jigokulogs | [open] a real nightmare

[ Honestly, she's not sure why she's bothering with this whole scavenger hunt to begin with. Chalk it up to killing time — and maybe needing a new hobby, now that her freshly mortal flesh can't tolerate her centuries-old alcoholism the same way it used to. It's not the same when you can't drink, smoke, and fuck with the impunity of immortality, but laying around and rotting is, frankly, boring. So. Here she is.

She'd talked to shirime just a little while earlier and was mulling her options over a cigarette when someone else approaches. Similarly one-eyed, she notes. If he's an asshole, that's a matching pair.

Wryly, through a haze of cigarette smoke, she comments uninvited: ]

It's almost definitely porn.

[ He exhales out of his nose in exasperation, his attention focusing more firmly on kejourou. Considering he's talking to a prostitute and an asshole monster... He's pretty sure his spectator is correct. ]

So what's wrong with this asshole they're too shy to push a button, not too shy t'ask a stranger for their smut.

[ Why. What. ]

[ She probably shouldn't find the whole scene entertaining, but the shirime isn't the only asshole currently present. Besides, being alive as long as she has, you take your amusements where you can. ]

Maybe they weren't anticipating a stranger with such a keen sense for smut. [ A little shrug of her shoulders. ] I'm not judging. [ Dryly: ] Who knows. Might be quality shit.

[ Maybe it's her way of offering condolences for the man's inconvenience when she holds out her pack of cigarettes in his direction. In her experience, a smoke can make a lot of things more tolerable. ]

Edited (oops html ) 2022-05-12 12:44 (UTC)

[ Keen sense for-- He scoffs. ]

Just lived in th'entertainment district too damn long.

[ As in, he has barely ever lived anywhere else. Kamurocho in Tokyo, Sotenbori in Osaka, and now this. He glances at the offered cigarette with that same slightly exasperated look that he wears most of the time and then accepts. ]

Yeah, I'm sure it's real special. When I was runnin' a club I'd run around for this shit cuz I needed t'know what girls to pull in, ain't got no reason for it now.

[ This disappoints the kejourou who was really hoping she'd scam him into getting her that picture. Majima gives her a look too. ]

What, I'm just doin' it outta th'goodness of my heart?

[ Oh god, he's probably going to. ]

[ He's going to, isn't he? Damn, alright. She was thinking it sounded like a bit of a goose chase herself, but hey, like she said — no judgement — and now she's half interested in how the whole thing will turn out. Maybe she will see this shit through after all.

Wryly: ]

You aren't curious about what kind of porn gets collected by a demon with an eyeball in its asscrack?

[ Obligingly, she holds her lighter out and flicks the small flame to life, her hand cupped around it as she leans closer, offering it to him. ]

[ He leans in to light it, good eye flicking up, ]

Ass, I'm assumin'.

[ (Rimshot) He glances up at the kejourou buried in all of her hair. And then he relents, like everyone knew he would, ]

Fine. Which club does this guy work at? I probably know him anyway...

[ He says he 'used to' run a couple clubs. He forgets to include that he now moonlights as a hostess in drag. ]

[ Ass is, admittedly, a pretty good bet. ]

I asked around earlier. [ She nods her head in a general direction up the street. ] Place isn't too far. I was thinking about heading that way.

[ Another drag off her cigarette, another mouthful of smoke. ]

You seem pretty at home here. Like you know the neighborhood. I'd probably get farther with you than without.

[ It's an offer, if somewhat one-sided. ]

Ya ever been t'a host club?

[ He inquires, motioning up the street. Let's go then, he doesn't care if she tags along. ]

[ Works for her. ]

Sure. Now and then. Host clubs, hostess clubs. [ She gives a little shrug before going on wryly: ] Why? Were you going to give me the beginner’s course?

Sure was.

[ He agrees. The vast majority of Lost Souls he talks to don't know fuck all about what this district is like. They don't get the very Japanese entertainments, they don't get the culture, they don't get the yakuza. So now Majima is a walking information booth. ]

Saves me th'effort if ya already know how t'act in there though.

[ Fucking. Lol. ]

[ Well, ain’t that charitable of him though. In his shoes, she might have been more obliged to just watch a fool fumble their way through it. Makes for a memorable first experience. ]

Never said I’d be on good behavior.

[ She glances his way. ]

Depends on the company.

[ He glances back at her, ]

Hosts? They're a pain in th'ass. They're all vain as fuck an' all they do is backstab each other over chicks an' fight.

[ Yes, he is playing obtuse. His lazy sarcasm conveys that well enough. ]

[ There’s a small pause on her end. Then, abruptly - a short, bark of a laugh. It’s a sharp sound, harsh and a little mean somehow. ]

Is that how you feel? [ With a wryness to match his sarcasm: ] And here I thought these were your people.

They lose their glamour when you've been th'management.

[ When you've seen behind the curtain and it's all a big ruse. But putting on the ruse is fun. Being someone else for the night. That's the part that Majima enjoys. ]

What'd she say her guy's name was?

[ The ruse is fun. The suspension of belief. She's been around the block enough times to understand the reality of it all, but that doesn't mean she can't appreciate the fantasy. The escapism. ]

Keizobo, I think? [ A little shrug. ] Apparently he's got amazing legs.

[ Not anyone she knows. But hey, this guy has a finger on the pulse of the clubs around here, right? ]

That enough to go on, Mr. Manager?

Yep.

[ He takes out his phone and starts to poke through his contacts. He glances up at the sign as they approach the side of the club. Right, Keizobo at Club Infinity. Majima puts in the number and clears his throat.

When starts talking on the line, he's slipped into a breathy falsetto. His lilting Osaka-ben goes even more musical, ]

Keizobo-kun, did ya get into trouble on yer way home? Hm. I met a fan of yours, wanted t'make her day an' get a cute picture of ya. Uh-huh. Sure, I can do that for ya. In a little bit then.

[ He ignores Andy studiously as he accomplishes this task. Hanging up with a sigh and returning to his normal baritone. ]

He wants me t'bring him somethin' for lunch but he'll do it.

[ He puts his cigarette back to his lip and waits for whatever reaction she feels the need to have. ]

[ It's not even the voice that surprises her the most — although it is a surprise, judging by the way her eyebrows raise ever so slightly towards her hairline — it's how easy he does it. Like flipping a switch. And suddenly there's a whole different person coming out of his mouth. It's totally disparate with the look on his face. With everything. And honestly... It's impressive? Maybe even a little entertaining?

The fact that she feels that way sort of surprises her too. At her age — with her experience — she really shouldn't be surprised or impressed by much anymore. She has to take a drag off her cigarette before she can answer, huffing out a quiet half-amused exhale that probably fails to communicate everything she just experienced. Finally: ]

Well. This is clearly a one man show, and I'm just along for the fucking ride. [ Reaching out, she takes the undue liberty of clapping him once on the back. ] Can't wait to see what other shit you've got up your sleeve.

I'm pretty good in a fight too.

[ He answers lazily and doesn't really show any particular pride or ego for what he's done. It's a skill that he learned for survival. The yakuza he once worked for have placed him into increasingly precarious situations. He somehow survived a year in a black site, and when he was released he was asked to perform miracles.

So he learned how to. That persona was nicknamed The Lord of the Night; king among the nightclub owners in Sotenbori. This persona is Goromi; a hostess just like all the girls that he trained, only even more vibrant. She gives Majima a break from himself, from the expectations of yakuza life; all the violence and drama. All wrapped up in a pretty, controlled environment of fantasy. ]

We just need t'pick up some hotdogs though.

[ There, he smiles a little bit. ]

[ She supposes in a way, she's done a similar thing with her life — though stretched out over the centuries, it's not nearly so impressive. Different cultures. Different eras. Different identities as a necessity, to keep her immortality hidden. To change with the times. ]

Yeah? [ Her interest seems mildly piqued when he mentions fighting. ] Careful. You'll get me curious, and then I'll pick a fucking fight with the hot dog guy just to see what you've got.

[ That's probably a joke. Probably.

She nods up ahead where there's a few scattered food carts and vendors. ]

Come on, lunch is on me.

Oh yeah?

[ He's amused by the need to contribute, he figured she was really just along for the ride. Maybe throw out a few more snarky comments at his expense. But he's not complaining. ]

Ya can leave th'hot dog guy out of it, I'll fight ya some time if ya want.

[ He generally prefers not to hit women, but if a woman goes straight to 'let's see what you've fucking got then' he's not going to pretend like they can't handle themselves. As they get closer, he scans for the requested hot dog cart. He spots it: Japadogs. Hope you like mayo and nori shreds. ]

Edited (typo) 2022-05-15 03:55 (UTC)

[ She eyes him again, like she's deciding if he's serious or not. After a second though, she shrugs easily enough, apparently content with this arrangement. ]

Sure. Consider the hot dog guy spared.

[ Just in the nick of time too, because they're coming up on the hot dog stand and its vendor, who is blissfully unaware that there was, until Majima's merciful intervention, a nonzero chance that Andy might have socked him for funsies. Instead, she places her order like a normal person, then waits for Majima to do the same for himself and their host friend before she pays — just as promised. ]

Is that a thing you do a lot? Casually offer to fight strangers?

What, ya never talked to a Shuten before?

[ Shuten is a fucking type. ]

Come down t'the Arena, we'll get a crowd goin'.

[ There's a little manic hint of light in his usually rather morose expression. He loves to fight; she'll find out, there's a reason Nishitani is in love with him. It smooths back out as he accepts the trays of food into his hands. He thanks the vendor as they go. ]

[ She seems entertained by that question, the corner of her mouth quirking upward ever so slightly. Sure, she's met a couple Shuten boys. None quite like this one though. Rowdy things, yeah, but maybe a little softer. Nobody she'd brawl with. Not like she wants to brawl with him.

It's probably not healthy. But violence is what she knows. Violence is a language, and one she understands better than most. ]

Been there a few times. [ She keeps in step with Majima, half-absently glancing over to see what the food turned out like. ] Have to make my booze money somehow.

[ Majima is a little broken. They broke him on purpose. They were trying to train an attack dog but they fumbled the play. He's still too willful. Frenetic and spirited and bone-shatteringly loyal. There's chaos and intensity and pain bound up in Majima. The hannya on his back guides his life and she is always screaming. ]

Then I'll see ya there.

[ He smiles, uses his shoulder to push open the door to the host club. It's still early for them, they're not yet taking customers. Hosts are instead sweeping, wiping down tables, helping to prep garnishes for the bar, making onigiri, mending clothes, eating lunch, gossiping.

Keizobo recognizes Majima because of the ever distinctive eyepatch, ]

Ah, Goromi-chan you came through. Is this your daytime look? Yakuza chic?

[ An accurate description. A red button down shirt, jacket, family pin, slacks, and snakeskin shoes. A gold necklace glitters on his collarbone. Majima still gives him a withering look as he holds out the food, answers in his regular voice, ]

As requested.

[ There's a chuckle. ]

Fair enough, here's your autograph.

[ One glossy headshot for one mayo and nori shred hot dog. ]

[ Andy's breaking was done bit by bit, century by century. Like Chinese water torture — one drop at a time. And some part of her, deep down, is always screaming too. Screaming for release. For answers. But she never got either. Not for almost seven thousand years. So now she drinks and smokes, fucks and fights. And she pretends like those seven thousand years have detached her enough from her own humanity that she doesn't really give a damn anymore.

Maybe it's starting to become the truth. Maybe that's worse. Maybe at some point, she really will feel nothing — and then it'll all just be killing time. This — this outing, this impulsive diversion, whatever it is — at least it's all in good fun. And nobody's gotten hurt yet, which means she's doing better than usual.

While Majima — or is it Goromi-chan around here? — handles their transaction, Andy gives Keizobo the onceover. When the host departs, hot dog in hand, she finally comments in a deadpan: ]

The legs weren't that great.

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