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om_mainClaudia encounters Shinobi in the music room. Idle conversation leads to her being swept up into the furor that is Felix Party Planning.
The music room was typically deserted at this hour of the day, a fact with which Shinobi was well-acquainted thanks to the generally surreptitious nature of his musical endeavors. And indeed, his shamisen lay with its slender neck balanced against the wall, the base resting on its luxurious wrappings of silk and padded quilts; for now, practice--if practice one could call it, since the exercise was as much about his own personal pleasure as maintaining his skill with the instrument--was concluded. Now, the incorrigible Shaw heir was carefully examining the equipment which allowed performers in the classroom to broadcast their performances across the school's public address system.
So far ... he hadn't made much headway. Shinobi was far from the Luddite Tony Stark had named him, but he certainly didn't have the same head for technology that the younger teen did. Typically, when he needed some sort of esoteric gadget, he would contact the very capable men and women in the employ of Shaw Industries expansive R&D department. This, however, seemed like a frivolous use of such resources, even to him. Besides, it had become something of a point of pride. Genius he may not have been, but he was certain he could figure out this mass of buttons and slides and switches, if he only put his mind to it. Fortunately, he had Felix's upcoming birthday to motivate him. He would not fail!
Provided he didn't lose interest and wander off. And possibly later cajole Tony or Kitty into figuring the damnable thing out for him. These were also distinct possibilities.
Claudia was in her own musical happy place, thinking through just exactly how she wanted to set up the amp for a song for class. The nice thing about having classes in music meant she got to play with other instruments now and then, which gave her plenty of ideas. In the beginning, guitar had been another hobby like chess, but when she'd learned to integrate it into computing, things had kinda snowballed. Freedom to explore was already spoiling her, and coming to the room out-of-hours gave her place she wasn't going to be in anyone's way.
Except it was already occupied. Well, people weren't exactly rude about sharing space here, if past experience was anything to go by. Well, normally. A few things were kinda off-limits, but she had plenty of ways to challenge herself. She let herself in, allowing the door to close with a slight noise behind her, and then something caught her eye. An instrument she hadn't seen before.
"Well, hello, gorgeous," she said, grinning as she moved in for a closer look, not touching the obviously expensive creation of art. The guy screwing up the wiring on the PA could wait a moment while she was kvelling.
At first, Shinobi quite naturally assumed that the greeting was meant for him, even if the voice conveying it was completely unfamiliar. When he saw the girl ogling his shamisen, however, he smiled ruefully. True, he wasn't as disappointed by the lack of attention now as he would have been a few months ago, but still. It wasn't often that people found him less engaging than an inanimate object, no matter how well-crafted. Perhaps he was beginning to lose his touch, now he was declawed.
Ah, well, c'est la vie. He was too preoccupied to mope, just then. "You have exquisite taste," he remarked, though he soon returned to his previous, hopeless tinkering. "It's one-of-a-kind. Arguably the finest completely functional work of art I own. I don't suppose you play?" That would be a surprise--and interesting, too! Far more so than a Japanese boy playing a Japanese instrument. That was about as noteworthy as a croissant in Paris.
Claudia couldn't help a slight chuckle as she shook her head. "In theory, I could maybe pick it up and noodle around, but I'm a six-string sort of gal," she admitted. "Well, not one like that, especially. I'd be terrified of breathing wrong on something that valuable. I can't even afford my own amp, at least not one I'd actually want."
She didn't mind that so much, especially since she didn't play in public, well, ever. Taking lessons was pretty far out of the box for her. "But I don't think that's what you were up to. If you keep tangling like that, you'll ruin the tone and the sixty-cycle hum will be excruciating to anyone with ears."
Well, it was a pity about her lack of familiarity with the instrument, even if it wasn't a tremendous shock. And while it was true he harbored certain reservations about allowing a perfect stranger to "noodle around" with something that cost more than some people's mortgage payments for the year (his shamisen being a rare exception to his usual disregard for price tags and love of absurdity), Shinobi was confident he could dig something up for her with less sentimental value.
Sentiment. Ha! Clearly, he'd been at Xavier's too long, if he'd started developing those.
However, her subsequent observation had him looking up from his inexpert work, brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Sou desu ka," he replied slowly, looking from the girl to the mass of electronics coming apart beneath his fingers and back again. Shaking his head, he went on, "I beg your pardon, but, though I recognize the meanings of the majority of those words individually, when you string them together in that particular configuration they become perfectly incomprehensible. Are you suggesting I've broken it?"
"More misaligned," Claudia said, coming in to start recoiling the wires so they wouldn't create that godawful humming. "The wires can't just tangle like that, it makes signal noise on the line. The kinds of things that distract from pure tones. What were you trying to do, anyway?"
The actions were automatic, making sure things didn't get kinked, because that would be bad for everyone. "Each cord has a direction and a minimum diameter you can use to wrap it before it screws up with the conduction properties. It's one of the reasons most people have switched to wireless wherever you can get away with it. Sure, you lose depth of sound, but it doesn't require as much work to keep things in order. You create a single kink in a fifty foot microphone cord, and the whole thing has to be thrown out. It's not like hooking up a stereo."
"I've never done that before, either. Not personally," he noted absently, a bit absorbed with watching her work. "Your explanation is completely lost on me, but I am nevertheless grateful for the timely intervention." Even if he were still at least partly convinced he could have puzzled it out, in time. Despite not knowing a thing about signal noise or conduction properties. Or being really certain he wanted to, for that matter; that level of technical expertise was probably better suited to salaried technicians and engineers, not the spoiled offspring of wealth and excess.
"As for what I'm trying to do," he went on, "it was mostly just trying to get the thing to work. Or work the way I want it to. I'm thinking of hiring a band for a little soiree a few of us are planning, and I need someplace to put them. This seemed like the ideal compromise between pragmatism and extravagance."
"You're going to put a live band out here?" Claudia said, surprised. "Doesn't that sorta defeat the purpose?"
But she shrugged, looking over the plugs and cables and mentally sorting through them . "It's not that hard, as long as you go by the labels. Well, and it does sorta depend on which instruments and the kind of pickup you're using. Like if you using a bridge mike on a violin, you get a different timbre than putting it in the more traditional spot on the chin-rest, but any flaws in bowing will be totally obvious."
So she really liked sound, and the physics of it, as well as what it felt like in a much more visceral way. "There's dozens of variables, but most of them you don't need to mess with unless you go outside the optimal range for the current setting. And of course as soon as you start transmitting sound, you have to chop whole sections of the waves off. Like Dolby recording. Preserve a portion of the bass notes that are too slow for fidelity, reflect and translate them into the high end, and restore them at the output. Always screws with your subs."
"That depends on how you define the purpose, really," said Shinobi, choosing to fix upon the part of her reply that he had completely understood, and sort the rest out afterward. "In this case, it's more a demonstration of my willingness to spend too much money to make this event as over-the-top as possible than a real interest in providing the best possible musical experience. Though of course, that would be a welcome fringe benefit. And in the former category, I'm sure you can't deny I'll be a smashing success."
His expression then grew mystified, as further rumination failed to shed any new light on the the stream of audio jargon that had issued forth from this strange, tiny creature. "You are certainly shockingly knowledgeable in these matters," he managed, finally. "Evidence, I suspect, of a youth tragically misspent. However, I prefer to be formally introduced to anyone that attempts to educate me, despite my obvious impermeability to knowledge." The half-Japanese mutant nodded, a clipped and informal version of the usual introductory bow. "Shinobi Shaw. I'm not altogether certain how to define the sensation exactly, so I'll default to it being a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Claudia grinned and returned the bow as best she could, figuring that was more polite than, well, handshaking. "Claudia Donovan, aspiring tech guru. And if you consider spending my formative years learning advanced physics because I kept asking 'Why?' misspent, I'll have to disagree. Not sure how good I'd be at teaching, though. I tend to ramble. And good sound-management is as much by eye as ear, believe it or not."
She couldn't help being interested, even though to her, a live band in a box was no better than a good recording. "What kind of music were you thinking of having?"
"I'm afraid I consider any moment of one's youth spent in the pursuit of anything practical or constructive misspent," he returned, grinning. "But we can simply agree to disagree. I've never really had the courage of my convictions--certainly not sufficiently to argue them to any great extent."
He was quick to drop the topic altogether, when presented an opportunity to talk about the party--though, technically, it was still supposed to be a surprise. Spreading his arms to encompass the room, and perhaps the school in general, Shinobi said, "I'm thinking of hiring an orchestra. Not a symphony orchestra, mind you, but a proper Big Band sort of group. I'm looking at a few promising west coast acts--no sense in shopping around locally, when we've all invested so much in keeping this place secret."
"I still don't get how anyone thinks hiding the fact that there's a posh boarding school here is even feasible, but whatevs," Claudia said, waving the comment off. "Hm, that's going to take some setup. You'd want sound baffles and someone mixing the board to keep everything at the best levels. No sense not having good balance when you're already planning to perform via transmission.
"I suspect a small ensemble would be doable, no more than, say, twenty? Harder if you want voice, but that's your sound guy's job. If you're going through the trouble of importing a top-notch band, I doubt that's an issue. Have the band leader give you the names of people they enjoy working with, since those are the guys that match the sound the group wants. At least, that's how I understand it from a complete layman's viewpoint. I've never been in a band or anything like that. I just like playing with sound sometimes."
Resting his elbows on the nearest available flat surface and his chin in his hands, Shinobi studied Claudia carefully. He was still only comprehending about one word in three, but that hardly mattered. Because now, he had an Idea. "Mm-hmm, it shows," he nodded, completely in agreement. "Which is what makes you absolutely the most qualified candidate to take charge of this little side-project of mine. What do you say? You obviously have a passion for this sort of thing that I couldn't hope to fake convincingly, and I promise you will be handsomely compensated for your efforts."
Screw doing it himself. The obscenely wealthy didn't need personal expertise. What they really needed was access to the people who did. It was called delegation, and it was a defining virtue of every successful businessman. Happenstance or not, it appeared he had the makings of the perfect win-win scenario before him, and that sort of thing always tended to brighten his day.
"Oh, no, you don't want me," Claudia said, backpedaling verbally and waving her hands in a stop now, sort of way. "I speak geek, not musician, really. And just because I know what the signals look like, that does not mean I'm qualified to run things like that. If you gave me control, I'd say screw the band because you won't know the difference between that and good vinyl anyway. Well, with the right turntable and stuff. And machines don't need breaks and food and stuff. Not to mention some crazy story as to why they're not on a stage in the room with the rest of the party."
She didn't want that kind of responsibility. When she'd relied on people, they let her down, and she was not going to do the same. She just saw things and did things the way she understood them, and to hell with anyone else. "I do things, systems. People don't work like that."
"Of course they do," Shinobi disagreed cheerfully. "After all, a human being is really nothing but a fantastically complicated, often deliberately contrary system. And I simply can't imagine entrusting the evening's entertainment to anyone else, now. Come, come, it will be much easier than you think! I'll provide you with my correspondence to date on our prospect bands, and you can pick the one that seems least likely to give you trouble. I'll even compromise and okay the recorded music--when the band is between sets or on break, or what-have-you."
He grinned, clearly not yet of a mind to be dissuaded. "As for explanations, you can always just tell them you're working on behalf of a wealthy eccentric, with bizarre and impossible demands. That one usually goes over quite readily--particularly when the checks clear. No, no, Donovan-san, I think you would be absolutely the perfect choice to see this thing off without a hitch. And, of course, if you need an enforcer, I'm sure I can arrange something. A burly, imposing sort to ensure your instructions are followed with a minimum of that needless human interaction we call 'discussion'."
"Clearly they should have called you Typhoon," Claudia grumbled, shaking her head. "Nobody listens to someone my age. It's like a rule, at least here in the states. As for rules, the whole exception that proves the rules basically means there aren't any. It's...what did they call it, a post-hoc fallacy? Something like that. Circular reasoning at best. Physics has rules, math has rules, even music has rules, but people? People exist to break rules."
And that was why she didn't do people. "You're asking me to pick up where you left off because you're out of depth because I just happen to sound like I know what I'm doing? There's got to be someone around here actually qualified for that. This place really is chock full of madcap."
"Quite so, quite so," he cackled humorously. "But you happen to be here, now, and I think I rather like you so far. And sounding as though you know what you're talking about is quite enough for most people."
He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Besides, I just happen to know a rule that trumps even the one you just mentioned: people will listen to whoever I tell them to listen to, or the flow of cash will cease. I think some people call it the Golden Rule, but I find that a little crude. I prefer to think of it as pragmatic adaptability."
"I think I would go with capital motivation, personally. If I had to call it anything. Or make a joke on the term specie as a form of money. But then, what would I know about that? Never had that kind of money thrown at me, and I definitely never had it to throw," she said with an eye-roll. "You really don't know the meaning of restraint, do you?"
Claudia waved the last off, because she didn't actually expect an answer there. She supposed if she had the money for strange and exorbitant gestures and people worth doing them for, she might feel the same. "What exactly is this soiree you're planning, and what's in it for me if I decide to aid you?"
Ah, this was the part he liked best--the haggling. Familiar and welcome territory, after trying to divine the functioning of that mass of wires and knobs and blinking things. "A few of us are planning an event in honor of a dear friend's birthday, which, as it unfortunately happens, falls between Christmas and New Year's. Therefore, we've been obliged to come up with something particularly spectacular to make the evening as memorable as possible. With the headmasters' indulgence, we'll be transforming a portion of the school into Roaring Twenties-inspired party hall. Very Great Gatsby. Period-themed attire, music, dancing, champagne fountains--we've spared no expense." By which he mostly meant Shaw Industries had spared no expense, but that was, at least to his mind, a very minor distinction.
"As for what's in it for you," he went on, near-black eyes glittering with obvious interest, "I suppose that hinges in part on what you want. I have a fondness for lavish presents, personally, and I've seen your interest in the technical side of music firsthand, but I can always just, as you say, throw money at you until you're satisfied."
"What about lessons?" Claudia asked, nodding shyly towards the shamisen. "I've always wanted to learn at least one non-western instrument, and the sitar is so common. Besides, my wish list as far as tech is like a mile long, and you probably don't want to get involved with hunting down East German manufactured vacuum tubes and such. Some things even a mutant talent can't improve on."
She didn't want a lavish anything, because she didn't take handouts. And she had a feeling that even a ten percent agent's cut on this deal would be more money than she'd ever seen. Claudia did have a good inkling how much chartering a jet to bring a band and equipment from the west coast would be, and then there were hotels and perks to make up for the eccentricities of the job.
"Why is it, for a place that's all about not having to hide, there are so many costume parties?"
"I cannot speak for everyone, of course," Shinobi replied, "but in my case, it comes from an insatiable passion for pageantry." He laughed again, but his look was considering. What an odd creature this one was. Most teenagers--particularly the younger ones--would have just asked for scads of money. Or possibly their very own pony. Claudia seemed a bit more ... businesslike about the whole thing. It was a surprising quality, but one he could appreciate.
"But I find myself torn," he went on, dark eyes flickering toward the instrument against the wall. "And almost wish you'd requested something a little more difficult to arrange. I suppose I could teach you, though my qualifications as a tutor are spotty, at best." In fact, he wasn't sure he had the patience, much less the expertise, to instruct anybody in anything--but it cost him nothing to try, he supposed. On the other hand, "I also usually don't play where others might hear me." In complete contradiction of his usual flamboyance, certainly, but even he needed a few private moments every once in a great while.
"In the end, though, I suppose a deal like that is simply too good to pass up. We can iron out the finer details whenever you like. I have people that can put things in writing, too, if you would be more comfortable with a contracted arrangement."
"Even if your miraculous people can come up with a way for you to pay someone two years shy of even putting in a work application without problems, I wouldn't know the first thing to do with the percentage an agent's cut would be. At least, if I'm even close to the right number of zeros in my estimate," Claudia said, smirking just a little. "As for playing in front of people, I think I would rather go on stage naked than with a guitar. Challenges, though, that's always worthwhile."
She didn't add that she'd feel guilty for taking any large amount of money, or at least a bit indebted. She didn't want to owe anyone anything, because it meant that she couldn't be hurt when they inevitably left. Because they always did, even if they said they wouldn't.
"Besides, I expect to keep any extra sound equipment and recordings we need to get to have this go off. I wonder if we could score some period air checks of actual radio transmissions. For verisimilitude, of course. Who says the set breaks can't include product placements?"
Shinobi shrugged, quite prepared to concede. "As I said, a bit of a bargain for me, but I wouldn't dream of asking you to compromise your ethics. Not when they work so very much in my favor." He smiled, but there remained something distinctly impish in it. "Make up a wish list. I'll see what I can do. After all, we capitalists are all about strategic product placement." Blame it on marketing, who, for every workable idea they had, typically had a dozen or so terrible ones.
He walked to the shamisen and picked it up carefully, then returned to Claudia, holding it out to her. "The first thing you should know, I suppose, is how to hold it properly. Normally, that's the easy part. Try not to complicate it by thinking about extraneous things like dollar values. I promise, it's insured." So abruptly it was a wonder one could not hear a screech of shifting gears coming from inside his skull, he went on, "So, is this fascinating expertise of yours a result of your gift, or do you come by it naturally?"
Like any other stringed instrument, she took it carefully by the base of the neck, the other hand going to cradle the body as she moved to sit. Heaven forbid she drop something like that. Reassurances aside, it was a delicate and amazingly well-made instrument of a kind she'd never gotten close to. And the change of subject didn't really bother her. She could flit from topic to topic following thoughts in ways most people got whiplash from
"Little bit of column A, little of column B. It's actually tricky to figure out where one leaves off. Near as we can figure, my gift lets me see how things best fit together, but I have to understand the rules of the system first," Claudia said, trying to find the words. It was impossible for her, because she couldn't even tell when she'd manifested, unlike some mutants. Most of the time, she just saw what was wrong, or at least not at its best and how to change that.
"Someone I knew used to joke that my second language was calculus. Or maybe physics. I actually wanted explanations for things like why is the sky blue when I was little. And wouldn't stop until I got them, even if it took days or weeks for a satisfactory answer."
"That sounds positively exhausting," said Shinobi with a smirk. "I've never suffered from that particular defect, personally." Not in any visible way; it was much safer to be incurious--and, better still, incurious and drunk--in the world he lived in. A question in the wrong ear could have dire consequences, even for one in his privileged position. And so he learned to make his inquiries quietly, subtly, and keep whatever knowledge he hoarded largely to himself. Until it became useful.
"Not as flashy as laser beam eyes or giant feathered wings," he went on, "but eminently more practical, I should think. One is, I imagine, asked to repair a radio or explain light wave refraction far more often than fly under one's own power. Or blast a sizable hole in a brick wall using only one's face." He passed her the subtly adorned and delicate bachi, letting her get a feel for the implement.
"I think it depends on the things one is asked to do," Claudia said, looking down. It was a total thing with people that they wanted things that would let them get ahead, or do whatever they wanted. "And people do complain when the radio gets a few extra stations, for example."
She took the strange object, a little uncertainly, not quite sure how the pair worked together. "I guess I try to go with things that won't attract too much interest. If people knew, they'd want, say, better weapons or something."
"Even one who deplores violence as much as I can see the usefulness of weapons," Shinobi said, using his dexterous fingers to adjust Claudia's grip on the bachi until it resembled something very near the proper form without a whiff of self-consciousness. "For example, when they act as a deterrent. The best weapons are the ones that never see a day's use, I think. Why, my family's fortunes are tied to some degree to the military industrial complex, so it would be rank hypocrisy for me to go about exhorting people to beat their swords into ploughshares, wouldn't it?"
He shifted her index finger slightly. "There. How does that feel? Not too awkward or uncomfortable, I trust?"
"Deterrents only work if you're willing to actually use them if pushed," Claudia pointed out. "And usually more than once. Not to mention testing. In order to make an omelette, you have to break some eggs, and all that."
She tried not to tense up as he adjusted her hands on the bachi and considered what she was doing with it. It was a stringed instrument, yes, but nowhere near as clearly demarcated for notes as a guitar would be. "Reminds me a bit of a zither or a steel guitar, like this."
"Oh, I quite agree," said Shinobi, moving now to position her fingers upon the slender neck of the shamisen, and the three strings which ran down its slightly tapered length. "I'm dainty enough to deplore violence in principle, but callous enough that, in practice, I rarely lose much sleep over it."
He nodded to himself, satisfied that, though she held the instrument like a beginner, at least she wasn't holding it like someone to whom it was completely alien. "I suppose there are similiarities," he agreed, then used Claudia's hand to slide the bachi along the strings, strumming as they went so she could get a feel for the kind and quality of sound the shamisen produced. It wasn't the most musical sequence of notes, certainly, but as an illustration it didn't quite fail utterly. "However, there are differences, as well."
"I just think when the eggs are named things like Fat Man and Little Boy, they really screw things up. Oppenheimer never forgave himself for that," Claudia said, trying not to think too hard about that. She wouldn't make advances in weaponry unless she could find a way to make sure they were never adapted to anything else.
As he produced the first few notes, her face wrinkled in concentration. "The intervals are...odd."
Shinobi shrugged. "Forgiveness is one of those things for people who lack forethought. Or the scope to recognize we all do awful things, sooner or later. It's part of the human experience." To him, as ever, guilt seemed like the greatest waste of time imaginable. "But Shaw Industries isn't exclusively, or even primarily, interested in weapons these days--not when the Starks have that market buttoned up so neatly. We've diversified from heavy manufacturing to technology and the fabrication of specialized systems and components. All sorts of interesting things of a far broader utility than simply taking lives as efficiently as possible."
But that was enough of that. "And that's as much sales pitch as I have in me, for the day; really, you'd think I was a headhunter, or something equally gauche. Now," he said, gently encouraging her with his own hands, "try moving the bachi closer to the neck, and your fingertips up and down the strings. Get a proper feel for its range. Limited, compared to some instruments, but exceedingly elegant in its own right."
"Limitations inspire ingenuity," Claudia said, chuckling a little. It was one of the reasons she liked having to improvise with less than ideal tools. She slid the elegant piece of ivory and inlaid work further along, feeling for a western scale, just to get a sense of things. Her position relative to the drum-like resonating chamber modified the notes in a new way, but Claudia thought, given time, she might be able to do something with it.
Another thing she probably would never find words for, but she knew, for example, when she had found the positioning for a perfect C, and not even a cycle too slow or fast off the 440 hertz it should be. "Definitely not like guitar."
"I'm so pleased you approve," Shinobi smirked, finally relinquishing her hands and stepping back to watch her tinker. "Once you feel a little more comfortable with it, we'll try a few little practice pieces. Perhaps take a stab at sheet music. How's your Japanese?"
"Pretty much nonexistent," Claudia said, laughing a little. "It's never really been important. I never got into anime or anything like that, and I can wait for video games to get translated. If I can even afford to play them."
"You know, we do have a whole culture outside of popular animation and electronic entertainment," he teased. That last point, he suspected would be addressed once she'd completed the little errand he'd asked of her; demure though she certainly would, Shinobi tended to be lavish with his favors where he anticipated some long-term benefit to be had--as he most certainly did here. "And you're about to get a crash course. The tablature notation for the shamisen is a bit different from that of most Western forms. But I'm sure you'll have the hang of it in no time."
"From this side of the Pacific, it's about all we get," Claudia pointed out. "I can read a few other languages well enough to get by, but I don't speak them. There wasn't any real reason for it, since I just needed them on the web. Sadly, Google Translate breaks down atrociously for non-Romance languages, and Romance languages are pretty easy, anyway."
She didn't mind the idea of picking up a new language. She'd thought about Chinese once or twice, but didn't want to get involved with those hackers. They were just a little too interested in breaching U.S. security and corporate espionage.
Shinobi sniffed disapprovingly. "That simply will not do; as I've said, in order to live a full and rewarding life, you should be able to flirt comfortably in at least three languages--like me! And I'm currently working on a fourth." It was one of the few practical skills he didn't tend to disdain, really. Social creature that he was, charm was his greatest asset, and that quality rarely survived a trip through the language barrier. "So we'll polish your conversational Japanese while we go. Or would you prefer French? It would be more difficult to mesh, but I think I could manage something. Since you've consented to assist me with my chore of the moment, it seems the least I can do."
"Ah, but the international language of science is English," Claudia pointed out. "And I am, sadly, a geek a heart. Don't you know that all it takes to flirt with a geek is a low-cut blouse?" In her mind, if someone didn't have a brain, they weren't worth wasting time with. She was perfectly fine on her own, thank you very much.
"Besides, there really aren't that many places here in the states where you can actually practice a foreign language, and struggling to say something in another language when you have a perfectly good one in common seems kinda backwards. So knowing what a word sounds like is just extra baggage. While I'm not as bad as the fictional Sherlock Holmes, cluttering up my mind palace with stuff I'll never have a chance to use? Not my thing."
"A pity," Shinobi reflected, though he'd already lost whatever minimal investment he'd had in his original argument. "An uncluttered mind seems like such a tragic waste, to me. Though I suppose it explains the generally technical thrust of your casual conversation." He dusted off his hands, dismissing the topic entirely. "Very well, mon petit chou, we'll table the language lessons for now, and stick to teaching you enough to make sense of the sheet music."
His grin was decidedly mischievous as he added, "And I'll certainly keep an eye out for plummeting décolletage. What a fascinating insight."
"Why do I get the feeling that I will be learning languages whether I like it or not if we continue this association?" Claudia mused aloud. She wasn't really that resistant to that, and would probably add a language or three with ease. She just needed a use for them. There were more multilingual students here than anywhere else she'd been. "So, Japanese and French? Why those two in particular?"
"Well, you've already heard my theory of language," he said merrily. "And since my biography includes exile first to Tokyo, then to Paris, I really had very little choice. What was I to do? Let all those pretty schoolboys and -girls go about uncorrupted while I languished in monolingual limbo? Unthinkable! There are literally scores of people scattered across three continents who would have been very much the poorer in the absence of my generous intervention."
"Some people couldn't care less about being your little cabbage," Claudia pointed out, grinning. She'd run into that one in a book a while back and looked it up. "I prefer a little honest brainpower to sweet nothings. But then, I spent my formative years in academia, not exile."
Although she kinda wondered about what Shinobi would say about his life. "Especially when one is in an environment where one is encouraged to flaunt ones abilities."
Shinob shrugged that first observation away; he'd never needed everyone to love him; a handful would do, when they were distracting enough. And lately ... lately, he'd required distraction less and less, so it hardly mattered. "Well," he teased, "I think you have done extremely well for yourself, despite the disadvantages of your youth." He could imagine few things less engaging personally, though obviously there were those who reveled in it. Took all kinds, he supposed.
"And I very much agree with you about the advantages of our current environment. I mean, I was always predisposed to flaunt, but here, with other beautiful young people who can really appreciate it, it's simply exquisite, neh?"
"So you make flamboyant and lavish gestures involving amounts of money most people can't comprehend spending," Claudia deadpanned. "Seems like the perfect life to me. And to think, before this, my goals were a finely appointed cave with high-speed internet access."
"Oh, it is," Shinobi lied easily. "Simply perfect." Then, a little more earnestly, "And I'm pleased to have broadened your horizons. Of course, money is only one of the things I flaunt--and, really, almost certainly the least interesting. I'm also frightfully immodest about my looks, my sublime fashion sense, and most recently my amazing mutation. Which, while not as practical as yours, Claudia-chan, has certainly proved its usefulness on more than one occasion."
The arched eyebrow was the only acknowledgement that Claudia was pretty sure most of that was some kind of mask, but far be it from her to throw stones. She could play carefree herself. "If I I didn't have the education, about all I'd be good for is jigsaw puzzles. Gotta know the rules of the game to know where the pieces fit," she joked. "Unless I've missed something, there are way cooler and flashier talents than my little quirk. Some people can even fly."
"Flash is all well and good when one wants to stand out," he nodded. "And, personally, in the middle of everything on top of a pedestal with the spotlights thoroughly trained on me is where I usually prefer to be. But personal bias aside, it's certainly useful to be able to go unnoticed. No one would question the natural advantage Pietro or Beaubier would have in a footrace, or mine as an escape artist. Your skill, however, is uniquely useful in that it would be exceedingly difficult for most to prove your skills derive from a genetic quirk rather than everyday genius. Never underestimate the value of camouflage!"
"The big problem is that it doesn't matter how I do it, it's what others want me to do with it," Claudia said, sighing just a little. "Even before I knew for sure I was a mutant, I was always a freak. That hasn't changed, I just happen to be in the company of much cooler freaks now."
That provoked a sniff from Shinobi. "What others want is irrelevant, especially when it comes to the really important things. Now that you're only one freak amongst many, why shouldn't you pick out the star you like best from the many you might follow, and start off in that direction? Things like apologies and self-consciousness are for a far more mundane and tedious sort of people."
Claudia put up the shamisen at that, because this wasn't fun right now. "The star I wanted to follow was reduced to subatomic particles seven years ago," she said, and stood. "I'll look into that stuff for the band when you send it over, get you the right stuff. I just...need to be alone."
It spoke, perhaps, to the time he'd spent at the Institute that Shinobi didn't take that obvious dismissal as an invitation to be even more provocative. It was certainly true that was how he would have responded to those words, once upon a time. But ... time had a way of altering one's perspective, he supposed. And at the moment, he had no particular desire to trouble Claudia any more than he had, however inadvertently.
Or perhaps it was just an acknowledgement of her potential usefulness, and the fact that genius occasionally needed to be indulged. Who could say?
"Hai hai. I'll forward what I have to your school email. If you will excuse me?" Leaving the shamisen where it was, for the moment--and how odd, that he was satisfied it would be safe until he returned for it!--Shinobi bowed, and began to sink through the floor until he disappeared from sight.
The music room was typically deserted at this hour of the day, a fact with which Shinobi was well-acquainted thanks to the generally surreptitious nature of his musical endeavors. And indeed, his shamisen lay with its slender neck balanced against the wall, the base resting on its luxurious wrappings of silk and padded quilts; for now, practice--if practice one could call it, since the exercise was as much about his own personal pleasure as maintaining his skill with the instrument--was concluded. Now, the incorrigible Shaw heir was carefully examining the equipment which allowed performers in the classroom to broadcast their performances across the school's public address system.
So far ... he hadn't made much headway. Shinobi was far from the Luddite Tony Stark had named him, but he certainly didn't have the same head for technology that the younger teen did. Typically, when he needed some sort of esoteric gadget, he would contact the very capable men and women in the employ of Shaw Industries expansive R&D department. This, however, seemed like a frivolous use of such resources, even to him. Besides, it had become something of a point of pride. Genius he may not have been, but he was certain he could figure out this mass of buttons and slides and switches, if he only put his mind to it. Fortunately, he had Felix's upcoming birthday to motivate him. He would not fail!
Provided he didn't lose interest and wander off. And possibly later cajole Tony or Kitty into figuring the damnable thing out for him. These were also distinct possibilities.
Claudia was in her own musical happy place, thinking through just exactly how she wanted to set up the amp for a song for class. The nice thing about having classes in music meant she got to play with other instruments now and then, which gave her plenty of ideas. In the beginning, guitar had been another hobby like chess, but when she'd learned to integrate it into computing, things had kinda snowballed. Freedom to explore was already spoiling her, and coming to the room out-of-hours gave her place she wasn't going to be in anyone's way.
Except it was already occupied. Well, people weren't exactly rude about sharing space here, if past experience was anything to go by. Well, normally. A few things were kinda off-limits, but she had plenty of ways to challenge herself. She let herself in, allowing the door to close with a slight noise behind her, and then something caught her eye. An instrument she hadn't seen before.
"Well, hello, gorgeous," she said, grinning as she moved in for a closer look, not touching the obviously expensive creation of art. The guy screwing up the wiring on the PA could wait a moment while she was kvelling.
At first, Shinobi quite naturally assumed that the greeting was meant for him, even if the voice conveying it was completely unfamiliar. When he saw the girl ogling his shamisen, however, he smiled ruefully. True, he wasn't as disappointed by the lack of attention now as he would have been a few months ago, but still. It wasn't often that people found him less engaging than an inanimate object, no matter how well-crafted. Perhaps he was beginning to lose his touch, now he was declawed.
Ah, well, c'est la vie. He was too preoccupied to mope, just then. "You have exquisite taste," he remarked, though he soon returned to his previous, hopeless tinkering. "It's one-of-a-kind. Arguably the finest completely functional work of art I own. I don't suppose you play?" That would be a surprise--and interesting, too! Far more so than a Japanese boy playing a Japanese instrument. That was about as noteworthy as a croissant in Paris.
Claudia couldn't help a slight chuckle as she shook her head. "In theory, I could maybe pick it up and noodle around, but I'm a six-string sort of gal," she admitted. "Well, not one like that, especially. I'd be terrified of breathing wrong on something that valuable. I can't even afford my own amp, at least not one I'd actually want."
She didn't mind that so much, especially since she didn't play in public, well, ever. Taking lessons was pretty far out of the box for her. "But I don't think that's what you were up to. If you keep tangling like that, you'll ruin the tone and the sixty-cycle hum will be excruciating to anyone with ears."
Well, it was a pity about her lack of familiarity with the instrument, even if it wasn't a tremendous shock. And while it was true he harbored certain reservations about allowing a perfect stranger to "noodle around" with something that cost more than some people's mortgage payments for the year (his shamisen being a rare exception to his usual disregard for price tags and love of absurdity), Shinobi was confident he could dig something up for her with less sentimental value.
Sentiment. Ha! Clearly, he'd been at Xavier's too long, if he'd started developing those.
However, her subsequent observation had him looking up from his inexpert work, brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Sou desu ka," he replied slowly, looking from the girl to the mass of electronics coming apart beneath his fingers and back again. Shaking his head, he went on, "I beg your pardon, but, though I recognize the meanings of the majority of those words individually, when you string them together in that particular configuration they become perfectly incomprehensible. Are you suggesting I've broken it?"
"More misaligned," Claudia said, coming in to start recoiling the wires so they wouldn't create that godawful humming. "The wires can't just tangle like that, it makes signal noise on the line. The kinds of things that distract from pure tones. What were you trying to do, anyway?"
The actions were automatic, making sure things didn't get kinked, because that would be bad for everyone. "Each cord has a direction and a minimum diameter you can use to wrap it before it screws up with the conduction properties. It's one of the reasons most people have switched to wireless wherever you can get away with it. Sure, you lose depth of sound, but it doesn't require as much work to keep things in order. You create a single kink in a fifty foot microphone cord, and the whole thing has to be thrown out. It's not like hooking up a stereo."
"I've never done that before, either. Not personally," he noted absently, a bit absorbed with watching her work. "Your explanation is completely lost on me, but I am nevertheless grateful for the timely intervention." Even if he were still at least partly convinced he could have puzzled it out, in time. Despite not knowing a thing about signal noise or conduction properties. Or being really certain he wanted to, for that matter; that level of technical expertise was probably better suited to salaried technicians and engineers, not the spoiled offspring of wealth and excess.
"As for what I'm trying to do," he went on, "it was mostly just trying to get the thing to work. Or work the way I want it to. I'm thinking of hiring a band for a little soiree a few of us are planning, and I need someplace to put them. This seemed like the ideal compromise between pragmatism and extravagance."
"You're going to put a live band out here?" Claudia said, surprised. "Doesn't that sorta defeat the purpose?"
But she shrugged, looking over the plugs and cables and mentally sorting through them . "It's not that hard, as long as you go by the labels. Well, and it does sorta depend on which instruments and the kind of pickup you're using. Like if you using a bridge mike on a violin, you get a different timbre than putting it in the more traditional spot on the chin-rest, but any flaws in bowing will be totally obvious."
So she really liked sound, and the physics of it, as well as what it felt like in a much more visceral way. "There's dozens of variables, but most of them you don't need to mess with unless you go outside the optimal range for the current setting. And of course as soon as you start transmitting sound, you have to chop whole sections of the waves off. Like Dolby recording. Preserve a portion of the bass notes that are too slow for fidelity, reflect and translate them into the high end, and restore them at the output. Always screws with your subs."
"That depends on how you define the purpose, really," said Shinobi, choosing to fix upon the part of her reply that he had completely understood, and sort the rest out afterward. "In this case, it's more a demonstration of my willingness to spend too much money to make this event as over-the-top as possible than a real interest in providing the best possible musical experience. Though of course, that would be a welcome fringe benefit. And in the former category, I'm sure you can't deny I'll be a smashing success."
His expression then grew mystified, as further rumination failed to shed any new light on the the stream of audio jargon that had issued forth from this strange, tiny creature. "You are certainly shockingly knowledgeable in these matters," he managed, finally. "Evidence, I suspect, of a youth tragically misspent. However, I prefer to be formally introduced to anyone that attempts to educate me, despite my obvious impermeability to knowledge." The half-Japanese mutant nodded, a clipped and informal version of the usual introductory bow. "Shinobi Shaw. I'm not altogether certain how to define the sensation exactly, so I'll default to it being a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Claudia grinned and returned the bow as best she could, figuring that was more polite than, well, handshaking. "Claudia Donovan, aspiring tech guru. And if you consider spending my formative years learning advanced physics because I kept asking 'Why?' misspent, I'll have to disagree. Not sure how good I'd be at teaching, though. I tend to ramble. And good sound-management is as much by eye as ear, believe it or not."
She couldn't help being interested, even though to her, a live band in a box was no better than a good recording. "What kind of music were you thinking of having?"
"I'm afraid I consider any moment of one's youth spent in the pursuit of anything practical or constructive misspent," he returned, grinning. "But we can simply agree to disagree. I've never really had the courage of my convictions--certainly not sufficiently to argue them to any great extent."
He was quick to drop the topic altogether, when presented an opportunity to talk about the party--though, technically, it was still supposed to be a surprise. Spreading his arms to encompass the room, and perhaps the school in general, Shinobi said, "I'm thinking of hiring an orchestra. Not a symphony orchestra, mind you, but a proper Big Band sort of group. I'm looking at a few promising west coast acts--no sense in shopping around locally, when we've all invested so much in keeping this place secret."
"I still don't get how anyone thinks hiding the fact that there's a posh boarding school here is even feasible, but whatevs," Claudia said, waving the comment off. "Hm, that's going to take some setup. You'd want sound baffles and someone mixing the board to keep everything at the best levels. No sense not having good balance when you're already planning to perform via transmission.
"I suspect a small ensemble would be doable, no more than, say, twenty? Harder if you want voice, but that's your sound guy's job. If you're going through the trouble of importing a top-notch band, I doubt that's an issue. Have the band leader give you the names of people they enjoy working with, since those are the guys that match the sound the group wants. At least, that's how I understand it from a complete layman's viewpoint. I've never been in a band or anything like that. I just like playing with sound sometimes."
Resting his elbows on the nearest available flat surface and his chin in his hands, Shinobi studied Claudia carefully. He was still only comprehending about one word in three, but that hardly mattered. Because now, he had an Idea. "Mm-hmm, it shows," he nodded, completely in agreement. "Which is what makes you absolutely the most qualified candidate to take charge of this little side-project of mine. What do you say? You obviously have a passion for this sort of thing that I couldn't hope to fake convincingly, and I promise you will be handsomely compensated for your efforts."
Screw doing it himself. The obscenely wealthy didn't need personal expertise. What they really needed was access to the people who did. It was called delegation, and it was a defining virtue of every successful businessman. Happenstance or not, it appeared he had the makings of the perfect win-win scenario before him, and that sort of thing always tended to brighten his day.
"Oh, no, you don't want me," Claudia said, backpedaling verbally and waving her hands in a stop now, sort of way. "I speak geek, not musician, really. And just because I know what the signals look like, that does not mean I'm qualified to run things like that. If you gave me control, I'd say screw the band because you won't know the difference between that and good vinyl anyway. Well, with the right turntable and stuff. And machines don't need breaks and food and stuff. Not to mention some crazy story as to why they're not on a stage in the room with the rest of the party."
She didn't want that kind of responsibility. When she'd relied on people, they let her down, and she was not going to do the same. She just saw things and did things the way she understood them, and to hell with anyone else. "I do things, systems. People don't work like that."
"Of course they do," Shinobi disagreed cheerfully. "After all, a human being is really nothing but a fantastically complicated, often deliberately contrary system. And I simply can't imagine entrusting the evening's entertainment to anyone else, now. Come, come, it will be much easier than you think! I'll provide you with my correspondence to date on our prospect bands, and you can pick the one that seems least likely to give you trouble. I'll even compromise and okay the recorded music--when the band is between sets or on break, or what-have-you."
He grinned, clearly not yet of a mind to be dissuaded. "As for explanations, you can always just tell them you're working on behalf of a wealthy eccentric, with bizarre and impossible demands. That one usually goes over quite readily--particularly when the checks clear. No, no, Donovan-san, I think you would be absolutely the perfect choice to see this thing off without a hitch. And, of course, if you need an enforcer, I'm sure I can arrange something. A burly, imposing sort to ensure your instructions are followed with a minimum of that needless human interaction we call 'discussion'."
"Clearly they should have called you Typhoon," Claudia grumbled, shaking her head. "Nobody listens to someone my age. It's like a rule, at least here in the states. As for rules, the whole exception that proves the rules basically means there aren't any. It's...what did they call it, a post-hoc fallacy? Something like that. Circular reasoning at best. Physics has rules, math has rules, even music has rules, but people? People exist to break rules."
And that was why she didn't do people. "You're asking me to pick up where you left off because you're out of depth because I just happen to sound like I know what I'm doing? There's got to be someone around here actually qualified for that. This place really is chock full of madcap."
"Quite so, quite so," he cackled humorously. "But you happen to be here, now, and I think I rather like you so far. And sounding as though you know what you're talking about is quite enough for most people."
He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Besides, I just happen to know a rule that trumps even the one you just mentioned: people will listen to whoever I tell them to listen to, or the flow of cash will cease. I think some people call it the Golden Rule, but I find that a little crude. I prefer to think of it as pragmatic adaptability."
"I think I would go with capital motivation, personally. If I had to call it anything. Or make a joke on the term specie as a form of money. But then, what would I know about that? Never had that kind of money thrown at me, and I definitely never had it to throw," she said with an eye-roll. "You really don't know the meaning of restraint, do you?"
Claudia waved the last off, because she didn't actually expect an answer there. She supposed if she had the money for strange and exorbitant gestures and people worth doing them for, she might feel the same. "What exactly is this soiree you're planning, and what's in it for me if I decide to aid you?"
Ah, this was the part he liked best--the haggling. Familiar and welcome territory, after trying to divine the functioning of that mass of wires and knobs and blinking things. "A few of us are planning an event in honor of a dear friend's birthday, which, as it unfortunately happens, falls between Christmas and New Year's. Therefore, we've been obliged to come up with something particularly spectacular to make the evening as memorable as possible. With the headmasters' indulgence, we'll be transforming a portion of the school into Roaring Twenties-inspired party hall. Very Great Gatsby. Period-themed attire, music, dancing, champagne fountains--we've spared no expense." By which he mostly meant Shaw Industries had spared no expense, but that was, at least to his mind, a very minor distinction.
"As for what's in it for you," he went on, near-black eyes glittering with obvious interest, "I suppose that hinges in part on what you want. I have a fondness for lavish presents, personally, and I've seen your interest in the technical side of music firsthand, but I can always just, as you say, throw money at you until you're satisfied."
"What about lessons?" Claudia asked, nodding shyly towards the shamisen. "I've always wanted to learn at least one non-western instrument, and the sitar is so common. Besides, my wish list as far as tech is like a mile long, and you probably don't want to get involved with hunting down East German manufactured vacuum tubes and such. Some things even a mutant talent can't improve on."
She didn't want a lavish anything, because she didn't take handouts. And she had a feeling that even a ten percent agent's cut on this deal would be more money than she'd ever seen. Claudia did have a good inkling how much chartering a jet to bring a band and equipment from the west coast would be, and then there were hotels and perks to make up for the eccentricities of the job.
"Why is it, for a place that's all about not having to hide, there are so many costume parties?"
"I cannot speak for everyone, of course," Shinobi replied, "but in my case, it comes from an insatiable passion for pageantry." He laughed again, but his look was considering. What an odd creature this one was. Most teenagers--particularly the younger ones--would have just asked for scads of money. Or possibly their very own pony. Claudia seemed a bit more ... businesslike about the whole thing. It was a surprising quality, but one he could appreciate.
"But I find myself torn," he went on, dark eyes flickering toward the instrument against the wall. "And almost wish you'd requested something a little more difficult to arrange. I suppose I could teach you, though my qualifications as a tutor are spotty, at best." In fact, he wasn't sure he had the patience, much less the expertise, to instruct anybody in anything--but it cost him nothing to try, he supposed. On the other hand, "I also usually don't play where others might hear me." In complete contradiction of his usual flamboyance, certainly, but even he needed a few private moments every once in a great while.
"In the end, though, I suppose a deal like that is simply too good to pass up. We can iron out the finer details whenever you like. I have people that can put things in writing, too, if you would be more comfortable with a contracted arrangement."
"Even if your miraculous people can come up with a way for you to pay someone two years shy of even putting in a work application without problems, I wouldn't know the first thing to do with the percentage an agent's cut would be. At least, if I'm even close to the right number of zeros in my estimate," Claudia said, smirking just a little. "As for playing in front of people, I think I would rather go on stage naked than with a guitar. Challenges, though, that's always worthwhile."
She didn't add that she'd feel guilty for taking any large amount of money, or at least a bit indebted. She didn't want to owe anyone anything, because it meant that she couldn't be hurt when they inevitably left. Because they always did, even if they said they wouldn't.
"Besides, I expect to keep any extra sound equipment and recordings we need to get to have this go off. I wonder if we could score some period air checks of actual radio transmissions. For verisimilitude, of course. Who says the set breaks can't include product placements?"
Shinobi shrugged, quite prepared to concede. "As I said, a bit of a bargain for me, but I wouldn't dream of asking you to compromise your ethics. Not when they work so very much in my favor." He smiled, but there remained something distinctly impish in it. "Make up a wish list. I'll see what I can do. After all, we capitalists are all about strategic product placement." Blame it on marketing, who, for every workable idea they had, typically had a dozen or so terrible ones.
He walked to the shamisen and picked it up carefully, then returned to Claudia, holding it out to her. "The first thing you should know, I suppose, is how to hold it properly. Normally, that's the easy part. Try not to complicate it by thinking about extraneous things like dollar values. I promise, it's insured." So abruptly it was a wonder one could not hear a screech of shifting gears coming from inside his skull, he went on, "So, is this fascinating expertise of yours a result of your gift, or do you come by it naturally?"
Like any other stringed instrument, she took it carefully by the base of the neck, the other hand going to cradle the body as she moved to sit. Heaven forbid she drop something like that. Reassurances aside, it was a delicate and amazingly well-made instrument of a kind she'd never gotten close to. And the change of subject didn't really bother her. She could flit from topic to topic following thoughts in ways most people got whiplash from
"Little bit of column A, little of column B. It's actually tricky to figure out where one leaves off. Near as we can figure, my gift lets me see how things best fit together, but I have to understand the rules of the system first," Claudia said, trying to find the words. It was impossible for her, because she couldn't even tell when she'd manifested, unlike some mutants. Most of the time, she just saw what was wrong, or at least not at its best and how to change that.
"Someone I knew used to joke that my second language was calculus. Or maybe physics. I actually wanted explanations for things like why is the sky blue when I was little. And wouldn't stop until I got them, even if it took days or weeks for a satisfactory answer."
"That sounds positively exhausting," said Shinobi with a smirk. "I've never suffered from that particular defect, personally." Not in any visible way; it was much safer to be incurious--and, better still, incurious and drunk--in the world he lived in. A question in the wrong ear could have dire consequences, even for one in his privileged position. And so he learned to make his inquiries quietly, subtly, and keep whatever knowledge he hoarded largely to himself. Until it became useful.
"Not as flashy as laser beam eyes or giant feathered wings," he went on, "but eminently more practical, I should think. One is, I imagine, asked to repair a radio or explain light wave refraction far more often than fly under one's own power. Or blast a sizable hole in a brick wall using only one's face." He passed her the subtly adorned and delicate bachi, letting her get a feel for the implement.
"I think it depends on the things one is asked to do," Claudia said, looking down. It was a total thing with people that they wanted things that would let them get ahead, or do whatever they wanted. "And people do complain when the radio gets a few extra stations, for example."
She took the strange object, a little uncertainly, not quite sure how the pair worked together. "I guess I try to go with things that won't attract too much interest. If people knew, they'd want, say, better weapons or something."
"Even one who deplores violence as much as I can see the usefulness of weapons," Shinobi said, using his dexterous fingers to adjust Claudia's grip on the bachi until it resembled something very near the proper form without a whiff of self-consciousness. "For example, when they act as a deterrent. The best weapons are the ones that never see a day's use, I think. Why, my family's fortunes are tied to some degree to the military industrial complex, so it would be rank hypocrisy for me to go about exhorting people to beat their swords into ploughshares, wouldn't it?"
He shifted her index finger slightly. "There. How does that feel? Not too awkward or uncomfortable, I trust?"
"Deterrents only work if you're willing to actually use them if pushed," Claudia pointed out. "And usually more than once. Not to mention testing. In order to make an omelette, you have to break some eggs, and all that."
She tried not to tense up as he adjusted her hands on the bachi and considered what she was doing with it. It was a stringed instrument, yes, but nowhere near as clearly demarcated for notes as a guitar would be. "Reminds me a bit of a zither or a steel guitar, like this."
"Oh, I quite agree," said Shinobi, moving now to position her fingers upon the slender neck of the shamisen, and the three strings which ran down its slightly tapered length. "I'm dainty enough to deplore violence in principle, but callous enough that, in practice, I rarely lose much sleep over it."
He nodded to himself, satisfied that, though she held the instrument like a beginner, at least she wasn't holding it like someone to whom it was completely alien. "I suppose there are similiarities," he agreed, then used Claudia's hand to slide the bachi along the strings, strumming as they went so she could get a feel for the kind and quality of sound the shamisen produced. It wasn't the most musical sequence of notes, certainly, but as an illustration it didn't quite fail utterly. "However, there are differences, as well."
"I just think when the eggs are named things like Fat Man and Little Boy, they really screw things up. Oppenheimer never forgave himself for that," Claudia said, trying not to think too hard about that. She wouldn't make advances in weaponry unless she could find a way to make sure they were never adapted to anything else.
As he produced the first few notes, her face wrinkled in concentration. "The intervals are...odd."
Shinobi shrugged. "Forgiveness is one of those things for people who lack forethought. Or the scope to recognize we all do awful things, sooner or later. It's part of the human experience." To him, as ever, guilt seemed like the greatest waste of time imaginable. "But Shaw Industries isn't exclusively, or even primarily, interested in weapons these days--not when the Starks have that market buttoned up so neatly. We've diversified from heavy manufacturing to technology and the fabrication of specialized systems and components. All sorts of interesting things of a far broader utility than simply taking lives as efficiently as possible."
But that was enough of that. "And that's as much sales pitch as I have in me, for the day; really, you'd think I was a headhunter, or something equally gauche. Now," he said, gently encouraging her with his own hands, "try moving the bachi closer to the neck, and your fingertips up and down the strings. Get a proper feel for its range. Limited, compared to some instruments, but exceedingly elegant in its own right."
"Limitations inspire ingenuity," Claudia said, chuckling a little. It was one of the reasons she liked having to improvise with less than ideal tools. She slid the elegant piece of ivory and inlaid work further along, feeling for a western scale, just to get a sense of things. Her position relative to the drum-like resonating chamber modified the notes in a new way, but Claudia thought, given time, she might be able to do something with it.
Another thing she probably would never find words for, but she knew, for example, when she had found the positioning for a perfect C, and not even a cycle too slow or fast off the 440 hertz it should be. "Definitely not like guitar."
"I'm so pleased you approve," Shinobi smirked, finally relinquishing her hands and stepping back to watch her tinker. "Once you feel a little more comfortable with it, we'll try a few little practice pieces. Perhaps take a stab at sheet music. How's your Japanese?"
"Pretty much nonexistent," Claudia said, laughing a little. "It's never really been important. I never got into anime or anything like that, and I can wait for video games to get translated. If I can even afford to play them."
"You know, we do have a whole culture outside of popular animation and electronic entertainment," he teased. That last point, he suspected would be addressed once she'd completed the little errand he'd asked of her; demure though she certainly would, Shinobi tended to be lavish with his favors where he anticipated some long-term benefit to be had--as he most certainly did here. "And you're about to get a crash course. The tablature notation for the shamisen is a bit different from that of most Western forms. But I'm sure you'll have the hang of it in no time."
"From this side of the Pacific, it's about all we get," Claudia pointed out. "I can read a few other languages well enough to get by, but I don't speak them. There wasn't any real reason for it, since I just needed them on the web. Sadly, Google Translate breaks down atrociously for non-Romance languages, and Romance languages are pretty easy, anyway."
She didn't mind the idea of picking up a new language. She'd thought about Chinese once or twice, but didn't want to get involved with those hackers. They were just a little too interested in breaching U.S. security and corporate espionage.
Shinobi sniffed disapprovingly. "That simply will not do; as I've said, in order to live a full and rewarding life, you should be able to flirt comfortably in at least three languages--like me! And I'm currently working on a fourth." It was one of the few practical skills he didn't tend to disdain, really. Social creature that he was, charm was his greatest asset, and that quality rarely survived a trip through the language barrier. "So we'll polish your conversational Japanese while we go. Or would you prefer French? It would be more difficult to mesh, but I think I could manage something. Since you've consented to assist me with my chore of the moment, it seems the least I can do."
"Ah, but the international language of science is English," Claudia pointed out. "And I am, sadly, a geek a heart. Don't you know that all it takes to flirt with a geek is a low-cut blouse?" In her mind, if someone didn't have a brain, they weren't worth wasting time with. She was perfectly fine on her own, thank you very much.
"Besides, there really aren't that many places here in the states where you can actually practice a foreign language, and struggling to say something in another language when you have a perfectly good one in common seems kinda backwards. So knowing what a word sounds like is just extra baggage. While I'm not as bad as the fictional Sherlock Holmes, cluttering up my mind palace with stuff I'll never have a chance to use? Not my thing."
"A pity," Shinobi reflected, though he'd already lost whatever minimal investment he'd had in his original argument. "An uncluttered mind seems like such a tragic waste, to me. Though I suppose it explains the generally technical thrust of your casual conversation." He dusted off his hands, dismissing the topic entirely. "Very well, mon petit chou, we'll table the language lessons for now, and stick to teaching you enough to make sense of the sheet music."
His grin was decidedly mischievous as he added, "And I'll certainly keep an eye out for plummeting décolletage. What a fascinating insight."
"Why do I get the feeling that I will be learning languages whether I like it or not if we continue this association?" Claudia mused aloud. She wasn't really that resistant to that, and would probably add a language or three with ease. She just needed a use for them. There were more multilingual students here than anywhere else she'd been. "So, Japanese and French? Why those two in particular?"
"Well, you've already heard my theory of language," he said merrily. "And since my biography includes exile first to Tokyo, then to Paris, I really had very little choice. What was I to do? Let all those pretty schoolboys and -girls go about uncorrupted while I languished in monolingual limbo? Unthinkable! There are literally scores of people scattered across three continents who would have been very much the poorer in the absence of my generous intervention."
"Some people couldn't care less about being your little cabbage," Claudia pointed out, grinning. She'd run into that one in a book a while back and looked it up. "I prefer a little honest brainpower to sweet nothings. But then, I spent my formative years in academia, not exile."
Although she kinda wondered about what Shinobi would say about his life. "Especially when one is in an environment where one is encouraged to flaunt ones abilities."
Shinob shrugged that first observation away; he'd never needed everyone to love him; a handful would do, when they were distracting enough. And lately ... lately, he'd required distraction less and less, so it hardly mattered. "Well," he teased, "I think you have done extremely well for yourself, despite the disadvantages of your youth." He could imagine few things less engaging personally, though obviously there were those who reveled in it. Took all kinds, he supposed.
"And I very much agree with you about the advantages of our current environment. I mean, I was always predisposed to flaunt, but here, with other beautiful young people who can really appreciate it, it's simply exquisite, neh?"
"So you make flamboyant and lavish gestures involving amounts of money most people can't comprehend spending," Claudia deadpanned. "Seems like the perfect life to me. And to think, before this, my goals were a finely appointed cave with high-speed internet access."
"Oh, it is," Shinobi lied easily. "Simply perfect." Then, a little more earnestly, "And I'm pleased to have broadened your horizons. Of course, money is only one of the things I flaunt--and, really, almost certainly the least interesting. I'm also frightfully immodest about my looks, my sublime fashion sense, and most recently my amazing mutation. Which, while not as practical as yours, Claudia-chan, has certainly proved its usefulness on more than one occasion."
The arched eyebrow was the only acknowledgement that Claudia was pretty sure most of that was some kind of mask, but far be it from her to throw stones. She could play carefree herself. "If I I didn't have the education, about all I'd be good for is jigsaw puzzles. Gotta know the rules of the game to know where the pieces fit," she joked. "Unless I've missed something, there are way cooler and flashier talents than my little quirk. Some people can even fly."
"Flash is all well and good when one wants to stand out," he nodded. "And, personally, in the middle of everything on top of a pedestal with the spotlights thoroughly trained on me is where I usually prefer to be. But personal bias aside, it's certainly useful to be able to go unnoticed. No one would question the natural advantage Pietro or Beaubier would have in a footrace, or mine as an escape artist. Your skill, however, is uniquely useful in that it would be exceedingly difficult for most to prove your skills derive from a genetic quirk rather than everyday genius. Never underestimate the value of camouflage!"
"The big problem is that it doesn't matter how I do it, it's what others want me to do with it," Claudia said, sighing just a little. "Even before I knew for sure I was a mutant, I was always a freak. That hasn't changed, I just happen to be in the company of much cooler freaks now."
That provoked a sniff from Shinobi. "What others want is irrelevant, especially when it comes to the really important things. Now that you're only one freak amongst many, why shouldn't you pick out the star you like best from the many you might follow, and start off in that direction? Things like apologies and self-consciousness are for a far more mundane and tedious sort of people."
Claudia put up the shamisen at that, because this wasn't fun right now. "The star I wanted to follow was reduced to subatomic particles seven years ago," she said, and stood. "I'll look into that stuff for the band when you send it over, get you the right stuff. I just...need to be alone."
It spoke, perhaps, to the time he'd spent at the Institute that Shinobi didn't take that obvious dismissal as an invitation to be even more provocative. It was certainly true that was how he would have responded to those words, once upon a time. But ... time had a way of altering one's perspective, he supposed. And at the moment, he had no particular desire to trouble Claudia any more than he had, however inadvertently.
Or perhaps it was just an acknowledgement of her potential usefulness, and the fact that genius occasionally needed to be indulged. Who could say?
"Hai hai. I'll forward what I have to your school email. If you will excuse me?" Leaving the shamisen where it was, for the moment--and how odd, that he was satisfied it would be safe until he returned for it!--Shinobi bowed, and began to sink through the floor until he disappeared from sight.
