Greenroom VIII

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My office was lined with shōji (traditional Japanese sliding doors) that I normally always kept open

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My office was lined with shōji (traditional Japanese sliding doors) that I normally always kept open. My flooring was primarily tatami mats, although I did have carpet in the bedroom. There was a circular window above my desk where I had hung a potted plant over it. My desk was low to the floor, as I preferred using zaisu (floor chairs) over western chairs. It made it so much easier to flop onto the floor for a quick nap.

In my office I kept a kotatsu table with plenty of zabuton (floor cushions for seating) around it. Every day my kotatsu had some kind of freshly baked treat that I prepared at around two in the morning because I did not need sleep so I got bored at night if no one was keeping me company. It became a routine after the first decade. Wake up at two, bake something, tend to the sheep, then do whatever duties I needed to do as captain of the 5th division.

That was about the end of my "traditional" style.

The barracks for the 5th division was the prettiest and most feminine. That was because I literally made it with my own two hands and decided to practice my woodworking skills.

Hey, I had thousands of years to kill before the story finally rolled around. Picking up odd hobbies were a necessity to keep me from starting wars out of sheer fucking boredom.

Unsurprisingly after a while, I used my skills on my division barracks.

Every single post and wall had some kind of woodworking design hammered into it. Most of it was flowers, or feminine-esque designs because it was so not want Genryūsai would want one of his badass military divisions to look like. To that day, over a thousand years since I made the change, Genryūsai would still wrinkle his brow as he glared at the flowers every time he had to visit the barracks.

A couple centuries ago he even had the audacity to swap out all my pretty artwork for standard, uncultured, plain ol' wood when I went out on a long term mission.

In retaliation, I gave the first division a fabulous hot-pink makeover.

What followed over the next century could only be described as an incredibly petty war between student and teacher.

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