighed, looking down at the fragments littering the deck. Most of the glass had broken into small chunks and glittering diamond dust, but several larger shards glinted in the moonlight, wickedly sharp prisms that seemed to dance in the darkness. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
"Here, Luka-san, don't move," Gakupo said, bending down. He picked up the largest shard, cupping it in his palm, and set to work on the smaller fragments. After a moment, Luka joined him.
"I can –" he began. Luka shook her head, a small smile on her face.
"Let me do this, Gakkun," she said. "We're equals now, remember?" She smiled at him, and snatched a piece of glass away from his hand.
When the shards were safely in the trash can, they found themselves back on the porch again by some unspoken agreement. Their shoulders rubbed together as they stood at the railing, but the contact felt different this time. Rather than the subtle heat she had felt before – entirely imagined, she supposed – Luka now felt a deep, abiding warmth. She leaned against him, and he made no move to pull away.
"So, um…are you…?" Luka asked after a moment, unsure of how to put it. To her surprise, Gakupo flushed red.
"Not… to my knowledge, no, I am not," he said, giving a small cough. "Rather… since I was a young man, old enough to begin considering… matters, I have not felt sexual attraction. To anyone, ever," he added, at Luka's incredulous look. "I find it makes life… simpler, in some ways. And… more complicated, in others." Luka nodded slowly.
"You're bleeding," she said suddenly, looking at his hand. A thin crimson line – black in the moonlight – traced across his fingertip, and a trail of dark liquid meandered slowly down his skin.
"So are you," he said, indicating her own hand. As she looked, she saw he was right; a drop of blood seemed to hang on the end of her finger before it fell, a single black pearl, into the quiet waves below. She let out a laugh.
It was a ridiculous thing to laugh about, but she kept laughing, even though she didn't feel like laughing at all; and Gakupo was laughing with her, with his uninjured hand around her shoulder, and hers around his; and when the laughter turned to tears, and back to laughter, and then to something in-between, they cried for what had been, what could have been and what could never have been, and they laughed for what the future held.
They laughed together.
Hey, for once it's a non-threatening chapter ending. That's good, right? Kind of?
Music! (Again, these are all extensions for that YT video site I can't directly link to.)
* This song is Akahitoha: watch?v=UO52OoC0HhA. The lyrics, for once, have nothing to do with the plot. Or do they…? (They don't.)
** The song that should be playing when you envision this house is 'Inside the Tam House', from the soundtrack of Joss Whedon's Firefly: watch?v=f4mQ9-J02dI
Just Be Friends: watch?v=VoPzP-MwcLI
Various other notes:
Hatsune Ryuji's given name is written 竜二, meaning 'second dragon'.
Romain… you'll notice, or you will if you've been reading the notes for each chapter, that I've been equating a lot of Kuniakkan things with Japanese things. There's a reason for that: Kuniaku is basically an alternate-world Japan. Roma, the country Luka notes the dinner style comes from, is alternate-world Italy, or an alternate-world Roman Empire. That likely won't have any bearing on our favorite four, but for the sake of worldbuilding…
A tōji is a saké brewmaster. It's a hereditary position, and well-respected among artisans. Ryuji pays the Hatsune tōji quite handsomely in exchange for his exclusive patronage.
Seppuku is the ultimate act of penance a samurai can perform. Known vulgarly as harakiri, meaning 'stomach-cut', it's ritual self-disembowelment. Luka is furiously suggesting that Gakupo's behind the times.
This chapter was difficult to write, and I'm really anxious to know if it went well. If you have time to favorite me or the story, please consider leaving a review as well, just to let me know what you thought of it. Thanks!