jigokulogs | [closed] a moon shaped pool

[Patrolling with Andy again... How nostalgic.

The dread in the air today, however, falls magnitudes above the dark sewers where they'd met. Unnatural red rain falls in a steady shower, dripping grotesquely off Kamui's raincoat and umbrella as the two make their way through an abandoned street. That coppery odor of blood hangs everywhere: sour, lingering nearly on the back of the palate.

It's a good time, Kamui muses humorlessly, to be having nosebleeds anyway-- for him, everything already tastes like blood.

So far, it's been a slow stroll. Fortunately. No civilians in need of assistance from the Enma, no Shuten barricades around the residential areas broken down. He's about to call it and ask Andy if she'd like to head out when he spots a small, furry gray shape taking shelter under a mailbox.]

Andy, look over there. [The thing turns sharp eyes toward him: it's a fat striped cat. A very familiar one. Which might even mean that...] Do you see that cat?

[But before she can reply, the cat arcs its back and hisses in their direction, bounding off into the bloody rain.]

J-Jeane, wait--

Edited 2022-06-09 15:53 (UTC)

[ It's different than that day in the tunnels. The metallic smell of blood is thick, even through the smoke of Andy's habitual cigarette. Something unnamed and heavy seems to cling to the skin, like an ominous humidity. Keeps her on edge, even if it doesn't show much on her face. The fact that they haven't seen much on their patrol so far somehow only makes that feeling worse.

She glances over at the sound of Kamui's voice, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of the katana at her hip as if expecting some kind of threat —

But it's just... A cat? ]

Jeane? [ Her brow pinches. ] Wait. Is that your fucking cat?

[ If it is, the damn thing is getting away. It'll escape for good in a minute — so she just assumes, ducking out from under Kamui's umbrella to give chase. ]

[Kamui's hand stays outstretched for a second, reaching out for Jeane in the air, but as soon as Andy's moving so is he. When he turns to face Andy as they run, the rain begins to fleck his face with droplets of red, but you wouldn't know it, for the wide grin tugging at his cheeks.

Kamui blurts:] No, no, she's not my cat. She always hated me, actually, so this is a good sign--

[Wait. He should back up. Kamui composes himself and tries again.] Sorry. Jeane's my best friend's cat. If she's here, so is Travis! [The gray cat slinks around a corner, and paws to a stop under the eaves of a building-- some love hotel on the very edge of Tamamo territory, apparently. As they approach the hotel's entranceway, Kamui slows, taking careful steps towards the cat even as he continues to chatter away.] Figures, that he'd show up in hell at a time like this... crazy stuff like this is definitely his style.

[Jeane casts them a final glower before she squeezes through the cracked-open hotel doors, her tail swishing with annoyance.]

He's a swordsman too, Andy. I'm really glad I get to introduce you guys.

[ Andy glances back at him, her attention catching for a moment on that wide grin. Has she ever seen him with a look like that on his face? With that excitement? If it's true what he says, that this chubby little creature somehow means that his best friend is here, then she supposes that's reason enough — but it's shit timing, isn't it? Now, with all the fucking curses and the gods-damned blood rain? In her experience, if it's too good to be true, it usually is.

But if she has her doubts, she doesn't voice them. Not sure why really. Maybe it's just... Hard to dash Kamui's hopes. Especially when he tells her he's glad. Fuck. Well. Her gut instinct could always be wrong. It isn't often, but these are unusual fucking times. ]

A crazy swordsman with a fat cat, huh. [ She glances up at the conspicuous hotel then towards the door where said fat cat conveniently vanished. Wryly: ] Not exactly who I would have pictured as your best friend, but I'm sure he's perfectly charming.

[ Only one way to go now. She steps forward, pulling the door and gesturing for Kamui to enter ahead of her. After you. ]

[As for Kamui, the prospect of Travis actually being here-- and the amount that the city's oppressive, malevolent energy has rendered his senses effectively useless-- has thrown all other possibilities out. It's a slender hope; paper-thin. He'll hang onto it, if he can. There's not much else out in hell right now otherwise.]

I think you'd like him. [HE SAYS, DELUDED] Mmm... well, you might. [Okay, not THAT deluded: they're both hard-headed people, but sue him if he'd like to believe his friends might actually get along.

With a quiet mutter of thanks, he takes the first step into the hotel. For what it is, it's actually indistinguishable from a slightly upscale normal hotel-- perhaps a bit more neon lighting and a bit more red in the decor, but this place is abandoned now, the reception area lit only by the feeble light that penetrates the dark cloud and rain.

As for the cat? She's already slipping into an elevator. The button dings and the doors shut before he can hurry over: the cat's already on the 7th floor.] Shoot... [Looks like they're taking the other one up. Kamui jabs the button again, waiting for Andy to join him again before he steps inside.]

[ Honestly? She might. Andy's always liked people with a little fight in them — even when that fight is directed her way. Maybe especially then. No accounting for taste, but it makes her hope that Kamui's right — that they're about to find his best friend, who just happened to arrive in hell with absolutely shit timing.

With a twinge of amicable dryness: ]

Guess if he likes you, he can't be a complete lost cause.

[ The inside of the hotel threatens to give her a headache though. Something about the neon lighting, maybe. Or the atmosphere. But there's no time to dwell — that damn cat is already making its escape. Andy exhales, picking up her strides to catch up with Kamui in the elevator. After a beat or two, maybe just to have something filling the space besides the elevator music: ]

Tell me more about your friend.

He was my last assignment before I arrived. Our meeting points were all across America, so we'd drive around together often. Ate at a lot of great diners together, too. We had a lot of fun.

[He leans against the wall of the elevator, tipping his head back to watch the floors above and across them tick up slowly: 3, 4, 5.]

... When it was all over, I was supposed to kill him. Or let him kill me. We fought to a standstill, he got the upper hand, and he just... stopped. He couldn't bring himself to kill me, because we were friends. I could've taken advantage of it. Easily. But... nobody had ever done anything like that for me before.

[6. Kamui backs up off the wall, stepping closer to the elevator doors. His expression's fond: he's ducking a little, because even if Andy asked for more, even he's sort of embarrassed by his own candor.]

That's the kind of man Travis is. He's loud and opinionated and acts stupid sometimes, but he's got a good heart and a good head on his shoulders when it really comes down to it. And... he was the first person to ever really be there for me.

[--ding; 7.

All of a sudden the elevator lurches, like someone's slammed the emergency stop from the inside: the cables above and below creaking with the strain. The doors only make it open halfway before they shudder to a stop-- there's only room for one person to squeeze out onto the 7th floor at a time now, and just visible through that gap is the cat. She stands, stalking away with a flicking tail once more.

And then, with a shower of sparks, the screech of metal bending and warping, and a telltale low, electronic drone-- a blade, bright blue and all too familiar to Kamui, plunges through the ceiling above as clean as a goddamn can opener.]

Andy! [He regains his balance and grabs her by the forearm--] The doors!

['Yo!' No, no, no. He knows the voice. He'd know the voice anywhere. There's panic on Kamui's face, and he grips Andy tight. 'Open the hell up, fuckhead!']

[ Funny, how just a moment ago she was feeling little more than suspicion towards this Travis — but hearing Kamui talk about him like that, telling her about the fun they'd had, how Travis spared him for the sake of friendship — that shit softens her up. Warms her to the idea of this man, despite her gut instinct. Of course it does. The look on Kamui's face alone — the obvious fondness. Andy's not immune. She's always been stupidly sentimental that way. A romantic, underneath the surface — and not even that deep down.

But now's a terrible time to be sentimental.

The elevator jerks, bringing her back to reality. She'd let her guard down — just a little, but that's more than enough to be dangerous. Makes her a half-beat too slow to react when that bright blue blade cleaves through the ceiling. But Kamui's grip on her forehead spurs her to motion, and she quickly closes distance to the doors, pulling Kamui with her. She spends a few seconds irritably jabbing the "open" button in rapid but futile succession before giving up, moving instead to dig her fingers into the tiny gap between the two doors to force them apart. ]

Get the other side!

[ They can't fucking stay in here. She can already tell — between her mediocre Department blade and that thing that cut through the elevator like paper, it would be a matter of time before that tiny space would be as good as a coffin for her. There's no fucking time. No time to think — even if in the back of her head, there's a chilling thought:

Is it him? ]

[Between the two of them, forcing the doors is working. But the clock's ticking. With a grunt and a particularly forceful yank, Kamui manages to afford enough space for a single person's width of space. Taking a page out of Andy's book, he shoves her through the gap first at the first opportunity he gets.

The timing's just right, too. As soon as the last of Andy's in the 7th floor hallway, a leg's jamming its way through the torn metal of the elevator ceiling: dirty jeans, a sneaker. And sure enough, dropping into that small, cramped space is a dark-haired man with spiked-up hair; a purple leather jacket over some stupid graphic tee; yellow sunglasses; a long and faded scar running over his left eye. But there's something wrong with him. He... flickers where he stands, unsteady lines rippling across his whole body like an old television; there's a tinny note to his voice like he's talking out of a busted speaker.

Even so, Kamui's breath nearly catches in his throat when he speaks:] Trav?

['Hey, Kamui,' Travis replies as he straightens up, half a head taller than him or Andy. 'Got kinda held up on my way down here. Sorry.'

Travis raises his sword.]

W-wait-- [The beam katana moves in a neat arc, cutting through the elevator doors as if through paper; the long slice in the metal is visible even from Andy's perspective. With a fraction of a second to spare, Kamui ducks the impact, then wriggles through the doors after Andy. As he hits the ground on one knee, the first slice in the doors is followed by another, and another, and another. Kamui scrambles over to Andy, trying to pull her back, too-- and at last, Travis kicks through the broken door, taking his first steps out into the hallway.

'So. Y'wanna finish what we started, or what?']

[ Fuck — she stumbles forward out of the elevator when Kamui pushes her through, whirling around quickly as if she could somehow pull him along with her. She can't clearly see what's happening inside there, but she can hear Kamui's voice when he says that name. How it wavers. Then that fucking freakish katana is slicing through the doors, and thank the little gods — there's Kamui. She reaches for him immediately, grabbing him by the arm at the same time he reaches back for her, both of them pulling each other back as Travis fucking Touchdown emerges into the hallway.

Enma's balls. She hates it when she's right. Right, and underequipped for it too. The hell is she supposed to do against that beam katana with the standard-issue blade in her hand? And mortal too. One cut, and Kamui's best friend will slice her right in half. Seems like bad odds. Real bad odds.

Well. Fuck it. She glances over at Kamui, her eyes all steel and her mind made up. ]

I'm going to fucking kill him.

It's not him, Andy! He looks-- The blood rain, it's... [blurts Kamui, all wide-eyed; it sounds a little like he's trying to remind himself of the fact as they get to their feet.] Trav wouldn't do this!

[Meanwhile, Travis-- a too-accurate mockery of the real deal, Kamui thinks bitterly-- shrugs, shouldering his weapon as he draws nearer. He doesn't seem to be attacking them, though: not yet. It's a good thing for all of them that even a false Travis still wants his battles to the death fair and square.

'C'mon, Kamui. You always knew how this shit was gonna end up, didn't you?' He slows to a stop mere feet from Kamui and Andy, one of his brows raised high. 'People like us,' he gives Andy a once-over, then keeps right on going, 'don't get to pack up and leave. Figured that one out after you left.'

Kamui shakes his head in disbelief. There's nothing to argue with here. Nothing more to say for an illusion-- especially one that's right. With one glance at Andy, he carefully withdraws his gun, pointing it Travis' way.

'The fuck? I don't get the whole villain monologue? What a fucking rip-off!' Miffed or not, Travis returns to his fighting stance at last. This time, it's for real. 'You and your buddy better show me a real good time!']

He's moving!

[Kamui fires his gun in Travis' direction, but misses. Travis charges at Andy swinging his sword in a horizontal, easily parried arc: he's trying the swordswoman out.]

[ When she hesitates, it's not because she gives a damn about Travis Touchdown — or whatever version of him has been summoned from all the fucking cursed energy that's been unleashed with the blood rain. She'd kill that phantasm in a heartbeat. Hell, given the right circumstances, she probably wouldn't think twice about drawing her sword against the real thing either. The fighting is easy. It's not that she's worried about.

No, it's Kamui she looks at — and when he draws that familiar gun, it feels like permission. She steels herself. Sure, they'll show this motherfucker a good time.

Andy doesn't even have to ask if he'll have her back. She knows he will. Just like before. So she just moves — and she moves like she was made for it, like she doesn't even think about what comes next. It's muscle memory and battle instinct that's been honed over centuries — and likely the only real advantage she has when her weapon is so outclassed. She can't clash with "Travis" directly — but she can dodge his swings, her black hair whipping behind her as she twists out of the way. When she lunges to counter, she takes the risk of pressing in close, aiming to strike where it would be hard to block, her blade gleaming in the low light as she thrusts the sharp tip at the doppelgänger's sword hand. ]

[By a few days into the citywide curse, Kamui's simply given up on the rain. Good thing they've got a red version of the 7/11 uniform, huh?

And good thing for Minakami showing up to work, too. With most other employees too scared or too afflicted by the terrible miasma that engulfs Jigoku-cho to actually come in, it's largely been Kamui and Kim out here, braving it all to keep this convenience store open. He'd rather be out here doing something useful, personally-- but that doesn't mean it isn't a lot of work.

After what feels like the millionth box of bottled water lugged from the back into the main area, Kamui leans back against the counter with a sigh. Glancing over at today's "temp":]

Thank you, Mina-san. I really appreciate this.

[People still need food and shelter in an emergency, even if it's the temporary shelter of a convenience store. He turns his gaze out through the windows: out on the street, that blood just keeps pouring and pouring.]

Edited 2022-06-09 21:00 (UTC)

[It would be too much to say that an equilibrium had been reached, when the city was still being flooded with arterial blood and phantoms were still stalking the streets... but if it wasn't getting better, then it wasn't getting much worse. So far.]

[Minakami and a handful of others had gotten in sight the Enma's tower, and had gotten nothing for their troubles besides... the knowledge that it was nearly a one-way trip. Now it was just a waiting game. Minakami might have had a legendary patience, but the stress and lasting fatigue from that first night were ebbing away at his limits. He'd volunteered at the store to have something to do, instead of stewing in his own head. And maybe he felt some kinship with someone who also seemed to be sticking out of Shuten at an odd angle.]

[Still, he gives Kamui a quick smile that was only a little strained, over his own cargo.] Ah, think nothing of it. D'you expect it'll be busy today?

[People might always need food, but with the streets stinking like an abbatoir... it was enough to kill anyone's appetite.]

I doubt it.

[The first few days-- a rush for basic supplies-- certainly had been. But Mina's right: the ever-present stench of blood does a hell of a lot of work convincing people to stay home. With no end in sight to this all, it's a bit of a relief. They still need to bring food home themselves, and the stock they had before all of this isn't going to last forever.]

But someone's still got to be here, just in case.

[Fruitless as it might seem.]

I don't want to tempt fate, but I'm hoping this place doesn't get looted, either...

[He pulls a face at that, putting down his box firmly enough that there's a rhythmic jangle from the plastic bottles wobbling around inside.]

Surely not? What purpose would that serve?

[One way or another, Minato's still a naive country boy at heart. On that note:]

You know, if it wasn't for everything else about this-- [where to begin,,] --I'd almost say the storm makes me think of home. Is that strange? If it isn't raining, most of the year, it's snowing...

What about you? Where are you from, back in the world?

[Kamui, meanwhile, is a city boy-- and although it's a far more peaceful place now, the 24th Ward had still been thoroughly beset by crime while he'd actually grown up there.]

Some enterprising thief builds up a stockpile, or sells the store's stock for his own gain. It's unfortunately a good time to take advantage. [A shrug. People are self-serving. He knows that well by now.] But we'll have to simply cross that bridge when we come to it.

[Even someone without powers like Kim could take a lone shoplifter, but looting's another story entirely. He doesn't want to think about it.]

And I don't think it's that strange. If you don't look outside, it sounds just like a normal storm... Does that mean you're further from the city? I'm originally from Tokyo's 24th Ward, but I was assigned to work in the 25th. [a beat.] I've been told most people only know of 23 special wards in their worlds, though.

Hm. [Somehow managing to pack in disapproval into that noise, even if he still sounds mild as ever.] Then I hope between us, we can act as a deterrent.

[Outside, a person with a flimsy plastic umbrella sprints past, splashing across the sidewalk. Minato stops in the middle of shelving to glance up at the movement, tense, but they don't approach the store, nor does it look like they're being chased by a haunting -- just someone trying to get home as fast as they can. He can relate.]

...Twenty-five? [This might sound like a normal interjection, until:] Not fifteen?

[He'd wondered if the labyrinthine sprawl of Jigoku-cho was more a reflection of Hell's unreality than anything, but if Japan of the future was anything like this, nine or ten more wards in the capital city wouldn't be entirely out of the question...] I was boarding in a family friend's house in Koishigawa Area 2, before my arrival. I'm not sure what number that translates to... But yes, I'm originally from Aizu, in Fukushima Prefecture.

[Kamui utters his own noise of vague agreement. Between the two of them, he wonders if maybe he'll be the primary deterrent: Minakami doesn't really look like much. Then again, neither does he.]

Only fifteen, huh. [He's had enough experience with this by now to ask--] You must be from before the 2000s, then.

I don't think I've ever visited. I've... mostly stayed close to home. [Working a lot. Studying. Turns out being a city boy doesn't make you totally worldly.] But it's no wonder it's familiar, what with the type of weather you get in Fukushima. It must be a beautiful place.

1922. June, to be precise. [A deep sigh:] Whisked away just after a week-long rainstorm, at that. I'm beginning to wonder if rain is unlucky across more worlds than mine.

It is. Coming to the capital was the first I'd really left home, myself. [Come to think, Shichigatsu Bon should be coming up next month -- if he's still here by then (and there's no indication he wouldn't be) it'll be the first time he won't be able to go home for it. He feels a pang of homesickness at the thought.]

Ah, but then you must be from after the 2000s, mustn't you? I've been wondering, if this city is an accurate reflection of the turn of the millennium. Even besides the yokai, some of its inventions are almost too fantastical to believe.

2005. [He holds the "and then 2018" close to his chest ~~until Tama blurts out he's a time traveler too, anyway~~.] It was the middle of fall, for me... just after a rainstorm too, actually.

[Some days, it's difficult to remember the 25th Ward itself. All he's seen of it for ages-- maybe even decades, if he counts up the loops-- is that same construction site. But it's difficult to feel nostalgic for those oppressive high rises; for people who have always overlooked him and cast him aside.]

Technology has come pretty far. Some of this is beyond my own time, but I don't doubt it would've been possible to develop such advancements over a decade or two. [CHEATING, because he's seen that decade ahead, but who's counting.] You'll have plenty of innovations to look forward to when you get home.

[~~surrounded by people who are CHEATING by peeking ahead in the timeline smh.~~]

[He leans his elbows on the shelf, giving Kamui an amused look over the top of the aisle.] Is that a roundabout way of wishing me a long life? I'll be a great-grandfather over a century old if I'm to see past the second millennium. I'll be too decrepit to enjoy these things by then.

[There is a bizarre part of all this -- assuming that misadventure or... other factors don't intervene, and he passes on after a more ordinary span of years, he's pretty sure his next life would be in the 2000s. It's the first he's really had a glimpse of what the next time might be.]

[He turns to occupy himself with another shelf, to cover those private thoughts. His voice remains light:] ...I suppose if I did make it that long, there's a chance we'd cross paths, huh? Anything you'd like to pass on to your younger self?

[Much as neither of them want to come into work during the apocalypse... it's actually been a bit of a blessing in disguise, still manning the 7/11. Kamui and Kim stay busy, and they have a direct line to supplies-- whether it's for themselves or for keeping the city clinic stocked during such a crucial time. It's hard work, but he's grateful to be here. Better to stay occupied than to spend all his time at home willing away the nightmares and his now-constant aching head.]

What a time to get your car back, huh?

[It's the end of a shift, and Kamui's finally getting a good look at the Kineema. What...ever the Kineema is, "car" is perhaps a liberal definition-- like a souped-up stagecoach on wheels, he thinks, eyeing it from beneath the 7/11's eaves as he shakes some blood (gross) off his umbrella.

Though he's a little on edge, he's been on edge. Nothing about any of this is right, or normal; it's unfortunate, but he's used to seeing fleeting shadows in the corner of his eye, distant shapes obscured in the rain. One human-sized shadow lumbers slowly toward him from some yards away, but it's got to be another illusion, from the way the blood-rain seems to simply phase right through its body. They should keep an eye on it. At least until they leave. Kamui frowns.]

I'm ready to leave when you are.

Edited 2022-06-17 08:35 (UTC)

It was lucky, wasn't it? [ Kim agrees, nodding his head. He had been elated when it had appeared before him, but he hadn't had anything in mind beyond endless joyrides, no longer having to take public transit to get to the other side of the city, and not having to carry large-ticket items back home by hand if he happened to see a particularly nice piece of furniture that was just screaming to be liberated from the curb. That he would suddenly become the main mode of transportation for people and goods alike during a hellish storm wasn't part of the plan.

Still, it feels nice to be useful. If he can't be out there fighting - which he could, if he was very stupid and had an overinflated sense of his own skill - then he may as well be making something of himself. ]

We should get going, yes. [ He unlocks the car and hops into the driver's seat, squinting a little into the darkness. He can barely trust his eyes at the best of times, and now? It's like he has to second guess everything. ]

Do you see that? [ He squints. It looks like the rain is just going through them, but that can't be. What if it's someone stranded out here. ] I don't want to run anyone over.

[ ...unless they deserve to be ran over. Apparently. His continual use of vehicular manslaughter is a new one for him. ]

[That makes two of them. Here, he's far from the most advantaged fighter; having something to do, and moreso to distract him, has been really invaluable. Not exactly what he had anticipated when he took the first open position that'd take him.

Kamui's got a hand on the Kineema already, prepared to jump into the passenger's seat beside Kim, when his companion spots the figure, too. So he hadn't been imagining that after all. He squints through the rain, too, but... to no avail.]

Mm. I can't tell who or what it is, though. If we check it out, we should be careful.

[He tries to pick up on the figure's criminal power; for his efforts, all he earns is an sharp twinge behind his left eye. Kamui winces, turning to Kim:] What do you think?

[Although Kamui's fairly certain of the answer he'll get, it helps not to assume.]

We need to do our due diligence. It could be anyone out there.

[ He leans into the Kineema, then pops open the glove compartment with a satisfying click, rummaging around in it until he produces a sturdy blue flashlight, blindingly bright with the sort of heft that betrays its usefulness as a club as well as its intended purpose. ]

Let's just be careful, all right? Keep your firearm at the ready. [ At least he assumes that Kamui has a firearm. He ought to, by that point. Special superpowered time agent or not, it's just not right for any officer to rely on fisticuffs for self-defense.

He shines the flashlight into the darkness, moving slowly, carefully. With the rain, even the beam of light he's shining into the street makes it difficult to discern who's there, exactly, but that's a person all right. Not like these horrible demons that have taken to prowling the streets. ]

Sir? Are you all right? We are... [ Damn, but he misses the authority of a badge. ] ...able to provide assistance, if need be.

[Kamui hums his agreement. He doesn't trust anything about the city right now: nothing's worth the risk of letting down one's guard right now. Without another word, he falls into line a step behind Kim, his gun at the ready and his eyes focused intently on the flashlight's feeble beam.

The man in their sights, for all the suspense, is... simply human-shaped. He's not even dressed in any remarkable way; just a dark suit, as if he were some salaryman stumbling his way home rather than another person stranded out here. He's even leaning against the wall of a building for support as he drags his way nearer. But the nearer the two get, the stranger that he seems. His messy white hair's plastered to his face; his head and shoulders are drenched in red; up close now, the beam of light catches on how his body wavers, horizontal distortions cutting across him and wobbling like an old television's snow.

The man looks up at Kim. His stare is wild, eyes bloodshot and manic. Finally, Kamui's eyes widen with recognition--] Shiroyabu-san?

['You're the one who needs help,' he says, 'Kamui's right there!'

Kamui swears quietly under his breath, taking a tentative step backward.] Kim, we have to move. He's dangerous.

['Unless...' Shiroyabu pulls a gun from his coat; shakily, he points it in their direction. 'Yes! You're Kamui, too! I have to kill you both!'

He doesn't wait for a reply. With a cold, high laugh, Shiroyabu pulls the trigger.]

[ The moment Kamui speaks out, recognition in his voice, Kim is ready to diffuse the situation. It's clear that the poor man is in an absolutely awful state, no doubt driven to some state of psychosis after whatever it is that he had seen, potentially dangerous, but it's certainly not a guarantee. This is the sort of situation in which cooler heads will prevail to convince others that they pose no threat, that they wish only to help, that any act of violence now would be a mistake. If Kamui knows him, then certainly he could convince him far better than Kim could.

This idea is quickly dispelled by Kamui's reaction, dismayed, as worried as he's ever seen the man. His hand curls more firmly around his firearm. ]

We can't just leave him out here, [ he mutters, not taking his eyes off of him, but then quickly, too quickly, Shiroyabu is reaching for his gun. In that split second, Kim is back to where he's been countless times before - a gun, a bullet, a fall, the acrid scent of gunpowder, the blood thick and sticky underneath his gloved hands - and the next he's hurling himself at Kamui. If the bullet hit home, it would have surely hit Kamui before it hit Kim, and that is by design; no matter how many times Kamui has apparently died, Kim feels no desire to let it happen around him. This is simply the way it works.

But luckily for them both, that's not what happens. Instead, it barely singes Kim's spine, zipping through the baggy fabric of his jacket - thankfully not his trusty favourite, which is hanging in his closet back home due to his reluctance to get it dirty in all this rain - and burning him close, too close, before whizzing directly into the window of the 7/11 behind them. As they land on the pavement, breath pushed out of his lungs and the sound of glass shattering ringing shrilly in his eardrums, he operates on instinct alone, firing blindly at Shiroyabu.

Lucky for him, Shiroyabu is close enough target that it would take true skill to miss him. Shiroyabu staggers backwards with a visceral cry of pain. Kim recognizes that sound. It's the sound of a dying man. Kim watches him fall, still laying atop of Kamui, too stunned to move.

He does not kill people frequently. He doesn't enjoy it. Every death, no matter how well-earned, burns itself in his memory. As well it should. This will simply join their ranks, Shiroyabu's eyes wide and afraid as he simply... falls. ]

Oh, god...

[ He should probably get off of Kamui now. But in the moment, he plainly forgets to move. ]

[He was fairly used to this dream, all things considered; blackness, out from which peered multitudes of seeking eyes, not in pairs, but singles. A single left eye, and a missing right which bore into the darkness.]

[Even after escaping its clutches, its power was lingering in the rain, searching for him.]

Eye.... eye.... where is it...? The right eye....

[The same foolish muttering as always. Was it actually there, still lurking in the darkness for its chance to strike? No matter what the case, Matoba had to press onward. Even if it was still following him, it couldn't try again for another month, and he had work to do to secure protective wards in the shelters wherever they were needed.]

[Nothing to do but continue forward, dispelling whatever nightmares and connecting with whatever Lost Souls he came across in his path.]

[There's only so much Kamui can do at the Shuten barricades and at the convenience store: eventually, he has to brave the blood rains once more to get home. Over these last several days, he's grown accustomed to the whispering nightmares that lurk after him, too. As if the city's cursed energy's realized that a recognizable face wouldn't work anymore, they've been abstract, of late-- always cloaked in shadow and just out of his line of sight, always looming somewhere above him. It's unnerving. With his raincoat pulled close, it reminds him of a certain fateful encounter with--]

Matoba-san?

[speak of the devil, huh? He hasn't seen him in weeks, but Kamui wouldn't forget the other man's face: not after meeting his curse. He approaches carefully. Matoba could be an illusion too for all he knows; Matoba could take him for an illusion too.]

It's rough out here. Where are you headed?

[Something passes in the corner of his eye. On edge, he casts a glance over his shoulder: nothing. This time.]

Ah... Kamui-san.

[He says it much more calmly than should be possible, tilting his blood-stained umbrella to offer the other man a greeting smile. Despite his composure, his eyes are rimmed with exhaustion; it's the only part of him that can't hide what he's been up to, out here.]

Indeed. I was just about to ask you the same... Surely, one such as yourself should be inside and protected, hm? [One without magic, he means, or at least the sort that could banish malicious influences. But he puts that side, and glances out into the gloom, pointedly not looking back at the eyes.]

It is vital for the health of the city that I maintain the protective wards cast around the various areas of shelter until things can be resolved at the Tower. I have finished reinforcing those in Sutoku territory and was on my way to offer the same with the other clans. Our Boss has directed us to cooperate as is necessary to ensure the city does not fall to malevolence.

[He glances back towards him, a curious gleam in his eye.] ...I am not aware of any spellcasters among the Shuten who might provide such protections... That concerns me, you see.

The visions manifest physically, as well... I may not have any capabilities with magic, but I'm able enough to help distribute supplies and help Shuten maintain the barriers.

[There's exhaustion in his face, too: a weariness in his manner and expression. It's rough work, seemingly endless work, and the rains refuse to stop. And yet staying productive is exactly what's keeping him from slipping into his own mind right now.]

I see where the concern comes from, though. [Are there any spellcasters within his clan? He seems to be running into the combat ready very regularly, but even he-- a trained killer but hardly a brawler-- feels like an anomaly amongst Shuten's ranks.] It's appreciated. In the end, we inhabit the same city-- and, for the lost souls, at the very least, we're all just trying to return home.

[He hesitates. Something feels wrong here. Intuition alone tells him this: having his powers back means nothing when the entire city is setting him off.]

Matoba-san... Isn't it close to the time of the month we first met?

Yes. I'm not too worried about them.

[Whatever that might mean; an exorcist was bound to be used to being attacked by shadows. Let them try and attack him, physical or no. He takes an interest in Kamui's apparent busying with maintaining the barriers.] Can you see them as well, Kamui-san? The weak points in the barriers? If nothing else, that will be very useful in maintaining your defenses.

[In truth, Matoba was concerned at the prospect of maddened oni rampaging in the streets. Of all the monsters in this place, they seemed as if they might be the easiest to fall to that corruption of emotion... Before anything rash could take place, he hoped to head it off, and provide extra protection.]

[Kamui seems to notice something and pauses, and when Matoba glances back to them he meets his unnerved and watchful eyes.]

[Ah. That. The eyes that have been at Matoba's back all this time suddenly swing towards Kamui, as if his words have invoked their attention. Mumbling grows louder. Eyes. The right eye.]

Oh, is that all? Pay them no mind. [His head turns back slightly- not to meet those watching, hungered gazes, but as if to address them.] That one is just sulking because it missed again.

...Your memory is very good, Kamui-san.

[closed] a moon shaped pool

⚔️ andy

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i cant believe i have an ic use for this joke icon

i've fulfilled my life's purpose

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1/2

2/2

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🐟 mina

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blearily flipping through history books...

lmaooo me also wiki-ing before i tagged

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🚙 kim

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👁️ eye stuff

👁️‍🗨️👁️‍🗨️

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