jigokulogs | [open] a real nightmare

[ 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.

[ He barks a short laugh, leading the way back out. ]

Guess ya ain't gonna be a repeat customer then.

[ He heads for a bench where he can consume his own lunch before they head back up to prostitute-chan. He is also aware that he probably has to actually introduce himself now. ]

Name's Majima, by th'way.

[ She forgets to eat properly, most of the time. It's something she's had to start fixing since she arrived here — this mortal flesh, rid of the old curse, doesn't regenerate anymore, and she can't subsist on cigarettes and alcohol alone — but old habits die hard. In that way, sitting and eating lunch like this is a novelty.

Flicking the stub of her cigarette to the ground as she sits, she grinds it out under her shoe before picking up her hot dog. She gives Majima a sidelong glance when he offers his name, letting a little pause settle in as if it isn't automatic for her to offer her own name back.

Finally: ]

People call me Andy. [ Casually then, moving on: ] Been in hell a while?

Couple months. Was in another yokai village before this.

[ And Hakagemachi was a significantly worse place to be. The yokai town had become unmoored from the rest of reality due to the corruption and subjugation of its local gods. It was a nightmare place, out of time and festering with cursed magic. ]

[ And here she'd spent the last seven thousand years thinking her pseudo-immortality was as supernatural as shit could get. Joke's on her. This guy's been in and out of demon villages like it's no big ass deal. Hell has been enlightening, if nothing else.

Wryly: ] You make it sound almost fucking mundane.

Can't do nothin' about it.

[ So he just takes a big bite and chews. ]

It was worse in Hakagemachi, mostly happy not bein' there anymore.

[ She hums out a little noise of acknowledgement around a mouthful of hot dog. He's not wrong. Honestly, she'd have suffered a lot less over the last several centuries if she were any good at just accepting when she can't do a damn thing. It's a shame she's both stupid and stubborn. Neither thing is especially helpful when you're strong enough to get away with it.

Maybe being here is apt punishment, in that way. Now she's more human than she's ever been. ]

Guess we take what we can get while we can get it. [ Absently, she thumbs away a little stray sauce from the corner of her mouth. ] Never know when everything is going to go straight back to shit again.

Any time, disruptin' another clan's stability is play number one for yakuza.

[ He's ready, he's waiting, and he's watching for how he can protect what's his through the inevitable chaos. ]

That's without even gettin' in t'all the shit yokai get upset about. Their egos are real sensitive.

[ She would do the same — if she still had anything left to call her own. But now, in this place, she doesn't even have the fucking curse anymore. It's left her untethered, clinging to vices and old bad habits instead. Today's been one of her better days. Less wallowing in her own despair and grief than usual.

It's surprisingly honest when she replies almost half to herself: ]

I miss that. Having people. A clan. [ Wryly: ] Something worth fighting some pissed off yokai over.

[ She's Enma now, technically — but she hasn't gone out of her way to make friends, and it isn't really the same thing, is it? ]

[ Oh god, lady. He swallows uncomfortably, making a valiant attempt to ignore the hornet's nest of emotion she just rattled like that. Fucking rude? ]

Ya'd make a good yakuza, huh.

[ He doesn't have enough food left to truly hide behind so cigarette it is. ]

[ She hadn't really meant to say it. Honestly, she was half-unaware that she actually had until he answers her. She'd been somewhere else, some place a couple thousand years ago, dwelling on those fragmented memories. That distant look in her eyes focuses back in, and she's present again at the sound of his voice. For a half-beat, she seems as uncomfortable as he does.

But he's got his cigarette, and she's got her habitual wryness, plus a little hot dog left besides. It's enough to get past that moment — or at least pretend to. ]

I don't have nearly enough tattoos. [ There it is, a bit of dryness to ease the conversation past anything too deep. ] And I can't even be assed to put a fucking bra on in the morning, let alone a whole gods-damned suit.

[ He's ignoring it, refusing to get caught up thinking about the clan and the family lost to him. ]

What's everybody got against wearing a suit?

[ Wondered to himself as he gets up to throw out his trash. ]

[ Denial is a good tactic. One of Andy's favorites. ]

Nothing against how it looks. [ She clarifies with a little shrug, coming to join him so she can dump her trash too. Brushing her hands off, she goes for another cigarette. Now that she's mortal, she should probably smoke less? But fuck it. She's already in hell, isn't she. ] Just too much work for a tired old bitch like me.

[ Reaching out, she takes the liberty of clapping Majima on the back, right between the shoulders, just once. Wryly: ]

Don't worry. It looks perfectly fine on you.

[ A snort of amusement, accepting the sardonic reassurance despite that not being quite it, ]

Tryin' to get th'Shutens t'dress right, an' they're bucking.

[ So apparently everyone is too old and tired to follow the yakuza dress code. He ambles back up the street towards their waiting kejourou. ]

Barely got 'em into suits for th'funeral.

[ Right. The funeral. She remembers that from when she first arrived — though not too well. At the time, she'd been a little preoccupied with an acute existential crisis and brand new morality, on the cusp of blowing the top of her own head off just to know if being in this fucking place was real — and if they'd actually taken the curse away from her.

Maybe this is a kind of progress, just walking down the street like this. Talking. Even with the eyeball-asshole demons involved, it's almost a shred of normalcy. She wouldn't admit it, but having other people around has always grounded her. ]

Maybe the oni just can't be bothered with the maintenance. Wouldn't envy the dry cleaning bill. Bloodstains and bullet holes are a fucking pain the ass. [ Dryly: ] But hey, at least you'll look handsome while you bleed the hell out.

[ That gets a sharp, fanged smile out of him. The primary emotion he tends to exude is weariness but for a moment he's lit up again with the frenetic energy that's there under the surface. His tone is snidely amused, ]

Oh yeah, that's a real priority.

[ It might be, considering how the yakuza operates. His expression relaxes down to a little smirk as they find their way back to the kejourou on the porch. He takes the glossy headshot out from where he'd stowed it in his jacket. ]

Here. Outta th'goodness of my heart.

[ Andy stands patiently to the side, waiting for the exchange to happen as she lights herself a fresh cigarette, nicotine and tar mixing with the lingering taste of Japadog in her mouth. The flavor of hell, she supposes.

When Majima finishes up with the kejourou, she comes over to meet him. ]

So? Where to, boss?

It's off Hongumi Street, behind the Poppos. Which is...

[ A lazy glance around, referencing an incomplete but growing mental map. ]

Uphill.

[ This quarter of the district slopes upwards towards its outer border, where the highest point houses a shrine. Only the peak is reserved as a cultural site though, the rest of the slope upwards is as lurid as the rest of town. ]

Ya been up t'the shrine yet?

[ In her old life — her pre-hell life — she would have made it a point to get a sense for the lay of the land. But, fuck it, she's mortal and untethered now, so she's mostly memorized the path between her personal shithole in Enma housing and the nearest three or four liquor stores. She'll have to count on Majima for this one.

In response, Andy shrugs lightly. ]

Haven't been much of anywhere. [ The whole existential crisis thing has really put a damper on her drive to explore. She squints into the distance, up the hill in question. With dry amusement: ] Didn't even know they had fucking shrines in hell. Wonder who it's for.

It's a good luck shrine.

[ That's why there are a large number of pachinko parlors on the slope, each claiming to be THE #1 BLESSED PACHISLOT ARCADE. ]

It's got a nice view.

[ They don't have to go all the way up though, they hit Hongumi after a couple blocks and can just work their way inwards until they find the convenience store in question. And around the back... a tight, dingy little alleyway that leads to the infamous vending machine. Yep, that's... all porn. Weird yokai porn. He genuinely doesn't even want to know why there's a Kasa-obake on the front panel of that one... ]

What was it... A5?

[ He fishes for some yen coins out of his pocket. ]

[ The luck she can take or leave — never believed in that shit much anyway — but she doesn't mind the view, even from half way up the hill, however fleeting the glimpse is before they're winding their way into that back alley for their prize. Honestly, looking at it, she's not sure what she expected. It's. Porn. Just as advertised. The strangeness of it is almost a little compelling. ]

A5. [ She confirms, digging into her own pocket for a couple coins to contribute. Her eyes trail along the magazines to find the slot in question — A5. Out loud, she reads with vague amusement: ] "Juicy Peaches?" Fuck.

[ He reaches back to accept her offering, slotting the coins into the machine one by one. A5 it is. Knowing this adventure, he wouldn't be surprised if their prize got caught in the machine. There's a dull baited moment waiting to see if it will actually rattle out into the catch. When it does, he's almost surprised. ]

Huh. Ass it is.

[ That part isn't so shocking at all. ]

Need anythin' else from th'rag machine?

[ What a shithead. ]

[ It's almost anticlimactic, really. The ass demon wanted ass porn. The whole scenario is just ridiculous enough to have made the effort halfway worth it. At least good company keeps the entire affair from being a total loss. She can admit that she had a bit of fun. ]

Why? You want to get me a souvenir? [ She asks back dryly, playing along. ] A memento of our little fucking adventure?

[ Ok, now it's too funny. He snickers to himself and feeds the machine another set of coins. She can have the one with umbrella yokai on the cover. ]

Sure, I'll even pick one out for ya. Special.

[ He leans down to snag it from the bin and offers it out with vicious cheer. ]

[open] a real nightmare

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