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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 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
 








  • click here
































    omoide


    suzuki tsunekichi









    MASAMUNE




♡design by miyabi, coded by uxie♡
 










scroll
shiraishi kage





Warehouse K





Hani & Kazuo





e v i e v i & Helioflos Helioflos










"Please! I- I didn't-- I didn't even know the poor girl was m- murdered!" The familiar echoes of anger began to writhe its way through Kage's gut, making his jaw clench, his hands still at his sides. He knew the man was telling the truth. That he was simply in the way. But, God, was he putting himself on a pedestal.

Green eyes observed Hani's theatrics, then narrowing once the naked man began to slobber all over himself, revealing the ugly truth underneath the ignorance. Kage never understood the need or want to hear the Yakuza talk. It was tiresome, and always the same. When he was barely an adult, he liked to pummel his fists into his victim's jaw until it was broken, their tongues unable to form words. Anything to get them to shut the hell up and pay for their misdeeds. Memories flashed as Hani's bullet was fired, forcing the naked victim farther away from the trio.

The blonde didn't even flinch, used to the sounds of Hani's kills. It took a lot to get any of the two employees standing there to react to much, these days. It was Hani's voice that willed Kage to come back to reality, his gaze leaving the pathetic, screaming mess across the room to focus on his slightly offended boss. "Tell me. Who do you think is the rat?"

Kage stayed silent for a beat. Let the question hang in the cool air in the warehouse. Did he really have an answer? No. He didn't. Hani won't be impressed.
"I have been wondering if there even is a rat."
Kage's voice was low, tired.
"How do we know that it wasn't one of our newer recruits getting sloppy? Leaving traces? Regardless.."
Kage lit another cigarette, the habit gnawing at him as he recollected his thoughts on his number one stressor.
"It is a lot more complicated than it being just one of our own. And Red Moon is getting restless."


That is all Kage knew, really. Anyone could feel how tense it was at The Front. Paranoia is growing, and if this wasn't settled soon, accusations will be made. Lives will be taken. Kage took a drag of his own cigarette, before looking over to Kazuo expectantly. He was always the more level-headed of the three, and the General Manager knew that he might have a more definitive answer. Although, with how anxious he has been, maybe he didn't.

The thought alarmed Kage, though he would never show it. Kazuo tended to have an answer for everything. He was a constant. To see him falter is... unnerving.



♡coded by uxie♡
 
mood :
Impeccably serious

location :
Warehouse K
outfit :
mentions :
Hani, Kage

interactions :
leviohsa leviohsa , e v i e v i
Kazuo Matsuda
松田 和夫
He had been expecting this. The gunshots echoed out in the large and empty space of the warehouse, and it was as though Kazuo could still hear them long after they subsided. The chair had been sent backward, their target along with it, left to die slowly and painfully. Kazuo would have shot him in the head, personally, but he knew Hani-kun liked to let them feel the last minutes of their life.

“We will need to clean that up,”
was the first thing Kazuo said once both Kage and Hani turned to him. He had listened to both of them speak, silently taking in the information, and forming his own thoughts in the meantime.
“His blood will soak into the floor if we leave him too long.”


Practical thoughts, practical actions. Much better than speculation. It felt as though all he had been doing these last few days was speculating.

He sighed. He knew what they wanted to hear. He would indulge them.

“We cannot take any chances.”
He uttered, eyes still fixed on the dying man.
“If there is a rat, they must be found. So our only option is to operate under that suspicion. Otherwise, we leave ourselves vulnerable. You understand, that is not something that we can afford to do. Give the Yakuza an inch and they will leave us slaughtered in our sleep.”


Taking a pause, he adjusted the sleeves of his suit, ran a hand over the fabric in a way that helped ground him. His gaze focused on Hani, something in his expression softening for a split second before the cool and collected mask of indifference settled once more over his features.
“Beyond us all, it falls to you as the owner to investigate.”


He swallowed. This part was difficult for him to say.
“You cannot exclude anyone based on your personal feelings, Hani-san. Not even the two of us.”
His eyes flashed up to Kage-kun, a silent apology. He didn’t want to suspect the boy he’d grown up with. He didn’t. But he was practical. They couldn’t leave any stone unturned. He had to suggest it.

“The employees are feeling the uncertainty. The death of Saori-san,”
His voice very confidently didn’t waver on her name,
“Has shaken the trust and morale of the group. I think you must remind them that you can keep them safe. Perhaps even imply that we suspect the rat to be an outside influence– lull them into a sense of safety even if it isn’t something we can truly provide.”


He looked away.
“If even one of our own decides it is too risky for them to stay, they might jeopardize the whole operation. The rat might run. Others might fear being caught unjustly, and lash out. What we need is their compliance. Then, and only then, can we investigate…”

coded by reveriee.
 






ㄒ卄乇 千尺ㄖ几ㄒ
尺乇ᗪ 爪ㄖㄖ几 乃卂尺

S
CENE I, ACT II.
"CAT ESCAPED THE BAG"
October 6th, 2002. 6 PM, Tokyo, Japan. Warehouse E.
A day after Araya Kenji's death. Over a month after Saori's death.


Operations ran as normally as 5 AM bled into morning light. Once finished with their tasks, employees went home and spent their free time in whatever way they chose. They had Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off, and it would not be filled with back business assignments -- all of it had come to a halt. They were ordered to lay low, meaning murder was strictly forbidden. Sleep would be the wise decision to fill their free time. However, they each received an individual call from the owner from the span of 4 PM to 5 PM with instructions that could not be defied: meet at Warehouse K, 6 PM sharp. Once they did, dressed comfortably and out of uniform, they were greeted with two sights that would stun the ordinary citizen -- if only they were that. The now pale and bloated body of Araya Kenji, naked and dragged in the corner, leaving a trail and pile of blood. And in the middle of the room, a table with minimal refreshments and snacks. Mostly candy, Hani's favorite kinds. They were half eaten anyhow. The little owner stood before his employees, and he announced what they all had been wanting to hear: the autopsy results.

The letter was written. Then, alcohol (presumably champagne because of the half-empty bottle on the table). Sleeping pills. A bath. Strangulation marks. A staged hanging. All in that order, and then Amihan arrived 45 minutes later.

An undisclosed network of grunts who owed their life to the Shiratori family figured the cause of death and held the body on ice until the funeral, once all her secrets were extracted. All but one. The big who. His eyes glazed over the crowd. He did not take Kazuo's sound advice; he wouldn't be him if he did.

"A good question. Is the answer in the room?"

And with that, all but a few loyal hounds were dismissed. Front work exclusively was to resume Wednesday. There was an itch to kill. As dense as he was received, Amihan could see it in the faces of his employees -- as a mirror staring back at him.

















 








  • click here
































    山崎まさよし


    Masayoshi
    Yamazaki









    MASAMUNE




♡design by miyabi, coded by uxie♡
 
CHEF
Yuusuke


The soft bubbles of a simmering pot of water along with the sizzle and crackle of oil filled the room as the smell of freshly grated ginger stung Yuusuke’s nose. Even on his break, he was stuck in the kitchen, and he found that he didn’t mind it as much. His... withdrawals were getting worse, especially when he’s in his room alone with his thoughts so he figured cooking a meal would at least keep his hands busy and mind focused on something else.

Which was the reason why he currently has a chicken on the cutting board and other pieces of meat on the side, already butchered. At first, he thought butchering pork would do the job and help him get his mind off things. They were similar enough to the Yakuza, hearts a carbon copy of the other with their greed and glutton. They also seemed to squeal like pigs when met with Yuusuke’s knife. It did little to satisfy Yuusuke’s urges, however. Then was the satisfying crunch of chicken bone being split and separated but it still wasn’t enough. Their meat, too pale in comparison and the butcher beforehand already drained it of its blood. Usually, he kept a clear boundary between his work as a chef and as a butcher, but Yuusuke could see his cuts get sloppier by the second, knife cutting with the grain instead of against it. With each imperfect slice he could feel his annoyance grow and his grip tighten further.

A call, and after looking at the name, Yuusuke didn’t expect that there would come a day where he’d be glad to see Hani’s name on his phone. It was rare that he picked up on the second ring, even rarer that he uttered a simple ‘Thanks’ before hanging up. When he received the order to report to the warehouse, his excitement grew, and he went back to cooking with the hum of a random tune he heard on the radio.

The clock hits six and Yuusuke has been waiting near the vicinity of the warehouse for 30 minutes. The other members of the staff have already arrived, notably Masamune along with Masashi getting off the same car. Yuusuke followed shortly after, and the smell of the place hit him before he could even reach the entrance. He tried breathing in with his mouth instead, but the stench was so rancid that he could taste it in the air, almost making him gag.

The sight of the bloodied body disposed on the side made his heart race, however. It's been a while since Yuusuke saw a dead body and his eyes lingered over the figure of the man, trying to determine his cause of death. With Hani involved it wouldn’t have been a quick death, something they had in common. He could imagine the man beg for his life if his tongue wasn’t cut off in the beginning, his eyes frantically looking around for an escape before realizing that it was all hopeless. He wasn’t even graced with the sight of the night sky before the life behind his eyes disappeared, only the rotting ceiling of an abandoned warehouse where he’ll lie forgotten.

Yuusuke could feel envy simmer beneath his skin.

Still, they were there for a reason and Yuusuke redirected his eyes back to Hani, waiting for the big announcement. Finally, at the reveal of Saori’s death, Yuusuke let out a sigh of relief. The knowledge that Saori didn’t commit suicide lifted a weight on his shoulder. It didn’t matter if he tried to reach out more, or if he asked how she was doing. It wasn’t his fault because she didn’t take her own life.

With the more detailed autopsy, Yuusuke would wonder about the goal of the murderer. They weren’t even sure Saori was the one who wrote the letter. For all they knew it was the rat who did it. And if Saori did write the letter then why didn’t they remove it from the scene?

Yuusuke nodded in agreement with Masamune’s sentiment, “Which in itself is a clue, probably.” He then made his way towards the table filled with refreshments and grabbed a mint candy before popping it inside his mouth. The instant relief from the stench of the place was a welcome change.

“How sure are we that it was a rat and not some random Yakuza wanting to stir trouble inside the restaurant?” Yuusuke continued. All he knew was that they needed to find whoever did it, whether they were a rat or not before things could go back to normal.

 
Sunday, October 6th, 2002
Migiwa
Shinju
A sharp, mechanical singing pierced through the veil of Shinju’s concentration—or rather lack thereof based on the thick stroke of ink running from the middle of the paper onto the wooden desk below. As the hand holding onto the brush remained suspended in the air, she contemplated leaving both the mess and the call behind in favor of crawling back to bed for a nap. Though time had already inched its way to the boundary between the afternoon and evening, it was clear she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night prior. However, upon seeing the caller ID flashing insistently on the small display etched into the outer shell of her phone, she groaned. Dropping the brush onto the now ruined page, she removed the stick of candy in her mouth and snatched up the phone with her other hand.

By the end, she almost wished she hadn’t picked up at all. The call offered the information that would either fan or settle the unease slowly percolating under the skin of this damned organization of theirs. Yet all that she seemed to get out of it was that Shiratori was a bastard who had neither the manners nor the mind to call for meetings ahead of time. Really? Expecting punctuality when giving merely an hour’s notice in advance?

Funnily enough, these frustrations of hers would be quickly forgotten upon stepping foot into the abandoned warehouse.

82 seems like he’d eat lunch next to the corpse he embalmed if he were a mortician

Ignoring the heavy atmosphere, the black-haired woman deftly clicked away at the buttons on her phone before saving the note and sliding the flip phone back into her pocket. The rest of the briefing went about as expected: the revelation of the autopsy report and murmurs of the supposed rat in their midst. She had a few ideas on why someone from the red moon would murder Saori, but…

“If this was how they left the scene of the crime, they either get off on playing weird mind games or are horribly incompetent at their job. Were they even trying to make it look like a suicide? The bar is doomed if people like that were employed,”
Shinju spoke up to no one in particular as she placed the remnants of her cigarette into her ashtray pouch. If this was the performance of the average member of the red moon, they would’ve been discovered a long time ago. Surely there was no one this foolish and overconfident.

While snapping the pouch shut, Shinju turned her head toward the person standing next to her. Then, she made a face.

No, there actually was someone exactly like that. Though she doubted he was the rat the brass were looking for given his personality. Still, he was living proof of the type of people gathered within the Red Moon.

Taking her eyes off of Natsuki’s face and planting her cheek in her hand, Shinju sighed,
“You know what. Suddenly, I’m having an easier time believing that maybe there really is someone that stupid or perverted at the bar.”
#natsuki
#kage
Code by Nano
 
Hani
The Owner
Amihan liked Meifang since high school and elected she stand next to him during the announcements. He liked most of the women at the bar and loved women in general. They normally smelled floral, and he was interested in their nails. How glossy and neat they could be. How most women he met were manicured down to the finest detail. Not even an eyebrow hair could be out of place -- and if it were, it went unnoticed. It seemed their grooming habits were an inward decision, not dictated by the ravenous stares of men. As they stood there, his gaze lingered on her arms. How soft they might be. A small part of him wanted to touch her hand, and he was sure she would let him, but he didn't. He instead watched the group of employees further deliberate about Saori. His eyes fell on Kage, who absorbed something (presumably critical) Shinju said while that idiot Natsuki stood by as well.

His biggest concern was a crumpled up corpse in the corner. Hani sanitized his hand with a small travel-sized bottle in his pocket, let it dry, and plucked a snack he knew Meifang liked from the table. The owner gently took her hand just as he wished to do earlier and poured a few contents in her palm. He stood close to her, and he stared blankly at the corner for a few moments. Specifically, he wanted Masashi beside him too, a deviation from his usual request for Kage to be at his flank. Maybe Masashi stood there wondering what the hell Hani wanted, but for a price, he would wait. There had been a pressure in the owner's head, and he looked down at his spit-polished shoes (courtesy of some slain yakuza).

"Masashi," he finally said, in between chewing the shared snack with Meifang.
"Can you break down poor Kenji-kun over there?" he muttered, picking up a heavy toolbox and throwing it to Masashi. He smiled at him, but his eyes failed to follow suite.

"How's your mother doing? Haven't had the chance to visit her, but I've been thinking about her," he said coldly. It seemed that day he was calculated and distant. Tomorrow, he would probably be different.
coded by reveriee.
 
Last edited:
ishida takara

the honeypot
O
ther people may have slept and relaxed with their newly found free time, however Takara was not sitting idly by this time. He had dates to go on, people to meet with, and a murder to look in to. None of which would wait for him if he decided to laze about in bed.

He was in the midst of one of those things when Hani called him. Despite his lackadaisical attitude, Takara never ignored a call from Hani. Which meant his plans were cut unfortunately short.

“Well, maybe we’ll get to play more next time.”
Takara said as he hung up the call and dropped his phone back onto the bed.
“Duty calls. See you very soon”



He arrived just in time, slipping into the warehouse and standing between Yoshio and Kazuo. His nose wrinkled as he caught sight of the embarrassing array of snacks and drinks that Hani had brought, not even blinking at the bloated and decomposing dead man in the corner.
“He couldn’t splurge a little?”
Takara complained, crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a sign of complaint before Hani began to speak.

Saori’s death made no sense.

The wrinkle to Takara’s nose returned as he thought more on how nonsense Saori’s death was. Whoever had killed her either couldn’t make up their mind, was a psychopath, or was incompetent like Shinju said. It was hard to imagine anyone in the bar as incompetent, though. If they were, then they would be long dead. Which just added another layer of mystery to the matter. Was this stage? Was Saori’s note stage? Takara had so many questions, but nothing that Hani was telling them provided him any of the answers that he wanted.

Hani asking if the killer was in the room was in poor taste, but all Takara did in response was roll his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was a joke or meant to unsettle whoever had done it. Either way, Takara didn’t care for it.

“We all had to come here for this?”
Takara muttered lowly.
“Is he trying to use a scare tactic, on us?”
A bunch of trained killers and assassins. If they were so easily rattled they wouldn’t deserve their jobs. Or to have lived this long. Yet, maybe that was what Hani hoped for, that whoever did it was on edge enough to be affected.
“I’m going to put extra hours on my timesheet to make up for this cutting into my free time.”
He declared.

However, since it was just him, Yoshio and Kazuo standing together right now - and he trusted the pair - he decided to dive a bit deeper into his own investigation.
“We’re assuming the letter was written by Saori-chan, right? And not a forgery?”
He questioned while pulling a plastic baggie out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it over to Yoshio.
“Does this look like Saori-chan’s hand writing to you? I think it is - but she didn’t write much for me.”
Yoshio had been there a long time and Kazuo had been their boss, if anyone would know her handwriting it was them.

The note itself was not very long. Just a scribbled down address on a piece of paper from their notepads that he’d found tucked in a locker. Clearly written in Saori’s hand, and new enough that it hadn’t been cleaned out by one of the kitchen’s usual deep cleans.

209-1019, Minamitanaka, Nerima-ku, Tokyo

outfit:
location:
shitty warehouse

 
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