OPEN ➸ September Catchall

[worldbent]

Who ⬤ Matoba Seiji and you
What ⬤ Substories, monthly eye curse, etc. Closed starters in the comments.
When ⬤ Throughout September
Where ⬤ More or less everywhere
Content Warnings ⬤ Will add if needed



A. SUBSTORY 3: DRIFTER GRIFTER - I want that Spiderman Wastelander!!

[What a classic wild goosechase, huh? When Matoba's connections had told him of a certain individual that had been spotted around the city with information on the Iron Bear, he had set to finding this mystery youkai. But every time he gets to a location where the man was said to be, he finds nothing but other angry individuals looking for the same man.]

[Surely he can't be only a mirage...]

[Perhaps the Wastelander got you to pay for a meal or a new pair of shoes, only to leave you down on your luck.] I see... Don't you think this will be a good lesson for you? [Matoba offers you a cheerful smile after hearing your tale.] Never give up your side of the bargain before you get your information.

Shall I assist you in finding him, then?


B. CURSED EYES - The Me in the Mirror Limit first 5 tag-ins, please!
[ooc; If you are tagging in to this prompt, PLEASE READ THIS INFO/PERMISSIONS POST FIRST, thanks! If your character has spiritual awareness, they can tell the spirit in this prompt feels Real Bad.]
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[It's another busy day in Sutoku's shopping districts, with their modern buildings and flashy neon signs. It was easy to feel as though this was a normal shopping district in any human city, with the sort of glamor present.]

[As you pass by the reflective windows of a shop, you might have to do a double-take once or twice when the reflection that stares back at you is missing its right eye. You must have been seeing things- when you look back again, it's normal.]

[Maybe it takes you a few times to notice that your "reflection" moves on from your shadow and along the glass on its own after a while; it seems to be looking for something. But when you stop and try to look at it, you'll instead be interrupted by a voice that approaches you from behind, suddenly too-close to your ear--]

Excuse me. Are you looking for something?


C. SNACK RUN - Even menacing Lieutenants need a day off

[Matoba had earned quite a reputation over his months in Jigoku-cho for being "always on the clock"- it was, perhaps, a part of why he had managed to climb the ranks of the Alliance so quickly. Always dressed for success in either a suit or his clan's traditional kimono, it was perhaps hard to relate more personally to a man who seemed to carry himself as so apart from others in both appearance and speech.]

[But once in a while, you can catch even Matoba Seiji on an off-day.]

[In an adidas hoodie and a casual pair of joggers, Matoba has perched himself on the railing of a walkway overlooking the river at one of the bridge crossings. The Hashihime Clan may have to put up with a Lieutenant's presence now, but she doesn't look much happier about the crumbs from the flaky pastry he's eating, or the flecks of rice from that onigiri, as they fall onto her bridge and waters.]

[Like this, Matoba-san almost just looks like what he is- a bored 22 year old.]

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[ooc; as always feel free to hit me up via my CR meme post, PM or kitsoru for plotting!]

Comments

2/2

[swordhardy]

[ Sploosh.

Let your guard down around an exorcist and you'll regret it. Sure, he didn't get stabbed in the literal back, but he got shoved into a nasty-ass river filled with damned souls and the gross bottomfeeder youkai that like to swim amongst them. It's such a surprise that he even ends up swallowing some of it when he's beneath the surface. For the record? It tastes like shit.

It doesn't take long for the daemon to swim to the edge and pull himself out of the river, motions weighed down by waterlog. Like some unhinged creature from the deep, he takes a few heavy steps and then shakes off like a dog. When he stands fully upright he has to tear a weird fish youkai off of his cheek—it yanks off with a bloody pop, leaving a perfect toothy circle just below his eye.

And then he laughs, unhinged and furious, eye twitching so much that he gets more dripping water in his eye. ]

I got it, I got it. You have a deathwish. Alright.

[ He squeezes the fish youkai in his little claws. It screeches loudly and angrily, thrashing back and forth and snapping its teeth. He has half a mind to crush it to death in a fit of anger, but no. Little buddy, he's got another job for you.

He'd been jogging lazily before, keeping a normal pace for a relaxing morning, but now he's charging forth like a freight train along the pathway and through the crowd. He's gotta catch up to his prey; this little fox ain't gonna get away after that prank.

Thump thump thump thump thump.

Matoba better run, because Rokurou's fast. And he looks terrifying, red eye gleaming, clothes drenched, and hair a total mess. He lost his hairtie somewhere in the river so it's all just wilding out.

When he finally spies Matoba's back he just straight up yeets the weird youkai fish at him. It screams in the air, flying at the same rate as a baseball during a high-stakes game. ]

[worldbent]

[Wow......... how dare you call him a fox.]

[Matoba, while he may have a bit of a deathwish, isn't entirely stupid- he doesn't take a straightaway path through the city, and his ass is headed for eventual Sutoku territory, but he doesn't doubt that Rokurou could track his aura, either. Running from a mad ayakashi was a talent he had many years to perfect without getting killed, and this had been a calculated strike. Calculated in the 2 or so minutes since Rokurou had come across him while jogging, but still.]

[Besides, he doesn't think Rokurou would want to take him dead. Not yet.]

[He can feel and hear that stampede coming for him. It was too early in the morning for there to be much interference between the daemon and his prey- and when Matoba wheels around and claps his hands together to create a well of aura for himself, one of his poor, shadow-formed shiki springs up from the ground to take one for the team.]

CRACK [The shattering porcelain of its mask resounds in the empty city street as the fish hits it with lethal force before exploding into guts, immediately dispelling the poor servant with a brief, gawking stare (MASTER, WHY), and Matoba has the wild-eyed look of a cornered animal as he stares down Rokurou with a crackling seal in his hands.]

It's not fun without a hunt, right? [He's not going to win. He's too unprepared, he doesn't have circles drawn, he doesn't even have his bow.]

[But at least it will be worth it.]

[swordhardy]

[ Poor fat river fish youkai, we hardly knew ye. RIP 2022-2022.

The guts ricochet off of that poor servant and splatter across some poor unsuspecting merchant's storefront; it's early, so the place is still closed, but when he strolls up in an hour with a coffee in hand he'll find a thick spray of chunky red and blue guts all over the front window of his delicate cake bakery. He'll drop his cup of coffee in shock (RIP coffee 2022-2022) and fall to his knees in horror.

That's not their problem. Anyway.

Rokurou laughs and cracks his knuckles, murderous smile stretched across his mouth. ]

Really? Going to pull out tricks when you asked for this? That's unfair. [ but the threat of that seal isn't enough to stop him in his tracks; his roll has slowed, turning instead into a leisurely walk toward the exorcist, ] If you're prey you should run like prey. If you can get away from me I'll take the loss.

[ Another knuckle crack, and a mean glint shines in the center of his golden eye. ]

But if I catch you, I'm going to take you to the dirtiest bathroom in Shuten territory and flush your head in the toilet. That'll make us about even.

[ 'Cause you ain't gonna tell him that those fish youkai aren't shitting up Sanzu's waters ... which he accidentally drank. With his mouth. ]

[worldbent]

[When Matoba comes to that bakery the next day to get his sugar fix, he most certainly will have to simply nod along and half-sympathize with the poor owner's complaints that some hooligan youth must have meant to threaten him with fish guts on his window!! Won't the Alliance do something to protect their shop owners??]

[That's assuming Matoba will be able to walk in 24 hours.]

You expected an exorcist not to fight dirty? Really. I already told you I'm not the righteous sort. [Like reflections rippling in the surface of water, the words of the spell lift themselves from the slip and wrap around his right hand as if they were henna.]

[Rokurou is approaching him with that easy, confidant gait, but Matoba isn't going to underestimate the man's ability to head him off. Any swordsman worth his salt could close such a gap in an instant if they wished.]

[Mentally, he's mapping out the distance from here to the marketplace at the north, near the Kaigou-no-bou, where early morning commerce must already be starting up. More bodies, more distractions. More cops.]

If you're going to threaten me, at least make it something terrifying. [The spell in his hand rushes forth and tries to wrap itself around Rokurou with a crackling binding power. It's not going to work, it's too weak a spell for someone like him, but even if it can only buy him a second's distraction that's enough. Matoba's turning on heel the moment it's sent off and is beelining for his destination, knocking over trashcans and leaping taxis as he goes.]

[For a pampered, squishy spellcaster of a clanhead, he was at least nimble.]

[swordhardy]

Didn't you hear that we had an eating contest? If you knew what that toilet looked like you wouldn't be so cocky.

[ Power sizzles, the spell drawing his eyes. Though he isn't as strong as he normally is in this city he'd guess that Matoba isn't either—and the flush of warning across his skin isn't a particularly alarming one. A sense of incoming as opposed to danger. Even the smell of it tickles his nose, dusty like ashes after burning joss paper.

The man never goes anywhere without a knife. He draws it from his hip where it had been strapped flush, flicking the blade rapidly in a particular Rangetsu form to cut through the spell. Matoba gets the head start he'd been angling for, acting like the possum he is (downgraded from a fox, happy??) by throwing trash on the ground behind him and parkouring over cars.

Rokurou snorts, flicking the remainder of that spell off his blade. His senses aren't as sharp as they should be but he's long familiarized himself with Matoba's scent, having gleaned it well during their first encounter in the bar. Traces of that same ashy scent from the spell, thin tendrils of burnt incense, purified timber put to flame in a flush of cedar and sandalwood. Within that, the acrid linger of ink, and something else that makes his nose itch.

Extremely distinct in a city of youkai that smell nothing like an exorcist might.

The garbage and taxis are minor inconveniences. He could go another way, sure, but that's not in the spirit of the hunt. So, he follows the trail directly, brandishing his knife as he cuts through the morning crowds on Matoba's tail. Assassinations had been the Rangetsu's bread and butter; the footsteps from before hadn't been anything he tried to hide. Now, his footsteps may as well be estinto, the softest note possible in music ... which is basically no noise at all. He doesn't barrel through anything like the typical Shuten might—it's all very quiet, like the wind.

Where oh where would this little rat man want to go? Somewhere with people and distractions and obstacles. Maybe even Enma patrols.

A couple of kids on skateboards catch his eye. Flipping them a few coins, he gives them a job—and with a couple laughs, the kids skate ahead toward the marketplace. Matoba did say playing dirty was free game—if he tries to slip behind any merchants or squeeze away into a clandestine alleyway before Rokurou can get his paws on him, one of those kids is going to scream and call him a pervert.

And on the trail he continues. ]

[worldbent]

[The scent of an exorcist was unique and easy pickings in a city of ayakashi, which is why Matoba splits his aura. Shadows, milling about the marketplace, carrying Matoba's signature if not his flesh and blood. It was not a serious distraction, but it was intended to throw him off his guard, make him suspicious about an unknown factor and shake his surety.]

[As for Matoba............]

Hmmm... Strawberry-banana, [He hands over a few coins to a street vendor selling rolled crepes in the morning light, and feels the approach of a wet, stinky man and all of his attached malice.]

[(Matoba's got a stench on him, but phew, this guy's got a stench on him!)]

[Buying a few minutes of a head-start meant he could draw up spells on the fly. Or send his servants. Or get another bite of breakfast in. There's an Enma beatcop, also eating a crepe, tossing Matoba a dirty look as the human reaches over them to grab a few napkins. That is, until the big fishstink murderdaemon comes rolling in and steals their attention.]

Ah, good timing. Breakfast is almost ready. [Matoba feels his shadows drawing back towards the food cart. Their orders had been simple: "track him".]

[Neither man really thinks the other is just going to stand around and chat, right?]

[swordhardy]

Should’ve known you’d be stuffing your face.

[ Rokurou would be disgusted to hear they have so much in common, but their moves are annoyingly similar. He may not be intelligent in the academic sense, but the daemon is both vicious and clever. The kids has just been the start of it; while Matoba had drawn up spells and prepared servants, Rokurou had laid traps throughout the city in consideration of what kind of moves the exorcist may make. When you’re the underdog beneath an overpowered genius sibling you learn to be crafty.

Like … he hadn’t been above spreading the rumor that the conman vagabond that still hadn’t been caught (you know, that one garnering tons of angry chasers?) was wearing adidas, sporting an eyepatch over his right eye, and was seen wandering the marketplace just this morning looking for his next mark.

Will those angry clusters of ripped off youkai stop him? No, surely not. But they’re perfect fodder to slow him down. The kids call pervert and make a scene, the brainless merchants form an angry mob … these things usually fall like dominoes.

Rokurou’s smile doesn’t even fade when several youkai nearby scrunch their faces up at his fish stench. Or is it the malevolence? Monsters less powerful tend to find it too much. Either way, everyone eating from the morning breakfast carts shuffle away, finding the daemon too offensive on the nose.

He casually wrings out a mass of his thick hair like he hasn’t become the fish pariah of the morning market. Normally he’d go straight for the throat with a knife, but even he isn’t so brazen as to attack right under a cop’s nose.

He flashes sharp teeth to that beatcop and poor cart tender pinching his nose to block out the fishy smell, and laughs, ]

My wife is a troublemaker, he was flirting too hard and pushed me right into the river. [ he strolls closer, fully intending on grabbing Matoba by the waist if the exorcist doesn’t flee or have some trick to stop him, ] It’s alright though. “Chase” really gets him going.

[ Disgusting, but if Rokurou’s going to roll around in the mud, he’s dragging Matoba down with him. ]

[worldbent]

[Children could be silenced by shadows. That was simple enough. As long as they didn't come across the scary childnapper in the eyepatch, his long shadows had been free to snatch them up instead and carry them off, guilty as charged, to keep them nice and out of the way.]

[(They'll be fine; later, someone will find them stuck harmlessly into a dumpster somewhere, stinky but unhurt. A stinky end for stinky children recruited by a stinky man.)]

[As for the rumors of that Wastelander, it would be quite interesting if they turned out to be a human, wouldn't it? That's what Matoba thinks, as he dodges the swing of a punch on his way to crepes. A few angry punks looking for their money are easy enough to take care of with the painful sting of a spell, as annoying as it is to have a scene being caused at all, but that's why he picks out the sight of the Enma cop by the foodstalls, and takes a moment of safehaven there. For whatever little peace that meant for the moment...]

Oh? I've been promoted to wife. [Matoba licks the edge of his crepe, as if contemplating the implication, and rolls himself around the edge of the foodcart to the other side of it while the cop eyes Rokurou's approach reluctantly. He doesn't wanna have to touch the stinky hobo fish-daemon--] Is that a proposal? Sadly, I think I'm going to have to break your heart. You see, I already have a partner decided for me back home.

But, [He starts backing away. With the cart now between them, he has the chance to make another breakaway- either towards a circle of product stalls or into a busy traffic intersection.] I'm not going to deny I'm enjoying this.

[Stalls it is. With the same swiftness, Matoba darts behind the lumbering girth of a giant, hairy foot youkai and makes for-- a fruit cart. Huh, that looks familiar.]