"Isn't it high time you passed them off to a museum? The bachelor of science Mizushima Kangetsu, lecturer on the mechanics of hanging, does his reputation no favors in donning the worn threads of some shogun's bygone vassal." "But for a certain someone, I'd gladly heed your counsel. A certain someone says these ties suit me superbly ..." "Who's that? Who could purvey such poor taste?" the master exclaims in a loud voice as he rolls himself over. "It's no one you would know ..." "Known or not, tell us who." "A certain female." "Ha ha ha ha ha. A romantic, have we? Let's guess. Might it be that same young lady who called your name from the bottom of the Sumida River? What say you don your haori and play the perished soul once more?" Meitei butts in with his own two cents. "Heh heh heh. There'll be no more calls from the river bottom. She's back in the world of the pure, northwest of here in fact ..." "Doesn't seem so pure to me. That nose is downright toxic." "Huh?" Kangetsu returns a dubious look. "We were intruded upon by that nose cross the way. Right here. Caught us both off guard. Isn't that right, Kushami?" "Yup." The master, still reclining, sips his tea. "By nose, to whom do you refer?" "That mother of your ever beloved." "Huuh?" "Mrs. Kaneda came asking about you," the master explains in direct terms. He watches Kangetsu's face for surprise, delight, shame, or any other reaction, but sees none. "I suppose she wants me to wed her daughter." Kangetsu replies in his usual quiet manner. Once again he twists his purple ties. "Far from it, it seems. That mother sports the grandest of noses, and ..." Meitei begins, only to be interrupted by the master. "Listen here. All this while I've been thinking up verses to honor that nose." This from out of left field.