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Multiple Settings ㄒ卄乇 千尺ㄖ几ㄒ




hayashi yoshio.





































  • mood



    vengeful
















Yoshio sucked his teeth in frustration as he worked the cloth over the knives' gleaming steel. It looked like there wasn't much for him to guess a motive. And if there was, clearly Mei and Yuusuke weren't going to share it.

He had a feeling that Hani taking Kage and Kazuo out within the last hour of work had to do with Saori's death. But until he actually reveals the autopsy results, the remaining employees could only speculate who the rat might be. Yoshio was especially wary of how easily tension was spreading among them now that the "back business" was on hold.

The three people currently polishing silverware and menus had one thing in common: they love making the yakuza feel pain. Mei had a bloodlust that eclipsed his old partner, and her pleasure in torturing her victims was so fervent that it almost leaked into the front business. But that didn't mean Yuusuke lacked the same sadistic streak—he was just better at containing it. Yoshio wouldn't be surprised if either of them began to experience withdrawal symptoms after a month without slaughter. Or maybe that was just him.

Though the Red Moon Bar grew more hostile than it usually was, Yoshio was still confused about the circumstances of Saori's death. He doubted that any of his colleagues would be sloppy enough to leave evidence, especially since most of them were trained to be as efficient as possible. It would've made more sense if they quickly disposed her body before rigor mortis could happen. Even if the killer did want to make a statement, she was just a sweet and sensitive young woman, not a "valuable target" as much as he hated how dehumanizing it sounded. If anything, poor Hani was the biggest target out of all of them, judging from how everyone's livelihood was tied to him.

With Saori gone, who will be the next victim? The question gnawed at Yoshio, a relentless specter haunting his thoughts as he polished the knives, each stroke feeling heavier than the last. Ever since he started working at the Red Moon Bar, he swore to remain there until every loose end was tied, every threat extinguished, and every debt paid in full. But with her death, it was only a matter of time before they came for the rest of them, destroying the foundation that Hanzo built from the ground up. And he'd rather have the rat pry the truth from his cold, lifeless hands than allow them to take anyone else.

"Welp, I just wanna make it clear that I'm not blaming anyone for what happened,"
Yoshio declared,
"You guys mean a lot to me, and I'm not gonna let that rat tear us from the inside out."


He abruptly placing the knife down on a cloth splayed on the host stand, making sure it was far enough for none of them to quickly reach.
"Even if some of you did hate Saori-chan, which I understand given her work ethic, I doubt any of you would overlook that letter if you did kill her. And besides..."


Suddenly, Yoshio wrapped his arms around Mei and Yuusuke's shoulders, before giving both of them an enthusiastic squeeze. The grin he wore was forceful and excited, stretching wide across his face like a coiled spring ready to explode.
"Once the back business reopens, I bet there'd be plenty of targets lining up for us to hit. Haha! Whaddya think?"
































pretty old man



no buses










♡coded by uxie♡
 


mood
uneasy
location
the bar
Interaction
shinju
Tag
@Nano


Kiyoko groaned, a mixture of boredom and frustration. The day had gone on for far too long. It was already grueling as Saori’s death hung heavy and oppressive over their heads, but, this only made it worse. Any other day, and other time, Kiyoko would have let the bitter words slip from her lips.

She hardly cared if she upset the uptight and self-rigorous Shinju. In fact, she quite enjoyed seeing the irritation blossom on her coworker’s face. It was just another thing to happily regal to Takara during one of their afternoon gossip sessions.

Yet, at the mention of explaining the situation to Hani—whose name she had thrown out first to gain an advantage—any semblance of winning this minor spat began to slip.

Guilt swelled in her chest as the fire in her began to dwindle, quelling enough that the raging flames no longer clouded her vision or decisions. There was no use burning out now, for something, no, someone, so trivial.
The words, which were once coated in pungent vitriol, died on her tongue. Hani had plenty on his plate, and just this once, she’d grant him the mercy of not adding more.

“Whatever,” she said, her words simple and dismissive. Her stomach twisted in this minor concession as if she had suffered so great defeat by allowing Shinju’s words to push her into actions she didn’t want to take. Actions she wouldn’t take, in the circumstances, weren’t what they were.

Kiyoko forced herself into action before the flames roared to life once again. Exasperation escaped her with an exaggerated huff. Kiyoko pushed past Shinju, not sparing the girl a glance. Snatching the broom that had been put away, making a show of sweeping, with flamboyant and exaggerated movements that did little to actually clean the floor.

She bit her lip, feeling the words that bubbled in her throat, as they pushed to be spoken whether she liked it or not. “You don’t have to be so sensitive, you know? It’s not a good look.”
fujiwara kiyoko.
© reveriee
 








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    omoide


    suzuki tsunekichi









    MASAMUNE




♡design by miyabi, coded by uxie♡
 
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