sukitaro

[sukitaro]

Twisted Fate

In the wee morning of Kugane’s Rakuza District, it had only struck the second bell of the dawning hours. The storm that had descended upon the city had proven merciless, sending native Hingan and ijin alike to the indoors to escape the downpour. Those that had yet to curl up for a night’s slumber, anyways. Heavy rainfall on a coastal city was fairly commonplace and earned naught save for irritation from those wandering the few carts and stalls that remained open for business at this hour.

Three men stood side by side along the more obscured roadway of the Rakuza District, collectively facing a relatively small building with a sign nowhere to be seen. There was no easy way to identify this particular establishment. From what was able to be made out of the interior from the outside, a crimson glow illuminated the inside of said establishment, giving it a rather warm and inviting feel for someone caught under the mercy of the rainfall. Overall, in comparison to a more traditional Hingan abode, this building boasted a bit of a modern appearance. A single guard was stationed outside, arms folded as he stood at the ready underneath a structural outcropping. 

These three men, Raen Auri with a staggered variance in builds - ranging from lanky to toned - didn’t seem phased by the gradual soaking of their garments and heads of hair. There was hardly anything of note on their persons, just three men, two dressed in a navy blue and grey yukata and one in a black montsuki. All looked to be in their mid 30’s. Hair was tied back into an Eastern topknot, left to cascade over shoulder fronts, or cut short to sweep over a limbal ring. They were silent, but only for a time.

<”...Seriously? This is your definition of fun, Ikatsu?”> The Raen dressed in the grey yukata spoke pointedly towards the man dressed in a montsuki, keeping to the Hingan tongue. <”This is an…”> Giving some side-eyes to the surrounding area, which was emptier than the Void itself, he dropped to a whisper. <”’Adult’ venue’.”>

Ikatsu blinked, giving the other Raen a glare. <”It’s not like I dragged you two babies to a brothel. Besides, I don’t have the koban to spare to bribe any of those unfortunate women to give you a good time, Tadano-chan!”> He burst into rowdy laughter, giving a harsh slap to the other man’s back, earning him a pointed glare. The honorific was not an accident. <”No big deal, right Anzuke-chan?”>

The third Raen present, Anzuke, spared a squint at the guard positioned out front. <”I mean, isn’t a strip joint kind of...the same deal?”> After a moment, he turned to face Ikatsu in full. <”...You didn’t tell Ryuki-sama about this, did you?”> It came out as more an accusation than an inquiry. He had a hunch.

<”Look, as much as Ryuki-sama has my respect and love, he’s gotta lighten up a little! How long has it been since we paid a visit to the big city?”> Ikatsu outstretched his arms, stepping forward and turning to face Tadano and Anzuke squarely. <”Moons? Doma is great and all, but you don’t miss the hustle and excitement of Kugane? The ijin visit in droves for a reason, you know.”>

Tadano huffed. <”To be fair, Ikatsu, Doma is still pretty wary of foreigners, especially with...how the Empire is faring these days.”> He lifted his shoulders. <”Who can blame us? You’ve heard the stories of late, right? People go missing and come back swearing fealty to the Empire, like they’re brainwashed or something.”> Lifting a finger. <”That’s real.”>

Anzuke slowly folded his arms. <”Is it even a thing for brothers to go to a strip joint together? Isn’t that kind of...what’s the word…”> The man scratched at his cheek, panning his focus to the sky, only to receive a prompt raindrop into an eye. He growled, cupping a palm over his face altogether.

<”Naaaah. We don’t really have places like this in Doma. If we do, I haven’t heard of them. So...tell you two what. We go home the moment any of us get bored with this. Deal?”> Ikatsu insisted, holding his palms out. <”We can order all the yakisoba and Sake we could want for. One night. We will go home tomorrow if things pan out, alright?”> He gave his brothers a pleading look. <”It’s all on me. Nothing to lose on your end! My koban. Besides, you two do like women, yes?”>

Tadano and Anzuke side-eye each other, meeting Ikatsu’s hopeful look with blank look. <“…Yeah.”> They responded in unison. 

After an awkward silence, Tadano motioned towards the front. <”I’m never gonna live this down, you know. You’re a clown!”> Barking a laugh, he pushed Ikatsu back by his horns. <”But deal, if you’re paying I suppose. Free Sake and entertainment, won’t hear a complaint on my end. Let’s get this over with, eh?”> With that, the trio of Raen approached the stationed guard, letting Ikatsu take the lead. 

Before Ikatsu could get a word out, his customary bow was met with a curt grunt. <”Weapons.”> The guard outstretched an expectant hand, crooking his fingers in twice. The man, an Eastern Hyur, gave each Auri a look of absolute indifference.  

Ikatsu looked mildly taken aback by the Hyur’s gruffness, but thought little of it. <”Right then!”> Motioning for Tadano and Anzuke to do the same, he forked over a pair of daggers. The Hyur awkwardly held a total of six daggers in one hand, his indifferent expression shifting a bit. Wary. But after a moment, he stepped aside, giving a nonverbal confirmation for them to proceed as planned. With a collective nod, Ikatsu and Tadano slipped inside, still sopping wet from the downpour. Anzuke casted a parting glance over his shoulder, brows knitted. Then, he followed suit.

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The slip from a stormy outside to a toasty inside was akin to stepping foot into another world entirely. Unbelievably pristine velvet stools and couches, crystalline glass tumblers in abundance, brands of liquor to rob the savings of your typical city worker, and as expected there were entertainers present at this hour. The stage was positioned center to the surrounding tables and smaller lounge areas with an oddly lacking supply of lighting you would expect to find in a club environment. Instead, the interior of the building was dimly lit with a crimson glow stemming from some Hingan lanterns mounted along the walls. As far as employed personnel at this hour, there was a single bartender, three waitstaff, two dancers, and a single security guard stationed near the entrance. As was the nature of the venue, the dancers - one Eastern Hyur and one Roegadyn - sauntered along their respective halves of the stage, seductive movements and smoldering expressions locked down to perfection. Yet the venue itself was fairly empty otherwise. Not including the trio of Raen men that had just slipped in, the only additional patronage to be seen came in the form of another trio of men sat in a boothed corner. The low lightning did no favors in giving this unknown trio easy visibility from a distance. 

A gorgeous Highlander woman swiftly made her way to the group of Auri, dipping at the hip in an Eastern greeting. <”Good evening, gentlemen. Will this be a party of three?”> She hummed, giving the group a collective once-over and an intoxicating smile.

Naturally, Ikatsu was the first to speak up, returning the Eastern bow while the other two Auri shamelessly stared at the pair of dancers present. <”Yes yes, only the three of us. Wherever you see fit would work for us, hmm?”> Without breaking eye contact, he roughly nudged Anzuke and Tadano to snap them back to the present.

The Highlander giggled quietly, gesturing for the trio to follow. <”But of course. Right this way.~”> Pivoting on a heel, she made her way over to a boothed table across the way, near the far end of the venue with Auri in tow. The other patrons present sat directly across the way in another booth, but no issue was taken with this. The waitress slipped over a small stack of menus with a forward lean, stepping back to allow the men to settle in and lacing her fingers in front of her. <”I will give you all some time to browse, yes?”> Dipping forward, she turned to vanish into the back-of-the-house portion of the venue. 

The Raen quietly voiced their appreciations in turn, getting comfortable on the booth with a comically in-unison exhale. They looked over the menu contents, passing occasional glances up at the stage intermittently, until Tadano sounded off. <”So because the big bro offered to paaaay, I’m gettiiiing....”> He trailed off, audibly gasping at the pricing for the more high-end Sake and liquor brands. He wordlessly side-eyed Ikatsu, who already had a deadpan prepared.

<”If you love me, you will not order that Sochu.”> Judging by his held eye contact, Ikatsu knew damn well which serving of booze Tadano had a near heartattack over. Only when Tadano grumbled and returned to browsing his other options had Ikatsu turned his focus to Anzuke. He blinked, taking note of the younger Raen’s focus elsewhere - neither to the menu nor the stage. <”Anzuke-chan? Anything look good?”>

Anzuke paid no mind to his question, focused across the way at the trio of men seated nearby. After another moment had passed, he slowly panned his focus towards his brothers, leaning forward to whisper. <”Hey...aren’t those the people that keep giving Ryuki-sama and Suki-san trouble?”> He flicked his limbal ringed stare towards the left, as if motioning for Ikatsu and Tadano to look over.

Squinting, Ikatsu eyed the neighboring booth, separated only by the main walkway utilized by waitstaff. Without the distance and overall lack of lightning working against them now, their nearby company was easier to identify. A fellow Raen man, a pureblooded Garlean and a Midlander man. In contrast, they were all dressed to the nines in luxurious suits and ties with jade jewelry in plain sight. The Garlean’s total lack of an attempt to cover his third eye lifted a few eyebrows, but the participant to garner the most focus was the Auri man. Massive, fanged, irezumi marked from neck to heels, and that unsettlingly reptilian glare of gleaming amber. The trio collectively appeared...very disinterested with the entertainment, not even offering a passive glance towards the dancers on duty. They seemed far more invested in quiet conversation, having ordered the aforementioned Sochu Ikatsu swore off entirely due to its staggering koban price tag. If they had noticed the trio of newcomers, they didn’t make it clear.

<”What in the name of the Kami…”> Tadano hissed under his breath, his stare igniting with an invigorated animosity. <”Is that a damned Imperial?”> He demanded, leaning in towards Ikatsu as he posed his question. <”This is a public strip joint, what sense would it make for them to waltz in here without a care in the world? They’re criminals. No way are these the same people, Anzuke-chan.”> Tadano swiftly dismissed Anzuke’s observation.

Ikatsu, meanwhile, had been busily eying the interior of the venue, letting his focus sit on the trio across the way once again. As such, Tadano’s concern went unanswered. For a time. <”...I don’t know much about that group harassing Ryuki-sama and Suki-san. Hold on a moment.”> He hissed in turn towards Tadano and Anzuki, flagging down their waitress as she emerged from the rear of the house. <”Excuse me.”>

The Highlander hurried on over, head tilted as she regarded Ikatsu with an inquisitive sound effect. <”Are you all ready to order?”> She pulled free a notepad, giving the trio an expectant smile.

<”No no, we’re...still looking over it all.”> As he continued he dropped his volume to a whisper, forcing the Highlander to lower herself to hear him adequately. <”Those three...are they regular patrons of yours’?”> With his manner of speaking, it came across as a friendly curiosity rather than what it really was - suspicion.

With a shake of her head, the Highlander sighed softly. <”I’m afraid I cannot disclose information about our other guests. I’m very sorry.”> Before Ikatsu could protest, she had risen to her feet, giving no one present the chance to debate her stance. <”Let me know when you’ve all made your choices.~”> With a bow, she stepped across the main pathway, tending to the scrutinized trio of patrons with an oddly hushed manner of speaking. Her focus seemed solely locked on the Raen man, who eyed her in an unamused manner in turn as she spoke. No reply was given on his end. Instead, he casted a fleeting glance towards the trio of Auri, motioning for the waitress to depart with a flick of the wrist. With that, she vanished, and the Raen turned to address the other pair in his company, jagged chin resting on his knuckles. The Garlean and Midlander tuned into what he had to say, but periodically eyed the trio of Auri in a distrustful manner. 

Meanwhile, Ikatsu had witnessed this entire interaction unfold, throat tightening and jaw set firmly. <”...It’s them.”> He kept his discovery short and curt, hushed but in horn-shot of his brothers.

<”No. No no no.”> Anzuke began to panic, likewise having watched the interaction across the way. Suddenly, the luxurious set-up and lack of another patron dawned a truth upon him. <”We need to go.”> He pleaded quietly, already shoving himself to his feet in a bold attempt to make an exit.

<”Sit down!”> Tadano snapped behind clenched teeth, gripping at Anzuke’s tail and yanking him down. <”So that’s how you want to handle this? Running away? A Kotaro doesn’t run.”> He extended a firm finger in front of his anxious sibling. <”This is a public setting. What’re they going to do? Pray tell me.”>

Ikatsu, asserting himself as the diplomatic voice of the three, held up a palm towards the bickering siblings. <”Decide on what you’d wish to eat. I’ll be quick with this.”> Despite the obvious alarm from Tadano and Anzuke, Ikatsu shoved himself to a stand, slipping across the pathway and just out of reach of Anzuke’s attempted grabbing of a hand.

The odd trio panned their attention towards the approached Ikatsu, remaining silent as he spoke with an impressive conviction. <”You all. You’re Takaneda, are you not?”> Standing with his arms hanging at his side.

The vicious-looking Raen side-eyed Ikatsu with his slitted stare, lifting his chin from his knuckles. He ran his fingers through his strands of black spikes, directing a subtle hand signal towards the security personnel at the front with a brief crossing of index and middle finger. Just like that, as the Raen began to speak, the bouncer sidestepped to barricade the entrance. <”Mmm, yes?”> His emotionless speech was laced with irritation as he finally turned his head to face his new company.

<”So I see. I’ll make this brief, as I see you’ve better matters to tend to than I.”> Ikatsu gestured loosely to the dancers on the stage, both of whom had begun to cast looks towards Ikatsu and those he had chosen to address. <”My name is Kotaro no Ikatsu. I’m of the assumption my Clan name will ring familiar to you and yours’.”> Briefly eying the Garlean and Midlander as he spoke. <”And-”> 

<”Save it, I beg you.”> The Raen chipped in, lacing his dazzled fingers on top of a knee. <”You so boldly approach and request I halt my affairs with your Clan patriarch and his adopted one. Is that right?”> A sickening smile crossed his lips, one with all the authenticity of a professional trickster. <”Here I was, enjoying my evening. Very sad.”>

Ikatsu squinted, refusing to budge from his spot. <”This is not a request. This is a demand.”> In a blatant show of aggression, he gritted his teeth and lashed his barbed tail backwards. <”To go after an aging old man and his daughter, the latter of which was robbed of a mother and father on account of your deplorable spawn of people.”> Jamming a finger point-blank at the seated Imperial, who kept ominously silent. Still gave Ikatsu a look to freeze over the worst of Thanalan. <”Takaneda no Zenkoshi. An evil creature on all accounts. To think I’d sit idle while you got your filthy hands on our patriarch’s adopted daughter after you had him ‘dealt with’ is laughable.”> With each emphasis, his lean towards the Raen became further and further apparent, ‘laughable’ snarled forth between clenched teeth. He stood, two ilms of pitiful space between the men’s noses. <”Only...I’m the jokester in my family, and I’m not laughing about it.”>

<”To be straightforward, you are hardly in any position to make demands of me, insignificant cub.”> Zenkoshi mused quietly, his Komodo dragon tail shifting to lay atop his lap as he addressed his verbal attacker. <”You’d be wise to do so on your grounds moving…”> He cut his sentence prematurely, sluggishly blinking. It was as if he had second thoughts in regard to his choice of words. <”...Forward.”> The Raen man began to drum his fingers atop his tail, eying Anzuke and Tadano. <”More of yours’?”> Flashing Ikatsu his trademark sickening smile. 

<”They’re not involved in this conversation, you thuggish snake.”> Ikatsu snapped, keeping his lean in uncomfortably close - for many. Zenkoshi seemed unable to care less. <”You’re a busy man. You truly have the spare time to tamper with my family for naught?”> As this interaction took place, the bartender absentmindedly slipped to the back of the house, presumably to fetch some booze as his own functioning barback. 

Anzuke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, awkwardly slipping out of the booth. Firmly deciding that he did not want to interrupt this, he whispered in Tadano’s crooked horn. <”He needs to know what’s happening.”> Upon being given a perplexed look from his brother, he dropped his voice to the absolute minimum. <”The…’Papa Tiger’. Sure, that.”> The Raen was sweating like a madman in a desert, trembling as he spoke.

<”Ryuki-sama? Are you kidding? You don’t think we can handle ourselves?”> Tadano protested, casting another stare across the way in hopes of proving his point. Only, the animosity between the two seemed to be sparking out of control with the passing moments. Gritting his teeth, Tadano gestured for Anzuke to make his call. <”Shit. Go on.”> Anzuke nodded, looking visibly relieved to have an excuse to step away for a moment. He slipped into back hallway towards the restrooms to fiddle with his Linkpearl.

Zenkoshi rumbled, the jagged spikes along his tail protruding menacingly. <”I’m not a fan of this interaction. He who harms without reason - this is a thug. I’m quite a methodologist in how I handle my business.”> He rolled his neck, producing a few cracks. <”Said business has suffered at the hands of your vermin Shinobi. It’s really not a difficult circumstance to grasp. I’m to let that slide?”> Chuckling coldly. <”The death of a rather useless old man and the acquisition of who I am to believe is the future successor? She is...twenty three summers?”> Leaning his head back. <”I do recall her playing a part in the needless ambushing of our operations. She was quite skilled at it. We’ve have much to talk about.”> 

As Ikatsu prepared to snarl his denial of that event, a savage bolt of blue Ninjutsu lightning blasted from the hallway, striking the wall across the way. A fire swiftly sprang to life behind the bar counter as a panicked screech rippled through the venue. As if the Raiton strike had failed, a second shot of lightning could be heard by a crackling sound effect only, indicating it had been launched in another direction. Then, all was silent. The pair of Raiton launches and screaming had panned out over the course of a measly five seconds - the time it would take many to try and make sense of the situation and run over to assist.

<”A-Anzuke-chan?”> Ikatsu snapped his attention towards the back hallway, scrambling over with Tadano in tow. What laid before the pair of men was best described as an inhumanely swift hit-and-run slaughter. The rapidly expiring form of Anzuke, laying sprawled across the floor with a near emptied jugular. A feral set of four claw marks had gutted the man’s throat like a hot knife through butter, sending splotches of blood splattering along the hallway walls and floorboards. The rakes looked produced by...a badger? By the time his brothers had rushed to the scene of the killing, Anzuke’s abdomen heaved up and down at a panicked tempo, staring at the ceiling with eyes wild from an adrenaline rush. 

Tadano tossed himself to the floorboards, scrambling to grab onto Anzuke’s splayed right hand. Words struggled to spring free, but the Raen could only voice his grief and disbelief through a series of gasps and stutters. Immediately he went for a press to his brother’s abdomen, which had somehow been spared the wrath of whatever lashed out at him. One push, two pushes, until Tadano pressed his palms into his fallen brother with no intention of halting his motions. <”C-C-Come on! C-Come ON!”> He bellowed, growing frustrated by his fruitless attempts at resuscitation. <”Anzuke-chan, p-please...g-get up...GET UP!”>

As tears began to fall from Tadano’s broken stare, Ikatsu observed this unfold with trembling limbs. Jaw dropped mildly, tail rigid and cries of disbelief escaping as pitiful chokes. Yet, the man knew Tadano’s efforts to be a timely failure. Forcing his tear formations to halt with a ghastly inward take of air, he snapped into a whirling about-face, addressing the Takaneda present with limbal rings ablaze with rage. <”You animals! I know you had something to do with this!”> Spit launched from his lips as he screamed at those assembled on the booth, jamming an accusatory finger at Zenkoshi before snapping it to Anzuke’s still form. Greeted with a frustrating silence, Ikatsu rapidly advanced on the seated trio - before Tadano at last regained his speech.

<”Th...There…”> Tadano choked through tears, lofting a vibrating limb to motion down the hallway. The door to the back of the house was wide open, traces of blood visible along the floorboards. In a damning display, the metallic door leading to the rear alleyways of the Rakuza District was likewise pulled open. A small mess was made of the supplies in the area, suggesting someone had barreled through to get to the alleyway door. <”I’ll...I’ll kill them...I’ll kill them all!”> Tadano launched himself from Anzuke’s body, rampaging through the bar storage to get to the alleyway door, salivating at the mouth as each scale or spike along his form with the potential to rear upwards did so. On a mental level, he had lost it.

<”WAIT!”> Ikatsu barked in response to Tadano’s sudden charge, but failed to yoink the Auri man back in time. Hyperventilating, he turned on a heel, staring down the barrel of a pointed shotgun. He felt his throat lock up, panning his focus from the barrel to an awaiting Zenkoshi, who eyed the Kotaro with a half-lidded expression.

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The Oyabun canted his head to the left. <”What a predicament.”> A wordless head gesture sent the present Midlander darting past Ikatsu and Anzuke, giving hot pursuit to a currently rampaging Tadano. <”I’m thinking...this was a mistake on your part, cub.”> He casually flicked the barrel of his shotgun towards Ikatsu’s forehead, positioning it back between his eyes.

Ikatsu held his breath, letting a festering silence hang between the men for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was only a few minutes. A screech could be heard from what sounded like the far end of the parallel alleyway, causing Ikatsu to flinch on instinct. Then, the bloodied form of Tadano was cruelly dragged through the back doorway by the Takaneda Midlander. Given how large the Auri was in comparison to the Midlander, it shouldn’t be feasible. Grotesque talon marks marred his body as if he had been swooped on by a monstrous bird of prey, all across his torso and limbs. He was very clearly alive and conscious, hissing through grinded teeth as he thrashed with what little energy he had left to spare, wheezing from the pain inflicted. The Raen had a few digits lobbed off, robbing him of proper Ninjutsu to utilize in self defense. 

<”A neutered animal. This is what you are. How the mighty have fallen.”> Zenkoshi droned, forcing the man to turn on his heel with the yanking of a shoulder and threatening shove of his barrel against his skull. 

Ikatsu grinded his teeth, turning on a heel to face Tadano and the Midlander. 

The Midlander grinned like a fool, splaying his fingers and lofting a palm. In an instant, his index finger shifted to assume the form of a viciously sharp bird’s feather, which he swiftly snapped shoved into the torso of his held victim. A fatal blow to the critical artery. Tadano’s body jerked violently on impale, turning his focus onto his older brother across the way. A pitifully slow head shake and attempt at speech was cut short, body slumped over as his hemorrhaged central organ had given way to ruin. He sat, broken and denied a peaceful end. With a tight pursing of his lips inward, Ikatsu closed his eyes, silence having returned to the scene. Any mental gymnastics to keep from breaking down, he attempted. Had it not been for his current peril, he would have done so. He went still. 

Then, without forewarning, Ikatsu’s body quite literally sparked to life. A vicious discharge of Aetherical energies burst from the Raen man’s form, sending Zenkoshi sprawling back with a venomous snarl. With not a moment to spare and unafforded the time to contemplate what had just transpired, Ikatsu bounded forward, slipping into the shadows without a trace of smoke to be seen. Narrowly slipping past two rounds of gunfire, he snuck to the alleyway door with his focus poised for the ground. Any movement of fallen objects could spell an abrupt fate. As he prepared to slip through the doorway, another round of gunfire shot through the open exit. Ikatsu waited until Zenkoshi had his weapon poised elsewhere before making his move, scrambling into the alleyway and opting for a height advantage. He tossed himself for a railing up above, grabbing onto what he could to toss his legs up and over, perched so to allow him a vantage point. There was no time for grieving. It would come later.

Zenkoshi emerged from the storage room, shotgun at his side. His hulking tail raked across the concrete, reptilian stare pulsating with an odd luminosity. With another scanning of the area, he flashed his set of fangs, turning on a heel to trudge back into the storage room. To search for an uninjured Shinobi at night may have been harder than finding a needle in a haystack. Immediately, the Raen was greeted with his Midlander and Imperial company.

<”Oyabun? Should we…?”> The Midlander asked, loosely gesturing towards the ravaged bodies of Anzuke and Tadano. 

<”You will not. Not with these filthy Kotaro cubs.”> Zenkoshi grunted, carelessly slamming his boot into Tadano’s ribcage as he passed the other Takaneda. He halted at the end of the hallway, shoving his shotgun back into its holster and cursing quietly in his native tongue. Unbeknownst to the others present, he had a soft grin on his lips, head declined downward.

Casting a parting look of animosity, Ikatsu inched his way down the railing, turning to depart when he deemed it safe to do so. 

Suddenly, he preferred the reclusive nature of his homeland.

[sukitaro]

The Serpent’s Bite

The soft footsteps of a Midlander traveled down the exquisite hallway of a Hingan estate, nestled comfortably within Koshu borders well away from any busy villages or markets. The exterior of the estate could be compared vaguely to the Yuzuka Manor within Yanxia, three stories tall with a Hingan style fencing encasing the manor from any outsiders foolish enough to sate their curiosities. At all hours of the day, one could find a pair of sentries keeping watch along either side of the center archway leading into the estate’s personal courtyard, showcasing a peculiarly demonic looking statue in it’s centre, sporting jagged horns, curving claws and a tail ridged with blades.

Within the estate walls, it looked to be an extension of the occupants’ Rakuza District karaoke bar. Authentic ukiyo-e artwork, luxurious leather couches and seats, and every attempt one could make otherwise at flaunting their wealth - likely earned through less conventional methods given the circumstance of this evening in particular.

A cold sweat ran down the Midlander’s temple, of which he briskly removed with a swipe of his thumb. He halted before the doorway leading to the unknown, pivoting on a heel to deliver a whispered pep talk in Hingan. There was nobody around. It was for his own benefit, futile as it was to calm his apprehension. Adjusting his black haori, the man rounded himself back to the door, forcing himself into a position of power, shoulders squarely lifted and chin poised up. He slowly pushed open the door, departing from the sanctuary of the empty hallway.

“Calm...calm...you’ve earned this. Don’t show weakness. Be strong. Take a deep breath.”

It was an occasion suffered for, bloodletting after bloodletting as a testament to the man’s unwavering loyalty. Trial after trial he had emerged on top, vouched for by two of their own to be allowed into their twisted culture. To be offered this chance was a near-impossible feat, and for this reason, the Midlander had steeled his mind in hopes of the day. Now, it had arrived.

Sakazuki.

The transition from hallway into ceremonial suite was akin to the journey from the mortal plane into hell itself; grotesque Hannya masks, a non-existent lighting save for a pair of low lit Hingan lanterns at the head of the room, and quite a few rather basic candles places evenly throughout the perimeter. Daggers were mounted along the outer walls in moderately spaced lines with some daggers’ steel splattered with aged blood. To mirror the hallway, various priceless acquisitions were hung up around the room likewise to give the wandering eye a reprieve from the overall ominous layout, oddly akin to a cultist’s ritual circle. Eastern cushions were placed along the main floor of the room, seating between fifteen and twenty men ranging from Hyur to Roegadyn. Each man sat motionless on joined knees faced forward, a large slip of Eastern parchment hanging before their eyes via a tautly tied string around the circumference of the head. Inked on each piece of parchment paper was the daimon of the Takaneda-gumi drawn in thick black ink. If any of those present seated on the cushions were watching the newly arrived Midlander or scrunching their faces, it was unable to be seen. All faces were shrouded, figures unmoving. Like statues.

At the head of the room, seated on a cushion a level taller than the other men gathered, a monstrous Raen sat unmasked by Eastern parchment. He faced those present, assuming the same position as the rest on his knees. Dressed in a floor length haori and hakama with an irezumi-marred torso exposed between folds of his gown, his loathingly hateful stare of brilliant orange locked onto the Midlander the moment he had given the door a push. He was a bit abnormally heighted for his race, along with an uncanny quantity of spike growths and extra ridging to his bountiful patches of scales. Grievously long fangs lay hidden behind a tight lip line. Overall, the man looked nightmarish and young given his status in the group. Late 20’s to early 30’s by appearance alone, and certainly not lacking in physical appeal. He was motionless and without a word to say. Not yet.

The Midlander stood frozen, his rehearsed confidence pelted at by the Au Ra’s look. Quickly snapping back to attention, he dipped forward at the waist, silently taking a seat upon an unoccupied cushion. Even then, no observers turned to regard him. Perhaps they did so with a veiled grimace. He would never come to find out.

The Au Ra let the uncomfortable silence draw out for a few minutes more, spined komodo dragon tail coiled around his person - beside him sat a single choka cup and Sake bottle based on appearance, although this bottle lacked any sort of commercial labeling. After what likely felt like forever for that poor Midlander, he spoke in his unsettlingly emotionless baritone. <”I imagine I am not needing an introduction of my own, but in any case, I am Takaneda no Zenkoshi. I am the acting Oyabun for the Takaneda-gumi. This, as I mentioned, is nothing unknown prior to this moment.”> Pausing. <”As such, I will be overseeing this Sakazuki. This ceremony will see our eldest newcomer, Jiroshi no Kohaku, as a recognized Shatei of the Takaneda-gumi.”> Zenkoshi spoke as if he had recited this all a few times in the past. Silence hung in the air, only torn by the subtle beating of the Midlander’s heartbeat.

<”You have not faltered nor hesitated on Kyodai-given tasks. You do not question our methods nor our culture. As shocking as I’m sure this experience has been, it has not gone unnoticed by our most senior.”> Zenkoshi’s stare intensified. <”...Although, I am afraid the standard protocol for explaining what the Takaneda-gumi’s history entails is reserved for after the ceremony. I take it this is not an issue.”>

The Midlander, Kohaku, nodded without a moment’s hesitation. Though he dared not speak. It was all too fresh.

“Finally, after so many turns of poverty in the streets...I belong. For once in my miserable life, I belong...don’t cry, Kami damn it. They’ll eat you alive. Save the waterworks for later.”

Zenkoshi briefly flicked his stare down to the cushion to his right. <”Sit.”>

Kohaku lifted to his feet, fighting the urge to adjust his attire as he stepped onto the taller platform, taking a seat atop the designated cushion. He sat atop his knees, facing the Raen as the Oyabun shifted to face him. The onlookers continued to sit motionless, faces shrouded.

Zenkoshi lifted the unlabeled Sake bottle, tilting it over the empty choka cup. He poured a generous serving of liquid that was clear, as to be expected, but laced with murky green. Setting the Sake bottle down onto the flooring, he grasped the choka cup between both black-clawed hands, bringing it to his lips and taking a respectfully moderate sip. With this done, he gave the Midlander an expectant look, holding out the choka cup with both hands. <”So it will be, the bond between Oyabun and Shatei. Let it be finished.”>

In reply to the pouring, Kohaku stared at the filled choka cup with a sluggish blink, only turning his focus back to the Raen as he caught Zenkoshi’s stare. Realizing his momentarily blunder, he accepted the cup swiftly, dipping his head. He remained quiet. With no further hesitation - and not wishing to rouse suspicion following his earlier mistake - he hoisted the cup to his lips, receiving a moderate swig of liquid. At Zenkoshi’s curt beckon, he returned the cup to the floor, palms resting atop his thighs. The Midlander allowed his eyes to flutter shut, momentarily touching his forehead to the ground before Zenkoshi. He paused, awaiting the congratulations from his newly acquired brothers.

There was nothing. Only a steady, uncomfortable silence.

<”Now. I must be made crystal clear of this. Would you die this day for the Takaneda-gumi?”>

Kohaku had begun the motion of lifting himself into his sitting position as Zenkoshi spoke. The man rigidly finished his move, sitting up erectly. He paused.

“Of course I would. This is...a question asked of all Shatei, no? To affirm one’s loyalty to the cause?”

<”I would, Takaneda-sama. I would commit the sacrifice as needed, time and time again, for the glory of the Takaneda-gumi. This I swear to you, with all that I am.”> Speaking with raw conviction. The Midlander opened his eyes.

There, he saw it, clutched in Zenkoshi’s waiting fist. A single dagger. No different than the rest mounted along the walls. He felt his stoic facade waver. Yet, he was bent on keeping face in front of those down below. <”...This is...a gift?”> Accepting the dagger with both palms upright.

Zenkoshi returned his palm to his lap. If it were ever possible for a gaze to scrutinize more wildly, it had manifested on the Raen’s expression. <”Do so. Die for the Takaneda-gumi.”> He spoke this with all the nonchalant coldness he had maintained up to this point. His slitted gaze did not leave the Midlander’s. <”Or have you so plainly spoken a lie in front of your family? This is your first act as a recognized Shatei?”> No inflection in his voice, save for a chilling lift to the tail end of his inquiry. 

Kohaku went rigid. Little by little, the dagger laid atop his palms began to vibrate, trembling as the sudden realization dawned on the Midlander like a slow, torturous burn transitioning into something unbearable. <”T...Takaneda-sama. This must be a mistake. How am I to serve your family in death?”> Try as he may, the Midlander’s panic began to show. His speaking volume lifted into a gradual plea.

“What...What is he pulling…? This is a mistake, right? What sort of twisted sense does this make?!”

<”I am rather insulted.”> Zenkoshi pulled his lips back, exposing his wicked fangs. <”You dare call our familial customs a ‘mistake’?”> Finally, after a full delivery at the same vocal volume, he lifted his voice. The ghastly orange glow to his stare visibly ignited, veins popping along the sides of his neck. <”After all you have suffered through, you wish to throw it away so haphazardly? In front of me? In front of your brothers?”> He gestured to the crowd with a clawed hand.

<”P-Please, there must be something else to be done! Anything!”> Kohaku clasped his palms together, bending forward. At the mercy of the Au Ra. <”Have I wronged you all? This is why I am sentenced to die?”> He was near shrieking with desperation, eyes clouded with gradually accumulating tears and craze.

Zenkoshi stared down at the lowered Midlander with a heartless sneer, folding his hands atop his lap. <”...This will matter not. I so kindly presented the chance for you to do so yourself. Now, you will perish without a spine.”> Despite the blatant threat, Zenkoshi did not make a move to kill the man.

Those in the audience remained motionless. Likewise, they seemed uninterested in following through with their leader’s scathing promise. Yet, from beneath the hanging parchments that served to shroud their faces, a pair of demonic circles manifested from beneath. Brilliant and monstrous enough to be seen through the hanging parchment, crimson in all of it’s different variants.

<”I am beg-”> Kohaku sobbed, feeling his body seize up, bones rattling as the nerves dotting his spine began to go haywire. His fingers and toes twitched, locking and extending in eldritch and unpredictable patterns, effectively cutting his speech short as saliva began to pool in his mouth. His pupils began to dilate and expand to the minimum and maximum, fingernails digging into his face in a feeble attempt to stop the uncontrollable spasms and shots of pain, bringing blood forth from fresh gashes. He still gripped the dagger.

“This isn’t...this...this...must...ehehehehe....stupid, stupid mortal...silly, silly little mortal…”

Gasping for air, Kohaku clawed at the ground, crashing onto his side. The world began to undulate and spin, forms shifting and turning to seem more terrifying than they were in reality. <”No! Who...get out of my head...stop!”>

“Craven. Useless. Street rat. Nobody. Worthless. Hopeless. Unloved.”

<”I-I…”> The Midlander squeezed at his throat with his unoccupied hand, vibrating as each heave of air escaped with a grotesque rattling of his bones. For the moment, he collapsed onto his back, seizing uncontrollably as the self-deprecating voices continued. They were not his own. 

“It’s better this way. A mercy. Yes...yeeeeees…”

Kohaku’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he lay in a trembling fit, and suddenly...he went still. All was quiet. Zenkoshi had no words, save for a steadily growing sneer, accompanied by cruel, quiet chuckling. Nor did those sitting on the cushions, demonic stare still on full-intensity behind the hanging parchment.

Then, his eyes snapped back into place. There was no trace of creamy white to be seen - only black, like those of a shark prepping for the slaughter. A twisted, inhumane smile crept upon his lips, splitting his lip in some areas on account of how impossibly massive that smile grew to be. With zero warning whatsoever, Kohaku erupted into screeching laughter, body shaking from the force of whatever entity laid waiting in that cup of ‘liquid’. Spewing blood and saliva with each heaving bark of laughter, the hand that gripped the dagger began to twitch. He spoke, screaming with a hysterical, supernatural force that had gripped body, mind and soul as if he were a puppet on a string.

<“RISE! RISE ANEW!”>

Following another exclaim of psychotic, howling laughter, Kohaku lifted his gifted dagger, plunging steel into his heart.

[sukitaro]

The Dawn of Midnight

It was approximately late afternoon to early evening on the northwestern end of Shishu, the sun’s warmth bathing the land in a soft heat. To the pleasure of those in the area, however, gentle winds carried the cool breeze of ocean water from the nearby coastline to keep the temperature and humidity comfortable even. The sky had gradually transitioned from it’s soft blue to a blue layered with the reddened clouds to mark the coming of sundown, the sun slowly sinking towards the ocean horizon.

A gorgeous array of cherry blossom trees stood as far as the eye could see, freshly bloomed to mark the arrival of springtime. The coastline winds sent an occasional petal fluttering to the grassy terrain below with blossoms backlit crimson due to the setting sun. There still remained ample room between cherry blossom trees for curious travelers or ijin hoping to experience trees native to Hingan lands. 

Between the aforementioned pathways, two large figures trekked their way through the maze of cherry blossom trees, one in front of the other. One figure was an older Raen man, looking to be in his late 50’s and wearing a white haori. The Raen man behind him, appearing to be in his late 20’s, opted for a black happi and hakama pants. In parallel with the setting sun, the man’s eyes were a chilling orange, piercing the darkness with ease as he idly peered about the area. Despite his assumed youth in comparison to the Raen before him, he was a couple ilms taller in height. Slightly above average racially.

The older Raen gave the younger man a passing glance over his shoulder, addressing him in Hingan. <”You are quiet, Zenkoshi-chan. Pray tell your father that which weighs on your mind.”> He urged slowly with a lifted brow.

<”It’s hardly of importance, Kosuke-sama.”> Zenkoshi replied curtly, his spined tail swishing to and fro as he walked. He casted intermittent glances at the older Raen between observations of the general area, falling silent once more. Per custom for them, each Auri addressed the other by first name - family.

Kosuke knitted his brows, letting his stare linger a moment longer before he continued on, leading the pair between trees towards a small clearing in the distance. A little circle of land, cleared of any cherry blossom trees to make way for the circle of empty space. As they neared, Kosuke spoke up. <”Do you know why I’ve taken the pair of us to the island’s north, hmm? Rest assured, there will be no business lost in our absence for an evening. Profits are on the rise as they’ve been for some time and the Wakagashira’s confidence allows my mind to rest. If just for a moment.”> He spoke with a smile, oddly pleasant and soft of voice for a man so ingrained in the Hingan underworld. <”I’m hopeful you’ll learn something of importance here, my son.”>

Zenkoshi refrained from a timely reply, letting a silence sit in the air. <”Mmm. To teach patience and proper humility, perhaps?”> In contrast to his father, the younger man’s voice was removed from all emotion. A cold baritone. <”Wouldn’t be the first time.”>

<”Patience and humility are a must, blood of my blood, this is correct. You will take over the mantle of the Takaneda-gumi when my sun has set beneath the horizons. I wish for you to learn leadership skills in a proper manner. A given courtesy, from father to son.”> Kosuke assured him with a soft look, lingering momentarily before his focus turned back to the pathway.

Zenkoshi was silent.

After another few minutes of walking, the pair of Auri settled upon the circular clearing. Aside from the grassy ground and cherry blossoms surrounding the space, all that was to be noted of in the clearing was an upright stone, carefully flanked by a few others to keep it from toppling over unceremoniously. A few Hingan characters were carved into the stone, reading ‘Here lies my eternal light. May the Kami’s mercy carry you in your afterdays.’ Beneath this, a name in Hingan kanji. ‘Takaneda no Midori.’ 

Kosuke halted before the apparent makeshift tombstone, Zenkoshi settling in to his left. The older Raen spoke, a new somberness manifesting in his voice. <”I...came to understand that I’ve yet to bring you here, Zenkoshi-chan.”> Ignoring or simply not noticing the subtle eyebrow knit with each usage of that ‘honorific’. <“Your mother was taken from us prematurely, as I’m sure you’re aware of. A raging illness, per caretakers.”>

Zenkoshi stared at the tomestone intently, opting out of eye contact with his father, even as he spoke to him directly. A moment passed before he replied. <“Understood. A tragedy. She will be missed.”> Despite the heavy circumstance, his voice remained as is. Cold.

Kosuke slowly inhaled, turning to his son with tears forming rapidly. <“...I realize that we’ve butted heads often, my son. We are two of the same level of hotheadedness, and from this, we have clashed.”> Trailing off as a tear trailed down a scaled cheek. <“However, you are still my own. You will not be taken from me, and I will struggle until my world falls to darkness to see you fulfill your purpose. Whatever purpose that may be.”> Pausing to breathe in, breath shivering from his released emotion. It was clear he didn’t let that brand of sadness be shown often whatsoever, judging by how quickly he wiped the sadness from his expression after a moment longer. He wordlessly extended his arms out to the younger Raen. The offer of an embrace.

Listening with a rhythmically swishing of his tail, Zenkoshi faltered a moment as his father put forth the offer of a hug. <”...Now and forever, father.”> The younger Raen stepped forward, slipping his arms around the elder Raen with a tight embrace. He was still and without further words. 

Kosuke dipped his head, giving an affectionate horn bump to his son as he spoke up. <”Thank you, my blood.”>

Only then, cunningly slipped out of sight in the sleeve of a happi, did Zenkoshi produce a kunai blade poised for the neck.

Without warning, Kosuke forced Zenkoshi back with a sudden gust of Aether-powered wind, launching a shattering haymaker for his son’s temple, unleashing a monstrous yell fueled by frustration and a rush of adrenaline. <”You honorless whelp!”> 

Zenkoshi’s head snapped to the side violently as Kosuke’s haymaker crashed against his temple, forcing the younger Raen to stumble to the ground. He grinded his teeth together as a trickle of fresh blood seeped from a new gash, beginning the slow motions of pushing himself to his feet as another fist came flying for his nose. With a sickening crack, he was forced down yet again.

<”I should have known you would pull this nonsense again!”> Kosuke snarled, jamming an accusatory finger down at his son. <”You could never let it go! To think you would attempt over your mother’s grave…”> Throwing his free hand towards the makeshift tombstone, hands trembling with raw fury. <”Your poor self discipline is a smear on our name!”>

<”A smear on the name of a Hingan criminal family?”> Zenkoshi sneered, cupping a hand over his broken nose. Blood oozing from either nostril. <”You are soft. You are unfit to bring terror to the hearts of Kugane. I have been preparing for turns, and you would deny me the right to bring the masses of Kugane to their knees, old man?”> He, once again, went to shove himself to his feet successfully.

Kosuke roared, throwing a knuckled slug for the younger Auri’s ribcage, forcing him to bend over as another few snaps sounded on impact. With his free hand, he spiked an uppercut for the jaw, sending his son sprawling for the ground as his jaw fractured in a split moment. <”That is not for YOU to decide! You speak of collaborations with the filthy Garlean Empire! You would damn us all without a care in the world!”> Standing over his son with heaving breaths. Knuckles splattered lightly with blood.

Coughing wretchedly, Zenkoshi laid on the stained grasses and lifted his torso, only to be forced down with Kosuke’s sudden stomp onto his rib cage - right where he had a pair of now ruined ribs. Producing the mixture between a grunt and a groan of pain, Zenkoshi was spared a moment, clawing his way to his feet with a series of sharp gasps and teeth clenching. He stood now, hunched over with a hand flat on his abdomen. Each produced breath was pain. As such, he forced himself to slow his adrenaline-fueled hyperventilating. He was wordless.

The older Raen stood there, visibly seething at the audacity of his son. He allowed a silence to hang in the air, before speaking in a threatening growl. <”...And so, another attempt to steal the mantle of Oyabun. Wasted. I will not forgive this cowardice in so holy a location.”> Kosuke held up a finger. 

Zenkoshi continued to hunch in his stance, head bowed. He said nothing.

Kosuke slowly lowered his finger, eying his son with knitted brows. <”You’ve nothing to say? Nothing at all?”> He inquired, stepping towards the younger Auri once.

Zenkoshi kept still. Then, he began to move. Shoulders bouncing softly in a show of quiet laughter while keeping his eyes clamped shut. His fingers crooked inward, clutching at his fractured rib cage as his lips curled back, revealing his full rows of teeth - elongated fangs included. Blood continued to flow.

<”You think this to be a laughing matter, boy?”> Kosuke exclaimed, taking another step towards his son.

In response, Zenkoshi abruptly halted his quiet laughter on command. Opening his eyes, he slowly panned his stare to his father. As his father’s features froze entirely, Zenkoshi spoke.

<”We are fragile no longer.”>

Then, chaos.

With a panicked scream, Kosuke was launched backwards by an unknown force, nearly splintering a cherry blossom tree from the base on merciless impact. A rogue outcropping ripped through the man’s body dangerously close to his spinal area, producing a ghastly exhaling. He collapsed onto knees and elbows, ripping into the grasses as he attempted to lift himself. Almost immediately, he crumbled back down with a bellow. His spine was not having it after that throw. 

Zenkoshi advanced, standing at his full potential. Eyes wide. Teeth gleaming. Tail lashing. Prepared. Calculating.

As Kosuke lifted his head to address his son, the man’s face was drained of all color. His body, previously rippling with a dominant display of hardened confidence, was reduced to a quivering mess. When he spoke, his words escaped as a breathless plea to understand.

<”Midori-chan...what have we brought into this world?”>

Fangs poised to strike, and then, all was dark.

[sukitaro]

Keeping Busy

“What?”

Squinting at her tome, Suki panned her confusion over to a pile of assorted toaster parts. For some reason or another, she had taken the liberty of having Octavia disassembling a toaster for the sake of research. She had fully intended to put it back together, of course, but the Auri had little idea on how to start, as she had purposefully been absent as Octavia took it apart. It was a test. A small one.

She was alone today, save for the company of her Mameshiba, Namazu assistant and Pod. Her Mameshiba was curled up with a chew toy in his maw, her Namazu - Gyozuko - was idling about with a cup of ginger tea to nurse a headache, and her Pod was floating nearby. The Auri was dressed in a casual tank top and shorts, hair pulled upwards into a neat bun and fastened with a pair of Yanxian-style hairpins. It was Sunday.

<”Why am I speaking in Eorzean when I’m alone anyways?”> She mused quietly to herself in Hingan, chin rested comfortably on the gap between index finger and thumb. Mochi slowly lifted his head as Octavia began to speak.

<”Lady Suki, the current time is as follows: Two hours, 14 minutes, 39 seconds, 14 deciseconds, 42 centi-”>

<”Riiiight, thank you for that.”> Suki spoke up, still focused on this pile of toaster portions as her tail swished back and forth to mirror the activity in her mind. Circles. She fell silent, only snapping back to reality as Octavia addressed her again.

<”Calling Lancelot di Martialis on speed-dial.”>

Blinking, Suki turned to the pod and held her hands out. <”Don’t! He’s with his Blitzball crew again. As if he needs to throw away his attention on something I should have at least started on an hour ago.”> The girl spoke with soft frustration, opting to take a seat and fold her hands underneath her chin.

The last couple of days had taken their toll, emotions ranging from grief to confusion. In an effort to broaden her horizons in the world of tech, Suki utilized the time she had alone to learn what she could. With Octavia on standby, she dared not reach out for any other assistance at this time. Taking in a slow breath, she exhaled. The pent-up negativity that had grown over the past day threatened to bubble over as her voice croaked. <”This...I just can’t. How am I to help with anything else if I can’t figure out my own toaster assembly?”>

Octavia floated closer. <”Suggestion for release of detected stress: Kugane.”>

<”Not this time. Ryuki has informed me it’d be best if I kept out of Kugane for a little while. He just didn’t elaborate on it - that’d have been nice.”> Suki cleared her throat, grinning lightly behind her hands, pushing herself to her feet. Pivoting, she dropped to her knees, rapidly pounding at the floor with her hands and flicking her tail high. <”Mochi Mochi Mochi! Walk?”>

Jumping to his paws, Mochi rushed over with the fury of a thousand suns, leaping up to rapidly paw at the Auri’s torso. Out of nowhere, Octavia swooped down and unloaded her trusty water cannon, spritzing the Mameshiba with a charge of water. Mochi scrambled back down, screaming to heavens for a second as Suki stared at the Pod. <”What, why?”>

<”Analysis: Lady Suki’s mental and physical well-being is of the utmost concern. Threat detected.”>

<”Threat? He was giving me love! No more of that.”> Suki shook her head, standing up to grab the Mameshiba’s collar. <”I really need to get my mind off of everything. C’mon, floofybutt!”>

<”Changing name of subject ‘Mameshiba’ from ‘Mochi’ to ‘Floofybutt’. Requesting confirmation.”> Octavia sounded out, greeted with a drawn out pause from the Auri girl. After a long period of silence, the Pod continued. <”Requesting confirmation.”>

<”Denied, denied.”> Suki countered with a handwave, fastening his collar and reaching for a nearby acoustic guitar. Together, she and Mochi made their way upstairs and to the exterior of the house.

It was late afternoon in the Lavender Beds. As Mochi pranced around the front yard, Suki located a tiny ball sitting off to the side. She took a seat on the grass, guitar on her lap as she gave the ball a playful toss up and town. <”Mochiiii.~”> She cooed, peering around for where the Mameshiba had wandered off to. <”Moch - EEK!”> 

Mochi had arrived! Where? At the foot of a Griffin’s ‘stable’. Spacious to easily accommodate for rapidly growing wings and located a bit further up the hillside to allow the creature space to roam and stretch, Valkyrie stared down at the Mameshiba as if she had been blessed with a dinner before dinner. Mochi slowly panned his focus up to stare at the Griffin, letting out a sharp yip. In retaliation, Valkyrie unleashed an ear-piercing bird’s screech to turn the heads of those a mile away. Wings spread and hackles raised. 

Looking for a moment as if he had been electrocuted, with fur bristled and ears pinned back, Mochi whimpered and flopped onto his back, legs up. Okay. You can be the alpha today.

Hunkering down as Valkyrie shrieked, Suki kept a watchful eye on the scene, already on her feet. Too late. <”...Mochi! Mochi, come!”> She yelled, trying to hear herself over the ringing now present in her horns. Tossing the ball in an inviting manner. From the inside of the house, Gyozuko’s voice rang out. <”WHY?”> 

Mochi scrambled to his paws, seeming all-too-eager to return to his mama. Still looking as if he had been electrocuted. He skidded to a halt at Suki’s feet, performing doggo donuts in excitement. 

Suki returned to her seated position, giving the ball a hearty lob towards the main pathway, watching as Mochi rocketed after it. With fingers poised on her guitar, she awaited the Mameshiba’s return. Softly strumming a Xaelic tune.

[sukitaro]

The Underworld

Part 1/2:

Wading through the gleaming streetways of Kugane under it’s midnight rainfall, the hulking silhouette of Ryuki sluggishly wandering the streets of the Rakuza District nearest the Garlean Consulate. Even with the rainfall, the middle-aged Auri opted for a black Yanxian haori, hakama and zori. He was poised in his deceptive hunch, bamboo cane in hand. His head was kept down, but his focus remained forward, golden irises piercing the night from between salt and pepper hair.

The typical crowd to be expected in the Rakuza District was present, albeit in semi-smaller quantities on account of the hour. Merchant shacks and carts had closed for the evening with staff retired to the safety of their homes. Men loitered around, a majority dressed in a black kimono or haori, with little skin to be shown off. Raen Auri, Roegadyn, and Hyur were present in the masses, exchanging words in Hingan. These men likewise populated the less-visible alleyways of the Rakuza District area, performing the occasional swapping of unseen materials - in many cases, some variation of a drug. Despite the vacancy of the merchant stalls and closed teahouses or restaurants, a few establishments continued to operate, nestled in the rear alleyways, ranging from sexually illicit stores to karaoke lounges and bars. The alleyways and surrounding area were kept impeccably clean and unviolated with litter or property defacing. 

As Ryuki neared the strip of the Rakuza District nearest the Garlean Consulate, he halted at the steps of a specific karaoke lounge - in contrast to the few others that sat in the more hidden reaches, this lounge made no effort to keep out of sight. The light from within held a reddish hue, illuminating the exterior with a soft crimson glow. A man stood idly to one side of the main entrance, dressed in a floor-length black and grey yukata, a mess of chocolate hair covering his forehead. A katana was boldly sheathed at a hip, and despite the occasional patrol units of the Sekiseigumi, this potentially criminal offense was spared not more than a passing glance by roaming guards before turning to continue along their route. He casted a side-long glance towards Ryuki as he approached, holding it for a moment before dipping into a respectful bow. He turned his attention towards the streets when this had concluded.

Ryuki slowly returned the gesture, stepping into the karaoke lounge with careful footsteps. The interior of the entrance hall was exquisite, adorned with high quality Hingan sake and whiskey to break the bank of a typical visitor. Gorgeous black leather couches and seats sat neatly in the general seating area, fine porcelain wares studded in imperial-quality jade standing on display on tabletops nearby. Authentic works of Hingan and Doman art were hung along the walls, varying in styles from ukiyo-e to Yanxian landscape painting. Private karaoke rooms were layered along hallways branching from either side of the entrance hall, with all listed as ‘Unoccupied’ in Hingan kanji except for one karaoke room at a hallway end listed as ‘In Use’. Despite the lack of complete lack of patronage in the hallway or anywhere in sight, the faint scent of cigar smoke sat in the air.    

A brawny Sea Wolf Roegadyn silently tended to the bar area, organizing glasses and sanitizing what was in reach. He boasted a full suit and tie, along with polished dress shoes and a slicked back head of navy blue hair. As Ryuki made his presence known, the Roegadyn spoke up in curt Hingan, halting his cleaning to bow in the expected Eastern fashion. <”A familiar face. Good evening. How may I assist you this evening? Might I start you off with something to drink, or would you like to rent out a room?”> 

Ryuki, with his haori and hakama partially plastered down by rainwater, dipped at the waist in turn. Replying in Hingan. <”Good evening. I respectfully decline your offer. I have business with yours’.”> Maintaining an even eye contact, he made a mental note of the shotgun in the Roegadyn’s holster.

Despite the vague explanation for his arrival, the Roegadyn knitted his brows, gesturing towards one end of a hallway with an open palm. <”...I am of the assumption you understand where to go. Thank you for stopping by, Kotaro-sama.”> With a parting bow, he slowly pivoted on a heel, returning to his mindless cleaning.

The Auri man returned the gesture graciously, turning his attention towards the hallway to his left. Leading with his bamboo cane, he made his way for the peak end of the hallway where the private room marked ‘In Use’ sat. He stood before the door a moment before twisting the knob, pushing the door open and revealing a downward staircase. What began as a faint trace of smoke in the main entrance area amplified in intensity as Ryuki began his descent. Upon arrival at the base of the staircase and with further travel down another hallway, he peered up, greeted with the hanging scroll that marked the entrance of a place unknown to the masses too cowardly or blissfully unaware. Upon the scroll laid a bold daimon.

The daimon of the Takaneda-gumi.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2/2:

Stepping into the space with a gentle opening of the entrance door, Ryuki stood still with his hunch persisting. The interior space was moderately lit with Hingan lanterns along the wall, alongside various Hannya masks that seemed prepared to come alive at a moment’s notice. As was the case in the upstairs area, the space was adorned with priceless Eastern paintings, velvet crimson couches and traditional cushions and randomly placed jade statues of Eastern serpents and terrifying creatures of legend. Expensive bottles of Eastern sake and whiskey littered the tables. Of all the aspects to note, one stood out in contrast to the Eastern-lounge feel to the space -- the small number of Imperial banners that hung, showcasing the widely denounced Garlean insignia. A group of men loitered about against the walls or on sofa cushions with bottles of sake in hand. Roegadyn, Raen Auri and Hyur. In contrast to the bartender above, these men boasted some variation of a sleeveless haori or no shirt at all. A myriad of Eastern irezumi inkings coated the skin of what was visible, leaving only the face unmarked. The majority chatted idly with one another in the native tongue. A smaller cluster were huddled at a table, lost in a game of Doman Mahjong with a handsome quantity of koban on the line. The scent of smoke hung thickly, sourced collectively from lit cigars. Everyone present looked occupied in some fashion, speaking in casual Hingan without a care in the world.

That is, until Ryuki made his presence known.

The Raen man advanced into this new space with a bow, greeted with the wary side-long looks of the majority present including the group involved in the game of Doman Mahjong. Seeming overall unperturbed by the attention and sudden silence, Ryuki hardly gave the group a passing glance as he made his way for another room across the way flanked by twin Eastern serpent statues and scrolls showcasing the Takaneda-gumi daimon.

<”I am obliged to understand what you are doing here, Kotaro-san.”> A gruff voice in Hingan called out. 

Ryuki slowly peered over his shoulder, met with viciously scarred Midlander man. The accursed third ‘Garlean eye’ visible on his forehead with his mop of hair slicked back. <”My reasons for a visitation are of no concern to you, shateigashira.”> Ryuki grunted.

The Garlean Hyur canted his head. <”No concern to me? Is that the case? I speak to the man whose Clan nearly sent our operations spiraling into extinction following the liberation of your pitiful excuse for a home. You dare treat me as a chip on your shoulder, you Eorzean-sympathizing bastard?”>

<”That will be all. I pray to the Kami your oyabun will teach you respect. You are as a lawless babe, threatened by those that question your hotheaded temper. How many times must we have this interaction, Raekis-san?”> Ryuki mused, turning about half-way. <”I do understand this to be a common flaw present in the Garlean population.>”

The Garlean Hyur gnashed his teeth, reaching for a dagger nestled away. Halfway through his motion, under the squinted stare from Ryuki, he stopped. <”...We will have our day, Kotaro-san. You will find yourself a Clan patriarch, with no Clan.”> Casting a smoldering look at the door nearby, he pivoted on a heel to walk off. Likely to burn off steam.

Huffing, Ryuki approached the doorway flanked by Eastern serpents and hanging Takaneda-gumi scrolls. Remembering his mannerisms, he delivered a knock on the door. 

<”Come in, Kotaro-San.”> A low voice responded with not a moment to spare before Ryuki could get a word out. Smooth and confident.

Adjusting his haori, Ryuki pensively pushed his way into the space at the voice’s invitation. The ‘office’ was akin to a more condensed version of the underground lounge he had arrived from, with the addition of an ornate fool’s portal mounted on the wall. 

A monstrous Raen man sat comfortably on a leather chair to the rear of the office before a desk, kiseru pipe pinched between fingers. Even in comparison to Ryuki, who stood a few ilms taller than your average Auri when his hunch was lifted, this man-in-waiting was taller still by a few more ilms - almost abnormally so. He looked between 30 and 35 in age, rippling with scarred and irezumi inked muscle underneath a luxurious suit and tie. A hefty tail resembling that of a komodo dragon with a hazardous quantity of spines and jagged edges hung from the edge of his seat. A pair of cold, calculating irises bore viciously into Ryuki the moment he worked the door open, orange in color and glowing with a feral intensity. His skin was a tan caramel in shade and hair a short mess of black, spiked forward and partially shielding his right eye. A pair of ridged horns angled downward and forward from his skull like animal canines. He faced the door with legs crossed in the male fashion, tapping a pointed fingernail against his kiseru pipe as he suppressed the urge to greet his visitor with an unnerving, fanged smile. 

<”I am truly blessed this evening. Please, take a seat, Kotaro-san.”> The man gestured to the Eastern cushion purposefully placed before his desk. A power play to all who dared request an meeting.

Eying the cushion, Ryuki shook his head, bowing slowly. <”With all due respect, I would wish to stand. Takaneda no Zenkoshi.>” He spoke the man’s full name, tapping his bamboo cane into the floor.

<”You would do well to remember your place in my pecking order, Kotaro-san.”> Zenkoshi remarked with a lift of his brow, extending a finger to gesture to his guest’s bamboo cane. <”An impressive act. However, I am a man of authenticity.”> He took a generous hit of his kiseru pipe. <”Would you not agree?”>

Ryuki knitted his brows, placing his cane against the doorway and rolling his shoulders back. He stood at his full height, hunch dropping entirely. The man stood with his hands at his side, eying the crime lord warily. <”I will stand. Do me harm, and suffer the unending wrath of my people, oyabun-”>

<”Your ‘people’?”> Zenkoshi interrupted, head tilted softly to the side. <”Your people are fewer with each passing month, Kotaro-san. Your numbers…”> He trailed off, taking another puff of his kiseru pipe. <”...I can name on a hand. As you can see, I have been a busy man.”> Opening a palm and gesturing to the hideout on the outside, smiling. <”My men live as nobility. I, myself, the emperor I was destined to be.”>

<”Even with your much beloved financial masters fractured and left to wander?”> Ryuki mused, arms folded across his torso. <”The Garlean Empire is in hopeless disrepair. Soldiers and civilians have fled. Squadrons disbanded. With your funding strained, what remains of your brutish band of traffickers and petty criminals?”>

Zenkoshi chuckled darkly behind his kiseru pipe, pinning it between his elongated fangs for the moment. Speaking up. “<Petty criminals...without koban, we are stripped of potential. Although.”> He released his pipe. <”Hard times create strong men. I am apologetic on your behalf. Your Clan’s mindless vigilante days have produced a storm beyond your understanding.”> The Raen continued on with a fine squint.

 Staring at the oyabun with a stoic expression, Ryuki produced a gutteral hum from deep within his throat. <”Takaneda-sama, I implore you to move past this. I have repeatedly taken accountability for my Clan’s hotheaded actions. Dealing with your mettle is best left to the Sekiseigumi, easily enticed by koban as they are.”> He spoke with blatant distaste on his tongue. 

<”You fail to witness the deep-seated effects of your ‘glory days’.”> He pointed his kiseru pipe at the older man. <”Wrenched operation after operation bled us dry of much of our support. Even much of the Empire has learned to fear the Shinobi, it would seem.”> Zenkoshi frowned. <”I do wonder. Who remains? The patriarch...and his heiress.”> Slowing his speech as he neared the end.

<”This conflict is between you and I.>” Ryuki spoke up without a moment to spare, jamming a finger at the ground between the two. <”You and I. This occurred on my watch.”> 

Zenkoshi lifted a palm. <”Are you so lost beyond your years you forget the business in which I operate, old friend?”> Sneering. <”An heiress of so feared a Clan would fetch a fortune. Or, if this is not to your liking, she can remain here? How lonely this office can be...”> He mused, looking off to the side. <”If you wish to end this ‘bickering’ as you so graciously label it.”>

<”This is OUT of the question!”> Ryuki roared, slamming his palms atop the oyabun’s desk. <”You have enough koban and material wealth to last an eternity. I will hear NONE of this rabble.”> He hissed between clenched teeth, leaning forward to drill his reptilian gaze into the crime lord. <”I will bleed you in the dead of night.”>

In an impressive display of collectiveness, Zenkoshi remained in his seated position. He snapped his kiseru pipe with a sudden tensing up of the hand, irises ablaze with fury as his lips curled back to reveal his vicious set of teeth. <”I am going to recommend a soothing dip in the Onsen to ease that tension, Kotaro-san. Have a lovely evening. I will keep in touch.”> The man spoke with an unnatural coolness, veins popping along his neck.

Visibly shaking from a narrowly restrained anger, Ryuki lifted himself from his aggressive lean, watching the oyabun from start to finish. Wordless tension. With a pivot on his heel, he grabbed his bamboo cane, exiting the office and heading for the upstairs. Ignoring the clusters of Takaneda-gumi that had gathered following his sudden outburst.

Zenkoshi slowly laced his fingers atop his desk, leaning back with a hot exhale of breath.

<”In time.”>

[sukitaro]

Unseen Machinations

Nearest the hour of true midnight, Suki silently trekked her way along the main Mists roadway, flanked on her left by a darkened ocean horizon. The rhythmic crashing of gentle waves against shoreline rock faces did it’s part in keeping her footsteps casually slow. In her mind, there were few natural melodies sweeter to her senses. Her eyelids lowered just a tad, only to lift up once again as she had arrived at her destination - her beloved Onsen estate.

She silently opened the main door to the interior izakaya, dutifully removing her boots and leaving them off to the side before making her way for the hallway to lead to the Onsen ‘dorms’. Much had unfolded in the previous few weeks in way of development and drastic alterations to her daily way of life. Even with the looming apprehension of rehearsing for the Onsen’s much beloved seasonal Street Faire, her focus was elsewhere. A fresh environment with the widest array of technological wonders and tools of war a rather superstitious girl could imagine. She favored her beasts - be in domestic or far too massive for a household setting - but spent what free time she was afforded learning of such convoluted mechanical theories and tricks. It was of benefit to learn the basics in any given field. Difficulties inevitable, she was hardly alone in her attempt to understand.

Her assistance came in the form of cat ears, a love for chocobos and an unending zeal for the exciting things in life, be it Blitzball or Magitek inventions.

He was a man known to her for the better portion of a year. Their time spent getting to know one another had been woefully cut short time and time again. Still, time and time again he solidified himself as a stalwart protector. It wasn’t until the conclusion of the return of the accursed Kisaragi that she learned a rather unfortunate truth. He was…

She halted as she neared her room. She settled her gaze upon her front door, opened as wide as the hinges would allow for. The Raen knitted her brows together, casting a wary look over her shoulder down the long pass of the hallway. Having returned from her exploration of the wider Coerthas and Dravanian area that week, she began to wonder if she -had- forgotten to shut her door before embarking. Perhaps.

Inhaling, Suki reached for a hoodie pocket, pulling free a diminutive Kunai blade. She crept for the interior of her room, as low to the ground as she could bend. The Raen stood in the center of her relatively empty abode, feet shoulder width apart. She let the sound of silence hang for the moment before pivoting on a heel, shutting her room door with a gentle ‘click’.

“Took your time, did you?”

A silhouette stood, leaned lazily against the wall to her left with arms folded. Decked out in an impressive show of odd armor, littered with metallic plate and small sections of artificially glowing light with a neon red tint. He was a Midlander of taller-than-average stature, any defining features were masked by black metallic leathers and a masked hood, two slits of gleaming red to allow for adequate sight. He stared off to the opposite side of the small room, seeming generally disinterested in however the Auri would take to his presence.

Suki whipped about, jamming the tip of her wielded Kunai blade towards the unexpected guest. She was hardly equipped for a confrontation. A white hoodie, black jeans and grey faux fur boots were all she had on her person. <”What exactly do you think you’re doing?”> Her tone was sharp, tail swiping at the air in a clear show of aggression. <”Are you lost?”>

The stranger drummed his digits along his biceps. “I dare not speak your savage tongue.” Continuing in Eorzean Common as she spoke in native Hingan. “I was feeling a bit lonely. We are social creatures.” He droned on, pushing himself from the wall and sauntering towards the shoji screen leading to the nightly futon. As he slid it open with a finger, he casted a look over his shoulder. “Never quite understood your deplorable cultural fascinations with everything paper and fragile.”

“I have not the time or willpower to explain to an intruder. Get. Out.” Suki tightened her grip on her Kunai, taking a footstep forth. “You wish for company? Pester one of your own. You reek of Magitek. I am not fooled easily when dealing with your kind.”

“My own?” He mused, slowly pivoting on a heel to face her head-on. Still a yalm in distance from her readied blade. “They are convenient at best, aimless at worse. After all...yours’ is a face I have committed to memory. How long? Two winters?” He regarded the Auri with a canted head, arms at his sides. Cool, confident, and plainly sure she would do no harm. “Torvath had always proven himself little more than a screeching meathead unfit to lead a band of infants, let alone a squadron to call his own.” The stranger fell silent, a transparent and complicated ring of an unknown pattern manifesting before his left eye. Floating and analyzing, as if he had activated something amidst the monologue. “Did you think us gone?”

Knitting her brows, Suki listened with an increasingly puzzled expression. “Ralis quo Torvath? His squadron? I had hoped you lot would have found better ways to go about your day. Regardless, you are of little worry to me. Just another name to be forgotten in a winter’s time!” She charged, Kunai poised for the throat in a stabbing motion.

The Midlander’s recently produced ‘red ring’ sparked in intensity, sending a pressurized pulse to burst from the center point.

The Auri’s Kunai fell to splinter the tatami flooring, hands flying up to grip at her horns as she collapsed to her knees a few yalms away. Her knuckles were white. Tail curled upwards in a sharp display of discomfort. Lowering her forehead to the tatami, veins popped along her throat and forehead, her limbs following suit - even if covered with loose fabric. Feeble attempts to speak were muted, as if she feared an open mouth would subject her interior to the same agony. The pressurized pulse continued to radiate in waves, rattling her teeth.

“What a situation. You wish to discuss ‘better ways to go about my day’?” He approached the downed Raen, standing over her form and leaning down. “Magitek mastery. Allagan enhancements. The knowledge of the VIIth Legion is hardly lost to me.” With his closer proximity, the waves of pressurized pulses savagely spiked in severity.

Suki tore her elongated canines into the tatami flooring, splintering the material as small cracks formed within her horns and sections of her tail. After some time more, a tail spine detached entirely, falling to the tatami in a shattered heap of fragments. Blood welled up from her palms, grip on her horns reaching a critical high. Still, no words came out.

The stranger, after another few moments of maintaining his produced pulse, abruptly cut it off. The ring hovering before his left eye dissipated, sending the Auri onto her stomach in panicked heaves. He watched her silently, pivoting on a heel and heading for the front door. “Perhaps in another scenario, you will remember this day. Choose your battles wisely.”

Suki carefully watched him leave, just in time to see him open up her door. He slowly faded into nothing, and after another moment, all was quiet. Letting her head drop again, she caught her breath. Mind racing.

It was a doomed second encounter waiting to happen.

[sukitaro]

Behind The Veil

All was relatively still beneath the waning midnight horizons, save for the periodic chirping of the nocturnal insect population outside the Eastern estate. The many residents of the Uranami Onsen residency had retired for the remainder of the evening, respective sources of light manually toggled off with a small handful of slumberous Namazu idling about in the main izakaya and lobby. To pass the dreary hours of the graveyard shift, some opted to keep their attention sturdy through overly-caffeinated matcha teas or sugary Eastern candy. It was an unfavorable shift to be stuck with, but someone had to do it. 

At this time, the placid flickering of a Hingan lantern casting a faint show of light within the otherwise darkened Onsen quarters belonging to a resident nearest the highest floor. The room was the true making of a minimalist - aside from a few scrolls and ukiyo-e works of art, there was little to behold. A Mameshiba slumbered away peacefully off to the side of the main tatami flooring, black nose burrowed contentedly against his flank of golden brown. Nearby, a Namazu sat, back propped up against a portion of the interior walling. Periodic twitching and shifting suggested that the catfish was not quite dormant for the evening.

A young Raen woman sat atop the tatami flooring in a lotus position, slouched over a desk placed onto the floor likewise - she preferred the familiar sensation of operating much of her day sitting down as they had frequently done in the East. Dressed in a simple black yukata, her chin was propped up lazily by an open palm with the appropriate elbow resting downward against the surface of her wooden workspace. The woman stared into blissful nothingness, eyes half-lidded and subtle hinting of under-eye circles made apparent with her lantern’s glow. She was silent, hair bun unkempt and laying flaccidly to her rear. She had assumed this position for the better part of four hours, following the conclusion of a gloriously successful street festival. It was an instant transition.

“Master Suki?...You have not moved since we arrived home, yes yes.”

The pensive voice of a catfish sounded. The previously seated Namazu, now standing, watched the woman from behind tentatively. Fins at either side. “Tea? Fluffy abomination?” He pointed a fin at the dozing Mameshiba who continued to slumber away without a care in the world. “Lemongrass tea, yes yes?” 

After a lingering pause, and with no effort made to rotate her torso or alter her current position, Suki spoke. It was as equally soft as it was lacking in positive emotional vibrance. “You need not, Gyozuko-chan. Please take my futon for the remainder of the night, hmm?” She continued to eye the wall before her, for reasons perhaps known to her and her alone.

Gyozuko fell silent, casting a side-long glance at the futon past the open shoji screen to his right. How comfortable that bed must have been. Still, he slowly squeaked his way to the Raen’s side, watching her diverted attention with those unsettlingly beady eyes. “This is the fourth evening in a row you have pulled these shenanigans. How do you plan on helping the Onsen on pitiful hours of sleep a week, hmm?” He crossly folded his fins. “A pair of fin’s worth of hours per night will leave you dry!” Holding up his fins. Two.

“I assure you, I can perform my needed tasks without issue.” Suki briefly cut her darkened gaze to the Namazu standing beside her. “...Besides, it is hardly appropriate of someone at my ranking to do this before the public eye. Let me be this way now so I may be joyful when I open my front door.” Cutting her stare forward once again.

“No no! You must talk.” Gyozuko pointed a fin in an accusatory manner. “What good is your optimism and smiling outside your home if you resort to…this when all is said and done?” Gesturing with his fins.

“I do my job with a smile. This is what matters.” Suki replied sluggishly. “Why must the rest be something to fret over?”

The catfish lifted a fin. “Ever since your ‘trip’ to Yanxia, you have fallen further and further. When that Kami-damned mark appeared on your neck, I did not imagine it could become a situation worse, and then…he disappeared.” Gyozuko’s voice was reduced to a momentary squeak. 

“Honestly, Gyozuko!” The Raen shoved herself to her feet, narrowly catching herself before an unfortunate topple atop her tatami. “How I act out of the gaze of my coworkers is suddenly a pressing issue?” She jammed a finger in the air, snapping around to stand over the smaller being. Although, it was only by some inches. “You are my assistant! Do you think this a component of your responsibilities?! Do you think you make your living off of anything but your list of tasks?” 

Gyozuko snapped his fins in front of him on reflex. “N-No no! I-I just…” The catfish shamefully dipped his gaze, staring at the tatami. “...Is ensuring you are healthy and happy not what an assistant does? Does it always have to be lists of tasks scribbled on a scroll? Y-You have always vouched for us when guests have sneered, so I thought you...understood. This does not have to be about work right now, Master Suki.” His voice faltered.

Suki held her fatigued stare on the Namazu for a moment longer, before sitting down before her desk with trembling legs. Wordlessly, she folded her arms atop her desk, laying her head down with face pointed to the left. “Maybe I miss home. Maybe it is a feeling of betrayal. Maybe...what I want will never be achievable.” She swallowed. “That is a frightening possibility. Living your life with your true desire dangling just ilms out of reach with each grab…” She lifted her head, turning it to rest frontally against her folded arms. “I-I am sorry I said for what I-”

“No more of this, Master Suki.” Gyozuko tapped a fin against the Auri’s shoulder. “Yes yes? A happy home is worth more than all the koban I could fit in the Onsen storage. Let me help you - let those who love and care about you help you. But you have to let them.” The Namazu stepped back. “Sometimes...I think the worst. If you d-did something drastic, I do not know wh-where I would g-go…” He pressed his fins against blubbery cheeks, eyes glistening over with freshly made tears. “I-I would not want another Master…”

With little hesitation, Suki pushed herself from her seated position, approaching the Namazu and kneeling to wrap the catfish into an embrace. Fairly equal in height. “Gyozuko-chan, none of this, okay…?” The Raen spoke tenderly. “I swear to you by all I have to offer that my name lives on. The Kami has a great plan for all of us, after all.~ Promise me you believe this?”

Gyozuko sighed, releasing the woman and stepping back. He contemplated. “...Yes yes. Yes yes!” Tapping his forehead with a fin after patting at his eyes. “Good news, very good! I must insist you still have some tea.”

Suki waved a hand, turning to head for the kitchen. “I will see that it is taken care of, silly one.” She teased quietly. “Now I am the one to owe you after all of that. Your favorite, so...matcha?”

[sukitaro]

On the Prowl

Underneath a blanket of stars and a waning moon, the drums of war had slowed to a silence. The battered remains of Domans, Steppe Xaela and Imperials had been cleared from the still-bloodied fields of the mountain valley, leaving desolation and destroyed Magitek in their wake. For once, at the end of a 20 year reign of cold terror, Yanxia was still. The time for mourning those souls lost in the midst of battle had come.

And yet, for some, a still lingering bloodlust would give their minds no quarter for peace. 

A lone Imperial deserter bellowed hopelessly beneath the Yanxian sky, ambushed by a previously unseen saboteur clad in Eastern leathers. Forced to a knee from an opened left kidney, the soldier struggled against his assailant, who had opted to attack from the rear and constrict their legs around the man’s unguarded throat. With each frantic heartbeat, the Imperial’s fresh wound continued to pool upon the terrain beneath the pair. 

“Y-You savages have taken your filthy land back! What more do you -need-? What am I supposed to give you? A man with nothing left to lose?” The Imperial hissed, once again flailing to grab hold of the assailant sitting atop his back. 

The ivory scaled saboteur reclined to create distance between herself and the man’s grip, her grip around her Kunai blades constricting. Wedging a Kunai between her sash, she joined her fists at the knuckle, flexing her digits and launching an open hand for the man’s throat, forcing his head back. A cruel surge of Aetheric electricity seized the man’s body, sending each bodily nerve into a tailspin of pain. Rocking forward, the Imperial came crashing down onto his torso, shaking violently as his metallic suit of armor did him no favors.

A pair of hateful, cold irises stared down at her newfound mark without a care. “A nothing man, with nothing to lose? How poetic.” She cooed in her native accent, uncoiling her legs from around the throat. A short-lived mercy, as a heel soon found its mark on the back of the man’s throat, the leathered-clad assailant sinking into a crouch. “You and I are going to be here for a long time.~” She hissed in his ear, leaning down to put further weight onto her mark as she snatched her sheathed Kunai. “Beg. I want you to beg.”

“Treacherous bitch!” The deserter spat, teeth ground against the increasing weight of her pin. “Torvath was far too merciful on your band of treacherous mountain vermin! I will die cursing your name!” He devolved into crazed laughter, as much a wheeze as it was. “Kill me then - you think any better fate awaits me in Garlemald after this failure? The Emperor is merciless! Do me the favor, savage.” 

“Oh, fret not.~ You will get your wish. And yet…” She canted her head to the side, still forcing his own head back. “Did you not hear me? I said...a long time.” Purposefully emphasizing her promise, the assailant poised her dagger for the man’s lips. “How about we make use of this vile mouth, hmm? Tell me where he is.”

The Imperial’s throat tightened. “I-I haven’t the slightest clue! Torvath has been unaccounted for since the battle was lost to your ilk! You waste your time with me.”  He sneered, locking eyes with his assailant’s blazing emerald. “You're the assassin I’ve been hearing about picking off deserters, no? Try your luck elsewhere.”

Lifting her shoulders, the woman flipped her dagger in her hand, slashing across the Imperial’s eyes with one soundless movement. Ignoring the curdling screams produced, she let up from the man’s throat, hacking into his uninjured kidney with her second Kunai. With a vicious twist of her blade, she ripped it free from now-ruptured muscle, stepping off of his writhing form with her fists at her side. Her blades were stained crimson, with warm blood falling from either blade tip to defile the terrain below. What little emotion that could be discerned from a heavily-clad woman could be considered neutral. She stood still, watching the Imperial deserter rip free blades of grass from the terrain below in a futile attempt to stop the pain. Blood freely escaping through tear ducts and ruptured kidneys.

As the Imperial erupted with vile profanities and meaningless threats of vengeance, he tore at the space around him, covering his eyes with his palms. “It doesn’t matter how many you leave to die! You will not find him!” The Imperial bellowed, crumbling onto his side. “I pray you rot in your sleep!” 

“He is too dangerous a man to be let to live.” The assailant spoke plainly. “The Doman patrols should be by soon to pick up what’s left of you after the Bi Fang feast.” She pivoted on a heel. “Pray on my downfall as you like. There is no rest for the wicked.”

[sukitaro]

Clutch of Madness

An asphyxiating void. No glimmer of life, for as far as the eye could see. Landscape abandoned and crippled by a foreign evil. To many, a land robbed of identity. 

Yet, it was not. This was home. The mountainous terrain of Yanxia lay wasted, bamboo forests severed and clear lake waters run dry. Native populations of Bi Fang and Vanara litter the once-vibrant landscape, forms grotesquely contorted and maws agape from an unspeakable onset of terror. Nestled behind tainted mountaintops, the annihilated remnants of an encampment sat scattered, tarps tattered and support beams splintered beyond repair. 

This is where it began. 

Wildly scrambling to grip brittle blades of fallen flora, Suki shattered the ominous silence with a series of hollow gasps. She felt akin to drowned soul mere moments away from the clutch of death, eyes bulging and hand clutching the heaving abdomen of her hunched form. In this moment, she was allowed a once-over of her apparel. Rags, drenched in crimson blood, offering her futile protection against the malevolence yet to come. It was only when she began the motion of lifting herself to peer at the encampment destruction before her did it speak. A jumbled garble of slopping pronunciations, and an echo of many voices as one.

“That is not dead, which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.”

Clamping her head in her hands, Suki’s attempt at pushing herself to her feet was sent crashing down. A savage pulse of pressure within the confines of her head sent forth an agonized yelp, accompanied by a sudden scorching sensation along the base of her spine. The burning sensation traveled up the length of her spine, igniting her connecting nerves with a similar feeling of discomfort, until it reached the apex - unleashing a flaming vengeance into her mind to accompany periodic pulses of pressure. Again, it spoke, but from each corner of her mind. No escape.

“That is not dead, which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.”

“No! Out! Get out of my head!” She exclaimed, combating increasing paranoia. Sluggishly dragging herself to her feet, they came. Endless whispers, jeering from the unknown. “No purpose. Cowardly. Alone.” In what she perceived to be a hope in ending the taunts, Suki advanced forward, body aflame with burning. “Futile. Insignificant. Unwanted.” 

Pleading silently, the Auri stopped in the center of the encampment ruin, feeling the raging scorch along her spine transition into a sudden inferno, sending her to hands and knees once more with a tormented scream. Fingers flexed to grip the disturbed soil of ruined ground. “What do you want from me?! What have I done?” 

But she would have no answer. Instead, manifesting before her eyes, a pair of fallen tigers. Limbs splayed in a show of fear-induced rigor mortis, eyes absent from open sockets, and pelt marred and tattered beyond comprehension. Staring at this new development with jarred horror, Suki felt her crippled form tremble. “Give in. Your anger. Your fear.” 

Unbeknownst to the Auri, her emotions now lay at the mercy of an unseen Puppetmaster, unbridled rage and terror manifesting as pulsing waves of black and crimson shadow. Together now, converging as one and rising to create a mass of shadow, with a humanoid silhouette. A pair of avian wings burst forth from either side of this unknown mass, accompanied with a hateful red stare illuminating from within the dark. Standing over the couple of tiger bodies. “I...am...eternal...” 

“Y...You...no. You have been cut down, like the abominations before you! You will haunt my conscious no longer!” Suki cried out towards the unknown creation, still battling the pulsing agony from body and mind as the whispers gave no quarter. “I am a part of you now, foolish girl. I am your sin. I am your savior.” From the shadow, a pair of tendrils launched from either avian wing, tightly constricting the young Auri and robbing her of any chance of exit. “Submit.”

Inhaling sharply, Suki crumbled to her knees, ducking her head in an attempt to cancel out the taunting speech. To no avail. “Your friends will fall like insects. Your children will scream for you in the night. Your nightmares will see no end. That is not dead, which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.” Grinding her teeth, tears trailed down her cheeks, eyes clamped shut. “Out...get out!” The scorching along her spine seemed to magnify in alignment with her display of desperation, resulting in another chilling scream. “That is not dead, which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.”

In an instant, encasing tendrils constricted with a bone-cracking force, ending the horror. For now.