[color=A9A9A9][h2]Northwestern District[/h2][/color][indent]
“Hrmm,” Gotou rumbled, briefly annoyed. It disappeared soon after though; frowns didn’t really seem like they fit his face anyhow. “It’s fine, miss. So long as you understand.” He folded his arms against his chest and tapped a soft rhythm against the floorboards.

Soon after, Suzuha woke up.

Her complexion looked better, at least, and though she looked briefly alarmed at her changed surroundings, upon seeing Gotou, the child relaxed, a bit of the tension leaving her body. But only a bit. Her eyes, clear as they were, still held a fragment, a sliver of something else. “Um…” she began. “Where am I?”

“A tea shop,” Gotou replied. “You collapsed in the heat, and these nice ladies here brought you here to recover.”

“Oh...uh…”

“What do we say to people who help us?”

“T-thank you…” Suzuha bowed her head slightly. “Can we go home?”

Gotou opened his mouth, reconsidered, and then closed it. He nodded.

“Then...carry me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The man gave Fumiko a look, but didn’t wait for her permission. Taking Suzuha into his arms once more, he dipped his head in Maya’s direction. The woman smiled, then glanced towards one of the high schoolers still killing time there, his tea untouched. He immediately hopped up, swung over, and opened the door for Gotou and Suzuha.

Yeah, if they were going to just order waters and loiter around, they may as well do [i]something[/i], right?

Suzuha waved at Aya and Fumiko as she carried off.

The door swung closed.

The person in the hoodie also left.
[/indent][color=A9A9A9][h2]Southern District[/h2][/color][indent]
The Southern District was Brutalist, concrete and unforgiving. A skater’s paradise perhaps, but for self-professed gravediggers, nothing short of annoying. There were places though, places made from years of neglect, where weeds spread their roots enough to crack the sidewalk open, slabs of pavement cracking open. It was there, in a quiet side street, that Otoya crouched, prying away the stone to expose dry dirt underneath. The sun still beat down hard against his back, but in the morning and afternoon it would be shaded, and the graffiti decorating the walls of this street weren’t too bad either. His nails chipped uncomfortably, but they were due for a clipping anyways.

The cat’s body had been light when he carried it over. Even lighter than its size suggested, all blood-matted fur and disjointed bones. Made it easier to bury though.

A shallow grave was dug. Filled. The pavement he had pried off, Otoya could now set back down as a gravestone, if nothing else. A bit of gravel got under his left middle fingernail, and now, a bit of blood seeped out. Barely a pinprick of pain though, so long as he didn’t think about it.

The meat was spoiling, the sun continued to beat, he felt like shit, and his head was beginning to ache.

He could get up now. Could probably leave too.
[/indent][center][color=A9A9A9][h1]June 14 2025[/h1][/color][color=A9A9A9][b]Time:[/b][/color] 4:30 PM
[color=A9A9A9][b]Weather:[/b][/color] Muggy[/center]