Books are wonderful. And fragile, oh so fragile. Paper rips. Ink fades. Wood breaks.

If time by itself is enough to ravage books, the process is greatly expedited with each manipulation. Even the most careful of readers slightly damages the physical support of what they read.

There is a probably a lesson to be learned from the fact a good, or at least popular, book can fade away sometimes as shortly as a few days from constant demand, while a bad, or at least unpopular, book can remain unscathed for years.

But on the practical side of things, that meant that, in a public library like this one, whose very purpose is for books to be read as much as possible and not simply stored, there was always some books requiring to be mended, reinforced or even so far gone the only solution was to produce a new copy of it.

Ayumu was using a bit of time to assist the librarians with that task today. Dressed without ostentation, sat in a quiet corner, he was meticulously fixing small gaps along the edges of some scrolls, with a small brush, thin sheet of paper and a pot of specialized glue.

After a time, another figure was found in the library, checking the shelves with a glance, seeking what might be missing or misplaced. His path eventually lead him to where Ayumu was working, and he paused, turning over the names in his mind, casting about to see if this man was one he knew. There had been so many people in the palace lately, it had become slightly overwhelming.

It was hard not to notice Masanori, though he was hardly the only Ongaku, half-ogres were still not omnipresent among their number, meaning that they did still tend to stick out in a crowd.

Once he had mulled over his options, he simply approached, offering a small bow of greeting to the Jiyo, glancing at his work. "I'm not sure we have been introduced, yet you clearly know your way about your task. Might I inquire with whom I speak?" A slight frown - perhaps he didn't approve, or perhaps he was internally wincing at his unintentional formality - the awkwardness of introduction causing stiffness in his speech.

Ayumu bowed with his head, calmly finished fixing the scroll he was working on, then put it and its tools aside carefully, before finally standing up and bowing properly.

"Ayumu, of the Jiyo, born of the Isawa. Nice to meet you.

Thanks for the compliment. The librarians have judged that my skills in the art of book preservation were good enough to treat some minor damages on lesser important scrolls. I am however nowhere near the level of a true professional. Just a few knacks I had to learn at a time where the Imperial servants were less numerous and everyone had to do a bit of everything.

And indeed, the time when all direct servants of Shiba knew each other is way past us. May I inquire for your name in return?"

"Ongaku Masanori, historian and courier. I'm gratified to meet you."

It sounded like he meant it, his expression didn't betray much, but he had heard of Ayumu. Knew he had gone on the journey south. He'd transcribed that history himself, on more than one occasion.

"I wouldn't have thought one of your history would have time for such tasks, but I'm sure we are all honored that you deem them worthy of your time and attention."

A half-smile showed up on Ayumu's lips. He was used to such interrogative comments, especially as his distinctive scraggy frame made him easily recognizable:

"I remember a tale about a young hero who, after killing some nasty monster, had to rush home to help with the harvest. It was mostly humorous in nature, but the moral is still there: No matter how impressive your actions, there will still be ordinary tasks requiring your attention. And it's likely that our hero, unless he lives in a monster-riddled land, is doing far more farmwork than monster killing through the course of one year, as the fields do not tend themselves.

Anyway in such a tale, I would be more of the guy that pulls the cart taking the hero home than the hero himself. So I wouldn't have picked a career in the monster killing business in all cases."

"Ah."

Masanori nodded. "And in the tale I would be the man who sees the hero and tells his friends what he saw."

There was a note of... something... in his voice, but whatever it was, it vanished too quickly to be sure.

"So we bring in our own harvest, of sorts. Ryoko-sama told me of you. I believe you are, in no small part, responsible for my tribe coming to join in this effort."

"Seeing the hero... Did you get to meet Shiba in person? A few years ago, he would still have had time to talk with everyone, but with the Empire growing up so fast, his schedule is constantly packed to the brim. Balancing the demands of nine clans, the requests of foreign diplomats, and the needs of the people of the Empire keep him quite busy even with us here to take some of that burden upon ourselves."

He shrugged aside the last remark:

"I played a role yes. So did Sora, a few others, and of course Ryoko herself. But ultimately the destiny of the Ongaku lies in the hands of the Ongaku themselves. I believe you were all asked if you wished to join or would rather fill the ranks of another Kami?

Though, of course, freedom of choice is a complicated, philosophical question, especially when the alternative was uncertainty in quickly changing times. We tried our best to achieve a satisfying compromise, but no best will ever be perfect."

"Oh, we did choose, but just as a pebble setting an avalanche in motion does not ultimately account for every stone which rumbles down the mountain, it still was instrumental in beginning the motion."

Masanori smiled faintly. "We did get a choice, and some chose to go their own way. Now they increasingly make trouble for those they once called family."

There was a distant sadness in his eyes, a crooked smile at the ways things could change. "I never did meet Shiba-Kami in person, no... but I saw what Ryoko had become, how even the caravan of elders agreed with what she told us. I have always been a servant of my people - if they chose a new path, it was only fitting I follow them."

His voice carried a hint of melancholy, and he inquired, "Still - you saw something in Ryoko that you sought for the Imperial families - and we have tried to live up to that promise."

"Just do your best and everything will be alright."

Ayumu was not old by any physical standard, but he often felt like an elder when remembering how things were barely twenty years ago:

"At the beginning, people were doubting the divine nature of the Kami until they could see them with their own eyes. Now, we're starting to have the opposite problem, with people putting on a pedestal anyone who has been part of the Kami's entourage for a couple more years than themselves.

I blame propaganda from some of those who were there first, and from Nanzi of the Crane in particular. The man was instrumental in building a system that tries to make you forget he is a but a man. And yet that's what he is.

And so are all servants of the Kami. Mortals doing their best. No need to set impossible standards for yourself."

"Perhaps it is simply human nature. We seek those we can admire, and the further those inspirational figures go from us, the less the reality matters, in some sense."

A soft sigh. "The tales of my former tribe had similar troubles - fixation on the outcome meant that the difficulty of the process was smoothed over. The first generations who integrated with the caravan of elders were not so... seamless... as some would tell it. Yet details are exhausting, and as a historian, we wish to be heard, so perhaps we edit ourselves."

Stroking his chin, Masanori added, "Now that you are not on a mission to save a fallen god, what duties occupy your time then? You say you are less than a legend, and more than a single mission, and I doubt fixing tattered scrolls is the sum of your duties, no matter your humility."

"The curse of the historian is that he cannot stop at the legend people like to hear or remember, he has to go deeper for the less pleasant truth.

As for myself, at the moment, I'm focusing on training the next generation of Imperial civil servants. A complicated way of saying I'm teaching kids to write and read."

An old thunderhead emerged in the library, looking for respite. "Blasted Snow," they muttered, getting a giggle from their companion. Nozomi shot her such a look right then, grimacing and shaking her head. Mayumi was a little imp, but she was permitted to be one. Frankly, she was far too permissive and it would come back to haunt her one of these days. Still, the library was a refuge. The crowds of Crane preening over themselves weren't going to be found here all the time, and even if Nozomi had never been an avid reader, the smell of musty books was... something at the very least.

Seeing others present, she bowed in turn, glancing and seeing that her daughter bow. "-Samas...," she began before her lips crooked and she put on a bit of a roguish grin. "Jiyo-sama. Fancy finding you in this place and ... Ongaku-sama." She didn't bother to ask. The horns. She knew, though there was no look of displeasure or distrust there. She'd known of the Ongaku for a long time.

Mayumi tugged her arm and she glanced. They didn't point, but Nozomi sighed and nodded. Yes. She knew the question. "Yes, dear." And the girl was positively beaming as she stared at Jiyo Ayumu

"A noble task - one which might enable them to teach themselves, giving reach to the teacher who writes down his words, as much as he who speaks them."

As the stranger entered, Masanori turned, bowing in greeting. An arched eyebrow, clearly this person knew the Jiyo, so he stepped a half step back, in case he was intruding.

As she rose, she gave a little smile over at Masanori, shaking her head. "No, no, -sama. Don't stand on ceremony with me. Please, I'm just a monk and an old ... acquaintance of Jiyo-sama. Nozomi, of the Order, and this sprite is my daughter Mayumi." She kept her tone even as she spoke, though there was always the rumbling, grinding way that she talked. It had a roughness to it, and she'd never really intentionally mastered the fine art of speaking with the smoothness of the fledglling courts. She didn't want to do that. "I hope I'm not intruding too much."

"Not at all. I was simply intruding on Jiyo-san's work."

Masanori smiled faintly, glancing at the younger girl. "I'm sure he would prefer an interruption by an old friend."

"A pause in a task of little urgency is a small price to pay to make a new friend or to reconnect with an old one."

Ayumu saluted the newcomers with a very much informal light bow of the head.

"Nozomi, Mayumi, nice to see you again. How many years has it been since the last time? Pretty sure Mayumi was only half the height she's now by then."

He looked at them.

"Did you just come from outside, under that terrible weather? The library is not the warmest place in the palace – fire is not looked at keenly by librarians – but I should be able to sneak in a pot of hot tea and a few cups from the kitchen without getting too much of a side-eye to warm you up a bit."

She barked a little laugh. "You haven't changed much, Jiyo-sama. I swear you never truly meet a stranger, or they are not a stranger for long." She recalled that he'd always been very easy-going, back when they'd met, easy to meet and be friends with, even when she was cold, distant and suspicious all the time. It was good to see that hadn't changed.

"We've met?!?" Mayumi said in dismay. It made her mother smile a little sadly and apologetically, reaching over to ruffle the girl's hair. They had met, but when they'd met she'd been such a young girl that her memories of those days were vague, distant, hard to recollect.

"It was a long long time ago, Mayumi. Remember. We only visit here very rarely. Last time was a brief visit and The Emperor demanded all of our time then." That got a little 'oh' from her. It had been when she had demonstrated kiho to the court. There hadn't been much time for socializing in those days. "It really has been too long Jiyo-sama. And don't worry about us. We've had to deal with awful weather in the past, though I don't think I'd say no to tea."

Pause. "Ongaku-sama, won't you join us for a cup? I don't get to see your people nearly enough for my taste."

"Oh? You are familiar with my family?"

Masanori's interest was piqued - they were often kept somewhat apart, both by their status as Imperial messengers and also thanks to their unusual appearances which, while tolerated, still caused unease in some territories.

"I would be glad to share tea - I can fetch some, if you like, while you both catch up."

Unless stopped, he would slip away, knowing where and how to quickly obtain refreshments, thanks to many hours spent working amid these shelves.

She settled wherever directed along with her daughter, nodding over to them. Her daughter piped up before she had the chance to speak. "Mother fought alongside Ongaku no Ryoko. She said she was a fearsome one in battle." Nozomi had to restrain her laughter there, her generally permissive nature apparent as she shushed her daughter.

"In turn, child, in turn. Yes, one of your kin traveled with Jiyo-sama and I many years ago. She married a good friend of mine. Big guy. Real hard to miss Yamadono in a crowd, heh." For all that she usually had an off-put air, she had a soft spot for the Ongaku. Too many saw the horns and made assumptions, imperial or not. They had trouble figuring out what to make of them. Ryoko had clued her into quite a few of those things. So she tried to think well of them when she saw one. there were far too few as is.

Ayumu was already about to leave when Masanori offered his help, and he might have pretended not to have heard him and continued on his way. Half to cut short to the contest of courtesy, half because he wanted to do it himself to prove he still had his ways through the palace in spite of his long absence.

He returned from the kitchen with the tea and cups, having had to negotiate for it far more than he would have thought. The kitchen staff was organized as a small army nowadays, and he couldn't just hop in and help himself to what he was needed. "If everyone did it, we wouldn't have anything to eat within two days!"

Which, as someone who had to manage food reserves at one time, he knew to be both true and false at the same time. An exaggeration based on an actual issue. But still, didn't feel the same when he was the one getting reprimanded.

Still, he had his prize, and started pouring a cup for everyone.

"Please lay your cups flat on the floor when you're not drinking. The librarians would be mad if some liquid was to splash around, and while I suppose Sora is joking about repurposing our librarians as assassins because he's never met someone as silent and deadly as an angry library, better to be safe than sorry."