micromanaging and strategy, you say...

[prevail]

[Robin's been aware that he has his work cut out for him from the getgo. He just had no idea how true that really was. Once he's got books piled in a haphazard semicircle around him, complemented by charts and loose pages of notes, it's so very evident that he has quite a lot to do and not the most accurate of information to work with.

And this might not be so bad if his memory was all there, but it's...not. An accident has assured this much, so Robin has taken it upon himself to cram every bit of knowledge he can into his mind, so that he can fulfill his responsibilities as a saniwa.

One might be given to assume this means that Robin is studying all of these things for some high and important purpose. And he'd argue that it is. As time crawls by he thumbs his way through various historical texts from a slew of authors, jotting down information as he comes across it - whether it agrees or conflicts. Just as he has in days previous, this is the way he spends his downtime.

And as with the days which preceded this, he eventually falls asleep in his pile of books and notes.

What is he studying with such determinations? Why, the swords he's got to work with, of course. Nobody can have a winning strategy without first understanding what one has at one's disposal. Strengths and weaknesses, assets and flaws, it's all right there scrawled on the papers littered around him. The sole exception being the sheet of paper pressed to one side of his face, ink smeared against his cheek]


[ooc: In Robin's original canon he had a tendency to somehow find out or notice all kinds of things about his allies. And he'd write them down in a roster. Some of these things were so deeply embarrassing or private that people were willing to risk their lives to get that roster back when it was stolen in a DLC episode. Gentleswords, he now has a roster with entries about you]

Comments

[candlecutterpikachu]

[ There are quite a few things that he notices upon arriving at this scene.

1. Oh, the Saniwa is asleep.
2. The Saniwa is asleep on his books, that means I should tidy up the place and maybe ask Kuri-kun to help me carry Saniwa to bed. But he'll probably refuse so I should ask maybe Mutsu or someone...
3. Why is the Saniwa on the floor?
4. Why is there so much paper?
5. What's on the paper - WHOA WHY IS THIS HERE WHO EVEN NOTICES THESE THINGS

He stares at the paper for a few more seconds, flicking his one-eyed gaze over the neatly handwritten lines. He is one of the swords who have less shame in what they do, so he is fine with about half of what is written there - but as for the other half... it fell past the point of embarrassing through uncool and hideous to the plain, dark and horrifying singularity of WHAT THE FUCK.

So it is with the distinctively uncomfortable air of a man who has just been informed that someone actually bothers to count his toiletries that he gently removes the paper stuck to Robin's face, pausing before shaking the human's shoulder gently. ]

Saniwa-san? Hello?

[prevail]

[It would be the height of irresponsibility if Robin didn't keep track of every little detail no matter how incidental or seemingly useless. What if someday it actually becomes the difference between success and failure. One never knows when the tiniest of factors might tip the scales.

Granted some of the things Robin has seen fit to keep track of would in most realities never become a factor in any combat scenario, but...better safe than sorry?

If the greeting stirs Robin, he shows no evidence of it. In point of fact he just slouches more heavily against his pile of books, mumbling something to himself. Possibly about kebiishi. Or wolves. Or was that kebiishi riding wolves? The world may never know, but it's cause for visible unease in his expression.

And several moments after it seems he's just not waking, he sits bolt upright, brandishing a book like some kind of bludgeoning weapon as he blearily takes in his surroundings.

Oh. He's...dozed off again, hasn't he? It's not raining hell after all. Not this day]

Ah...I'm sorry, I must have dozed off.

[Such a fine saniwa you've got there, isn't he...?]

[candlecutterpikachu]

[ He dodges Robin's book hand with natural reflexes, doing some sort of impromptu limbo maneuver before quickly standing up as to not invade the other's personal space. ]

You should go to bed soon, then. [ Sleeping on the floor won't be good for one's back... but that isn't quite the reason that had made the situation so urgent. ]

Why... do you have so much notes?

[ It's the most polite way he could put it. Who even needs so much details....??? Especially since they're...


... so.....

.... possibly incriminating????


??? ]

[acquazzone]

VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIII!!!!

[That? That is the dulcet sound of a certain spatha who's not-so-slowly working himself up into a frenzy. It's so loud, it probably shakes the entire citadel to its foundations. If his loud, thundering footsteps towards the saniwa don't do that on their own.

Shit bloody buggering fuck, what the hell is with all these papers. He's got one in his natural, flesh-and-blood hand right now, slowly crumpling as he clenches his fist tighter and tighter-- a paper with very personal information Squalo has tried so fucking hard to keep secret.

How dare he pry into his personal life. He may be Squalo's saniwa, and Squalo did make a pledge of loyalty because that's how his pride works, but what makes Robin think he has the right to do this?]

FUCKING SANIWA! What the hell are you playing at?! [He doesn't kick Robin awake, but he definitely wants to. Oh Madonna, does he want to. He wants to just do it, even if it means getting turned into scrap metal.]

WAKE UP, TRASH! I'VE GOT A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU.

[prevail]

[Fortunately, or perhaps not for Squalo, Robin does keep an actual roster on his person. Just in case. So only the latest in his notes will be lost to him.

The yelling certainly jolts Robin awake, jerking up abruptly to rub at his eyes and smudge half-dried ink against the heel of one hand. Did he doze off again while working...? It would appear so, if the rumpled paper where his face once was serves as any indication.

He looks over one shoulder and then the other, as though he expects hellfire and brimstone to be raining down upon them. Squalo sounds quite agitated, so he would have expected something to have gone terribly horribly wrong.

But it's just him, his books, and his notes...

So having concluded that nothing has exploded into utter mayhem during his lapse in conscious awareness, he looks up at Squalo]

What seems to be the trouble?

[acquazzone]

[Squalo is enraged the way one of his former masters used to be and Robin has the balls to ask what seems to be the trouble?!

The spatha wants to slice him up and mount those so-called brass ones on one of the flagpoles just for that comment.

Instead, he slaps his handful of paper on the table, smack in the middle where Robin cant ignore it, and looms over the saniwa. Meanwhile, his flesh hand is already in his coat, ready to pull out his sword and attach it to his left hand if he doesn't like the answer.

(In all honesty, he probably wont like anything that comes out of Robin's mouth.)]

Put that fucking tongue of yours to work, and explain this.

[He smacks the table again with an open hand for good measure. The poor piece of furniture is lucky that Squalo decided to rein back his strength, otherwise it would get more than just a bit of abuse from an angry sword.]

1/2

[newtimes]

( Damn

Looking at the responses so far, I feel like Mutsu should be losing his god damn mind too but the truth is, he lost it back between the years of 1862 and 1867. There is nothing to be lost here. Everyone has their secrets that they'd rather keep to themselves and Mutsu certainly has his share as well but he's more amused that their saniwa's noticed than upset.

Truly, this is a master with an eye as sharp as the swords under his command.

Maybe he should clean up these papers before anyone else's dirty laundry gets blown about. Maybe he should read some of these for himself like dirty gossip rags. Huh, he wonders if there's anything here on one of those Shinsengumi swords. Maybe he should try to carry Robin back to his room to rest. ... Actually, for that last one, might as well just leave him here. He seems pretty comfortable.

But what is a sword to do when their master is asleep. Doing nothing seems like such a waste... )

[newtimes]

( Incredibly important, please click. )

( It really would be a waste to let this opportunity slip by so Mutsu's gone ahead and prepared a brush and ink and has taken to drawing on the other side of Robin's face.

Look, bruh, you snooze you lose and surely this will match the other side. Let's see, he'll just draw a little swiggly right here on his cheek... Don't wake up, you'll ruin his masterpiece. )

[prevail]

[That was the most relevant use of a Spongebob cap ever.

Robin isn't the sort who wakes up too easily. But having something wet move across his face certainly disturbs his rest. At first he simply tries to move away, as though whatever offending thing may simply be discouraged by his unconscious evasion.

It's that shift that makes the books supporting his weight shift and lurch forward abruptly. And that of course dumps him across those books and the ones near them, knocking over one particularly tall pile with a series of thumps and thuds. One of these has the fortunate aim to land open on his head.

The finest in literary hats now belongs to Robin as he lets out a muffled groan and picks himself up.

Not without slipping on another poorly-placed book first]

[giftedbythunder]

[Normally, Futsu-no-Mitama wouldn't think to disturbing a snoozing saniwa. Eh, the guy's just human, got to sleep sometime. Could've picked a better spot to do it, but...

...well, perhaps he should give him a poke, he thinks. Or get him back to his room. Still, as he carefully navigates the literary minefield, he spots the characters of his name on a piece...

There are two categories of things that Robin might have found out. One, the myths and legends that Futsu himself isn't in any great hurry to clarify. He just wants to be one of the guys, after all, pull his weight...
Second, he was found making far too many rice balls in the kitchen the other day out of sheer excitement at them working right and chased a stray squirrel that got into the citadel all through the corridors.

It's the latter that's going to be the problem here.
In shock, he bursts out, flustered-]

Gah-! Wh- what's all this about?

[prevail]

[If Robin's got one thing going for him, he's sharply observant. Just not at all when he's asleep.

So it's the sudden shout out of nowhere that jars him right out of sleep, sitting up quickly with a sheet of paper stuck to one side of his face. He takes in his surroundings in a haze for several moments before he realizes the paper is there and...quietly peels it from his cheek.

Who knew ink could serve as a mild adhesive? Robin does now.

Having drawn the conclusion that all hell has not broken loose, he starts to say something, only to pause when he sees the paper Futsu-no-Mitama happens to be holding]

I was doing some research. The more I understand, the better I can help.

[No big deal, right?]

[giftedbythunder]

[Excuse him while he's making a bunch of rather flustered noises for a bit. Well, okay, he sees the logic in it, but still...]

Research? There's research 'n there's ... ngh!

[Dammit, boss, why've you got to-? He slams the page back down onto the desk, looking - is that a hint of red in his face, there? He's just a spot quieter as he goes on-]

Y-you ain't plannin' on tellin' anyone any of this stuff, right?

[crayne]

[ the thing about history textbooks is that they're written by those who survived it, not the ones who lived it. tsurumaru, who had come flapping in through the open window expecting to pull a fast one on their resident saniwa, found himself instead peeling a page of notes from the desk that had caught his eye. it makes him chuckle a little-- what detailed notes, this saniwa kept, from the number of troops he's lost (too many, really, what with the way he can't camouflage for shit) to the percentage break-down of the pranks he's pulled to date so far (oh this is useful for the future), but what really makes him truly smile, perhaps a little bitterly, is the one blurb about his history tacked right on top. of course the books would've said that adachi sadayasu lived until his forties. the houjou clan had been the victors, after all, and no record would have wanted to acknowledge that the houjou clan desecrated his grave.

he supposes he should be upset, but-- well, what is it that he feels? an odd mixture of amusement, perhaps, intermingled with fondness as he looks at their sleeping saniwa. awkward personal facts and textbook history abound: well, at least one man is trying to record the swords the way they lived, if not the way they'll die, and his personal feelings on history textbooks aside (vile, vile things, only good for doorstoppers and making people cry, really), he's at least not upset about this. it's a worthwhile endeavour, and-- since nobody is watching, he can leave a few surprising marks of his own.

so he grabs the ink pen from the desk and, perched on the windowsill like his namesake, begins correcting his own history section. adachi sadayasu died at age fourteen, the fushimi fujinori shrine was a beautiful place, and in-between, all the names of the owners that he had been passed down to from hand to hand that had slipped between the cracks of history. oh, while he's at it, maybe he'll look over mikazuki's history as well, oh, kogitsunemaru brushes his hair seventeen times a day, if that's worth noting, he's noticed that yasusada's ribbon is always a little crooked, let him add in that gokotai has three different pitched screams, that little child was always so fun...





by the time robin awakes, the process of updating, changing, scribbling pictures and adding in weird jokes to everyone's profiles somehow has morphed into tsurumaru trying to build a summoning circle out of the notes in the middle of the floor. by the time he puts down the last page, he hears the subtle change in breathing of his saniwa, and looks up owlishly, waggling his fingers in greet. ]

Oh, you're awake. Did you sleep well? Say, if I gave this summoning circle a spin, do you think we could get another Nue?

[ shishio's nue, after all, has such practical usages. a twinkle in his eyes: ]

We might need Shishio-kun to slay it for us again, but think about how exciting it'd be around here if we had not one but two screaming clouds of fury?

[prevail]

[Robin is informed that he's awake before he's quite aware of it himself. The fog of sleep is still heavily settled around him as he cracks one eye open, taking in the sight of...well. It's a thing. It's definitely a thing. Made of his notes...?

He sits up then, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn. How long he's been asleep, he can only guess until he gets a look at a clock. For now the more pressing concern is what Tsurumaru is talking about, and it's only with a delay that the words actually sink in and have some sort of meaning in Robin's head.

A summoning circle wrought of notes isn't liable to call much of anything, of course, but...]

I should imagine the others wouldn't particularly appreciate the screaming part.

[crayne]

[ a summoning circle made of robin's notes certainly shouldn't have the power to summon anything. but with the way tsurumaru sits in the middle wearing an amused and pleased smirk, it almost looks as though the note-circle-abomination has somehow summoned him. in his defence, his amusement stems from the fact that there's something endearing about the way people woke up from sleep. first the bleariness, and then the blinking as slow recognition filtered in past the veiled layers of drowsiness, and then finally, as the world comes to focus--

well, what's maybe not nearly as interesting is how self-possessed their saniwa is, with not even a peep of surprise in his expression. but, well, that's what makes their saniwa theirs, after all, so he supposes it's okay after all (there are always future chances, always). ]

They'll come to appreciate it once our new Nue friend comes across yet another herd of hapless animals. Everyone appreciates fresh meat. [ said flippantly, without flair, like this is a sure thing according to The World as known by Tsurumaru Kuninaga. he makes a face however. ] Except for Kousetsu-kun. I'm almost certain he subsists solely on tofu and really sad poetry.

-- hey, I can add that. [ it only takes a few moments of shuffling through his summoning circle of doom to locate the page, white sleeves scattering his work about without any real regard or decorum. he grabs the pen tucked behind his ear and pens in another line to kousetsu's profile--

"subsists solely on tofu and really sad poetry. may possibly be allergic to skinny jeans". perfection. ]

Really, I'm on a roll.

[yaayaa]

[It's perfectly normal, at this point, to pass by the saniwa's room and see him surrounded by books and papers and things. Normally Nakigitsune wouldn't want to intrude, but seeing his saniwa asleep in the middle of all that mess....he can't help curiously wandering in to look around. You now, just for a moment.

....Hey, that paper's got his name on it.



Eventually Robin might get woken up by the sound of a fox reading interesting tidbits (quietly) aloud while Naki makes an attempt to clean up the mess he made when he accidentally knocked over one of the paper towers.]

Ooh, listen to this Nakigitsune, it says that Mikazuki-sama doesn't dress himself!

Really?

[prevail]

[Conversation at first eludes Robin's comprehension. There's noise somewhere on the periphery of sleep, tugging at his awareness. But it's with sluggish reluctance that the world around him starts to feel closer, more solid, more real.

And then his neck and back are incredibly sore. He's really got to stop falling asleep on heaps of books, one of these days.

Robin sits up slowly, hiding a yawn behind his hand as he looks around for a clock and - oh. He has company.

Company looking at his notes.

Oh dear. He hasn't been able to verify a lot of that information]

Might I have those back?

[Robin gestures at the notes, quite aware that Nakigitsune seems to have been reading them. It's something for which he can only blame himself, since he did leave them scattered about]

I wasn't quite finished.

[mikazuki_munechika]

[Oh dear, what has their saniwa been up to again...? Mikazuki knows that Robin tried his hardest so they would all go out of battles successfully. But at this moment all he sees is the books and papers that are scrambled all over the room as if there had been an earthquake and their saniwa being in the middle of this mess. Well, that just means that someone has to order to this chaos, if just a little, so that Robin didn't end up with more ink on his face and important notes being ruined.

It's when the oldest of the swords stumbles over these very... special notes their saniwa made about them all.]

Hmm...

[For now the mess is forgotten and Mikazuki takes his time to look through them all.]

[prevail]

[Eventually Robin returns to the waking world, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He straightens where he's sitting, wincing a little at the stiffness in his back. Clearly, sleeping on a heap of books...or in that heap...isn't the best of plans. Not that he'd intended it, but perhaps he should be more mindful in the future.

The room is quiet enough that it takes him a delayed moment to realize he isn't by himself. When he does, he turns to see who it is. And he gets about as far as opening his mouth to greet his company when he spots his unfinished notes.

Oh dear]

Those...are fairly rough, at the moment.

[Other than his firsthand observations, at least. He might have sharp eyes but he isn't exactly sure which historical accounts he could vouch for, which is why he's grouped conflicting information together for further research]

[reprizesal]

[The first thing Sayo noticed was that Robin's asleep in the middle of a mess. He quietly entered the room and was about to wake the saniwa up. He did see the ink smear on his cheek.

But once he's close enough, the various notes caught his attention and he thought he saw...his brothers' names?

Robin may hear the soft rustling of papers, as Sayo picked up the papers about both Souza and Kousetsu, reading them in his hands. Oh, it's about those stuff? He noticed some of them, but the rest are new to him.]

[prevail]

[It's not enough noise to disturb a man like Robin. He can sleep through no small variety of things. But he isn't sleeping in the most comfortable of places or positions so eventually he wakes up.

He sits rather stiffly, reflecting on the fact that yes, books do not make a good bed. After stifling a yawn behind his hand, he looks around and...

Finds he has company.

Company reading his notes...]

Ah, those are still in rather rough stages so far.

[tomestacker]

[Who also have amnesia and practically put her father up on a pedestal? Morgan does!

Despite some initial confusion over her own appearance, and her amnesia did little to explain away her own appearance, Morgan adapted surprisingly well to life at the citadel and the sword army. Mainly because well, she's a generally cheerful person and her beloved father is here!

Speaking of her father, she's heading for his room to see if he's available. For what, that's a surprise!]

Father? Oh!

[Wow, what a mess. And Father's sleeping in the middle of it all. Knowing him, all of these notes are clearly of high importance! Maybe she should get him a blanket to put over him...

Cue minor timeskip.

Morgan returns with a blanket in her hands (which may or may not resembles Yamanbagiri's...) and drapes it over her sleeping father.]

Alright, here you go.

[And then she sits down and read through these notes. And trying not to laugh too hard (or loudly) at some of them.]

[prevail]

[Eventually Robin stirs, if only because a pile of books can only be so comfortable for so long. And thus he sits up stiffly, covering a yawn with his hand as he marvels at just how sore he managed to make his back in such a short period of time.

Really, one would think he was older than he actually is...

Not that he recalls his exact age but unlike the swords with whom he works, Robin's appearance should say something about how old he is.

It's in this state of half-awareness that he hears Morgan laugh and turns around, attention landing almost immediately on those notes]

Those...aren't quite finished.

[To say the least]

[housewaki]

[ But it's such a nice spring evening, whyever would you want to spend it indoors and asleep?

Horikawa's made his way into Robin's room with a tray of tea and snacks. A hardworking saniwa should learn to take breaks, after all, Horikawa reckons, and who else to remind them of that but their swords? And yet, it seems that the saniwa already has his own ideas of catching some rest, ah...

He considers coming back later, but leaving food unattended elsewhere in the citadel is never a safe thing. One might come back to an empty plate if they're lucky.

...though there is barely any place left on Robin's table for a cup, much less a tray as-is.

And so--

If Robin should deign to wake within the next ten minutes or so, he might catch Horikawa tidying all of his papers-- arranging them in neat stacks, possibly in alphabetical order. ]

[prevail]

[Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately, depending on point of view), a heap of books isn't ideal for any form of restful sleep. So Robin doesn't take very long to stir, sitting up to stifle a yawn behind his hand.

He blinks slowly at the heap of books in front of him as the fog of sleep gradually disperses, wondering where exactly he'd left off...

And then remembering abruptly he had to have just left those papers lying around.

Oh dear, he really needs to do something about that.

It's with that thought in mind that Robin springs to his feet, turning on his heel to collect those papers before something problematic befalls them.

But it appears Horikawa is already on that. My, he always underestimates how quiet swords can be. And underestimation is always a mistake - one that's really only desired if it's the enemy doing so]

Sorry for the trouble. I hadn't meant to doze off like that.