Immortal Ties » Arcs » Chapter One

The beginning

As written by: Cloud, Layla, Quakernuts, Εpιmetheus, Verix, blondehaired, an edgar allan poet, Irrefutablescion, rubytuesday

30 pieces and 20 characters involved, written by 9 different authors.

Luciana de Silva

Marlon Page

Kohaku

Cassius Dōriēwes

Minako

Seung

Teruki Satou

Alucio

Cara Chung

Ikeda Shiori

Ryan 'Rango' Prosker

Basil Gardner

Jiangyu Bai

Kohta Honda

Aera Lee

Seok Areum

Kaede Shimizu

Wyatt Costanza

La Verne Caron

Paola Millán

1 places involved

Tokyo, Japan

So begins...

Chapter One

Setting: Tokyo, Japan

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CHAPTER ONE: THE BEGINNING
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Date: Evening, 1st April, 2017
Location: Tokyo City, Japan
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xxxOnce, before Tokyo had been given its name, before tall spires of metal dominated the horizon and light polluted the sky, one could see the stars. They say it was the gods who wove constellations into the otherwise blank expanse of night sky; exposing pinpricks of light to tell stories of legends that would transcend time. Yet, as civilisation grew ever skywards, electric lights began to drown out the natural illumination of the night sky. There are still those who remember centuries long gone, whose gaze at the night sky and remember a time when it was only clouds that interrupted their view. The constellations had changed since they were young, shifting across the Earth’s sky as time flowed forward. Yet, more than one could still take comfort in the beauty of it.

xxx “A shame really.” The man commented absently, his gaze fixed upwards, past the canopy of sky-scrapers towards the sliver of cloudless ink visible above. “Once you could have made out millions of stars from anywhere in the prefecture.”

xxxThe surly teenager seated beside him grunted and shifted slightly away, unsure who this stranger was and why he had randomly started talking to him.

xxx “I made it, you know.” The man continued, an almost smug smile on his face as he leaned against the park bench. He didn’t seem to care that the youth was resolutely staring at the screen of his cell phone, attempting to tune out the rambling stranger. “I mean, I made everything really. You’re welcome by the way.” He paused and glanced at the mortal, as if expecting a ‘thank you’, or any other form of gratitude. When none was offered the man merely continued talking, “But, I am particularly proud of the stars. ”

xxxThe man’s dark eyes returned to the small portion of the sky not covered in thick cloud. He held his hand in front of his eyes, stretched out as if he might pluck the very stars from their homes in the sky. Instead, he waved his hand slowly from side to side, as if waving away a particularly bad smell. A satisfied smile lit his face as his hand fell to his side,

xxx “There, you see!” The man said, nodding towards the now cloudless sky. Though the light from numerous skyscrapers still dimmed the brightest of the stars, they seemed stronger now, shimmering happily above the world below. “Much better.”

xxxThe youth merely grunted again, his hands fiddling headphones into his ears as he attempted to tune out the well-dressed man beside him. Unfortunately, the man’s voice continued to blare through the headphones, as if the younger man’s music wasn’t playing at all.

xxx “I fancy myself as a bit of an artist, if I’m being frank.” He continued, a note of pride creeping into his words, “You see that tree there? I designed it, right down to the edges on the leaves.”

xxxThe teenager didn’t even glance up, too busy checking that he had plugged his headphones in properly. Of all the nights for them to stop working, it had to be when he was getting his ear talked off by some mental stranger.

xxxFrom behind the pair a female voice replied, full of barely contained impatience, “I think you’ll find that I was the one to design that tree. If I remember correctly, you were still babbling on about how sludge was going to be the next big thing.” The woman snorted in amusement. “Well, we all know how that went.”

xxx “Excuse me for trying to do something different.” He retorted hotly, even as he slid across the park bench to make space for the new arrival. Beside him, the irritated youth was silently cursing the two adults who had interrupted his brooding and was quickly stuffing his phone into his backpack. Without a word the kid stood, pulled his hood tightly over his head, and walked away.

xxxThe two gods barely seemed to register the departure, more concerned with the back and forth that had begun. “I make one mistake and you never let me forget it. I made flowers, and gave the world bees. Who doesn’t like bees?” His hands made exaggerated movements in the air.

xxx “One mistake? Oh, I can count at least three dozen you’ve made in the last decade alone.” The female retorted, slapping his hands casually away. She opened her mouth to continue, before changing her mind and instead adding, “But I didn’t come to bicker with you.”

xxxHe nodded. His partner had come for the same reason he had. He stood up slowly, stretching out his tall frame, before offering a hand to the woman. She took it with a nod, her head tilting slightly in a wordless expression of ‘after you’.

xxxA second later the two figures blinked into existence on the wind-swept top of a sky-scraper. From here they could see the city sprawled out below them; neon, artificial lights marking roads, shop advertisements, and the lit windows of residential apartments. Above them, cleared of the thick layer of clouds, was the night’s blanket of stars.

xxxThough no eyes – mortal or otherwise – happened to glance up at the tip of the building, had someone done so, they would have seen two immortals bathed in moonlight, watching their world with a confidence only the gods know. They were one and the same, and yet separate, two entities burning in a universe of their creation.

xxxHe was tall and pale, his feet rooted solidly in the ground beneath him even while his hands reached heavenward. His cheekbones were chiselled from marble, sharp enough to cut mountains. Dark eyes of endless knowledge inspected his world, while strands of hair the same pitch black were pushed back from his face with lithe fingers. His appearance was similar to natives of this land, albeit almost concentrated, as if he were the original that all others had been moulded by.

xxxShe, on the other hand, had the dark, warm skin of someone who would have been marked a foreigner had she walked amongst Tokyo’s population. Her face was softer; a smooth sculpture of beauty, with thick curls of coal-coloured hair engulfing her head. Pupils that whispered of eons gone by watched the city like a predator of old, her lips held tight in a thin frown as possibilities of the days to come ran through her mind.

xxx “Owari” He spoke her name like a resolution; a finality echoing from his lips; the end.

xxx “Hajimari.” She responded with his name; a beginning; a taste of fresh possibilities, and boundless growth.

xxx “Things are moving.” He stated, his eyes too seeing beyond the crawling traffic below. “Do you think they’re ready?”

xxx “They’ll have to be.” Owari responded, her tone firm.

xxxHajimari nodded, rising his gaze from the streets at his feet to the stars above. His hand rose, fingers splayed above his head as his eyes searched between the digits. “Perhaps a sign then.” He murmured, almost to himself. Though, Owari heard and followed her partner’s gaze to the heavens.

xxx “Many have long since forgotten us.” She reminded him as his fingers began to dance overhead. His hand made a graceful pulling motion, a soft breath left his lips, and then the first star fell across the night’s sky; a streak of pure light momentarily illuminating the heavens. More followed, creating a meteor shower for any who happened to turn their attention to the sky that night.

xxx “Well, perhaps this is for my comfort than.” Hajimari replied, his hands clasped behind his back as he admired his work. Owari let the silence build as she too watched the show above, until a dozen moments had passed.

xxx “They all have demons to face.” Her words rang with a hint of pity, for she knew the dangers that were to come.

xxx “Most are of their own making.” Hakimari responded, “They would have had to face them eventually.”

xxxOwari nodded, her curls shifting as if stirred by a gentle wind, “We can only watch now.”

xxxA look of slight guilt crossed the pale god’s face, his eyes flashing momentarily. His partner turned ever-perceptive eyes on him, her frown deepening as she sensed his intentions, “Hajimari, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, stop interfering with their lives!”

xxxAnd just like that, the aura of power and mystery that surrounded the two gods evaporated. Like an old couple, married for too long and all too aware of each other’s faults, they began trading words; barbs, insults, passive aggressive suggestions. A bird soaring above would be wise to avoid the area directly around the snapping deities, a rat might have taken sheltered in a solid pipe well below the pair too. For the less perceptive mortals, they continued their work without contemplating that above them stood two squabbling gods, or that among their number roamed immortals and ghosts. Even as the two gods disappeared, the only witness to their presence a pouting teenage boy, the world continued to move of its own accord.

xxxIn a shoe-box apartment only a few blocks from the building once occupied by the two gods, a Guardian Angel calling himself Kohaku was preparing to leave on work-related business. A short distance further, within the performance hall of one of Tokyo’s learning institutes, a blonde boy studying music gave his hands a shake as he glared at a piano piece. And further away, across vast oceans and mountain ranges carved and painted by the hands of the divines, a goblin’s hand reached for a door knob. Slim fingers curled around the brass head, her eyes shut, mind searching for the pull of her next destination. She opened the door and slid through, her eyes alighting on the clear windows of her Tokyo apartment to see stars decorating the sky.

▁ ▂ ▃xxxT H ExxxH I L L Sxxxxxx ▁ ▂ ▃xxxH E Xxxx# 5 E 7 D 7 Exxxxxx▁ ▂ ▃xxxT A I L O R E D xxxS U I T

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xxxxxxPools of aquamarine roamed the pages as the mind behind them wandered elsewhere. Cassius Dōriēwes had little interest in The Archaeology of Knowledge and only a transient interest in his newest secretary, a bespectacled young graduate from Osaka who was gentle on the eyes.
xxxxxxShe wandered the subterranean of his private study, her long fingers gliding over the spines of the books that lined its walls. She was "dusting," as impoverished mortals who could not afford servants were known to do.
xxxxxxEmiko, Emiri—or whatever it was the scrawl on her name badge read—was pretty enough. She was tall and languid and lovely in the way most flowers were, regardless of their petals' symmetry or the curve of their stem. She watched him from under a curtain of lashes, her eyes flitting back and forth in a teasing gambol of sexual tension. It was unfortunate that he felt little thrill without the chase.
xxxxxxShe jumped when Cassius slammed his book shut.
xxxxxx"Why do I have a secretary?" he asked.
xxxxxx"Ah, sir?"
xxxxxx"Honestly, why do I? It's hardly as if I run anything in my corporate empire." He gestured broadly at the world around him. "Why would I, when I've hired hands to run it for me?"
xxxxxx"Well, I'm not—" the woman stuttered. "I'm not sure, sir. I guess, maybe—"
xxxxxx"Let me tell you something— Erika," he said, squinting at her badge. He strode to the other side of his mahogany desk. "I don't talk to people hoping to engage a response. I talk at people to help me think."
xxxxxx"I'm sorry, sir-"
xxxxxx"It's alright, dear. You're dismissed." He paused and took her hand, now cold and damp with nerves. A smile unfurled from the corners of his lips, revealing two rows of alabaster teeth that would put most commercials to shame. "You're of course entitled to a bonus and a generous retirement fund."
xxxxxx"I-I've worked here for two weeks."
xxxxxx"A short time for most, and yet a very long time if you have the misfortune of living only two weeks." He laughed. "I'll have a tab opened for you under my account. Please, enjoy yourself at Apex tonight."
xxxxxxWithout waiting for a response, Cassius breezed out of the room, and wound his way to the penthouse. Music hammered in the walls, climbing into a crescendo and spilling in waves of bliss. The club was thriving in the midst of Tokyo, the strobe lights illuminating the huckleberry night in swaths of red and gold. Bodies parted like molasses, reluctant to split in the tide of lust but eager to glimpse the fox spirit that sliced through them unbeknownst to the mortal crowd. His allure was intoxicating, though that might have been the champagne pouring in spades from crystal flasks.
xxxxxxThe event tonight was in celebration of their reopening after Apex acquired not only their competitors the floor below, but the entire building in the metropolitan central of Shinjuku, Tokyo. The masquerade saw the nightclub transformed as masked figures danced and mingled in the sleek ebony and glass interior of the balcony.
xxxxxxCassius had pulled a Venetian mask over his features in the elevator, the intricate black whorls amplifying his air of mystery. He granted an assemblage of his admirers a small smile as he plucked a flute of champagne from a tray that was offered. He brought it to his lips, and tossed them a wink. They moved towards him but he slipped away into the crowd, allowing the numerous masks to obscure his retreat.
xxxxxxHe slipped the smartphone from his pocket and into his palm, his fingers dancing over the screen.

To: Kaede Shimizu

The lighting here is terrible and my disguise is hideous.
Run if you want to capture my bad side. Also I don't p-
ay you to sleep.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxA shadow fell over him and he glanced away from his screen. A ghost stood before him, its face obscured in darkness. His brows furrowed and lowered as his muscles tensed, prepared to defend his territory. A crack shivered across the surface of his phone as his fingers cinched around it.
xxxxxxIt was not until recently that he'd known spirits to possess any degree of opacity that they would be capable to intercepting the light or create shadows for that matter. Yet this was the second time he'd witnessed such an ominous presence. It parted its lips, as if to speak to him.
xxxxxxIt disappeared as the air brightened.
xxxxxxCassius cast his eyes upward just as the first star fell. More chased after it, beads of the universe pelting against the horizon. He heard the rustle of handbags and pockets ushering in the click of phones. The crowd captured the spectacle with their digital gaze, their gasps of awe and appreciation becoming secondary to it.
xxxxxxHe stood still amongst the people, alone in that instant with the the sky's candlelight as they illuminated the planes of his face. His full lips parted as if to taste a thin stream of moonlight, his eyes fluttering shut against the brilliance. He'd lived for two thousand years and several more centuries, but he'd never seen a meteor shower. Perhaps he'd simply never bothered to look up.
xxxxxxWhat a pity.

Ryan 'Rango' Prosker
"Moving forward is tough when all I do is keep running into walls."

Ambience --- Hex #AE0202 --- Leather Jacket

A dark and gloomy night be all accounts, cluttered with the remnants of people moving to and fro, their presence felt even with the noticeable lack of bodies on the sidewalk. A couple of nurses stood by a service entrance to the hospital, the tips of cigarettes lit orange as the bright overhead light basked them in illumination. They spoke in Japanese, or at least Ryan assumed so as his vehicle passed them by, slowing down to pull into a parking lot that was still way too full for the Hospital’s own good. The black limo slowed to a stop, Ryan’s eyes glued to the Japanese characters written above the entrance and deeply dreading not having learned the language before coming to this country. He knew a few words here and there, but it wouldn’t be enough to get him by.

A man walked up to his door, immaculately pressed work attire of a black suit, white gloves and extravagant hat. He reached out and opened the door for the pilot, his grey hair trimmed to perfection as only the temples could be seen. The older man’s smile was beaming, unhindered by the reality that faced Ryan inside the building in front of him. “Master Prosker.” The man stated as Ryan pulled himself from the vehicle. “You’ll find what you’re looking for on the Eighth floor. Head straight once you’re inside, stop at reception and state ‘Watashi wa Konatsu-shi no tame ni koko ni iru’. This will tell them who you are and help you reach your destination.” The Chauffeur pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him.

Ryan took it, opening it to find the exact statement written down just in case. The Chauffeur also pulled out a small book and placed it in Ryan’s hands. “You’re also going to need this, if you’re going to be in this country for any length of time Master Prosker. I wish you the best.” Ryan flipped the black book over, reading the title as he did so.

“English to Japanese dictionary.” Ryan whispered to himself, almost as if he didn’t believe he was standing in Japan. He gave it a good couple of shakes. “Thanks Nick, but I doubt I’ll be here long enough to worry about the language barrier.”

“Extra knowledge is never a bad thing Master Prosker.” Nick stated, his comforting smile being the only thing keeping Ryan from potentially having a meltdown at this point. “Besides, life has a funny way of throwing us for a loop, preparation is half the battle.” Ryan gave a nod, looking down at the book before holding it up and giving a smirk as he turned towards the hospital, sliding it into his inner jacket pocket. Nick closed the door, standing in front of the limo until Ryan had entered the doors.

Inside everything was brightly lit, with orderlies, nurses and doctors walking to and fro. That was probably one of the bigger differences he had noticed about this country in his short time here, how everyone seemed to be busy at all times of the day. He held up the piece of paper with the phrase on it once more, reading it and mouthing the words as he wandered forward. He looked up, trying to see if reception would be easily recognizable but only being assailed by signs that he couldn’t understand and people speaking in a language that might as well have been gibberish for all he could make out. Walk straight Nick said, I shouldn’t have to turn. Ryan thought to himself as he stayed the course. Eventually the crowded entrance lead to an open waiting area, with an aging woman behind a counter and separated from the residents of the room by thick glass sitting at a computer. At least this part was the same across the world.

Ryan walked forward, holding up the paper as he did so. The woman’s eyes slowly peered away from the screen, her loose brown bun of hair bobbing slightly as she did. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and by the way her glare seemed to pierce the increasingly thin piece of glass, he had to assume that to be the case. “Uhhh…” Ryan stated, doing his best to not butcher the words. “Watashi...wa Konatsu shi no...tame? Nigh...Koko Nigh eru?” Ryan grimaced as he practically displayed just how American he was here. The woman stared at him, her one eyebrow raised as she stood from her sitting position.

“Anata wa konatsusandesu ka? Hontōni?” Ryan stared at her, blinking widely for a moment as he had no idea what she said, although her tone was inquisitive. Did it have to be about him knowing Mr. Konatsu? Ryan admitted that maybe he didn’t look the part. He was standing here, late into the evening wearing a bandana around his head, leather jacket and ripped blue jeans that were more comfortable than they were fashionable. His t-shirt underneath was black and blank, one of the few that didn’t have a funny saying on it, and his expression was of the clueless idiot at this point. Did he agree with her? Did he...not agree with her?

“Uhhhh...si? Wait, that’s spanish...was it...Hi?” The woman stared at him for a moment before sighing and grabbing a couple of papers. She walked out of the room, entering a hallway and making a follow motion with her hand.

“Forō suru.” She stated, to which Ryan simply did. He had to assume that Nick wouldn’t steer him wrong. It took them a few minutes to reach the elevators, passing by a few outpatient rooms, along with what appeared to be a cafeteria and a pharmacy. Personally Ryan always had a problem getting food from a place that most likely had cases of malaria in vials just waiting to be mixed with the ranch dressing. The aid got into an elevator and Ryan followed suit, enduring the incredibly awkward silent ride up to the Eighth floor. The doors opened and the woman led him down another couple of corridors before finally placing him in what appeared to be another kind of waiting room. She had him sit in a chair, pointing a finger at him. “Taizai.” She stated, before making for the door.

“Que?” Ryan asked but only getting a door being shut as a response. “Still spanish Ryan.” Ryan whispered to himself, wondering why he was getting the two languages mixed up considering the extent of his spanish was popular words muttered by adult cartoon characters. Regardless, he sat there in his seat, the only person occupying a surprisingly empty room with multiple chairs around him. He got up briefly to check the magazine rack, but found all the literature to be in Japanese Kanji, and wondered to himself as to what else he expected. It seemed like forever had passed when the door to the room finally opened.

In walked a short man, hair slicked back and formed into an immaculate display of the ideal businessman. Grey at the temples with black color lining the rest of his scalp seemed to paint a perfect picture as to what this man was meant to do. Thin glasses sat on the edge of his nose as slanted blue eyes scanned the room for the sole person inside of it. When he saw Ryan, his smile added more wrinkles to his aging face as he approached the man. “Ryan.” The man stated, his voice giving off the slight Japanese accent that Ryan was accustomed to. Instead of a bow or a handshake, Mr. Konatsu opened his arms for a hug, making his black suit stretch to reveal a wrinkled white undershirt. Signs of stress and long hours most likely, as Ryan simply gave a small smile and returned the hug. Even with Ryan’s small stature, he was still taller than Konatsu by a good couple of inches.

“Mr. Konatsu, it’s been awhile.” Ryan stated more as a fact than anything else. Konatsu released the embrace, giving a scoff.

“Awhile? I guess it sounds better than ‘over a decade’. Makes me sound slightly younger.” Konatsu looked Ryan over, placing a hand on his chin. “Have to say child, you’re looking good...despite your every attempt to destroy that impression. What is this?” Konatsu reached up at the bandana on Ryan’s head, earning a swat from him.

“It’s called my individuality, that’s what.” Ryan stated, giving a smile. Mr. Konatsu was still the man he remembered, the father figure he wished he had had. “But hey, you look exactly the same. Old enough to remember when the dinosaurs were around. Tell me the story about the Brontosaurus again!” Ryan stated, faking enthusiasm for a joke nearly as old as their relationship. Mr. Konatsu gave a fake frown.

“You should know better than to joke at my age child, you’ll be here someday and then you’ll be having to deal with them yourself.”

“By the time I’m your age, I plan on being dead for ten years.” Ryan’s wicked smile planted itself on his face, earning a small laugh from the small man.

“Well considering what you do for a living, that might just happen. A military pilot huh? How’s that working out for you?” Ryan gave a shrug.

“Hours are shit, pay is shit, and the rules are shit, but hey, it puts me in the air with more than enough excitement to go around, so I can’t complain. I heard you’ll be retiring here at the end of the year, you excited?” Konatsu nodded, placing his thumbs underneath his armpits and giving himself a false sense of inflated ego.

“Oh most definitely! I think 40 years of running a technological giant is enough for me. Time to step down and let Hideaki take the reigns. I’ve left him more than enough instructional material and mentoring to hopefully propel this company into the next generation.”

“This is the same Hideaki that decided to take on Akumi in a drinking contest? Are you sure he won’t underestimate the opposition like he did her that night?” Ryan stated, remember Konatsu’s son as a slightly arrogant but decent kid a number of years younger than himself.

“I think the memory of him disgracing his family and our living room rug is enough to not make that mistake again.” Ryan and Konatsu shared a small laugh at the memory before a silence fell between them. Ryan wished the topic didn’t have to change, but the atmosphere shifted into one of somber realization as Konatsu removed his glasses. “I think that’s enough of the formalities though.” Konatsu stated, placing his glasses in his breast pocket. “I would like to thank you for taking the time to come out here Ryan. I know it wasn’t an easy decision.”

“Putting it lightly.” Ryan stated, no levity in his voice as his serious expression conveyed his thoughts on the matter. Konatsu nodded as he peered down slightly before returning Ryan’s gaze.

“To put it bluntly, we don’t know if we’ll be able to save his life. The procedure he’s undergoing is highly experimental and nearly completely untested. We’ll be treading new ground here, the results will be...unpredictable at best.” Ryan seemed to bypass that bit, instead choosing to speak as soon as Konatsu finished his sentence.

“I need you to answer a question...one I think I already know the answer to.” Ryan said, locking eyes with Konatsu for a moment as he already knew what the question was.

“They never asked for you. This was me...I didn’t think it was right for him to be on his potential death bed and you weren’t around to see him off if it was.”

“Do they know I’m here?”

“I haven’t informed them, no.” Ryan looked away for a moment, the underlying subtext of the answer being ‘if I had, they would have stopped me from inviting you here.’ Mr. Konatsu continued. “Ryan, this isn’t a time for hatred. However your life has worked out for you, I don’t believe it’s right for people to-”

“Sorry Mr. Konatsu...but let’s go see the dying fucker.” Ryan stated, moving past the man to the door. Konatsu looked ready to say something, but decided against it as he followed Ryan out of the room and lead him towards his parent’s hospital room.

The trip took them down the hallway and through a couple of doors. Before long Konatsu stood before the entrance to where Ryan’s father lay waiting for his surgery. Konatsu blocked his entrance for a moment, looking at him. “I know there are...many things that haven’t been resolved between all of you...but I urge you to use restraint. No one should go on filled with hate in their hearts.”

“You don’t know these people like I do Mr. Konatsu...if you did you would find what you said to be something that is simply unavoidable.” Ryan motioned towards the door as Konatsu resigned to defeat with a slight bow of his head. He opened the door, revealing the hospital room.

It was state of the art. In the middle sat the bed and his sickly father. He was hooked up to multiple machines that Ryan could only start to guess as to their function. Pristine white sheets looking like they had been freshly laundered lay atop his body. The metal banisters on the side were polished to a sheen that was visible in the bright light of the room. A few chairs sat off to the side while a flat screen tv currently switched off hung on the wall in front of the bed. A giant window looked out over Tokyo, with their height providing a decent view from their room. Another figure occupied the area aside from his father. His mother sat on the side of the man’s bed, gripping his hand tightly as she stared at him.

His father had wasted away, Cancer of the stomach and liver forcing his body to slowly shut down as everyone had repeatedly told him there was nothing they could do. A bald head attached to tubes going down his nose was the first thing that drew Ryan’s attention, which only did more to exacerbate the state of the man. Wrinkles of flesh seemed to sag off of him like melted playdough, although Ryan doubted he worried about that at this point. It was ironic that a man who cared so much for appearances would find himself in such a predicament, as Ryan’s last memory of him was of this upstanding proud and dignified businessman filled with power and confidence. Now he was nothing more than a mere mortal, fated for death at the hands of something that he couldn’t simply buy his way out of, not for lack of trying though seeing as they were all here.

His mother wasn’t too much better. Stress seemed to have eaten away at her, as her once luscious raven locks of hair that used to hang over her shoulders had dulled to a lifeless grey. Her green eyes peered over at her husband even as her veiny hand gripped his with all the strength she had left to give. Her dress was still immaculate, if somewhat slightly disheveled, a standard purple fare that covered her up adequately enough while displaying a somewhat dignified allure...if she had been twenty years younger. As Ryan and Konatsu entered the room, she looked up and smiled for half a second before she recognized who had come within a hundred feet of her.

She stood up and stormed over to Ryan, and even though he knew what was coming, he didn’t bother to stop it. A hard slap, one that was enough to leave a print on his face, arrived at his jaw and nearly forced him to take a step sideways. Despite her aging frame, she still had the strength of her younger days. “How...dare...you.” She stated, all of her composure gone as the rage manifested in a red face and barely held back tears. It took her a full ten seconds to realize that Konatsu was in the room as she hurried to rectify her appearance before her long term friend. Konatsu simply waved his hand.

“I won’t be staying, but before you get into anything...I asked him to come. I felt it was necessary...for what may come to pass. I’m sorry Mrs. Prosker, but I did what I thought was right.” Konatsu did a short bow before ducking back out the door he had come from. Lucky Bastard. Ryan thought to himself as silence overtook the room, a habit that was quickly starting to form in this hospital. It took a good number of minutes for either of them to speak, trying to figure out a way to start a conversation with someone you had come to hate. It was not an easy process, but eventually Linda Prosker started it.

“Why are you here.” She asked, returning to her seat and gripping his father’s hand. Ryan looked between her and his dad, partially wondering the same question himself.

“Was kinda hoping I would have an answer when I got here.” Ryan stated softly, looking at the two of them. “Still...trying to figure that part out.”

“So you don’t know why you’re here.” She stated, her voice dripping enough venom to kill the rest of the elephants in the world. “At what point did you think it would be appropriate to show your face to us again?”

“Last time I checked, there wasn’t any law or restraining order against me forbidding me from seeing either one of you.” Ryan countered, to which Linda scoffed.

“We didn’t think we would need one, seeing as you’re the one who left and never came back.”

“For damn good reason.”

“The pressure got to you, you cracked and ran. It’s something I’m assuming you do on a regular basis now?” Linda stated, her eyes slicing through Ryan’s skull like arrows.

“I’m a pilot with the U.S. Airforce.” Ryan stated, knowing that should be enough to indicate his stance on her statement.

“So you couldn’t even be a Marine. You picked a profession that gives you the illusion of being brave while you simply stay high in the air, safe from the fight while the real heroes are down there fighting for their country.”

“How does tha-...What? Just because I don’t have a gun in my hand and my boots on the ground, that makes me a coward?”

“In all honesty, I couldn’t give a flying fuck what you do Ryan.” Ryan couldn’t hold the shock back from his face. In all the years he had known his mother, he had never once heard her swear even when it was just them. “You could tell me that you single handedly saved several children from a car bomb, or airlifted out dozens of wounded civilians while being shot at...I just don’t care.” She grasped her husband’s hand with both of hers. “End of the day, you left us and whatever you did with your life after that point doesn’t matter to me or your father. You’re dead to us.”

“Mother of the year award goes too…” Ryan stated, falling back on his sarcasm to avoid screaming at her with every bit of pent up rage and frustration he had accumulated over the years. He still let out an aggravated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the wall with the tv placed on it. “It’s good to know where I stand with you though, did you manage to dedicate a funeral to me then? Seeing as I might as well have been six feet under?”

“Humor is a thin veil for an attempt at moral superiority. You don’t hold any.”

“I don’t have the moral superiority?!” Ryan yelled in surprise at her. “You made my life a living fucking hell, but because I ran away and did something I wanted instead of acting the puppet, I lost the moral superiority? Are you listening to yourself? Did you ever once listen to yourself?”

“Stop acting like a child, there’s no need for yelling.” Linda stated, her eyes returning to her husband. Ryan threw his hands up.

“Oh right, cause someone might come in here and discover the fucking bitch pretending to be a caring mother is...surprise, a fucking bitch.” Linda didn’t flinch at this accusation, breathing calmly as if she had everything in control...which ultimately she did.

“We did nothing but try to raise you to the best of our abilities. We laid everything out for you and had planned out the best route to assure your rise to power, wealth and prosperity. You threw away all of our efforts when you ran to join the military. You threw us away, we felt no regret in doing the same to you.”

“You honestly believe you’re the wounded party here?” Ryan asked, his incredulousness seeping through into his speech.

“Yes, after all, I’m not the one doing the name calling, a juvenile attempt to villainize me.” Ryan was getting flustered. Normally he could talk his way out of anything and everything, but his mother seemed to have that perfect tone, that perfect word, the perfect delivery that sent him on a downward spiral towards his most negative emotions that made him want to literally strangle her right there in the hospital. She looked over at him, and he could tell that she was very proud of herself despite her nonchalant demeanor.

She believed she had won.

“There’s nothing for you here. Mr. Konatsu was wrong in inviting you to his place and you will find that we will not be inviting or welcoming in the slightest. If you came because of the will, you were written out of it years ago. If you came looking for an apology, we have none to give because we weren’t wrong. If you came to see your father die, than not only are you petty, but also sociopathic. That would explain so many things that have been wrong with you ever since I made the mistake of bringing you into this world.” Ryan stared at her, barely keeping his jaw shut and his fists from beating a new abstract shape into her skull.

“The door is right behind you, I suggest you use it.” Linda stated, returning her gaze to her husband for the last time. The conversation was done, even if Ryan didn’t think it was. Anything he said from this point on would either be ignored or stored for ammunition at a later date. Without a word, Ryan walked to the door and exited the room. Mr. Konatsu sat a small distance away, talking on his cell phone in a seemingly hushed tone. When he noticed Ryan exit the room, he ended the call and made his way over and stopped just short of the pilot.

Without a word, he gauged how well it went and instead handed him a piece of paper. “There’s a bar a couple blocks away called Tippingupointo...The Tipping Point. It stays open all night, so drop my name and they’ll take care of you.”

“You’re not coming with?” Ryan asked, being careful to not crumple the piece of paper. Konatsu gave a shake of his head.

“This isn’t a battle I can help you win Ryan. Sometimes, it takes a pure force of will to see one through to the other side.” Konatsu took his glasses out of his breast pocket and replaced them on his face. “Besides, I got a call from the Board and it seems I’m needed back at the office to discuss some sensitive matters.” Ryan gave a dismissive wave.

“I get it, the world doesn’t stop turning just because of some emotional nukes going off.” Konatsu gave a comforting smile, placing a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“I’ll have Nick stop by the bar after I’m done to make sure you get back to your hotel room safely. Take care of yourself Ryan.” Konatsu removed his hand and gave a small bow and left, leaving Ryan staring at the piece of paper with directions to the bar on it as well as a few translated sayings.

Ryan gave a shrug, at the very least maybe he could get some free booze out of this deal. He placed the paper into his pocket and started stumbling his way out of the confusing hospital.

There was, perhaps, a time when Kaede didn't spend her evenings eating takeout (or, if she was lucky that night, a home cooked meal) on the couch, camera in her hands as Basil, attention riveted on the TV screen, made the most ridiculous expressions. If there was, she didn't remember it well, and she wouldn't trade this for that for the world anyway. Since Basil signed the lease and warmed up to her voyeuristic—in a purely innocent way—tendencies, the views on her secondary photography blog had skyrocketed, commenters clamoring for the next picture of the endearingly odd looking man with sharp, elfin features. And Basil was always at his best (worst?) when watching Chopped. Kaede wouldn't call the food network her viewing of choice, but the high stakes cooking show Basil watched most was interesting enough, she supposed, so she didn't mind it terribly. And there were, of course, the other benefits.

A flash of light shone brightly and briefly, illuminating the expanse of their small living room for just an instant. Kaede straightened her back, pulled the camera away from her face to study the snapshot in time she'd just captured, a smile already pulling at the corners of her lips. Perfect. The mini Basil on the screen looked positively disgusting, his features distorted in a grimace of what looked like physical pain, the result of a chef pulling out the ice cream machine far too late in the game. A silent moment of appreciation was violently interrupted by the too-loud vibration of her cellphone. Kaede could not help the scowl that appeared when she saw the name of the sender, despite holding no particular ill will towards him. Cass was always deceivingly charming, but he he had his moments of shocking sadism, and the veil of allure that he wore only made him all the more terrifying. She never knew when his messages would be more ricin laced letter than carefully packaged gift.

"Shit," she hissed, eyes going wide. "Shit, shit, shit," she continued, scrambling to get off the couch and on the way to her room. She wasn't sure if Basil had noticed her strange departure, what with his razor sharp focus on the timer steadily counting down to last few seconds of the dessert round, but just in case he had, Kaede, intently focused on finding some semblance of a presentable dress out of her closet, yelled out an explanation. "My boss called me out really suddenly, so I'm heading down to Apex for the night," she said, as she pulled out a sleek black dress, simple and elegant, that she always kept on hand in case of situations like this. Then, true to their agreement, she said the exact same thing in English, working the words out in her delicate accent, a bizarre blend of both British and Eastern, twisting the syllables into something that often made her classmates in London ask her to say odd and inane phrases just to hear the tongue twisters said in her foreign tongue.

In ten minutes flat, Kaede finished what she called the club look—hastily done dark eyemakeup with a shock of red lipstick to draw away attention from any mistakes. She was not in the habit of prettying herself up often, but since that one time Cass had scoffed at her, asked to look "at the very least, presentable, if you're going to be under my employ," she'd bought and used several more shades of lip tint. She thought of Cass every time she used them, which was going to be terrible for her skin eventually, since she was frowning so frequently.

Halfway to the door, she remembered it was masquerade night at the club, ran back to her desk where she kept a gold leafed paper maiche mask Basil had helped her make (bless his soul, he'd somehow managed to turn soggy newspapers into a chic fashion accessory), and shoved it into her purse. In moments, she back in the living room, tugging on low heels that wouldn't be tremendously difficult to run in. "Hey, text me if you want to join, I'll tell the bouncers to let you in," she said to Basil, followed by the English translation. With that, she was out the door, rushing to the bus stop once the elevator let her off at the ground floor.

Luckily, Apex happened to be in relatively near proximity, only a three minute bus ride away, with a bus that came by around every five minutes. God, she thought, must have been on her side that night, because she didn't wait any longer than half a minute for the bus to come around. In that moment she decided tonight was finally going to be the night. She toyed with the lens cap on her camera as she briefly recalled the first time she'd seen Cass, infuriatingly beautiful under the colored strobe lights of the throbbing club. With the crowd pulsing around her, she'd gotten on one knee and waited. Waited until the perfect moment. Then she got the perfect shot. Except that it wasn't. What was supposed to come out as a snapshot of one of the rare times he'd look ugly, for just an instant, had turned out only as a testament to his unnatural beauty. She must have taken a hundred pictures of him that night. Not one came out the way she wanted. She'd have been slightly more mortified when he approached her to ask about the pictures if she hadn't been so miffed about her continual failure, but Cass hadn't named her a stalker and asked for her removal from the premises at all. Instead, there was a job offer. One that she'd be a fool to reject. Even without the ridiculously good pay, her work allowed for frequent proximity to the man of the hour himself, and she'd been chasing that perfect picture for months now. She persisted. He always prevailed. The closest she'd ever come was a picture of him biting into an unnecessarily large burger. His features looked distorted, sure, but they only distorted into an alternate version of perfection.

Switching to the English keyboard (because there really was no suitable Japanese equivalent for the types of messages she often sent to Cass) on her phone, Kaede shot off a very professional message to her employer.

TO: ☠ ☠ ☠
EAT DIRT, CASS

Followed by,

I'M ON MY WAY

Kaede was still fumbling in her bag for her mask after the bus dropped her off when the stars began to fall. She didn't look up until the exciting murmuring of the collective voice of the crowd around her grew too loud to ignore, and she did not regret it when she did. Awe kept her body still as streaks of light dotted the inky sky, the last chill of early spring passing by in a swift breeze, and Kaede was not sure the shiver that went down her spine was because of that or because of the image of divinity before her. She did not bother lifting the camera to her face—there was no capturing moments like this wholly as they were.

The thought of the quickly fleeting seconds jolted her back to reality, spurring her back into action. She waved at the bouncers as she passed through the front door of one of the hottest clubs in Tokyo like a wraith, sliding through the throngs of wild limbs with the fluidity of water, or perhaps of the champagne the hosts seemed to be freely pouring. She'd grown accustomed to the space in her weeks of working for the owner, knew how to maneuver to get to where she needed to go in the quickest way possible. It did not take long for her to arrive at where she knew Cass would be, gaze still cast skyward, mouth parted slightly in the lonely sort of absence of mind she was never able to catch but always knew existed. He did not look terrible. He looked bone achingly beautiful, and before the flash even went off, Kaede knew the portrait she'd captured—beauty set against beauty, a captivating figure painted atop the backdrop of a collapsing sky—belonged in a museum, or somewhere the whole world could stop by and weep for him.

She let the camera drop, hanging loose around her neck. "Hey," she said, with a casual grin, denoting nothing of her previous thoughts. "You lied to me." Indeed he had. The lighting looked great on him, club strobes and moonlight working in unison to highlight the elegant curves of his bone structure. It really pissed Kaede off.

Remembering, suddenly, her Chopped junkie friend she'd left behind, Kaede reached a hand towards Cass. "Lend me your phone?" she asked, as she was already slipping it from his pocket. On his notes, she wrote, "LET BASIL IN," then held the cell up to her face as she used her own to take a quick picture of her, it, and Cass. With the tap of a finger, the photo was on route to Basil, supposing he decided to come. She didn't thank Cass as she slapped the phone back into his open palm.

"So you look disgustingly amazing as always," Kaede huffed, leaning against the bannister. "I was in the middle of doing something, you lying trickster." This wasn't, of course, the first time he'd lied to her about his appearance. Granted, it was half her fault for falling for it so many times, but the chance was always too tempting for her to pass up. She was almost inclined to think he just wanted company, but then, he was so often surrounded by so many eager to please patrons, so she couldn't see how she'd be any more welcome than them. Cass was an odd bird, but she didn't not enjoy his company, and that counted for something.

Seung
GRIM REAPER | 406 | #D08462

There was something in the air unspoken that drowned Seung in it’s sadness. He could feel it pushing at him like waves created from an unforgiving ocean - letting him resurface for a single breath before pulling him down once again. It was as if the world he knew was made water, and the only way to save himself was to sink.

He watched helplessly as the woman in white fiddled with her cup, her brown eyes flicking between him and the tea before resolutely closing them shut. Seung itched to place his hand on top of hers, to feel the warmth of her touch against his, and perhaps to give her some sort of comfort.

“What . . . will happen once I’m gone?” she said, her gaze finally meeting his in an act of, what he supposed, defiance. Underneath the table he curled his hand into a fist and squeezed tightly.

“The world will go on,” the tone in his voice did not match the tune of his thoughts, and although intentionally misinterpreting her question he longed to tell her the truth. If only he could. The woman slammed her hands on the table, almost spilling the tea, and stood up. Her eyes were red and filled to the brim with fresh tears and an anger directed toward him and the world.

She said nothing, but her breathing was labored and her head was bowed. Her mouth opened as if to yell or scream or shout, but all that came out was a choked sob that rendered her whole frame frail. Seung had the curious thought that if he were to touch her, as he deeply wanted to, then perhaps she would disintegrate and turn into ash before his eyes.

Seconds passed by in silence and when her frame stopped shaking she sat down with a heavy plop. The life had been drained out of her and Seung could only observe. He was about to say something, anything really to permeate the stifling stillness, but a quick motion from her left him in awe. She grabbed the cup in front of her and without hesitation lifted the drink to her lips greedily. There was something mesmerizing about the scene, and despite having watched plenty of mortals accept the tea he couldn’t help but think perhaps something was different.

When the woman finished she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let the cup fall to the ground gracelessly. Seung said nothing and simply stood up to walk her to the door where they had come from. She remained silent. They always did.

He shut the door softly and leaned his back against it with a deep sigh. All the air seemed to rush back into his lungs and his head was finally above water. He willed himself to stay afloat even for a few minutes, knowing full well it was a useless gesture. For he knew that once he returned home the sound of her sobs would follow, but he could pretend for now that it didn't bother him.

With slow methodical movements he walked back to the table and picked up the cup from the floor before bringing it to the sink to wash. He let the cool water from the faucet run over his hands like a blanket and when he was finished simply set it aside to dry. It was a part of his routine that he could preform with his eyes closed. He wouldn’t of course, but he’d think about it.

-

The moment Seung walked through the door to the outside world he shivered. It wasn’t as though the weather was anything unusual, but he’s always had an aversion toward the cold that never really faded with time. Regardless though, he continued to walk the city streets, wearing only a dark pinstripe suit and his only pair of black oxford shoes. It was one of his nicer outfits, as well as one of the most expensive. It had taken him a few months to save up enough money to buy it, and when he did Seung was reluctant to wear it as to not damage the cloth. Alucio had shown no outward reaction, but Seung could have sworn he heard the man whisper, ”. . . Yeah. Ok. This is life now.” Looking back on it, Seung couldn’t help but agree.

It was that train of thought though that reminded Seung that he should text his roommate. He had no real reason to, really. It wasn't as if they had agreed to meet one another consistently; God only knows how much they bumped into each other in their tiny apartment. But Seung didn’t feel like returning home where he knew it would be quiet, and he would be alone with his thoughts.

Quickly he pulled out his phone and began to text the man with an idea he knew the other couldn’t refuse.

To : M’lady Pard’ner
Come to the tipping point, first drink is on me.

Seung pocked his device into his pants, satisfied with his invitation. It wasn’t often he was generous enough to pay for someone’s drink, and so considered his offer to be nothing less than a sealed deal. He only had to wait for Alucio’s text for confirmation.

Rounding the corner a block away from the bar it was then that Seung noticed the sky had somehow turned lighter. He paid it no mind, and focused on getting to his destination, but when he bumped into a man who stopped to look at the sky Seung grew curious. Above, the stars shot across the sky too fast for him truly appreciate them, and so with a determined set to stance he kept walking.

He did however begin to pay attention to the people surrounding him, and for him that was a better sight than any star could manage. The people gathered on the street with their phones out ready to capture what they probably thought was an unforgettable moment. Seung knew better though, years of living made him apathetic to scenic beauty.

Slowing his pace even more he took in the sight of a few women gathered in a small ice cream shop, amazement in their eyes and their hearts bared for all to see. He smiled, and tore his gaze away from a scene he knew he was not supposed to witness.

-
He arrived at The Tipping Point a few minutes later and let his body acclimate to the the warm temperature of the room before sitting down. The bartender quickly made his way over and Seung ordered the cheapest sake to pass the time before Alucio would show up. When it arrived he took a sip and grimaced. Drinking was a lonely art.

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"What the fuck?! You're never going to get that cooked in time! Come on, dude! You're definitely getting chopped this round, and you were going to win! You forgot a basket ingredient last round and still didn't get chopped. This is what happens every time, Kaede, they-" Flash. "-forget a basket ingredient and it all goes down from there."

The usual pastime for Basil Gardner and his roommate, Kaede Shimizu, is watching Chopped while the latter takes photographs that are, quite frankly, the worst he's ever seen himself. Of course, that doesn't stop him from being constantly featured on Kaede's blog, and sending the pictures to his mom on Facebook. They spent most of today in this same position, and he's sure that Kaede has plenty of material to abate her fans who constantly ask for his painful candids. Then suddenly, his roommate shot up from her seat, blazing through the house and coming back with hastily spoken Japanese, followed by a slower version in English in her foreign accent that he learned to understand and adore for its beauty. He tried to respond in proper Japanese, but she was out the door before he could form any words; it didn't help that his eyes never left the screen in front of him, where the chef he'd just been yelling at had just finished his plate.

Turns out, the other chef won, as Basil correctly predicted. As he celebrated, his phone vibrated. It was a photo of Kaede and her extremely attractive boss who he'd seen on one or two occasions. The photo also had a sign, "let Basil in". Although a new episode of Worst Cooks in America was about to show, he usually didn't pass up on going to the club, especially with Kaede. Working at the diner and living together has really brought the two together, at least in Basil's mind. Other than fellow candle-obsessed American Paola Millán, Kaede is one of the few close friends he has in Tokyo. So, with a final reluctant glance toward the screen, he turns off the TV and sends off a reply.

T O : K A E
私は途中です

Basil tried to write "i am on my way" in Japanese but there is a very good chance that it says something else entirely. Now, for the clothes. He would usually sit on the couch in his boxers but when Kaede brings her camera out he tries to be decent. For the club, he changes into an outfit that could be mistaken for many outfits that circled the runway this season. Basil makes sure to save the photo that Kaede sent to him to show the bouncer, considering a club her boss would show his face at would be more upscale than Basil would be allowed in to. "Alright, it's now or never, gorgeous." Basil sighs to his reflection in the mirror. Going out was a rare occasion for both of the roommates; between their schedules at the diner and long hours on the couch, neither saw the need to put on uncomfortable clothes and drink too much for any more time than necessary.

It didn't take long for Basil to arrive, but the confrontation with the bouncer was quite a time taker. He believed more in the photoshop abilities of a stranger than his acquaintanceship of Cassius and Kaede. Once he showed his I.D., proving that yes, he is Basil Gardner and that is his actual name, he made inside and grabbed a drink from the bar. A small, pink-colored drink graced his fingers before his sights set on his roommate, looking absolutely dazzling in her club wear. He made sure her eyes were set on his before he winked at her, but kept far enough away until he was allowed near the club owner.

The apartment Kohaku called home was small; a claustrophobic collection of tiny rooms which seemed to grow smaller every time he entered. Though tidy, maintained with obsessive care by both its occupants, none could bypass the fact that it barely fit one resident, let alone two. Haku’s bedroom, he had to admit, was pleasant, and gave off a vibe of being more spacious than it was. A combination of good lighting, both from the electrical bulbs and the room's one window, a clean environment, and minimalist furniture no doubt helped give the illusion of space. Small pot plants decorated his desk and bedside table, and throughout the apartment he shared with his fellow guardian, other small greenery could be found. Haku liked the delicate blooms the best, the ones which needed a caring hand and soft whisper to yield an inch of growth. It took a special kind of patience to cultivate those plants, patience which Haku was thankfully gifted with.

Time management was also a skill learned over centuries of working as a guardian angel, and as Haku glanced at his wrist watch – an old analogue face with a solid crack across the glass – he realised that he was going to be late. This was through no fault of his own, he would have pointed out to anyone had he not been alone. Rather, the fault lay with his new charge, who apparently was early.

“Naturally.” Haku breathed, as if he had always expected the slight inconvenience caused by the change of time. A cynic at heart, the angel was rarely surprised when things didn’t go his way. It was almost as if he anticipated disappointment, accepting it with a forlorn sigh as his due. Now was no different, and with barely a complaint uttered he collected himself and set off.

The guardian did not, as one might expect, head down towards the street. Instead, Kohaku took the stairs to the roof. Long strides carried him up several flights of the concreted stairs, ignoring the sound of yelling which echoed from one floor, and the blaring of televisions on various others. Cold, electric light illuminated his path, before, with a sigh of relief, he stepped out under the moonlight. A cool breeze swept across the angel’s face, momentarily caressing away the creases of worry that lined his forever young face. Dark, melancholic eyes turned heavenward, towards a cloudless sky that seemed to hang in the moment, like a breath waiting to be released. Then, the exhale. A spark streaking across the engulfing black; pinpricks of light making their descent to earth in breath-taking bursts of light.

Kohaku let himself indulge for a fraction of a second, his gaze aching for some forgotten feeling. Then, tearing his eyes away and casting them to his feet, the angel let out a sigh. He could only assume that there would be many eyes on the sky tonight, and despite his glamour rendering him invisible when he flew, Kohaku knew that a few of Tokyo’s millions might see him pass – the immortals and touched mortals. All he could do was mentally apologise for anyone who was distracted for a single moment from the falling stars by his flittering frame, before he stepped off the side of the building and took to the air.

Translucent, shimmering wings burst from the angel’s back, keeping his body aloft and pulling him higher into the sky so that Haku could skim over the tops of Tokyo’s steel horizon. He was faster than any manmade machine, making the journey in a collection of seconds. His toes scuffed the top of the hospital roof, heels settling down a moment later. His wings curled away, once again invisible. No stranger to the hospital roof, Haku turned his feet towards the stairwell entrance.

Unlike the reapers who lived in the apartment below his, Kohaku regretfully did not own a suave black hat as part of his uniform, instead he wrapped the image of another around his frame. He opened the door to the stairs as a grim young man and stepped through as an older man, face wrinkled by time and forgotten worries, hands gnarled and broken. His plain clothes whitened and lengthened into a doctor’s coat, while a nametag on his chest informed any who read it that he was a senior doctor in the neonatal ward.

At this time of night visitors were rare and the corridors were quieter than the day, yet still the halls buzzed with activity. Patients and staff murmured between each other, machines whirred and beeped, and the hums of phones ringing, trolleys being wheeled, and more echoed throughout. Haku’s footsteps barely made a noise as he navigated through the maze of hallways. He followed the unexplainable connection that pulled him towards his charge, like a thin cord that linked him with the mortals he was to watch that vibrated with their emotions. He could feel her now, bewildered, and curious.

His pace quickened, and soon he was pushing through the doors to where the new born mortals were wrapped snuggly in blankets. There were half a dozen babies within the room, none no more than a day old. Though Kohaku had never seen his new charge before, he knew without needing to read the name tag that Aoi was in the cot at the end. His hands gently picked up the small human, as careful as if the new born was his own. A soft smile appeared on the angel’s glamoured face, a rarity indeed had anyone other than a baby been around to witness it.

“Somebody was eager to meet the world.” Haku whispered, his gaze kind as the baby girl’s own large eyes met his. “You’re early.”

The baby didn’t respond, but Haku could sense its sentiment; the pure, uninhibited emotions of an infant. He had always held a special place in his heart for children. Why, he was never quite sure. Haku only knew that here, holding the precious bundle in his arms, he felt more complete than he had in years. Yet, even as he soothed Aoi back to sleep, Kohaku could feel the pull of his other charges. He was needed elsewhere.

“I will see you again, Aoi.” He whispered to his charge, placing her softly back into her crib. He hesitated for only a moment, watching the small puff of her cheeks as she breathed, “I wonder what you will become, and where you will find greatness. What joys and hardships will you face?”

Though guardian angels had a hand in directing fate, even they were naïve to the destinies their charges held. Their job was to keep them safe, to nudge them in the direction that would lead them to greatness. A hard job when that greatness appeared elusive. Once, before the world had become that much more accessible, a guardian could follow their charge from infanthood to adulthood. Now, however, over half of his charges moved across the world, to become the responsibility of some other amnesiac immortal. In return, he was given the cases of those guardian’s charges who found their way to Tokyo.

Another of Haku’s newest charges was within the hospital, though this was a grown man rather than a new born soul. Like the first, Kohaku followed the intuitive connection towards the American, reading what he could of the man’s emotions as he went. As he passed under the artificial lights of the hospital bulbs, Haku altered his glamour slightly. The face remained the same, yet each step saw years fall away. Hair slowly thickened and darkened, wrinkles disappeared, and his figure straightened, until he appeared to be a man in his early thirties. The lab coat was gone too, replaced in an empty corridor with the plain clothes of an office worker.

New charges always took a small amount of time to plan for. Though Kohaku was connected to the man’s emotions, there was an unpredictability about handling a charge Haku wasn’t used to that offered some difficulty. It was for this reason that the angel stopped mid-step and frowned, shook his head slightly, and decided to try a different tact. It would take a few interactions to fully learn what might help Ryan Prosker, and he thought he’d keep it short and simple for the first.

Five minutes later a small figure sporting pigtails, a pair of thick glasses, and a girl scouts uniform, turned the corner. Braces lined her teeth, and various badges pinned across her chest displayed her status as a senior girl guide. Haku’s glamour could have been no older than ten, yet the tiny Japanese girl walked with the determination of a centuries old man. It was only when she was within sight of her target, that the girl scout slowed. Haku had come prepared, and reaching into his (her) pocket, he pulled out a small packet of girl guide biscuits. The chocolate flavour.

The glamour’s shoes made a light tapping sound as she danced across the hospital floors, reaching Ryan Prosker quickly. Japanese spilled from his mouth, the tone that of a prepubescent girl, before Haku thought better of it and translated his original statement into heavily accented English.

“Sir, would you like some cookies?” The girl guide smiled brightly at the man, her gaze unwavering as she pushed the packet towards him. “Life is full of constant disappointment and heart-aching.” Haku added, his feminine voice momentarily sombre, the English awkward on his tongue, “But whenever I begin to question the pointless cycle of life, I find biting in a cookie is helpful in the calming of my mind. A momentary pause, before an additional attempt at help, “The exit is down the left path.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the smoothest translation from the Japanese, but Kohaku had never claimed to be a linguist. With a quick bow, the girl guide pushed the packet forward and let go, before quickly turning on her toes and skipping off. Haku could only hope the cookies cheered up his charge, yet he had no doubt that more interaction would be needed in the near future.

Once out of sight around the corner, Haku ducked through a side door and found himself stepping once more into the brisk night’s air. Sirens screamed close by, car horns echoed throughout the night,, and above it all the last few stars began their descent from heaven. Kohaku jumped into the sky, the material of his girl guide’s skirt flapping in the breeze created by his wings. Invisible to all below, he once again let his wings transport him, though this time he remained between the buildings, weaving through them as he followed the map in his mind. His feet touched down a moment later, glittery slip-ons meeting the dirty pavement of a back alley.

The door to the bar jangled as the ten-year-old girl walked in, surprise appearing on her face as she spotted the dark suit and familiar face of her neighbour. The girl guide slid into the seat opposite Seung, offering a glum nod of acknowledgment directed towards the reaper as she settled in. Only when Haku was certain that no eyes were on him did he shed the small girl glamour, letting his natural form take precedent.

“I didn’t know you frequented ‘The tipping point’.” Haku said, his gaze taking in Seung’s sharp suit with a hint of envy. He would love to own such a flattering and expensive piece of clothing, yet even if Haku had the money to afford it – which he didn’t – he was sure it would only bring out the bags under his eyes or accentuate his already prominent ears. “My charge might visit here tonight. Please don’t take his soul. I’ve only just received his case and it would look terrible on my record if he died the first night in my care.”

The bartender came over, a selection of drinks in his hand. Haku shook his head slowly and asked for water instead. The bartender frowned slightly before stepping away, and Haku slumped further into his seat in dejection. He didn’t have enough money to purchase luxury items like sake, not when he’d just given away a packet of girl guide biscuits for free. But, he supposed that was part of his dues. A punishment for the sin he committed in his past life. Such was the after-life.

The rapid strains of acoustic music reverberated around the empty theatre, bouncing off specially designed soundboards so that the melody could be heard anywhere within the hall. On the stage, fingers flying across the black and white keys of the university’s grand piano, sat a young man. Blonde locks curled around his ears and stuck up at odd angles, bordering on the wrong side of messy. His clothes were casual, jeans and a jumper pulled tight over a lean frame. Dark hazel eyes glared at the book, his gaze rapidly following the string of notes as his fingers converted them to sound.

An incorrect note broke Marlon Page’s rhythm, the irregularity causing the young man to huff in frustration and push his fingers down hard against the piano’s smooth keys. The sound was jarring after the swift, musical notes previously played, and seemed to hang thickly in the air even after his hands had left the keyboard. Those fingers pushed thoughtlessly through his hair, half combing it straight, half causing further mayhem as he disrupted curls and pushed other sections into the air. Marlon let his hands fall onto his lap, stretching his fingers out as he closed his eyes to give them a break too.

“Ten more minutes.” He mutter softly to himself in English, his native tongue and what he spoke when alone. Rolling his shoulders and shaking his hands, Marlon replaced them on the correct keys. His feet found the pedals, his eyes traced over the written notes to find an appropriate place to start. With a breath, he jumped back into the music, moving from allegro to adagio with a finesse and ease that spoke of years of practice. Some parts he stumbled over, but rather than stop and repeat them, Marlon merely played on. Such mistakes were rare, and likely a result of how tired he was.

The piece came to an end and Marlon’s fingers stilled, the last note echoing throughout the hall. With a sigh he let his hands slide off the piano, hunching forward as his elbows came to lay on his knees. With a performance looming, he had a week to perfect the piece. A week in which he still had classes, young students to teach the basics of the piano, and other homework to deal with. With no piano in the small apartment he shared with his friend, Wyatt, Marlon was forced to spend long hours at university. Normally, it wasn’t such an issue, but this piece was being particularly difficult and Marlon was a perfectionist. Neither he, nor the university orchestra director, would be happy with anything less than perfection.

“Should I stay longer?” Marlon asked himself aloud, tempted beyond words to call it a night. Perhaps he should text Wyatt and see if he wanted to grab a drink. Maybe he could drag the Italian to a gay bar where Marlon could relax and scout for some nice abs. With a groan the British boy turned and stretched out across the piano stool, his legs hanging over the end. He stared up at the roof, knowing without being told that if he left now, the portions of the piece he hadn’t perfected would haunt him for the rest of the night.

“Fucking fine.” Marlon groaned, pushing himself back into an upright position. His fingers once again found the piano, but his gaze was distracted, trained on the small slither of night sky visible through a high window. The scrape of the piano stool being pushed back resounded around the hall, followed shortly after by the rhythmic thump of shoes striding across the stage. The door to a small balcony opened at his push, allowing the foreign student to step out into the cool night’s air.

Marlon’s head turned heavenward, his eyes reflecting small beams of shooting stars as the meteor shower decorated the sky. It was breath-taking, even to a teenage boy who regularly used the internet to explore the world’s many beauties. His hand slipped into his jean pocket where, as usual, the boy kept his cellphone. The device was practically attached to Marlon, who never left his apartment without the modern piece of technology. His thumb traced over his passcode, flicked the phone into camera mode, and then lifted it skyward.

The photos didn’t do the scene justice. Nevertheless, he found himself navigating through his phone’s applications and opening Instagram. He would share the image with his friends and family back home, but even as he posted the filtered shot, Marlon found himself wishing that he had someone here with him to experience the beauty of the meteor shower. As he tapped out of Instagram, Marlon’s eyes caught on another application he had downloaded months ago, despite its seemingly useless nature. A birthday candle application that let one emulate blowing out a candle

With a small, self-deprecating smile – for Marlon knew how ridiculous he was being – he opened the application and brought the screen up to his face. A flickering flame appeared on an elaborate, thin candle, the image amazingly life-like on his smartphone. Marlon bit his lip, and turned his eyes back up to the waterfall of dazzling stars as his mind conjured an unorganised jumble of aspirations.

“I wish…” He thought, the words trailing off as he collected his feelings. Though Marlon assured himself that he wasn’t taking this seriously at all, he found his mind forming heartfelt sentiments; wishes that he deeply wanted to be true even as he attempted to discredit them as jokes and exaggerations. “I wish I had someone special to share this with. A friend, partner, sibling… anyone. And I wish I could put this into music, I wish I could play how this makes me feel. The beauty of it, the loneliness.”

Marlon stopped, his cheeks flushing slightly at the blunt honesty of his desires. With a quick breath, he blew across the screen of his phone, watching as the flame flickered and went out. The boy held his breath for a moment longer, as if waiting for something, anything to happen, as if he expected his wish to be granted then and there. After a moment, he laughed softly at himself. He was being ridiculous. What had come over him? Marlon had never been an idealist, never someone who’s head was permanently stuck in the clouds. Even as a child the blonde had made wishes for toys and the like knowing fully well that it was his parents' salary that would dictate whether they came true or not, not some invisible hand of fate listening in to his juvenile desires. Marlon put his momentary madness down to spending too long at the piano and the sudden idealism that had struck him at the sight of the falling stars.

With another soft laugh, Marlon shook his head and pushed his phone back into his pocket. He would go back inside and practice for another half hour before texting Wyatt and asking if he wanted to hang out. With a satisfied nod and another brush of his hand through blonde curls, Marlon pushed out thoughts of ridiculous wishes and turned to head back inside, glad that no one was around to witness his lapse of judgement.

It was strange to look up at the sky and think that his mother was staring up at the same one. Wyatt chewed uncertainly on his bottom lip, his eyes full of the clouds that shrouded the silver disc of the moon. The air around him was reflective of Spring. It was slightly chilled with the Sun having retreated so far below the surface of the earth, but it was charged with something that felt reflective of life. Like the world was coming back to life. Of course, in Tokyo, it never felt like the world ever died. Wyatt's peripherals were full of the halos of neon signs and video advertisement screens that boasted bright, eye-catching words of a language he had grown to understand at least a little.

Wyatt had been in Tokyo for about five months and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't come across days where he didn't regret it. Sometimes he would pack everything in his suitcase and write his flatmate, Marlon, a note to let him know he was going back home. It wasn't until he read the note over again that he would tear it up into the tiniest pieces and stuff it in the trashcan where it belonged.

It was a funny situation he was in.

The boldest, craziest thing he had ever done was up and move to Tokyo without even a word to his parents.

And now he wasn't even brave enough to move back.

This came as no surprise, he wasn't even brave enough to call his family to let them know he wasn't dead, that he was just taking a year off.

That would end up being a lie, though, wouldn't it?

These past five months were the most terrifying, liberating months of his young life and he liked making decisions for himself, even if most of them had to be pre-approved by Marlon. If he went back, he would never get to taste that freedom again.
Wyatt turned on his heel and retreated back into the small, cramped store he worked at. The man hung his forest green apron up on the allotted wooden peg hanging from the wall with a sense of finality. He had finished early for the night.

The shop he worked in was a mix between a superficially superstitious hole-in-the-wall and a tiny herb shop. The heavy aroma of the sharp plants cut into Wyatt's senses at first, but after spending a few months at the shop, he found the smell didn't bother him quite as much as he thought it would. The job had started with the hunched old woman who owned the store and the WANTED sign she had placed in the window. Wyatt had applied as soon as he had seen the sign, in some desperate need for cash. The woman had agreed almost instantly, claiming she didn't care about Wyatt's lack of experience in a job, she claimed she just needed someone to be able to reach the tall shelves in her apothecary.

The apothecary itself was a strange store, quirky to the point where walking into it felt like entering another dimension, but it was good work. The woman was nice enough and she paid Wyatt more than he probably deserved for just managing the store. Tonight, the woman had left early, explaining to Wyatt in very simple Japanese that when you get old, you get tired just trying to wake up in the morning. A wheezy sort of laugh escaped her chest like someone was leaking the air out of a balloon very slowly after she had said it.

Wyatt closed up the apothecary shop and stood aimlessly on the sidewalk, looking around like the streets would give him an answer to the question drifting in his head. What now?

The answer came a second later and it was almost too obvious.

Marlon.

Of course.

If he was nearly finished with the piano for the night, maybe they could do something better than going home and lazily calling it a night.

Wyatt fished his flip phone out of his pocket, carrying a real life fossil in his jeans. The man quickly (as quickly as you can on a flip phone) jotted out a quick text to shoot to his roommate.

To: Marlon Roommate
Done @ the shop. Let's go get drinks!

Wyatt looked at the message, read it over and over. 8 words shouldn't be this hard. But they were. Wyatt mashed the delete key until he was just looking at an empty message box again. A quick breath steeled him.

Done @ shop. Want to do something? Whatever you want.

Telling Marlon "whatever you want" was always a loaded choice, but giving him the decision made Wyatt more comfortable. He may be miles away from Italy, but he could still feel the tight hold his father had on his brain. He couldn't even choose what to do for a night without reading into it too much.Marlon and Tokyo were helping, though, slowly but surely. One day, maybe he wouldn't be such a mess. One day.

A streak of soft light suddenly fell upon the sidewalk under Wyatt's feet, pulling the man's gaze from the tiny phone screen to the heavens. Full sweeps of warm light were tracing themselves across the sky like brilliant brush strokes. A tired smile worked its way onto Wyatt's lips and he suddenly felt at home looking at the meteors blazing and then flickering out. There was something comforting about the flickering lights, like things were about to change for the better.

○ Dress & Hair ○

Seok Areum
FOX SPIRIT | 1392 | #d24038

The evening haze colored their surroundings a gradient of orange and white from the sun as it slowly withdrew from the sky. A quiet bliss settled over the occupants of the room, and for a few moments it seemed as though time would truly stop; where stormy clouds would cease to pour, and birds would conclude their songs to silence. In those few moments one could capture all the loveliness of the world in a single snapshot.

It was an awful hopefulness that Areum had been certain she squashed centuries ago. It appeared however that time had not done its job properly.

The sound of rustling sheets pulled Areum away from the window — where she had been watching the city streets moments before — and next to the woman lying in bed. Carefully she began to stroke a mess of black hair that fell from the pillow like a waterfall. A quiet hum was all the thanks she received, and when she went to pull her hand away a much smaller one grabbed onto it in earnest. Areum frowned, and used her other hand to pry the woman off her.

“I enjoyed our time together,” she paused and stood up, brushing invisible dirt off her black dress.

Immediately the woman rolled off the bed clumsily and reached for her hand once more. However, in a practiced movement Areum avoided contact by tucking a fallen stand of hair behind her ear. Nothing was said, but even through persisting white noise both could hear each other perfectly. Kaori kept her gaze lowered, trying to fight off tears and a heartache she knew would last for months, while Areum looked upon the scene with disinterest.

“You can’t leave me like this,” she finally demanded, her voice softer — more timid — than what she had hoped for. Areum sighed and walked to the bed where she quickly draped the sheets over her ex-lover. “You — you promised me.”
“I did,” her reply was nonchalant and left the other speechless, “but only to a woman who loved me.”
“But I do! I — ” Kaori’s hands were white from gripping the sheets too hard, and her voice was melodic in the way only broken things ever were. If Areum had been any other person then perhaps her heart might have tugged at the sight, but more than sympathy or regret all she felt was certain type of loathing that settled in the depths of her stomach. It was time to see if she had succeeded.
“Prove it.”
Without needing further instructions Kaori quickly pulled Areum down to her level and kissed her as though she would die without it. Too bad she couldn’t see the irony in her actions.

With the woman’s warm hands cupping her jaw Areum remembered the night she found the girl lying on the street half dead — cold and lifeless and without a single soul to care for her. When subconsciously her hands tangled into the other’s black hair she was prompted to think of early morning breakfasts and secret smiles not meant to last. As she withdrew from the kiss however she felt satisfied knowing the woman loved her for all her imperfections, and all her misery.

“I love you,” Kaori was breathless and as Areum looked into her eyes all she could think of was how empty the night sky appeared to be.

Silence suffused the room and almost mechanically Areum backed Kaori into the bed before picking up the fallen sheet, and using it to tuck her in delicately. She gave the woman a chaste kiss on the forehead, not noticing the tears freely falling from the other’s eyes. Too self-absorbed was she in a job well done that the pale figure reaching out for her went unnoticed.
 
With one hand firmly on the handle to the exit Areum spoke genuinely, “Thank you.” She closed the door behind her with a soft click and smiled.

Taking out her phone she then pulled up Kaori’s contact number and without hesitating deleted her existence. 
-

Procuring another flute of champagne from a passing waiter, Areum felt the high of her evening begin to wane. The masked countenance of patrons began to bore more than bemuse her, and in alcohol she could only find so much satisfaction.

Already she was on her fourth glass, and yet she heard no pounding in her ears, felt no feeling of elation, nor saw the blurry colors of a red and gold night. Downing the drink in a single breath she then placed it on a nearby stand for someone else to clean up. It was all the same, and it tired her.

So perhaps it was a combination of both fatigue and boredom that she was made to believe with Kaori gone she needed another disaster to fill her void. There was no rhyme or reason to her want, her need; and in a span of a few moments Areum knew she needed another tragedy to smile prettily at, to claim their heart as hers. The feeling scratched at her soul with claws that tore through arteries, and didn’t wait for her to rest.

Such is the reason why when a man in a black mask and a tuxedo tailored to perfection, caught her attention she greeted him warmly. Her smile softened into something manageable, but her gaze held a glint that promised a future of either ruination or salvation.

She drew him close, her hand wrapped around his loosely made tie, and just as she was about to ask for his name, their evening was interrupted by the sudden barrage of stars. He drew away like a bird caught in a dream and quickly left the scene — the only note of his existence being the red silk tie she managed to slip off. How careless was she to let him run off without warning.

As another attendant passed by Areum immediately grabbed another flute, and when she drained its contents gone, shattered the glass with her right hand. The shards fell onto her black dress, and reflected light as to reminded her of shooting stars. Stars she refused to acknowledge. Stars that stole away her prey.

Some lager pieces had pierced her hand, but she took care of it by wiping on it on her dress. As a consequence the lacy fabric snagged onto it and caused her hand to bleed a more beautiful red. Without thinking she utilized the tie as a makeshift bandage, and grimaced at her handiwork. It could use some improving, but it would do.

All thoughts of a night well spent went up in flames, and as she made a move to pull her phone out — no doubt to yell at her dear friend Cassius for his absence— only then did she spot her gracious host brooding by the balcony.

Silently she walked through a throng of people all staring in awe at the meteor shower, and slipped next to Cassius’ side. He was as handsome as Areum remembered, but in the pale moonlight she couldn’t help but think he looked just as dead as he was supposed to be. Curved cheekbones emphasized the planes of his face, making him look all the more gaunt, and the deep set eyes that would have once enraptured her heart now looked haunted. Perhaps she was just projecting though.

In Areum’s haste though she hadn’t noticed the photographer, Kaede if she remembered right, leaning against the banister and looking for all the world as beautiful as twilight. Her allure did not lie in conventional standards — no, the red lipstick was much too hurried and the black dress, while beautiful, seemed awkward on her. However, there was something wild about her. Something free and sharp that made Areum want to try and diminish her light. Of course, she wouldn’t — after all Kaede was Cassius’ employee and they had an unsaid rule about that kind of thing, but still Areum could dream.

“A beautiful night, made all the more lovely with the sight of you,” she said looking directly at Kaede. “My business proposition still stands should you tire of Cassius.”

Whatever look he may have given her though was promptly ignored as Areum caught sight of a blonde haired boy winking at their photographer. With a glare she whispered to the two of them, “The man in the yellow vest is trying to catch your attention, should we intervene?” It was not as if they had any claim over the woman, but with a restlessness still thrumming in her veins she felt the need to antagonize whomever was in her way.

▁ ▂ ▃xxxF L Yxxxxxx ▁ ▂ ▃xxxH E Xxxx# D 2 A D 9 Dxxxxxx▁ ▂ ▃xxxW H I T ExxxD R E S S

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xxxxxxThe chair shattered against the wall. Minako flinched as she witnessed wooden shards rain to the ground through the narrow kitchen window, the noise muffling the sound of weeping trickling through the house. The neighbours were quiet, long accustomed to the war zone that raged within the four walls next door.
xxxxxxThe angel returned her gaze to the shadows of the building, waiting for the creak of a familiar bedroom window to swing open. Finally, she heard the sound. A dark head emerged from the ledge, followed by a tangle of limbs that fumbled blindly for the ground beneath it, still many precarious metres away. Yuki Honda was a certified genius with dreams of pursuing neuroscience and parents who would not spit on each other if the other were on fire. She also lacked the ability to gauge distance, though Minako supposed she need not worry about such inconsequential affairs when she had a guardian angel to watch after her.
xxxxxxYuki fell from her bedroom window.
xxxxxxMinako beat her wings—incandescent pools of light that hissed against the soft grass and exhaled a breath of air to cushion Yuki's fall. Still, the mortal girl fell hard. She groaned and rubbed her lower back, which would no doubt ache for some time.
xxxxxxMinako watched her scuttle away from the chaos of her abode, that had long ceased to be anything but a prison with a lovely facade. She felt her charge's guilt for abandoning her younger brother to their parents and their vengeful acrimony. It coated her tongue like a film of ash, until Minako felt Yuki's emotions so closely as her own that they permeated her fingernails. She had never mastered the ability to separate herself from her charges, though in this instance she felt she deserved it. Yuki's brother was only eight—what a a pathetic excuse of an angel she'd be if she cast the young boy to his fate simply because he was not promised for greatness. Yet as Yuki moved further from her brother, so did Minako, like a balloon on a leash.
xxxxxxYuki lifted the hood of her sweatshirt over her face as she moved through Tokyo, another body jostled in the crowd. The blare of horns and cacophony of footsteps crowded even one's own thoughts, but Yuki felt more free in the throngs of overpopulation than she did in the inescapable cavern of her home. Her guilt retreated, but Minako's did not recede.
xxxxxxA cluster of apartments rose in the distance, a young boy standing at its feet with a bundle of roses clinging to his palms. A wide grin lifted Yuki's cheeks as she raced towards him. She threw her arms around his narrow shoulders and he laughed, catching her like a cool tide that washed over him. Yuki spilled pure and unabated joy, filling the pool of Minako's heart and bringing to the angel's lips a smile even wider than her own.
xxxxxxThe young lovers tilted their heads to the sky, their lips parting in awe as they took gulps of the universe. Minako watched the sky fall as her wings broke open behind her. Light spilled from her spine as she shot from the ground, spinning like an arrow as she broke through the trees and clouds.
xxxxxxA laugh burst from her lips as she dived through the night sky, drifting lower until she hovered above the kaleidoscope of cars and signs. She landed softly in a cluster of trees, her wings vanishing as her bare feet touched the ground.
xxxxxxHer hair lightened, paling and curling until it was the shade of lavenders. It grazed the edge of her collarbone, and the black lace that wrapped around her thin neck. A thick ring of kohl lined her eyes, juxtaposing the flash of silver at her brow and the ring wrapped around her lower lip. Fishnet tights hugged her narrow thighs, echoing the fingerless gloves that clutched her palms. She walked through the city, stopping at a small Japanese restaurant and slowing only to snatch a cigarette from the lips of a stocky man leaning against a street corner.
xxxxxxHer charge stared aghast as she threw the cigarette to the ground, grinding it beneath her spiked boot.
xxxxxx"Don't smoke," she said. "It's bad for your lungs. Your teeth will rot. And you'll be single forever."
xxxxxx"Excuse me?" he said after a moment of shocked silence. "Who the hell do you—"
xxxxxx"I bought you a bento box." Minako placed a takeout box in his outstretched hands, which he might have been intending to use to strangle her. "Chicken teriyaki. No sesame seeds."
xxxxxx"How did you know I was allergic—"
xxxxxx"It's not too late. He'll forgive you." She gave him a small smile and a gentle pat on his hand, before disappearing into the tide of passersby on the sidewalk.
xxxxxxShe moved through the city until she reached a familiar bar. The Tipping Point was dimly lit, but she spotted the two lanky figures easily. Minako slid in beside them, and planted her face on the table.
xxxxxx"I'm so—" she began, her voice muffled behind her squished lips, "—sad. Takumi will never love me." She thought of the hulking brute and the way his face had swollen to twice its size the day he'd discovered he was allergic to nuts and seeds in all its forms. He'd remained impossibly beautiful in her eyes.
xxxxxx"Is it because I'm dead?" she bemoaned.

Thin fingers wrapped around the brass doorknob, the hand pausing as Luciana de Silva hesitated. Behind her a sun-soaked field baked in the midday heat, the warmth seeped inside and engulfed the Spanish immortal. Like a cloak, it bathed her, and with it came memories of racing across scorched earth as a child, screeching in delight at the rare freedom from thick gowns and rigid rules. Centuries stretched out behind her, holding reminders of innocence and naiveté, when her greatest trouble had been defying the women charged with her upkeep in order to spend another small moment beneath the sun’s embrace.

Now, no other could dictate her movements. Luciana went where she willed, leaping across the globe with a single step through a doorway. She traversed the land with the ease of an immortal gift and a wealthy bank account. The only thing hindering her, forcing Lucia to move, was a never ageing face and the advance of technology which meant all it would take was an acquaintance finding a photograph of her taken decades ago, yet looking exactly the same as she did today.

Now, standing on the threshold of another move, Lucia was unsure of where her future lay. Her indecision was distinct, emphasising a reluctance to leave the country in which she had been born, and an uncertainty for where she would go next. No matter the centuries that separated her mortal life from her immortal, the land behind her still held Lucia’s heart. Yet, Tokyo had called her numerous times in the past decade, and again she felt its pull. The city thrived with mortals and immortals, among them a few she counted friends. Lucia thought of the young man she had befriended a handful of decades ago, whose face would now be wrinkled with time. Or the family which ran the Japan branch of her company, their daughter a child when she last saw them.

Lucia’s decision to shift may have been her own, but it was influenced by her connections. With a sigh of acceptance her hand pushed open the door, and Luciana stepped through. Tokyo welcomed the goblin with a show of falling stars, the tumbling streaks drawing light green eyes to the wide windows. The warmth at her back was replaced with the cool air-conditioned atmosphere of her Tokyo apartment, the rustic décor of the rural villa exchanged for the modern fittings of the penthouse abode. Lights came on at the flick of a switch, and Lucia turned to properly inspect her new home.

The apartment had been redecorated since her last visit, updating the furnishings and technology throughout. The kitchen shone with sleek metals, the marble surface flawless. Lucia’s hand slid along the marble, her nails tapping out a soft tune as she breezed past. Her gaze swung around the room and then back to the large windows, through which streaking stars were still visible. They held her attention for a moment, and pulled the goblin towards the sliding glass doors that led out onto her balcony. Outside she tilted her head upwards and indulged in the spectacle, finding wonder and beauty in the meteors despite having seen countless others. None, she conceded, were quite as beautiful as these.

Lucia remained on the balcony for a time, letting the minutes tick by. She had time to spare, immortality was good in that sense. Yet, eventually she turned her gaze from the sky to the city around her. From her penthouse, Luciana had a perfect view of Tokyo’s spectacular skyline. Skyscrapers shot into the air, feats of modern architecture lit up with electronic lights and neon messages. Constant noise permeated the air; cars on the street, the echo of neighbours and the city’s pigeons settling in for the night. Lucia’s feet directed her back inside, shutting out the noise of the living city as she slid the doors shut.

A moment later she was downstairs, her gaze studying the new details of the building’s lobby as she glided up to the receptionist. The words ‘de Silva’ were engraved above the modern desk, indicating the owner of the apartment building. It had been replaced sometime since her last stay, and polished recently.

“Miss de Silva, I wasn’t aware you were in residence. My apologies.” The man bowed as Luciana came into view. He had aged since her last appearance, his hair shifting from mostly grey to all a handsome silver. The man straightened slowly, his eye crinkling at the edges as he smiled at the woman, “You must tell me your secret, miss, you haven’t aged a day.”

“It’s no secret, Shin.” Lucia replied with a smile, “A healthy diet and active lifestyle. Plus, the occasional sacrifice of a virgin soul.”

As expected the joke pulled a startled chortle from the old man, whose humour had not diminished with the passing of years. Whether Shin suspected the truth about his boss was unknown to Luciana. He had worked for her for the past decade, time enough for age to alter any mortal, yet short enough that a change of hairstyle and difference of makeup could fool the least suspecting of souls.

“I hope you have been well. And your family.” Luciana asked, the Japanese tasting foreign on her tongue. It always took the goblin a moment of speaking a language to grow once again accustomed to the way the words felt.

“As well as I can be, miss. My bones creak and my hair is vanishing, but I am happy and my family are well.” He smiled, revealing crooked front teeth and an endearing dimple in his cheek, “My daughter is a doctor now, thanks in part to your help.”

Luciana smiled, remembering a bright teenager who had showed such an interest in medicine. A glimpse of her future had allowed Lucia to pull strings with the right people, helping to secure the girl’s future. It was only ten minutes later, after hearing more of his family, and deflecting questions of her own, that Luciana shifted the conversation to her originally intended question.

“Shin, would you be able to get a message to the Shimizus? Please let them know that I have returned to Tokyo and plan on staying for an extended amount of time.” Lucia instructed, smiling her thanks as the man nodded in understanding. The Shimizu family was one of many throughout the world who handled her affairs and helped mesh the immortal goblin into the ever-changing mortal world. “And would you be able to contact Mr Honda and inform him I’ll be visiting him within the next few days.”

Shin nodded, his hand scratching out a note to himself. Luciana smiled and thanked the man, promised to have tea with him later to allow for a proper catch up, and then breezed out the large automatic doors. Tokyo met her with all the sounds she’d heard echoing up on the balcony, but now, at street level, they were louder and brighter. She breathed it in. Despite her initial hesitation, Lucia had to admit she was glad for the change from the Spanish countryside. Tokyo felt alive and thriving in a way that the relaxing Spanish hills were not.

Once, Luciana had known Tokyo as well as any other place. She had claimed it her home for years. Yet, as ever, time had changed it. Streets she had once known well had been remade, the facades of buildings updated and altered until they were barely recognisable. The throngs of locals and tourists who crowded the streets were different too, all holding smartphones in their hands that were barely dreams ten years ago. Here and there were familiar patches of the old city, resistant to the progress changing the face of the rest of the prefecture. They were few, yet welcomed and loved; ancient temples surrounded by new high rises, and deep-rooted streets with novel, new shops.

Without a destination in mind Luciana set off down the pavement, determined to explore and rediscover the ever-changing Tokyo.

A sprawling complex centrally located on Mount Song, visitors of the site do not know what to be more impressed by: the concert of Mother Nature’s forces in creating the gorgeous landscape or the inhabitants’ organic assimilation into the site, their superior architecture intrinsically owing to the earth itself. The Shaolin monastery, one of the original spiritual institutions in all of China. The oldest parts of the temple grounds are suggestive of this storied history. Some might view these towering edifices as decrepit and possessing an air of decay; carpets of green muddying the sharp angles of its composition, their faces discolored and weathered by the elements. While ancient in its formation its overgrown complexion is evocative of progress; the vivacity of natural life melding with the the man-made, abounding and adapting in spite of Earth’s caprice. A glorious unity of man with his environment in a harmonious milieu testing its integrity against time and fate.

Eclipsed by the midday sun as light flows over him in a soft gold hue, sinewy muscles tight from exertion, stands the one individual who embodies this exceptional consistency with his surroundings. Alone in a temple courtyard, Jiangyu was deeply concentrated on his training, his every movement charged in reverence to the heavens. The clunk and swoosh of each swing of his staff were reverberant against the stone terrain. The grounds were eerily empty as the other monks aggregated for the evening meditation. Jiangyu had the intention of going as well but he quickly devolved to the depths of his mind.

Despite his years of mental training there were few occasions when the horrors of his past roared forth with striking realism. The previous night he had dreamt of the late Queen Shen cast in an angelic visage as he was wrapped in the arms of her motherly embrace. Moments later came the hulking silhouette of his brother, Prince Yijiu, and his subordinates marching in line as if they were soldiers headed for battle. Queen Shen and Jiangyu ran as fast as they could, but they could not escape the behemoth strides of their pursuers. With their last breath they collapsed in exhaustion and they were at once shrouded in the shadow of Prince Yijiu who, with chilling certitude, trampled over their measly frames. Spurred awake by this incident and drenched in a cold sweat, Jiangyu spent the rest of the late hours of the night huddled in a ball praying for these phantoms to leave him.

These thoughts throbbed in Jiangyu’s mind, each sensation prompting feelings of remorse and regret. Normally blindingly fast and acute in his movements, each stroke upraised by a geometric precision, he was now hampered by a heavy-handedness that wavered his lines. Though his muscles groaned in resistance, Jiangyu was determined to finish his routine.

Of all the weapons the Shaolin monks used Jiangyu was the preeminent master of the staff. Always a pacifist, he preferred the staff’s lean shape to the menacing severity of swords and spears. Monks never fought to kill, so when equipped with staff in hand, Jiangyu was deeply aware of the weapon's ability to accomplish this goal, redirecting the anger and frustration of the aggressor and the person wielding it. In contrast, blades always felt ungainly in his grip; devices that suspended human sincerity and coaxed them to blood lust. In this moment, however, Jiangyu found himself yearning for that sensation, the ability to determine the fate of someone by the simple slash of a blade.

“I have atoned for my sins, what more could I have done!” His voice trembled in resignation and defeat. His body thudded to ground in exhaustion and his staff clattered past him despite his scant efforts to grab it. He struck his head back down with enough force to lose consciousness if not for his physical numbness. Staring up into the skies posed a fitting slate for his musings, but he was at once startled when he heard the sharp chip in the dull roll of the staff. He did not recognize the monk who picked it up, but that was to be expected due to Jiangyu’s only recent arrival at the monastery.

“It appears sufferance does not end when we renounce our fetters to the mortal world”, the wizened man asserted, “what do you find now that ails you and that reflection cannot cure?” His words were amiable and yet an anger welled in Jiangyu that was uncharacteristic of his craft.

“I’m afraid it’s an affair that cuts too deep and others cannot hope to understand” Jiangyu remarked brushing him off. The old man began a methodical approach toward him, his arms raised in an expression of forfeiting verbal defense.

“Sure cast me aside with your uncouth words”, he threw the staff to Jiangyu, “but that serves no purpose than to create greater rancor within the soul”. Not so easily perturbed he sat across on the ground from Jiangyu so as to attempt to force the conversation.

“We all have struggled, but it is this path we have chosen to accept the hardships of this life and free ourselves from the cycle of reincarnation”. Jiangyu grumbled in assent and quickly rectified his ill-suited demeanor in his address.

“Forgive me lǎoshī, for treating you so. My mind is ill at ease for I am constantly haunted by my sins”, Jiangyu quickly sat himself down so as to talk to the old man as equals.

“One can only begin to free himself from earthly attachment,” elucidated the old man, “if he first refuses to be captive to the environment he finds himself. Calm your heart and your mind. Unseal the troubles sealing your chakras; let them flow with the cleansing energy of meditation.”

This advice came in spite of Jiangyu’s poor manners, so he was wont to heed his words. The old man had already arranged himself in meditative formation; he sat cross-legged, back erect, breathing slowed, and eyes closed.

Jiangyu quickly followed suit and within a matter of minutes he found himself in a trance focusing all his energy on his breathing. Thus consigned to the annals of his inner self, at this juncture, his perception seemed unusually aware. He had a mastery of meditative practices, but he had never before been barraged by the animation of his surroundings nor heard a distant voice that simultaneously spoke with stunning clarity, both of which greeted him now.

The voice said, “I wish I had someone special to share this with. A friend, partner, sibling… anyone. And I wish I could put this into music, I wish I could play how this makes me feel. The beauty of it, the loneliness."

He felt a tingling sensation against skin almost prickling with the quality of electricity and he heard the slight hum of gusting winds. Something was amiss. With his heightened cognitive skills, even with eyes still closed, he had realized that the space around him had changed. Instead of the crisp aroma of blooming vegetation he was greeted by the pungent smells of pollution and filth.

Jiangyu opened his eyes to find a pale-skinned youth by his lonesome, face fixed in the effect of longing and desire. His brilliant hazel eyes sparkled with ferocity as they scoured the skies as if petitioning the heavens. His body, with back turned away from him, was positioned in a diminutive state, slightly hunched at the shoulders and legs crossed in timidity. Jiangyu was not so much as shocked by his surroundings than he was at finding another emotionally castrate individual caught in his vulnerability as he himself had just been. It appeared to be a sign from the universe.

The youth began to walk away failing to notice the man clad in bright orange robes directly behind him. It was then with a resounding clamor and a scurry away that he would respond to the foreign voice that called out to him, “umm… excuse me…”

thump. thump. thump. thump. thump. thump. thump. thu...

XXXThe music was as one would expect in a nightclub- repetitive and heady. A song to dance to, rather than sing along with. Neon lights flashed, erratic and urgent, and the dance floor was a single, heaving mass of sweat and libido.

XXXStill, despite the hormonal tinge to the atmosphere, one could not deny that the masquerade was a classy affair. Everyone was dressed to the nines, eager to show off both money and skin, and the masks that everyone wore exemplified the seriousness with which everyone present took the theme of the night.

XXXIt was a shame, really, that she could not even try to enjoy it.

XXXWell, no. That was a lie. She could try to enjoy it, but she knew that she wouldn't. Environments like these, with their dizzying lights, humid airs and crowded spaces, simply did not fit her idea of a good time. She preferred muted places; places of calm quiet where she could collect her thoughts without straining to hear them over cacophonous music.

XXXIt would have been rude to refuse the invitation, though. Areum had insisted on putting her and her team on the list, and had seemed so delighted to do so. No to mention that the rest of the team were so damn chuffed about being able to attend such a high-profile event at such a glamorous location- cops didn't experience those kinds of perks very often.

XXXSo here she was.

XXXLeaning back against the bar, the police officer looked out unto the crowd with an unreadable expression. Like everyone else, a mask hid half her features. Unlike everyone else, her mask was painfully plain; a simplistic, black, matte thing that inspired little majesty.

XXXA shy giggle to her right made her cringe, and she looked towards the couple. The girl was dressed prettily, in a forest-colored dress and black heels which wrapped around her calves. The girl kept subconsciously pulling at the dress' hem, and her feet flexed uncomfortable in the touch-too-tight footwear. Dressed up and dragged here by a friend, no doubt. The man standing beside her had a smooth smile beneath his silver-lined mask, and he leaned towards her with a natural swagger, as though he already knew exactly how his night was going to go. He waved a hand at the bartender, gesturing with two fingers and calling out the name of a drink that Shiori didn't quite catch. The girl looked surprised, flattered, a touch embarrassed.

XXXShe couldn't understand the reason for her stare, but she found herself somewhat hypnotized by the girl's awkwardness. Her shy responses to the flirtations of a handsome stranger. Shiori's stomach felt heavy- was that envy, deep down inside her? God, she hoped not. How pathetic would that be?

XXXAs a drunken man stumbled into the pair, the girl let out a small squeal of surprise. The stranger's arm slipped around her defensively, protecting her from the stumbler's spraying drink. Shiori almost smiled, but instead she frowned. "Do you mind?!" The man said accusingly. He and the 'drunk' met gazes, and Shiori felt a stab of distrust. A sense of the plasticity of the man's supposed rage. She looked to the girl's unprotected drink, catching the sight of fizzing; a pill dissolving in the topaz liquid.

XXXThat fucking asshole.

XXXShe rose from her chair with purpose, face stony and fingers itching to become fists. Striding towards the two, she cut between the pair. The two looked at her in confusion. "Ah... Can I help you?" The girl was the first one to speak. Up close Shiori could see the row of false lashes on her left eye beginning to come loose. Shiori gestured to the man.

XXX"Do you know this guy?"

XXX"Uh... no. But who-"

XXX"I wouldn't drink that, if I were you. This asshole spiked it."

XXX"Look lady," The man had risen from his seat, his face contorted into a (very) forced smile. "You can't just go around accusing people of-"

XXXHe was cut off by her badge, a silver thing that glittered enticingly in the strobe lights. "Are you denying it?" His jaw flexed, and he smirked again. He held up his hands in mock-surrender. That... isn't the reaction I was supposed to get.

XXX"Nothing happened, officer." He took the girl's drink and poured it onto the floor. The liquor splashed at Shiori's shoes. "No harm no foul, right?"

XXXLeaning close, he read the police ID before his eyes flicked back to hers. "Officer Ikeda, huh?" Smile. "I'll remember that."

XXXPicking up his own drink, he did not spare his almost-victim a second glance as he turned from the bar and headed back into the fray. Shiori scowled at his retreating back, before turning to the young woman still sitting at the bar, stunned into silence. "Th-thank you. I had no idea-" "It's fine. You didn't drink any of that, did you?" She waved a hand at the now-empty glass. The woman shook her head. "Good." "It's so horrible, I never would have thought he-" "It's not your fault. It's not like assholes wear a uniform." Shoving her badge back into her jacket pocket, Shiori smiled at the woman. "Go home early tonight, okay?" "Uh, yeah... okay."

XXXNodding to the girl, Shiori returned to her own seat, waving the bartender over and finally deciding to have that drink she'd been resisting since she'd arrived here. She opened her hand to catch the drink as the bartender slid the jameson-on-the-rocks into her hand, only to frown when he paused. "Uh, I noticed what you did there, and it was good of you, but-" "If you noticed what was going on, why didn't you do anything?" The bartender flushed, a guilty look on his face. "Uh, well, it's just that- that guy... he's a regular." "Oh. So date-rape is part of the club-membership pack?" "No! It's just- Well... he's Nakantani Keichi... Son of Nakatani Yuji."

XXXA moment of frozen horror. "... You mean, Secretary of Defense Nakatani Yuji?" An affirmative nod, and a sympathetic look as the bartender slid the drink over to her. "This one is on me, okay?" Flexing her jaw, Shiori took the glass from his hand, and turned back to the crowd. At one of the tables, she could see Nakantani Keichi leaning against a wall, surrounded by friends. He caught her gaze, and smirked, raising his glass.

XXXSmug little shit. I'll remember that.

XXX Officer Ikeda? I'll remember that.

XXXShe moved to take a much needed sip of her drink, only to find she'd already downed it.

The crisp breeze of the evening brushed past Alucio's face, the alerting chill welcome on his always unusually warm skin. The tall, stolid man stalked down the city sidewalk, pace kept at a brisk, steady tempo, his long trench coat trailing behind him like a sentient shadow. Tucked under his arm, he carried a stiff black hat, waiting for its moment to fulfill its purpose. Despite walking along the outermost edge of the pavement, he still found himself taking a step this way and that to avoid bumping shoulders with some oblivious passerby, the scowl lines around his mouth growing deeper with every close encounter.

He arrived, thankfully, at his destination before his face could permanently be stretched into an ugly expression of displeasure. As he lifted an arm, pressed a palm against the cool glass of the hospital door, his other hand took the hat out from under his arm. He stepped over the threshold as he disappeared from mortal view, brim of his hat pulled down low over his eyes. Glancing briefly down at the thick white cardstock cupped in his palm, he set off towards the West Ward, the rubber soles of his worn leather shoes clacking against the linoleum floors. The echo of the sharp crack felt acutely lonely under the flickering fluorescent lights of the hallway, and for a moment, Alucio slowed his pace, soaking in the otherworldly atmosphere of the stretch of hall that seemed to go for miles. It was unnerving, in a very pleasant kind of way. He closed his eyes—still stepping assuredly forward, no hesitation in his long strides—and listened to the low ringing of tinnitus in his ears. If he concentrated, he could still hear the buzz of activity somewhere in the distance, but there was nothing but silence where he was going. He could see why. It smelled more like Death the closer he got to his destination.

He rounded a corner, passed a long string of hospital rooms, decay emanating from each one, until he paused in front of 267. Yes, this was the one. He stepped inside and paused again. A silhouette stood at the window, illuminated by both the moonlight and the unnatural city glow of street lamps and office lights. Alucio was not sure who looked more like a shadow: her bent figure against the dark sky, littered with erratic flashes of light, or her discarded husk of a body lying limp on the starchy sheets of the hospital bed. He crossed the room until he stood at her shoulder. She said nothing. For a moment, he looked on with the old woman, two sets of mournful eyes watching as the sky fell apart.

Then, with a short sigh, he looked down at the small card once more. "Ogata Yutsuko," he read off, monotonously. The buzz of activity came back, grew louder with each passing second. "Eighty six years old. Born on February 11th, 1931. Died at 7:24pm on April 1st, 2017. Cause of death is a heart attack." He took a glance at her impassive face. "This is you, right?"

The attending physician burst into the room, followed closely by two nursing assistants. The lights flashed on, dimmed the magnificence of the outside spectacle. Very simply, in a warbling voice, the old woman answered, "Yes."

Alucio nodded, took the gnarled hand of his latest assignment in his own, and stepped around the doctor and nurses gathered around her bedside. He looked towards the heart monitor, still sounding its steady alarm, and thought that death and silence did not sound so different after all.

It was not until he was halfway across the spacious lobby of the hospital that his phone sounded an urgent beeping from his pocket. Hastily, he fished it out, brows furrowing at the sight of the text message from his colleague and roommate. Mentally, he noted the plans before replacing his cell; it would be far too unprofessional to respond during work. Another acquaintance caught his eye from the far end of the lobby, the visage of a little girl flickering and mildly translucent, giving way to the image of a familiar somber looking young man. He considered, for an instant, greeting the angel, but quickly thought better of it. They were, after all, nothing but neighbors, weren't they? Going out of his way to say hello would be strange. Instead, he stepped out into the chill of the evening once more, gently guiding the old woman in the direction they needed to go. They were silent all the way there.

She drank the tea with little fuss, a small smile perched on her thin lips, mostly hidden by the prominent wrinkles around her mouth. He admired her, if only a little, her peaceful disposition. When he'd told her so, she'd only responded, "I have lived long enough to see all I need to see."

"I'm glad," she said, as her features smoothed out, spine straightened, "I got to see the stars before the end."

Alucio only hummed a low note in response. He stood, moved to the door, and she followed suit, walking steadily on elegant legs, reaching him just as he swung it open. She breezed past, paused on the first step of the stairs. "Thank you," she said, inclining her head slightly, and Alucio returned her smile. He watched until her figure was entirely enveloped by warm, white haze.

As he placed the used tools in the sink, Alucio remembered Seung, likely already waiting at the bar. He opened the conversation and wrote:

TO: TENANT
OKAY.

And then he turned on the faucet.

The walk to the bar was a brief one, and in just a few minutes, Alucio was hastily pushing the door shut to prevent any more cold air from entering. "It better be the good stu—" he began, but died off as he looked up from his shoes and saw the three occupants of their usual corner area. That was two more than the one he was expecting. "Oh," he said, stopping short.

He shook off the surprise and slid into his seat next to Seung. "Hello," he said, lifting a hand in greeting towards Haku. He might have greeted Mina as well had she not been slumped over, facedown on the bar, moaning incoherently. "I didn't think tonight was one of gathering nights."

He considered the female angel for a moment, thought of the consequences of his potential actions, then, with a soft sigh, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "Here," he said, sliding it across the wood. "The bar top is covered in germs. Put this over it." Without waiting for a response from her, he turned his attention towards Seung. Or rather, his sake. He didn't ask before swiping the glass and taking a long swig.

▁ ▂ ▃xxxM A G N E T Sxxxxxx ▁ ▂ ▃xxx# 5 E 7 D 7 Exxx# B 3 8 4 8 1xxxxxx▁ ▂ ▃xxxA P E XxxxN I G H T C L U B

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xxxxxx"Hey." His eyes remained shut. "You lied to me."
xxxxxxCassius responded with a noncommittal grunt. Of course he'd lied to her. Dishonesty was his resting state; deception unraveled from his tongue as easily as Kaede's first thought fell from hers. The fox granted stolen lives found the young woman almost as refreshing as she was pretty. Almost.
xxxxxxThen again, she was very pretty.
xxxxxxCassius peeked at her through one eye, noting the swathe of colour on her lids visible beneath her mask. A smirk emerged on his lips. He wondered, did the defiant mortal girl dress up just for him?
xxxxxxBefore he could part his lips to usher a flush that was equal parts rage and embarrassment to her cheeks, she interrupted him. Her hands found his pockets, to which he arched a single brow. Cassius flashed a devilish grin just as Kaede captured his likeness on his phone.
xxxxxx"So you look disgustingly amazing as always," she said after returning his phone to his custody. "I was in the middle of doing something, you lying trickster."
xxxxxx"Were you redecorating your home with countless images of me?" he teased. "I wouldn't blame you." Cassius leaned against the bannisters, fingers flitting to rub his stubbled jaw. "Who did you smuggle into my club? Someone worthy of your company, I hope. You deserve nothing less."
xxxxxxCassius took a step forward and leaned down so their noses were nearly grazing. "But not too worthy," he murmured. His eyes followed the path of his knuckles that grazed the slip of dark hair that brushed her collarbone. "I wouldn't want to battle them for your attention." He straightened, moving away as a grin revealed the dimple in his cheek and his shock of straight white teeth. "Prison ages you, I hear."
xxxxxx“A beautiful night, made all the more lovely with the sight of you,” a melodious voice spoke. Cassius had barely noticed Areum's approach, though centuries spent in the company of a person so much like himself had a way of rendering her so much a part of his own existence that she barely seemed a separate entity at all. “My business proposition still stands should you tire of Cassius.”
xxxxxx"We could always share," he mused. "Surely you remember how well that went the first time." The humour was veiled in memory, spoken of pasts long gone and none but the two fox spirits could recall. He remembered clearly having claimed the mesmerising mortal for his own before the younger fox spirit attempted to steal her away. They had fought vehemently, only to realise the mortal not only had no more reincarnations left to give, but that she was wholly devoted to her soulmate of four lifetimes. They'd become companions ever since.
xxxxxx“The man in the yellow vest is trying to catch your attention, should we intervene?” asked Areum.
xxxxxxCassius traced the path of Kaede and Areum's gazes as they moved away from him to land on a lanky figure with a swath of pale hair, made all the more dazzling by the lights that spilled from the corners of the balcony. Cassius smiled and tilted his head, urging Basil near.
xxxxxx"Is that who you brought along?" said Cassius. "He was already on the list. I know how inseparable the both of you are. Besides—" Cassius lifted the flute of champagne to his lips and drank deeply, his jade eyes never leaving the tall boy, "—he's quite pleasant to look at.
xxxxxx"Basil," he called as Kaede's friend neared, his vaguely Italian accent flourishing the name in a slow purr. "The attire suits you—or perhaps it's my club." He smiled. "You should visit more often."
xxxxxxHe cast an appreciative gaze in Areum's direction, noting the dainty curl of her nose and the swell of her lips, which she'd no doubt been using for more than smalltalk. Dark lace curled around her body, an alluring orchestrated masterpiece of swells and dips that captivated many patrons of his club. She was impossibly beautiful in the objective sense, but he felt when he gazed upon her what he did when he'd travelled to a dazzling limestone cave hidden in Malaysia before mortals had discovered it and hollowed it for minerals.
xxxxxxAreum was breathtaking, but so lonely it ached.
xxxxxx"I believe you've yet to meet," said Cassius, his voice low. "This is Areum, though I doubt a woman like herself requires an introduction."
xxxxxxA parting of the seas caught his attention and Cassius turned to watch as a girl marched purposefully through the throng of bodies to challenge a man and assist a rather inebriated woman. Cassius frowned as the man flashed a lopsided grin and emptied the contents of a glass on the ground. The reality of the situation dawned on him as his bartender's furrowed brows mimicked the tense line of his mouth as he spoke to the defiant girl.
xxxxxx"Excuse me," muttered Cassius to his companions, though he was already moving towards the bouncers by the entrance of the illuminated balcony. "Get him out of my club." Cassius nodded towards the entitled man lurking in the fringes with his friends. "Them, too."
xxxxxx"But sir, that's—"
xxxxxx"I don't care if he's the reincarnation of the last shogun himself," Cassius interjected. "We don't tolerate sexual violence of any kind in my establishment."
xxxxxx"Yes, sir." He watched as his broad employees marched to apprehend the men, a feat far more difficult than it appeared. They proved adamant in their desire to remain and their resistance had drawn the attention of one too many attendees of the masquerade. Finally, Cassius strode towards them and wrapped his hands around the biceps of two exceedingly aggressive men.
xxxxxx"Ow!"
xxxxxx"What the—"
xxxxxx"I would appreciate it if you would leave," said Cassius, his grip tightening for emphasis. "Quietly."
xxxxxx"Shit, whatever. Just let go. This club's lame anyway."
xxxxxxTheir departure amplified the quiet that had befallen the Apex. The scene had stifled the enthusiasm that had thrived prior to the commotion. Cassius turned to address his audience.
xxxxxx"Free cocktails for everyone!" he called out.
xxxxxxThe crowd cheered, and the party returned to its former splendour.

▁ ▂ ▃ ▂ ▁

xxxxxxThe handkerchief smelled of snow and pine, or love and eternal devotion. It was always difficult to distinguish. Minako emerged from hiding, her wide eyes lifting to gaze at the reaper with overwhelming parts awe and adoration. Her lips parted and shut, only to part again and slam closed. Minako gaped and floundered in the tide of emotions and unspoken words. She was a dam breaking open, a tree split by lightning, a cliff at the brink of a waterfall.
xxxxxxI love you, I love you, I love you.
xxxxxxThe words caught in her throat as they always did, where they'd slumbered for two-hundred and fourteen years, or seventy-eight thousand, one hundred and ten days. How she wished everyday she'd spoken them to Satoru, who'd chosen another without ever knowing her heart. Who'd died believing she'd loathed him.
xxxxxxPerhaps if she broke herself open and gave away her pieces to whoever might take it, she would eventually discard every part of herself that he'd touched and decided he did not want.
xxxxxx"T-hank you," she stuttered. "Are you— How are—"
xxxxxxShe clutched the handkerchief to her chest. The words wouldn't come. They never came. She would die with them but the irony was that she already had. Yes, surely Takumi could not love her. The mortal girl she'd been had died long ago, and the persona that had taken her place was certainly not not dead. Minako was an animated corpse. She was worse than an animated corpse. She wasn't even a hot animated corpse like those presently seated beside her.
xxxxxx"Germs are the only things that will touch me." She planted her face on the table, and folded the handkerchief into a perfect square, which she would keep for prosperity for the rest of eternity.
xxxxxx"You look like you could use a drink."
xxxxxxMinako lifted her head to meet the eyes of the bartender.
xxxxxx"What can I get you?"
xxxxxx"Yes."
xxxxxx"I'm sorry?"
xxxxxx"I'll take anything you'll give me." She gaped.
xxxxxx"Vodka on the rocks...?" the bartender began tentatively, his expression conveying that he was finding her stranger by the minute.
xxxxxx"I mean, I'd prefer a bed..."
xxxxxx"What?"
xxxxxx"I love—to sleep." Minako turned away to stare intently at the three immortals beside her, her eyes screaming for help or death. I hate myself, she mouthed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
xxxxxx"That'll be two-thousand yen."
xxxxxxMinako swallowed a deafening cry. "Sure." Put me out of my misery, she told her companions telepathically as she slipped her debit card across the counter.
xxxxxx"Um, can you let go?" the bartender prodded, tugging at the card Minako pressed with white knuckles against the table. Minako darted her gaze towards the door, contemplating the speed at which she could run to avoid the authorities. Finally, she allowed the bartender to tear her savings from her. She was sweating.
xxxxxx"I'm going to pretend I ate the next week. Am eating? Will?" Minako's voice was shrill as she suffocated on her cries, all the while draining her glass of vodka between her choking. "Everything's fine. I'm fine. I love life. Life hates me but it's okay. I love to suffer."
xxxxxx"Here's your card back."
xxxxxx"Keep it. You've taken everything else," she gasped. "Like my dignity."
xxxxxx"Is she... Okay?" the bartender asked slowly.
xxxxxx"You don't even remember my name."

Ryan 'Rango' Prosker
"A good drink will dull the senses, a great drink will erase them altogether."

Ambience --- Hex #AE0202 --- Leather Jacket

You would think that a man who was capable of flying his way through a hail of gunfire and rockets would be able to easily find his way out of a hospital. You would be wrong, because Ryan was having way more trouble than he cared to admit. One hand held the English to Japanese dictionary, while another hand aimlessly waved about in an effort to figure out his bearings. He could just start taking doors at random, but that would present another set of problems that Ryan was not wanting to deal with. His attempts to stop a couple of people in order to get directions were either met with him being ignored or stared at as he laughably tried some Japanese phrases. Either way, he was about ten seconds away from jumping through a window and seeing if he could simply fly to the bar.

It was at this moment that a young Japanese girl wandered up to him. A girl scout? In a hospital? At night? By herself? There were so many questions Ryan wanted to ask but thought better of it as she immediately launched into a tirade of the unknown language, stopping for but a moment as Ryan raised an eyebrow at the girl. His fingers flipping through the pages, trying to find enunciations that matched up the the rapid pace of speech this child had just given to him. “Uhhhhh…” Ryan murmured to himself, his eyes darting from the pages to the girl and back again. It was but a second later that she spoke in English, broken but definitely understandable.

She asked if he wanted some cookies, and before he could respond, she spoke again. ”Life is full of constant disappointment and heart-aching...But whenever I begin to question the pointless cycle of life, I find biting in a cookie is helpful in calming of my mind.” Ryan stared at her for a moment, caught between shock and surprise at the little girl. It was almost like she was reading his mind, and considering the amount of things he had heard and/or seen come out of this country, part of him wondered if that wasn’t in fact true. Before he could say anything, she pointed him towards the exit, shoved the cookies into his chest and skipped off. Ryan found himself staring at her for far longer than any adult man should stare at a small child, and shook his head.

“What?” Ryan asked more to himself than anything else. He looked down at the cookies, then back up at where the girl had skipped to. “What?” He repeated to himself, catching a few looks from passing nurses and doctors. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, all he knew was that her English was better than his Japanese, and that embarrassed him. He stared at the package of cookies, chocolate flavor, and wondered if this was some elaborate plan to poison him using an unassuming yet somehow creepily knowledgable girl. He shook his head and walked in the direction that she had pointed him towards. He was left with more questions than answers as he found the correct set of doors that would lead him outside. Note to self...make a map. Ryan thought to himself as he opened the package of cookies and peered inside. He picked one out of the box as he made his way towards the exit, looking it over before giving it a bite.

Mmmmm, chocolatey.

The crisp air outside was a welcome reprieve to the stuffy atmosphere he had just been subjected to. He stood outside the doors for a moment, his hand repeatedly dipping into the box and munching away at the cookies inside. He peered around at his surroundings, everything alien to the American as he didn’t even attempt to make sense of the signs and writing around him. He pocketed the dictionary into his jacket and took out the note that Konatsu had handed him instead. On it were directions written to the bar as plainly as he could make them, only an idiot wouldn’t have been able to find it.

Then again, Ryan had to get help from a girl scout just to exit a hospital...so the odds were not in his favor.

He started wandering down the street, the slight amount of wind pulling his jacket behind him as he peered through the nearly empty streets. Bits of litter floated as if pulled from invisible strings, windows were alight with activity like fireflies, but souls seemed to be absent from his view. It took a few minutes before he saw another person, which was a blessing as he had slowly been convincing himself he had died and been put in purgatory or something akin to a slow form of psychological torture. The lack of bodies was getting to him, he could feel himself getting agitated and antsy at the fact that he was practically alone in an unknown world. How he wished his buddies could have made the trip, or even if there was one more English speaking person walking beside him. He hated solitude, despised it with every fiber of his being.

With only the passing moments of people wandering by to keep his mind from spiraling into a desperate search for conversation, he could sense that familiar feeling of irritation welling up inside him. It felt like his entire body was restless, but would eventually evolve into an itch he couldn’t scratch, until it felt like his entire body wanted to spasm. He had once been told this was all a psychosomatic reaction to his natural inclination to always want to be surrounded by people, but whether it was in his head or not, it felt just as real. Luckily, before it could get any worse, he arrived at the bar that Konatsu had pointed him towards.

Ryan took a moment to size the place up, and to be quite frank it seemed about a half step up from a dive bar. Maybe Konatsu came here to avoid all the high profile people he had to deal with on a daily basis. It could have been his oasis in a desert of snobby lawyers, idiot executives, and stupid shareholders. Ryan double and triple checked the name and Kanji on the note, making sure he was in the right place before replacing the note into his pocket and digging for more cookies. His hand came back empty, so with a frown he looked inside the box to see that he had eaten them all in the short time it took him to get to the bar. Oh man I’m going to have to run that off later. Ryan thought to himself as he wondered how hard he had been pigging out just now, lost in his own thoughts. He looked around for a garbage can, and found a dumpster on the side of the building. He tossed the empty box into it before making his way inside.

The interior was dimly lit, either on purpose or because they couldn’t afford better lighting. Several tables were placed around the room, oddly enough they were the ones he was used to eating at. Ryan had the impression he would be kneeling at every establishment he went to, with the tables that might as well have been floors. Aside from that, it wasn’t bad. The atmosphere had a homely touch to it, the kind where the ‘everyone knows everyone’ vibe seemed to perpetuate the air, although he doubted that was the case. There was a bar counter with stools as well, and despite there being several people in groups among the tables, Ryan opted for the spot closest to the supply of alcohol. He didn’t know anyone, add in the fact that the language barrier made it extremely difficult to communicate and you have yourself one hell of a recipe for great misunderstandings. It was fine though, so long as people were around him and chatting away, Ryan could get rid of his antisocial anxiety.

As Ryan took a seat at the counter the Bartender came over, an aging man who looked to be about in his forties. He was completely bald although it was most likely from choice, and a surprisingly few wrinkles marred his face. If it wasn’t for the other physical facts, such as his slightly hunched posture and aging skin on his hands, Ryan could have easily mistaken him for someone closer to his own age. “Watashi ni nani ga dekiru?” Ryan didn’t bother trying to answer, instead he fished out the note in his pocket and looked it over. There were phrases written, including one that introduced him as a friend to Konatsu. He narrowed his eyes at the phrase, but luckily Konatsu had been kind enough to spell out the pronunciation of the words.

“Watashi wa Konatsu no tomodachidesu.” Ryan stated, heavily aware that his accent was most likely making the Japanese nearly unintelligible. The Bartender widened his eyes slightly and gave a smile.

“Ah! You must be Prosker-san!” The bartender stated in heavily accented English. Ryan looked up, pleasantly surprised that the man understood English at all.

“Oh thank God. You know English?” Ryan asked, severely relieved at not having to deal with a language barrier that would result in him simply emphasizing just how western he was. The Bartender shrugged.

“Here there.” The man stated, turning around and grabbing a bottle that Ryan could only hope had something that would knock him on his ass. “Konatsu-sama call ahead, he say put everything on his bill. You drink free tonight.” Ryan blinked for a moment, he had been expecting a discount not a free ride to blissful drunk town.

“I’m going to owe him something fierce…” Ryan muttered as the bartender looked under the counter.

“Gomen'nasai?” He asked, of which Ryan took a wild guess as to what that meant.

“Eh, nothing. Just muttering to myself.” The bartender nodded before seemingly cursing to himself as he reached underneath the counter and pulling out nothing. He cursed, or at least Ryan took it as cursing, in Japanese several times before placing the bottle on the bar.

“No cups, I get cups. Be right back.” The bartender stated before moving towards a curtain, yelling something in Japanese and getting yelled at back by someone with a slightly deeper voice than his. Ryan looked at the bottle, and naturally it was all in the language of the natives. He couldn’t understand what it said, so he took to taking a look around the bar instead. There were a number of people in the building. There were a couple of people huddled in a corner having a hushed conversation, a lonely looking man having a drink by himself and a group of four with a woman face down on the table. That sight brought about a confused look from Ryan, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate distress so he didn’t think it was warranted for him to intervene. All in all, the atmosphere was melancholic. Considering his own emotional fragility at the moment, this was not something that he wanted to be around.

It was then that the Bartender came back, carrying a few cups and placed them all under the counter while leaving one in front of Ryan. He muttered to himself in Japanese, and while the language may be different, the verbal cues of griping because of a lazy or incompetent worker was universally understood. The Bartender took the bottle and poured the liquid into the cup. “Sake, drink.” The man stated, to which Ryan grabbed the small bowl-shaped cup and brought it up to his lips.

“Domo Arigato.” Ryan stated, and immediately the Bartender’s face turned sour.

“What you call me?! You have nerve!” The surprise at the Bartender’s sudden shift in mood combined with the strength of the drink was enough to make Ryan gulp in surprise and start a coughing fit as he held up a hand, speaking in a hushed whisper as he attempted to swallow what he could in time to say something.

“What did I say? I thought that was thank you! Was it not thank you?!” The Bartender’s expression deadpanned for a moment before he burst into laughter, slapping the table slightly.

“It is! I make joke!” He continued laughing as Ryan cleaned up his face, grabbing the towel the Bartender eventually offered him.

“Ah yes, make fun of the American and his uncultured ways, how civilized of you.” Ryan stated in a mocking tone, although his smile was wide and genuine. He didn’t mind being the butt of a joke so long as people were having a good time. Besides, it helped him push everything that had just happened to the back of his mind. He was never good with dealing with his own emotional issues, preferring to ignore everything that wasn’t beneficial to the people around him. “I think we’ll get along just fine. What do I call you?”

“Miyata Yoshinobu.” The Bartender replied, cleaning up a bit of the spilled sake with a smile still on his face. Ryan took another shot of the Sake, breathing through his teeth as the alcohol hit his system.

“And...Miyata is your family name right? You place your names backwards to western culture?”

“Yoshinobu personal name, Miyata family name.” Ryan gave a nod.

“Alright Yoshi, then while I’m drinking on my friend’s tab, might as well let everyone else get in on the fortune too. He’s rich, he can afford it. Get everyone in here a drink of their choice and charge it to Konatsu.” Yoshi seemed to hesitate slightly before Ryan gave a wave. “He could buy this Bar with his pocket change, he won’t look twice I promise.” Yoshi yelled back into the kitchen-type area, and out came a younger looking gentleman. Most likely it was Yoshi’s son as his tone seemed to convey...a familial order to it. He barked some orders in Japanese and soon enough the man was moving from group to group asking them what drink they would like and explaining that it was already paid for.

“Generous with other people’s money.” Yoshi stated, to which Ryan gave a shrug.

“Better I spend it on other people than just myself, don’t you think?” Ryan asked, taking another shot of Sake as once again thoughts of his parents came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. There was only one way that he was going to get through tonight in any form of happiness or blissful ignorance. ”Now, keep hitting me with the strong stuff till I can’t see straight.”

Seung & Seok Areum
GRIM REAPER | #D08462 | FOX SPIRIT | #D24038

The sound of another occupant moving into the booth left Seung mildly more happy than he had been moments before. Such a feeling was not meant to last however, and as his neighbor began to speak his mood only soured, “I didn’t know you frequented ‘The tipping point’. My charge might visit here tonight. Please don’t take his soul. I’ve only just received his case and it would look terrible on my record if he died the first night in my care.”

Sighing heavily he then took a sip of his drink, “Only after work,” he lifted his head so his eyes could meet his neighbor's, “Haku, Reapers only take the lives of those destined to die, we don’t get to choose.”They remained silent until the bartender came and the Angel ordered a glass of water. Seung felt a sense of understanding knowing it was probably to save money. He would have offered the man a drink but knowing Alucio and his penchant for more expensive drinks, he would need to cut his losses where he could. Adding another expense would be detrimental.

With nothing else to say they lapsed into a comfortable stillness until another figure slid into the booth and rested her head on the table. Seung sighed and gently pat her head.
"I'm so sad. Takumi will never love me. Is it because I'm dead?”
“I think it may be because he doesn’t know you.” Before he could say anything else though the other half of the rent came walking in and sat down next to him. "I didn't think tonight was one of gathering nights."
“You left me on read.”
Alucio pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Minako with a soft sigh. Seung would have been touched had his roommate not ruined the moment by drinking his sake without even so much as asking. If that was how he wished to be then so be it.
“Indirect kiss,” his voice was monotone and without thinking he made a heart with his thumb and index finger. Hopefully he wouldn’t spit it out.

Just in case however he made a move to call the bartender over, only to notice the man had appeared seemingly out of no where. Minako ordered her drink and when she nervously responded, “I love—to sleep,” she looked helplessly at the three men — most likely asking for death. Seung had no idea how to handle the situation and so promptly kept his gaze lowered and forgot to order another drink. He as well needed sleep after dealing with his friends.

The bartender then named the price of her beverage, and had to almost pry the card out of her hands. Minutes later the man returned bringing with him her vodka and money. She downed her drink as if it were water and tried choke back her sobs. It was saddening and Seung was clueless as to what to do.
"Is she... Okay?" he asked.
“I believe so. Thank you,” he took the card from the bartender's hand and waved him off to spare Minako some humiliation. He was her friend after all.
“You don't even remember my name.”
“You never gave it to him, if I remember. Right, Haku?”
Before their discussion could escalate however a man came to their table with a bright smile. Seung didn’t trust him, but nonetheless listened to whatever he had to say.
“What can I get you all to drink today?” a frown appeared on Seung’s face, cautious of his overly happy disposition. “Ah, it’s already been paid for.” He should have started with that line.

That got Seung’s attention and so promptly he ordered a drink he had been eyeing all night long, “I’ll have a bourbon then.” He didn’t ask who had been generous enough to pay for their drinks, the attendant's attention already having moved on, and so looked at his friends expectantly. After all, they should thank the person who had essentially saved them rent money. Mortals could be so nice at times.

( • • • )

It had occurred to Areum multiple times before that although it wouldn’t be hard to imagine a life without Cassius, she deeply resented the thought of it. Perhaps her mornings would be a little less bright, and the sound of her soul would sing more loudly, but in comparison to who she was intrinsically — nothing would change. And yet, even the mere thought of separation brought a dull ache to her heart she thought would have faded with time.

As another attendant passed by Areum plucked a glass of champagne off their tray and shifted her gaze from the man in yellow to her new drink. She furrowed her eyebrows in dissatisfaction as she finally took notice of its taste. It was much too sweet and left a tangy flavor in her mouth, not even vodka could smother its presence.

While in deep thought, Areum had been deaf to whatever pretty but meaningless compliments Cassius was most likely gushing. It was only when the pitch of his voice lowered that her attention was finally on him once more. "I believe you've yet to meet. This is Areum, though I doubt a woman like herself requires an introduction."

She raised an eyebrow and finally lowered her drink. Before her stood the man she had been glaring at previously, and with a new perspective, she smiled.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you —” she gave a quick sideways glance to Cassius, “Basil. A friend of Kaede’s is a friend of mine, and so I hope we’ll see more of each other in the future.” Without warning she stepped closer to the man and stared at his face in concentration. She noted his thick eyebrows that framed doelike eyes and the way his pout was wide but very pretty. He was an eccentric kind of attractive, and it made her want to stare at him all the more curiously. “Should you ever wish to model for my magazine feel free to contact me. I’m sure we can have something arranged.” Slowly she backed away and focused her gaze on Kaede instead. It was unspoken that she would be the photographer, and for Areum that would only be an added bonus should he accept.

"Excuse me,” Cassius interrupted and before she could get a word out the man was gone. Areum rolled her eyes but in doing so caught sight of the event unfurling that Cassius must have seen as well. In her mind, she praised her friend for taking a swift course of action and let him deal with it himself; however, it was the familiar face of the woman sitting at the bar that made Areum move to help.
“Forgive me, I’ll be back in a moment,” walking with purpose she quickly slid between the patrons who still hadn’t noticed the debacle and kept dancing. They were either too drunk to notice or too self-absorbed to care.
Silently, Areum sat down next to Shiori just as the bartender supplied her with another drink. She tapped the counter to order the same beverage as well and placed her empty champagne glass on her right side for someone to clean up.
“I saw what you did, and I’m very grateful but —” she turned to look the officer straight in the eye, “—why didn’t you arrest him?”

The bartender finally finished creating her drink and placed it in front of her hands. Idly she traced her ring finger along the rim of the glass and awaited her response. She had the authority to act, so why didn’t she? Was it the fear of repercussions, or an inability to serve due to being off the clock? Her thoughts was cut short however by the sight of men storming away from where Cassius stood watching. Areum recognized them for who they were and in a quick act of vindictiveness dumped the contents of her drink onto their passing forms.

There was no logical reason for what she did, and like most things Areum didn't think of the consequences, but the feeling of revenge was too good to pass up. She let out a small condensing smile and a quiet laugh. The apparent leader snarled and made his way to Areum to which she gave a disinterested sigh, “Perhaps I should call Mr. Dōriēwes over.” A pointed look to her friend had the men freeze before backing away slowly. A grin spread across her face.

When the men left and all that remained was a stillness, Cassius' strong voice echoed in the silence and promised the patrons a round of free cocktails. Applause and laughter filled the room bringing life back to the party, and with a weary grimace Areum focused her attention back to Shiori.

“I have someone I’d like you to meet,” without warning Areum took the girl’s wrist and lightly tugged at her to follow. She cut through the center with ease, her disposition not allowing for any jostling, and finally made way to where she left Kaede and Basil. She needed Cassius’ opinion on the girl, and more than anyone she knew, he understood her needs the best.

XXXJust as she was raising the glass to her lips, Shiori caught sight of a familiar face, and her brows softened. She could never decide exactly how she felt about Areum- the fox girl that didn't know Shiori knew she was a fox girl and certainly didn't seem to mind expressing her remarkable oddness. She was flirtatious and daring, not that Shiori was especially adept at picking up the former, and had taken to overdramatising the robbery debacle that Shiori had helped her sort out. Shiori liked her, there was no doubt about that.

XXXBut god, what a damn cipher.

XXX"“I saw what you did, and I’m very grateful but why didn’t you arrest him?” Shiori looked down at her glass for a moment, a jab of frustration in her gut. Trust me, I would have given anything to cuff that asshole then and there...

XXXHer thoughts translated through her expression, but she did not vocalize them. Instead, she gestured to her glass, prompting another drink. "I could have, but he would be back out again in an hour, tops." She resisted downing her second drink, instead taking a large sip before explaining in an defeated, matter-of-fact tone. "She didn't drink it, and he didn't assault her, so technically, he didn't do anything wrong. He just thought about doing something- and I can't prove that because he tipped the evidence all over the damn flo-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, for the woman with whom she was speaking suddenly turned and sprayed the contents of her glass over a group of well-dressed gentleme-

XXXAreum, I think I love you.

XXXIt took a brief moment to recognise the group, although their leader took significantly less time to note: it was her latest foe, and the young man looked at Areum with a contemptuous look before noting Shiori by her side. He flexed his jaw, forcefully shrugging of the embarrassment. Raking an angry hand through his dampened locks, he shot Shiori a final, warning glare before leading his friends out of the club.

XXX"Thank you for tha-"

XXX“I have someone I’d like you to meet,”

XXX"Wha-" Without warning, Areum grabbed onto Shiori's wrist, and the latter sheepishly followed the woman through the sea of colour that now seemed to be celebrating the wonder of 'free cocktails'.

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A night like this should never be squandered; the beams of light race across the sky outside the window of her shop and the thought of closing early becomes the current decision. It's not like she's busy; though Wicks is the collective effort of her parents' financial support and her own need for a purpose, it doesn't exactly pay the bills. However, she's fortunate enough for a healthy bank account because of the seven semesters she decided to spend in Tokyo instead of in school.

School. School reminded her of Morgan, and how his beautiful blonde hair would look on her warm brown skin all rolled into a healthy baby boy. It reminded her of the worst moment of her life, sitting in the OB/GYN with her soon-to-be husband and a doctor staring her right in the face to tell her that she'd never have her child. Paola could already feel her face heating up and tears pricking at her eyes, even now. Three years and she can't fathom how to forget them. To appease the dull ache in her chest, she decides to get some fresh air. Paola restocks some of the more popular candles- vanilla and Japanese cherry blossom -and turns off her fairy lights roped around the shop before exiting and locking the front door. The wind slaps across her face but the cool air is refreshing. Refreshing quickly turns to biting and Paola pulls her thick knit cardigan closer to her body.

The city lights are usually too bright but the meteor shower is almost blinding. She thought about going to the park but with the chilly weather, all she wants to do is light some candles and take a bath. The cold air whips against her legs and the main thing she's thankful for is living above her own shop. Hurrying inside, she immediately turns up her heater and stands to look out the window. The culinary school is illuminated with late-working students; she remembers a time when that would have been her friend Basil, slaving away over a project he slept through in class. He's one of the few friends she's made in Tokyo, after slamming into one another when he was rushing to class, and a week later he was buying a candle for a date and they ended up going to dinner together instead. "You just have a look, I adore it! Want to have dinner?" Even still, the only friend she's made other than Basil is Seung, and that's only because she knocked a guy out for stealing Seung's wallet. Now they occasionally make trips to the museum and the park just to chat.

With a long sigh, she draws from the window and toward her bathroom, where her dainty pink bathroom was calling her for a steaming hot bath, fragrances with special oils giving off a warm, smoky scent. She decides to light the candles around the bath, adding to the aroma and allowing her to slip into the bath with ease. The slightly golden bath exhales around her, and the silence reminds her that she's completely alone.

Being alone doesn't always mean being lonely, but for Paola, it's an excuse to be. Her thoughts pervade through her attempts to relax. Paola misses her friends from home, and Ray and Stella. She misses being loved by someone, though she can always find that here- but it's not being loved by just anyone, but the one meant for her. She realizes now that it wasn't Morgan, though with their boy, she could have made it work. Could she?

The next sigh that expels from her mouth blows out the candle beside her. It doesn't change the light much, so she sets it aside on the table and relaxes into the bath, closing her eyes.

xxxIt made no difference how many times reaper Seung reminded Haku that they did not choose who died, merely followed the cards assigned to them. The guardian still maintained the prejudice that their mere presence must not be lucky for any mortals in the vicinity. Yet, as Seung reminded him of the fact, the guardian merely nodded solemnly in response rather than argue. Best not to upset a grim reaper after all.

xxxA moment of comfortable peace passed between reaper and guardian instead, the sounds of the bar’s other occupants and the steady beat of vehicles rumbling down the road outside soothing after a day of work. Haku sipped on his water, wishing once again that he could afford anything more than the free drink. A despondent sigh escaped the angel, his shoulders slumping slightly as his gaze left the sad glass of water. His lips parted, words collecting on his tongue, before a small figure joined the quiet pair with a thump and a sorrowful exclamation.

xxxKohaku knew Minako’s moods well, and was well acquainted with her inclination to find love in the smallest, most meaningless of gestures. A passing stranger might smile at her, and the diminutive guardian angel would assure Haku that she was in love. She felt too strongly, opening herself up for disappointment whenever a fresh sweetheart failed to return her newly developed devotion. On more than one occasion in their decades of friendship, Haku had found himself comforting his fellow angel, offering a quiet shoulder to cry on as he patiently waited for her to right herself.

xxxAt least now Haku had the support of his neighbour. No two neighbours, he corrected himself as Alucio joined the quiet table. Kohaku returned Alucio’s greeting, raising his hand vertical and giving a short wave before letting his fingers wrap around the glass of water and pulling it closer. He should have asked for a straw. He watched as Alucio offered the distraught guardian his handkerchief, and Kohaku suddenly had the sinking feeling that he’d be spending the next week hearing Minako waxing poetic about Alucio’s generosity. The male guardian bit back a sigh and returned his attention to the glass of water.

xxxThoughts of sinking into a hot bubble bath distracted Kohaku from the chatter of the table, his mind already swimming with sweet scented candles and luxurious bath salts. Bath bombs were his guilty pleasure, the rare item he allowed himself to splurge on. Not that he did so very often. He would use a candle right down to the stub, and lay in a bath until all the bubbles were gone and the heat had completely vanished. Anything to make the most of his spent money.

xxxOnly the sound of his name draws Haku away from his mental bubble bath, and he gazes up to stare blankly a Seung. Having missed the earlier conversation, Kohaku merely nods and agrees uncertainly, “Right.”

xxxThen a worker is at their table, and Haku’s lips quirk into the first almost-smile of the day. A free beverage? What luck is this? With a quick nod, Haku picks up the menu hastily and skims down the list of cocktails, wines, and other assorted alcoholic drinks. He’s half scared that if he takes too long, the offer will disappear. Yet, as soon as he finds something he likes, he glances up and finds the bartender waiting patiently for the order.

xxx “I’d like sex on the beach, please.” Kohaku informs him, ignorant to how such a phrase could be turned around in any other situation. Yet, the barkeep’s face does not break into a mocking smile at the cocktail, but a regretful frown.

xxx “I’m sorry sir, but that drink was discontinued last week. You must have an old menu.”

xxxHaku is handed another menu, his disappointment and resignation clear by the set of his shoulders and gloomy mask. Nevertheless, he selects another drink – a respectable beer – and hands the menu back with another sigh. It’s only then that he notices the man sitting at the bar. He can sense the man’s emotions, the connection slightly sluggish thanks to the few shots of Sake he’s already consumed. The bartender follows Kohaku’s gaze and gives a happy nod,

xxx “Yes, the American has kindly bought the whole bar a round.” He informed the table, nodding towards the figure of Ryan Prosker.

xxxHaku nods absently before his elbow shifts, prodding into Minako as he drew his eyes away from his charge. “I’m going to talk with my charge. If you’re capable of sitting straight and tearing your gaze from the table, I would appreciate any advice you could give me on him.” Haku mumbled, before a gaze at the men in black sitting opposite them made him add in a quieter voice, “And make sure the reapers don’t kill my charge.”

xxxWith a nod to said reapers, and a promise that he would be right back, the guardian angel slid from his chair and gained his feet. He felt almost naked without a glamour on, but knew that it would be redundant to leave the bar only to come back wearing the image of another person. He may as well wear his own face. Subconsciously, Haku tugged on the lobe of his almost-too-big ear and set off, dipping around tables empty and occupied as he made for the counter.

xxxHe didn’t entirely have a plan, but knew that talking with his charges would only help in his mission to enable them to meet their great fate. So, he took the seat next to the American and drew a rare smile onto his face as he faced Ryan. His lips were unaccustomed to such a position, and the smile quickly fell into a more neutral position as he addressed the man seated beside him.

xxx “Hello, do you speak Japanese?” Kohaku asked in his native tongue, before switching to his less-fluent English, “Or should I thank you in English?”

xxxMovement to his right momentarily drew Haku’s attention away, and he was rewarded with the sight of the bar tender sliding a cool beer into the guardian’s waiting palm. With a nod of thanks to the worker, Kohaku turned towards Ryan once more, his beer held out towards the American – an age-old, wordless invitation to clack their drinks together and ‘cheers’.

xxx “To what are you celebrating?” Kohaku continued, his tongue feeling uncoordinated as it pronounced the English words.

xxxMarlon’s feet came to an abrupt halt as a flash of orange cloth pulled his attention up. With a yelp, he jumped back against the railing, skinny elbows smacking against the iron balustrades hard. The mortal’s gaze flicked up, taking in the towering figure as Marlon’s mouth opened in surprise. Part of his brain was trying to figure out where the man had come from, for only one door led onto the balcony and Marlon was sure he hadn’t heard it open behind him. Of course, the larger portion of his brain was dedicated towards inspecting the strange figure before him.

xxxThe man was tall and incredibly striking in what Marlon assumed were monk robes. Yet, what really drew the teenage boy’s gaze was the well-defined muscle of the stranger’s chest and abdomen. Even in his shock, Marlon’s eyes took a moment to memorise the way taut skin pulled over perfectly formed abs. It was, certainly, a much more enjoyable sight than the thing that jutted out from the man’s neck. A knife marred the man’s aesthetic, protruding violently from his neck. A gold-leaf snake slid around the hilt of the weapon, while most of the blade itself was buried in the man’s skin.

xxxMarlon quickly cast his eyes back down to the comforting sight of the man’s abs, wondering if this was just another odd being that the general populace couldn’t see. Like those who wondered the streets in all black, slipping around mortals invisibly, or the individuals who wore two images and sometimes sprouted wings. Or perhaps he was merely an actor, dressed for a play in which he played a handsome monk who was stabbed to death. Regardless, when Marlon’s lips parted, it was not to ask why the monk had a knife in his neck, but to instead inquire,

xxx “How did you get onto the balcony?” The English was rushed, and Marlon immediately began to translate the sentence into Japanese, though using simpler words, “How did you get here?”

xxxJiangyu did not know what entirely to make out of the current predicament. Whatever color remained in the pale-skinned youth's face had leached down to intensify his trembling physique.

xxxThe lilt of his voice was the same that called Jiangyu out of his sedentary reflection with its earnest deliverance. It was immediately clear that the youth had summoned him, yet his cowering form implied otherwise.

xxxUpon hearing the inquiry, Jiangyu turned the question back on it's owner, fumbling over the Japanese characters with as much difficulty as the youth, "I could ask the same of you, sir. All I can determine is that I have appeared here by your directive. Whereas before I was in deep meditation, I heard the sounds of your pining words and I stand before you now. It's owing to the intricacies of karma that we should meet by such strange circum--"

xxxJiangyu had not been looking directly at the boy as he spoke, rather his eyes filled with the glittering city lights he saw below. As he drew his statement to a close his gaze wandered back to the youth, whose attention likewise seemed riveted elsewhere. Instead of attempting to read the man in front of him through the emotional imprints cast in the contours of his face, the youth's scrutiny was rather aimed at the contours of Jiangyu's...lower... abdomen...

xxxAs a Buddhist, Jiangyu had learned to live a conservative, plain existence. All human possessions are a furtherance of materialism; an outcome that nature had never intended. Even wearing the robes of the Shaolin monks was symbolic of living in austerity of nature; the purest form of living. But the way the youth looked at him now, eyes content on the beads of sweat still dripping down his body, was unnerving. Jiangyu found himself willing to defy his principles if he could cover up his entire body from those prying eyes.

xxxBefore he would continue any further, he said, "Please sir, can you refrain from looking at me so? In my culture that is what they call the 'evil eye' and I need no more misfortune in my life"

xxxIt appeared, despite the initial Cantonese verbalised by the monk, that he knew Japanese too, for he began to answer Marlon’s question in the same language. Yet, Marlon found his brows knitting together in concentration as he attempted to translate all the words. Some, the harder. rarer words, were beyond the boy, but he was able to understand the general idea regardless of the gaps in his comprehension. Marlon understood enough to translate and grasp the admonishment, his eyes quickly flicking up from the monk’s abdomen to meet his gaze as a faint tinge of pink coloured his cheeks. Normally, some quick barb would be thrown right back. Something relating to the impossibility of not looking when the man’s abs were so clearly on display. Yet, Marlon found himself slightly unnerved by the sight of the knife in the man’s neck – which he was resolutely avoiding inspecting.

xxxInstead, he wet his lips and addressed the man’s earlier point, “I didn’t call you here.” Marlon assured the man, his hand sliding down to tap the cell phone in his jean pocket. He had felt it buzz moments before, indicating a text message. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t have your number, so…”

xxxPart of Marlon’s mind drew up memories of speaking with a friendly Japanese police officer who shared Marlon’s ability to see the black clothed individuals and fox-tailed few. Yet, she had also spoken of conversing with ghosts, a skill that Marlon had never held. He wouldn’t have believed her had he not spent his life able to see the oddities that walked invisible throughout the world. Could this man be a ghost? The only way to find out was to ask.

xxx “Are you dead?” He asked bluntly, gaze flickering from the man’s face, down to the knife impaling him, and back to those steady eyes.

xxxAlthough the youth's focus now returned to the conversation instead of morbidly engrossed on his body, Jiangyu still shivered with the gust of frigid air that followed and that lay his skin afrost. His scant apparel did little to shield him from the wind, but he continued to fasten the coarse cloth tighter around himself.

xxxDespite the abruptness of his departure from the refuge of the monastery walls, Jiangyu remained indolent to the affair. Peg it to his lassitude to the transience of the universe, but his demeanor revealed no signs of distress. Jiangyu had long ago acknowledged that to grow jaded with your condition was to inevitably invite pain and sorrow in the future. Renouncing attachment and notions of hope imposed the necessity for adaptation to whatever the universe may send his way. Jiangyu knew that everything happened for a reason... even being teleported to company of some cowardly boy.

xxxAll forms of pleasantry had escaped the boy's address and Jiangyu could read that of the numerous thoughts flitting through his head, only the irrelevelant, disconnected ones were expressed. "Our connection was not made by some physical device, it was a spiritual connection, don't you understand?", Jiangyu remarked in a soothing tone. In response to his inquiry, "Though at points I have doubted whether my soul had deviated to the depths of the Netherrealm, I do declare before you now that I am indeed living, breathing, sentient flesh. Why do you ask?"

xxxMarlon shook his head, playing his lip between his teeth as he fought valiantly to keep his hazel eyes off the offending knife stuck in the man’s neck. He didn’t really understand what was going on; who this man was, where he’d come from, and why he spoke like Gandhi – if Gandhi spoke Japanese and had abs like-… No, forget the abs. He’s not allowed to look at the abs.

xxxClearing his throat Marlon finally speaks, “So you I think I called you here by some ‘spiritual connection’?” Marlon made quote marks with his fingers as he spoke, clearly sceptical about some so called mystical bond. Perhaps this guy was actually insane? Or maybe Marlon had gone crazy after too long practising the same piece. Rather than contemplate his own sanity, Marlon continued quickly, “Look, I didn’t call you, and I have to finish my practice so… Do you need me to show you out?” Marlon’s hand waved vaguely behind the monk towards the door, despite the fact that clearly it should have been the door the monk entered through as it was the only one to the balcony.

xxxMarlon’s hand fell to his side as he left the statement hanging, fingers brushing against his cell phone in his pocket and wondering if he could get away with taking a quick picture of the stranger. Would he even appear in a picture? Marlon had tried it once, years ago, with one of the beings who had multiple appearances only to find that only one image was captured. Now, he wanted proof of this bizarre conversation so that he could share it was Wyatt.

xxxThe generational (historical?) gap between the two was sluggishly tangible, both socially and technologically. The youth could not seem to adhere to the idea that there were greater forces at work than chance that would bring them together. Besides, the more they lumbered to and fro in this excruciatingly awkward waltz, the more the boy appeared intent on bee-lining for the door in a frenzy. That was not an option.

xxxAlthough Jiangyu had the ability for years to traverse expanses far removed from his homeland, he remained transfixed to his roots. He need only step through door and be transported to the regal Mount Kōya range in Japan or perhaps coalesce a true syndicate with the heavens in the isolation of the Himalayas. Yet, bar the visits he had made to abide his duties to the monastery, he always found his footsteps returning back home. That was until now. For far too long he had been entangled in affairs of his mind and finally here was an egress to direct his energy to the outside world instead of one of his own creation.

xxxStirred awake by the boy prepping his speech, Jiangyu knew his own answer before the question was even finished. I see your attempt to dissuade me, but I am far more disposed to carry out what has been preordained. I shall follow you along as you continue your day and see where it takes me.”. His composure shifted in accedence but as his eyes lifted to meet the youth’s, he realized the negligence of his statement.

xxx “Forgive me for it seems that in the confusion of the moment there has been a lapse in my character,” he said coyly. “My name is Jiangyu Bai and I am a practicing Shaolin monk, hence this;” he pointed to his clothes. What would I have the honor of calling you, young man?”

xxxMarlon pursed his lips, hesitation clear on his face as he considered the man- Jiangyu’s words. His initial thought was to refuse Jiangyu’s desire to follow Marlon as he continued with his day, not wishing to have a six foot something stranger in monk’s robes following him around modern day Tokyo. Yet just as a refusal was on the tip of his tongue, he paused and reconsidered. Surely, bringing the living, breathing curiosity with him would prove to Wyatt just how bizarre his night had turned. It would be much better proof than a photo possibly could be. It would also enable Marlon to ascertain whether Jiangyu were another figure only visible to him, or a solid, breathing person capable of interacting with others.

xxxSo, after a weighty silence, Marlon nodded slowly and returned the introduction, “You can call me Marlon. Marlon Page.” He replied, digging his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. “And if you’re going to follow me, just…” Marlon paused again, unsure how to tell a Shaolin monk with a knife in his neck to ‘be cool’. Clearing his throat, Marlon merely waved his hand and, skirting around the monk slightly, headed towards the door. “..come on.”

xxxSwiping across his cell phone screen, Marlon opened the text message he’d received and smiled at Wyatt’s invitation. Normally, Marlon would suggest visiting some bar that was barely within Wyatt’s comfort zone, but with a Shaolin monk in tow, he decided on a less risque route.

xxxTo Wyatt,
xxxxxxMeet me at the Chocolate Café on the corner by our apartment… I’ve got a surprise for you.

xxxWith another glance over his shoulder to make sure he was being followed, Marlon stepped back inside and began to collect his things, already picturing how Wyatt might react to Marlon’s ‘surprise’. The blonde boy wouldn’t have long to wait, for it was only a short journey to the café mentioned in his text. Of course, the normally simple trip was made slightly more extraneous in the company of a shirtless monk. When they made it to the café Marlon smirked at the way the waitress’ gaze roamed down Jiangyu’s chest before returned to his face with a blush before she ushered them to a booth at the back of the cafe. At least that answered Marlon’s question about whether he alone could see the monk. Now he had only to wait for Wyatt’s reaction.

Cass was a devil in disguise. Or perhaps he’d never bothered to disguise himself at all. The tailored suit was very nice and all, but it’d always reeked of danger. Case in point, he stepped forward, pushing into her personal space as easily and gracefully as he might step over a puddle on the sidewalk. As always, the practiced nature of his predatory movements unsettled her, knocked her off her sturdy foundation. Damn. He hadn’t even given her the chance to answer his exceedingly arrogant claim before stunning her silent. His fingers reached out, languid in their elegant motion, and the skin at her collarbone where his knuckles brushed their feather touch burned with the kind of iciness that felt more like fire. For a moment, her breath hitched, ribcage refusing to expand, lungs frozen in time. She stared, wide-eyed, into his aqueous gaze, held by some mysterious force. Then, he smiled, the white of his teeth almost blinding, and her brain function returned to her. She lifted her chin in defiance, fighting against his practically supernatural allure. Her throat felt dry, fingertips numbed, and she mentally cursed Cass all the way to Hell. He deserved it.

”Oh, you’d do well, I’m sure,” she answered, once her vocal chords began to work again, with a suggestive quirk of her lips, the lift of one eyebrow. ”You’d definitely make friends fast.”

A voice like a song saved her, potentially, from any more harassment from her infuriating employer, who’d clearly never learned the definition of personal boundaries. Kaede turned her head and caught sight of what may have been the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen in her short life. Areum’s flattery didn’t even seem to register as Kaede admired the visage of the graceful woman, who was arguably more beautiful when she walked than when ballet dancers pirouetted their way through a number. If her beauty enhanced the night, then Areum’s beauty could very well have superseded it. Kaede cast a glance towards the sky, where the stars continued to be thrown from their place in the heavens. It was a close race.

Kaede couldn't help but laugh at Areum's proposition, recalling the first time they'd met. Impressed, presumably, by her skill with a camera—or maybe just on a mission to annoy Cass— Areum had offered Kaede a position with her, with just a small salary bump to boot. She'd all but clawed her way towards Areum while Cass held her back by the collar. She'd remained under his employ. Tragically.

"Who isn't tired of Cassius?" she said, still laughing. "I'd switch over in an instant if working with someone as stunning as you didn't seem like such a bad idea." A dangerous idea. In some ways, Kaede thought Areum was more dangerous even than Cass—talking to her felt like waltzing with Death. Caught between a waiting bullet and a waiting blade, Kaede was really beginning to miss Basil's much more human, grounded presence.

And then there he was, as if by magic. God, she loved him. Areum called her attention to him first, then Cass followed with his typical Casanova commentary. She shot a glare at him before Basil approached, silently warning him to stay very far away from her friend. He was too good to fall into Cass' wicked claws, as she'd witnessed so many innocents do. He cast a wide net after all, juggled romance and sex like he'd been a clown in his past life.

"Hi!" she called to him once he came near, a bright grin planted on her face. She pulled him in for a hug, careful to avoid having his drink splash on her dress. Quickly, in her drawled English, she spoke lowly in his ear, "Be careful of these wolves." She was not sure exactly what carnivorous beasts the two people behind her reminded her of. Was it wolves? Panthers? Foxes? Did it matter?

She let Cass and Areum make their introductions, nabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter while they handled the pleasantries. She'd hardly had the chance to take more than a sip when a commotion somewhere on the center of the floor pulled Cass away. Areum followed shortly after, and Kaede set the champagne down, balancing it precariously on the thin rail of the bannister, as she attempted to piece together the chain of events. It didn't take long.

Her upper lip curled unconsciously into a snarl as the knowledge of what had just transpired hit her; anger simmered somewhere in her belly, sending the flush of rage all the way to her fingertips, no doubt reddening her cheeks. She didn't just want that scum kicked out; she wanted him to burn. Even Cass had his limits, she supposed.

A glance in the direction of Areum told her she was occupied, clearly engaged in conversation with a frustrated looking woman. Grabbing Basil by the wrist, she tugged him—perhaps with a little more force than was strictly necessary—towards the center of the floor, where Cass still stood triumphantly, calling a victory cry of free drinks. Halfway there, Areum caught her eye again. No longer speaking to the woman from before, she appeared to be in some form of confrontation with a gaggle of very angry looking men. And...oh. Yes, they looked very familiar indeed. With precise motions that spoke of years of experience, Kaede lifted the camera, pressed her eye against the viewfinder. She zoomed in as far as she could without sacrificing too much quality and took several shots, timing them with the flashing of the brightest of the lights. There. She felt almost giddy as she checked the images. Horrific. Kaede felt like a god, as though she'd peeled away the facade their flesh allowed them, exposed the vile creatures for what they were—little more than monsters. Those pictures would find themselves plastered all over the internet come the morning, along with a very strongly worded blog post from her, though she knew the pictures would certainly have the most lasting impact. People and media never let those in the public eye live down their most humiliating moments, and all she was capable of doing was playing into that.

Weaving their way once more through the throng of people, Kaede dragged Basil along until they were at Cass' side. She nudged his arm with her shoulder to grab his attention, a proud smile marking a stark departure from her earlier sour expression. Her small vengeance had made her feel a little less useless, less hopeless.

"My hero," she said, with only a moderately mocking lilt. "A regular Robin Hood. Wait." She pursed her lips, acting a dramatic pause for thought. "No, that's not right. You'd have to be poor for that. And also a good person. Momotarō?" She took another brief pause, shook her head sadly. With a glance in Basil's direction and a shrug, she added, "I'm open to suggestions."

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The heartbeat of the club thumped against his chest and as always, he forgot why he didn't spend every waking moment partying. The low thrum of the bass from electric beats oozing sex into the vibrating crowd. Club goers clawing and thrashing again each other, sweating into the night just to make sure they had good stories in the moment. The atmosphere of it equally set him on edge and set him free, it was exhilarating! Even more so as he heard Kaede call him over and noticed her wide grin above the rest of the passers-by.

"Basil," A velveteen Italian voice broke through the utter chaos of the club and streamlined Basil's attention to Kaede's boss, a man exclusively known to Basil as Cassius. As Basil moved forward -a feat that seemed to occur because of Cassius's beckoning hand rather than his own mobility- he was met by his beloved roomate Kaede, who carefully maneuvered him into a hug, weary of his drink and her camera. He returned her greeting with a simple "hey Kae!" before she pulled him close and whispered "be careful of these wolves," in her thick, twisted accent. He looked back over. at Cassius; beauty comes in all shapes and sizes, but Basil would be hard pressed to find anyone that didn't recognize the beauty that radiated from this man. Basil often witnessed the utter frustration his roommate felt when a perfectly timed candid developed into anything but the horrid features that often disguised Basil's face when he was to grace that small screen. Even the camera saw it as an injustice to twist Cassius' beauty into the perfect photo for Kaede's blog. His eyes were depths Basil has never seen before, a smile so white and pearly- "the attire suits you-or perhaps it's my club." Cassius smiled, and Basil couldn't imagine being anymore aware of his appearance at that moment, "you should come more often."

Basil would definitely make a point to "support his roommate's profession" much more often, if it meant being in the company of Cassius. Basil let a smirk grace his features, taking a sip of his drink to calm the shaking that would surely encapsulate his voice. "If you insist, I'll certainly make more appearances." Basil's deep voice mingled with the dip of the music's beat and if he hadn't pulled closer to the small group, he doubts they would have heard him. Cassius' gaze turned to the stunning woman beside him, and once again Basil's breath hitched. How did Kaede get so lucky as to be surrounded by such beautiful people?

The woman is stunning, a raven-haired figure with eyes so alluring he didn't know how to look away. "I believe you've yet to meet. This is Areum, though I doubt a woman like herself requires an introduction." And right he was. He suddenly felt so... small? Like the mouse unaware that he's scampered into the mouth of a snake. This was a feeling he wasn't entirely uncomfortable with yet strangely wanted at the same time.

The woman took notice of him at this moment, and he felt like he should shield himself but did know how. "It's a pleasure to meet you-" She sends her glance to Cass for approval, instead of confirming with Basil, "-Basil. A friend of Kaede is a friend of mine, and so I hope we'll see more of each other in the future."

Suddenly, the woman stepped into his personal space, examining every feature on his face. It seemed an unbearably long time to have someone stare at his face, but she pulled back, her concentration not swaying from Basil even as she spoke. "Should you ever wish to model for my magazine, feel free to contact me. I'm sure we can have something arranged." Before he could speak, and probably embarrass himself with the utter excitement and praise that would spill from his lips haphazardly, a commotion exploded in the middle of the club and Cass and Areum were gone within seconds. Kaede grabbed him by the wrist and they too gravitated to the center of the club, though Basil was not moving of his own accord.

He stood right by Kaede but he mind was far away. Modelling? It's something he's wanted to do for most of his life, and Areum entertained the thought so casually, without him even mentioning it; usually he would send headshot after headshot without any reply. He would definitely need to come around more, especially if Cass could introduce him to people who so casuall offer him modelling deals.

"-I'm open to suggestions."

Basil zoning out moment, dreaming of all the pairs of gucci sunglasses he could buy, turns to Kaede. "Uh... what are we talking about?"

xxxYears had passed and street facades had changed, yet still Luciana de Silva somehow found her way to the welcoming gates of a local temple. Though it was all but empty now, devoid of patrons since the settling of the sun, there was always a friendly peace to it. The traditional buildings and carefully maintained gardens were beautiful, simply stunning, and Lucia paused on the threshold as a wave of calmness overtook her. Nostalgia was a constant companion of the immortal, who moved through life a constant amongst the ever-shifting variations. She felt it now, as memories of traveling through these lands for the first time over a century ago rose to the forefront of her mind.

xxxLuciana’s hand came up to trace over the bright poster inviting city residents to the temple’s festival being held the following day. Cherry blossoms printed on the sheet paled in comparison to the blooms which bathed the temple in a soft, ethereal glow. In the spring sunlight the Goblin knew the trees would look even more beautiful. Luciana smiled, perhaps she would attend. Visiting her few friends in the prefecture wouldn’t take all day, and she could easily be able to fit in a walk through the celebrations.

xxxNight time was not ideal for temple visits however, and so Lucia turned and set her feet towards the vibrant heart of the city. Her heels clacked sharply on the pavement, hair bouncing in soft curls down her back with each step. Her legs were swathed in faux leather trousers, a fitted blouse and styled coat hugged her torso. Though once she would have been restricted by heavy skirts and demure head coverings, now Lucia wore modern clothing that reeked of the latest season catwalks. The goblin would never claim to be a fashionista, or a trend-setter, but money afforded her the highest quality of materials and often those came from the top brands.

xxxAs she passed through streets, both quiet and crowded, Lucia saw signs of the progress and technology that had altered the world. She idly thought of what her parents might have thought, had they been pushed into such a world as the present without having witnessed the shift of time over the centuries. A smile of amusement lightened Lucia's face at the thought. Her parents had been traditional even back in the 12th century, they would never have been able to accept this modern world. The goblin shook off thoughts of her parents, as the gloomy notions of relations long deceased would inevitably bring her back to memories of the men who betrayed and doomed her. She didn't need their memories disturbing her otherwise enjoyable night.

xxxThe sounds of club music filtered out onto the street ahead and Lucia’s gaze turned upwards to the building which stood ablaze in light. The penthouse specifically was aglow, a beacon for those seeking out a glimpse of the nightlife Shinjuku had to offer. Eager clubbers lined beneath, waiting for entry into the exclusive event. A commotion at the door caught the Goblin’s attention, her calm eyes falling to inspect the group of affluent young men being evicted. They wore arrogance like an essential layer, though one was also shrugging into a designer blazer to hide the soiled shirt that cling to his frame. Obviously, some disturbance in the club had resulted in the premature end to their night.

xxxLuciana’s gaze remained on the men as they shouted a few angry phrases to the bouncers, before picking up what remained of their dignity and strutting away. The anger and misplaced sense of being wronged seemed to storm around them, and Lucia would have bet the value of the jewels chained around her neck that they were not used to being denied. The group barely seemed to consider Lucia as they brushed past, but one – the leader with the saturated outfit – bumped into her shoulder as he passed. She turned as he pushed forward, an apology not even considered as his remained entirely focused on his own plight. The goblin’s own mind took up a similar role as unbidden images of the young man’s future flashed before her.

xxxAs scenes of his disgraceful future played, her eyes followed him in the present. Seeing the young man before her, and the one of the future locked behind bars and alienated from his wealthy family. As if feeling the weight of Lucia’s gaze, the man turned momentarily, but either her quiet confidence or his desire to leave the scene of his embarrassment was enough for him to turn back around without a word. Lucia too turned her attention back to the club, clear eyes gazing up towards the balcony where guests and music flooded out into the night air.

▁ ▂ ▃xxxH E Xxxx# 5 E 7 D 7 Exxxxxx ▁ ▂ ▃xxxF A D Exxxxxx▁ ▂ ▃xxxH E Xxxx# B 7 9 B A E

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xxxxxxNone would describe the fox spirit as selfless, not even himself, but there were times when he enacted gestures of altruism that made him appear somewhat decent, if not good. Such was the illusion of Cassius Dōriēwes. He gave the prisoners of his allure some hope of his redemption, the hope that they might be capable of changing his fundamental nature so long as they tried.
xxxxxx"My hero," sang a lovely voice. "A regular Robin Hood. Wait. No, that's not right. You'd have to be poor for that. And also a good person. Momotarō? I'm open to suggestions."
xxxxxx"I've surpassed the constraints of human imagination," responded Cassius. His lips quirked into a small smile, eyes shining with some untold secret. "Though if you must choose a name, I suppose kitsune will do."
xxxxxx"Uh... What are we talking about?" asked the silver-haired man. Cassius lifted his gaze languidly over his form.
xxxxxx"You," he said, already anticipating the roll of Kaede's eyes into the back of her head.
xxxxxxCassius lifted a brow at the girl Areum had ushered into their midst. She was certainly unusual, a form of coarse edges like a diamond only recently pried free from the mines. She was utterly different from her companion, who wore smoke and shadows like a second skin. Areum was honey hovering in space, unfettered by gravitational constraints and the fleetingness of humanity.
xxxxxx"Cassius," he said by way of introduction. He leaned forward without warning, brushing a kiss across the girl's cheek. The taste of champagne lingered on his tongue, mingling with the scent of pine that lingered on his skin whatever the season, its scent barely eclipsed by the luxurious Italian cologne he wore. "A friend of Areum's is a friend of mine, though I do pray you not harm her fragile heart, or I'm afraid I'll have to kill you." He winked.
xxxxxx"Ah, the show is beginning," Cassius mused, his attention vanishing from the threat of death as quickly as the tides pulled shells into the sea. He drifted towards the edge of the balcony, as always assuming others would simply follow. He leaned his arms against the cold railing. His calloused hand—the only rugged facet of an otherwise unmarred body—drifted to his mask, slipping the string that attached it to his face from its knot. The veil fell into his palm, revealing the planes of his face.
xxxxxxThe first firework erupted in the distance, its cacophonous roar punctuated by the ooh's and ahh's of its attentive audience. Yet it was not the kaleidoscopic lights that seized the immortal's attention.
xxxxxxIt was the woman.
xxxxxxThe first burst of light illuminated her hair, cascading in perfect ringlets down her spine. The second revealed her silhouette. The third, her face.
xxxxxxShe was beautiful. After all these years, she was beautiful.
xxxxxxLuciana de Silva was only four levels, a fifty feet jump, and two dozen footsteps away. She was in his hands, eight-hundred and seventy-three years ago, her lips lifting into a smile, her fingers tangling in his hair. He felt his heart shivering in his chest, struggling to escape the arteries that held it in place. He was ready to leap off the balcony, not knowing if he might fall or awaken from this dream or fly.

xxxxxxUncalled for, her gaze was drawn to a figure leaning against the barrier above, lithe fingers pulling off the material shielding his face. Cassius.
xxxxxxHe stood illuminated in the explosions of light, a bright sun amongst the dim flickers of life. He was still beautiful, still heart-wrenchingly striking, radiating that self-assured aura that had initially pulled her in all those years ago.
xxxxxxFor the briefest moment their eyes met, the distance seeming to vanish, and the centuries since their last touch falling away. Memories of blissful happiness, sun-soaked mornings in bed, and stolen kisses in quiet alcoves washed over her. Then, the inevitable crush of his betrayal.
xxxxxxThough Lucia’s face revealed nothing, her heart acted otherwise. This was not the first time she had seen him since her mortal life, a chance moment a century ago revealed the fox to her, yet allowed Lucia to slip away before he could do likewise. She had not spoken with him then, and she didn’t plan on doing so now.
xxxxxxShe turned and left, making her way easily through the enraptured crowd as they gazed up at the fireworks.

xxxxxxCassius did not think. He ran—past the people who stared and stumbled in shock, down the stairs that blurred into an obstacle course desperate to halt his journey, shoving aside the bouncers who stood at the ground entrance to the Apex.
xxxxxx”Lucia!” he called out.

xxxxxxShe did not turn nor stop her retreat, although the sound of her name by his lips brought make more memories of times long passed. Lucia had thought she had buried such thoughts deep within her mind, but they came flooding back now. Her fists clenched and the goblin forced her feet to go faster, turning down a street at random.

xxxxxxCassius hastened his run as Lucia quickened her walk, the throng of people bustling through Tokyo moving obstacles intent on disrupting his journey. He felt as if he were wading through mud-slick streets. He nudged them aside as gently as he could, but he had the unearthly strength of a fox spirit, and the effort it required to suppress his power only slowed him more.
xxxxxxHer waterfall of dark hair was receding, and soon she would be only a shadow. He knew in his mind she had to be a figment of his imagination, or worse, a ghost trapped on the mortal plane, unable to find peace after all these years.
xxxxxxCassius felt a pang of guilt, the bitterness of it so foreign on his tongue he told himself it came from the rumble of cars and their emissions. Or an unpalatable restaurant nearby, but certainly not him.

xxxxxxLucia kept moving, glancing only once over her shoulder to see if she was still being pursued. A glimpse of glittering blue eyes informed the goblin he was still behind her, pushing through crowds of locals and foreigners admiring the painted sky.
xxxxxxAnother street appeared to her left, and Lucia turned without a second thought. It was only slightly less crowded than the previous one, with one side lined by small restaurants that poured out onto the footpaths. A door halfway down swung open, a stream of light falling onto grey concrete as a patron stepped out into the night. Lucia made towards it, her eyes resolutely held forward.

xxxxxxFor a moment, Cassius thought she’d disappeared, as ghosts were known to do. But he found her as she turned the corner, his leather shoes slamming onto the pavement as he chased after her. She stilled, only a dozen metres away now.

xxxxxxA car rattled past, and Lucia paused on the lip of the footpath as she waited for the scooter buzzing after it to move away. Then, she stepped across the road, her heels carrying her across the two laned street in a few steps. The goblin’s hand came up, reaching for the doorknob, her mind already searching for the pull of her Tokyo penthouse. She would step through the restaurant’s door and into the safety of her home.
xxxxxxYet, before her fingers could open the door she risked a glance back. Cass stood on the other side of the street, closer than she’d seen him since her mortal years. He looked warm and familiar, despite the years passed, and Lucia hurt all the more for looking at him.

xxxxxxCassius closed the distance between them, ignoring the angry shouts of cars as his feet devoured the road that divided him from the echo of his past. He reached forward, and startled when he caught her hand.
xxxxxxShe was solid. Smooth. Firm and familiar. He remembered every knuckle of her long, slim fingers, the slight arch of her wrist. She was not a ghost. Or perhaps he was dead.
xxxxxx”Lucia,” he breathed, the syllables unravelling from his tongue like a prayer.

xxxxxxOh, how easily she fell back into her old ways. Cassius’ skin slid against hers, his fingers enveloping Lucia’s hand, and Lucia flashed back to the first time they met when his soft lips had brushed against the top of her hand, his eyes promising delicious mischief and untold secrets as they’d met hers. She should have run then.
xxxxxxWords would not come, only the sound of her heart thudding restlessly in her chest. Even Lucia’s breath had softened, as if stolen by the man who had taken her lives all those years ago. She felt trapped in his gaze, held in place by the sound of her name on his lips.
xxxxxxFinally, on an exhaled gasp, she spoke his name, “Cassius.”

xxxxxxShock held him still, even as the first wicks of blue flame ignited from her skin and painted his flesh red with heat. Cassius barely felt the pain of her touch as his lips parted without knowing what to say.

xxxxxxA voice filled Lucia’s head, speaking from the recesses of her mind like a long-lost friend. The words spoke of loneliness; a desire for companionship. A frown creased Luciana’s brow, her light eyes dropping reluctantly from Cassius’ handsome face to the fire which licked at her skin. She felt a pull towards the voice; irresistible, uncompromising, calling her forth. The fire enveloped her form and Lucia disappeared from the spot as if she were a ghost departing for another plane.

xxxxxxCassius stumbled forward as she vanished from his grasp. He stared, startled, at the welt of angry red skin on his hands—the only sign she’d been there at all.

A blink in time, a burst of energy, and a single beat of her heart. Luciana’s lashes fluttered open as her body found its mark, her hand still outstretched, the remnants of Cassius’ touch still sending shivers across her skin. Slowly, Lucia let her hand fall to her side. The goblin blinked again, her mind sluggishly catching up to where her body had pulled her. Beneath her feet, the dirty concrete of the city street has been replaced with bathroom tiles. Delicate pink assails her sight, the aroma of scented candles, and bath bubbles intoxicate the air. Yet, these are all noted secondary, filled in the back of her mind, for what truly catches Lucia’s attention is the assumedly naked young woman lying prone in the bathtub. Lucia doesn’t recognise her, nor understand what magic or turn of fate pulled her from Cassius. The goblin can’t decide if she’s glad to be away from the fox spirit, or cursing the premature exit.

A frown creases Lucia’s brow and she resolutely pushes thoughts of Cassius to the back of her mind so that she may concentrate on the issue at hand. “Why have you called me?", Lucia’s voice fills the small bathroom easily, the Japanese flowing from her tongue in a clipped, borderline polite tone. The implication of ‘why have you called me now?’ is left off, but hopefully implied by the way her gaze turns to the bubbles and then back to the girl’s face.

Only once before had such a thing happened to her, but that small human had been a child alone in an orphanage, not a woman bathing in the nude. As an after-thought, Lucia adds “How did you call me?”

Paola's eyes were still closed when a loud voice spoke in Japanese. Her eyes shoot open and she's immediately assaulted with a second question and the visual of a extremely attractive woman standing in her bathroom. The woman, much taller in her memories, is the same one with the bright green eyes and thick necklace sharing the same green tones that Paola once thought was her fairy godmother. The last time she saw this woman was her thirteenth birthday, right before Ray and Stella came into her life.

Still, her first reaction is to back as far away from the woman, because- well, she is naked in a bathtub right now. The Japanese takes a moment to translate in her mind, and Paola scoffs indignantly. "How did you get into my bathroom?" Paola counters in messier Japanese, the words still quite strange on her American-oriented tongue. The last thing she wants to do is argue with this strange woman while she's naked in the tub, but getting out is certainly not an option until she leaves. Paola can't help but stare; the woman is achingly beautiful, and hasn't aged any since Paola last saw her. That, combined with Paola's own confusion on how Paola "called" her, leaves her scrambling for the right words. "I don't know, I didn't call you here."

Perhaps her brief run in with Cassius had soured Lucia's mood slightly, or perhaps it was merely the inappropriateness of the situation – standing fully dressed in a stranger’s bathroom while said stranger reclined awkwardly and naked in a bubble bath a step away. Whatever the reason, Lucia didn’t plan on remaining in the pink bathroom for much longer. She wanted to get back to her own home where she might relax uninterrupted and mull over the surprising events of the day.

“In future, it might be better to call me when you’re clothed.” She replied with a swift, polite smile. Lucia’s gaze remained trained on the young woman’s face, and as her initial shock dissipated slightly, Lucia began to wonder if she had met the bathing mortal before. The brows, at the least, were striking. Yet, perhaps now was not the time to contemplate the woman’s appearance. So, with a brief nod, Lucia turned on her heel.

“I’ll be leaving now.” She said over her shoulder, hand moving to the bathroom door in a smooth gesture. It swung open, revealing a small flat, yet Lucia’s focus tuned in on the expansive sprawl of her penthouse apartment and it was to that expensive accommodation that her body was transported as she stepped through the door. The smell of oils and scented candles was replaced with the faint aroma of Lucia’s air freshener, and the goblin took a soothing breath as she took another step into her own apartment.

"I don't know how I called you!"

Paola couldn't have imagined the situation happening in her wildest dreams if she hadn't been witness to it just moments before. The woman spoke of Paola calling her but without a cellphone nearby, she wasn't exactly sure what the strange woman meant. It reminded her of a faint memory, thirteen years old and clinging to a flickering candle, when that same woman appeared mysteriously into her bedroom. She wanted to know more, especially since there was no explanation as to how the woman appeared in the first place. Paola shimmies into a nearby robe when she left, and found that the woman disappeared the moment she stepped out of Paola's door. Strange, she thought, as she searched around the small area that the woman had just taken up space. With a frustrated groan, she replaced the robe with a silken nightgown before blowing out the rest of the candles around the bathroom. All too soon, she found herself not alone once more. She jumped at the suddenness of the woman. "god, could you knock or something?" Paola finally snapped in exasperated English.

A moment of solitude and then the still odd sensation of harmless fire licking at her fingers. One moment Lucia stood in her penthouse, the next she was being pulled back to the small bathroom she had just left. A sigh escaped her lips, her arms folding in front of her chest as the mortal - now thankfully covered in a robe - turned and snapped at Luciana.

“I wouldn't bring the gods into this if I were you." Luciana commented lightly, switching to match the oman's use of English. Luciana pursed her lips slightly as her gaze inspected the mortal woman's face more carefully than she had earlier. A thought occured to her and she titled her head, “We've met before, haven't we?"

The memory came in a surge of recollection. An orphanage, an birthday wish, and a sweet young girl who only wanted to be loved. Luciana offered a small smile at the reminder. “Paola."

Frustration immediately became a much too tiring emotion for Poala to continue with such a strange woman. Thankfully, she didn't have to continue in stilted Japanese, but that didn't do anything for the confusion that was making home in Paola's mind. She crosses her arms across her chest at the woman's statement about the gods. "It's a figure of speech." Paola quips, though the attitude conveyed by her voice and posture immediately drops when the woman starts to study her. She felt all too aware of her body, gangly and awkward compared to the woman in front of her, and sank further into her crossed arms, looking to the floor as her only protection from the gaze settled on her.

We've met before. Paola's eyes snap up, her stare unbridled under her raised eyebrows. Her eyes weren't deceiving her, this was the woman who magically appeared in her orphanage room as well. She'd have to ask about her skin care routine because she doesn't look to have aged- Paola.

She's never heard her name sound like that, soft and sweet and rolled into a smile like it belonged there. Paola's cheeks blossom pink as she's all too sure she's been incredibly rude to the first person who ever actively celebrated her birthday. "Yeah, that's me. We met a while ago.. how'd you find me again? I always wondered how you found me in the first place but I never got the chance to ask, I-" She looks up at the woman, and laughs, bowing her head once more. "I'm rambling, sorry. Do you want, uh, tea or something?"

Though Lucia still did not understand how she had been called by the mortal, now or during the woman's youth, she felt calmer for having recognised her. She remembered her visit to the orphanage, and the heart-wrenching desire flowing from the girl. With the recollection comes another realisation. Then, Paola had wanted something, so perhaps that was why Lucia had been called here now? The words and desires that had flowed into Luciana's mind at the first sign of the flickering fire - as Cass had held her hand - came back to her, loneliness? Perhaps there was some way Lucia could help with that.

For now, however, the goblin merely nodded and stepped out of the way of the thoroughfare, “Tea would be appreciated." Truthfully, after the last hour, Lucia could go for something stronger, but that had best be saved for when she actually knew where she was.

Paola smiled softly, beckoning the older woman towards her tiny kitchen. Setting a kettle on the stove, she leaned against the counter and examined the woman again. She always had a sneaking suspicion that this woman was more than human, not exactly an alien or something from a fantasy book, but just a feeling of otherworldliness that made her seem powerful. But her appearance alone did a lot of that, commanding attention with such a beautiful presence. Before she could stare any longer and further embarrass herself, she turns back to the stove, grabbing tea bags from the cabinet.

"So, uh..." Paola trails off, looking back, "you know, I don't remember your name. I really should, I feel bad now..."

Luciana could feel Paola's curiosity, questions regarding Lucia's unaltered age no doubt coming to mind. The goblin was usually careful about how long she stayed in one place and who she interacted with. Mortal friends and acquaintances only lasted as long as her unchanging appearance failed to raise suspicions, unless they were some of the few that were part of the generations of families dedicated to helping her integrate into each country. Paola, however, had seen Luciana a decade ago.

“Luciana.” The goblin replied, leaning back against a counter as she watched Paola busy herself with the kettle. “Though you are welcome to call me Lucia too.”

A pause, as Lucia’s gaze remained on Paola, attempting to again figure out how she had been called to the woman, and why. Answers were not forthcoming, and idly Luciana wondered if the only other goblin she had ever met – the monk Jiangyu – would have any idea as to why such a thing would occur. Paola was clearly just as ignorant to how it had happened as Luciana was, given her initial reaction to Lucia’s appearance. Perhaps getting to know the girl more might shed some light on the situation.

“What are you doing in Tokyo?” Lucia asks, almost conversationally.

With two bright red mugs settled in each of her hands, and a handful of memories that placed the woman a bit older than she looked, Paola moved the conversation to her tiny dining room table, enough for two people to chat and dine comfortably. Luciana. The name did ring a bell, and she correctly connected it to the woman she joking called her "fairy god mother". None of the other children in the orphanage believed her story, and neither did her new parents, waving it off as an active imagination, but Paola was right, and the proof is sitting in her dining room chair.

The woman asked her reason for being in Tokyo, and unwanted memories assaulted her again. Her subconscious drew her hand from the mug's handle and onto her empty stomach, as if the life that was building inside her was still there. Her mind fills with daydreams of hearing her son giggle, hearing his breath, his heartbeat. It was painful watching the man she still loves somehow detoriate as their baby detoriated inside her, so she had to go.

Paola looks back up, realizing she'd been in her head for far too long. "Sorry, I uh-" Her voice is lost and far away, and she holds onto the mug's handle again to ground herself in this reality, with no baby and no man to love, "I came to Tokyo to open a candle shop." Paola finishes matter-of-factly, sipping on the tea and relishing the burn of its heat; the pain is easier to focus on than the harsher burning in her heart.

Luciana didn’t know what passed behind Paola’s eyes, Paola’s mind seemingly far away from the small apartment they sat in. Lucia didn’t press, merely waited as she sipped on the warm tea in her hand. The heat of it sent warm waves through her body, settling into her stomach. Only when Paola blinked out of her reverie did the goblin settle the mug of tea on the table between them. Curiosity tugged at Luciana, but she let it be for now. She still wanted to know how the girl had called her, so whatever this past memory that had pulled Paola away was, it could wait. Assuming the goblin saw Paola again, of course.

“An interesting trade.” Lucia murmured, “Is it going well?”

Paola let the final waves of dull pain pass through her before answering Lucia's next question. "As well as it can be, running a candle shop." She laughs softly, thinking of the meager earnings she counted through every night. Thankfully, Ray and Stella are more than happy to help her, but she never tries to take too much, leaving her in this small, small apartment with horrible color combinations.

But this apartment isn't why Lucia is here. Paola also sets her mug down on the table, folding her arms across her chest. "But you aren't here to chat, I assume. How'd you even get here?" Paola can't even hide the confusion in her voice. Nothing in her right mind can explain to her how Lucia even got into her apartment, into the bathroom where she was peacefully bathing. Shame, it was a nice smelling bath bomb she used too.

“I suppose repeating that you called me here, twice, might seem a bit redundant now.” Lucia replied with a soft sigh, tilting her head slightly to once again inspect the woman sitting opposite her. Paola didn’t seem supernatural, she didn’t give off any vibes other than that of your average mortal. And yet, somehow she had managed to pull Lucia to her a total of three times in her short life. “I do not know how I got here, only that it was at your bidding. I was hoping that you would tell me.”

Paola shakes her head, frustration clear on her wrinkled brows. These aren't the answers she's looking for, and Lucia certainly isn't gaining any further information either. "I don't know what to tell you, Lucia, I really don't. I was literally just taking a bath and suddenly you were in my bathroom!" She snaps, much more aggravated than she meant to be. She mutters out an apology, uneager to find herself on Lucia's bad side. With another sip of her tea, she hopes the older woman can have some insight for the both of them; though in all honesty, Lucia seems just as confused about the situation as Paola.

“I have a friend, perhaps I can contact him and ask.” Luciana suggested, taking a final sip of tea and ignoring Paola’s slightly raised tone. Jiangyu had never mentioned such an occurrence before, but she knew no other goblins to turn to. “Though perhaps today was a chance, who’s to say if it will happen again or not.”

Settling the mug back on the table, Lucia pushed back the chair and raised to her feet. “I should leave. Thank you for the tea.”

And just like that, Paola feels the loneliness creeping back in. She didn't notice it leave before, but with the notion of Lucia leaving, it is here again, almost tangible. But this isn't one of her friends she can persuade to stay the night, she hardly even knows Lucia. She looks away from the older woman, unsure of what to say. "See you later!" "We should have tea again soon!" "I hope I'm not naked next time!"

"Sure, yeah, it probably won't." Paola replies, trying not quite hard enough to sound normal, "But um. Thanks, I guess- for having tea. With me." Paola mentally punches herself for sounding so stupid, but tries to make up for it by opening the door for Lucia to leave. Something inside her begs for Lucia to stay, that there's more to this story than either of them are allowing, but there's nothing that'll make the words come out of Paola's mouth. Just stay, for a moment longer. "Goodnight, Lucia."

A momentary hesitation held Luciana in place as her eyes attempted to read Paola’s thoughts. No such luck. With a nod, and another word of farewell, the goblin turned towards what she assumed to be the front door. She didn’t necessarily need to use the front door, but she felt that given the weirdness of the day, keeping up some small appearance would be better than nothing.

A last glance back at the mortal had Lucia’s mouth parting once more, “I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Goodnight, Paola.” With the words spoken she opened the door and stepped through, transporting herself once again to her own apartment.

Ryan Prosker \|/ Kohaku

“So...do many people call you Yoshi? Like the little green...raptor...thing from Mario?” Ryan asked, his hand reaching for another shot of sake. Yoshi looked over, giving a slight sigh as he topped Ryan off once more.

“Few times, mostly drunk Americans though.” Ryan paused for a moment, before lowering his head.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend or anything...but Yoshi is awesome! He lays eggs and has this weird tongue thing…” Yoshi gave a wave of the hand.

“You don't offend me, I have dealed with the name for a long time. Stopped bother me years ago.” Ryan looked down at his sake, swirling it in his cup for a moment.

“Well if it evens the odds a bit, my callsign is Rango.” Yoshi looked over at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Rango?” He asked, curiosity hitting his face with the force of a sledgehammer.

“Yeah, supposed to be some sort of lizard thing...gecko maybe that talks real fast and such. It’s a movie apparently, I’m assuming you’ve never seen it?”

“No.” Yoshi replied curtly. Ryan gave a shrug.

“Yeah, me neither.” It was at that moment that a young man came towards Ryan, grabbing his attention with some well spoken Japanese. Ryan stared blankly at him, looking over to Yoshi to translate but before that could happen, the man switched to English. He sat down next to Ryan as the American pondered just how inadequate he was going to feel if so many people could speak both languages and he was filling the stereotype of only knowing one. The man wanted to thank him, and as he got his beer, he held it forward. Ryan grabbed his cup and went to do the same thing only to realize he was drinking out of the traditional sake cup and had no idea how to clank it.

So with all the awkwardness of someone who was obviously not from around there, he lifted the cup with both hands and gave the beer a quick clank that just looked completely silly. Ryan took his shot from the cup before looking down at it and giving a quick laugh at the entire situation. He could feel his cheeks already starting to flush, but that just meant the booze was working. Weird stuff sake, went down like water and hit like a truck apparently. When the man asked what he was celebrating, Ryan paused for a moment. Was he even celebrating anything?

Failed reunions?

Family loathing and hatred?

Maybe just something as simple as being able to walk out of that hospital without decking his own mother in the mouth.

Ok that last one was a bit harsh, but he was finding it hard to not be bitter about the entire thing. In the end, Ryan gave a sigh, filling up his cup once more from the bottle placed directly in front of him. “I’m not celebrating a thing.” Ryan finally admitted, looking over at the man. He was rather scrawny looking, although that was nothing coming from Ryan who was considered the smallest guy in his unit. He looked timid, but he seemed to have an air of confidence that allowed him to approach Ryan easily. Maybe it was just a wrong first impression of the man, after all, Ryan was usually the victim of such a thing. “To be perfectly honest, everyone here looked a bit down so I thought, ‘Hey, why not give everyone something to smile about, free booze!’” Ryan gave a beaming smile, spinning so he was facing the man. He heard Yoshi scoff over in the corner, which earned a quick finger from Ryan. “Shush you!”

When that was done, Ryan looked over at the man who approached him, holding out a hand. “Name’s Ryan Prosker...wait...am I supposed to bow?”

Kohaku caught the tail end of his charge's conversation with the barkeep, remaining silent as he took his seat beside the American. Beer in hand, he clinked it against Ryan's sake glass and took a soothing sip of the chilled beverage. Haku didn't drink much, due to a mixture of budget issues and a habit of getting too intoxicated too quickly, but he had to admit that he enjoyed a cold drink at the end of the day. Haku also had to agree that the majority of those gathered in the bar were far from boisterous. The table the guardian had just departed stood as a prime example, Kohaku almost expected to hear the mournful cries of his fellow guardian joining the soft hum of the other patron's chatter. Yet, thankfully his charge seemed to be holding it together better than Minako.

"You are new to Japan, I believe." Haku replied, giving Ryan's offered hand a firm shake. As he released Ryan's hand and pulled his arm back, the guardian bent slightly forward, offering the American a small bow in both greeting and demonstration, before adding, "You can call me Kohaku."

The guardian suddenly wished he had purchased a travel pamphlet or book that might be able to illuminate Japanese social customs to the foreigner, though Haku mentally conceded that a quick search on a smartphone would offer a valuable range of information on the same topics. Still, he added it to the list of ways he might be able to help his charge.

"How long have you been in Japan?" Kohaku asked a moment later, before holding his hand up to get the barkeep's attention. Remaining in English for the sake of the man seated next to him, Haku asked for a glass of water, fearing how quickly the alcohol might go to his head if he doesn't pace himself. Being drunk around his charge would not be a good work story.

The bartender was quick to act, and within moments he was pushing a full glass towards Haku. The guardian thanked him as his own hand moved forward to take it, his fingers brushing accidentally over the mortal's hand. Instantly Kohaku was given insight into the barkeep's mood, sensing good-natured humour, and a weariness at the long day and night ahead. With a smile, Haku leaned in and spoke to both barkeep and charge,

"Did you know Yoshi means good luck, righteous, or virtuous, depending on the kanji? I once knew a Yoshi, many years ago, who was blessed with all of those"

"Gave it away that quickly huh?" Ryan answered in a fully aware rhetorical question, taking another shot of his sake before giving a slight nod. "Pleasure to meet you, hope you're enjoying the free drink." Ryan cast his eyes back towards the bar as Kohaku started explaining what Yoshi truly meant in Japanese. Ryan wasn't trying to be disrespectful, but when he was truly listening, he tended to not focus on anything in particular. He gave a nod as Kohaku finished telling the small story, to which Ryan gave a curious 'huh' in response, although he was more disappointed that it wasn't directly related to a giant green frog dinosaur. At heart, he was ok with admitting he was slightly childish.

When Kohaku asked him how long he had been in Japan, stopping only to order some water, Ryan swirled the sake a bit. Part of him wanted to offer the guy another drink, and the other part of him realized that he was already being quite generous with Konatsu's money. "Not long, I arrived yesterday and got situated in a hotel. Mainly here for..." Ryan pondered what to say, not a true fan of lying especially when it was to cover up his own inadequacies. "An interesting experience." Ryan decided to go with that instead, not necessarily lying but not revealing too much about himself.

"I'm assuming that you were born in Japan? Or at least you've been here for some time? Anything interesting you can tell me about this place? Maybe something fun to do while I'm in the country slash city?"

Haku listened to Ryan's spoken words and to the emotions vibrating through their invisible connection. It always became that much easier to understand a charge when speaking with them, understanding how they thought and how they lived. Haku nodded as Ryan explained why he was in the country, leaving out the real reason for his unschedualed visit. Kohaku didn't push, instead taking a sip of his water before answering Ryan's questios.

"Yes, quiet some time." Haku answered, imagening that Ryan didn't expect 'quite some time' to mean several centuries. "There are many things to do in Tokyo." Haku added with another nod, "Museums, art shows, movies, festivals... In fact there is a Cherry blossom festival tomorrow at Kan'ei-ji temple in Ueno park. To my mind, there would be no better Japanese event to attend than such a festival."

Haku pulled a napkin across the bar and then a pen from his pocket. In quick strokes the guardian wrote both the kanji and then translation on the napkin before sliding it towards his charge, "The address, if you choose to go."

Ryan took the napkin, looking at the Kanji and translation and once again wondering how basically an art piece turned into a language before giving a nod and slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "I'll take your word for it." Ryan took another shot of sake from his bottle, the alcohol flowing smoothly now that it was starting to hit him a bit harder. He questioned if he should stop soon, but remembered he had a ride picking him up later, so he considered the risk worth it. “If you don’t mind me asking though, what does all the Cherry Blossom festival entail? Is it all about small fruits and flowers?”

"Not fruit." Haku corrected with a shake of his head, "The festivals come from old customs of watching the sakura blossom." Kohaku took a final sip of his beer before placing the bottle on the bar in front of him, "I have always found Hanami a calming experience."

A glance behind him pulled Kohaku's attention to the table of grim reapers and lone guardian angel. Though he didn't want to leave his American charge so soon, he could sense that he would be needed throughout the night. Perhaps getting back to the tiny apartment he shared with Minako and having a small nap before being forced out into the night again would be beneficial. Turning back to Ryan, Haku offered the American a small nod,

"Thank you again for the drink. I should get back to my friends. Perhaps we might bump into each other at the festival tomorrow." Though no smile flickered across his face, his tone was decidely friendlier than his usual depressed tone. Of course, regardless of whether Ryan saw Kohaku again, Kohaku would definitley be seeing Ryan again, though perhaps in varying forms.

With a final nod in thanks, Haku pushed out of his seat and made his way back to his table, mentally planning on sliding into bed as soon as he got home.

Ryan nodded along, listening to Kohaku's explanation to the very uncultured American who honestly couldn't remember the last time he had been to a fair of any kind. In some regards he wondered if he was truly a workaholic. So basically some kind of flower blossoming festival, could be an interesting sight to see regardless of his investment in such things. With the explaination out of the way, Kohaku finished his beer and looked back towards his friends, stating how he should get back to them. Ryan gave a nodded and raised his glass slightly. "Not a problem, thanks for the info and have a great night." Ryan stated with a beaming smile as he turned back towards the bar to fill his cup once more. Halfway through pouring it, he realized that there wasn't anything left in the bottle, to which he gave a small tap on the counter to get Yoshi's attention. "Yoshi, running a bit dry here, you mind?"

Ryan didn't think that one fully translated for the bartender, but he seemed to get the gist of it as he reached underneath the bar and pulled out another bottle of sake. As Ryan started going at he second bottle at this point, the legitimate concern over whether he truly was an alcoholic flashed briefly before being overtaken by a sense of bravado, a small unconscious shrug escaping his features before diving headlong into the fresh batch of sake.

A rather well dressed and uniformed man entered the bar a few hours later, his attire not at all suited to the establishment as he took off his cap and held it under the crutch of his arm. He gave a quick look around the bar, spotting the man he had come to grab at the counter. Nick wandered over to him, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Master Prosker? I'm here to take you to your hotel." A quick inspection found Ryan to be passed out, or very close to it on the counter of the bar. Nick looked over to Yoshi who simply gave a disapproving shake of his head before Nick gave a slight bow and switched to Japanese. "I apologize for Master Prosker's behaviour." Yoshi gave a slight shrug as he cleaned a few glasses.

"Not really a problem, he didn't cause any trouble here. I did start passing him water later on, but I don't think he noticed." Nick gave a small laugh.

"In his state, I doubt he would. Master Konatsu appreciates you taking care of him." Nick pulled out a credit card from his breast pocket, to which Yoshi presented a machine to run it through. It took a couple of seconds before the transaction completed and Yoshi gave a gruff nod.

"Alright, all paid up, now do you mind getting the starting to snore American off of my bar?" Nick gave a nod and a slight bow once again.

"Of course." Nick grabbed Ryan's shoulder and gave it a firm shake. "Master Prosker? You need to wake up, I have to get you to your hotel." It took a couple more shakes for Ryan to actually stir, his eyes half open as he nearly swiped three empty bottles of sake to the ground.

"Hm? Nick? What are you...uhhh...what....what?" Nick pulled Ryan off the stool, slipping himself underneath Ryan's arm as he replaced his hat on his head.

"It's alright Master Prosker, we just have to get you somewhere where your sleep won't be disturbed." Nick practically carried him out the door and to the waiting limo, struggling to open the car door with the American nearly limp on his side.

"Did you know that bartender is named after Yoshi...from Mario?" Ryan stated, his speech slurred but still somewhat cognative.

"I do not believe he was named after that creature sir." Nick stated, nearly flopping Ryan into the back, letting him lay down on the seat before closing the door and heading to the driver's seat. Upon entry, Ryan was already halfway through another sentence.

"-an't believe it. There was...Sake...beer. Ummm...Do they...I could go for some wings." Nick adjusted his rearview mirror quickly, giving a quick look back.

"If you can stay awake for more than two minutes, I will get you some wings Master Prosker." Nick stated, to which he was replied with silence. A quick inspection showcased a very passed out Ryan sleeping away in the back of the limo. Nick gave a quick shake of the head before buckling up and slowly pulling away from the bar towards their destination.

xxx As a child, Marlon's mother had attempted to hammer into his thick skull many moral and educational sayings. 'Patience is a virtue', 'The early bird gets the worm', 'Sukces ma wieju ojców, porażka jest sierotą', and other such common phrases. Marlon was sure that half the children in the world had grown up with such inane lessons being repeated again and again whenever impatience or sloth struck. Marlon was not immune, and could recite a list of Polish and English phrases that would make any grandmother jealous.

xxx However, in the slow minutes that passed since entering the small chocolate cafe, Marlon could only hear one phrase being repeated constantly in his mind: 'Patience is a virtue'. Marlon glanced at the clock on his cellphone, before hazel eyes slide sideways and then across the table to where his monk sat. A crinkle worried Marlon's brow as he frowned slightly, pursing his lips and forcing his gaze once more to the door. Wyatt couldn't be long now.

xxx Marlon supposed he could attempt conversation while they waited, but each time his mind was made up and his lips began to part, he found himself wondering what use speaking would actually do. All his immediate questions had either been answered at the university hall or waved aside. Confusion was still rife and Marlon decided that before he were to start spurting off anymore accusations or repetitive questions, he'd sort his thoughts out first... and see how Wyatt reacted to the Monk.

xxx As if on cue, the store door opened and in walked Marlon's Italian roommate. Seeing Wyatt's steady form walking towards him helped steady Marlon slightly, as if seeing someone from his normal life helped to convince the blonde that this wasn't some elaborate dream or prank. Certainly, Marlon had seen some strange things in his life, but the sense that Jiangyu gave off unbalanced Marlon more than the men and women in black, or the individuals who sometimes sprouted wings out of their backs.

xxx Marlon waved Wyatt over and waited, watching for his friend and roommate's reaction to the shirtless god sitting in the chocolate cafe. Regardless of the situation, Marlon couldn't help the small grin that spread across his face at Wyatt's shock. He was glad Marlon wasn't the only one put off by the appearance of a shirtless monk.

xxx "Hey Wyatt." Marlon replied as his friend pulled a chair to the end of the table. Biting his lip and glancing from Wyatt to Jiangyu, Marlon waved a hand and introduced the pair, "Wyatt, this is Jiangyu, a practicing Shaolin Monk who decided to... ah, drop in as I was practicing tonight. Jiangyu, this is my friend and roommate Wyatt."

xxxMarlon pursed his lips momentarily, wondering whether he should admit to Wyatt just how odd Marlon's first meeting with Jiangyu had been. Would Wyatt believe him if he said that Jiangyu just suddenly appeared behind him with no sound of the balcony door opening or closing? Marlon had never before mentioned any of the unusual beings he'd seen, and he really didn't want his roommate to start thinking he was crazy... perhaps Marlon could get a few drinks in the quieter boy and then spill the information. Though, he'd rather do it without the presence of the tall monk, but Marlon had a feeling that Jiangyu wouldn't be easy to shake. And for some reason, completely unrelated to the man's impressive chest, Marlon wasn't entirely opposed to having Jiangyu around.

xxxMarlon's thoughts were interrupted as the waitress brought over the hot chocolate Marlon had ordered during the wait for Wyatt. A free orange flavoured chocolate sat on the dish, and Marlon pushed the treat towards Wyatt. Orange flavoured chocolate was not chocolate in Marlon's mind. With a nod of thank you to the waitress he turned back to his friends, before turning his head back again to the waitress who was still hovering by the table, her gaze glued to Jiangyu's face and chest.

xxx "Thanks." Marlon said, catching her attention and raising his eyebrows. The waitress blushed slightly, muttered something under her breath and them scampered off.

xxxAll too soon Marlon's drink was nothing more than dredges of melted chocolate at the bottom of the glass, his stomach warm and his tongue sweet with the taste of sugar. He smothered a yawn with his hand, eyes glancing at the quickly emptying cafe as he realised the lateness of the hour. "I hope you weren't planning on a rager, Wyatt." Marlon commented with a smirk, even as he hesitated slightly to find the right words in Japanese, "I'm exhausted."

xxx A stray thought crossed Marlon's mind and his gaze turned to Jiangyu, "Ah, do you have somewhere to stay?" Marlon hadn't thought he'd seen a wallet or keys on the Monk's belt. Well, technically Marlon hadn't noted a belt either. "I guess, you can always stay with us if you want? We have a semi-comfortable couch..." Marlon's voice drifted off, unsure whether inviting the relative stranger into his and Wyatt's apartment was the best idea. Then again, he didn't get any dangerous vibes off the monk and, though he might pretend otherwise, he was slightly curious about him.

xxx "Though, you might be too tall for the couch. You can have my bed and I'll go in with Wyatt." Marlon declared, smiling confidently at Wyatt, as if the wider his smile, the more likely Wyatt would be to have Marlon hogging half the blankets beside him. "That is, if you're staying with us...?"

xxx Marlon left the question hanging and open, he supposed that whatever would happen, would happen. He wasn't one to believe in destiny, but if it was destiny to have a strange man with incredible muscle definition staying in your apartment, then Marlon could come around to the idea.

While the monks’ lodgings back at the monastery were concentrated in a small village east of the central temple area, Jiangyu’s dormitory was found on the outskirts of the village repurposed from a storage site that had fallen into disuse. Gnarled strangler figs curled like tendrils of smoke around the building concealing most of what lay beyond.

Besides assembling for group meditation, Jiangyu spent most of his time in his quarters. He was not opposed to fraternity with the other monks, but if that meant he should partake in the obliquities of food and drink, he spurned the idea. Jiangyu felt that the monastic routine had grown grossly diluted. Monks were placing a disproportionate significance into physical training rather than spiritual betterment. The village common area had thus become a breeding ground of imprudence and indulgence for those who felt entitled to celebration after a long day’s labor. Recreational time had also become far more prevalent and it would not be uncommon to see monks with technology of the modern age in their hands, smart phones and the like consuming their attention. Jiangyu steered clear of all these distractions.

Jiangyu felt far more liberated when relegated to the homely backdrop of his tiny dwelling. They were not the highest quality of fabrics, but the drapes he hung on his walls afforded a very secure atmosphere. Wisps of incense completed the ambience, their ancillary visual appeal merging with the pungent fragrance that hung in the air. This was the ideal environment for his reflections as he soundlessly drifted to his meditative reveries.

These thoughts would wade through his mind as Jiangyu’s temporary escort led him through the busy streets of Tokyo, the youth’s shock of blond hair bobbing through the sea of flesh. The entire experience was a mixture of terror and delight, but whatever emotions it invoked, Jiangyu could only halt in sheer wonderment every few moments at the debauchery of dazzling neon lights, flurry of sounds, and bold presentation of everything that greeted him.

While Jiangyu had largely divided his time circulating the monasteries in China, there were a few occasions when he operated outside the country on assignment. He was not completely uncultured to the ways of the modern world, but all his ventures outward rarely challenged his sense of complacency for these locales had him in the ease of the countryside. He never had reason to set foot in to the domain of industrialism until this point.

I see that that they reject all means of modesty , he thought to himself although he was unsure if he surmised it at any specific point or if it was more of a sustained impression of his surroundings. In all his giddy fascination with this new setting, Jiangyu barely noticed when they had arrived at their destination. He was not given any explanation as to the reason for their visit, however without question he followed Marlon inside, drawn by the floral scents of tea and the tamer atmosphere.

They had no less stepped inside when they were meant by the amicable smile of their hostess. She comfortably slid into pleasant banter with Marlon, but upon seeing Jiangyu, here attention turned to his uncovered physique. It was only for a few moments, but it was enough for an awkward hush to fall over the group. The woman snapped her attention back to the monk with a sheepish expression of embarrassment and apology and quickly directed them to an open table, not wishing to probe the situation any further.

Jiangyu could not understand why everyone was shocked by his appearance. By the hostess’s blushing, he could deduce that his robe was immodest or profane, although his bearing of social cues was lacking so the conclusion was uncertain. All’s well that ends well , he thought to himself. If he had any inkling to see where this cosmic interlude would take him, he presumed that he would have to adjust to customs of the period, including clothing himself properly. Based on their last exchange Jiangyu would have to guess that Marlon would not be too enthusiastic about that. However, he was of the opinion that his nakedness would leave an indelible impression on the youth.

With that thought Jiangyu once again studied the boy that sat in front of him. Jiangyu had just lectured Marlon on the importance of evaluating all circumstances with detachment and objectivity, yet here he was in the company of a stranger he had only just met. The boy was nice enough to let Jiangyu accompany him, but Jiangyu still had his qualms. There was little opportunity to divest the cordial façade Marlon had on, for his friend had just arrived. Immediately the newcomer bore the expression of terror that everyone seemed to have worn that night, yet Jiangyu pretended not to notice.

Jiangyu heard Marlon’s voice as it materialized from the background, “Hey Wyatt… Wyatt, this is Jiangyu, a practicing Shaolin Monk who decided to... ah, drop in as I was practicing tonight. Jiangyu, this is my friend and roommate Wyatt."

Jiangyu wordlessly bowed in greeting. He did not venture to talk, believing that it would further sour this first encounter if the outsider was to initiate conversation. He looked to Marlon for prompting but he was in the midst of downing his drink.
Seeing no better recourse he turned back to Wyatt and said, “Umm… You seem tense, Wyatt. I promise you I mean no harm. It’s just as Marlon said we happened to cross paths and I asked him if he could help me find my way through the city. Without him I most assuredly would have spent a night in the cold…” The words sputtered out and he felt strained telling them. Jiangyu was not good at stretching the truth and he gave up maintaining eye contact halfway through his statement for fear that Wyatt would call his fib.

Marlon saved him from his hopeless fumbling when he interjected with a stifled yawn. Jiangyu was disappointed in his spontaneity for the day; the crowds were beginning to thin outside and it was with a start he realized how long he had been away from the monastery. This excursion was quickly losing its charm.

When Marlon mentioned the possibility of lodging with the two roommates for the night, Jiangyu held up his hand in polite refusal, “Pardon me for the brevity of my departure, but I did not realize the lateness of the hour…, anticipating resistance from Marlon he continued ”…If I remember correctly from my last visit there should be a monastery close by here I may reside for the night.” The words stung for their obvious contradiction to what he had just previously said.

He muttered and few words of thanks not waiting for a proper response before his feet struck with a brisk pace towards the exit. He knew his preferred destination as soon as the doors swung open.

In flash he was back in the central courtyard of the Shaolin Monastery and he noticed the surprising lack of the old man that had been there before his adventure. He said with a humpf, “Figures.”