jigokulogs | JULY CATCH-ALL

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JULY CATCH-ALL

Who ⬤ Kim Kitsuragi & YOU
What ⬤ Various July activities! I'll be writing up custom starters throughout the month -- I'd be happy to whip them up for anyone who's interested, so feel free to hmu on plurk or on the CR meme HERE.
When ⬤ Throughout July
Where ⬤ Throughout Jigoku-cho
Content Warnings ⬤ Adult language and subject matter, likely some discussion of the blood rain's traumafest.

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I've hopped places with many different people. In my view, it's pretty simple.

(keep your head down, don't touch anything, be a bit of a ghost - and if it's nobu, let your hair down, but respect the other's space and privacy. it's what he could do, given the fact he would rather chew his own arm off than to live with his stepfather. ryoko's house is crowded, too many growing teens coming and going, and she's never home as is.

either way, he'll have to agree... and disagree. feels like the last place he dared to escape to, just a bit more fantastical. he could go into that, but the bowls now are set in front of them, and shin grimaces as the chopsticks are given with them.

fuck. yeah. no. he can't pick a single sushi with them, much less noodles. if he tries, it'll be an embarrassment. if he doesn't, it's just more information that can be used to take advantage of him later.

well, shit. he's going to have to try.)

No, it doesn't. We should keep an eye out for whoever warns him to practice more discretion... or whoever wants to take advantage of him, I suppose.

[ Both are equally likely. Kim shifts on his stool, sighing over his cup of liquor. ]

That's another way in which our homes differ. Substance abuse like that is more common than not where I'm from. I don't... [ He hesitates. ] Feel positively about taking over that sort of sordid business, but better from a controlled source than not, I suppose. [ His eyes flit towards Kimmuriel. ] Is this not a serious problem where you live in the underground?

[ If Kim hadn't seen what he's seen, experienced what he's experienced, had his eyes truly opened to the sort of horrors that a place like this could wreak, he would likely dismiss Jon's admittedly detailed story as the ramblings of someone who isn't quite well. Deserving and in need of help, yes, but unwell nonetheless. It would be a stretch to say that the man is doing fine, but his disturbance comes from a different place than what Kim may have immediately assumed, what felt like a lifetime ago. Instead, he feels as though he's back at work as a criminal investigator, listening to an unnaturally cooperative witness share his story, something that should be taken down, taken apart, and put back together again until he lands on some semblance of the truth. He only just manages to resist removing his notebook from his pocket to take some notes proper, instead choosing to do the more empathetic thing and not make the poor man feel as though he's simply a figure in his microscope, trusting his own memory to jot all of this down once they've parted ways.

After all, he's not getting a dispassionate review of events, not in the way Kim would tell it. This is personal. Of course it would be regardless of the way Sims told it, but he's not bothering to conceal how affected he's been either. All of this was probably just contained within him, bursting to get out somewhere, and Kim is both a willing and gentle spectator to this, as good as any for someone with a lifetime's worth of misplaced guilt to unleash it.

It's also -- a lot. It's a lot to take in. Kim is not good at emotional conversations in the first place; to react to all of this in a way that's sufficient is damn near impossible. ]

Okay. That's... khm. That's a lot that's happened to you and yours. You have my condolences for having experienced it. [ What else is there to say? He sets down his drink with a quiet clink, thinking about what to say, what to do. Deal with what's in front of him, he supposes, which is a man so deeply traumatized that Kim doubts that any amount of counseling would put a dent into it. ]

...with all due respect, while they sound similar, I don't think that was them. Not truly. What you're discussing sounds far more powerful than what we had experienced, and this place has supernatural powers of its own at work. Its own history, its own culture. It would be too forward of me to rule it out entirely, of course, but my gut tells me it's something different. [ His eyes, magnified by his glasses, flit up to meet Jon's as filled with sorrow and guilt as they are. ] And the way we were rid of it isn't something that would have worked in your case, to hear you speak of it.

If you're eighteen, I'm twenty-five.

[ Hey, two can play at that game, Shin. He doesn't believe the kid for a second. As someone who had a babyface well into his adulthood, he fancies himself pretty good at telling when someone is lying about their age, which Shin most certainly is -- and why not? It's not as though they carry around IDs here. He would have done the same at his age. Had done the same. He had managed to lie his way into a bar before, not realizing that his youth was quickly ending before he got a decent chance to live it. ]

But it's true that in many respects, this city is not unlike every other highly populated city. They all come with the same dangers. The yokai are new, though.

[ Like Shin, he frowns down at the chopsticks set in front of them. What this place has against forks, he'll never know. With a sigh, he picks them up with a hand that is decidedly inexpert, then glances over at Shin. ]

...You don't know how to use chopsticks?

[ He's surprised. He shouldn't be, the hypocrite, but he's become accustomed to being the odd man out. ]

[He waits once he's finished. Jon has barely really even touched the drink in his hand beyond just tilting the glass back and forth and around in a circle by its bottom. He's never laid it all out before, even with some of the finer details of his own suffering omitted. It's odd. Having it all out of his head, to someone who's had no idea what could happen.

It's a dismissal that greets him, though. A gentle one, words meant to ease him down from the panic that had started to spike at being so open and vulnerable and seen; Jon starts to slowly close up again. He runs one hand down his face, settling to just letting it cover his mouth and chin as he turns his gaze down at the table space between them.

Of course it sounds mad. If it had been Jon on the other side of this, he'd have likely been less kind about the dismissal. Internally filing the information away to examine later, of course, but. He remembers a lot of his comments at the start of the job. He'd truly hurt some of those statement givers - he can never truly forget what he'd said to Naomi Herne, nor that very first head butt with Melanie - and sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he could go back and change that.

Now isn't really the time. He needs to focus on what's in front of him. After all of that emotional outpouring, he takes a steadying breath. Forces his voice quiet and calm, even so as to not betray his heart here.]

You'll understand if I can't accept that. I'd like to do my own research into this.

[ He turns back to the bar, but he keeps an ear out, almost literally. His hearing isn't supernaturally good, but he knows the difference between a wandering footstep and a purposeful one...the problem in this crowd is just picking them out.

Courtesy of his first sip of brandy, he offers a wry smile to Kim's question. ] To be unnecessarily inebriated or intoxicated is to offer an advantage to a potential rival, and in the City of Spiders there are many potential rivals. We have traded intoxication through substance for debilitating paranoia.

[ He takes another sip. ] Not to say that we still do not partake in alcohol and other such goods - they see plenty of use both among the nobility and the common folk, and of course they are good for trade. But it is more important to be alert, and thus the practice has not spread as far as it might have with your own home.

With all the three thousand-year-olds that look like they're twenty, do you really think we're in a place that lets us debate on that?

(and that bothers shin to no end. he doesn't want to grow old, get wrinkly, get taller, lose the appearance that he has today - and yet, there are just so many people whose nature allows them to never age. it sparks a bit of green in the boy, and it shows in his frown.

and he was about to be defensive, say his hand is cramped from practice, when he notices the same struggle from a man who, much like shin, would easily look like he'd have no issues in it. he has to blink from watching the mirroed image of himself and his distaste in kim's own chopstick defeat.

no need to like to the black kettle, he decides.)

... No. I just look like this, you know... And you do, because you look exactly like me right now.

I wouldn't expect you to take my word for it in the first place, [ Kim says frankly. And it's true -- he wouldn't. He's just one person among many, whose true motivations remain unknown to the man sitting in front of him. What sort of person would simply trust Kim simply because he presents himself as trustworthy, for something like this? No, the best that he can hope for is that Sims will consider that Kim is correct.

And he certainly hopes he's correct. He can't profess to be a professional on the matter by any stretch of the imagination. It is simply that he has a feeling that this place is too big, too old to have been so deeply affected by the going-ons of another world. ]

What I would ask of you is to consider my hypothesis on the matter equally as probable as yours. But for the time being, the problem has been resolved.

[ Kim has a way of making people feel seen. It is some by-product of his age, his steadfast nature, his quiet manner, his gentle voice. Even if he does not understand what he's looking at, people assume that he does. ]

So for the time being... you have time to look into it. And to recover, to some extent. [ Whether what Sims says is strictly true or not, the mental stress he's under is not a lie. ] Eat. Get a good night's sleep. Get your sea legs back. That sort of thing.

[ Kim sighs. ] I would argue that it's just as important to stay alert where I am from. Perhaps without the same... intrigue and political ramifications unless you happen to be a particularly important person, but nevertheless.

[ Revachol is a dangerous city. Everyone knows it. People may not want to take advantage of you for reasons of political salience, but they'll certainly steal the shirt off your back, target you for being different, want to take out some aggression that's built up year after brutal year. Wryly, he says, ] I'm a bit envious. I wish it were less widespread in Revachol.

[ It is not illegal. But he has seen what it does to a person. ]

You could say the same about this place, couldn't you? With the sort of fights people pick, it's better to keep your wits about you. I remember some oni tried to pick a fight with me my first day here. [ For looking lost, he recalls. Like some stupid tourist. He resents that. ]

But I'm one to talk, considering we intend to take full advantage of that.

[ Kim is a cop, after all. He is not above abusing someone's state of inebriation for answers. ]

[ INTERFACING - As magnanimous an offer that is, you don't really trust your *bulky* fingers to give this the care it needs.
SUGGESTION - Also, he'd really like to do it himself. You know this about him. ]

Your trust in me is appreciated, but you can have the honor.

[ He quirks his mouth back with the chirp, by no means possessive of these kits. The final product won't matter to him as much as spending time with Kim. He plans to let his buddy have them for display, knowing they will be better cared for here than in his constant post-tornado destruction dwelling.

The first kit is a very large boat and that's the only way Harry can think to describe it. When he saw it his mind leapt to Joyce, her richer-than-thou jetty absolutely puny in comparison. In his minds eye there are a group of two dozen sailors setting out to sea, the harbor growing smaller and smaller as they venture into the blue yonder, working tirelessly on all their preparations even when they are in the middle of the ocean. Then, in the distance, they see it: the colorless thin smog that cuts off their world from the next. Together they kneel down and perform their Volta ritual. It's their only hope of coming out the other side with their minds intact. Even if not, they take comfort knowing the Crown will compensate their families handsomely for their service.

Harry finds the radio and turns it on before settling at the dining table, stretching out his back once seated. The little machine hums to life with the sound of soft lute music. ]

[ Kim is fully prepared to debate the matter - if Shin were one of those, he would have damn well said so, and besides, it doesn't stop him from treating Kamui like a fresh-faced twenty-five year old - but he's thoroughly distracted by some unexpected common ground. ]

I've gotten better with them, [ Kim says, more sheepish than he is defensive. He balances them between his fingers, not talking, just thinking. ] But it doesn't come naturally to me, no. Frankly, I wish everyone would just use forks and get on with it already.

[ But that's culturally insensitive. To himself. Which is very aggravating. ]

So... you're not one of the many here who were born and raised in Japan, I take it?

[Jon instinctively wants to argue that. He knows what he's familiar with, he knows what his experiences are and what this situation sounds like. They're similar enough that he was automatically on high alert arriving here.

But he'll look into it. He'll ask around on his own and figure this out. Kim can likely tell he's made the decision with the way Jon's jaw sets, not looking at him now. Focused entirely on the untouched liquor in his hand. And then laughs - a quiet, brittle thing on the verge of mania before he chokes it down. ]

I- Sorry. Sorry, no you're. Right. I just. I can't remember the last time I've been able to eat or sleep. What a novel concept.

If you say so.

[ The radio, already set to the frequency that Kim had it set to last - nothing too exciting; just some tame station that he'd had playing last night while he finished his crossword puzzles - fills what silence remained beyond the natural hum and buzz of the apartment building. Good thing, too. As Kim opens up the box, he seems to forget his manners entirely. In lieu of entertaining his guest who had kindly spent a great deal of money on this gift, he becomes quickly absorbed in the instruction manual, brows rising steadily as he flips through its many, many pages. This is a project that will take more than a single sitting. Even for projects at home, he tends to put aside at least an hour a week, pecking away at them over a course of months until he has a product to show for it.

He usually doesn't build ships, more interested in the automobile side of affairs, but he looks at the model with a familiar sort of fondness. This ship is far more beautiful than the ones he's used to, but even at his big age, he sometimes walks down the harbour in the morning and marvels at the massive machines, Paleriders heading into the city for some well-deserved rest, the rest of the crew taking over to haul the resources off the ship. The Harbour isn't what anyone would call pleasant, stinking of fish and burning coal, filled with rough-and-tumble workers discontent with their way of life, loud and busy and nothing like the tourist attractions further up the shore, but Kim has always loved watching them. When he had been transferred to the GRIH within his first few years of his career with the RCM, he had managed to shake off his disappointment at not being placed at somewhere more central to the city with the rationale that he would get to move to the Harbour where he could watch them as much as he liked. He understands them less than ground-dwelling machines, but they're spectacular nonetheless. He has always had more of an affinity with things than he ever has with people.

He realizes belatedly that he hasn't spoken for some time, and he jerks his head up with a small smile. ] This is really cool, [ he says earnestly. ] You have to tie your own rigging and everything. Thank you, Harry. This was very thoughtful of you.

[ He knows this was largely for his own benefit. If Harry just wanted to spend time with him, they could have easily done any number of things. ]

[ The man in front of him speaks of his home city with a strange sort of fondness, like he wishes it to be better, wishes it was not so damaged as it was. It is a feeling he had only lately been starting to rediscover before he came to this place, and he cannot say it is quite the same thing. ]

A drunkard is at least more salvageable than a corpse, or so it has been in my experience, but I understand the point you are making. [ There is a carefulness to his words, an awkward avoidance of his usual blunt and straightforward manner, as if he is making some sort of acknowledgement that this is a sensitive topic without actually saying that outright. ] There are many ways for the mind to fracture without dying.

[ And so often he has been involved in stitching them back together, somehow. ]

It is. [ He takes another sip from his glass. ] It would make me homesick, if I ever had a reason to miss home. Even the lights in this place are reminiscent of it. [ His tone is a bit drier, lighter.

He merely shrugs at that last bit. ] It is an easy way of getting information. All we need do is listen, and that is not harming anyone.

Edited 2022-09-21 12:25 (UTC)

... I've been living in Japan for a few years now, but a lot just... Doesn't stick.

(language, customs, wardrobe, expectations, all things that shin sees, but they don't stick. instead of truly absorbing it, it's much more like he mirrors his surroundings, and poorly at that. it's hard to be something when you have been shamed for not being it enough and not taught it through his life.)

... I'm European. I'm... Still learning. You're European too, aren't you? I wasn't sure, but your accent...?

[ It's... an oddly vulnerable thing, talking about this. He hasn't spoken about it with anyone since his arrival. Not really. This doesn't count as talking about it either, per se, but it's more than he's done before; in a country where everyone who looks like him was born and raised in a society much like this one, what will they know of looking the part but not knowing any of it? Of knowing everything, but never looking the part? He had always craved some proximity to whiteness, clung to the half of his genetic makeup that was the same as everyone else's, thinking that he would far prefer being somewhere where everyone looked like him.

Now he's here, and all he wants is to go back. Desperately. Odd that he's met the one kid here who seems like he may know a thing or two about that. ]

Ah, yes. Europe does not exist where I'm from. I'm from a city called Revachol -- but people here have told me that I have what they call a French accent, so I think it's as close an analogue as any. [ He pauses, unsure as to whether or not he ought to elaborate. Then he decides that it's okay to, just this once. ] I have Seolite heritage, which is why I look like... [ He gestures at his own face, his sloping Suresne nose the only clue that he's anything but. ] But I'm a Revacholiere, through and through. I know none of the culture. None of the language. I certainly wasn't ever taught how to use these.

[ He gestures with the chopsticks, held clumsily in his right hand. ]

It's annoying, isn't it?

"Kim"? [ he runs the name through his internal roster of familiar department names, finds it unfamiliar. ] You're not from the Enma. Which?

[ frankly, this man seems amicable enough (barton may have strange standards) that he might guess tamamo. ]

[ and at the follow invitation, he barks a laugh - sharp and sudden. his mouth widens into a grin again. ]

Hell yes. [ he's in no hurry - gave himself plenty of time to luxuriously, indulgently!, browse a game shop. besides, he always has his phone tucked away into a pocket in case of some emergency cropping up. ] You're on!

Therein lies the problem. A drunkard usually becomes a corpse.

[ Kim will say it bluntly, though he appreciates Kimmuriel's discretion. It is a personal subject, yes, but also a professional one. Most of the corpses he gets sent in to take a look at tell a familiar story, and though they haunt his dreams, he manages not to allow it to haunt his waking life too. Kimmuriel does him a kindness, though, treating them with less cruelty than he could, especially knowing Kimmuriel's unusual bluntness when it comes to his own - often horrific - past. ]

Though not always. Recovery is more than possible. As I hope it's possible for those here who have fallen victim to the newest drug on the streets. Though... do you know what harm it does yet? That's one area I was unable to find out more about, and I doubt anyone here would be forthcoming about it.

[ If Kim were able to read minds - which would be an unfortunate thing for him much of the time - he would be surprisingly flattered to hear anyone would think the likes of him would wind up in Tamamo. He would never cop to that pleasure, but few have ever described him as being approachable. It's not by choice; it is simply something inherent to him. ]

No, I'm not Enma. I'm from the Sutoku clan. [ He smiles a little, charmed by Barton's enthusiasm. ] And you can tell me what clan you belong to while we head out. I just need to pick up the board from my place and... hm, perhaps the park? That's always a good place for a match.

... C'est vrai. You do sound French to me.

(one wonder of being a swede is the intake of languages. the average one speaks three, four, and shin's no exception, albeit his language skills all go to swedish, english and japanese - everything else is poor conversational he's learned in school, which feels like such a lost past at this point.

but he gets kim like no one else could, as of the people he knows. while the other speaks, shin's eyes fall to the chopsticks that just feel wrong in his hands.)

... It is. I know how you feel, even if my experience is a little different.

(here are things he hasn't spoken about as openly before. a deep breath, and it goes.)

My mother killed herself after I was born in Sweden, and I don't know who my father is. I used to live with my stepfather and my stepbrother, but they aren't very fond of me, because of that situation. They're all Japanese, but because they barely spoke to me, they taught me practically nothing, so when I ran away to Japan, I didn't even know how to read it. It's complicated, and if you show you don't know something, you can get advantage taken of you, so I try my best to fit in... It's very difficult, though.

Well, I can't help you with one of those things. You'll be able to get some rest once you get situated in housing -- a perk of this place. Housing is free. You'll be able to sleep in a bed tonight.

[ People here seem to take it for granted, but Kim does not; not having to pay for rent on a monthly basis is one reason why he hasn't bothered moving out of the basic accommodations that were given to him upon his arrival. What does he need with anything more? He rarely stays in anyhow, and provided he has somewhere to sit, somewhere to eat, somewhere to work, he's content. It feels much as it did when he had just entered the world of adulthood for the first time, when it had been a luxury simply to have a space of his own. ]

But we can get you a square meal. They serve food here as well. [ And it's cheap too. ] Go on, get yourself something.

[ One less thing for Jon to worry about tonight. The poor man is overwhelmed enough as it is. ]

You want to play me at... the park? [ spoken somewhat incredulously, his tone laced with dry amusement. the suggestion brings to mind a bunch of geezers (precisely: stodgy nobles from lumopolis) playing rotating matches against one another in a courtyard. ... then again, they both are to play chess, after all. that's just a solid portion of the demographic.

but it's not a refusal. barton takes the suggestion to file into the cashier line to pay for his glorious new board game. the place isn't exactly swamped, and he's soon to be assisted. ]

Can't say I've been there too often. I'll meet you there at [ insert the suggestion of some precise time here, such that neither should have to rush. ].

[He takes the moment to cover his face with both hands. Breathe. Just breathe, focus on what's in front of him. A drink. An offer of a meal. Being told housing is free apparently? He can't remember the last time that was available to him. Everything from the last few hours catches up and overwhelms him if he thinks about it for longer than a few seconds.]

Thank you. I, um. [He moves his hands, sinking his fingertips into his skin for a moment to rub at his face before settling again.] I'm not really kidding about having not eaten... food for... a few years now. I'm not um. Sure what's all right to eat first after that long.

[ That gets a shrug. ] It is true enough. [ It's not like he hasn't seen it himself, both underground and on the surface. Alcoholism is an affliction that plagues all races, it seems. ]

Apart from making the imbiber less inhibited in general, it seems that it is also delicious. [ Vendors were just...grinding it into their food during the festival...which, ok.... ] Delicious enough to be addictive, I do not doubt, given the desperation to hoard more of it. If there are any other side-effects, I suppose we will see it whether we want to or not.

[ He'd certainly be interested in seeing them, just out of curiosity. People are going to make stupid decisions and continue to chase their own pleasures regardless, so why not get information out of them? ]

Likely there are those who would use it to surpass their own limitations in some way as well, [ he muses, more to himself than to Kim. ] Chasing a version of themselves they see as more superior or glamorous, far above the chaff of a mundane existence.

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Page 4 of 4

JULY CATCH-ALL

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cw suicide and parental neglect.

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