traditional crafts and tuesday afternoons

Again, that wasn't at all surprising to hear. For the bustling heart of the empire, it was not hard to imagine it being such an isolating place, where everyone was out for themselves, chasing their agendas with little interest in how their actions may affect others. It was not a life Hattori would have wished to lead, there was a peace to be found here in Tojo, a quietness that reminded him of the quiet after a battle long fought. The feeling of it finally being over.

"Sometimes I wonder how it has changed, back there." Hattori mused aloud, allowing himself to briefly feel sentimental. A show of weakness perhaps? "And then I think that though the names and faces change, nothing else really does." Nihon was a land that was stuck in its ways, the old ways. Stubborn, certain that it's way was always the right way. That there was no future to be found in the rotting ruins of the concrete jungles, that those who did not look or act a certain way were a lot cause.

Hattori turned to her then, his silver eyes shined like he knew too much. More than he should.

"But even if it did change, you would never go back.." He surmised. Something had happened, she was constantly dancing around that fact.