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Multiple Settings ㄒ卄乇 千尺ㄖ几ㄒ

Koba
The Dishwasher
Mind games were all colors, all swirls of beautiful disfigurement. Rorschach tests. Subjectivity failed to hold his interest. Masamune called out to him, and for once, he did have one idea. His gaze rested on Amihan. The little creep's eyes shamelessly lingered on the nape of Meifang's neck and then back down to the candy in her palm. Then, he felt something in his own. He looked down at a mint, the only candy he could stomach. The taste was sharp, fresh, clean. He unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. Maybe it would help with the stench of the body poor Masashi had to break down in the corner. Hierarchy-wise, front-wise, Koba was the lowest of the low. A dishwasher. While Masashi was higher in rank, yet he lived under the boot of Amihan. The owner had the gall to force him into degrading tasks before their very eyes, and Koba wondered what he asked him to in private.

He made eye contact with Masamune once more. It was longer than usual, as if trying to gauge if Masamune was on the same page. The smart thing to do was ask. Where Rin was a silent tundra, Koba was a remote desert. Sun and sand. Welcoming for a time, until thirst and boredom broke you down. Only strong men survived.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you all—or some of you, in the restaurant.”

They exchanged a glance, and Koba followed his friend. He gave a respectful bow of his head to Masamune. The Head Chef would never let Amihan's taunting go too far. Masamune had always been vocally against the owner's abuse on his "bad days". As they walked outside of the Warehouse, they left behind the smell of deceit and decay. Only the mint filled his senses.

"Thank you," he said to Yuusuke. For the mint, for the departure of the Warehouse, for the unspoken belief Koba was at least not the Rat, it was unsure of what he thanked him for. But it was important to Koba enough to speak aloud.
coded by reveriee.
 






ㄒ卄乇 千尺ㄖ几ㄒ
尺乇ᗪ 爪ㄖㄖ几 乃卂尺

A
CT I, SCENE III.
"AN ENVELOPE"
October 8th, 2002. 10 AM.
Three days after Araya Kenji's death. Over a month after Saori's death.

Takara investigated his lead with Natsuki: 209-1019, Minamitanaka, Nerima-ku, Tokyo. What turned up was a flower shop, old-fashioned with an elderly couple running it. It was modest and small, tucked away in the metallic and industrialized growing city. It was reminiscent of countryside simplicity. A break from all the business suits and flashing lights of Tokyo. The sweet old lady, who limped to the front desk to tend to the men.

Meanwhile, an envelope arrived at Red Moon, and Amihan opened it with Masamune (who was there to plan/swap out the seasonal menus) and Yoshio (who was there to put old menus away). What he saw in the contents sent him into a destructive rage.

Kage was a master of killing and even more so combat, but this could not possibly predict a syringe to the neck from behind. Kiyoko was only witness to it. He was giving her a scathing performance review on October 7th when two figures in black poisoned him and tried to take him. Her gunshots thwarted their efforts, and though she shot at their car while it was driving away, she was left with Kage feeling fainter by the second. So she called another big guy to help her: Masashi. And she knew that beaten dog would not refuse her, lest he face the wrath of Amihan. So, they lugged Kage to his home. Determined the poison was a mere sedative (for his size, maybe a horse tranquilizer). And stayed with him to the moment he woke up.

Kazuo is suspicious of Meifang for reasons unknown. In a public place for coffee that morning, he decides to speak with her. To gauge her. He knows women are Hani's weakness, and there can be no room for weakness in Red Moon.

Koba saw something he was not supposed to see October 7th while a duo tried to apprehend Kage. Koba saw something, and it has spurred him to talk to the one person he knows could not give less of a fuck about Red Moon. Most importantly, about the owner.

Yuusuke has had all he could take. No killing since Saori's death? He was on edge. His fingers itched to strangle, to pull a trigger, to wield a knife. Anything. That morning, he set off into the seedier parts of Tokyo's cities to search for a victim (only one affiliated with the yakuza). But Shinju would not have it. Shinju disliked the disruption of order. For back-up, she took Umeko with her to stop Yuusuke.


















 










scroll
shiraishi kage





home





kiyoko & masashi





CurryFlurry CurryFlurry & ven ven










Where am I?

Kage let curiosity and survival override the incessant pounding in his skull, a low groan escaping his lips. At least, he tried to. Everything was... foggy. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something?

Kiyoko's voice, tired and faraway, clued Kage's foggy mind. Right... a performance review. The blonde clicked his tongue once,
"Damn.. you'll do anything to escape a write-up, huh?"
His voice was low and groggy, his own lame joke making him chuckle dryly to himself.

Then, his body recognized the plush leather couch it had sunken into. It was his couch. Even though his limbs felt like lead, he reached out to his right, his hand making contact with the glass coffee table.

Yeah, definitely home.

He barely remembered how he got here. There are snippets of grunting, groaning, some curses. However, it was only when Kage rubbed at his eyes and blearily blinked them open that he realized Kiyoko had help. Masashi's help, specifically. The realization alone made the wry smile fall away from his features.

Masashi. Such an angry, resentful employee, and for good reason. Kage wasn't an idiot, he knew that this wasn't done out of the kindness of their hearts, but he was thankful all the same. Despite the flicker of gratitude, it was quickly overshadowed by his own frustration. His inadequacy. If Kiyoko hadn't been there, then what the hell would have happened? Who else was compromised? Did these mysterious attackers take a shot at Hani?

"Someone explain to me what the hell happened, now."




♡coded by uxie♡
 
mood :
Calm and unbothered

location :
A cafe
outfit :
mentions :
Meifang

interactions :
Dicentra Dicentra
Kazuo Matsuda
松田 和夫

The street was busy, people rushing past, heading to work after their lunch break, or hurrying to get to the shops. It was noon, and the sun was shining in a clear blue sky. Down on the street, crammed between two other buildings was a small, cozy cafe, several tables set out outside it’s premises where patrons could enjoy the fresh air. At one such table– the one situated toward the back, with the best view out onto the street itself– sat Kazuo, dressed in a sleek grey suit, his jacket draped casually over his shoulders.

He’d chosen this table deliberately. His own chair faced out, while the second one stood on the other side, which meant it’s occupant would have to face their back toward the street. It was a subtle move, and had it been made by someone else, the choice might have been put down to chance.

Upon the table stood two cups. One, still steaming, held Meifang’s drink of choice– Kazuo had already ordered for her, of course. The other, directly across from it, Kazuo slowly sipped from, a delicate tea held within. His golden-hued eyes scanned the street before him, and each time a passerby went before him, his eyes followed them until they disappeared. It was not paranoia– not when it was justified. Anyone could be a yakuza spy, from the smiling, red-cheeked couple walking down the street, to the elderly woman plodding along, to the young mother with her two children. And Kazuo was not so arrogant as to consider himself infallible and dismiss the possibility that he had been followed. No one was exempt from the scrutiny. There was simply no room for mistakes.

But, that had been the reason he’d chosen this cafe, and this table. He’d visited here before, not enough to be seen as a regular, but certainly so that his presence did not seem unusual in any way. The cafe itself was tucked in between an apartment complex and a laundromat, and the outside seating of the tables meant that the atmosphere was loud enough that a single conversation would easily get swept up in the noise. Then, of course, there were always the benefits of meeting in a public space. He had wanted to see how Meifang would react.

“Anything I can get you, sir?”

Kazuo glanced up at the intrusion. The waitress stood before him, her mouth pulled up into a professional smile. She was a pretty thing– short-cropped brown hair, expressive eyes; her uniform crisply creased. If he had been someone else, he could have seen that being appealing. His lips twitched up in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes– not that the waitress would notice.
"Thank you. Some more tea, if you could."


She nodded with a smile and went to refill his cup. He inclined his head in thanks to her as she turned away to attend to the other customers. His hands were crossed in his lap, one leg swung over the other, his hair swept back in a loose ponytail, today. His eyes traveled to his wrist where a simple watch was fastened. He’d arrived early, of course, but the time was ticking nearer and nearer to their agreed-upon meeting, and yet Meifang was nowhere to be seen. Still, he knew she would show up, eventually.

With a small sigh, Kazuo once more lifted his cup up and took a sip. Patience was a skill he had honed long ago. He would watch, and he would wait.
coded by reveriee.
 
ishida takara

the honeypot
W
hen he had revealed the note to Hani, and the distance it was from the bar, there had been some initial trepidation in sending him there. Takara knew why. It was outside their usual territory and venturing completely into unknown waters. There was simply no telling what was waiting for them at the address, and whoever went would be too far away for the usual back up.

It was how Takara scored not only Hani’s favorite car, but the company of Nana to go with him.

Car keys in hand, he sauntered up to the bar and dangled the plastic baggie with the note in front of Nana’s nose.
“I have a lead. It is a bit of a drive - but I got Hani’s convertible to take us there.”
He announced in a cheerful voice, eyes twinkling with mischief, as he handed over the note for Natsuki to read and get a better idea of what he was being dragged into.
“I don’t know what is on the other end, but that is Saori’s handwriting and that autopsy report gave us less than nothing.”


He knew that Natsuki would agree, so when he did, Takara could only grin.
“If this all goes well you can drive the car on the way back.”
He teased.

The drive to the address was filled with the radio being turned up to full blast on Takara’s favorite station. The blond gleefully singing along - sometimes poorly - to the popular songs that played. To anyone looking in from the outside, the pair looked like a couple of carefree young men out for a drive. No hint of their true task in their demeanor or looks. Even though the handwriting of a dead woman was tucked into the pocket of Takara’s jacket, as close to his heart as it could get.

Their flashy car immediately stood out as they arrived at the neighboor the address was in. Takara pulled up the hood and exchange a look with Natsuki.
“Why in the world was Saori here. It wasn’t for a job.”
He questioned, having cross-checked with Hani and Kage to make sure first thing. She didn’t have any known acquaitences here either, at least none that anyone at the bar knew of. It made this entire area even more suspicious. Takara did not want to think that they were walking into a trap. But he had an uneasy feeling regardless.
“Stick close together when we get out of the car? Just in case?”
He suggested, not necessarily worried - but unwilling to put Natsuki in danger of this lead.

As they pulled up to a flower shop that seemed entirely out of place, Takara exited the car and locked it behind them.
“Flowers? Did Saori have a girlfriend we didn’t know about?”
He asked idly as they approached the front door.

The inside was old fashioned and well-worn, but clearly well cared for at the same time. The smell of bright, fresh flowers filled the small space and Takara did not resist taking a deep inhale.

“Good afternoon boys, how many I help you?” The soft, sweet voice of an elderly woman came from the backroom as she slowly shuffled towards the front desk. A warm smile on her face.

Takara was immediately glad it was he and Natsuki that came, two people with a lighter touch. If this was really just some grandmother running a flower shop, he didn’t need any of their more headstrong members trying to bully her.
“Hello ma’am, I was actually hoping you could help us with looking up an order our friend ma -”


Before he could finish, the door to the shop slammed open hard enough for the old woman to flinch and the door to slam off the opposite wall. The source of the commotion was three men, dressed in stereotypical yakuza cheap suits and sneering faces.

“Oi, woman. You didn’t pay your protection money this month.” One spit out, barely looking at Natsuki and Takara. “Pay up or you know what we have to do.”

The old woman shuddered with fear, looking nervously at the men and then Takara and Natsuki. The worry was evident in the lines of her face. “We paid what we could.” She explained weakly. “We have nothing left.”

Following her gaze, the yakuza looked at Natsuki and Takara and sneered. “Clear out you fairies, we’ve got business here.” He ordered.

At that, Takara turned and looked at Natuski, his eyebrows raised. He knew exactly how he wanted to handle this issue.


outfit:
location:
flower shop

 
The Chef.
‟Rin”

The conversation on the phone was brief. A single text sent by the silent dishwasher.

‘Coffee shop?’

A moment of prolonged silence urged the sending of a second message, ‘Saw something. It’ll be worth your time.’

Koba knew Rin was prone to ignoring whatever messages were sent to her number if they were deemed an encroachment on her time, idle chatter was something the four-eyed chef was known for not entertaining. If he couldn’t catch her attention the first time, then any other attempts to reach out were left without response.

But luck was on the man’s side. Emerald eyes traced the electronic screen of the phone, the brisk clicking of the buttons cementing themselves in Rin’s ear as she typed up a simple reply.

‘Sure.’

. . .

Rin arrived before him. The familiar scent of coffee graced her nose, almost serving as a welcome to the quaint shop. Several tables were sprawled across the floors, and Rin in her usual ways, picked the one farthest from the lingering bodies—the one ensconced in the back.

She settled in the chair closest to the back wall, her gaze occasionally dashing to any waiter who had begun to approached her table. Before a greeting could leave their lips, Rin, with a flat tone, would wave the intrusion away, never bothering to continue the exchange further.

She hates the taste of coffee. Koba should’ve known.

Nevertheless the low murmur of the shop continued. An accompanying ambiance as the thoughts flowed through Rin’s mind, she crossed her arms as her view remained fixed on the entrance.

Despite the blatant disregard she had for the bar, she still held a level of curiosity; curiosity only rooted in whether or not Rin had become the next subject of the bar’s whispered rumors. Koba was the ear, the one who spent more time listening than rambling on with his peers. He was approachable—closed off—but easy to vent to regardless. That made him the easiest to draw anything out of.

Rin was sure whatever he decided she ought to hear would be important. If it were any way related to the scenarios she made up in her mind, then even more so. With one leg resting over the other, she waited.

Finally, the door swung open once more, a familiar tall figure emerging from the bustling morning streets. A deft wave of her hand caught the man’s attention, and as he began to approach, Rin spoke to him plainly, “If you want coffee, order it now. The waiter won’t be coming to this table.”

e v i e v i
coded by reveriee.
 
Last edited:
Hani
The Owner
He was there in the office for a less administrative purpose than he'd liked to be. Maybe one of his apartments did not suffice, and he wished to see Kazuo, but the man claimed he had "business". Kage and Kiyoko did not answer their phones, which was odd. For them. He would have investigated more, but he assumed both were sulking due to not having any action since Saori's death. A cigarette hung from his lips as he started to sift through the stacks of paperwork. Conversation was sparse. Maybe Masamune and Yoshio deliberated about the menu change. Maybe the apathy from the Owner himself of service quality was a damper in the cramped office. Cramped only with all three of them. The ash of his cigarette fell on a bill, and he tossed it aside for Kage's eventual attention to it.

Another bill. Another. Spam mail. Maybe one of them muttered about setting off the smoke alarm, but Amihan paid it no mind. His thumb paused over an envelope, and he raised a brow. A frowny face was on it, two dots for eyes and a sad line. He opened it and tugged out three papers. Pictures. Small polaroid pictures. Hani pushed up his glasses and stared a long while, the cigarette burning away, pieces of its corpse dribbling down to the desk. He blinked.

"What the fuck?" he said quietly, and then he screamed it, jolting maybe his two employees from their focus.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he screamed, standing and kicking the desk down. The contents fell off, a pile of mess and papers and menus filling the floor.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. You've gotta be fucking -- FUCK!" the small owner exclaimed, throwing the photos and denting a nearby metal bookshelf with his fist. Files fell, the ones Kage probably organized by date.

On the floor lived the photos. Three photos of Uehara Yosuke. One photo of him alive in some warehouse, his hands tied behind his back, staring tensely at the camera. One photo of a gun pointed at his forehead. The final photo was his body, eyes open wide as the contents of his head leaked out onto concrete. In the compartment of the desk was a butcher knife -- not quite his style -- but he brandished it and pointed it at the Head Chef and former FOH Manager.

"Did you do it? Did either of you do it?" he asked frantically, his eyes wide with madness.
coded by reveriee.
 
CHEF
Yuusuke


The Yakuza were a disease in Tokyo's underbelly, but Yuusuke would consider them more similar to roaches. Once he crushes one under his foot, hundreds come out scattering from its corpse like a plague. They were never-ending and similar to him; death was as natural to them as breathing. One or two missing people shouldn’t cause too much alarm. Yuusuke made his way towards the red-light district, hoping to scratch an itch like most of its patrons. But unlike them, instead of the cheap thrills and the smell of even cheaper perfumes, his body craved for something deeper. Still, the sun was just about to set, and it seemed like he was too eager to satisfy his needs. He had waited weeks for this moment and he could spare a couple more hours. The streets became livelier as the sun continued its descent and when the sky was completely dark, dazzling lights filled the area as if the day hadn’t ended at all. Yuusuke, now holed up in a random alleyway, surveyed the area for a potential hit.

He shouldn’t have to wait long. His target wasn’t the one that would frequent the red-moon bar. Instead, they were the collectors, the errand boys at the very bottom of the food chain. The ones that could only hope to buy a couple of minutes in a whorehouse. And just like fate, a burly man with too much confidence—for someone who didn't last an hour, comes out of the building opposite of the alleyway he’s posted at. Yuusuke was too familiar with their kind, how they walked in the middle of the road without a care and their eyes—like the barrel of a gun with how they stared people down like it was a threat. There was also the glimpse of a tattoo on man’s nape, not fully colored and making him the perfect target.

The man made his way towards the alleyway he was in and Yuusuke kept his eye low to the ground. His heart mirrored the hasty steps of his target, and it took all his willpower to stop himself from reaching out to his knife as soon they were in front of him. The smell of alcohol and cheap perfume filled the air as the man moved past him before turning a corner.

5... Yuusuke eyed his surroundings one last time and he thought he saw one or two familiar faces, but the man was too excited to care.

4... The knife was a comfortable weight in his hands. Freshly sharpened and shined just for this moment.

3... He could hear a sigh of relief as he neared the corner accompanied by a harsh stream splattering against the wall.

2... Yuusuke was at his limit. The pressure that has been building up since Saori’s death was threatening to burst out beneath his skin. The tease of a desire he could almost taste but was always just shy of his grasp.

1... He neared the corner, his body winding tighter and tighter until—

 
Last edited:
Koba
The Dishwasher
Koba did not like coffee. It set his mind and body abuzz with urgency. For what? He did not know. Rin and Koba were both adults, both restaurant workers, and those adults met at coffee shops, especially on a late Tuesday morning. He did not overthink. He would underthink. Neither of them liked coffee, and that was fine because neither of them were there to drink it. He took the train to their meeting place and found her in the back. She always caught attention, at least in Koba's opinion. Her eyes, though dull in energy, were a striking emerald. He locked his gaze on them and approached, never taking his stare off her. The man sat across from her. Her clipped tone was nothing new.

If you want coffee, order it now. The waiter won't be coming to this table.

Koba shook his head. His eyebrows lowered, as did the lid of his eyes, and he turned to look at the patrons. They chattered away. Their clean lives laid out before them, polished at every good decision they made. Koba thought this but could not find an eloquent way of describing it. The only thing he could feel was stained. He cleared his throat and looked to those emerald eyes again.

"There was a man in Hani's office last night at Red Moon, around 2 in the morning. I only went there because I forgot my lunchbox in the fridge," Koba said. It would be out of character for anyone else to go to their workplace at 2 in the morning for their fucking lunchbox, but not for Koba. He was meticulous about his food and routines -- he needed his stepmother to pack his lunch in his certain lunchbox. He looked at his fingers.

"I heard them talking and eavesdropped. Hani was drunk, but the man was not. I saw them through the kitchen window. Couldn't catch what they were saying, but I saw something: Hani handed a picture of Yosuke and Natsuki to the man and made a finger gun motion," he said and looked at the wall.


coded by reveriee.
 






Meifang 'Mei' Li


First, it was a call from Hani a few days ago. Now, Kazuo was summoning Mei to a cafe. All her superiors seemed to be calling upon her lately, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. Why was upper management so focused on her all of a sudden? Had she messed up somewhere? Was it because she’d left her last crime scene a little messier than usual? It wasn’t her fault the target had sliced his own throat to avoid giving her the information she needed. Honestly, it had been a boring job anyway - no flair, no excitement. Just another spineless coward trying to cheat her out of what she wanted.

The thought made her groan as she combed through her knotted hair, wincing as the brush snagged on a tangle. "It better not result in a pay cut.." She sighed under her breath, her words half a plea and half a grumble. That would be the worst - especially since she needed the money for her ever growing hair clip collection. She couldn’t exactly add the latest Plum Vernis design to her display without her full paycheck. With a resigned moan, she grabbed her coat and headed out, silently praying this meeting wasn’t about to ruin her carefully curated collection dreams.

The cafe was bustlingly roused, alive with the clatter of glass mugs meeting wooden tables and the melodic hum of lighthearted gossip. Servers moved briskly through the space, flipping through their notebooks as customers rattled off coffee orders laden with substitutions and adjustments so elaborate they barely fit onto a single page. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of warm pastries, wrapping the shop in a comforting charm that felt both inviting and homelike.

Mei raised her hand in a brief wave as she spotted Kazuo seated in a tucked away corner, two steaming drinks waiting on the table in front of him. As she made her way over, her pace faltered as her eyes settled on the seats. Her gaze flicked to the one clearly meant for her - positioned with its back to the bustling crowd. She blinked once, then twice, processing the arrangement. It wasn’t often, if ever, that someone in their line of work would intentionally leave a colleague vulnerable like that. Kazuo knew what he was doing.

Her smile tugged at its corners, wavering just enough to betray her discomfort as she slid into the chair. It was a small thing, she told herself, just a seat - maybe more. Her hands brushed against the edge of the table, fingers drumming in rhythm as her thoughts raced. Was she really in trouble?

To keep her hands occupied, Mei reached for the drink she had requested in advance - a hot caramel macchiato, the sweeter the better. She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug and took a sip. The coffee burned her tongue, but the pain was better than breaking the silence. But even with a few sips, Kazuo still said nothing. She had to say something. The silence was unbearable, and the anxiety of a potential pay reduction gnawed at her like a persistent itch she couldn’t scratch.

She forced a smile up at him, the kind her eyes didn’t follow. It wasn’t warmth she offered, but something detached - a blank mask with upturned corners, perfectly unreadable. A shield, as much as the coffee was a distraction. “So..” She began, her voice light and even, the blend of curiosity and politeness. “Am I here because of… anything specific? Or should I just assume the worst and start budgeting now?"





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 


mood
annoyed
location
kage's house
Interaction
kage, hani's dog
Tag
leviohsa leviohsa CurryFlurry CurryFlurry


Bi-monthly performance reviews were something Kiyoko loathed. Not that repercussions would befall her, but the meetings always ran far longer than she cared for. It was supposed to be her day off, but a scheduling conflict had her arriving at The Red Moon in the early afternoon. She was ready to deliver her standard performance—confessing her mistakes, vowing to improve—despite Kage’s skepticism.

In hindsight, meeting out in the alley was a terrible idea. Kiyoko hoped she could shift the meeting into one more concise, convincing Kage to just lay it on her with no need for the mock show of change. The plans she had to go shopping with a few friends outside of The Red Moon’s circles certainly aided in her desire to end the interaction sooner rather than later. Maybe Kage had the same idea. He had agreed to it, after all.

The men appeared out of thin air. Their hands moved quickly, grabbing and stabbing with a precise hand. Kiyoko drew her gun, initially thinking a blade had stabbed Kage, but when the man’s hand lifted, it revealed a syringe. Certainly, the lesser of two evils, as the stab would have more than likely resulted in her favorite general manager’s death. The implication suggested something even more sinister than cold-blooded murder. A shot struck out, ringing from Kiyoko’s weapon, only managing to maim, but not mortally wound the target. The alleyway was far too cramped and with Kage’s swaying body taking up more of it than she’d like; it was the best she could do.

As if fearing the attention from the commotion, the men retreated, their vehicle peeling away, leaving the two alone once again.
“You okay, big guy?” She asked, frowning when Kage only mumbled about their performance review as if that somehow mattered now. “Just sit down. I’m not catching you if you fall.” She ordered, before pulling out her phone. She couldn’t deal with this on her own, and with a grumble, she scrolled through her contacts.

“Dog,” she said, the derogatory nickname slipping from her tongue with ease. “I have a mess you need to clean up. If you’re quick about it, I’ll tell Hani to give you a treat.”
⊹⊹⊹🗡⊹⊹⊹​

Kiyoko had barely uttered a word to Masashi, only directing him on where to place Kage’s body. Even as they waited around awkwardly for Kage to wake up, she remained preoccupied with her phone. Spamming countless crying emojis to her friends as she canceled her plans.
When Kage finally stirred, she’d grown far too tired of the situation. Anger at herself for not hitting at least one fatal shot, annoyance at Kage for ruining her day off—which she would make sure Hani repaid.

“You go stabbed and not in a fun way.”
fujiwara kiyoko.
© reveriee
 
mood :
Curious enough to revive the cat

location :
Lovely Flower Shop
outfit :
mentions :


interactions :
buckybaernes buckybaernes
Sexy Bartender
Natsuki
Honestly, when Takara approached him, Natsuki already knew that some primordial spart of his brain was already planning to agree with whatever request his friend would approach him with. There has never been a time where the two men were not able to make the most out of any dull situation presented them. Granted there was a time where a drunken customer had decided that the two, tall pretty boys should be referred to as "The Twin Towers". For blatantly obvious reasons, that name did not catch on with the staff or any customer that was present for that dumpster fire of an interaction.

Natsuki listened intently to what Takara told him for all of 6 seconds before he lifted his hand as if to cut him off, "You had me the moment you said that we would be driving in Hani's little hamster mobile, I can only hope that there's plenty of leg room for us." Takara placed the note in Nana's outstretched hand, and he gave it a quick once-over. The gears in his head began a tumultuous spin cycle as he began to think how any of the past occurrences could all be linked together. And with the obvious sense of distrust that some of the other members cast on each other, everything was beginning to become more of an irritant for Natsuki. He allowed his thoughts to settle before offering Takara a familiar catty grin in response to potentially driving them back. Natsuki's love of a speed was common knowledge and knew that the idea of him being behind Hani's wheel would probably drive the older male into an early retirement.

Their combined energy in the car was electric as both men began to sing along to as if they were on a leisure drive through the city. They earned themselves a few interested glances at stoplights as Natsuki had his window fully down. He wasn't a terrible singer, but you definitely wouldn't catch him releasing an album anytime soon. Those that deemed them interesting enough to look at either found themselves laughing at the duo or infatuated with them. The lighthearted aura around them continued as they approached the designated address. Natsuki was instantly intrigued and excited at the flower shop that seemed to sprout from the surrounding buildings the way a stubborn weed would eventually make its way through concrete. Upon hearing Takara's question, Natsuki shrugged his shoulders in response, "As someone that didn't know her too well, maybe she was looking for an apology gift or a present for her partner. I don't think that whoever owns this would be of any close relation to her, enough to warrant a rather rushed last visit."

Upon entering, they were greeted by an elderly woman that seemed to be dwarfed by them. Natsuki did as expected of a trained killer, analyzed the woman's overall appearance, any potential ambush points within the quaint store, and listened intently for any other sign of human life that may have been concealing its presence. Everything seemed to be fairly normal, so Natsuki was able to let his genuine personality shine through as he gave the woman a bright smile and a respectful head bow. As Takara took the lead, some sort of bottom-dwelling thugs sauntered in and began to accost the sweet woman. Natsuki had maintained his aloof aura but failed to do so as one of the sentient insects referred to them as fairies. The redhead doubled over in hard laughter, "T-That's an interesting way of saying he finds us attractive Taka. Fairies were known for tricking and seducing humans in a variety of cultures. Unfortunately, I'd say that they had to have some sort of judging scale where anyone that resembled a creature that clearly snuck onto our plane of existence and had an intellect enviable by a goldfish would not be on the bewitching list."

Natsuki approached one of the yakuza members with a calm demeanor before quickly plunging a knife, one he grabbed from his ankle while he was laughing earlier, in-between the man's 4th and 5th rib. The tip of his knife was precariously grazing the bottom of his thrumming heart and Natsuki made sure his body was blocking the older woman's view. His breath caressed the man's ear as he leaned in to speak in a hushed tone, "I recommend that you use the bravado that you managed to summon from your small sack to lock your knees in place unless you'd love to me the pleasure of puncturing that racehorse heart you have in your chest. It should be possible with the rather interesting toxin that's causing your vocal cords to remain paralyzed along with some of the more delicate muscles in your eyes and extremities." Natsuki offered Takara a broad grin and tilted his head in the direction of the other problem-maker, "You can have fun with the other 2, or we could halfsies on one. Hani's gonna give me another lecture if I try to hog all the points for myself, he said it wasn't very 'teamly' of me the last time I told him I could handle it." Nana rolled his eyes at the memory of a small Hani seeming to puff up like an angry Pomeranian when Nana had tried to take his targets back to his TTC, Toxic Training Camp, to be experimented on.

coded by reveriee.
 



hayashi yoshio.





































  • mood



    baffled
















Despite the critical situation they were in, there was at least one thing to look forward to: harvest season! The restaurant wasn't their main source of income, and the employees here weren't the most... passionate. But that doesn't mean they should neglect it entirely.

Yoshio was helping Masamune replace the old menus with the updated ones with in Hani's office. Compared to how gruesome Sunday's warehouse meeting was, this task was incredibly mundane. But it was a welcome change of pace, something that the older man needed until the assassination business finally opens again. Yoshio leaned back in his chair, the click of the menu covers echoing the room. The fresh scent of ink and paper filled the air, grounding him in the present, away from the tension that had been suffocating him within the past month.

He let out a deep breath, stretching his arms above his head as he looked around the small office, a perfect fit for the new owner. Aside from the three men inside, the low hum of fluorescent lights above was the only sound, a stark contrast to the buzzing noise of the bar just outside. However, that moment of silence came to an end when Hani started cussing while going through one of his documents.

"Hani, you good?"
Yoshio asked, concerned about his boss' mental state after juggling the rat situation and the restaurant business at the same time.

Hani was, in fact, not good. He immediately kick the desk to the ground, scattering papers and menus across the floor. All that time organizing them had gone to waste, but the head chef and former FOH manager were lucky that they didn't get crushed by the desk's sudden collapse. Yoshio thought it was one of little Shiratori's tantrums again— where he gets extremely violent in one moment and then showers them with affection and gifts the next. However, it soon became clear that he was dead serious as he pulled out a butcher knife in one of the drawers and pointed it at them.

"Did you do it? Did either of you do it?"


Rather than being scared, he was just confused at the accusation. The boss wasn't accusing them of being a rat, was he? Especially not Yoshio of all people, who loved Red Moon to the point of throwing away his chance to retire. Regardless of how he felt about Hani's words, the older man was set on stopping Hani waving that knife around and causing a bloodbath. As long as he continued to act casual towards him, he'll at least buy enough to block Masamune from harm.

"Hani, Hani, Hani,"
Yoshio sang, closing the distance between them and raising his hands in preparation.
"Look at you, always so intense! I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but take it easy. You’re too young to give yourself a heart attack!"


If it was anyone else, Yoshio would've popped his elbow and slammed him on the ground without a second thought. However, this wasn't just anyone else he was facing: this was Hanzo's son. No matter how erratic he was, he cared too much for both of them to lash out.

His eyes wandered around the room in search for an item he could use as a distraction, before landing upon the scattered photographs on the floor. His breath caught, and for a moment, everything around him seemed to blur out of focus. The photos were unmistakable—three distinct images, each one of them depicting Yosuke within the final moments of his life. No one here was as disinterested in the assassination business as he was, and he always had that distant expression whenever he was serving. Yet his eyes looked so huge and full of terror... He was finally able to leave Red Moon, but at what cost?

"Hani,"
he called out, his voice still calm, though a sharp edge began creeping into it.
"You don’t want any of this. No one here does. Trust me, I’d hate to hurt you, but I will if you don’t put that damn thing down."


Seeing as though his boss still had the knife gripped tightly in his hands, there was one thing left to do. He lunged forward and grabbed Hani’s wrist, twisting it just enough to force him to drop the knife. With his other hand, Yoshio shoved Hani back against the desk, using his body weight to pin him in place. As the struggle settled, Yoshio turned his gaze to Masamune for help.

"Get something to tie him up! Quick!"
































pretty old man



no buses










♡coded by uxie♡
 
ishida takara

the honeypot
N
ana’s suggestions for why this flower shop of all places made sense. It was not the sort of high-end place that Takara would suspect a person to use when trying to impress a date or partner. It felt more like a location of convenience over anything else. But that just raised more questions, what brought Saori out here, so far, away from the bar and her own apartment.

Other people might have been worried when a bunch of rough-looking Yakuza walked in. but with Nana by his side, Takara didn’t even blink. The two of them were more than enough tot ake out twice this many. Even more so, when it was obvious that they were understating the two of them. A large grin spread over Takara’s face as Natsuki began to laugh, causing the stupid looking Yakuza to given them even more stupid, confused looks.
“You’re right, they are clearly complimenting us Nana. But if we are faeries what are they, ogres? Oni?”
Takara asked, giving his friend an amused glance, the shit-eating grin still on his face.

He stood still, hands in his pockets, as Natsuki approached the group. He only shifted his body to help block the old florist’s view of whatever was to come. She didn’t need to be an unwitting accomplice in all of this, after all. But he made sure he could see exactly what Natsuki was doing, he reveled in seeing his friend at work.

“I do love when you show off Nana-Kun, don’t worry.”
Takara assured when Natsuki promised him to have the other two. Who seemed frozen in shock, trying to figure out what Natsuki was doing to their friend.

Takara decided to take advantage of their shock and confusing. Rushing forward, he aimed a knee right in the crotch of one of the men to catch him in his most vulnerable spot. As he leaned forward in pain, Takara brought his knee up to the Yakuza’s nose - causing it to explode in blood. With his first victim down, he reached his hand into the man’s jacket and pulled out the poorly hidden gun that every Yakuza seemed to keep in the same spot. Pulling it out, he aimed at the uninjured man.

“Now. We can do this a number of ways.”
Takara started, clicking the safety of the gun off.
“I could kill you and each of your friends, and apologize to the nice old grandma for what we did to our floors.”
He began, grinning at the way the man’s face paled at the clearly very unwanted options.
“Or, you can take your two injured friends back home, and you don’t need to get shot.”
He offered, knowing that he had to at least try and be friendly.

“Finally, I can shoot you, somewhere non-fatal don’t worry, so you boss doesn’t do it when you get back.”
He offered, playing at being empathetic to the man even though there wasn’t a shred of empathy left for him.
“Pick your poison, or I’ll let my friend actually pick your poison.”
He explained, gesturing to the one terrified looking yakuza who couldn’t speak and had a knife sticking out from between his ribs.

There was a long pause as the only uninjured man looked between Takara and Natsuki, clearly weighing his options. But now outnumbered, and outgunned, he managed to make a fairly smart decision. “We-We’ll go.” He said, grabbing his two friends and pulling them away.

Smiling benevolently, Takara let them go, gun still aimed at them. Before Natsuki could scold him, he turned to look at the other man.
“Their boss is going to beat the hell out of them for not collecting and getting their asses beat, if not worse. It’ll look like he was working with us since he came out of it unscathed, his life will be hell.”
Takara explained cheerfully as he put the safety back on the gun and stashed it on his person. Another weapon that they could use to place the blame on the yakuza for their crimes was always useful.

“Plus I got a look at their license plate, we can go and take care of them later.”
He assured.
“I didn’t want to do anything drastic, lose our lead if the old woman reacted badly or god forbid calls the police..”
He said, voice pitched low so that only the two of them could hear.

Turning back to the old woman, gun now hidden, he bowed deeply.
“I’m so sorry they bothered you. I’m sure they won’t be back any time soon.”
Takara assured, a sweet smile on his face that made him look like a kindly grandson than a cold blooded killer.
“Now, can you still help us find some information about flowers that were bought by our friend? Saori.”




outfit:
location:
flower shop

 
Last edited:
Tuesday, October 8th, 2002
Migiwa
Shinju
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.

It was a proverb loved by a certain author whose works were frequently published in the literary magazine Shinju followed religiously. Though always featuring a dizzying number of Chinese proverbs, few and far between were used as a model for his stories, much less mentioned with such consistency. As for why such an author whose style didn’t suit her preferences caught her eye, it was because that favorite proverb of his reflected the way so many of the Red Moon’s employees loved to operate.

If Shinju were to ever claim that she paid keen attention to the actions of her coworkers, she’d be lying. So long as they didn’t act in ways that caused more work for her or jeopardized the Red Moon Bar’s existence, she didn’t care. What she DID care for, however, was the unpleasantly sharp look in Yuusuke’s eyes when she chanced upon him walking past her while on her way to the hostess bar of an acquaintance-slash-informant of hers. He was as quiet as ever, silently shuffling down the street in search of-

Suddenly, Shinju paused. Then, she quickly whipped around in the direction that the man had disappeared off to. There was something about him that seemed off, as if the anticipation perpetually smoldering behind those eyes of his had finally snapped.

While using the crowd as a cover, the black-haired woman began to walk in the direction Yuusuke had headed, having the fortune of catching sight of him right into a covert alleyway. It was a nondescript location, one that she’d hoped was obscure enough for nothing of note to come the chef’s way. Unfortunately, from the way he brought out a knife right as she peered into the dark alley, she could tell he’d spotted someone whose life he saw as forfeit.

Though she couldn’t quite make out who Yuusuke’s target was, she had no doubts that the person hidden around the corner was a yakuza, criminals she held no affection for. The problem was that she didn’t trust him not to leave a mess, and with the rat still skulking about, police attention was the last thing they needed. So was the potential for vengeful yakuza coming around to knock on their doors. Thus, the moment his muscles tensed as if preparing to strike, she herself crept into the alleyway from behind.

“Okay, none of that,”
Shinju warned in a low hiss.
“I swear. You lot are all so goddamned trigger happy.”
A hand, chilled by the cool air cloaking Shinjuku during nightfall, attempted to snake around and grasp at Yuusuke’s wrist. She intended to grip down hard—hard enough to dissuade him from striking at his target or herself but without forcing him to drop the knife and alerting the yakuza. Not that she had the confidence to exert enough strength to achieve the latter, anyway.

As Shinju continued her attempts to restrain Yuusuke, perhaps throwing in a kick at the back of one of his kneecaps in an attempt to break his balance, she listened keenly for any movements around them. Should Yuusuke break out of her grasp and commit to what he’d set out to do, she could only hope the instincts of the chef’s target kept both him and the Red Moon out of trouble.

Walk away. Walk away…


Walk away with that precious life of yours still clutched within your hands. The yakuza was nothing more than foolish prey who fancied himself as the hunter, completely oblivious to the danger that lurked around the corner—both literally and figuratively.
#yuusuke
Code by Nano
 
mood :
Inquisitive

location :
A cafe
outfit :
mentions :
Meifang

interactions :
Dicentra Dicentra
Kazuo Matsuda
松田 和夫

Kazuo lifted his eyes as Meifang approached; he noted the slight hesitance she displayed as she sat, the intelligence that filtered through her eyes betraying her understanding of this deliberate move. Good– that had been the point. His own expression told the rest of the story, a wordless dare– “While we talk, you’re going to have to trust me to watch your back.” And he would, of course he would. Meifang was still an employee of the Red Moon Bar, after all. For now, at least. The purpose was far more psychological– already, it had put Meifang on guard, made her feel both threatened and off-balance. That meant she was more likely to make mistakes, act on feeling and instinct instead of thinking things through. Each step, like a chain reaction leading her to trap herself in the web he spun… or perhaps a more apt comparison would be a rat caught in a trap.

His amber-colored eyes locked onto her hands, watching as she tapped out a rhythmless melody, a sure sign of nerves. It was strange, like always, to compare this anxious girl before him with the vicious hunter he knew her to be behind the mask. He knew she was a killer– all of them were. He would gladly wager that any of them were capable of committing Saori-san’s murder… at least the physical aspect of it. The question to ask then was would she do it? If Meifang was a traitor, a spineless coward willing to betray those she promised loyalty to, then what had tempted her? Were these nerves those of an employee or a spy who knows her game is up?

The woman spoke, and Kazuo took a sip of his drink. He slowly placed it down, adjusting the gloves covering his hands with an almost overbearing meticulousness. A pleasant smile stretched over thin lips, one that, just like Meifang’s, did not reach his eyes. He shook his head, all the gestures slow and unhurried.
“Do not worry, Li-san, you are not about to lose your job. And we aren’t interested in underpaying our employees either. There is no need to feel nervous, I assure you.”
He nodded at her cup.
“Please, do enjoy your drink. It’s all paid for already.”


He raised his own cup to his lips, and finished the dregs of the tea there. The silence hung for another few seconds, before Kazuo let out a soft sigh, and, surprisingly, allowed his usually stoic facade to melt into something approaching genuine. His eyes softened, his smile mellowed out into a slight frown, and a single worry line appeared on his forehead.
“Let us get on to business then. You are correct, I have asked you to meet me here for a purpose. I wish to discuss something rather… sensitive. I’m sure it’s a topic that has been on your mind: the death of Akiyama Saori.”


He tilted his head.
“As your supervisor, it is part of my duties to assess the ability of each employee to perform their job. That includes their health, physical or otherwise.”
His eyes flickered up to watch hers, almost seeming to bore into them with the steadiness of his gaze.
“Tell me, has Saori-san’s death affected you?”


Leaning forward, he laced his fingers together, tone calm and inquisitive, as though truly concerned for Meifang.
“I apologize, I can’t recall whether the two of you were close… But you were both servers, and she was a lively presence.”
An echoed memory flashed in his mind’s eye; a feminine voice, and the image of a dead body. He showed no sign of the grief that suddenly swelled within him, just cleared his throat and continued,
“I’m sure that you, like all of us, have felt the weight of her untimely demise.”

coded by reveriee.
 
The Chef.
‟Rin”

Umber eyes trailed the woman’s face, striking in nature, yet easy windows to see through. Koba wasted neither of their time, a quality only few in the bar possessed. As he illustrated the scene that unfolded before him the previous night, Rin’s expression turned to that surprise—a brief raising of the eyebrows, followed by her gaze quickly flickering away. This had nothing to do with the scenarios she had imagined in her head.

Paranoia, what a nuisance.

Still, Rin listened along with intent. Once Koba concluded, a lengthy silence, one only accompanied by only the idle chatter of the shop, reared its ugly head. Yosuke, his distance from the bar was evident, from the way he spoke to the look in his deep dark eyes. Once he was off the clock, then that was it. Their interactions were often brief and scarce in nature, yet Rin knew he didn’t care about the front. He wished to leave, one could piece together that much.

Natsuki was the complete opposite yet just as despised by Amihan nonetheless. The pearly writes, the cunning remarks that always managed to get under the owner’s skin, the incessant babbling. He was clever, the type to do what he wanted. Nothing like the yes-men that surrounded the half-foot day after day.

If the owner wanted to get rid of someone, those two would only make perfect sense. Amihan the schemer. For some reason, the idea didn’t phase her in the slightest.

Perhaps she was next on his list.

After a passing moment, Rin raised her head. Her eyebrows lowered as she replied with a cut tone, “What do you want me to do with this information?” She deadpanned, Rin knew she’d rather listen for whatever the man had to say than jump the gun.

“Shiratori isn’t as sympathetic as you thought, I fail to see how that pertains to me.” Her gaze remained fixated on Koba as she waited for his response.

e v i e v i
coded by reveriee.
 
mood :
Giddy, pleased.



--LOCATION HERE--

Hospital - Kage's Place
outfit :
mentions :


interactions :
ven ven leviohsa leviohsa [/USER]
BOH supervisor
Masashi

Masashi laughed gingerly, his shoulders slumping and he nodded his head in agreement to the nurse’s updates. His eyes drifted lightly around the room, and with an outstretched hand he smiled at his mother. His hand rubbed her back gently as he helped her sit upright, patting her as she attempted to stifle a cough. Concern painted over his face for only a second, melting almost instantly as she waved off the medical staff. It was nice. Days off were getting harder and harder to come by, resulting in him having to see her later and later in the day. But with some spare time before his shift he was happy to be able to pay her a visit. Though a twinge of annoyance- no guilt? Rang through his body as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He shut his eyes tightly, with every intention of ignoring it. Hoping that if he closed his eyes the nightmare would end, with an exasperated sigh he rose from his seat. Excusing himself as he stepped outside the room to take the call.

His eyes glazed over the caller i.d, his brows furrowing in utter confusion at who was calling him. He had nearly every number of those who worked at the Bar, after all his name was plastered in the back with his phone number written on sticky note with the words. ‘Janitor’ written crudely as if to be more of an insult than a title. He needed to be on call, after all he never knew where he’d be sent out next. What warehouse, what house, what alleyway. Rain or shine, night or day he was expected to answer like some kind of mutt obediently obeying his master’s every stupid command. The only difference was he wasn’t Kage. With a sigh he answered begrudgingly.

Dog-

He scoffed, if his eyes could roll entirely to the back of his head they would have. He could only offer a dry laugh applauding Kiyoko for the comment as she hung up. His eyes focused on the address that was sent to him, and with a sigh he pocketed his phone entering the room once more as he apologized to his mother about how he needed to come into work early. Something had come up- a half truth behind a pained smile. He couldn’t afford to say no.

-

When he arrived at the scene he turned to Kiyoko in disbelief, the situation being somewhat explained to him. His eyes fell to the unconscious lap dog that laid on the ground, and he couldn’t help but feel his lips curl slightly upward at the sight. Stabbed, sedated, bleeding out and unconscious. It was beautiful- like a work of art truly. He had to stifle his laugh as thoughts of Kage’s unfortunate death crossed his mind. But his excitement was snuffed out as he watched the lap dog’s chest rise and fall. What a shame. Though he didn’t take this golden opportunity for granted, sure Kiyoko wasn’t exactly Hani’s pet. Not as much as Kage, but he knew she didn’t entirely care for him as well. His eyes watched her carefully as he instructed her to get the car while he would handle Kage. He crouched, lifting Kage’s limp arm over his shoulder as he tried to stabilize the other, his eyes meeting Kiyoko’s as he shouted at her to get moving. Once she was out of his field of view he almost couldn’t contain the laughter that erupted from deep within him. He bucked his shoulder, shoving the heavy body to the ground as he rose to his full height, grinning down at the body as he rammed the heel of his shoe sharply into Kage’s side. A twisted pleasure racing up his spine in a shiver of delight- god it felt liberating.

The rest of the way back to “Kage’s home” was full of “little accidents” Masashi kept making. When they arrived he swung open the car door dragging out the limp body by its heels smiling like a kid in a candy store as he watched Kage’s skull collide against the floor of the car, only for him to catch him just before his head hit the pavement. Each time he’d turn to Kiyoko apologizing as sweat trickled down his neck. God- it had been years since he felt such a thrill. When they entered the home he accidentally hit Kage’s head against the door frame, and once again his hand slipped as Kage’s body slammed against the floor. To which he quickly lifted the other trying to hide the smile that begged to spread across his lips.

When they had laid the man on the couch Masashi wandered off, grabbing a few items from around the place knowing his fun would surely come to an end and he’d actually need to help keep the lap dog alive. A bowl of warm water, a rag, gauze, the basics. He quickly got to work, his vinyl gloves snapping against his hands as he examined the other’s wound. An injection site- hopefully the needle was at least sterile. As he worked he wrung the wet rag out dragging it against Kage’s face taking a closer look at the mark. Only to lean back as the other came through. A feeling of self satisfaction coursed through him, he felt as he had just gotten away with murder his stomach was twisting. Hell- he felt like a schoolgirl. A perfect alibi to his well deserved revenge. With a smirk he pressed his hand against Kage’s chest, forcing the other to lay back down. “Relax sleeping beauty, what does it feel like? Not as sharp as you used to be huh?” He laughed in Kage’s face, a smirk on his lips as he dropped the rag back into the bowl. “Little miss goody two shoes called for backup, looks like you were drugged. Nasty wound on you, I'm sure the runt’s going to cry when his prized lap dog returns injured.” His gaze snapped to Kiyoko as he motioned his hand. “Hey- stop texting your boyfriend and tell me exactly what happened before I showed up on the scene.” As his eyes returned to Kage he tried to stifle a laugh, clearing his throat as he feigned concern. “You took a real beating, what the hell did you both do to even end up like this?”




coded by reveriee.
 








  • click here
































    death


    Yoshihisa Hirano
    Hideki Taniuchi









    MASAMUNE




♡design by miyabi, coded by uxie♡
 
mood :
Curious enough to revive the cat

location :
Lovely Flower Shop
outfit :
mentions :


interactions :
buckybaernes buckybaernes
Sexy Bartender
Natsuki
If there was one thing about Natsuki, he always had an obvious appreciation for the physical prowess and technical fighting styles of his fellow members. Watching Takara quickly dispose of the yakuza thugs that finally seemed to realize that they were way out of their league in terms of skill and brains. There was something absolutely thrilling about seeing the bravado of a man crumble in front of one's eyes that really justifies their work. Keeping the streets clean one piece of garbage at a time, a low-level carnivore is nothing before an apex predator. The fear quickly overrode the strength that was brought on by adrenaline as the last remaining upright man scanned his surroundings.

The unfortunate soul that was still trying to fight against his paralysis had the gall to try and swing his useless extremities. His arms barely moved a centimeter before Natsuki lightly shoved the man back causing him to fall in front of his associate. Once Taka began to give them options of more bodily harm or leaving, Natsuki's whipped around with an alarming speed and offered him an incredulous look. He could not fathom the idea of letting these imbeciles go when they had clearly disrespected this sweet old lady and were clearly yakuza scum. "Now why would we ever-", Takara intercepted Natsuki's rebuttal with very sound reasoning. "...Okay, I see what you have in mind and it's truly devious. I just really wanted to make sure in the moment that no one would come back to bother our sweet Obaa-san here."

Natsuki straightened up and but his serene smile back on his face as he turned to face the confused woman. He followed in Takara's stead and offered a deep bow, not apologizing for their secretive violence but for the insolence of the men that had been bothering her. "There's no rush and if it's coming off as a bother we could always return at a later date when it's calmer. In the meantime, I can promise you that your shop will be safe from this point on, I believe that my fellow botanists should be able to practice their craft in peace. I know how much the environment that a bud grows in can affect its growth trajectory." The woman seemed to visibly relax as she realized that there was a shared hobby between her and one of the men that came to her aid. The politeness of the duo only aided in increasing her desire to offer the men anything that could aid in their search.

She held up a weathered hand and disappeared into the back, Natsuki shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to the tips of his toes as he awaited the woman's return. Natsuki looked around the store and admired the obvious love that went into the plants surrounding them. They all lovingly rose toward the light and proudly displayed their vibrant flowers. "Whatever reason that Saori came to visit, I'm thankful for it. Thanks to her, I may have found a few different lineages that I'd love to introduce into my own flower." The woman exited the back area of the store while Natsuki's continued to mentally check off which plants he'd come back for when they when they weren't in Hani's Mini Mobile. She placed a large binder into his hands that was open to a page dedicated to deliveries for a specific day. "It looks like Saori had made some arrangements of a flower delivery to a hospital. It'll be dropped off October 13th, which means there's 2 ways we could end up going about this. Either we go ahead and find the recipient of them, or Hani tells us to wait until the day of and follow up that way. I'm all for rushing in now but you know how meticulous our little Hani can be."


coded by reveriee.
 
Hani
The Owner
Hani was exceptionally skilled in combat, but could he take down the pile of muscle Yoshio was? Fuck no. Especially when he was not thinking straight. Especially when rage and madness swallowed him. When Yoshio restrained the little boss, he did what he could to break free. His sensibilities died, and he was driven by rage alone. It could be powerful. He put up a fight, screaming profanities at the two men until they wrestled him into a chair. Hani's free will was secured with zip ties, and that served to piss him off even more. Kage. Kage. He imagined his hands around that dog's throat, for not being at his owner's beck and call that day. If Kage were there, if only Kage were there. What was a sword without a shield? Arguably, Kage was both.

"Cut my tongue out?! Cut my fucking tongue out?! I'll cut your maggot-infested father out of his fucking grave and piss all over him!" he screamed, pulling at the zip ties as his crazed eyes trembled with insanity. His chest heaved up and down. The office was swaying, and the two men started to become blurs. It was unlike a man who felt no fear to feel overwhelmed. Overwhelmed was not the word Hani would use anyhow. It was something else. His eyes drifted down to the papers, to Yosuke's limp body in the photos, and he squinted.

Hani hadn't stopped pulling at the zip ties. He did so with such intensity and desperation that they began to cut into his skin. Redness pooled at his wrists, but the way his eyes glazed over, it was as if he did not feel it.

"I'm gonna kill you. You're both rats. You're both rats! I'll fucking kill you!" he screamed, the blood from his wrists starting to dribble down the sides of the chair. It could have been the heat of the room. The tension in his jaw. It could have been something only a doctor could diagnose, but blood started to dribble out of his nose. It raced down to his chin, small at first, and then it came gushing. His breathing was labored.

"Dirty old men. You killed her. You wanted her soul, you killed her together. You know--" Hani started to laugh, and the blood soaked into his clothes and the floor.
"That autopsy was bullshit, right?" he yelled.
coded by reveriee.
 
Koba
The Dishwasher
Rin, with her signature indifference, ceased to surprise Koba. Though his head was always in the dish pit at work, he listened. That little idiot would come in after a bad day and shower people with gifts or affection. A few times, all he would have to do is give Yuusuke puppy dog eyes and promise him a spectacular hit assignment later that day, and all was forgiven. Amihan's pull was odd. Most would sigh, pat his head, and forgive him for eternity. Surely their true loyalty lied in the ghost of his father and the Shiratori legacy. Take away Hani's power, bloodlust, and family line, and he was just a short fuck who made women uncomfortable by his very existence. Koba held back a grimace, and he noticed some crumbs on the table. He carried a travel-size Clorox wipe packet.

The man pulled it out and started running it across the cool surface. He did not look at Rin and focused on making the table shine.

"It pertains to you -- all of us in fact -- because he is taking out people he suspects have no blind loyalty to the bar," he explained, his eyes following the wet cloth. Yosuke made sense. He only talked about money, and his hits were committed with dispassion. Natsuki? It made a little less sense to Koba on the loyalty front but more on the personal front. Hani openly stated many times he would murder Natsuki. Mostly to his face. He had been stating that since they were children. That left a few others. Koba could suspect Rin, especially with her outsider status.

"Most importantly, he is hiring someone else to do it, and that someone else is likely yazuka. Unless you know another group who does hits for money," he muttered, and he stopped his wiping, looking into her eyes plainly.

"All I wanted to do was warn you. Have an escape plan should things head in a destructive direction. If you're the rat or not, it makes no difference to me. I don't want to see you die," Koba said, his eyelids lowering a hair. He probably said more words in that meeting than he had in months, which meant they were held in for a long time. Then, he admitted treason.

"I would like to see Amihan die," he stated.


coded by reveriee.
 
CHEF
Yuusuke


The moment Yuusuke felt someone grip his wrists, instincts took over. The hands were cold, almost what he imagined death's touch would have felt, and in the moment he figured it was just that. The man too focused on his target that he couldn't hear the yakuza's companion behind. He was cornered, but he won't go down without a fight and his blood won't be the only one spilled tonight. Yuusuke quickly turned around to retaliate with his fists, adrenaline rushing through his head, euphoria and fear mixing to make one intoxicating drug. However, instead of the usual arrogance behind their eyes, his assailant's were a familiar red. With Yuusuke's fist already mid-air, the man quickly redirected it away from his co-worker's face to the concrete wall next to them. A sickening crunch reverberated throughout the alleyway accompanied by his pained hiss. And they said he had no control.

"Who... the fuck... who’s there, huh?" The yakuza behind drawled, clearly intoxicated. Yuusuke bit his lips hard, the taste of copper replaced the bitterness his mouth was about to spew out. If looks could kill, both him and Shinju would've been dead already by the way they stared intensely into each other's eyes, willing for the other to back down. Yuusuke gestured towards the footsteps that were getting closer, but the hands on his wrist just got tighter.

"Heh, a buncha lovebirds... fightin' or somethin'?" The yakuza chuckled and Yuusuke's desire to cave their face in just got more intense. If it wasn't for the girl infront of him and his now useless bloodied hand, maybe he would've finished the hit already. With nothing else to do, Yuusuke simply glared at the man, hoping to rile them up enough to start something. Then maybe Shinju would have no choice but to let him go. Yuusuke was willing to sacrifice the first hit, if it meant he could retaliate with a knife in the yakuza's throat.

"I don't like the look in yer eyes, ya know? Do you even know who I am?" The yakuza leaned in closer, their breath making Yuusuke's brows furrow in disgust.

Yuusuke’s lips curled into a cruel, taunting grin. "Someone who couldn’t last ten minutes by the looks of it," he shot back, his voice dripping with venom. "Or was there no one in the entire district who could stomach being under you for that long?"

The yakuza froze for a brief moment, the words slicing through his drunken bravado. "You fucken—" Maybe it was the rabid look behind Yuusuke's eyes, or maybe the yakuza caught a glimpse of the knife on his other hand, but they stopped mid-sentence. Backing off slowly, they simply cursed Yuusuke one last time before scurrying out the alley. For a moment, Yuusuke didn’t move, his chest heaving with the intensity of the encounter. The girl in front of him hadn’t flinched, hadn’t spoken a word, and yet the silence between them spoke volumes. The danger had passed, but there was still a cold, electric tension in the air.

"What are you doing?" Yuusuke started, adrenaline rushing out his body but his voice still as venomous as before. The feeling of familiar disappointment replaced the rush from earlier accompanied by an annoying itch that's slowly becoming unbearable. "Shit-" the man tried to rub away the migraine that was already starting to form but a sharp pain of protest from his hand stopped him in his tracks. "-fuck!"

 
Last edited:






Meifang 'Mei' Li


The Kazuo that Mei knew was always quiet, a reserved mien. He stood apart, a gentler soul in a world that rarely rewarded kindness. Whether it was a sense of morality or simply his nature, Mei couldn’t quite say. But she found it curious - almost fascinating. He displayed emotions she simply didn’t possess. Things like genuine concern for a coworker’s life or the belief that coworkers were something more than just expendable allies. And even the word "allies" was pushing it.

To Mei, her job was nothing more than an outlet - a convenient way to indulge her peculiar desires during her spare time. The fact that she got paid for it was only a pleasant bonus. So when she caught Kazuo staring off into the distance, his gaze lingering just a heartbeat too long as he began to talk about Saori, it struck her as... inquisitive.

She didn’t understand it, not really. The weight in his voice, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes - it all felt foreign to her. Saori was just another coworker, someone who had come and gone, their absence as inconsequential as a drifting cloud. But to Kazuo, it seemed to mean something more.

"Close… mmm… we only spoke to each other at work. Nothing special! We both aren’t servers. I host, silly!" Mei said with a bright, almost exaggerated beam, her tone light and playful. She clasped her hands together for extra effect, as if the sheer act of clarification was meant to erase whatever implications Kazuo was trying to make. "You must be so worked up over what happened that you’re mixing things up."

Her words were breezy, almost dismissive, but her curiosity simmered. What was his angle here? Why was he trying to paint a picture of closeness that simply didn’t exist? It was odd - deliberate, even - and Mei wasn’t one to let something like that slide without scrutiny.

When the waitress returned to ask how they were doing, Mei requested the menu, giving herself something to do as she flipped through the plastic-wrapped pages. Her eyes skimmed the dessert section, searching for something to satisfy the sweet tooth her coffee had failed to tame. But her attention wasn’t entirely on the list of pastries. She glanced down at the table, her gaze shifting to Kazuo’s posture. Laced fingers rested casually, his shoulders relaxed in what seemed like an attempt to project ease. It was purposeful - maybe to make her feel comfortable, maybe because he’d already decided what he thought had happened and was trying to draw her into his narrative.

Either way, Mei wasn’t biting. She’d given him all there was to give. She’d never been close to Saori, never admired her, never invested in her life enough to care beyond the bare minimum. They were coworkers. Just coworkers. Not friends, not confidants, and certainly not close enough to justify the strange direction this conversation was taking.

Mei shifted slightly in her seat, letting the silence stretch just long enough to signal her indifference. Whatever game Kazuo was playing, she wasn’t going to offer him more pieces to work with.

As the silence stretched, the waitress returned with what Mei had ordered: a matcha croissant, perfectly flaky and ideal for dipping into her coffee, and a slice of vanilla cake topped with a single glossy strawberry. Mei’s eyes lit up as the plates were placed before her. The sight of the sweets almost made enduring this painfully dull conversation worthwhile. Almost.

She broke off a piece of the croissant, dipping it into her coffee with a grace that belied her growing irritation. For the most part, Mei couldn’t care less about Saori or what had happened to her. But the longer the conversation dragged on, the harder it became to mask her annoyance. Who even mourned over a bad employee getting terminated earlier than expected? Mei thought with a twinge of exasperation. It wasn’t as if Saori had been indispensable. In fact, Mei considered her more of a liability than anything else.

She took a leisurely bite of her croissant, letting the earthy sweetness distract her just enough to smooth over the cracks threatening to show in her demeanor. After, to taste her other treat, Mei cut a neat mouthful of her cake. She could feel Kazuo’s gaze lingering on her, watching her every movement with a quiet intensity. The attention wasn’t new - she was used to being observed. But that didn't mean it didn't feel like probing.

“I haven’t felt much of anything.” She answered lightly, her tone almost mischievous. Then, as if catching herself, she added with a teasing lilt. “But that isn’t exactly true for you, is it, supervisor?” She waved her fork at him for emphasis. Stoic mask or not, could it split?





/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 










scroll
shiraishi kage





his apt idk!!





masashi & kiyoko





CurryFlurry CurryFlurry & ven ven











Masashi's glee was barely contained, and it left Kage unamused, staring back at him as he pushed for answers. "Not as sharp as you used to be, huh?" A vision of Kage's hand reaching out and slamming the employee's head into the coffee table flashed his psyche, temptation making his fingers twitch.

Kage didn't humor the assassin with a response, and instead kept his lips in a flat line of disinterest, letting Masashi enjoy this moment. "...I'm sure the runt’s going to cry when his prized lap dog returns injured." Kage, in his usual fashion, simply let out a polite huff before replying,

"I am not Shiratori's responsibility, and you know it."
 His voice was more of a tired sigh, as his gaze turned to Kiyoko.

The younger woman was clearly unhappy to be there. And, frankly, the longer these two are in his apartment, the more a feeling of dread creeps into his gut. He did everything he could to keep work out of his home, and now he was back to square one. Would he need to move? He watched as she furiously texted someone.

More stifled laughter from Masashi made Kage wonder how angry Hani would be if he let his fists slam into his jaw, just to shut him up for a second. The sad excuse of a man was one of Hani's favorite playthings... it would cause quite the tantrum. Yet, he couldn't help but daydream wistfully, imagining the sounds his bones would make after a few hits.

You took a real beating.

Kage was sure something happened to him when he was passed out, but he didn't know what. Maybe there was combat he didn't remember? His head was pounding trying to remember the details. All he could grasp at were flashes of snickers, but that was all.

How infuriating. His only sources of information were from two employees that he damn well could not trust.



♡coded by uxie♡
 
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