Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Savo
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Savo Time to go to Hell

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Marc Kurosawa

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Southern District - ???

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As he shuffled down the sidewalks, the boy could only pout and furrow his brows as he shifted his head at irregular variables, golden eyes gleaming for a split second before losing their luster. He could only silently mouth out boring to himself in the most exaggerated way possible before going back to fidgeting with his phone.

"Alleyway Ogre... The Steel Girder Lady... Yurei Inu..." He began murmuring as he scrolled through past Urban Legends he investigated. One was a lanky homeless man with thick clothing, the other was a LARPer who looked like Guts if he was a poorly made Gundam, and the latter was a Shiba Inu that got into flour before getting lost.

Honestly, sitting on the curb and going over these stories seemed like a better alternative at this point as he caught something out of the corner of his eye. This gave him a bit of pause since the fellow in a car was in a poorly made disguise.

And by that, it was just a cough mask and some tasteless dark shades.

This was probably the best thing he could take note of when coming here today, other than those two supposed gangbangers who were drinking and frantically doing Sudoku like their life depended on it. Though, before he was going to look away, there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that forced him to do a double take.

Blinking, he quickly scrolled through, finding the topic labeled Yakuza: Tortured Souls and began scrolling through the topic before stopping upon seeing the name Kang Daehyon and some of the pictures posted before some of the members were told to knock it off by mods.

Regardless, the pics matched the profile - bold eyebrows, combed auburn hair. Couldn't see the dudes eyes because of the gaudy shades, but it made Marc muse for a sec. If this really was this Kang Daehyon dude, what was his business here? Was he filming for a movie? Was he about to be ran off by one of his friggin' secretaries?

Stopping time was a tempting thought, till he noticed one small detail outside of the guy being incognito - there was naught a soul in sight that looked to be recording this. A small, catlike grin formed as he began slinking not to far behind the guy, pretending to text someone on his phone.

Marc didn't have to wait for long as the two briefly chattered before disappearing into the building, leaving an opportune chance for the boy to make a mad dash for the closing door. Thankfully, it was more than enough time as the blonde slid his foot between the frame and the door, preventing it from shutting.

As it bounced on his foot, he slowly let the door shut, slowly and gently dragging his foot out before leaving it just a little open by the hair of his toe cap. He could feel the cool air escape the room as he leaned in, looking to listen for any sorts of information that could be deemed interesting.
Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by ERode
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ERode Odd One Out

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Northwestern District
“The cops,” Kouta echoed, tapping his feet against the linoleum floor. He grimaced, furrowed his brow, and let out a sigh. Shook his head, slowly. “You know how it is, Mana. Maybe if we were rich or something but…school girls go missing and no one bats an eye.”

Most of the time it was nothing. A shelter, a government program, family outside of Tenoroshi, or simply wanting a new life. But there were always cracks, and it was always hard to confirm. He jammed his own hands into his pockets, feeling the silent phone pressed against his thigh. There was a furtive glance towards the manager of the convenience store, before Kouta shook his head again.

“Checked all the places I thought she’d be,” Kouta waved helplessly, “And that’s including her parents’ home. But they didn’t know either. They didn’t care either.” Frustration leaked into his tone, the muscles in his shoulder tensing up again, collarbone sticking out against taut flesh. “Just...was hoping that she might have said something to you, or, I don’t know, god.”

But it was clear that Hanami hadn’t met Mana at all, not in recent memory.

He breathed out deep, stepping back. “But thanks. It means a lot to me, Mana. You have my number, yeah?”
Central District
“Ah,” came a calm voice, “Apologies for the inconvenience, Sou-san. We’ve received a report about the sixth floor a couple minutes back, and decided to lockdown all other floors as a precaution. Don’t worry, the keypad isn’t broken.”

There was a break, as muffled voices sounded in the background, a hand obviously placed over the receiver. Even through it, however, the (former) idol could faintly make out words such as ‘fire’ and ‘break in’ or, at least, what sounded like such words. Soon enough, the man behind the phone continued to speak.

“We’re investigating the report right now, but if you have somewhere you need to be immediately, I can arrange for an escort to bring you down to the ground level. Would you like that, Sou-san?”
Southern District
“Mmm, gotta stay flexible, neh? Go with the f-”

Yasuo blinked as a familiar, nameless face approached out of the blue, his cheeks already flushed from the alcohol, his eyes a bit woozy. Tilting his head to the side, he tried for another three sick af pen spins, but ended up fumbling and dropping the pen instead. He pitched forward, picked it up, marked off another number in his own puzzle book and, after shooting a glance towards Marina, smiled towards Tsurushi.

“Minami,” he said, offering a handshake, “Minami Yasuo. You live round here, taser lady?”

He looked again at Marina, as if willing her to chill. “Ah, and don’t mind my friend too much. She’s just surly in the mornings.”


Swift like a shadow, the blond urban explorer rushed towards the door, securing it with nothing more than the momentary pain of a heavy door falling against his foot. From there, what Marc heard from the Whispers Through The Gaps were...

"Everything looking good?"
"Hell naw, everyone else is still running around headless."
"Hey, c'mon, didn't I always tell you? You'd be so much better if you just got your shit together."
"But my shit ain't together, so ey, I'll just stick around here doing what I do."
"My offer's still available, Nori."

"And like always, thanks, but, y'know. I separate fun from work."
"Ever thought of trying to be a Virtual Youtuber?"
"Uwah, how the heck didja stumble upon that?"
"New girl in the agency's got her start from there. Not gonna name names, but..."
"Wow, absolutely awful."

"Think of the ad revenue though!"
"C'mon Daehyun, I ain't about that shit."
"I know, I know...but I still am."
"Really? Thought you were more of the beer and peace sorta person."
"Well, those come hand to hand."
"Sure sure, just rich boi hijinks, eh? Anyways, 'bout that thing you wanted..."
"Oh, let's see i-"

Click.

A door closed shut within the building, and the rest of the conversation was silenced behind soundproof walls, leaning Marc alone in the back of the building once more, feeling oddly vulnerable, simply laying his head against the door without leaving or entering. It was quite a bit nervewracking, being so exposed. If someone of any repute walked by and saw this, what exactly would they make of it?

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by banjoanjo
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banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

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SOU MIYANE - Central District: Tamakagahara

Miyane had good ears. It was part of the job, part of the training.

Torso upright. Breathe before the sixth bar. Put more chest into that ad-lib.

She needed her ears for that. They worked her to be aware, drove perfectionism into her like a stake. Her mistakes were her own. It was her responsibility to correct them, no one else’s.

She wished these dipshits could think the same way.

The background muttering of ‘fire’ and ‘break-in’ raised an eyebrow, along with a strong curse that she barely managed to hold behind her teeth.

“Yes, I’ll take the escort.”

The Okinawan from the gate arrived within a few long minutes, accompanied by three other guards. Seemed like some consideration was being given at least. They weren’t completely braindead.

The elevator wasn’t an option. They took the stairs. The men were… calm. Strangely so. Not that Miyane wanted a major emergency taking place in her place of residence but if she found out that she was being hurried out for something inconsequential then this security detail was in for a bad time.

She didn’t find out about anything.

“We’re still investigating, this is just a precaution for now.”

A taxi was offered. She declined. A squawk on the radio sounded through between ground and first floor. They took the emergency exit.

She found herself outside, the scene as innocuous as her exit. No sirens, no squadrons.

Nothing to do on this nothing day.

It was only a matter of time before it would inevitably kick in. Solitude only became unmanageable when she was surrounded by other people. The cafe didn't seem so appealing anymore. Neither did karaoke.

"You'll be notified once we're certain nothing serious has occurred."

Comforting. So what now? She didn’t particularly feel like interacting with Hyejin after the debacle in the plaza. Miori hadn’t been an option for a long time.

Miyane sighed and placed her phone to her ear.

“<<Daehyun-ah, you busy?>>”
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by AdmrlStalfos19
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AdmrlStalfos19 Undead. Not Updated

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Interactions: Minami Yasuo (@ERode), Kubo Marina (@OwO)



"Well, that was the idea..." Tsurushi shyly trailed off, wondering if this was a bad time to approach the man.

...

However, according to him, that was just the way this specific woman was. Whether the alcohol was causing the problem or whether it was supposed to keep her calm, Tsurushi didn't know... and it wasn't her place to ask anyway.

Sure enough, the man, who'd introduced himself as Minami Yasuo, had asked whether Tsurushi lived around here, referring to her as "taser-lady". Well, it was fair given that Yasuo had nothing to go on in terms of a name, but it made Tsurushi feel uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Please don't call me that," Tsurushi shook her head as she said this "My name is Ishiyama Tsurushi. And no, I normally live up in the North, actually. But I heard the shrink here's really good so... yeah, that's the whole reason I've come all the way down. I've got an appointment with her in about an hour. I just hope it helps-..."

She paused mid-sentence, her thoughts trailing off towards Tamiko. Was this really the best thing to do for the girl? Tsurushi didn't know. All she knew was that she had an obligation to do something, even if she had to do multiple do-overs.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by OwO
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OwO what's this?

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Was Marina too aggressive and surly? Probably. She also just hated dealing with people, half because she had very little patience and the other half because she was just a rude person. She was always like this, even through middle school. Yasuo was the face of their friendship and Marina was the muscle. With Yasuo trying to signal Marina to chill, Marina could at least humour him. She shrugged, signifying that she wouldn't try to start shit or try to be rude to whoever this woman was. That didn't mean that she would talk to her, though. What Yasuo got wrong was that she wasn't surly in the mornings; she was surly all the dang time.

The woman who called herself Ishiyama Tsurushi was here to find a good shrink. Explained why she was so nosey. She should be working on that, Marina thought. She kept her thoughts to herself, though. Yasuo didn't want her to start any shit, so she didn't. Which was boring. Starting shit would have been fun, even if what she was doing before was critically important. For the time being, she would just continue to pass time with Yasuo. Her mission, if you could call it that, was fairly important to her. It'd probably be a bad idea to mess it all up because a nosy chump ruined the atmosphere.
Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Savo
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Savo Time to go to Hell

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Marc Kurosawa

Location
Southern District - Galaxy

Interacting With
N/A



So outside of this all, there wasn't anything really interesting to note of as he kept his stance, letting their words seep through the door. Marc spent most of his time frowning as the duo spoke about trifling topics, until they got to the end. His eyes widened as he devilishly smirked at the prospect, leaning in ever so closer before hearing a click.

As the voices did, the blonde's smirk vanished in an instant the moment he heard a door close. Once more, he was alone in the open, contemplating as curious eyes flitted around like the flies in this alleyway, not before noticing a red flicker out of the corner of his eye.

Moving his hands in further, he gripped the door and threw it completely open in an over-the-top, almost comical fashion as his arm soared past him before tumbling back and bumping into the building. Said arm jittered for a second, trying to regain some sense of balance as the door began to creak shut.

As soon as that sound reached his ears, he slipped in without hesitation and began navigating the drab brick and mortar hallway, taking careful consideration as to the numerous amount of stage equipment that occupied the hallway, as well as some boxes that were splayed about.

Despite the congestion, he navigated the area with a sense of ease and familiarity as he looked at each and every door he passed by. There was a certain morbid curiosity as he felt his own heart beat, pumping twice as fast as before as the sound pounded into his ears.

Of course, that could also just be the stagehands, but he remained keenly aware through the taps of their footsteps and the frantic talking that echoed through the area, even keeping an eye on the doors to duck into in case anyone decided to walk back here to grab some equipment for whatever show they were meaning to set up.

Speaking of doors, which one did Daehyun go through?



Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by ERode
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Northwestern District
Mana didn’t say anything more, and Kouta let out a pained smile at her silence. The conversation was over, wasn’t it? He nodded slightly towards the overworked manager, before pocketing his pack of gum.

“Keep it touch, alright?” he repeated once more, to the lethargic convenience store part-timer’s silence again, and then turned around, exiting.

Filtered through the glass doors and lit in the gray morning, the delinquent really did look so much less vibrant than he used to, back in the days where Mana and him were both young and unburdened.

Central District
Outside, it was cloudy but quiet, the sky looming close but promising no rain. There was only a gloomy dampness in the air, a chill brought by a silent wind. As the Okinawan held the door for Miyane, he signalled the others to continue with their own tasks, being the only one to stay behind. Ostensibly, he would remain with the former star, at least until she found it fit to head out of the grounds of Tamagakahara, positioning himself beside the emergency exit.

Miyane’s call was answered after five long rings, the smooth, dulcet voice of Daehyun answering, “<<Morning, Miyane-ssi. Slept well?>>”

In the background, the strumming of guitar strings and the tip-tapping of drumsticks could be heard, as conversation in Japanese, incomprehensible but certainly not inaudible, show back and forth, interspersed by raucous laughter.

Southern District
“Ishiyama Tsurushi, mm?” Yasuo repeated, leaning forward to mark down another couple of numbers in his own sudoku book. “Pretty crazy you’d walk so far down, considering how the psychologists with the actually-rich clients would all be Central, but hey, no judgment.”

He shrugged, smiled, then frowned when it looked like his pen had dried up. Slipping it into his pocket, the handkerchief boy stretched his right hand out, cracking each finger back in a way that was satisfying but also sorta cringe-inducing.

“It’ll probs help,” Yasuo said, after another moment. “Hitsu’s pretty good at her job, after all. Used to be like, super big in the field ‘fore stuff happened and she set up her own practice. And hey, considering her usual clientele…”

The youth trailed off from there, before winking.

“It’ll be fine.”




Was that how he was positioned? One could never be sure, in the end, but neither did it really matter. The inconsistency between how his incorporeal body was positioned and how his corporeal body was positioned was fixed with a quick jerk of movements, wholly awkward but not massively obvious. Marc hadn’t knocked anything over while his body spasmed, after all, and soon enough, he was free to move once more, the sounds of the once-silent live house now resounding brightly through the backstage.

The stage area, far off, was a mecca of noise as people shouted over each other, each handling more tasks than they had hands and feet for. In the rooms reserved for the few bands that had arrived, the tuning of instruments and the vocal exercises of singers all mixing together in a quagmire of noise. Had it always been so loud, or had it just been numbed back when Marc was eavesdropping through the door?

Before he could go through the complex set of maneuvers required to move through all the stage equipment in the back, however, one of the part-timers at Galaxy popped up, a tall woman with short, silver hair and gray eyes. Pale, whether through lack of sleep or natural complexion, she wore a black t-shirt with the Galaxy logo printed upon it, and carried two boxes of miscellaneous junk.

“Oi!” she called out, spotting Marc almost immediately, “Who you with?”

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Asuras
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Asuras Into her woven halls, her children cover the walls

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What else could she have suggested? Mana knew of no other suggestions, but that very fact kept pounding at her head. She was lost in the situation, feeling all too useless for the young man. Perhaps it was his pallid appearance, reminiscent of what she saw in herself every morning, that tugged so tightly at the strings to her heart.

"Keep in touch, alright?"

"Ah," Mana mumbled, lifting a hand as if to pause Kouta. She did have his number, but got too lost in thought to answer him. It seemed he himself was done with the running about. She wasn't much of a help, clearly. Nevertheless, Mana resolved to try. It was the least she could do to try and bring a boisterous smile back to Kouta's life. He, at the very least, could always get such a thing back unlike some others. Mana drearily returned to her post, continuing on with the shift until labor laws released her from the full grasp of menial work. She folded up her apron, paid for a discounted lunch, and set off down the street to enjoy her break.

For a time, the incident the prior day seemed to fade to the back of her mind passively, though of course being replaced with an unfortunate missing person's case didn't help to draw stress away from Mana anyways. As she strolled through town, always frustrated that she wasn't 'supposed to' on the go outside like Westerners could. She was somewhat tempted to go to the same rooftop foodcourt as yesterday, if only out of a curiosity that the heterochromatic girl would be standing there again, but thought better of the whimsy. If she were there, Mana would have to sprint again.

Eventually she found a different food court, settled in a dusty subway of Tenoroshi. Outside rush hour, the comings and goings of pencil-pushers was settled, but no less constant. Mana sat down at an old metal table, barely big enough to hold two meals, and thought on who would be best to contact first. A brief consideration sprung to mind, as Suzume's dark red hair manifested in her eyes. Mana chuckled to herself. It would be extremely rude to assume the daughter of a yakuza knew all about kidnapping's. She'd get punched for sure.

As Mana continued chewing on her randomly-chosen pre-made meal, she fell deeper into a sense of uselessness. What the hell could she possibly do? Making a promise to Kouta then only felt like empty words, but she couldn't just call Kouta and tell him she was sorry for even offering. But... she also couldn't just wander around doing nothing productive, all in the name of 'trying'.

Mana let out an audible growl to herself, uncaring of any stares she might receive. She dug into the food faster out of frustration with herself.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by banjoanjo
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banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

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SOU MIYANE - Central District: Takamagahara
Collab with @Erode

“<<Morning, Miyane-ssi. Slept well?>>”

She'd stopped finding his greasy pretension endearing a long time ago.

"<<It was shit.>>" She spoke simply. "<<Building got locked down.>>"

There was a bark of laughter on the other end. "<<Unflappable as ever, huh? Anything explode?>>"

"<<No, it was just some... some idiot on the floor above pounding away at something.>>"

Miyane sighed.

"<<Like when you lived with Chanhyuk, and the bastard never put the soundproofing in his practice room like he said he would.>>"

"<<Not so spotless after all, hm? Was beginning to think Ohta was a robot.>>"

A creeping satisfaction tilted the corner of her lips upwards.

"<<Hey, you could still learn a thing or two from him.>>"

"<<Father Crime doesn't mesh with cardboard landlord, I'd say.>>"

Miyane giggled. "<<What are you doing now?>>"

"<<Hanging with a friend. Shoot got cancelled today due to some electronic shit.>>"

What was with all the electronics going haywire recently? "<<Do I know them?>>"

"<<Wanna find out?>>"

"<<Sure. Need to kill time before Miori comes over.>>" She glanced at the Okinawan. "<<Though we'll likely have to find a restaurant somewhere.>>"

The Okinawan guard noticed her glance and smiled back.

"<<Mm, just head on over here. I know a place that does good delivery.>>" The smirk could practically be heard in Daehyun's voice. "<<Even if they have terrible naming sense.>>"

"<<Why, what is it?>>"

"<<Peaceful Lung Fat.>>"

"<<Jesus.>>"

"<<Chinese ex-pats,>>" Daehyun said, by way of explanation. "<<Their Sichuan chicken's something else though.>>"

"<<Mm.>>" Daehyun always liked the weird ones. "<<Okay, I'll tell Miori. Send me where you are now.>>"

His friend was going to do a stage at that big live house, Galaxy. Not her kind of scene, too heavy. The types that performed there - all underground and metal - didn't hold much regard for idols, and Miyane had no obligation to sway people who refused to acknowledge how much of herself she gave to the industry, prim and plastic as it was. The surrounding neighbourhood wasn't much to draw her in either.

Miyane frowned. Daehyun always liked the weird ones.

Whatever. If she was going to have to deal with civilians there...

She felt the unimpressed stare click into place.

The Okinawan paused her train of thought to hustle forward and open the door to the cab. Unmoved as she was, he was acknowledged with a slight nod from the pop star.

"Thank you..." Miyane trailed, "I apologise, what is your name?"

"Taira Asahi, Sou-san."

"Thank you, Taira-san."

Polite, but clean and detached. Miyane stepped into the vehicle and let the veneer of 8team's Ice Princess settle over her as the cab trundled forward.
Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Savo
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Savo Time to go to Hell

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Marc Kurosawa

Location
Southern District - Galaxy

Interacting With
???


Despite how careful and sneaky he was attempting to be, Marc was rather caught off guard by the sudden appearance of this newcomer. He flinched back into a frozen world, waiting for his throbbing heart to calm down as she stood in place.

Soft breaths left his mouth as he barred his canines with a frown, grinding them as he swayed his head from side to side, becoming nothing more than a vexed pendulum for the few minuscule seconds of stopped time.

Despite this he had two-

Marc peered over at the shirt the girl head before rubbing his temples.

Er, one, one plan at the ready. Stretching his arms up, he repeated a few lines to himself as he recalled the cited list of bands that he took note of that were performing today. "Gawds, I don't like leavin' this up t'the dice," he murmured to himself before exiting from this brief reverie.

Aside from him staggering back into position, he gave a clear and crisp answer as he shoved one of his hands into his pockets and extended the other out as if giving some sort of presentation to an audience.

"The New Blue Glitch," he called out immediately, looking around this cramped space for a bit before stepping over something, chuckling a bit nervously as he managed avoid causing the backrooms to avoid turning into some bizarre domino effect.

"Uh, y'need some help there?"
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by ERode
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Northwestern District
Well, her food was certainly food. In a dusty place like this, with so many thoughts on her mind, Mana could hardly taste what she was eating. The atmosphere wasn’t the best either, the fluorescent light and incessant dinging of trains coming to and fro serving to distract her from truly meditating on the problem at hand. But perhaps that was for the best. If enough time passed, Hanami was bound to turn up somewhere. Or maybe Kouta’s concern will shift into apathy, and he’ll just move on. All convenient resolutions, despite the bitter aftertaste that’d accompany it.

It was easy enough to finish up her meal. Pre-packaged subway bentos were only gonna be the size of her two hands, if she planned to be economical, and even the specials weren’t that much larger. There was plenty of time left for her to idle, and naturally, the pale woman’s eyes gravitated towards the hissing doors of arriving trains, still no small amount of people heading out. Just the usual salaryworkers though, grabbing a late lunch or heading out to meet a client, was her immediate assessment, but as she turned, a familiar countenance broke off from the crowd.

It was the schoolgirl from before, dressed in the same somber outfit she had worn on that rainy day, but there was a medical eyepatch over her right eye this time, spots of dark red indicating where blood had dried. Without noticing Mana, she nodded at her companion, before heading off and away towards the escalator.

But while that schoolgirl, with her grave posture and her striking attire, had caught Mana’s gaze first, it was her companion, still standing inside the train, that made her do a double take.

Boyishly cut hair. A tall, healthily proportioned body. She hadn’t seen her in some time, but…

...wasn’t that Hanami?

The doors hissed shut. The train began to depart.
Southern District
It looked like the conversation was coming to an end, or, at the very least, an awkward silence. Checking his phone, Yasuo nodded once, before promptly kicking up onto his feet. “Welp,” he said, “Looks like we’re gonna go now, so, uh...peace, tas- Tsurushi.”

He hefted up his backpacking, shoved the paper bag (that was definitely filled with only a water bottle) into the large pockets of his hoodie, and turned to Marina, eyes flickering in the direction of the live house.

“Better start lining up now, Rina.”


“New Blue Glitch?” She narrowed her eyes at this, before placing her box of stuff down. “Thought you guys weren’t showing up today.”

The woman let that stew for a moment, before sighing. “Yeah, we do need the help. If you’re gonna show up just to watch, help me set up the wiring for the lights. Name?”

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by AdmrlStalfos19
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Tsurushi had been wondering how Yasuo knew so much about Hitsu's line of work, but it had evidently caused the young green-haired woman to space out. By the time she thought to say something, Yasuo and the girl he accompanied made preparations to leave.

"Oh! Er... see you," Tsurushi raised a hand in meaning to wave goodbye, only for it to awkwardly remain in place.

She was really bad at saying goodbye to people.

...

With that conversation barely even taking a minute, Tsurushi was once again left with nothing to do for an hour. Her thoughts drifted all over the place, but eventually they united again. She was going to go in, wing some sort of explanation as to why she'd up to her appointed session an hour early, and she was going to get said session over and done with so that she can return home in due time.

Tsurushi entered the run-down office building, hoping to all hell that this wasn't going to be a huge mistake...
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The disinterested look that she had left upon the crowd and trains persisted for a second more as a realization sunk in. An involuntary action, Mana slamming her stretched fingers down upon the dirty subway table, was followed by a dropped lower jaw. Mana didn't even have time to really reflect on what she saw before her feet carried a hesitant body forward. The two appearing there was such an unlikely event, processed barely by an unconscious portion of her brain, that she couldn't even fathom an internal voice more complex than a silent 'what'. She rushed forward. The eyepatch-wearing girl was of little consequence; whatever their relation, Hanami dropping right into her vision mattered far more

If she had run like a sprinter before to save the suicidal girl, then she was the Blue Blur himself right there and then. The doors inched closer and closer, threatening her with images of snipped fingers, but she dropped any sense of self-preservation for this. Already she had brutally shoved three innocents aside to reach the train car and recklessly threw her palms between the doors. She had no idea if they worked like elevators, but any prospective pain just didn't matter. The doors paused, their bristly rims spreading between her fingers as she tried to wrench the doors open. Automatic or by her determination alone, they gave way, followed by a robotic request from the intercom not to mess with the doors.

Mana threw herself inside with a huff, and absent-mindedly checked her fingers. They were all there. A look up met her with disgusted and fearful stares from the rest of the riders, no doubt a combination of her appearance and the total lack of decency in her forcing her way on board. She ran a hand through her short hair, and paid them no mind.

"Hanami? Hanami?" she called out to the car. Surely they thought she was an early drunkard by then, fumbling through the cabin to seek some 'Hanami' out.
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Well, it was about time to line up at Galaxy. Before Marina tossed out the Sudoku book that had lost all entertainment value, she tore out a few pages and stuffed them into her pockets. Now that the weird woman left to see her shrink, Marina felt like she could speak again. Even though it was just a minute, it felt like an eternity. That's how awkward it was. They could have had a riveting conversation about why she was known to Yasuo as 'taser lady' or why she would go and speak to them in the first place. That was her surliness flaring up, though. Better to ignore whoever that woman was.

Keep her eyes on the prize. With Yasuo, she had lined up outside of the building. A good seat was at the front and to get one, one had to wait at the front doors. The two of them would wait there until the doors were open. Then? Well, Marina would do something. She hadn't actually decided what, nor has she seen face-to-face if the drummer really was one of her killers.
Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Savo
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Savo Time to go to Hell

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Marc Kurosawa

Location
Southern District - Galaxy

Interacting With
???


Huh, that was easy.

Well, almost; crap. The way Marc maneuvered as he heard the lady ask for a name jolted him a bit. He nearly slipped and tumbled over some equipment, but continued to regain his footing in no thanks to his obviously excellent balance and not because the wall was in a convenient place. Regardless, his mouth being left agape for a couple of seconds during this time, trying to answer, yet nothing escaping his mouth.

"I-ishikawa, Akira," he suddenly blurted out, feigning that he almost tripped over some stray cables he managed to notice. Yup, smooth impromptu acting alright; he was both smiling on the outside an inside, albeit the boys inside smile was a lot more anxious.

"Just call me Akira though, none'f that Ishikawa crap," he kept up this act, even going so far as to articulate the last words as if they were a pejorative phrase; Marc even went the extra mile and slightly frowned before that shape flashed out of existence and back to the faint happy-go-lucky mask he adorned prior.

"But yeah, gotcha, pretty simple stuff," he spoke up, clearing the final hurdle as he slithered through and approached the young woman. Looks like he was just gonna have to play along for now.
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Northwestern District
Non-confrontation was the norm when faced with train-barging miscreants, and though there were plenty of hard stares in the direction of Mana, none of the normal people within the train said anything; delinquents were to be seen and avoided, not to be chastised publicly. Midday meant, thankfully, that the train hadn’t been packed to the brim, and though Mana had to push past some people (who refused to move in a meager show of disapproval towards her actions), her path through the cars was relatively smooth. There was a young woman holding a silent bundle to her chest. There was an office worker, eyes downcast, staring at the box of personal stationary resting on his lap. There was a child with brown twintails, eyes set to a hard glare upon Mana, before they directed themselves back to the window, the dark blur of the tunnels. Mana passed them all by in her hurry, eyes searching for that head of short hair.

And then, she saw her. Leaning against the door, arms crossed, one foot tapping against the ground. A beat, or just a tic? Her eyes flickered upwards, and in that moment, their gazes met. The woman blinked, a mixture of fear and surprise in her eyes.

“Juujomaru Station, Juujomaru Station. Arriving at Juujomaru Station.”

Five, ten seconds before the doors opened again. Clutching her purse against her chest, she turned out of the entrance and strode quickly down the train cars. There was no question about it: she was walking away from Mana.
Southern District
The office building that Anenokoji’s business was in certainly could have seen better days. Though the stone steps leading up to higher floors looked relatively intact, graffiti spilled on every inch imaginable once you got past the first floor (which smelled of blood, piss, and fear, but was otherwise spotless). The second floor’s CGA office had the sadness of an accounting firm that didn’t see all that much business, with the place only being open three hours a day, and only four days a week. Today, it was closed, and tomorrow, it was also closed. A dirty glass window showed nothing but empty shelves and cardboard boxes, as if the firm was perpetually in a state of movement, whether it be in or out of this office. A couple cigarette stubs were swept in one corner of that floor, but Tsurushi found it easy enough to step over that. It was on the third, however, that things changed. Though graffiti still coated the walls, they did not cross over onto the heavy, steel door with ‘Anenokoji Counseling’ written on a plate.

She opened the door, of course. There was no buzzer, and, twisting the knob, the door was unlocked to begin with. A cool breeze breathed out as Tsurushi entered the third floor office, and the first thing that was noticeable was just how meticulously clean everything was. Linoleum reflected the incandescent lights affixed to the ceiling, while a speaker system somewhere played Wagner’s Prelude to “Tristan Und Isolde” softly. Though there were no sofas, the chairs were padded, and the coffee table had a spread of magazines on top, largely innocuous genres such as lifestyle and cooking, with the occasional science magazine sprinkled in. Potted plants were lined up on the windowsill; a half-full water dispenser gurgled out bubbles of air every couple of minutes. There was no receptionist present, nor even a desk for them, but it was a small room anyways.

It wouldn’t be all too surprising if Hisui ran this place herself.

There was another door in the room, incomprehensible words slipping out from the gap below. It was really simply a matter then, of whether to wait or to enter.



With mere minutes to go before the doors to the live house opened up, the area around Galaxy had certainly become congested, crowds of young folk spilling out onto the roads. Vehicular traffic was sparse, of course, so it wasn’t as bad of a situation as it could have been, but there was a thick atmosphere of rowdiness that seemed to defy the perpetual gloominess of Tenoroshi. People jostled each other, bumping hips and elbows as they crowded around the small entrance, no proper queue in sight. From mohawk-sporting punks with piercings all over their face to prep student desperately trying to fit in to wizened old men who smacked younger folks with their canes to families with young children who just happened to enjoy satanic shredding and hellish hammering, there was a wide enough variety of people that Yasuo and Marina, with their sudoku books and their bagged vodka, were one of the more normal features.

Unnoticed too, amongst the chaotic anticipation, was the taxi that passed by the crowd and circled around to the back of the building. By the private parking lot, Daehyun, in his sorta ridiculous and certainly not serious get-up of big shades, a baseball cap, and a cough mask, stood, leaned against the door, one foot placed against it to keep it open. It was the privilege of the rich and famous, after all, to obtain backstage passes to everything, and Miyane, fallen idol as she may have been, was no exception. As she stepped out of the taxi, he pulled the door open, and the strumming of the last instrument check washed over her, the sound so bright and so dark.

Only a few minutes left before the show began. Overhead, the clouds began to part, bright rays of sunshine breaking through the gloomy expanse.

Indeed, for Marc, the end was almost here. He had been yelled at more in the past hour than he had in his entire life, all cordiality gone once the blond youth decided to ‘play’ along and help out the understaffed part-timers at Galaxy. Once it became abundantly clear that he didn’t know what he was doing at all with the mess of cables, he had been passed around like a present that no one wanted, forced to carry things to and fro while dancing around amplifiers and taut wires, instrument cases and railings. Given no mercy or leniency due to his tall stature, he was worked to the bones with no real chance to escape and lock himself in the washroom. All work had to end though, and finally, everything looked ready to go. The lights were working, the sound systems were working, the seats were lined up, the floor was swept, the wiring taped, and the fences, ostensibly to discourage stage-diving, were set up.

“Akira,” the icy part-timer called from across the room, a mixture of anticipation and exhaustion in her own voice, “Drink up. You’re on fence duty. Make sure people don’t knock it over.”

Moments later, she hurled a can of some sort of Chinese energy drink towards him, the beverage whump-whumping towards him like a fastball from an ace pitcher.

Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Savo
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Savo Time to go to Hell

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"Akira Ishikawa"

Location
Southern District - Galaxy

Interacting With
Miwa


Fuck.

Everything.

It would be easy he thought as he leaned against one of the walls of Galaxy as his now damp tank top continued to cling on to the salt-slick back. Just like his false bravado, his jacket was stripped off his body, collecting dust somewhere in this godforsaken place. Wires were pretty simple stuff he said, finger hooked around the collar, flapping the sticky shirt back and forth like some sort of sail.

The last hour was unbearable to deal with to say the least as thoughts of booking it being his main choice crossed his mind when first encountering that girl. He scowled as he glared daggers at the seats they commanded him to organize by himself. That was basically what he did for the past- how long had it been?

After he failed to deliver on that so called simple task he was pretty sure he became their stress ball as his breathing slowly abated. Take those chairs and go there, go with her and bring back the fencing, get yelled at for apparently doing something wrong. The blonde glowered, biting his lip before groaning, "Never coming here again," swinging his sweat caked head like a pendulum.

Thank god this was all over, so he thought; he could grab his crap and ditch this joint to explore somewhere else. That line of thinking was interrupted when the competitively exhausted thorn in his side for the past hour looked over at him tentatively and called Marc by his pseudonym.

"Yeah, gotcha," he responded hoarsely back, forcing the fakest smile he ever had to appear as he pushed himself off the wall. This was definitely not gonna be-

Whumph-wuuuumph-

He had barely any time to react as the canned drink soared through the air, contents sloshing inside as it headed directly for his chest. Under this small window of time, he stretched out his arm as it flew into his hand, before cupping it around as it landed into his arms, cradling the can in his arms like a football.

Ok, damn, that girl had a throwing arm to say the least as he winced a bit, clutching at the energy drink with some kanji on it. Marc couldn't help but grimace, pressing the tip of his tongue against both of his front teeth as he tapped the can with his fingers. He couldn't help but stare at the can for a few seconds, before popping it open.

Tsht.

Well, bottoms up as he chugged a bit of the drink before pausing, reminded once more why he didn't like energy drinks. Marc swore he could feel himself turning a putrid shade of green as he tore the drink away from his lips. "You don't happen t'have any water do you," he mentally cursed himself for not asking that from the start, choosing to just assume that they didn't have anything else.

Probably too late now, but like the drink, you live with what you get, or something, trudging listlessly over to the side of the fence.
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banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

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SOU MIYANE - Southern District: Galaxy

“<<Quite a crowd,>>” she observed.

Daehyun whistled. “<<Was that a compliment?>>”

Miyane rolled her eyes.

“<<Gotta cut that vacation short, Miya-ssi, you’re getting too mellow.>>”

The light in the backstage area was dim, colors only occasionally filtering across her features, constantly morphed by stage hands, technicians rushing back and forth in the last minutes before the showtime. Even so, the glare she shot the actor-dancer was unimpeded in its intensity. Daehyun raised his hands in surrender.

“<<They’ve been getting big,>>” he explained, “<<The numbers are about expected. Just enjoy the tunes, yeah? Drum solo’s killer.>>”

He wasn’t wrong. For a bunch of fresh indie-label signees, they were… competent. Audience and staff alike were entranced. Even from the angle she was looking, the excitement in the mosh pit was clear as day. Miyane wished she could share in that feeling. Years of training, devotion to perfection, spoke otherwise.

While everyone revelled in the passion of the performance, her gaze zeroed in with distaste. The way the frontman swayed. The way he jumped when the drums went into overdrive. Stiff, tacky. The way his ‘ah’s didn’t round out when the pitch was too high. Sloppy. The nitpicking went on, shame stockpiling in the back of her mind as the songs went on. She just couldn’t watch a performance like a normal person. Was this because she was a professional? Or because someone else was on the stage?

Then the applause came. It was the hardest part to get through.

Miyane wasn’t sentimental. Miyane was rational. She knew there couldn’t be more than three or five hundred in the live house, a quantity didn’t even begin to compare to an arena - hell, most of the stages she dominated back in the international scene.
Her heartbeat was thunderous, nevertheless.

The booming, small in number but gargantuan in enthusiasm, echoed through the live house, reverberating in every corner. Inescapable. Her eyes were wide open, not from the ecstasy in the air but the fear of the image that would consume her if they closed. A memory once fond, now just a reminder of the emptiness that replaced it.

A night in 2014, Tokyo Dome. Deafening and blinding and exhilarating, seconds after the night’s final song. Miyane’s breath was course, mind never so awake. Hands sticky, but devotedly clamped to her anchors that kept her from getting swept away by the adoration of thousands of strangers. If she turned to the left she’d see grateful tears trickling past Chaewon’s nose. This applause belonged to them. Miyane thought that happiness would drown the eight of them that night. But that was okay. As long as their hands were still in hers, she was unstoppable.

Then someone squeezed her shoulder.

Miyane blinked, vaguely recognizing Daehyun’s knowing smirk before he stepped past to congratulate the band members coming off. The show was over.

With Daehyun’s back towards her, amongst a sea of stage hands – nobodies – Miyane stood alone, barely noticed.
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Asuras Into her woven halls, her children cover the walls

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What? Oh no, no, no.

Mana was not about to be ignored like that. But then... surely there was a reason? She knew Hanami would have recognized someone as characteristic as her, so Mana doubted the girl simply didn't like that some ragged girl her age somehow knew her name. Mana gave chase, passing by the other passengers. Some of the cars were more crowded than others, and knowing the best tactics for escaping chase in a train station, had herself made sure not to simply pass Hanami by, were she to have taken a seat in hopes of throwing Mana off. She went through each car deliberately, searching for the short-haired girl in the seats and ahead. She was running out of cars to retreat to, and Mana knew that Hanami was definitely aware of it.

With the next stop arriving in mere seconds, Mana could tell the girl was aiming to get as much distance before ducking out of the train car, and lose her in a crowd outside. That is, if Hanami were smart. If she were doubly smart, though, Hanami would know that and stay on board, waiting for Mana herself to jump out. Such thinking would have quickly devolved into a guessing game, so for the time being Mana simply aimed to keep the girl in her sights. If she dove out of the train, so too would she. If Hanami would opt to run all the way to the tail end of the train, Mana would corner her there. Whatever was amiss, she wasn't about to just give Hanami the benefit of the doubt and offer her some privacy.

Kouta was depending on her.
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Western District
Mind games only worked when both parties actually decided to think so far. Rather than play the guessing game, the short-haired woman simply leveraged her physical prowess instead, pushing through the groups of people gathered before the entrance, before striding away, not breaking into a full sprint but certainly still aware that she was being followed.

Juujomaru Station was in the western district, and it certainly reflected the aesthetic of the older part of Tenoroshi: there were no escalators and the construction was still a mixture of wood and iron, a constant cave-like dampness clinging to it. At this time of day, few others were in the station, and Mana had no trouble at all with spotting her quarry, her own tenacity helping her keep up. The stairs did a number on her sides, the station master blew a whistle and shouted at her to slow down (not that either woman heeded his instructions), and the dimness of the subterranean station soon gave way to the light that spilled from breaking clouds.

The splotches of blue that made it past the overcast skies was beautiful enough to give Mana pause.

But the short-haired woman turned the corner down a side street, and Mana continued her pursuit. It carried her up the hills, down winding roads, past neglected playgrounds, between aged apartments, all as her heart hammered against her ribs, her lungs heaving up and down. And yet, the distance between the two never closed, and the posture of the woman she chased never flagged. Was Hanami ever that good a runner? Like Kouta, she had been in the Go Home Club during high school, with a propensity for loitering around convenience stores after school. Could someone change that much in two years? Or had she never been close enough to Hanami to notice all this?

Mana’s thoughts were cut short as she turned down another alleyway, colliding with, no, being bodyslammed by the woman who she had pursued just moments ago. Her back pressed against the wall, a garbage can toppling over as the woman’s forearm positioned itself over her neck. This close, the difference in height, in muscle mass, was clear; Mana was an entire half foot shorter than her, and it looked as if she had noticed that as well. There was still fear in her tawny eyes, but it was frenetic now, aggressive, as she leaned in close.

“Who the hell are you and why are you following me?!”

Southern District
Well, it was the polite thing to do, doing nothing. Minutes passed into an hour as Tsurushi waited, doing nothing of importance. Maybe she stood up to get herself a glass of water. Maybe she closed her eyes to doze off a bit, sleep being a scarce resource for any teacher of elementary schoolers. Maybe she searched for free Wi-Fi in vain, and settled for browsing on data instead.

Regardless, time passed meaninglessly, and soon, the door opened, a middle-aged man with a bulbous nose stepping out. With pale skin and blue eyes, he looked at least half-foreign, and each movement of his spoke of confidence and competence. Dark hair parted to either sides of his face, and his neck was thick and powerful, the hallmarks of a lifter. He fixed his tie as he walked out, Hisui leaning against the doorframe to watch him leave. Her own complexion was slightly flushed, the difference standing out only more when framed by her silvery locks.

The man picked up his suit jacket from the coat rack, nodded once at Hisui, then at Tsurushi, and strode out of the office. His steps hadn’t made a sound throughout.

“Bit early,” Hisui remarked after a couple seconds, “But no point in making you wait without purpose. Tsurushi, you’re free to come in.”

Tristan Und Isolde continued to play in the background as Tsurushi stepped into Hisui’s office. There was consistence in design here, the office sharing the same bright, sterile appearance that the rest of place had. Linoleum floors again, monochrome-and-glass furniture again. The fluorescent lights were replaced with dimmer, incandescent lighting, however, and the blinds of the window were open as well. Noontime sunlight filtered through, giving life to the potted plants by the windowsill and giving warmth to the room. It wasn’t air-conditioned, here, and a faint, floral aroma was dispensed by a silent machine in the corner of the room. Hisui sat in her black leather swivel chair, while motioning for Tsurushi to lie on the white lounge chair.

She waited a couple of moments for her client to settle, before asking, “Troublesome week?”



The sound was explosive and passionate, raw and hungering. It fed off the crowd’s enthusiasm and amplified it in turn, everything rising and rising to whip the crowd into a frenzy. Though New Blue Glitch had to take a rain check for the event, their absence was hardly noticed, the rest of the lineup intense enough to keep people from being dissatisfied at all. ApocaSis had the opening act, heavy metal triplets performing purely instrumental music that had the entire live house shaking in their bones. Rites of Hammerhead followed up with their own act, madmen who were, if their Facebook page was to be believed, “classical musicians brought back from hell to unleash true torment upon the spineless strummers of modern society”. Wielding electric versions of classic stringed instruments, most impressive being their absolutely savage contrabass, they pizzacato’d away while their lead singer screamed Latin into a loudspeaker. Compared to the eccentric starters, Dread Daughter and Handmask were certainly more standard, but doubtlessly equal in energy as well, their setlist one technically complex song after another. Their explosive (and maybe a bit stupid) guitarist even dove off the stage regardless of the fence, his feet almost smacking a blond part-timer in the head before he was surfing the crowd. And, in a rare occurrence, Firestarter, despite being busy with their aboveground music careers, showed up again as well, old-timers in the field still belting out their signature lyrics of apocalypse and rebirth, resurgence and revenge. Closing things off, of course, were the Quartermasters, the bone-pulverizing solos of each member of the band looking both absolutely painful and absolutely glorious. It was youthful excess and it was semi-deranged grunge, but only in Galaxy could one get away with smashing one’s drum set so hard that the drumsticks cracked, before tossing the sticks into the crowd and continuing the solo with his knuckles.

That too was stupid, but in the end, it was entertaining and it was metal, and that was exactly what the concert-goers had paid for: unrestrained entertainment on the day of the Lord. Or, well, that was what most of them paid for.

Some of them, like Marc, hadn’t paid at all, not with money at least. Holding back the fence and almost being decapitated by someone’s foot, while being right behind an amplifier had made the concert a far more intense experience than he had expected. The fatigue was certainly growing now, but there was also the buzz of adrenaline that coursed right underneath his skin, electric and eclectic. Looking around, it was clear that other part-timers at Galaxy felt the same thing. They had only barely made the deadline, but in the end, everything worked out and they got to enjoy for free what others had to pay for. A hard smack landed between his shoulder blades as Miwa showed up beside him. “Nice work,” she said, her own countenance a far cry from the stressed, ice-cold persona she had before all this began, “Have some water. And this as well.”

The mixed-blood had a bottle of ice cold water shoved into one hand, and in his other hand, he received an empty garbage bag and a trash picker. Of course. As the live house emptied out, it was clear that no one but the staff were expected to pick up all the cups and shit that was littered on the ground. Work never ended, it seemed. Miwa had already turned away, hopping up onto the stage to inspect damages and disconnect amplifiers.

Some others were more fortunate, though they were unable to appreciate it all that much. With a backstage pass gained solely from knowing a guy who knew another guy, Miyane stood alone, watching people file out of the live house and leaving only chaos and trash behind. No one spared her a glance, all enthused about the performances they’ve just witnessed, the plans they had for the afternoon. Was it going to be food? Were they inspired to get back to their own instruments? Were they just content to head off to a park and bask in the afterglow? No one here, not even the Firestarters, were ever going to make it big, not nationally, not internationally. But inside, at least, in this little hole in the ground, they were stars. And who was she?

“Oh shit, Daehyun, didn’t know you were talking about MiA!” A reedy, unfamiliar sounded amongst the din, closer and closer. It belonged to the same drummer from before, the dumbass knucklerapper. Bichromatic hair was swept back in wild curls, while his ear piercings were similarly different, a ring in one and a nail in another. Though his face seemed to lend itself well to a naturally nasty sneer, the youth’s expressions were wholly divorced of sarcasm in this instance, dark eyes widening.

Daehyun was beside him, his own manicured features standing out all the more when complemented by this wild child. “Well, surprise. Miyane, Yuudai. Yuudai, Miyane,” he introduced swiftly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Pleasure to meetcha,” Yuudai said, immediately bowing. “Real big fan of your earlier works, miss!”

Well, he was certainly earnest.

Which was a far cry from what he was in that alleyway, watching her bleed out as her organs were plundered. Yasuo nudged Marina, but she was doubtlessly already aware of the presence of the young man, the way he acted without looking at all bothered by the murders he had been an accomplice to in the past. The voice was the same. The appearance was the same. Only the mannerisms were different, but then again, Japanese society was skilled at cultivating humans with multiple faces.

“Kang Daehyun and Sou Miyane,” Yasuo supplied, eyes glancing towards the two beside Marina’s quarry. “One’s a big name in K-pop, and another used to be. What’s the plan now?”

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