jigokulogs | [ OPEN ] sunrise, sunset

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] sunrise, sunset

Who ⬤ Kim Kitsuragi & YOU
What ⬤ March substories (night parade & babysitting bad trips) & more!
When ⬤ Throughout March
Where ⬤ Throughout Jigoku-cho
Content Warnings ⬤ Drug use for the applicable substory, otherwise n/a

a. high definition.

[ When Kim notices people exiting the drug testing location looking decidedly worse for wear, his first instinct is to simply ignore them. They knew what they signed up for, did so willingly, and evidently did so without having the contingency of planning for a friend to accompany them and keep them safe afterwards. He stands off to the side for a frankly unconsciable amount of time, reasoning that some good samaritan will choose to be helpful. It doesn't have to be him. He's done enough of babysitting people on unadvisable drug trips for an entire lifetime, and he's not keen on repeating the experience.

Except it quickly becomes clear that nobody else is going to step in, even when he's given one or two passer-bys a hopeful glance. Whether it's the blindness, hallucinations, or general revelry that influences people to make terrible decisions, participants in the study are going to wind up being a danger to themselves or others, Kim decides, and reluctantly approaches one of them. ]

Khm. Excuse me. Are you all right?

[ He knows the answer to that question. It's no, because agreeing to be the guinea pig for unknown drugs as administered by some bizarre rabbit creatures is not something you do when you're all right, but he makes the executive decision to err on the side of politeness anyway. ]

b. night parade.

i. decorating.

[ Assisting with the parade seems like an easy way of currying favour with his superiors and to at least put on the pretense of helping out, so Kim gladly accepts the task of hanging up the decorations. He'll be around to help hold ladders, move boxes from point A to point B, or toss a bottle of water to one of his fellow assistants who looks as though they've failed to hydrate through any of their hard labour.

He does, however, become more invested in it than he specifically means to as he stands back, hands tucked neatly behind him, and scrutinizes one of the stalls' decorations, in a very interesting colour scheme. ]

No. I'm sorry, this needs to come down. These colours are... [ There is a polite way of putting this. ] ...very ugly.

ii. eyes needed.

[ Kim, having been deemed a very responsible looking man (probably because he's one of the older people here, he thinks with a sigh), has been tasked with sorting the fireworks and putting them in appropriate storage. Some need to be stored at certain temperatures to maintain the brilliance of their colours, and others need to be put under lock and key in a nearby storage unit because in the wrong hands, they have the capacity to do an awful lot of damage.

Which is fine. Kim is more than capable of handling this. Only he's supposed to be reading the criminally tiny fine print along the sides of the tubes. He holds them away from his face as far as possible in a desperate bid to translate it, but to no avail. He could rely on guesswork, but...

Reluctantly, he turns to one of his fellows, roped into helping with the parade as well. ] Can you make this out?

[ He's secretly hoping the answer is no, which is a possibility. It would be less embarrassing that way. ]
c. sutoku district & housing.

[ Otherwise, Kim can be found wandering around what he's been told is his new home, pausing occasionally to look at the huge, flashy arcades, the blindingly bright department stores, or perhaps dwelling a little too long on one of the vehicles parked along the side of the road. Shopping isn't the most exciting thing, perhaps, but Kim has plenty he needs to get with his first paycheck: groceries (largely frozen and canned foods, specialty-made for the consummate bachelor), a first-aid kit, cigarettes and toiletries, instant coffee, and a pitstop where he inspects a truly tragic looking pot of mint planted in ruinously dry soil.

By the end of the evening, he can be found on the balcony of the long line of depressing apartments that all of the newcomers have been put into, staring out at the night sky with a cigarette dangling from his fingers and a convenience store bag filled with premade food hanging off the crook of his elbow. He's willing to share, if interest is shown -- a cigarette for the adults, or a an extra onigiri for the kids. If he's going to eat a depressing late-night dinner standing out here, he may as well have some company. ]

d. wildcard.

[ want something else? I'd love to make a starter for you! just hit me up at my ooc comment here and we'll figure something out. ]

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It is. I did not think it would be possible. [ His mouth flattens into a straight line, chin bunching a little. There is a look in his eyes that says he does not think that he deserves it, but will cherish hearing the city's voice. ] Perhaps?

[ He feels his eyes roam around but fix back on Kim's face as soon as his fingers carefully grab his chin. The pupils are a little more dilated than is normal which makes every bit of his expression more cartoon-ish in nature. ]

There is a pain in my chest, but it has nothing to do with the drug. [ So he says, but he really he isn't certain. ] I am sorry that you have not yet been welcomed by the city, but at least you were welcomed by the youkai. The city will hopefully open itself to you soon, as well. [ He turns his head away. ] It's ... the smell of gunfire?

[ There is no such scent in the air, and he shakes his head in turn. ] We might have to run to make it there. [ There? Where there? You know -- there! ]

Okay, well. That's not good. We should keep an eye on that.

[ His pulse seems fine, but chest pains are alarming. Unless it's all metaphorical and he's just suffering from heartbreak, but Kim isn't going to ask directly for fear of having the man launch into why he's heartbroken. He habitually avoids emotional talks, especially with strangers, especially with drugged strangers. ]

Listen to me. There is no smell of gunfire. You're experiencing olfactory hallucinations.

[ Just to make sure, Kim breathes deep. He's greeted instead with the scent of the city, burning meat from street vendors, the unpleasant scent of a city's worth of cologne and perfumes and body odour, the faint smell of a sky about to break into rain. No gunpowder. No smoke. ]

We need to get you somewhere you can ride the rest of this out without running into traffic. All right?

You think so?

[ He rests his hand over his chest, patting the material over where his heart would be. It's a rotten thing, but he had a dream he traded it for something cleaner. ]

Am I? Could the gunfire be coming?

[ A hallucination of the future, perhaps? His head twists in the direction of where he thinks he smells the trouble. He stands still, like he isn't sure if he should break out in a run toward it. But he stops himself from doing so, and really listens to what is being said to him. ]

You don't believe me? Well, I guess I wouldn't believe me, either... perhaps, it really isn't anything, then? A city that accepts so easily wouldn't be one that you can trust, hm?

Gunfire could always be coming. But I don't think it's likely to come right now, no.

[ Kim, on the other hand, is poised to move. If the man makes a break for it, poorly considered or not, he'll run after him. He feels something of an obligation now, and he wouldn't like hearing about a lost soul dying after sprinting into the wrong place in a drunken stupor. ]

I take that you mean the city is literally talking to you. I believe that may be the drugs as well. But I'm sure it welcomes you nonetheless, [ Kim says, giving him a reassuring sort of pat on the shoulder. ] Could I get your name? And where your housing is? I think it might be for the best that you try to ride this out at home.

No.

[ It's difficult to say if he believes or agreeing with Kim. But he does offer a small nod; he doesn't notice that his companion looks ready to chase him should he shoot off in a run. ]

Really? [ The moment of worry fades at the pat on the shoulder; it's brief and the words are short, but he is willing to accept them. In his "heightened" state, he is willing to grip onto all sorts of truths. ] Good, good. That's good. If you see it, then perhaps --

[ Huh? ] Artemy Burakh. Surgeon. My housing? It's in the Sutoku Alliance. My new Kin. Perhaps, yes, that's right. [ His words become a little more disjointed and he looks equally confused about it. ] Home, yes. You also see it as home? Perhaps? It is our home now because they've welcomed us.

Oh, good.

[ He wasn't expecting the man - Artemy; it's a name that's more familiar to wrap his mouth around than most he's encountered here - to so freely agree with him, but Kim's grateful for it. He's also grateful he won't have to be seen hauling a stranger around what may well be enemy territory. He's not sure how it all works yet, but he's pretty sure that that sort of thing could be incriminating in ways that he doesn't want to entertain. ]

It's nice to meet you, Mr. Burakh. My name is Kim Kitsuragi. And it so happens that I live in the same area as you. Not home, but a home. [ He offers Artemy a tight-lipped, reassuring smile. ] I bought a mint plant for it and everything.

And you're right. It is a good welcome to at least have a roof over our head and food on the table. [ At least Kim vastly prefers someone on drugs in a good mood than a bad one. He touches his fingers lightly to Artemy's back, guiding him forward. ] Come on. Let's go.

The city tells me ... there is still time.

[ Unlike the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the city tells him that things will be waiting. He can pick up what its telling him. Back home, there was no telling what calling would wait for him and which would not. There was no telling anything, and so he could only hope that he would not be too late.

But the city is kinder, somehow. It tells him that he does not need to rush, and can take his time. Everything will wait until it can't. But when that 'can't' time comes; he has wasted all opportunities. ]

It is good to meet you, Mr. Kitsuragi. We are brothers now. [ It is something that he has been saying to all the Sutoku, but in his drug addled mind, he is more adamant about this point. Friendly, yes; willing to listen, yes; but he is his own bull. ] We are as kin.

We drank and ate together. We accepted our bonds. [ He nods as he listens to the home that Kim has made for himself; his hands trying to rest on the man's shoulders. A sharp nod as he listens adamantly to what his brother is saying. ]

Let's go. You'll be the first I welcome. [ He pats his shoulder and shuffles along. ]

[ Kim almost corrects Artemy. They are not kin, and certainly not brothers. The only brothers Kim has are in the RCM, and even that only makes sense due to the frankly alarming volume of fratricide he's seen. If Artemy were sober, he would correct him.

As is, he decides to allow the man to labour underneath that kind delusion. It's odd, the fixation he has on the notion of acceptance and togetherness, whether it's from the city, its denizens or his fellow lost souls. He hopes that he's half as friendly when he's sober, otherwise he might have a problem on his hands, though not an enormous one; as soon as he's sober, Kim can simply walk away. ] We have at least found ourselves in the same situation, [ he settles on saying. It's more common ground than he had with most people back home anyway -- or more common ground than people perceived that he had with them.

Hoping that Artemy's sense of direction hasn't been as muddled as the rest of his brain, he nods and follows behind him, choosing to trust him for now.

Wryly, he remarks, ] The first of many, I'm sure.

Yes.

[ He drunkenly nods as he heads the not-so-but-still familiar way home. Artemy thinks that he will welcome people into his home for clinical care; it will be a start of looking after those in Sutoku area. ]

I hope they will be willing to come in. But if not, they are still our brothers, our sisters, our kin... we need only go to them if they can't. [ It is why he could never agree to be part of a hospital. He remembers his Kin being distrustful of such places; he thinks there might be some like that in this place, too.

So, he will go to them and hope to treat those that are too frightened, too wary, too uncertain. ]

Oh, is that what you are telling me? To not forget? I wouldn't. [ Artemy addresses the air around them as he walks to hug a trashcan. He pats the steel as he thanks the city for reminding him of what he is -- a healer. ]

We're almost there. [ He turns slightly to address Kim this time as he reluctantly lets go of the trashcan. ] Do we live close to each other, brother?

[ Kim watches as Artemy goes out of the way to embrace a trash can, which is obviously solely because of his incredibly potent drug trip, but he finds himself oddly charmed nonetheless. He's certain that that's the most kindness that poor trash can will experience in its sorry life. ]

Call me Kim. Or Kitsuragi. It's up to you which one. And yes, we do live in the same area -- I believe many of us Sutoku live in the same complex.

[ Some do, some don't, Kim thinks. The spread seems largely random, which he's fine with. He doesn't particularly relish everyone knowing where he lives, but there's no reason to lie either. It's an easy enough lie to catch him out on. ]

Do try to remember that some people want to be left alone. [ Like Kim does, most of the time. ] It's only right to respect that, unless you feel that their well-being is in question. Even if you do live close to them.

I see.

[ He should attempt to say hello to his neighbors some time, then. There are some items that he has that he thinks would be good to give, if they're feeling like it. ]

Artemy. [ Wait, didn't he already introduce himself? He furrows his brows as he is certain that he did. But they are exchanging names, again. ] Yes, there are people that would want to be left by themselves. I know. [ He breathes out a long sigh, as he stumbles up along to head to his room. ]

I shall only make a nuisance of myself to the sick. They always love that about me. [ It is a dry joke as he comes to the door. He stares at it before digging through his pockets. ] Everything to be locked. Trust is a fragile thing that can be broken at any time.

[ A pause as he takes out a spool of thread and hands it to Kim. ] For you. It holds some of my warmth. [ A reasonable trade for the man trying to watch over him as he wanders about in an addled state. Does he fully understand that is what is happening? No, but eh! ]

...I see. Thank you. [ Kim graciously accepts the spool of thread and slips it in his pocket. He's not sure what synapses are firing to make Artemy believe in the symbolism he's rambling about now, but he has to admit that while the symbolic nature of the gift is wholly lost on him, the useful nature of it is not; he did actually pick up a small, inexpensive mending kit, and it came with only as much thread as they could fit around a small scrap of cardboard. An entire spool is a luxurious thing in comparison.

He taps his foot as he waits for Artemy to open the door, quietly hoping that they won't have to simply break in. Or that this isn't his home at all. God, he doesn't relish the idea of explaining to some righteously cantankerous lost soul that Artemy means no harm; he is just simply very, very addled in the head. ]

What do the sick have to do with anything? [ He asks instead. ] Despite everything, everyone here seems to be in good health.

Edited 2022-04-04 01:23 (UTC)

They have to do with everything.

[ The keys fumble in his hands before he finally opens the door. How lucky; it is his home! He's looks equally surprised at this discovery, but soon walks in. The space is barren, but well, that's the same for everyone.

Only a bed shoved against the side of the wall and little else in the way of furniture or decoration. Still, he breathes out a sigh of relief. ] I thought I was breaking into someone's house. [ Probably not the best thing to admit, but right, what was asked. ]

Good health is something we can't take for granted. It's why it should always be looked over... I wouldn't want them to be lost without anyone to look after them.

O-kay...

[ He can't really argue about that. He's lucky that his physical health has largely remained intact. To say anything else would be ungrateful, and cruel to the infirm, though the only infirm he sees right now is in front of him. The space looks about as unfriendly as Kim's own, even if Kim had taken pains to buy a few more necessities than most others here, but that comes as little surprise. What more can they afford but to live frugally? He steps inside, quietly closing the door behind them. ]

But have you actually met any sick people to worry after here? And why would that be your job? Unless...

[ God, he hopes that a doctor wouldn't be so stupid as to take experimental drugs from demon bunnies. ]

You work in the medical industry?

Not yet.

[ But they may come. He worries so much that they may come; he wants to do what he can to ensure that they'll be all right. Even in Hell. What a funny thought, but he does not want to leave the youkai without someone to look after them.

Artemy pauses in his thoughts to look over his shoulder. He shifts and turns; the whole room spins with him. He pauses. His eyes dart all over in a panic before everything settles down.

He clears his throat: ]

Artemy Burakh. Surgeon. I know how to read the lines. The lines are all over. [ As soon as he says that, he crouches down on the floor; his hands run along the ground. ] They really are all over. I can read you, too. I know where you connect.

I... see.

[ Even through Artemy's drugged ramblings, Kim is starting to make sense of him -- the sort of things that matter to him, the way that he sees the world. Drugs and alcohol can do a great deal to change a person, but in Kim's experience, they tend not to fixate on things that they don't already spend a lot of time thinking about sober. That can be past relationships, fraught relationships with the fairer sex, philosophy and pain, or if you knew Kim during his younger days, embarrassingly strong feelings about the legitimacy of science-fiction engineering after an evening of weed cigarettes.

For Artemy, it's this: his patients, the city, and what connects them. It's all a bit metaphysical in nature, he thinks. Harry would probably be able to follow his line of thinking without even having to struggle. ]

Where I connect? [ Kim doubts that. He does not, as a general rule, connect. ] And where would that be, Dr. Burakh?

Yes.

[ Artemy nods. He brings his fist to tap it a few times against his own chest. ]

There are many ways that we connect. But I believe that you connect here. [ Again, he pats his chest to make it a little more clear what he's talking about, which is ramblings, but he's trying. ] Your heart is still a good one, brother. It will reach out to others and bind them to you. I believe this to be true.

[ The way that Kim connects is through the heart. ] In those connections, in those Lines, we will see where your health is. [ Artemy takes a few heavy steps forward; he leans in to look carefully at his face. He squints -- ] I can't see them when I do this.

[ Obviously.

And he opens his eyes: ] That's better.

[ A hum. ] Your health is worn. You will need to rest. The Lines are stretched and need time to straighten themselves out yet. It will be all right, brother. It will come along. [ And he pats his shoulder for good measure. ]

[ Kim is careful to stand very, very still as Artemy leans towards him to scrutinize him, uncomfortable but unwilling to voice as much. Artemy's words are kind and, honestly, it's a little depressing to realize that they're the most encouraging words he's received in a while, and they're from a stranger in Hell currently on one hell of a drug trip. ]

Khm. [ Connections to others isn't what he'd call his strong point, exactly. ] Are you certain you're not just looking at the bags underneath my eyes? I could have told you that much. Nobody ever gets enough sleep.

[ He nods at him with a quirk of the lip. ]

But speaking of rest, I think it's high time you get some. Why not lie down, try to sleep the rest of this off?

Sleep is difficult. We're all carrying the Lines and all the burdens that were given and not given to us.

[ He nods along, finding what Kim said to be profound rather than dismissive. Wobbling side-to-side, he catches himself before falling. ]

It'll be for the best. Yes, the city has grown quiet. It's said all that it has need to say. [ Stumbling over to a wall, he lightly pats the wall. It's a way to thank the city for talking to him at all. He is grateful for the conversation and for meeting his brother; their paths crossed and there is meaning in that, yes. ]

You can die if you don't let yourself rest. [ He stumbles back to Kim. ] So, I'll take some burdens and let the bags on your eyes go. [ Holding his hand out, he acts like he is grabbing something and -- knees go out, he is kneeling on the ground then tips over.

Zzzz. ]

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[ OPEN ] sunrise, sunset

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