Hidden 2 mos ago Post by ERode
Raw
GM
Avatar of ERode

ERode Meteoric

Member Online

Western District
It was a muggy day to be out in the interior of Tenoroshi. The cool sea breeze did not reach the Western District, and though the city’s weather often bounced between overcast clouds and fog, on that particular day, summer decided to let its presence known to all. The sky was blue, the sun was hot, and the cobblestone streets of the Western District radiated heat like an oven. Glass chimes remained silent, the wind still; white light suffused everything, reducing the world to a haze of flat colors. Narrower streets, at least, offered shade, and with air conditioning being non-existent beyond electric fans, the residents made do best they could. A cooler, filled to the brim with ice and carbonated drinks, sat beside an aging storeowner who fanned himself lazily. A woman in a faded kimono splashed well water against the steps of her soba restaurant, watching it evaporate within moments, a half-bemused, half-resigned smile on her face. An adolescent groaned as he flopped over the freezer, face mused against the cooled glass; his obligation was to sell his ice cream, not eat it.

For all the district’s preparations, however, few people were truly out and about around the sloping, winding streets of Western Tenoroshi. Lunch rush had ended an hour ago, and now, only slow eaters or masochistic joggers, as well as the occasional lost person, passed by. In this labyrinth of stark light and shadow, the only guarantee that wanderers had was tranquilities and oddities during their walk.

But exceptions showed themselves occasionally.

A girl, no more than ten years of age, ran out from one of the countless side streets, her wispy auburn hair sticking to the sides of her face. Panting heavily, she collided with that misfortunate wanderer and was knocked back onto her bottom. For a moment, she looked up, stunned, hazel eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

Just a clumsy child, in a sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts, with sandals that had rubbed the skin of her feet raw.

She snapped out of her state, her skin pale even when her blood beat hot. Picking herself back up shakily, the child gulped down more breaths and made to run again.

Southern District
“Shit dude, that’s sick.”

“I know right? Look at all those…”

“Hahaha, ewww, it’s all purple and crap!”

It was a lazy Saturday in the Southern District. Vandalizing and such other petty crimes didn’t feel nearly so exciting during broad daylight, after all, and the weather was such that no one wanted to do anything more than lie around and talk shit. Graffiti may have coated every easily-accessible surface at this point, but that didn’t change the fundamental material that dominated the district. Concrete seared anything that rested long enough upon it; some particularly egg-abundant delinquents were almost successful in cooking a sunny-side up on one of the random stone blocks that jutted out from the roads. No live houses operated during such suboptimal times either, and only the most passionate skaters were tricking out at the parks, their shirts discarded in a steaming heap.

Wasn’t even good weather for a fight. Tempers may grow hot with the temperature, but when it’s this hot? Everyone just has a meltdown instead.

Still, it wasn’t all bad, especially not for three teenagers crouched around a cardboard box. With pocketknives and sticks, they picked and poked at a dead cat, its eyes popped out and its limbs twisted in funny ways. Parts of its fur were torn off to reveal pinkish skin beneath, while its belly was roughly sliced open, entrails spilling out. It was a macabre, horrible display, and already, flies orbited around the corpse, bouncing up and down as if to take little samples at a time.

Disgusting and disease-ridden, this entire affair.

But the three teens had never seen anything like this before, and they certainly wanted to see more of it now. One of them gulped. Nervous excitement caused his heart to race, but he wanted to be bolder than his buddies. Sticking his knife into the cut, he began to lift it up...

Eastern District
By the sea, the weather was refreshing, the spray of the waves and the salty breeze washing over all the attendants of the Fisherman’s Market. One of the few regular ‘festivities’ in Tenoroshi, the market was always popular with locals. Fresh seafood helped, and so did the pop-up eateries that ringed the wharf too. Though only professionals dared step into the ring, the auctions held for fish of particularly impressive sizes also drew curious onlookers: Sakamoto, the auctioneer, was always a theatrical bastard, and used his 3-dan in kendo to great effect, cleaving bluefin tuna with one stroke of his katana.

For those less interested in such displays of culinary skill, there was still plenty to enjoy. Haggling was allowed, even encouraged, and with enough persuasive ability, one could walk away with enough to last for a full week, after only spending half of their budget. Samples were plentiful, so long as you didn’t mind slowly coating your tongue with fish blood over time. But most importantly, there was the eyecandy. The rippling muscles of the crabbers, trained from hoisting up steel cages over and over. The gleaming skin of the divers, sparkling as brightly as the treasures of the ocean floor. And of course, the star of the market, the man who won Mr. Fisherman seven consecutive times: Captain Belo himself.

Gloriously, gratuitously half-naked, the Somalian immigrant with traps like mountains and quads like armor called out in his lilting, musical Japanese again, his wares just as good as his physique. Writhing, fatty eels by the buckets. Squid tender and pale. Mackerels so fresh that they may have just been snatched out from the ocean minutes prior. With a smile as bright as the sun reflecting off his bald head, he continued his business in a flurry of activity.

Some said that he was a retired mercenary with 500 confirmed kills. Others said that he was the legendary porn star who completed the 100-woman challenge with time to spare. Still more believed him to be the grain of truth behind the lies of the Nigerian Prince. So many rumors, so many fabrications, and yet, there was one truth that outshone them all.

He never had fish leftover after 2:30.

Central District
Saturday was not Sunday.

Plenty still worked.

But they could look forward to Sunday.

Outside, you see a shadow.

It is a big shadow.

A great shadow.

A shadow of a hand.

You look up.

There is a hand in the air.

Large enough to span the office building below it.

It pressed down.

It flattened the building.

No noise, no dust, no notice.

Only an empty lot remained.

You blink. You squint. You question.

Had that always been there?

Around you, bystanders walk on.

June 14 2025
Time: 2PM
Weather: Scorching

...........................................................................................................................
Arc 1: Take Me Out To Heaven
1x Like Like
Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by HereComesTheSnow
Raw
Avatar of HereComesTheSnow

HereComesTheSnow Can you hear me, pilot with the Three Strikes?

Member Seen 7 hrs ago

Iwao - Eastern District


Heat haze on the wharf made for a rather fitting bit of metaphor.

The Eastern District was, in its storied Saturday fervor, no stranger to all types of people— young and old, clean-cut and roughnecked, fettered and carefree. As such, it came as no great shock to any present that amongst the milling crowds, desperate to not miss out upon the fruits of the sea, there ambled a young man with a head full of blonde. To begin with, a gray tee with a black and white diamond pattern combined with navy basketball shorts wasn't terribly "rowdy" attire by any means, and the way he floated through the mass of eager seafood junkies as though carried upon those thermals was even less so. He was just, surely, a kid in the middle of an image change here for the same reason as anyone else—

It's about 2 now. Hopefully the Captain's still got something worth eating left.

Shopping.

Arizawa Iwao was here to shop. Fresh fish seemed to be a welcome addition to the sharehouse's fridge, which was a lucky break. He had been part of this crowd since he was a grade-schooler, after all. If his feet didn't follow Saturday's most familiar path, then... Well, what the hell else was there to do?

Just like the wavering air that leaked up from the wood as it baked in the oppressive sun, he was just doing what he always did on a day like today. Going where he always went. If the day's a scorcher, an inferior mirage distorts the image of things near the ground. If the day's a Saturday, Arizawa Iwao goes and gets seafood. There is a how, and there's even a why, but to those in question it just is.

And thus it was. Here we are, headed to Captain Belo, just like last week.

"Ah— Sorry!"

A rogue shoulder, owned by a rather frazzled-looking man with short hair, collided with Iwao's and snapped him back to the present. The faux-blonde's earthen eyes tore away from the shimmers at foot level to meet those of the other half of the encounter,

"Nah. I shoulda been lookin'."

And closed momentarily, as a grunted acceptance of blame and tilt of the head were made in response. A moment passed as the two regarded eachother awkwardly, before Iwao took it upon himself to cut things off there and start walking again. It was true, after all— even if the heat made a guy wanna take a nap, melt into the floor, or otherwise shut off, he had to keep his eyes on the prize if he was gonna get there before the Seven-Time Mr. Fisherman's stocks ran dry. Not to mention, the other dude was in a hurry to begin with.

As usual, even though the veterans of the Eastern District knew that this was cutting things close, there was still a very respectable crowd around the jacked, jovial, and judicious Somali salesman. There was just no catching the man at a dead hour— they only seemed to exist once he'd begun closing up, cleaned out by the hungry citizens of Tenoroshi. Two people were rung up with the quickness in the time Iwao took to approach, and when he'd drawn up to the far edge of those jockeying for position, three had taken their place.

Hm. Nothing compared to the buccaneers that massed during the morning, but still competitive.

The pensive frown that had populated his face when he was lost in his head faded, its ghost accompanied by a calculating narrowed gaze. He'd have to find a way in here. A gap in the net, if you'd pardon the pun.
1x Like Like
Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by OwO
Raw
Avatar of OwO

OwO what's this?

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago



With summer haze leaking in through every gap in the building, the beloved vista of the western district was much less appealing for Aya. The thought of screaming traditional buildings are shit, give me air conditioning constantly filled her mind during the summer months. Even with her summer uniform of a thin shirt, shorts and emblazoned apron, Amato & Ito's lack of actual air conditioning was apparent. The muggy air of the rainy season damaged books, but nobody in the store really minded. It wasn't like anyone besides the most curious of minds picked up first print issues of "Love Blooming On The Battlefield: Can You Find Love In 1864 America". The latest manga magazines usually sold before the humidity rot the pages. Fans plugged into walls billowed as best they could, but they only moved in more hot air.

Bzzz. Aya's pocket vibrated. Was it two already? Her mind, tortured by heat, thought eternity had already passed. She wasn't dead and trapped in some mildly hellish realm of labour and uncomfortable weather after all. With that, her shift was over. Miki was practically passed out while sitting at the counter, a small desk fan blowing onto her face. Walking past her and into their tiny excuse for a break room, she grabbed two bottles of nice and cold water and the rest of her stuff. Apron was now off and she was ready to escape the intense heat of the building. Placing one beside Miki's head as she left, she gave a quick goodbye.

"Headin' out. Shift's over."

The slow-roasting Miki lazily replied, her affirmation distorted from the spinning fan.

Outside was even worse. At least inside, she was protected from the sun's rays. After putting on her hat, she moved from shadow to shadow. Poles and awnings gave respite with the sun mostly overhead. For the long stretches of sun, Aya placed the bottle of water on her forehead to keep herself cool. The outside of the bottle became soaked from condensation the second it was exposed to the sun. Her forehead was drenched with water the moment the bottle touched. To the public transit she went!

Or that's what she would say, were it not for a loud thud and currently off balanced.

She caught herself on a pole. The concrete floor wasn't going to scrape her bare legs this time. Before her was a child. A foreigner? Auburn hair was definitely rare around these parts. Aya's hair wasn't the standard either, but that's because she dyed it long ago. In the brief moment of confusion the two of them had, she tried to figure out what to say. Sorry? Where are your parents? You could have killed an old granny? All three of them at once?

Before she could even extend a hand to get the girl up, she ran off. How odd, she thought. After mulling it over for all of five seconds, she began to run after the girl. Even in the great summer heat where she just wants to lie down, her curiosity was getting the better of her. Why was there a lone runaway girl? Was there something chasing her? Before she knew it, her legs were carrying her towards that long girl and her arms were tightly nestled around her camera bag.
Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by Ambra
Raw
Avatar of Ambra

Ambra Good Borb!

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago


MENTIONS: None yet.

June 14th, 2025
Central District


It was quite the lazy day.

Having had nothing urgent to do, Sayuri woke up at a rather late hour; because she had already stayed on top of her studies and responsibilities, she was one of the few people who actually had a decent amount of free time during the weekend. The girl uncurled herself from beneath the bedsheets, feeling the warm body of another pressed against her. Hiroyuki had ended up sleeping late, as well. She supposed that was a good thing. He was probably the only one that worked harder than she did. She saw that he was still peacefully dozing away, ad she knew it was a bad idea to wake him. He'd wake up when he want to, of course. He was a big boy. Yawning, she peeled off the sheets and slipped out of the bedroom as she ran her hand through her messy brown hair and wandered into their share-house's kitchen.

The sunlight poured through a singular window, the beam warming up the already countertops as they began to swelter under the heat. Sayuri decided it was best not to make something overly complicated for an afternoon wake-up meal, and so she pulled out a couple of eggs and put some rice to cook. With a graceful movement, she turned on the radio. The soft buzz of music spiraled forth from the small, rusted speakers, filling the kitchen with a delightful tune. A light smile crossed her face. It was a lazy afternoon, yeah, but that didn't mean she couldn't do something special. Maybe she could pass by the wharfs, even though they were definitely crowded at this time. She could even bring a book to read despite the crowd.

In the distance, something caught her eye. It was neither bird nor plane nor heavy, dense summer thunderstorm cloud. Sayuri's expression became pallid. No, this was something much different, she noticed as it hovered over a distant office building. It hovered lower and lower until the office building disappeared below its massive palm. No one screamed. No one ran. That was what she wanted to do, scream, run for help. And yet... she remained frozen in place, gazing out of the window at the space where the office building used to be. The egg fell out of her hand and splattered to the floor. The happy buzz from the radio station became white noise. The kitchen suddenly became cold, or was she just trembling just to tremble? Sayuri didn't know. But she wanted to understand.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Exit
Raw
Avatar of Exit

Exit

Member Seen 19 hrs ago



.
.

Interactions:
Mentions:

N O R T H E R N D I S T R I C T · H I N A T A

"You think you'll be fine?"

"Oh. Oh yes."

"Keep your eye on Toshi please."

"I won't let him die."

"Y-yes. Please don't let that happen, but uh... text me in case it does."

"Not the police. Got it boss."

"No. I mean if-...I'll see you tomorrow."
3:30. Late as usual.

Mochi tapped at his watch hoping the time was wrong. Hoping that maybe the hands had gotten stuck. That maybe the thing was broken or perhaps the heat was getting to him and he was seeing things.

3:30. "Late as usual." He sighed.

The sun was bearing down on him as he stood on the sidewalk. He could feel it searing his skin, burning the ends of his hair, igniting the air in his lungs as he breathed in fire. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, moisture pooling under the straps of his pack; could feel himself beginning to melt into the cement. He shuffled to his left a bit, dousing his head in the shadow of the bus stop sign. It was far too hot to be out and far too hot to be out for an hour waiting for the next shuttle. By the time it came around, he'd be a puddle.

A gust of warm, stifling air kicked up and nudged him to the left, some of it catching the sweat on his skin and kissing him like ice. He turned his head to follow and his eyes fell on an izakaya. The same one that had been there since before he'd begun work at the coffee shop. The kamon on the noren was a sphere with a tri-shaped piece cut out of the middle and three half starbursts on it's edges. A family crest he recognized. It danced lightly against the wind, the fabric catching on a pillow of air and opening down the middle almost beckoning Mochi inside. At least that's what he told himself it was doing as he stepped out from under his inadequate shade. The sun beat down on him again and he winched.

An hour. That's all he needed. The next shuttle would be there in an hour. There was cold air inside he was sure. Cold air... and ice to cure his headache.

And water. He was thirsty.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Crowvette
Raw
Avatar of Crowvette

Crowvette Lsot But Seeking

Member Seen 18 hrs ago

Fumiko


Fumiko sipped from her travel flask. It was still cool, though in the current weather anything would feel cool by comparison. She looked through the storefront of Spice Tea from inside, with the faintest expression of dread. The sunny world of the Northwestern District looked closer to an inferno to Fumiko.

She had walked to the tea store in the morning, before she realized how horrible the day would become. And now that she had finished tutoring, she had to walk back to the sharehouse... in that sweltering environment. But she was imposing upon the owner by staying.

She let out a sigh, hoping that glaring at the heat would will it away. The store, while still warm, was a haven compared to it. Despite that, she could feel a pricking of sweat on her forehead. She could feel the owner's kind gaze on her, wondering why she hasn't left yet. She could see where the thought process would go: "If she's just sitting here, maybe she's kind of lazy? Should I even let her tutor Maya if she can't even leave promptly after finishing a job? I should probably call the police..."

Fumiko shook her head. Of course that was a stupid thought, she was projecting how she'd think onto others again. The owner of Spice Tea, Ochaya Rie, was said to be an angel by many, and even a few of those many were something other than over-eager high school boys. She was trying to stop from being so proper at all times, so she could afford a few minutes of rest before heading out into the heat. She took another drink, trying to absorb as much of the cooling effect as possible.

'With any luck, something will let me stay here a little longer...' Fumiko wished to herself.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by banjoanjo
Raw
Avatar of banjoanjo

banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago

NAGAKU OTOYA - Southern District

Click-clackclackclackclack.

The sound comforted him. Something crisp to cut through the hazy afternoon. It felt like the whole goddamn city was melting under this heat. Seeping.

A backpack full of art supplies resting on his shoulders. One hand holding a bag of leftover meats from Seiji’s joint. The other clutching a can of spray paint, shaking it idly. It wasn’t a coincidence that he had it out at this moment. In this part of town, it never was.

Click-clackclackclack.

Another prod into a small body.

The musician counted the sounds, letting the clicks play out. Gave it a few more seconds to see if he calmed down.

Across the street, the delinquent stuck his knife in.

Otoya watched. Hm, yeah. Nah. These little shits were bouta get it.

He was no stranger to depravity. People got their rocks off plenty of ways, habitually crashing down the street from Den-Setsu taught a guy all sortsa things. What Otoya couldn’t stand though, was desecration. Injustice. Disrespect. There wasn’t a person in the world he’d trust to measure the value of a life, especially not these fuckin’ clowns. Cat, dog, human, every creature should have some dignity in death.

Ah man, he was getting heated up now. People were always warning him against running his mouth. Shoving his way into someone’s business. Tenoroshi wasn’t a place to cultivate bad blood, they said. An extinguished life here would be forgotten quicker than the spare change in a glovebox.

Otoya felt his neck creak. Ya know what though? Just because those people were right, doesn’t mean they weren’t also purposeless idiots.

In a quick few strides he was at the leader’s six, close enough to grab the scruff of his shirt and start spraying onto the back a cat with crosses for eyes.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by ERode
Raw
GM
Avatar of ERode

ERode Meteoric

Member Online

Northwestern District
This really wasn’t the sort of weather to be running in, and they weren’t even running. They were sprinting. Through shaded alleyways and winding streets, past mewling cats and panting dogs, over dried up canals and up punishing inclines. Aya’s hands fumbled with her camera bag, her heart slamming against her chest as her lungs heaved in hot air. And still, the girl she chased remained out of reach.

Surely she couldn’t be that slow? Surely the kid couldn’t be running that fast? At a pace that neither of them could sustain, the two neared the boundary into the Northern District, winding paths slowly shifting to paved, sun-baked streets. It was as if they were physically struck by the difference in heat; exposed out in the open, with no shadow in sight, the full power of the summer sun met them. Aya’s heart skipped a beat, then two, sweat stinging her eyes. A sharp pain shot into her chest, but it passed in the next moment.

For the child, however, it finally proved too much. She stopped, stalled, and then pitched forward, her face flushed and dry as she fell face-first onto the searing pavement.

And, in the lukewarm safety of Spice Tea, Fumiko could see all this go down as well, her travel flask halfway up to her lips as she watched a familiar face chase a child down until the poor girl collapsed in the heat.

Northern District
The difference between Kingyo’s exterior and interior was stark. Though from the outside, the establishment rocked a dark wood and paper door vibe, complete with a name etched into wood that mimicked the sweeping strokes of a brush and a red lantern that buzzed with the sound of LEDs, the inside rocked a...rock vibe. Heavy metal played softly, while the linoleum floor contrasted with jet-black walls adorned with various photos of metallic legends. The countertop was lined with shiny red stools, while the A/C at the back blared at a crisp 20 degrees Celsius, so cold that Mochizuki shivered.

Though not particularly wide, Kingyo was certainly long, a narrow establishment with a long counter for customers to eat at, but little in the way of proper tables. Behind the counter was various gas stoves, ovens, and grills, all of them turned off at the moment, while the door off to the right was slightly ajar. Through it, the bespectacled youth could see what looked to be a storage space the size of a closet.

The only other person inside the izakaya was a girl sitting at the counter, an apron draped over her shoulders. Her hair was cut at shoulder-length and dyed blonde; her ears were pierced while her bright eyes were piercing. Other than a slight nod towards Mochizuki when he entered, she was wholly focused on her melon soda float, jabbing at green, foamy ice cream with a long spoon while a news station sounded out from her smartphone.

“...are still asking for citizens to call in to report any sightings. The hotline number is…”

Above, the clock ticked seconds away, reading 2PM.

Southern District
“Hrk!”

Otoya managed half a circle before the delinquent lost his balance from being grabbed and fell over backwards, the rest of the sprayed paint catching onto the right side of his face. He twitched, eyes immediately tearing up as his nostrils flared, trying to expel whatever had entered it. “Shit, fuck, agh!” came out in sporadic bursts as he waved about wildly, unable to even see who grabbed him. One kick of his legs sent the box tumbling away, the mutilated cat rolling out into searing daylight.

His buddies, though hesitant, took only a moment before realizing that Otoya was just another vandalizing punk rather than someone dangerous. The bigger one, a crew cut lad with a black teardrop drawn below his right eye with a Sharpie, pounced up first, chest out as he grabbed the pretty boy by the collar. “Oi, fuckboi! Trynna start sumthin’ up with the West Park Bois?!”

The smaller one, with his hair sloppily dyed red and slicked back with a handful of gel, hunched his shoulders as well, lower jaw jutting out into a (threatening) grimace. “Yeah! You wanna fucking go?!”

Eastern District
It took a bit of finalging, a couple more apologies, and a sharp, keen eye, but after some tip-toeing, Iwao found an opening, seized the opportunity, and broke out into the front of the orderly mob. The smell of briny water was intense, and the cool air emanating from styrofoam boxes filled with ice was absolutely delightful. Mackerels, eels, red snappers, shrimps, and even a couple of large, spindly spider crabs were on display. Truly a summer’s bounty.

“Iwao!” The Somalian fisherman beamed. “Dyed your hair again, did you? Looks wonderful, like sunlight spun into a spool!” It was yet another one of Captain Belo’s myriad of talents: an uncanny memory for any of his customers, one-time or regular, as well as the sheer audacity to spit out flattering poetry. Rumors circulated, of course, that he had a PhD in Memory Studies from Stanford or Oxford or another -ford, or that he was a Poet Laureate from the United Kingdoms after his stint as a legendary Somalian mercenary with 600 confirmed kills, but for all his charm, Captain Belo never gave out his last name, and thus, Google never offered conclusive hits.

With a sweeping of his large hands, he waved off towards his bucket of eels, the fat sea snakes writhing languidly in the clear water. “Hot day, isn’t it? Good day for unagi, I feel! For you and your sharehouse buddies, how about I offer you five of these squirming beauties for 3000 yen? Good for skin, good for eating, good for virility as well!” The fisherman winked at that. Hijirido University’s co-ed sharehouses weren’t a secret to anyone, and neither was the fact that a disproportionately high amount of people in those sharehouses were hooked up with each other now. Midterm study sessions, as it were, sometimes were more potent than trips to Disneyland for forging romantic bonds.

Before Iwao could respond, however, an arm, sleeved with silk and bearing a fashionable watch, stretched out right by his ear. From behind, a young man in designers brands that definitely couldn’t be found in Tenoroshi called out, “I’ll take it! 3000, yeah? I’ve got 4000!”

Central District
She trembled, sourceless terror springing through her. Already, the sight was melting away, evaporating. The hand. From the sky. Made the building disappear. She blinked, once, twice. But though there were many gaps in the Central District’s cityline, Sayuri couldn’t find the gap that was new. Her memories were escaping her, sourceless terror gradating into meaningless confusion. Had to write it down. If she wanted to leave any mark of this, she had to write it down.

Two arms, slim and pale, wrapped around her, resting comfortingly beside her neck. A familiar pressure was there, the warmth different from the heat of the sun. With only the suggestion of cologne undercutting his natural musk, Hiroyuki leaned against her, his lips grazing her left ear. “Morning, Sayuri,” he murmured, “Sounds like no one else is home right now...”

His hands traveled lower, his body pressing closer.

Squeesh.

Hiroyuki grimaced, retracting and looking at his bare foot. Raw egg yolk clung to it, the slime falling away from, but never off, his toes. Gross, there were shards of shell as well. His eyes narrowed briefly, seeing the rest of the meal that Sayuri was preparing. There was anger there, but it was quickly replaced with bemusement. He chuckled, stepping away. “Clumsy as always, eh, Sayuri? Clean this up and finish cooking, will ya? Hungry as hell right now.”

With that, he turned away, tracking more egg onto the floorboards with every step as he strode for the washroom.

Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by HereComesTheSnow
Raw
Avatar of HereComesTheSnow

HereComesTheSnow Can you hear me, pilot with the Three Strikes?

Member Seen 7 hrs ago

Iwao - Eastern District


Well, far be it from the good Captain to let any of his loyal customers get away with slipping into a funk. The man had a preternatural gift for compliments, even if they came from an unexpected angle. He just always dyed it these days, y'know? "Spooled sunlight"... was certainly a new one, amongst "like a punk" and "bad news". Maybe that was focusing on the negative, but it was nice to hear somebody not riding your ass for it every once in a while, even if you'd long since stopped letting that bother you.

The erstwhile boxer's mouth quirked up a bit, in spite of himself.

Perhaps this was why he was thought of as a former philanthropist, happily giving away his millions from the mercenary life to pursue the humble calling of fisherman— he wanted to share his gigawatt smile with the rest of the world. Iwao certainly couldn't begrudge the idea.

Neither could he begrudge 600 yen a pop for unagi. That was a steal. Those damn things were so expensive normally... freshwater, farming, expensive to raise...

And here they were, wriggling about the bucket, pristine and by all rights healthy as could be. Good sheen to the scales, docile but still moving around...

...

How did he get unagi this close to the sea, anywa—

"I've got 4000!"

Uh oh.

For the briefest instant, Iwao's gaze snapped off of the long, luxuriant fish that promised cleared pores and possibly long nights under the covers (for Hiroyuki and Sayuri, at least) to capture several important details about his sudden competitor, stemming from the arm that had smashed into his peripherals and nearly made him jump.

That's a slick watch. The sleeve's... silk, I think. Not a tailor, but it looks fancy. Everything he's wearing, actually, looks fancy. Looks done up. I've never even seen any of that gaudy shit around here.

I can't outcompete this guy if he just keeps going over me. That much is for certain. Let's test the waters... If he's not a local, he might get spooked. If he'll play ball, I don't have a lot of room to work with.


The young man who never carried more than 6000 yen in his wallet on any given day spoke up, clear baritone slicing through the crowd to match the voice of the fashionista newcomer. It wasn't much, just a fleeting and momentary task to complete, but locking down some good grilled Unagi (or maybe Anago, who the hell knew) for everyone while not breaking the bank was a goal. The world seemed to sharpen a bit, even beneath the blazing heat.

"4250! While you're at it, what's the Snapper going for?"
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by banjoanjo
Raw
Avatar of banjoanjo

banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago

NAGAKU OTOYA - Southern District

“Oi.”

Otoya clicked his tongue as the delinquent writhed away from him, leaving his art half scrawled across an unintended canvas, incomplete. How annoying. He didn’t like punk defilers and he didn’t like leaving his tasks unfinished.

His gaze flickered to the spilled contents of the box. The briefest of looks before he was yanked by some—

Words and names hardly registered, not when there was something so thoughtlessly slapped on before him. Otoya stared the Sharpie’d teardrop and felt something well in the pit of his stomach.

“What…”

“--wanna fucking go?!”

Sharp eyes travelled from Crew Cut’s blemish to the other guy’s uncolored roots. They narrowed in fury.

Another thing. Otoya didn’t like punk defilers. He didn’t like unfinished tasks. And he especially didn’t like half-assed aesthetics. Like, come on. Put some fuckin’ backbone into it if you’re gonna try for something all-out. At least clowns put effort into their façade. These dipshits were even less than that.

The feeling in his gut spilled out into a wave of second-hand embarrassment.

“With your lot of tryhard chucklefucks?” Otoya scoffed, “Nah, I’m good.”
1x Like Like
Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by Ambra
Raw
Avatar of Ambra

Ambra Good Borb!

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago


MENTIONS: None yet.

Her eyes remained staring out of the window, her mind blank except for the atrocity that she had just witnessed. And yet, no matter how long she stared, she found that the image that had permeated her mind was slowly fading away. Sayuri's terror morphed into a befuddlement of confusion, so much so that she hardly noticed Hiroyuki's breath on her ear and his touch on her body. His proclamation for food, along with his chiding, brought her back to reality. Hungry. Food. Hand... she had to write it down. She had to write what that thing was down, or else, for one reason or another, she might forget. When Hiroyuki wandered off to the washroom, she fumbled for a scrap of paper from a notepad nearby. After quickly finding a pen, she hastily scribbled a short phrase down.

Flying hand squashed building.

How else could she describe it?

The frazzled girl tucked the paper into the pockets of her pajama pants and returned to her task at hand. Rice was all done cooking... by the time Sayuri she served the rice and cooked the eggs, the memory of the wretched hand was far out of her mind, leaving behind the same sense of lingering confusing. Her body felt drained, tired even. What happened? She woke up so energetic a couple of minutes ago. A sigh left her lips as she cracked an egg over each of the bowls of the white rice. The smell of a warm meal wafted about, stirring her stomach from its slumber.

"Hiro, hurry up! The food's getting cold!" Sayuri called as gently as she could as she began to brew some tea. A little pick-me-up could do them some good.
Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by Crowvette
Raw
Avatar of Crowvette

Crowvette Lsot But Seeking

Member Seen 18 hrs ago

Fumiko at the Northwest District

@OwO

Fumiko eyes narrowed. She had an urge to turn away, and pretend she didn't see it. But a nagging voice inside her reminded Fumiko that she could be liable if she didn't intervene. If word got out that she lived with someone who chased around little girls... She wouldn't allow it. She gathered her courage, her belongings, and her travel flask before setting out into the heat.

Fumiko shaded her eyes from the sunlight for a moment as they adjusted. Closing the gap between her and the two runners, she rose her voice, "Shimamoto, why are you chasing a child around...?" She had an uncomfortable smile on her face as she walked between the two, much like how a person on the street regards a homeless person shouting absurdities. "Little girl, where are your parents?" Fumiko said, turning to the collapsed child.

She grabbed her travel flask to offer to the kid, but she seemed to be completely passed out. "Umm... Shimamoto, she seems to be completely out..." Fumiko felt a twinge of panic. She wasn't exactly sure what to do in the event of heat stroke, and she didn't want to be responsible for hurting a little kid either.

She glanced towards Aya, with a hint of panic to her glance. 'What do I do?!' Her expression read.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Exit
Raw
Avatar of Exit

Exit

Member Seen 19 hrs ago


.
.

Interactions: @ERode
Mentions:

N O R T H E R N D I S T R I C T · K I N G Y O

There was no question why he'd never taken the time to wander in before. This was not his usual style. The colors were too contrasting to his own. The walls were covered in images of faces he didn't recognize. The sound, though played soft, threatened to grate at his ears. He almost shivered... and then did when the cold gripped him.

Sweating was also not his style, so here he would stay until the next shuttle arrived. He had time. Maybe too much. He mused, returning a nod to the woman and then moving to look at his watch again.

“...are still asking for citizens to call in to report any sightings. The hotline number is…”

His eyes snapped away from his wrist before he could read it and over to the source of the only kind of sound he recognized. The mysterious was never that far away. Always waiting around a corner or tucked away in some dark alley ready to snatch at unsuspecting prey. Odd sightings in the surrounding areas, lights in the sky, murders and disappearances. His wrist got a little heavier. Mochi wasn't the only one who paid attention, but he was one of the few magnetically drawn to it. The voice of apathetic urgency from the anchor was the same one he'd heard a thousand times before... and she was tugging at him again.

"Anybody new?" Mochi asked, finding a chair next to the girl. His shoulder bag came off and found a place on the back of his seat. "Sorry I just..." He pointed at the phone. "... I couldn't help but overhear."
Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by OwO
Raw
Avatar of OwO

OwO what's this?

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago



Northwest District

"Not... not chasing," a heavily breathing Aya told Fumiko, "following." Holy cow, that sprint brought her out of it. She hadn't expected the young girl to be a track and field legend at such a young age. Though, maybe it was the college life diet of instant ramen and plain rice that brought Aya down to the girls level. Maybe it was all of the cameras she had with her at one time. It was everything except for her own ability, she thought. Though, maybe her lack of any recent strenuous activity explained the sudden heart pain. When was the last time she exerted herself? High school gym class?

"An' she wasn't running from me, Morimori. Girl slammed into me at full speed, kept on hustling, an' I got a lil curious. So, you know, I followed her." It was a good thing she still had her bottle of still-cold water to cool herself down a bit. The condensate soaked her brow, but she really didn't mind this time around. All the running in the humid summer air already drenched her breezy t-shirt with sweat.

"It's uh... heat syncope. Get the legs an' help me move her somewhere cool. If she's sweatin', she'll come to and we give her some water. If she ain't and has a fever, then uh... 119. That's what Occupational Health and Safety: Outdoor Work Environments by Sasaki Shouta says, 'nyways." Aya didn't exactly have the heart to tell Fumiko that that book was self-published and wasn't verified by any health authorities. She went around to the girl's head and used her still unopened water bottle on her forehead in an effort to cool her down even a little.

"You're also an accomplice now."
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by ERode
Raw
GM
Avatar of ERode

ERode Meteoric

Member Online

Northern District
“Some Tamiko kid,” came the blonde’s response, swirling her spoon around the base of her drink. She pulled it out, more of that vanilla-melon froth clinging to it, before licking it off. Her cheeks tightened briefly, then settled back into self-indulgent contentment. “Went missing yesterday. On the way home.”

She tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Mochizuki. “You’re from Hinata, aren’tcha? Just here for the A/C?”

Southern District
Crew Cut’s face colored, blooming like a ripened tomato. It was a bad day for a fight, hot enough that even hot tempers were turned to mush, but a flash in the pan was still possible, and as Otoya’s words spilled out of his mouth, the thug growled with the ferocity of a pitbull.

“You’re fucking dead!”

Swinging his free hand back (and almost smacking his buddy in the face), he put all his strength into a wild haymaker that went right for the pretty boy’s jaw.

Eastern District
The city kid looked back at Iwao, and then smirked. With the relish of someone who certainly had more money than this sandy-haired twit, he called out, “42-”

“4200!” A pudgy-faced housewife raised up her hand, a bit of briny water speckling out from her wet palms.

An elderly gentleman in a three-piece tweed suit pulled out his megaphone. Static crackled as his voice resounded. “4300!”

Not to be outdone, a freshman from Hijirido, one of the ones lucky enough to score one of those proper co-ed sharehouses, raised up his hand, clutching a fistful of bills. “4500!”

And just like that, the auction was off to a frenzy, half the people not even totally certain what was being auctioned anyways. In the center of the maelstrom, Captain Belo smiled apologetically at Iwao, before thrusting out his glistening chest, filling his lungs with air, and letting out the practiced chant of an expert auctioneer.

There were rumors, after all, of the good captain having been an expert in black market auctioneering, dealing in ‘misplaced’ antiques and ‘naturally killed’ exotic species.

“Hellohellofiveeelsfor45004500doIhave46004600?Ohtothegentlemantotheright47004700anythinghigheranyonewannatherewegotothewomaninthatbeautifuldressthankyouverymuchnowwheredowegofiveglisteningeelsperfectforvirilityskincareandbarebequefiveeelstherewego4800totheladywiththesunhat-”

As he called out, he scribbled something down on his notepad, ripping off the sheet, folding it, and slipping into Iwao’s hands.

Red Snapper 1200¥/lb

Central District
“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Properly dressed and freshened up, Hiroyuki strode over, in slacks, a collared shirt, and a cardigan. Hot weather was no excuse to dress like a slob, after all. Adjusting his Seiko, he sat down, eyes flickering briefly towards the sheen upon the floor, the smeared yolk that glistened in the afternoon sun.

The corner of his lips twitched.

“Didn’t I tell you to deal with that? What will the others think, if they had to clean up a mess left by a freeloader?”

He shook his head with a sigh and began to eat, one hand flicking through his social media feed, hardly looking at Sayuri. A child could make a dish as simple as this, and yet the rice was still dry and stiff, as if too little water was used. Disappointing, but expected.

“Where’s the others anyhow?”

Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Ambra
Raw
Avatar of Ambra

Ambra Good Borb!

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago


MENTIONS: None yet.

Damn it, in the haze of heat and confusion, she'd forgot about the mess on the floor. Hiroyuki's words hurt her, but Sayuri knew he really didn't mean it. Even if he did, it made sense for him to get upset. He did ask for her to clean it up, and by now the greasy sheen had probably been partially stuck to the floor. A sigh left her lips as she reached for a damp towel and some water and soap, bending down on the floor as she scrubbed the yolk away. After spending a couple of minutes on her knees, she got up and tossed the towel into the sink. She picked up her bowl of rice and egg, walking over to Hiroyuki and standing in front of him for a moment, thinking about his question.

"I'm not sure. They were all gone by the time I woke up," she answered him. She gingerly picked at some of the rice in the bowl, making sure that it was moistened by the creamy egg whites. "How did you sleep, Hiro? I don't think the night was that hot, so it was pretty comfortable."
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by banjoanjo
Raw
Avatar of banjoanjo

banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago

NAGAKU OTOYA - Southern District

Otoya was not a fighter. Unfortunate, with all the situations his loud mouth got him in but the problems didn’t stop there. You see, Otoya was not much of a runner either, or any sort of athlete. Luckily, this guy’s swing was sloppy enough for even the musician’s slow reflexes to catch.

One hand holding a bag of leftover meats from Seiji’s joint. The other clutching a can of spray paint, his grip now white-knuckle. He raised them both in an attempt to block his face.

Ow. Owowowowwwww…!

Sliced pork belly and Styrofoam became a poor cushion as impact struck. The blow glanced off the package and Otoya’s forearm, dramatically lessening the force against his jaw but goddamn, that smarted.

Even worse than that, the crisp sound of shattered Styrofoam, half his week’s dinner, snapped from within the plastic bag.

“Urgh. Asshole!” he coughed with dismay.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Crowvette
Raw
Avatar of Crowvette

Crowvette Lsot But Seeking

Member Seen 18 hrs ago

Fumiko at the Northwest District

"A-An accomplice?!" Fumiko couldn't hide the note of panic in her voice. Of course, someone who lived with her probably would be able to know just what to say to get her attention. That fact that Aya probably was just saying it to ensure Fumiko's help didn't make the possibility of it being true scare Fumiko any less, though.

Disregarding whether or not the police would be around the corner at any moment, Fumiko helped lift the child, awkwardly taking off her bag and grabbing the legs. Given the time of day, finding a cool spot was probably not happening outside. It was fortunate for everyone involved that the tea store was so close.

Gesturing towards Spice Tea, Fumiko directed the group carry effort towards the shop. "It's cool- er, cooler in there. And the owner is nice, if we tell her that this girl has heat shyn... senu... shynkobi she should help." Fumiko wasn't exactly sure what syncope was, or where that word came from, but it sounded severe.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by HereComesTheSnow
Raw
Avatar of HereComesTheSnow

HereComesTheSnow Can you hear me, pilot with the Three Strikes?

Member Seen 7 hrs ago

Iwao - Eastern District


Should have seen that coming.

A frenzy had well and truly started now, the going offers ratcheting higher and higher...

4200!

4300!

4500!

4800!


Aaaaaand careening right out of Iwao's workable range. As the singular, lone minnow amongst a swarm of sharks with fresh chum in the water, he knew his hard ceiling of 5000 yen wasn't going to cut it— Not with the multitude of established housewives joining the fray. Oh well. Was a bit of a long shot anyway. With the usaual window of opportunity fast drawing to a close, when there was a crowd like this they'd fight tooth and nail for anything they could get their hands on. Iwao was outgunned, simple as that. No point in fighting it.

Plainly, amidst the cascade of numbers that sailed in towards one of Tenoroshi's most experienced auction ears (heh), young Arizawa unfurled the note, contemplating the perfectly legible, eminently reasonable price. Even in his haste, while distracted by this impromptu bout of multitasking, Captain Belo's penmanship and folding skills were impeccable. While weighing options, the blonde idly compared it to his own undisciplined scrawl in the back of his head.

Guess that tracks. He did have to issue orders through origami cranes while under heavy enemy surveillance...

1200 a pound worked, especially with such a frenzy surrounding the unagi. Snapper wasn't quite the storied delicacy compared to the eels, and he'd not really heard of its myriad health benefits, but a catch was a catch. Fish oil was good for midterm time, right? So long as they got it, Belo's fresh catches weren't stinkers.

He pocketed the note, trading it for his wallet. When the good Captain's eyes passed over him next, he nodded and held up three fingers.

It ought to be enough for everyone.
Hidden 2 mos ago Post by OwO
Raw
Avatar of OwO

OwO what's this?

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago



Northwest District


With a less than great heave ho, the two of them lifted the conked out girl. Aya made sure to get a good grip. After all, dropping the girl on her noggin' was probably a horrible idea. Traumatic brain injury stunted brain growth. Probably. She didn't actually know if that one was true, but it definitely sounded true. She'd believe it if someone told her it.

The worried look on Fumiko's face almost made Aya feel guilty. Almost. It was just a joke, after all. No police officer would arrest the two of them for trying to get a heat-stroked girl to safety. Probably. Most of them had something better to do. Still, announcing that it was a little white lie would probably distract the entire getting-the-girl-into-shade deal, so she would hold off on squelching her worries.

For now, she'd just do what Fumiko offered: getting the girl into Spice Tea so she wouldn't die in some freak, chased-by-bookstore employee accident.

"Easy does 'er," Aya aimlessly said to herself. She really didn't want to drop the kid, especially on the hard concrete sidewalk.
↑ Top
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet